Take a photo of a barcode or cover
Originally posted at The Wandering Fangirl.
On the outside, Mal is your typical angry teen, the boy people think will snap one day and go on a school shooting spree. On the inside, Mal is an angry, dejected, incredibly sad boy whose world is turned upside when his father leaves, and things are made even worse when he’s abducted by aliens.
Or is he? I chose to believe everything was true, but you could take it either way.
At 150 pages First Day on Earth is a short, quick read, but it packs a punch with what it does. Mal’s turmoil and angry view of the rest of humanity is easy to understand and sympathize with. It makes it easier to take the journey with him when he meets meets Hooper, a guy in his abduction support group, who may or may not be an alien stranded on Earth. Already feeling detached from his fellow human beings, Mal thinks the answer to all his problems will be to leave Earth with Hooper.
However, the short length of the book fails the narrative once you’re in the last fifty or so pages. Mal thinks and acts a certain way for the entire book, and his torn up emotions are an anchor as the book moves along. Then all of a sudden, without any visible change (except a girl actually talks to and befriends him), Mal changes his mind on something that drives the last half of the book and it all just ends. I enjoyed the book until the very end, but it’s definitely worth a read.
On the outside, Mal is your typical angry teen, the boy people think will snap one day and go on a school shooting spree. On the inside, Mal is an angry, dejected, incredibly sad boy whose world is turned upside when his father leaves, and things are made even worse when he’s abducted by aliens.
Or is he? I chose to believe everything was true, but you could take it either way.
At 150 pages First Day on Earth is a short, quick read, but it packs a punch with what it does. Mal’s turmoil and angry view of the rest of humanity is easy to understand and sympathize with. It makes it easier to take the journey with him when he meets meets Hooper, a guy in his abduction support group, who may or may not be an alien stranded on Earth. Already feeling detached from his fellow human beings, Mal thinks the answer to all his problems will be to leave Earth with Hooper.
However, the short length of the book fails the narrative once you’re in the last fifty or so pages. Mal thinks and acts a certain way for the entire book, and his torn up emotions are an anchor as the book moves along. Then all of a sudden, without any visible change (except a girl actually talks to and befriends him), Mal changes his mind on something that drives the last half of the book and it all just ends. I enjoyed the book until the very end, but it’s definitely worth a read.
Originally posted at The Wandering Fangirl.
I’m nearly peeing my pants in excitement for the movie adaptation of this book (have you seen the red band trailer? AAAAHHH!), and I wish the book itself had lived up to my hopes for the movie. It was decent, a great blending of fantasy and historical fiction (and some facts in there, I guess). I just wish it hadn’t read too much like a biographical account and more like a purely fictional account, because it felt off at times. Especially when the story veered off to talk about people who were suddenly important to the one piece of plot currently coming up, where they hadn’t been focused on before — because the writing was based on Lincoln’s lost journals, and he couldn’t have known half of what these other dudes were up to. But that’s mostly a preference, because the expanded view worked for most of the scenes.
Except when it came to John Wilkes Booth and the pages and pages of his back story leading up to Lincoln’s assassination. Uggghhh did not care.
It was a solid, fun read, but nothing much more than that.
I’m nearly peeing my pants in excitement for the movie adaptation of this book (have you seen the red band trailer? AAAAHHH!), and I wish the book itself had lived up to my hopes for the movie. It was decent, a great blending of fantasy and historical fiction (and some facts in there, I guess). I just wish it hadn’t read too much like a biographical account and more like a purely fictional account, because it felt off at times. Especially when the story veered off to talk about people who were suddenly important to the one piece of plot currently coming up, where they hadn’t been focused on before — because the writing was based on Lincoln’s lost journals, and he couldn’t have known half of what these other dudes were up to. But that’s mostly a preference, because the expanded view worked for most of the scenes.
Except when it came to John Wilkes Booth and the pages and pages of his back story leading up to Lincoln’s assassination. Uggghhh did not care.
It was a solid, fun read, but nothing much more than that.
Originally posted at The Wandering Fangirl.
While reading other reviews for this book on Goodreads and seeing the complaints that it seemed too much like Sarah Dessen’s other works, I got the feeling her books are the same as [a:John Green|1406384|John Green|http://photo.goodreads.com/authors/1300041951p2/1406384.jpg]’s for me: your first John Green book is the best John Green book you’ll read*. This was my first Sarah Dessen book, and it was fantastic.
Just Listen deals with a plethora of teen issues, from anger management and social ostracism to eating disorders and the big event that happens to Annabel that you can figure out before the reveal if you just think about it for two seconds. But it does it in such a way that it not only feels fresh, but has an impact as well. I felt for Annabel more than I have for a contemporary heroine in a long time, and a large part of that was probably because there was much more to her life than a boy, and the boy doesn’t solve all her problems. I LOVED that most of the story focuses on Annabel’s relationships with her various family members, and that Owen (insert dreamy sigh here) isn’t everything. Yes, he does help her open up again and plays a large part in her moving forward, but ultimately, every good and bad decision, every emotional growth spurt is up to Annabel. She earns every moment.
I really want to read more Sarah Dessen books, but I don’t want her to become a John Green to me. I’m waffling on what to read next.
*So many of the same witty teens, so much of the same maturity, all with the same unique way of looking at the world. Looking for Alaska was my first and favorite.
While reading other reviews for this book on Goodreads and seeing the complaints that it seemed too much like Sarah Dessen’s other works, I got the feeling her books are the same as [a:John Green|1406384|John Green|http://photo.goodreads.com/authors/1300041951p2/1406384.jpg]’s for me: your first John Green book is the best John Green book you’ll read*. This was my first Sarah Dessen book, and it was fantastic.
Just Listen deals with a plethora of teen issues, from anger management and social ostracism to eating disorders and the big event that happens to Annabel that you can figure out before the reveal if you just think about it for two seconds. But it does it in such a way that it not only feels fresh, but has an impact as well. I felt for Annabel more than I have for a contemporary heroine in a long time, and a large part of that was probably because there was much more to her life than a boy, and the boy doesn’t solve all her problems. I LOVED that most of the story focuses on Annabel’s relationships with her various family members, and that Owen (insert dreamy sigh here) isn’t everything. Yes, he does help her open up again and plays a large part in her moving forward, but ultimately, every good and bad decision, every emotional growth spurt is up to Annabel. She earns every moment.
I really want to read more Sarah Dessen books, but I don’t want her to become a John Green to me. I’m waffling on what to read next.
*So many of the same witty teens, so much of the same maturity, all with the same unique way of looking at the world. Looking for Alaska was my first and favorite.
Originally posted at The Wandering Fangirl.
In a genre crowded with the same old stories over and over, Fury is a fresh breath of air. Australian writers seem to be kicking ass lately, and I kind of want to move down there just so I can get their books easily because it’s a pain in my ass trying to get them. Fury was hard enough to get, I just want to read and get excited about Gracie Faltrain the way everyone else is, is that so much to ask??
Fury is one of those novels that seemed to grew in popularity solely by word of mouth on Goodreads from many reviews I trust. Though it wasn’t a full five star novel for me, it definitely lived up to the hype and was a fast, enjoyable read. Being immersed in Eliza’s life was like being caught up in Mean Girls, only you actually like Regina and hate Cady. But it’s not just about that.
Eliza isn’t exactly a Mean Girl, but everything about her, from her incredibly rich life and her relationship with her friends to her worries about her social standing, everything about what she stands for is something I instinctively hate. But there’s more to her life than meets the eye, as could be said for anyone. She doesn’t have a father, has a mother who’s barely around, there’s a boy she’s completely confused about, she has to deal with a new girl who joins their pack, and yeah, there’s the whole murder charge thing.
The novel see-saws between Eliza in the police station in the present and flashbacks as she tells the story of how she got there. How she got there was sort of the weakest link of the novel. Eliza is unapologetic about who she is, and it’s refreshing to see that as we learn more about her life and her friends. You could take out the whole murder plot and Fury would still be a great novel with some great insight on Eliza as a character alone. But throw in a thread of plot that grows larger as the flashbacks move on, and things kind of start to fall apart – both for Eliza, and for the reader. At least, for me it did.
The reason for the murder and the way it plays out makes sense, and I won’t give anything away, but it almost felt too safe. I wanted Eliza to be an unapologetic murderer just because she could be, you know? I wanted Fury to feel a little more unsure, I wanted it to make me feel a little less comfortable. I wanted some CRAZINESS, man.
I absolutely loved everything else about Fury, that aside. The insight on Eliza’s friendships, her strange relationship with her childhood friend Nick, the even meaner Mean Girls and the social politics of her school, it’s all fantastic. Shirley Marr’s written a smart, intelligent book that somehow manages to make me like the hell out of Eliza Boans and want to root for her even though, you know, she killed someone.
That’s talent.
In a genre crowded with the same old stories over and over, Fury is a fresh breath of air. Australian writers seem to be kicking ass lately, and I kind of want to move down there just so I can get their books easily because it’s a pain in my ass trying to get them. Fury was hard enough to get, I just want to read and get excited about Gracie Faltrain the way everyone else is, is that so much to ask??
Fury is one of those novels that seemed to grew in popularity solely by word of mouth on Goodreads from many reviews I trust. Though it wasn’t a full five star novel for me, it definitely lived up to the hype and was a fast, enjoyable read. Being immersed in Eliza’s life was like being caught up in Mean Girls, only you actually like Regina and hate Cady. But it’s not just about that.
Eliza isn’t exactly a Mean Girl, but everything about her, from her incredibly rich life and her relationship with her friends to her worries about her social standing, everything about what she stands for is something I instinctively hate. But there’s more to her life than meets the eye, as could be said for anyone. She doesn’t have a father, has a mother who’s barely around, there’s a boy she’s completely confused about, she has to deal with a new girl who joins their pack, and yeah, there’s the whole murder charge thing.
The novel see-saws between Eliza in the police station in the present and flashbacks as she tells the story of how she got there. How she got there was sort of the weakest link of the novel. Eliza is unapologetic about who she is, and it’s refreshing to see that as we learn more about her life and her friends. You could take out the whole murder plot and Fury would still be a great novel with some great insight on Eliza as a character alone. But throw in a thread of plot that grows larger as the flashbacks move on, and things kind of start to fall apart – both for Eliza, and for the reader. At least, for me it did.
The reason for the murder and the way it plays out makes sense, and I won’t give anything away, but it almost felt too safe. I wanted Eliza to be an unapologetic murderer just because she could be, you know? I wanted Fury to feel a little more unsure, I wanted it to make me feel a little less comfortable. I wanted some CRAZINESS, man.
I absolutely loved everything else about Fury, that aside. The insight on Eliza’s friendships, her strange relationship with her childhood friend Nick, the even meaner Mean Girls and the social politics of her school, it’s all fantastic. Shirley Marr’s written a smart, intelligent book that somehow manages to make me like the hell out of Eliza Boans and want to root for her even though, you know, she killed someone.
That’s talent.
