competencefantasy's Reviews (912)

As a general rule, if the protagonist of a book is insisting to the reader within the the first 20 pages that some sex he had was totally consensual no matter what the woman he slept with said, there's going to be an uphill battle for me to like the story. This is even more true when the tale is supposed to be a comedy. My dislike of the protagonist colored my enjoyment of the entire story. Being in his point of view was unpleasant, as he walked around in an overconfident swagger, commenting to the reader on the attractiveness of various plot-important women. His perspective also made it impossible for any of the women in the plot to get any character development, as their primary descriptor gravitated to their breast size. I don't get along with people who see women primarily as physical attributes in real life, and it is no less insufferable here.

There was a decent mystery under all the lechery somewhere, and I've come away with an increased interest in King Cnut from the setting. However the protagonist made it a chore to read.

This book is a few hundred pages of condensed aesthetic. The best thing about it is its venue, the circus, rather than the plot. The author has a rich imagination. The descriptions of the circus are fascinating, well-imagined, and otherworldly. The setting feels elegant and expensive in all of the senses. If you're in the mood to sit down for an enjoyable evening of exposition, then this is for you.

I'm somewhat less enthusiastic about the plot. It's not bad, but a touch standard, and it doesn't land as well as the rest of the book. I'm also less than thrilled about the romantic aspect of the story, but I very rarely enjoy romance in my literature, so take that with a grain of salt.

I would love to read something with this author's flare for setting that is more focused on the excellent world building. For example, I would have enjoyed reading more of the in-world writing and analysis from the reveurs, maybe with some snarky footnotes in the style of [b:City of Saints and Madmen|230852|City of Saints and Madmen (Ambergris, #1)|Jeff VanderMeer|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1390260432s/230852.jpg|522014].

A thought provoking short work on the nature of perception, in a semidystopian world, this story raises questions both about how worldview is passed within families and how it is augmented or changed by technology.

This is a very compassionately and humanly written historical fiction about the early years of Alexander the Great. The characterization of the lead character is one of the book's finest points. He feels like a person with contradictions and flaws. The plot is not particularly fast-moving or pronounced, but it doesn't have to be. The analysis of systems and interpersonal relationship make it well worth the reading.

The weaknessess of the text included a dependence on Freudian psychology, particularly in the first few chapters, and a weaker, less compassionate, development of Olympia, Alexander's mother, compared to the rest of the cast. One of the high points was the section of the book dealing with Aristotle, and his motives.

If you enjoy historical fiction as character study and have an interest in Alexander the Great, I think you will enjoy this book

This is a charming story of a living child who grows up in a graveyard, raised by a varied cast of kind but (mostly)deceased friends. While the story is innocent and not too heavy, the imaginative detail put into the setting allows for an entertaining and pleasant experience. My personal favorite was the character of Ms. Lupescu, who is initially presented as a sort of overly strict babysitter, but soon turns out to be a powerful character in her own right.

Additionally this story reminded me a bit of the Halloweentown movies, in that the spooky and dark things that usually would be seen as evil or horrific were here part of the seat of childhood innocence. The graveyard was home for the main character, and its inhabitants were family. That can be a great and comfortable thing when you're in the right mood for it.

This is a very strong example in the Roman's doing awful things to each other genre. Hmmm I should back up.

Pompeii is a Roman thriller, which juxtaposes the expected tension about the volcano all of the readers and none of the characters know is about to erupt with more immediate problems of political corruption and a broken Roman aqueduct. As a disaster thriller, this book is extremely well-written. An aqueduct engineer is a fascinating choice for a protagonist, as it mixes very specific historical details with enough involvement in the political scene to fuel the plot. In the end, the pacing of the last third, when set against the more leisurely pacing of the earlier sections, creates a sensation that the reader, like the characters, is trying to outrun an erupting volcano. Chapters open with quotes from various studies of volcanoes, which simultaneously reference the literal geological phenomena and the metaphorical theme and plot connections.

These , however, were where the book got a little sketchy for me. There's an attempt to draw a triple parallel, tying together the volcanology, the plot, and the connections modern readers tend to see between the Roman Empire and today's Western imperialism. It seems to me there is something to that concept, a place to examine the connection between ancient and modern concepts of empire, together with their inherent injustice and instability. However, I'm not sure it lands.

Impressively, Harris manages to take what is essentially an act of God disaster and still write a scenario onto it where the machinations and personal failures of the characters did plausibly contribute to their downfall. However, next to plot characterization is comparatively weak. There is a problem with Roman fiction in general, where the audience fascination with seeing themselves in Roman culture meets the desire to be thrilled by, but not necessarily introspective about, Roman downfall. That's where the fascination with despots comes in.

Ampliatus, the villain, is a character made from the idea that former slaves are the worst masters and seemingly nothing else. Proudly using the most infamous roman emperors as an influence, he grasps unethically for power and influence, while abusing his family and exacting revenge on those born above him in the hierarchy. While Harris writes his antagonist with all the gore and enthusiasm that is traditional for this type of character, it comes across a little trite. Frankly, the evil power-drunk Roman villain was done to death right around the time Tactitus finished with his actual histories. Nevertheless, if you want to see a person crack under his own immense hubris, this is a stylish execution of the idea.

Note: There is one part where the protagonist thinks something homophobic, rather superfluously. I haven't quite been able to figure out whether this is homophobia from the book or intended to be commentary on it.

Unfortunately this one didn't grab me at all. I think I've been spoiled by the myriad retellings and reinterpretations of the snow queen as a concept, especially those that were primarily in visual mediums. By comparison, the prose here is flat, a lot of traditional fairy tale formulas and not much else. Furthermore the majority of the story is devoted to a child traveling around all sort of places and asking every single being she can find where her friend is. While it's nice that a girl rescues a boy for once rather than the other way around, the methods she uses are comparatively passive and don't, in my opinion, make for much of a story. Compared to the themes in "The Little Mermaid", for example, The Snow Queen lacks depth for me.

Here you'll find the plot-heavy variety of historical fiction, so full of intrigue, betrayals, and interlocking motivations that the end of the book nearly overflows when it comes time to explain what's been going on. To elevate it from the usual formula, it contains a much more interesting and diverse cast of characters than has become the standard in this type of historical fiction. True the main protagonist is the spy-fixer type, but the rest of the cast carries it, with a range of well-characterized viewpoints, including a transgender sex worker based on a real historical character. (I think it's probably best to view the character as genderfluid at least in the context of the book, else the switching between pronouns in close third person becomes awkward. However, I'm not an expert on this and would love to hear the perspective of some trans people on how the portrayal is done). Details of representation aside, everyone passes the "are they a person" test, which is impressive, given the amount of interlocking involvements to keep track of. I can recommend this if you're looking for a historical fiction plot-fest that gives page time to a wider breadth of characters than just the kings and queens.

As a character study and a period piece, this is incredibly powerful. It explores emotional suppression, building identities out of professions, and deciding what to do with one's life with limited information in very nuanced and subtle ways.