francesmthompson's Reviews (976)

Neil Gaiman is one of the most popular, talked about and applauded modern fiction authors online (which is key for me as I also try to connect with readers via the Internet). For that reason I've been meaning to dip into his books and find out what all the fuss is about for some time now.

And I do get it. But.

That's my teaser for this review. Now, here's the long version:

I get it because in The Ocean at the End of the Lane Gaiman is a quick and natural storyteller, moving the plot and the people along swiftly. He begins by teasing the reader that-something-momentous-happened-in-the-past, then he whisks them back to the beginning and introduces us to the people we need to know better, highlighting their quirky character traits and pulling on the reader's greatest weapon to empathise - nostalgia. Before you know it mysteries are unravelling and peculiarities of a sci-fi nature are popping up out of nowhere. There follows high-energy action scenes and tension building "how are they going to get out of this?" scenarios that suspend belief in a way reminiscent of Harry Potter.

Which is fantastic... except this is just not my cup of tea. While there are huge chunks of lesson-learning prose that I could quote to highlight how good an observant writer Gaiman is (and many other reviewers have done this), it's fair to say that I just don't really like the YA or sci-fi genre and because this book dips into both I personally found some of the action and plot development a little clunky for my liking and I imagine it took me much longer than most to get to that point when I am able to do some serious belief suspending.

However, have I added this to my "to-read-to-my-future-children" list? Yes, absolutely and I look forward to doing so.

I read this book like not finishing it would cause me serious pain; hungrily and selfishly and in the bathroom.

It's very inconsiderate of me to even mention the word "pain" in this context considering The Fault in Our Stars' subject matter - teenagers with terminal cancer - but that's how moved I felt as this brilliant book sucked me in and swept me away from the considerable hype surrounding it which I really thought would pin me synically to the ground.

In other words, I didn't want to be one of the millions who adored and grieved their way through this book, but I was and I am.

Aside from the utter ease with which Green gives life (no distasteful pun intended)to his young, charismatic characters there were unexpected bonuses for me personally as they take a trip to Amsterdam, my current place of residence. The critic in me wants to point out that this book isn't perfect (I got hung up on the slightest of pulled threads in the plot and I didn't quite get the heart-wrenching sob fest at the end that I wanted) I can't not give this story 5 stars because nothing has moved me like this - and swallowed me whole - for SO long.

While the cruelty of our young heroes is overwhelming, the tenderness of first love somehow saves the day. And that's what it's all about, right? This Young Adult craze that I'm still getting to grips with is all about those sweetest of firsts, isn't it? Well, even if it's not, I'm all the better for being reminded of the power of love in life no matter how short and how we should try to find the fun in everything - or as much as we possibly can - thanks to this book.

Compared to Lewycka's previous two novels this one did disappoint. It also rambled, scratched just the surface of more interesting issues and threw out improbable plot scenarios (I'm not talking about Mrs Sharpiro but rather the queue of hunky North London estate agents). In short, it didn't really do the author's reputation any justice. I'm not about to dig deeper to understand the reason why, and at any rate I kept reading because it was easy to do so... I just didn't feel guilty when I skipped great chunks.

If you like charming-enough, easy to get through if a little predictable middle-aged break-up/make-up stories, this is for you.

If you like what Lewycka has already proved herself a master at in [b:Two Caravans|1740908|Two Caravans|Marina Lewycka|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1187640835s/1740908.jpg|2086107] and [b:A Short History of Ukrainian Tractors|828387|A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian|Marina Lewycka|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1327935785s/828387.jpg|4240781], which are stories about people who are displaced, put upon, who should be despondent but are instead little heroes in their own right, then maybe pretend this didn't happen.

What surprised me about this book wasn't the depth of cruelty laced throughout, or how impossible it was to even comprehend that this happened to millions of innocent people (though both did very much affect me) what really surprised me was how well this book is written.

The pace is pitch perfect, my attention was held throughout and I felt invested in not only the plight of Solomon Northup but of each enslaved person he introduces during his twelve years of captivity. There is extraordinary detail in his account of what happened and great pains are made to describe meticulously the work required of them, the day to day life of a slave in the southern American States and how it felt to be so oppressed.

This is not just one of the most important books of the 19th century, it is essential reading for the future, lest we forget those who suffered greatly.

Definitely more 3.5 than 3 stars.

Nearly ten years ago I had a horrible break up and I hid myself away from the world so I could lick my wounds. One of the few things I had to keep myself company was a growing stack of Jodi Picoult novels. I loved their readability, their tackling of issues and how there is

A few years ago I picked up a new Picoult novel and balked at how predictable it was and how sadly "chick lit" the writing had become, albeit interspersed with occasional moments of beauty.

A few weeks ago I listened to a radio interview with Picoult about this book and about the research she did and about the mightily difficult to grasp concept of forgiveness of genocide. I was also hooked on the hook of the plot; is killing a Nazi killer mercy, forgiveness or punishment? So I bought it, downloaded it and started to read it.

In many ways this book is the perfect one to analyse Picoult's appeal which for many will come from the modern-day-referencing, over-simplified too-much-detail description and the predictable will-they-won't-they love stories (that almost ALWAYS involve a law enforcement officer...). For me, this is tiring, dull and does such a good plot a disservice. So for the majority of the first half of the book, as Sage narrates I was unimpressed, but still intrigued.

Then Sage's grandmother takes over with her harrowing account of the Holocaust, which Picoult not only made rich with the research she did (this is a great novel to read for teenages studying this period of history) but Minka's voice is purer, more authentic and despite the horrid things she tells us, more appealing to the reader who prefers to be showed not told.

I would love to read a Picoult novel that leaves the banter alone and focuses on strong stories, strong characters and no law enforcement love interests! Oh and keep the twists in there Jodi too!

Also, I was very moved by this woman's story - which was reportedly the inspiration for Minka's character - and would now like to read her memoir Looking Back.

I was desperate to give this five stars. Its so sumptuous and sensual with its language, poignancy and heartache in places that I cursed myself for not reading it sooner. And yet like a erratic lover, this sweet indulgence seemed to over-stretch itself and the pages would blur into one another and I'd lose myself a bit, missing key moments in the plot and glazing over too subtle character traits. It can't be denied, however, that I did enjoy this story that was unexpectedly rich in historic detail and despite the book and film's high profile, there were many unanticipated sub-plots. I'm also grateful to the author and story for highlighting many aspects and events in the Second World War that I was previously unaware of. It made me really think about the thousands and thousands of stories that I haven't yet heard about this well-documented and discussed war that changed the landscape of the world beyond recognition.

I still wish I could have given it five stars, not because of the pleasure in highlighting all five stars in this review, but because I was so eager for the warm, solid embrace it promised me at the beginning to stay with me until the end but like the English Patient, it got lost somewhere in the desert.

NB 4.5 stars.

There is a reason this book has done so well. It is original, authentic and unusual. All the things I like my novels to be. The years of work Filer ploughed into The Shock of the Fall have undoubtedly paid off with a piece of art that not only pulls you in to Matt's story like a magnet but (quite rightly) challenges our perceptions of mental health and the current state of its treatment (at least in UK).

I loved how this novel was brave enough to tackle schizophrenia from the first person. I loved how there was no fear in also bringing Downs Syndrome into the family fold. I loved the use of different fonts and Matt's reflective timeline that jumped all over the place in a sketchy, unapologetic way. I loved that despite all of Matt's anger and angst - not all of which seemed to be down to his illness; he is after all a teenage boy narrator - I still felt drawn to him and I still felt deep empathy for him and his family.

So why not 5 stars?

Well, I found this book brilliantly uncomfortable to read. And sad. So very sad. On more than a few occasions I had to put it down just to gather my thoughts and see if my smile muscles were still working. While this is no criticism of the novel as a body of work, it would just be dishonest to say that I LOVED every single second of this book. As a travel writer, the best analogy I can give is that The Shock of the Fall took me on a very real journey, but it was not necessarily one I wanted to go on.

Bravo Nathan Filer!

I have been listening to the Self-Publishing Podcast for nearly a year and have learnt huge amounts in that time. Johnny, Sean and Dave are spokespeople for the new generation of writers-publishers who are changing how we write and read stories. I applaud everything they do and will continue to support them, if only because following them gives me a regular kick up the backside to JUST GET ON WITH IT.

Gush over. I will now review Write, Publish, Repeat.

Written in Johnny (and Sean's) unapologetic no-nonsense (and yet very generous) style, the book begins with a number of disclosures and disclaimers about what the book is and isn't going to do. Take heed of these and then get stuck in to what is a rollercoaster of information and personal experience about the nitty gritty of building a business as an indie author. While there were few lightbulb moments thanks to having paid attention to the last 12 months of podcasts, there were more than a handful of quotes that I have highlighted and will return to for future inspiration/guidance/ass-kicking. You cannot underestimate the value of that to someone like me who feels so stupidly excited but also desperately scared of my future as an author-publisher.

While the boys do labour some points more than is necessary and the real magic of this book could have been delivered in half the number of words, I finished it as I began it - wishing that you could bottle their knowledge, enthusiasm and passion so the rest of us could take a sip.

Oh, the beauty of picking up a book you know nothing about and discovering a new world, a new way to approach a story and a new take on the guy gets girl love story.

I was hooked as soon as I realised I was following the story of somebody placed possibly quite high on the autistic spectrum (I'm no expert!) who was as socially awkward as he was blunt and as oblivious to social "norms" as he was determined in his many different projects. There are moments of great tenderness in The Rosie Project but I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't the laugh-out-loud moments caused by the way Don sees the world that kept me fascinated and made me a fan. Not only did it challenge my own understanding of society and the way we interact (or don't!) with one another but it also opened my mind to so many other ways to tell a story and play around with first person narratives.

A must-read for anyone looking for something different.

While researching the story of Nellie Bly for a work project recently I stumbled upon the story of Elisabeth Bisland, and subsequently her memoir of her travels around the world in 76 days, a challenge she reluctantly undertook at the insistence of her newspaper editor who was keen to have one of his own female journalists take on the challenge that Bly was very publicly doing, i.e. to make Jules Verne's novel Around the World in 80 Days a reality. While Bly is a much-documented, much talked about and indeed pioneering journalist of her time (her investigative journalism took her undercover in a mental institution and her report on the horrors she witnessed was incremental in changing mental health practice in USA in the late 19th century), due to Bisland arriving back in New York four days later, little is known about "the other woman". In attempt to find out more, I downloaded the ebook version of this book and think it's possibly the best £2.00 I've spent in the last year or so.

Eloquent and elegant, yet equally self-deprecating and openly humbled by her experience - one that she was honestly petrified by - following a young woman on her journey around the world, travelling solo, in the 1880s was like stepping back in time and understanding a period of history and travel that has long gone. And yet many of Bisland's observations rang true to me, recalling my own observations of the tropics, the colour of the sea and the feeling of being a million miles from home and yet very close to where you should be in life.

I urge anyone with a molecule of wanderlust in their bones to read this original and insightful account of travel in an age now long behind us.