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hfjarmer's Reviews (394)
adventurous
dark
emotional
hopeful
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Rating: 4.5 Stars
I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Red Rising. While I’m rating it 5 stars—though that might feel a bit generous for my true feelings—I genuinely can't pinpoint anything I disliked about the book. That’s rare for me, especially when it comes to Sci-Fi.
Red Rising offers a powerful commentary on the caste system, capitalism, and the societal powers that shape our world. Set on a futuristic Mars, it introduces a society where the Golds have colonized much of the universe. (Let’s be honest—if white men had the tech, they’d probably have colonized space by now.) Darrow, a “Red,” works as a Helldiver, mining Helium-3 in harsh conditions. The Reds believe they’re on the frontlines of scientific progress, helping terraform Mars. In reality, Mars is already terraformed, and they’ve been exploited as slaves, with their hard work benefiting the Golds. It’s only when Darrow’s wife, Eo, awakens him to the truth of their society’s oppression that he’s driven to action.
Red Rising is a captivating Sci-Fi novel, but it’s also a chilling exploration of race, class, and capitalistic greed. At its core, it’s about channeling your inner fire and rage for societal change—burning bright rather than burning out in the face of injustice. Brown’s writing is simple yet beautiful. He doesn’t rely on overly poetic flourishes; the raw, direct prose conveys everything the reader needs to understand. The voice is staccato and almost stilted, enhancing the authenticity of the narrative. Brown has created a unique and fascinating world, and while at first I was worried that I was going to be reading about bloodydamn space Footloose, I'm glad this turned out to be so much more than that.
I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Red Rising. While I’m rating it 5 stars—though that might feel a bit generous for my true feelings—I genuinely can't pinpoint anything I disliked about the book. That’s rare for me, especially when it comes to Sci-Fi.
Red Rising offers a powerful commentary on the caste system, capitalism, and the societal powers that shape our world. Set on a futuristic Mars, it introduces a society where the Golds have colonized much of the universe. (Let’s be honest—if white men had the tech, they’d probably have colonized space by now.) Darrow, a “Red,” works as a Helldiver, mining Helium-3 in harsh conditions. The Reds believe they’re on the frontlines of scientific progress, helping terraform Mars. In reality, Mars is already terraformed, and they’ve been exploited as slaves, with their hard work benefiting the Golds. It’s only when Darrow’s wife, Eo, awakens him to the truth of their society’s oppression that he’s driven to action.
Red Rising is a captivating Sci-Fi novel, but it’s also a chilling exploration of race, class, and capitalistic greed. At its core, it’s about channeling your inner fire and rage for societal change—burning bright rather than burning out in the face of injustice. Brown’s writing is simple yet beautiful. He doesn’t rely on overly poetic flourishes; the raw, direct prose conveys everything the reader needs to understand. The voice is staccato and almost stilted, enhancing the authenticity of the narrative. Brown has created a unique and fascinating world, and while at first I was worried that I was going to be reading about bloodydamn space Footloose, I'm glad this turned out to be so much more than that.
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
adventurous
emotional
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
This book was the perfect escape from my pre-wedding panic! I was completely hooked from start to finish, and it far surpassed the first one in the series. The plot moves at a fantastic pace—there wasn’t a single dull moment. I absolutely love Kane and Arwen’s dynamic; it’s a classic romance without ever feeling cheesy or overdone. The ending has left me eagerly anticipating the final book!
That’s all I have the brain space for, but highly recommend for romantasy lovers.
funny
lighthearted
relaxing
medium-paced
3.5 ⭐
*Yarn Harlot* by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is a fun, lighthearted read that explores the addictive properties of fiber crafts, particularly knitting. While I’m far from a skilled knitter (Stephanie makes a distinction between lowercase-k knitters and capital-K Knitters—though whatever is below the former, that’s me), I do love to crochet. Despite her known preference for knitting over crochet, which I’ve chosen to politely overlook, much of the humor and frustration she describes applies to both crafts.
Pearl-McPhee brilliantly captures the dual nature of knitting (and crocheting, for that matter): equal parts therapeutic and maddening. Her writing is full of niche humor that, while it didn’t have me laughing out loud, kept a bemused and knowing smirk on my face throughout. The book nails the relatable struggles—like frogging your work, ignoring pattern instructions in favor of sheer stubbornness, and the dreaded pre-holiday crafting panic.
Though my knitting experience is minimal, *Yarn Harlot* has certainly helped me avoid any temptations toward fair isle, intarsia, or—heaven forbid—steeking. I really enjoyed this book and am looking forward to persevering in my attempts to becoming a knitter.
*Yarn Harlot* by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is a fun, lighthearted read that explores the addictive properties of fiber crafts, particularly knitting. While I’m far from a skilled knitter (Stephanie makes a distinction between lowercase-k knitters and capital-K Knitters—though whatever is below the former, that’s me), I do love to crochet. Despite her known preference for knitting over crochet, which I’ve chosen to politely overlook, much of the humor and frustration she describes applies to both crafts.
Pearl-McPhee brilliantly captures the dual nature of knitting (and crocheting, for that matter): equal parts therapeutic and maddening. Her writing is full of niche humor that, while it didn’t have me laughing out loud, kept a bemused and knowing smirk on my face throughout. The book nails the relatable struggles—like frogging your work, ignoring pattern instructions in favor of sheer stubbornness, and the dreaded pre-holiday crafting panic.
Though my knitting experience is minimal, *Yarn Harlot* has certainly helped me avoid any temptations toward fair isle, intarsia, or—heaven forbid—steeking. I really enjoyed this book and am looking forward to persevering in my attempts to becoming a knitter.
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
dark
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
slow-paced
*Four Thousand Weeks* by Oliver Burkeman offers an exploration of time management, but whether this book is the best use of your "finite human life" might depend on how much existential angst you can handle. The book dives deeply into the fact that life is short—about 4,000 weeks on average—and nothing ultimately matters in a grand, cosmic sense. If that sort of existential realization sends you spiraling, this might not be the read for you. Burkeman’s whole argument is reliant on the reader agreeing that ultimately you will never have all the time to do the things you want to do, and somehow this should release you from the expectation, but personally I felt this was just really reductive and nihilistic in a way that is not new. It’s giving “we live on a floating rock” which isn’t the most helpful mindset for someone who is trying to derive meaning from their cosmically brief life.
Though there are a few nuggets of wisdom, like the idea that not everything we do needs to have a productive goal. You don’t have to be working toward a marathon to go for a simple run, you can just run for the sake of the activity. The book's lengthy and meandering sentences make it hard to stay grounded in one place, which can be confusing and I was not a fan of his writing. He spends so much time quoting other people that it’s a wonder he gets author credit on this at all. This was just another self-help let down where if you read the first chapter you’ve read the whole thing.
Though there are a few nuggets of wisdom, like the idea that not everything we do needs to have a productive goal. You don’t have to be working toward a marathon to go for a simple run, you can just run for the sake of the activity. The book's lengthy and meandering sentences make it hard to stay grounded in one place, which can be confusing and I was not a fan of his writing. He spends so much time quoting other people that it’s a wonder he gets author credit on this at all. This was just another self-help let down where if you read the first chapter you’ve read the whole thing.
adventurous
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
While I can imagine that The Lightning Thief would have resonated more deeply with me had I read it during its peak popularity, I still found it to be an engaging and delightful story about the son of Poseidon. As an adult revisiting YA literature, I appreciated how the author, Rick Riordan, makes choices that resonate with younger audiences. The exploration of themes like feeling "different" in school is both relatable and heartfelt. I particularly liked how Riordan addresses sensitive topics such as ADHD and dyslexia, showing how they can be both challenges and strengths. It’s refreshing to see a narrative that celebrates uniqueness rather than shying away from it.
Having grown up with Harry Potter, I admit I might be a bit biased in my comparisons. While it’s often not advisable to pit series against each other, I do feel that Harry Potter retains a certain timelessness that makes it enjoyable for adults, whereas The Lightning Thief is more rooted in the YA genre and has a straightforward narrative style. That said, I still found it to be a charming read that captures the essence of youthful adventure and friendship. Overall, I’m glad I took the time to experience this modern classic!
Having grown up with Harry Potter, I admit I might be a bit biased in my comparisons. While it’s often not advisable to pit series against each other, I do feel that Harry Potter retains a certain timelessness that makes it enjoyable for adults, whereas The Lightning Thief is more rooted in the YA genre and has a straightforward narrative style. That said, I still found it to be a charming read that captures the essence of youthful adventure and friendship. Overall, I’m glad I took the time to experience this modern classic!
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This is, without a doubt, the best book I’ve read all year. Nestled perfectly within my favorite genre—“books about mentally unstable, unlikable women”—it’s a small genre, but it exists. Sorrow and Bliss is one of those books that depressed me from the sheer fact that I will never be this good of a writer. The writing is like an exposed nerve—raw, poignant, and laced with humor in all the right places. Meg Mason masterfully captures the experience of living with an unnamed “thing” that feels like it's lurking beneath your skin, controlling your mind like Plankton in that one *SpongeBob* episode.
The main character, Martha, is so vividly portrayed that the novel almost reads like an actual memoir rather than fiction. Mason brings to light the power of a label—the liberating sensation of naming the thing that has tormented you for years—yet she never actually names Martha’s illness. This approach highlights the complexity of mental illness, with its overlapping symptoms and the endless quest for the right diagnosis, the right treatment, the elusive sense of being "set straight."
I've come across some negative reviews of this book, mostly centered around Martha’s unlikability. I get it—she is a genuinely unlikable character/person. But I think that’s the point. Martha is a testament to the depths that mental health struggles can drag you to. "Being mentally ill doesn’t mean you get to be a bad person," people say. And they’re right. But it also doesn’t mean that you won’t be a bad person at times. When you’re so consumed by self-destruction that you hurt others and yourself without a second thought, you feel the need to punish and be punished. This is where the brilliant line from Martha’s mother comes into play—drawing the line between being a victim and being accountable for your own life. At some point, you have to pull yourself together and realize that things aren’t happening *to* you; they’re happening *for* you, as Mason so aptly puts it.
Martha’s journey is a powerful testament to the struggle of being controlled by your own mind, that helpless feeling of drowning. Despite the unwavering love and support she receives from her family and husband, she ultimately has to be the one to pull herself out of the darkness. She has to want to live, both literally and figuratively.
I could talk about this book for hours. The writing is genuinely funny at times, and Ingrid’s character might just be my favorite. Mason adds little details throughout the book that were so perfect that I was actively thinking “how does she come up with this?” Everything about this book was a *chef’s kiss*—a solid 6/5 for me, and I’m so glad I read it. That said, this book isn’t for everyone. If you hated *Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine*, *My Year of Rest and Relaxation*, *The Guest*, or anything similar, then consider this your warning—*Sorrow and Bliss* might not be for you and I don’t want to hear it.
The main character, Martha, is so vividly portrayed that the novel almost reads like an actual memoir rather than fiction. Mason brings to light the power of a label—the liberating sensation of naming the thing that has tormented you for years—yet she never actually names Martha’s illness. This approach highlights the complexity of mental illness, with its overlapping symptoms and the endless quest for the right diagnosis, the right treatment, the elusive sense of being "set straight."
I've come across some negative reviews of this book, mostly centered around Martha’s unlikability. I get it—she is a genuinely unlikable character/person. But I think that’s the point. Martha is a testament to the depths that mental health struggles can drag you to. "Being mentally ill doesn’t mean you get to be a bad person," people say. And they’re right. But it also doesn’t mean that you won’t be a bad person at times. When you’re so consumed by self-destruction that you hurt others and yourself without a second thought, you feel the need to punish and be punished. This is where the brilliant line from Martha’s mother comes into play—drawing the line between being a victim and being accountable for your own life. At some point, you have to pull yourself together and realize that things aren’t happening *to* you; they’re happening *for* you, as Mason so aptly puts it.
Martha’s journey is a powerful testament to the struggle of being controlled by your own mind, that helpless feeling of drowning. Despite the unwavering love and support she receives from her family and husband, she ultimately has to be the one to pull herself out of the darkness. She has to want to live, both literally and figuratively.
I could talk about this book for hours. The writing is genuinely funny at times, and Ingrid’s character might just be my favorite. Mason adds little details throughout the book that were so perfect that I was actively thinking “how does she come up with this?” Everything about this book was a *chef’s kiss*—a solid 6/5 for me, and I’m so glad I read it. That said, this book isn’t for everyone. If you hated *Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine*, *My Year of Rest and Relaxation*, *The Guest*, or anything similar, then consider this your warning—*Sorrow and Bliss* might not be for you and I don’t want to hear it.