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howlinglibraries's Reviews (1.85k)
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Vol. 1: Awakening ★★★★★
Vol. 2: The Blood ★★★★★
Vol. 3: Haven ★★★★★
When I originally read Monstress, Vol. 1 a couple of years ago, I gave it 3.5 stars. I loved the artwork and the character designs, but had a hard time getting into the story, world-building, mythos, etc., and also really struggled through the tougher triggers (such as child trafficking, child abuse/torture/murder, assault, etc.). That said, this is the perfect example of why I update my reviews when I reread books: because, sometimes, our opinions can drastically change during rereads, and there's nothing wrong with updating your reviews to reflect that!
All of that aside, I'm pleased to say that I did not hesitate to lift my rating to 5 stars when I reread this beautiful, incredibly in-depth graphic novel. I thought the lore was incredible, I adored the world-building, and the hard-to-stomach aspects of the plot didn't alarm me as much (presumably due to my consuming more "dark" content lately than I did in 2016/17 and becoming less easily bothered, maybe?). I would still caution anyone who is triggered by child abuse/death to think long and hard before picking this one up, but if you can read those topics, this is a really incredible story with a lot of complex characters and nuances to the battling sides. I can't wait to continue the series.
Lumberjanes, Vol. 3: A Terrible Plan
Grace Ellis, ND Stevenson, Shannon Watters, Faith Erin Hicks
In volume 3 of Lumberjanes, we start off with the girls' attempts to earn their If You Got It, Haunt It badge, complete with the stereotypical circle-around-the-campfire-and-tell-ghost-stories plot, flashlights and all. After their night of terror, the Lumberjanes have a well-deserved day off; naturally, though, no day can go as planned with the Roanoke crew. Molly and Mal have a date - er, picnic that goes horribly awry while the rest of our beloved Lumberjanes manage to turn the most boring day ever into... you guessed it, a disaster.
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4 STARS
This issue started out incredibly promising with the ghost story arc; Stevenson and Watters had the brilliant idea to have each story narrated by a different artist, which made for a very unique and entertaining graphic novel experience. The art styles for each story somehow seemed to fit the narrator, right down to the font each artist chose. (Like, can we talk about how fantastically fitting the no-nonsense style of Jen's parts were?)
Sadly, though the ghost stories were everything I had grown accustomed to in Lumberjanes, the rest of this volume was a little bit "meh" for me. I know, I'm just as shocked as you guys are - I mean, Mal/Molly is THE OTP, and they finally go on a date, so ??? What gives, Destiny?
The date started off cute, quickly moved to sad and a little bit awkward, and then just turned into another wacky adventure the moment things started getting deep. I mean, I wasn't asking for much, but I did have hopes that their time alone would allow for a bit of back story and character development, and while the story did tilt in that direction, it quickly veered away and left me a little bit disappointed.
As for the rest of the Roanoke girls, their antics were hilarious as always, but it felt like a lot of "filler" material; they set off on a mission to earn the most boring badges they could find, turned each task into a mild disaster, rinse and repeat.
On a less important (but still worthy of mention) note, I really did not care much at all for the illustrations in the last few chapters of this issue. I'm sure Carolyn Nowak's style is a favorite of many, but it just didn't quite jive with me. I miss Brooke Allen.
I still enjoyed volume 3 thoroughly, but it was definitely not up to par with volumes 1 & 2.
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4 STARS
This issue started out incredibly promising with the ghost story arc; Stevenson and Watters had the brilliant idea to have each story narrated by a different artist, which made for a very unique and entertaining graphic novel experience. The art styles for each story somehow seemed to fit the narrator, right down to the font each artist chose. (Like, can we talk about how fantastically fitting the no-nonsense style of Jen's parts were?)
Sadly, though the ghost stories were everything I had grown accustomed to in Lumberjanes, the rest of this volume was a little bit "meh" for me. I know, I'm just as shocked as you guys are - I mean, Mal/Molly is THE OTP, and they finally go on a date, so ??? What gives, Destiny?
The date started off cute, quickly moved to sad and a little bit awkward, and then just turned into another wacky adventure the moment things started getting deep. I mean, I wasn't asking for much, but I did have hopes that their time alone would allow for a bit of back story and character development, and while the story did tilt in that direction, it quickly veered away and left me a little bit disappointed.
As for the rest of the Roanoke girls, their antics were hilarious as always, but it felt like a lot of "filler" material; they set off on a mission to earn the most boring badges they could find, turned each task into a mild disaster, rinse and repeat.
On a less important (but still worthy of mention) note, I really did not care much at all for the illustrations in the last few chapters of this issue. I'm sure Carolyn Nowak's style is a favorite of many, but it just didn't quite jive with me. I miss Brooke Allen.
I still enjoyed volume 3 thoroughly, but it was definitely not up to par with volumes 1 & 2.
The monster paused again. You really aren't afraid, are you?
"No," Conor said. "Not of you, anyway."
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When his mother's illness takes a turn for the worse, Conor finds himself somehow unsurprised by the yew tree that has suddenly sprouted arms, legs, and a face; a monster at his window, telling him stories and asking questions Conor isn't ready to answer yet. Questions about nightmares, and a far-away father, and a dying mother, and the lonesome invisibility that Conor has found himself in ever since his secret was spread.
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I cannot rave enough about this book. I knew it would be a hard read going into it, but I had no idea that it would be so beautiful, or wreck me so entirely in such a short number of pages. Conor's raw vulnerability makes me want to hold him tight and carry him through the pain of a child who knows he is facing the world far more alone than he should be. The yew tree/monster is an intriguing character that teaches, gives and takes, and at times, makes me wish I'd had my very own yew tree through a few patches in life. Please do yourself a favor and pick up an illustrated copy, because the drawings are gorgeous and pulled me in so much further. Do not pass this one up just because it is a "children's" title; perhaps, even, the way it relates to a fearful inner child in all of us is part of what makes it so amazing.
"No," Conor said. "Not of you, anyway."
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When his mother's illness takes a turn for the worse, Conor finds himself somehow unsurprised by the yew tree that has suddenly sprouted arms, legs, and a face; a monster at his window, telling him stories and asking questions Conor isn't ready to answer yet. Questions about nightmares, and a far-away father, and a dying mother, and the lonesome invisibility that Conor has found himself in ever since his secret was spread.
---
I cannot rave enough about this book. I knew it would be a hard read going into it, but I had no idea that it would be so beautiful, or wreck me so entirely in such a short number of pages. Conor's raw vulnerability makes me want to hold him tight and carry him through the pain of a child who knows he is facing the world far more alone than he should be. The yew tree/monster is an intriguing character that teaches, gives and takes, and at times, makes me wish I'd had my very own yew tree through a few patches in life. Please do yourself a favor and pick up an illustrated copy, because the drawings are gorgeous and pulled me in so much further. Do not pass this one up just because it is a "children's" title; perhaps, even, the way it relates to a fearful inner child in all of us is part of what makes it so amazing.
Audrina has always lived in the shadow of her older, deceased sister. Daddy wants her to meet up to the standards of his firstborn, but how can she ever live up when she can barely even remember one day to the next?
2/5 stars. I've enjoyed other VC Andrews titles I've read, but this one was such a dreadful chore to work through. When I finally skimmed the last fifth or so of it, I found an ending that was predictable and disappointing.
2/5 stars. I've enjoyed other VC Andrews titles I've read, but this one was such a dreadful chore to work through. When I finally skimmed the last fifth or so of it, I found an ending that was predictable and disappointing.
My tenth or fifteenth reread, and these never get old.
“The trouble with denial is that when the truth comes, you aren't ready.”
Winter break has come, and while everyone else has gone home to see families and significant others for a few weeks, Marin would be perfectly content to stay in her dorm room, alone with her grief, pretending that her life from before doesn't exist anymore. Life is never quite that simple, though, and Mabel is coming to visit, shoving her way into Marin's after. Marin has a lot of skeletons in her closet that need to be faced, but can she handle letting go of her denial long enough to heal - and to move forward with Mabel?
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This book is intentionally vague to start off with; you realize very quickly that the grief that Marin is recovering from has something to do with her grandfather, who raised her (as her mother passed away in a surfing incident when Marin was a baby), but it takes a long time to dig into the meat of what happened, and why it was so traumatic that Marin completely ran away from her old life, as well as all of her former friends and loved ones. Due to the ambiguity of the writing, I actually felt like the beginning of the book dragged a little bit. I kept thinking that there was no way that the twist was going to be a big enough one to be worth spending the entire book drawing the scenario out, but without spoiling anything, I will just say that I was pleasantly stunned by the ending.
I didn't realize this was an LGBTQ+ book when I picked it up - because I have somehow been living under a rock and had no idea that Nina LaCour was an LGBTQ+ own-voices author - so I was taken off-guard early in the book when the reveal occurred that Mabel was not only a former best friend, but also a former lover; the detail gave a really nice taste of tension to her entire visit, and kept me guessing as to how their relationship would end up.
The writing itself was enjoyable, though nothing truly remarkable; Marin is a likable narrator who has made some questionable choices, but not without reason. The way she desperately wants to still be liked by Mabel, despite having been the one to disappear on their friendship, felt so authentic, especially in the way her walls gradually came down. I found myself frequently frustrated by her choices, yet still completely in understanding of why she was making them.
I can't say I really recall any parts of this book particularly touching me, making me laugh, making me pause and think, or evoking any other noteworthy opinions - until the ending, when I was completely and fully shattered. I sobbed my way through the last several chapters, and closed the back cover feeling like I had undergone some brutal, but beautiful, catharsis. The ending of this book alone solidified it as a 4-star read for me and put Nina right up near the top of my "authors I need to read more from" list.
I would recommend We Are Okay to anyone who enjoys a solid YA contemporary about grief, family (blood-related or not), positive lesbian/bi rep, and a heaping dose of heartache.
Winter break has come, and while everyone else has gone home to see families and significant others for a few weeks, Marin would be perfectly content to stay in her dorm room, alone with her grief, pretending that her life from before doesn't exist anymore. Life is never quite that simple, though, and Mabel is coming to visit, shoving her way into Marin's after. Marin has a lot of skeletons in her closet that need to be faced, but can she handle letting go of her denial long enough to heal - and to move forward with Mabel?
---
This book is intentionally vague to start off with; you realize very quickly that the grief that Marin is recovering from has something to do with her grandfather, who raised her (as her mother passed away in a surfing incident when Marin was a baby), but it takes a long time to dig into the meat of what happened, and why it was so traumatic that Marin completely ran away from her old life, as well as all of her former friends and loved ones. Due to the ambiguity of the writing, I actually felt like the beginning of the book dragged a little bit. I kept thinking that there was no way that the twist was going to be a big enough one to be worth spending the entire book drawing the scenario out, but without spoiling anything, I will just say that I was pleasantly stunned by the ending.
I didn't realize this was an LGBTQ+ book when I picked it up - because I have somehow been living under a rock and had no idea that Nina LaCour was an LGBTQ+ own-voices author - so I was taken off-guard early in the book when the reveal occurred that Mabel was not only a former best friend, but also a former lover; the detail gave a really nice taste of tension to her entire visit, and kept me guessing as to how their relationship would end up.
The writing itself was enjoyable, though nothing truly remarkable; Marin is a likable narrator who has made some questionable choices, but not without reason. The way she desperately wants to still be liked by Mabel, despite having been the one to disappear on their friendship, felt so authentic, especially in the way her walls gradually came down. I found myself frequently frustrated by her choices, yet still completely in understanding of why she was making them.
I can't say I really recall any parts of this book particularly touching me, making me laugh, making me pause and think, or evoking any other noteworthy opinions - until the ending, when I was completely and fully shattered. I sobbed my way through the last several chapters, and closed the back cover feeling like I had undergone some brutal, but beautiful, catharsis. The ending of this book alone solidified it as a 4-star read for me and put Nina right up near the top of my "authors I need to read more from" list.
I would recommend We Are Okay to anyone who enjoys a solid YA contemporary about grief, family (blood-related or not), positive lesbian/bi rep, and a heaping dose of heartache.
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The idea that seems to be presented is that the KonMarie method is this earth-shattering organization idea, but I felt like it really was just throwing away everything you could possibly part with, which seems to defeat the purpose. Is it really "tidying" when all you're doing is throwing away half of your belongings? I do agree with the idea of de-cluttering, but I have a hard time believing that nobody who has ever used this method has "rebounded", as she keeps claiming.
On another note, this woman is bizarre as hell. Who honestly has the time to thank every object in their purse when they clean it? And goddamn it, Kondo, you can take my books from me when you pry them from my cold, dead fingers. YES, they ALL spark joy when I touch them. REALLY.
On another note, if you're looking for weird, unintended humor, 5 stars.
On another note, this woman is bizarre as hell. Who honestly has the time to thank every object in their purse when they clean it? And goddamn it, Kondo, you can take my books from me when you pry them from my cold, dead fingers. YES, they ALL spark joy when I touch them. REALLY.
On another note, if you're looking for weird, unintended humor, 5 stars.
“I'm sorry, but please don't be mad at me for reliving all of it. History is all you left me.”
Oh, where to start with this one. I have a lot of feelings about this book, and I guess I’ll just go ahead and get this out of the way: despite the fact that I still gave it a decent rating, I’m tremendously disappointed, because I thought for sure that this would be a 5-star read for me. I adored Adam’s most recent release, They Both Die at the End, to the degree that I put him on my auto-buy list immediately. I’d heard such good things about History that I went into it fully convinced it would be just as good, but that wasn’t entirely the case.
“I was in love and love died and the pain you've left isn't pain I can see myself having the strength to face again.”
First of all, Adam’s writing is not to blame here. I think he’s a magnificent storyteller; his voice is powerful and relentless, his books are filled to the brim with lovable quotes and moments that you just have to stop and soak in for a moment, and his plots are devastating, haunting, and downright beautiful. The story was not the problem. Griffin was.
“History remains with the people who will appreciate it most.”
Griffin, in theory, should’ve been a great character; he’s grieving and heartsick (we stan an angsty protagonist in this house), he’s a Potter fanatic, he’s a little cinnamon roll, and he offers a portrayal of OCD that, while at times incredibly repetitive, is brutally honest and takes the representation to a degree of accuracy (for some people with OCD—not all, obviously) that most authors aren’t willing to tackle.
“I'll never understand how time can make a moment feel as close as yesterday and as far as years.”
Unfortunately, all of the benefits to his character are overshadowed by how tremendously small his worldview is. Despite the fact that so many other people in his life are grieving alongside him, or perhaps even have reason to grieve more than Griffin does, he can’t possibly fathom the idea of anyone being half as broken as he is, and so he causes constant pain to the people around him. Perhaps this was intentional on Adam’s part, as a way to offer a particularly flawed protagonist, but it was just hard to stomach at times.
“History is nothing. It can be recycled or thrown away completely. It isn’t this sacred treasure chest I mistook it to be. We were something, but history isn’t enough to keep something alive forever.”
Throughout the story, as we alternate timelines between the past and present, it’s evident that we’re slowly building up to a devastating confession of Griffin’s, but by the time it hits, he’d become so unlikable for me that it didn’t even affect me emotionally. I felt like I had missed something huge.
I heard so many people say that this story crushed them entirely, that when I closed the cover with a dry eye—me, someone who cries over those Budweiser commercials with the dogs and the horses?—I knew something hadn’t clicked right. Thus, here we are, with a depressing rating that’s far lower than I thought I would ever give an Adam Silvera book, and if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be over here, moping.
