Take a photo of a barcode or cover
1.26k reviews by:
inkandplasma
.jpg)
Full review: https://inkandplasma.wordpress.com/2020/06/15/blood-countess-by-lana-popovic-review/
This was the kind of book that the entire time you’re reading it, you’re waiting for things to keep getting worse. Which, they do. Anna is not in for a fun time during this book. I really liked the way the narration worked in this book. We were following Anna and seeing Elizabeth through her eyes, yet I still had a strong sense of ‘something isn’t right’ the entire time. It made for a fun and unnerving read, where I wanted to shout through the page at Anna to make her put together the same clues that I was piecing together. Anna was a great main character and so easy to empathise with because she really, truly wanted to do good. And yet. Watching her get suckered into Elizabeth’s aura, seeing her get drawn into her web and begin to justify and reason away her actions, made for a horridly dark and intoxicating read. As we see Elizabeth turn from a charming sweetheart into manipulative monster, it made me wonder whether she really was getting worse, or if she’d always been that way and if me as the reader was as blind as Anna in the face of her charms.
This book is pretty dark and gory, and that’s no surprise given that it covers the history of Elizabeth Báthory. There’s death and torture and frankly far too many and varied ways to use blood, but what I found really stuck out was the way the book handled toxic relationships. How we can see toxic relationships in others, then miss the signs in our own relationships, and the idea that if people are forced into horrible deeds, how do we measure their own culpability and responsibility for their actions? The relationship between Elizabeth and Anna grows from friendship to love then takes a dark turn into possession and ownership, and though the topics here are gory and gothic and most people aren’t dating highly prolific serial killers (I hope!), the red flags that Elizabeth shows and Anna sometimes sees and sometimes overlooks are important ones to be shown in fiction and highlighted as problematic.
The ending was a little abrupt, but honestly? I didn’t mind that so much. To me the real joy in this book was the beautifully gothic way it unfolded, and how we saw characters twist and change under the influence of a powerful, cruel and manipulative leader. The story was so quick to read and the ending was satisfying and neatly tied, if a little convenient. Honestly, my only real disappointment is that I’d have loved this book to be adult instead of YA, because I wanted more blood and gore and gross-ness.
This was the kind of book that the entire time you’re reading it, you’re waiting for things to keep getting worse. Which, they do. Anna is not in for a fun time during this book. I really liked the way the narration worked in this book. We were following Anna and seeing Elizabeth through her eyes, yet I still had a strong sense of ‘something isn’t right’ the entire time. It made for a fun and unnerving read, where I wanted to shout through the page at Anna to make her put together the same clues that I was piecing together. Anna was a great main character and so easy to empathise with because she really, truly wanted to do good. And yet. Watching her get suckered into Elizabeth’s aura, seeing her get drawn into her web and begin to justify and reason away her actions, made for a horridly dark and intoxicating read. As we see Elizabeth turn from a charming sweetheart into manipulative monster, it made me wonder whether she really was getting worse, or if she’d always been that way and if me as the reader was as blind as Anna in the face of her charms.
This book is pretty dark and gory, and that’s no surprise given that it covers the history of Elizabeth Báthory. There’s death and torture and frankly far too many and varied ways to use blood, but what I found really stuck out was the way the book handled toxic relationships. How we can see toxic relationships in others, then miss the signs in our own relationships, and the idea that if people are forced into horrible deeds, how do we measure their own culpability and responsibility for their actions? The relationship between Elizabeth and Anna grows from friendship to love then takes a dark turn into possession and ownership, and though the topics here are gory and gothic and most people aren’t dating highly prolific serial killers (I hope!), the red flags that Elizabeth shows and Anna sometimes sees and sometimes overlooks are important ones to be shown in fiction and highlighted as problematic.
The ending was a little abrupt, but honestly? I didn’t mind that so much. To me the real joy in this book was the beautifully gothic way it unfolded, and how we saw characters twist and change under the influence of a powerful, cruel and manipulative leader. The story was so quick to read and the ending was satisfying and neatly tied, if a little convenient. Honestly, my only real disappointment is that I’d have loved this book to be adult instead of YA, because I wanted more blood and gore and gross-ness.
Full review: https://inkandplasma.wordpress.com/2020/06/18/bearmouth-by-liz-hyder-review/
Trigger warnings:
Thanks to Pushkin Press for sending me a finished copy of this book. It hasn’t affected my honest opinion.
Bearmouth is set in a mine, where men and boys work hard for pennies to make money for the Master. But that’s okay, because the Master is the descendent of the Mayker, and the Mayker is their god. One day the Mayker will give them a sign, and they’ll all be free. I don’t know a lot about the labour history surrounding mines, just what I’ve picked up from other reading about Victorian-era forced labour and some that I remember, weirdly enough, from a ghost tour I did years ago that hit several workhouses. From what I can tell this book is an alternate history that ties in aspects of real history that felt very true, particularly where religion was used as a method of control against the workers. It is not by any measure a happy, easy-going book, but I do think it’s an incredibly moving story written in a fascinating way.
The narrative style immediately jumps out from the first page, when we see Newt practicing their letters, or ‘lernin my lettuz’ as they write it. Newt was brought into the mine as a ‘young’, able to fit into small coal seams and climb through passages adults wouldn’t be able to fit into, and therefore was illiterate. The whole book, to me, feels like a diary in which they’re practicing their writing and the spelling does improve throughout the book as they learn more and more. I liked that the lack of literacy wasn’t used to imply that Newt, or any of the other miners, were stupid. They’re all clever people, working hard at the job they know well, they’ve just never had the privilege of being taught to read and write. Something about this narrative style made me feel really strongly emotionally connected to Newt. Through Newt I fell in love with all of the characters that made up their makeshift family and I felt like I was experiencing everything with them, along for the ride inside their head, and that made for the tensest read of the year so far. By the end of the book I was on the edge of my seat with nerves, waiting anxiously to find out how Newt’s story would end. It’s rare I get a genuine adrenaline rush from a book but Bearmouth gave one to me.
This is a dark story. Men and boys are being worked twice as hard and criminally underpaid, controlled and manipulated through money, food and social shame – the ‘awkwud men’ were those who caused trouble and should be avoided. There’s also fairly explicit on-page sexual assault and attempted rape so please read with caution. The darkness of the book perfectly suited the setting that Liz Hyder created. The people in power behaved monstrously, because they can, and loss comes thick and fast in a world were people are treated as a replaceable resource. However, I didn’t finish this book feeling miserable, I feel hopeful and empowered above all else. Especially in the social climate we’re facing right now, there was something overwhelmingly powerful about reading about a group of seemingly powerless, subjugated individuals fighting together against oppression. I think despite the darkness this is very much a story about hope. As Newt says themself about revolution:
Trigger warnings:
Spoiler
attempted rape, implied off-page rape and sexual assault, brief mentions of racism, beatings, murder, manslaughter, grief.Thanks to Pushkin Press for sending me a finished copy of this book. It hasn’t affected my honest opinion.
Bearmouth is set in a mine, where men and boys work hard for pennies to make money for the Master. But that’s okay, because the Master is the descendent of the Mayker, and the Mayker is their god. One day the Mayker will give them a sign, and they’ll all be free. I don’t know a lot about the labour history surrounding mines, just what I’ve picked up from other reading about Victorian-era forced labour and some that I remember, weirdly enough, from a ghost tour I did years ago that hit several workhouses. From what I can tell this book is an alternate history that ties in aspects of real history that felt very true, particularly where religion was used as a method of control against the workers. It is not by any measure a happy, easy-going book, but I do think it’s an incredibly moving story written in a fascinating way.
The narrative style immediately jumps out from the first page, when we see Newt practicing their letters, or ‘lernin my lettuz’ as they write it. Newt was brought into the mine as a ‘young’, able to fit into small coal seams and climb through passages adults wouldn’t be able to fit into, and therefore was illiterate. The whole book, to me, feels like a diary in which they’re practicing their writing and the spelling does improve throughout the book as they learn more and more. I liked that the lack of literacy wasn’t used to imply that Newt, or any of the other miners, were stupid. They’re all clever people, working hard at the job they know well, they’ve just never had the privilege of being taught to read and write. Something about this narrative style made me feel really strongly emotionally connected to Newt. Through Newt I fell in love with all of the characters that made up their makeshift family and I felt like I was experiencing everything with them, along for the ride inside their head, and that made for the tensest read of the year so far. By the end of the book I was on the edge of my seat with nerves, waiting anxiously to find out how Newt’s story would end. It’s rare I get a genuine adrenaline rush from a book but Bearmouth gave one to me.
This is a dark story. Men and boys are being worked twice as hard and criminally underpaid, controlled and manipulated through money, food and social shame – the ‘awkwud men’ were those who caused trouble and should be avoided. There’s also fairly explicit on-page sexual assault and attempted rape so please read with caution. The darkness of the book perfectly suited the setting that Liz Hyder created. The people in power behaved monstrously, because they can, and loss comes thick and fast in a world were people are treated as a replaceable resource. However, I didn’t finish this book feeling miserable, I feel hopeful and empowered above all else. Especially in the social climate we’re facing right now, there was something overwhelmingly powerful about reading about a group of seemingly powerless, subjugated individuals fighting together against oppression. I think despite the darkness this is very much a story about hope. As Newt says themself about revolution:
Taykes more than one. One to start it and uvvers to believe it can happen.
Full review: https://inkandplasma.wordpress.com/2020/06/29/the-lightest-object-in-the-universe-by-kimi-eisele-blog-tour-review/
I’ve read a lot of books about the world ending, but Kimi Eisele’s THE LIGHTEST OBJECT IN THE UNIVERSE is really a story about the world beginning. And god, it’s beautiful. It absolutely has its dark moments, covering both the mass loss of any apocalyptic setting and the loss of friends and family in the aftermath. There’s also an extremely dark scene towards the end of the novel, related to the trigger warnings listed at the top of my post. Those dark moments are perfectly balanced though, and what I loved about this book was the hope threaded through the entire thing. When I finished the final page I honestly hugged my kindle to my chest for a minute because it left such a positive impression on me that it had me a little weepy.
Initially I was a little concerned that I might not be well suited for the book because I’m used to fast-paced books, but after the 30% mark I couldn’t put it down anyway! THE LIGHTEST OBJECT is slow paced, but in a beautifully measured way. It’s not rushing towards a finale but slowly building. Which is fitting, because THE LIGHTEST OBJECT IN THE UNIVERSE is all about rebuilding. I think that’s what makes it so appealing, especially with the world the way it is right now. Rather than focusing on the immediate destruction like most post-apocalyptic stories I’ve read, Beatrix and Carson’s story is about societies rebuilding themselves from the ground up. And it was incredible to see.
People in this story are, with a few significant exceptions, inherently good. They’re protecting themselves and their family but they’re not going out of their way to hurt each other if they can share and show kindness instead. There’s a beautiful moment when a moment of conflict is resolved by Carson teaching would-be robbers to identify safe food, instead of attacking back. I loved seeing people working to better their community, even if it did make me realise I have absolutely no marketable skills in-case-of-apocalypse. I need to learn how to grow food or dig a well, stat.
The sub-plot around Blue was interesting but honestly? I was so interested in the Halcyon radio station and the development of Beatrix’s settlement, and in Carson’s cross-country trek that even if that big (and well-written, don’t get me wrong) plot was removed, I’d still have adored this book. The characters were all just realistically well-rounded, skilled and flawed in lots of different and fascinating ways, and I loved seeing how people fit their skills to the situation to all help out.
I struggled a little with the POV switches, though that may have been the formatting in the eARC that I had. The POV between Carson and Beatrix switched without much warning or significant line breaks. Even if that wasn’t a formatting mistake in the eARC I did get used to it eventually and it didn’t detract much from the reading experience. In the end I absolutely loved this book and if anyone has been feeling a lot of ‘the world sucks’ blues lately, I would recommend THE LIGHTEST OBJECT IN THE UNIVERSE – the ending made me feel like there was a whole new world waiting to be built from scratch.
I’ve read a lot of books about the world ending, but Kimi Eisele’s THE LIGHTEST OBJECT IN THE UNIVERSE is really a story about the world beginning. And god, it’s beautiful. It absolutely has its dark moments, covering both the mass loss of any apocalyptic setting and the loss of friends and family in the aftermath. There’s also an extremely dark scene towards the end of the novel, related to the trigger warnings listed at the top of my post. Those dark moments are perfectly balanced though, and what I loved about this book was the hope threaded through the entire thing. When I finished the final page I honestly hugged my kindle to my chest for a minute because it left such a positive impression on me that it had me a little weepy.
Initially I was a little concerned that I might not be well suited for the book because I’m used to fast-paced books, but after the 30% mark I couldn’t put it down anyway! THE LIGHTEST OBJECT is slow paced, but in a beautifully measured way. It’s not rushing towards a finale but slowly building. Which is fitting, because THE LIGHTEST OBJECT IN THE UNIVERSE is all about rebuilding. I think that’s what makes it so appealing, especially with the world the way it is right now. Rather than focusing on the immediate destruction like most post-apocalyptic stories I’ve read, Beatrix and Carson’s story is about societies rebuilding themselves from the ground up. And it was incredible to see.
People in this story are, with a few significant exceptions, inherently good. They’re protecting themselves and their family but they’re not going out of their way to hurt each other if they can share and show kindness instead. There’s a beautiful moment when a moment of conflict is resolved by Carson teaching would-be robbers to identify safe food, instead of attacking back. I loved seeing people working to better their community, even if it did make me realise I have absolutely no marketable skills in-case-of-apocalypse. I need to learn how to grow food or dig a well, stat.
The sub-plot around Blue was interesting but honestly? I was so interested in the Halcyon radio station and the development of Beatrix’s settlement, and in Carson’s cross-country trek that even if that big (and well-written, don’t get me wrong) plot was removed, I’d still have adored this book. The characters were all just realistically well-rounded, skilled and flawed in lots of different and fascinating ways, and I loved seeing how people fit their skills to the situation to all help out.
I struggled a little with the POV switches, though that may have been the formatting in the eARC that I had. The POV between Carson and Beatrix switched without much warning or significant line breaks. Even if that wasn’t a formatting mistake in the eARC I did get used to it eventually and it didn’t detract much from the reading experience. In the end I absolutely loved this book and if anyone has been feeling a lot of ‘the world sucks’ blues lately, I would recommend THE LIGHTEST OBJECT IN THE UNIVERSE – the ending made me feel like there was a whole new world waiting to be built from scratch.
Full review: https://inkandplasma.wordpress.com/2020/06/22/crossing-in-time-by-d-l-orton-review/
This book was originally sent to me as part of a blog tour but I chose to drop out for reasons that are going to become clear. Unfortunately this one... did not work for me. This is probably going to be semi-spoilery because I want to explain the things I didn't like so read with caution if you don't want to be spoiled.
Rating: 2 stars - it got an extra star for good prose.
Trigger warnings: death, miscarriage, attempted rape, abortion, one occurrence of bi-erasure
What did I think?
I want to start by saying that my problems with this book probably wouldn't be so severe if the book was marketed differently. I also want people to read other reviews before they take my word for it, because this has hundreds of positive reviews on Goodreads. However, none of those reviews seemed to cover my major problems with it.
Edited note: Regarding this comment, the author has since said that she will be editing the line I'm about to mention in the manuscript - which I appreciate. Future versions hopefully will not include this and I'm very pleased about this response. Thank you to the author for responding quickly to that concern.
The first thing is only a one line off-the-cuff comment, but put me in a off about 20% in. There's a gay character, interested in another character, and when he finds out that the guy he's interested in was once married to a woman his internal narration says:
'So he's not gay. Damn. Then again, maybe he's like you and got married by mistake.'
The bi-erasure here is really blatant and while I don't feel like it was done intentionally it's really, really uncomfortable to read as someone who is bisexual. The implication that he's either gay, and married a woman as a mistake, or straight is so frustrating. It also wasn't prudent to the plot itself so felt totally unnecessary. If this line had been included, Picasso ended up being bi and this attitude was challenged then I'd have been fine with it. But instead we move on, he's straight and everything's ignored. So this line was totally unnecessary. If it was just 'So he's probably not gay. Damn'. I would have been fine with it, but this just rubbed me up the wrong way. You could take this line out of the book entirely and it'd make absolutely no difference to the story, and wouldn't erase bisexuality.
The other thing that I really struggled with was that I felt the summary on Goodreads and Amazon was completely misleading. The summary states:
When offered a one-way trip to the past, Isabel sacrifices everything for a chance to change the rapidly deteriorating present--and see her murdered lover one last time. When she arrives twenty years in the past, buck naked and mortally wounded, she has 24 hours to convince a stunned but enraptured nineteen-year-old to change their future. Definitely easier said than done, as success means losing him to a brainy, smart-mouthed bombshell (her younger self), and that's a heart breaker, save the world or not.
Isabel doesn't travel to the past until 63% into the book. Page 337 of 412. Everything after that point fits what I expected. But the first 337 pages? Isabel goes through hell. She meets a guy who broke her heart 15 years ago and they go to dinner, she nearly dies and he proposes immediately. Which is? romantic? (I didn't think so, but hey.) The world is falling apart, so they go to a cabin and that's pretty cool. They decide not to try for a baby, because the world is falling apart, but she falls pregnant anyway. Isabel and Diego are ecstatic, and then she has a pretty sudden and on-page miscarriage. At this point I had to put the book down and walk away for ten minutes. I've been told to expect a ""Funny, Romantic & Harrowing" (Publishers Weekly Starred Review) dystopian love story and prepare to encounter a finicky time machine, a mysterious seashell, and a very clever dog" (from Goodreads) and so far I've had a post-apocalyptic traumatic shit-show. Sure, I was told it was a 'laugh out loud tragedy' but so far there have been no laughs and so much tragedy it doesn't feel like it's balanced at all. There's a two second period where it tries to convince the reader the miscarriage might be plot relevant, then that's abandoned. I felt genuinely miserable. The only humour so far has come from over-used dad jokes and puns being forced into the text. Like, one of the characters main traits seems to be 'uses stupid dad jokes'. I didn't laugh, I mostly just cringed. Putting well-known internet jokes doesn't a funny book make. And the romance was so inexplicable and sudden that I didn't feel like it was that romantic. More misery for Isabel as her husband goes missing, she recovers from an injury, a guy attempts to rape her twice (ugh, more trauma that didn't serve any plot or character development purpose AT ALL) and then eventually, 337 pages in, Isabel goes back in time.
Does the joy start now? Do we have the moment where she convinces a young Diego to change the world, then lose him to her younger self? No. We get a lot of Isabel lecturing Diego on how he should change all of his instincts and every part of his personality so that young-Isabel will find him easier to date. She says she has reasons, and these are hinted at in her own first person POV chapters but no explanation is given. There's insta-love between Isabel and young-Diego but I couldn't for the life of me work out what their bond was supposed to be. The entire last section of this book is Isabel highlighting all the reasons they don't work as a couple, demanding he change and not telling him why. My god. I wanted them to break up and I knew that the world would end if they did. They felt totally incompatible.
And then the book just? Ended? I know that there's more in this series (four I think?!) but despite this book being 400 pages long, it felt like half a book. If the first 63% was trimmed WAY back (losing some of the we-love-to-traumatise-women tropes) then we could have had more time for a resolution, I guess, but instead it felt like the book ended and the rest of the plot is hidden in book two. I won't be picking it up. There was too much left unexplained and without any chemistry whatsoever between the characters, I can't find the energy for it. I wanted time-travel hijinks and competition with her past self, not... this. I finished this book sad and tired, and I feel like the summary is totally misrepresentative of the book itself. But then, it has well over 200 5 star reviews on Goodreads so I guess I'm in the minority? Honestly, I feel like I read a different book to everyone else.
Despite these complaints, I did finish the whole book and that's because the prose itself was great and DL Orton is clearly a good writer on a technical level. I'll be the first one to put my hands up and say that this book obviously works for a lot of people and while I did want to share my opinions on it, Goodreads has a huge selection of positive reviews and there has just been a blog tour from Write Reads with a huge selection of bloggers giving their opinions worth checking out before you take my word on it.
This book was originally sent to me as part of a blog tour but I chose to drop out for reasons that are going to become clear. Unfortunately this one... did not work for me. This is probably going to be semi-spoilery because I want to explain the things I didn't like so read with caution if you don't want to be spoiled.
Rating: 2 stars - it got an extra star for good prose.
Trigger warnings: death, miscarriage, attempted rape, abortion, one occurrence of bi-erasure
What did I think?
I want to start by saying that my problems with this book probably wouldn't be so severe if the book was marketed differently. I also want people to read other reviews before they take my word for it, because this has hundreds of positive reviews on Goodreads. However, none of those reviews seemed to cover my major problems with it.
Edited note: Regarding this comment, the author has since said that she will be editing the line I'm about to mention in the manuscript - which I appreciate. Future versions hopefully will not include this and I'm very pleased about this response. Thank you to the author for responding quickly to that concern.
The first thing is only a one line off-the-cuff comment, but put me in a off about 20% in. There's a gay character, interested in another character, and when he finds out that the guy he's interested in was once married to a woman his internal narration says:
'So he's not gay. Damn. Then again, maybe he's like you and got married by mistake.'
The bi-erasure here is really blatant and while I don't feel like it was done intentionally it's really, really uncomfortable to read as someone who is bisexual. The implication that he's either gay, and married a woman as a mistake, or straight is so frustrating. It also wasn't prudent to the plot itself so felt totally unnecessary. If this line had been included, Picasso ended up being bi and this attitude was challenged then I'd have been fine with it. But instead we move on, he's straight and everything's ignored. So this line was totally unnecessary. If it was just 'So he's probably not gay. Damn'. I would have been fine with it, but this just rubbed me up the wrong way. You could take this line out of the book entirely and it'd make absolutely no difference to the story, and wouldn't erase bisexuality.
The other thing that I really struggled with was that I felt the summary on Goodreads and Amazon was completely misleading. The summary states:
When offered a one-way trip to the past, Isabel sacrifices everything for a chance to change the rapidly deteriorating present--and see her murdered lover one last time. When she arrives twenty years in the past, buck naked and mortally wounded, she has 24 hours to convince a stunned but enraptured nineteen-year-old to change their future. Definitely easier said than done, as success means losing him to a brainy, smart-mouthed bombshell (her younger self), and that's a heart breaker, save the world or not.
Isabel doesn't travel to the past until 63% into the book. Page 337 of 412. Everything after that point fits what I expected. But the first 337 pages? Isabel goes through hell. She meets a guy who broke her heart 15 years ago and they go to dinner, she nearly dies and he proposes immediately. Which is? romantic? (I didn't think so, but hey.) The world is falling apart, so they go to a cabin and that's pretty cool. They decide not to try for a baby, because the world is falling apart, but she falls pregnant anyway. Isabel and Diego are ecstatic, and then she has a pretty sudden and on-page miscarriage. At this point I had to put the book down and walk away for ten minutes. I've been told to expect a ""Funny, Romantic & Harrowing" (Publishers Weekly Starred Review) dystopian love story and prepare to encounter a finicky time machine, a mysterious seashell, and a very clever dog" (from Goodreads) and so far I've had a post-apocalyptic traumatic shit-show. Sure, I was told it was a 'laugh out loud tragedy' but so far there have been no laughs and so much tragedy it doesn't feel like it's balanced at all. There's a two second period where it tries to convince the reader the miscarriage might be plot relevant, then that's abandoned. I felt genuinely miserable. The only humour so far has come from over-used dad jokes and puns being forced into the text. Like, one of the characters main traits seems to be 'uses stupid dad jokes'. I didn't laugh, I mostly just cringed. Putting well-known internet jokes doesn't a funny book make. And the romance was so inexplicable and sudden that I didn't feel like it was that romantic. More misery for Isabel as her husband goes missing, she recovers from an injury, a guy attempts to rape her twice (ugh, more trauma that didn't serve any plot or character development purpose AT ALL) and then eventually, 337 pages in, Isabel goes back in time.
Does the joy start now? Do we have the moment where she convinces a young Diego to change the world, then lose him to her younger self? No. We get a lot of Isabel lecturing Diego on how he should change all of his instincts and every part of his personality so that young-Isabel will find him easier to date. She says she has reasons, and these are hinted at in her own first person POV chapters but no explanation is given. There's insta-love between Isabel and young-Diego but I couldn't for the life of me work out what their bond was supposed to be. The entire last section of this book is Isabel highlighting all the reasons they don't work as a couple, demanding he change and not telling him why. My god. I wanted them to break up and I knew that the world would end if they did. They felt totally incompatible.
And then the book just? Ended? I know that there's more in this series (four I think?!) but despite this book being 400 pages long, it felt like half a book. If the first 63% was trimmed WAY back (losing some of the we-love-to-traumatise-women tropes) then we could have had more time for a resolution, I guess, but instead it felt like the book ended and the rest of the plot is hidden in book two. I won't be picking it up. There was too much left unexplained and without any chemistry whatsoever between the characters, I can't find the energy for it. I wanted time-travel hijinks and competition with her past self, not... this. I finished this book sad and tired, and I feel like the summary is totally misrepresentative of the book itself. But then, it has well over 200 5 star reviews on Goodreads so I guess I'm in the minority? Honestly, I feel like I read a different book to everyone else.
Despite these complaints, I did finish the whole book and that's because the prose itself was great and DL Orton is clearly a good writer on a technical level. I'll be the first one to put my hands up and say that this book obviously works for a lot of people and while I did want to share my opinions on it, Goodreads has a huge selection of positive reviews and there has just been a blog tour from Write Reads with a huge selection of bloggers giving their opinions worth checking out before you take my word on it.
Full review: https://inkandplasma.wordpress.com/2020/06/25/mexican-gothic-by-silvia-moreno-garcia-review/
Trigger warnings:
This book totally lived up to the hype. And it certainly lived up to the gothic part of its name. One of the things I adored about Gods of Jade and Shadow was the atmosphere that Moreno-Garcia created and Mexican Gothic was even better when it came to building that atmosphere up until it was so thick that I could taste it. It’s a little bit slower paced than the books I usually read, but so good that I didn’t even mind it like I usually would. The slower pace lets the entire book become threaded with tension and dread. As I was reading I felt the whole time that everything was about to get worse and worse. And I had absolutely no idea how it was going to happen. Even having read the trigger warnings, I was still completely blind-sided by the twists this book took. I loved how unpredictable the plot was, and it really added to the gothic horror. I felt like in High Place anything was possible, and that made me really feel for Noemí. If I was freaked out reading about it, she must have been terrified living in it.
The house feels like a character all of its own, vivid and ever-present, and its presence overshadows every scene. Even when Noemí isn’t in the house itself, it feels like it’s always there. There’s an amazing sense of watchfulness that makes it feel like the walls themselves are watching and listening to Noemí as she tries to find a way to save her cousin, and there’s nothing quite so terrifying as feeling like there’s nowhere she can go to be safe. Amazing settings are exactly what I expect from Silvia Moreno-Garcia, who writes some of the best scenery I’ve ever read. The mining aspects of the novel seem to me to be lovingly researched, and it felt like I was looking in on a real snippet of history. The ‘English-ness’ of High Place compared to the incredible Mexican landscapes and the village that Noemí visits was almost jarring, and I loved the way that both were created. Honestly, the more of Moreno-Garcia’s work I read, the more desperate I am to finally make good on our travel plans to visit Mexico one day.
The story is definitely more plot driven than character driven, but that doesn’t mean the characters weren’t up to Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s usual amazing standard. They were interesting and distinct and I loved the way that they were written. One in particular felt so unnerving that I wanted to look over my shoulder to check he wasn’t hovering near me. I adored Noemí in particular, though that’s no surprise. She’s young and flighty and has something to prove – but she’s also persistent and intelligent and for all her flighty nature she’s unerringly loyal to her family. I liked the fact that she was so fiercely independent and young, and I think that the way she was written gave so much debutante personality that I could see her sweeping around parties. There’s a little romance in this book, kind of, but it’s not even remotely the focus and I’m glad of that. There’s so much going on in the house that overrides Noemí’s moments of attraction, because the threat and dread is so much more important. There’s nothing that annoys me more in a book than characters in grave danger mooning over love instead of focusing on the imminent death, but Noemí is too smart for that.
Trigger warnings:
Spoiler
graphic violence, gore and body horror, incest, family and child deaths, murder, sexism, racism, sexual harassment.This book totally lived up to the hype. And it certainly lived up to the gothic part of its name. One of the things I adored about Gods of Jade and Shadow was the atmosphere that Moreno-Garcia created and Mexican Gothic was even better when it came to building that atmosphere up until it was so thick that I could taste it. It’s a little bit slower paced than the books I usually read, but so good that I didn’t even mind it like I usually would. The slower pace lets the entire book become threaded with tension and dread. As I was reading I felt the whole time that everything was about to get worse and worse. And I had absolutely no idea how it was going to happen. Even having read the trigger warnings, I was still completely blind-sided by the twists this book took. I loved how unpredictable the plot was, and it really added to the gothic horror. I felt like in High Place anything was possible, and that made me really feel for Noemí. If I was freaked out reading about it, she must have been terrified living in it.
The house feels like a character all of its own, vivid and ever-present, and its presence overshadows every scene. Even when Noemí isn’t in the house itself, it feels like it’s always there. There’s an amazing sense of watchfulness that makes it feel like the walls themselves are watching and listening to Noemí as she tries to find a way to save her cousin, and there’s nothing quite so terrifying as feeling like there’s nowhere she can go to be safe. Amazing settings are exactly what I expect from Silvia Moreno-Garcia, who writes some of the best scenery I’ve ever read. The mining aspects of the novel seem to me to be lovingly researched, and it felt like I was looking in on a real snippet of history. The ‘English-ness’ of High Place compared to the incredible Mexican landscapes and the village that Noemí visits was almost jarring, and I loved the way that both were created. Honestly, the more of Moreno-Garcia’s work I read, the more desperate I am to finally make good on our travel plans to visit Mexico one day.
The story is definitely more plot driven than character driven, but that doesn’t mean the characters weren’t up to Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s usual amazing standard. They were interesting and distinct and I loved the way that they were written. One in particular felt so unnerving that I wanted to look over my shoulder to check he wasn’t hovering near me. I adored Noemí in particular, though that’s no surprise. She’s young and flighty and has something to prove – but she’s also persistent and intelligent and for all her flighty nature she’s unerringly loyal to her family. I liked the fact that she was so fiercely independent and young, and I think that the way she was written gave so much debutante personality that I could see her sweeping around parties. There’s a little romance in this book, kind of, but it’s not even remotely the focus and I’m glad of that. There’s so much going on in the house that overrides Noemí’s moments of attraction, because the threat and dread is so much more important. There’s nothing that annoys me more in a book than characters in grave danger mooning over love instead of focusing on the imminent death, but Noemí is too smart for that.
Full review: https://inkandplasma.wordpress.com/2020/07/06/school-for-nobodies-by-susie-bower-review/
Thanks to Pushkin Press for the review copy of this book, it has not affected my honest review.
I loved the cover of this one from the first glance and I was so curious about the plot from the description. The idea that her whole life is shadowed in secrets was fascinating to me and I liked the way that it was played out during the book. The plot isn’t so complex as to be dense, but is definitely interesting enough to keep a reader guessing. I enjoyed piecing together the clues (and coming to some conclusions faster than Flynn was very very stressful) and I think that middle-grade aged readers will adore unravelling the mysteries of the School for Nobodies and Flynn’s past. There were some facets of the plot that I didn’t put together until the last minute, and while I found the ending to be a little bit suddenly concluded, I think that’s my adult brain talking and children would like the way it’s neatly wrapped up.
The characters were the real treat in this book. There are five children at the School for Nobodies, each having their name taken from them on their first day at the school. Instead, Flynn refers to them by the name she’s given them: Custard, Rule Boy, Saddo and Feral. Throughout the book they slowly become friends despite their differences, and I found the book’s messages about friendship really sweet and heart-warming. Their circus gives them something to work on together, and they focus on finding each other’s strengths so that everyone can be involved in the performance – a satisfying change from Flynn’s early desires to be the only one in the show. I won’t spoil anything with details, but I also loved the way the book challenged the idea of ‘nobodies’ and uplifted individuality.
The only thing I’d like to have seen challenged a bit more was the idea of Flynn’s facial burn as ‘ugly’. She called it ugly all the way through the book and another child commented on it at one point – all of which I could live with if the idea was robustly challenged. Instead, as far as I can tell, Flynn was still believing the same thing at the end of the book, which I didn’t love. I hate to think of young readers who could relate to Flynn (whether from burns or birthmarks) thinking that they’re ugly without challenge. However I do concede that I don’t relate to Flynn in that way so the representation isn’t mine to comment on.
Overall this is a gorgeous children’s book and a must read for anyone looking for a little circus magic and a story about finding family where you are, with mystery aspects and a little danger thrown in to keep things interesting!
Thanks to Pushkin Press for the review copy of this book, it has not affected my honest review.
I loved the cover of this one from the first glance and I was so curious about the plot from the description. The idea that her whole life is shadowed in secrets was fascinating to me and I liked the way that it was played out during the book. The plot isn’t so complex as to be dense, but is definitely interesting enough to keep a reader guessing. I enjoyed piecing together the clues (and coming to some conclusions faster than Flynn was very very stressful) and I think that middle-grade aged readers will adore unravelling the mysteries of the School for Nobodies and Flynn’s past. There were some facets of the plot that I didn’t put together until the last minute, and while I found the ending to be a little bit suddenly concluded, I think that’s my adult brain talking and children would like the way it’s neatly wrapped up.
The characters were the real treat in this book. There are five children at the School for Nobodies, each having their name taken from them on their first day at the school. Instead, Flynn refers to them by the name she’s given them: Custard, Rule Boy, Saddo and Feral. Throughout the book they slowly become friends despite their differences, and I found the book’s messages about friendship really sweet and heart-warming. Their circus gives them something to work on together, and they focus on finding each other’s strengths so that everyone can be involved in the performance – a satisfying change from Flynn’s early desires to be the only one in the show. I won’t spoil anything with details, but I also loved the way the book challenged the idea of ‘nobodies’ and uplifted individuality.
The only thing I’d like to have seen challenged a bit more was the idea of Flynn’s facial burn as ‘ugly’. She called it ugly all the way through the book and another child commented on it at one point – all of which I could live with if the idea was robustly challenged. Instead, as far as I can tell, Flynn was still believing the same thing at the end of the book, which I didn’t love. I hate to think of young readers who could relate to Flynn (whether from burns or birthmarks) thinking that they’re ugly without challenge. However I do concede that I don’t relate to Flynn in that way so the representation isn’t mine to comment on.
Overall this is a gorgeous children’s book and a must read for anyone looking for a little circus magic and a story about finding family where you are, with mystery aspects and a little danger thrown in to keep things interesting!
3.5 stars
I read Odd Spirits on a friend's recommendation and I really loved it. The novella doesn't take too long to read, but tells a beautiful story in its few pages. I love to read stories of established relationships and the idea of a chaotic witch and an orderly magician was too entertaining to scroll past. Odd Spirits to me felt like a beautiful tale about communication and compromise in relationships with the added bonus of a malicious spirit to spice things up. Highly recommended for reading on a quiet evening and restoring your faith in lasting love.
I read Odd Spirits on a friend's recommendation and I really loved it. The novella doesn't take too long to read, but tells a beautiful story in its few pages. I love to read stories of established relationships and the idea of a chaotic witch and an orderly magician was too entertaining to scroll past. Odd Spirits to me felt like a beautiful tale about communication and compromise in relationships with the added bonus of a malicious spirit to spice things up. Highly recommended for reading on a quiet evening and restoring your faith in lasting love.
I picked this up as a whim on bogohp because I was drawn in by the pretty cover and the mention of 'shadow wolves' on the back cover. Nevertell ended up being nothing like I expected, but better than I'd hoped. Set in Soviet Russia, Lina was born and raised in a prison camp until she was drawn into an escape attempt. From there, she ends up on a wild chase through magical worlds to save her friends and family. Without delving into spoiler territory, Nevertell is a beautiful story about family real and found, and a surprisingly complex and developed concept of good, bad and morally grey. It was really well portrayed to be suitable for a child audience without losing the nuance of the message. An interesting and magical read with a hopeful twist.