Well that was just a super satisfying conclusion. I always get nervous going into last books, and sometimes put them off for a silly-long time, because I just worry that the ending will be bad and that’ll ruin the whole rest of the series for me. (Does anyone else do that...maybe…just me? Haha.) In any case, there was none of that here. It was the perfect sort of wrap it all up more or less in a neat package ending that I was hoping for the story…since this wasn’t necessarily a groundbreakingly original storyline to date, I was really hoping that the author wouldn’t try to do anything like that to end it. But no – we got the end of the bad guys and the “restart” for the future that I wanted as a reader, and that the story was building to. I mean, of course, there were some deaths and twists that hurt to read, which kept things interesting and not too neat, but nothing that prevented me from letting out a nice big satisfied sigh when I turned the last page.

I definitely was happy with how Daemon and Katy’s story ended (and I can’t lie, I enjoyed the possible excess of mushiness between them in this book just as much as I did in the last one)…and the conclusions for our primary supporting characters, like Dawson and Beth, Archer, Dee, Luc were all equally satisfying. And seeing how Deadalus (and Nancy herself), along with the invading Luxen, are finished…it’s what I wanted there too (more or less). There are some realistically open endings that don’t get too perfectly tied as well, particularly regarding the Arum, and that was nice too. Overall, the couple new characters we get to meet and the final interactions with our longtime protagonists that we’ve gotten close to over the 5 books are all exactly what I wanted.

I needed something a little drama-filled paranormal romance and this series is perfectly that. Like I said, nothing groundbreaking, but there is definitely a reason these story lines become tropes (there will likely never come a day when a really attractive, protective, but ultimately totally smitten that he’ll pretty much allow anything she asks for, love interest will not get me excited). It’s not always what I’m looking for in a book, but when it is, nothing else hits the spot.

“The fact is, we are missing so many threads in our story that the tapestry of Irish life cannot but fall apart.”

“I am trying to be faithful to what is in my head. I hope it is trying to be as faithful to me.”

I had never heard of this book, or author before last month. My long-distance book club decided to read something by an Irish author for our March book, in our own little celebration of St. Patrick’s Day, and this was the winner. I had no idea what to expect going in, either from the writing or the story, but this is why I like to be part of book clubs. They push me outside of my reading “comfort zone,” introducing me to books and authors I would never have tried otherwise.

This book, mostly, tells the story of Roseanne McNulty. When we meet her, she is somewhere around 100 years old, living in a rundown psychiatric hospital/home. She knows that she is probably not long for this world, and has no living family or friends, so she decides to record the story of her life as she remembers it. At the same time, the lead physician at the hospital, Dr. Grene, learns that the building is to be torn down in favor of a newer, but smaller, facility and he is tasked with deciding which current residents truly need beds at the new spot and which can be “released.” To that end, he starts to ask Roseanne about herself, to truly understand why she was committed in the first place, but he makes very little inroad and decides to do some investigating on his own. So, at the same time that we are hearing Roseanne’s story from her own memory, we are hearing it from the doctor as he pieces it together from old documents and recordings. As things unfold, secrets start to come to air that have long been buried.

Looking at the cover of this novel, it gives off the vibe of an older book, a classic type novel that one would read in high school English. And to be quite honest, the writing matches. It has that intelligent, old-timey cadence that is common in classics. A sort of archaic type of writing that requires finesse and talent (and impressive vocabulary) from the author, but does not as much simulate the way words are used and spoken in day to day reality. As a result, it was a little hard for me to get into it at first and I struggled to find an interest in reading through the words themselves until the story started to take off (probably a quarter to a third of the way in). Once that started coming together though, and we actually get into the meat of Roseanne’s life, the story unfolds in a very understated, but sweeping way. The story telling method of back and forth perspectives, those of Roseanne and Dr. Grene, are used effectively here. In fact, it was truly a skilled portrayal of the role of perspective in history and story-telling and the possibility of knowing the truth (an understanding of the general facts of what happened) without actually knowing the truth (the how and impact of what happened). The focus here on the importance of the personal voice in telling one’s own story, and also the fallacy of relying purely on one’s memory of something, is priceless.

The main beauty of this novel is that it contains a really impressive recent history of Ireland, politically and culturally, seamlessly woven into this story. It’s as if Roseanne’s story is simply a vehicle with which the author personalized Ireland’s traumatic and violent past. Her story parallels and suffers from it in equal measure, in a way that is subtle and strong-handed at the same time. I have to say that, since it was written in her own voice, from her own memories, there were a number of historical references that I either had to look up or was, thankfully, a little aware of since I just recently read The Heart’s Invisible Furies, which has some similar recent history themes. But in any case, if that kind of thing bothers you, references to historical persons/events/issues that are not completely explained, go into this book knowing to expect that here. It’s something that could throw you off, but the book is so illuminating, if you can get past it, that I don’t want it to throw anyone off unintentionally. Regardless, the insight we get of the reality of living in Ireland during the past 100 or so years, many of which the country spent in upheaval of one kind or another, and particularly how that played out for and was experienced by women (generally heart wrenching, if I’m going to be honest), is well developed and educational.

Last, with the final reveal at the end, I was initially disappointed, thinking it was too “perfect” of a situation and it didn’t seem real, which, considering the reality of the novel (discussed more in depth below) was frustrating. However, while I thought that was the end of it, there is a little more still coming, one final detail before the story ends. And with that last bit of information that comes out, concerning the background machinations – if you will, though that might be too strong a term – of one of the overlooked characters, my perspective totally changed. It becomes significantly more believable and, dare I say, poetic. And not only that, it positively melted my heart.

Although this won’t make my list of favorite novels of the year, and even as far as Ireland’s recent history goes there are others I’d recommend first (though really only because I have a particular soft spot for the one I mentioned earlier, The Heart’s Invisible Furies), this was a very well executed story and introduction to Irish history. In addition, allowing the story to be told by a woman, who tended to be at the tough end of most things during this time period, gives voice to a very non-voiced population. And that is very much worth something. Overall, I’m glad to have spent the time reading this.

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

This book was already on my 2018 TBR list (you can see it on my Back the Backlist Challenge list) when my long-distance book club decided, for a number of reasons, that we wanted to focus on making our February book an #ownvoices choice. This was the book I suggested and, after voting, it was the winner! I don’t have a lot more to say about why I wanted to read this, but boy do I have a lot to say about the book itself. And I could write far days and still not say it all, so hopefully I at least manage to hit all the big things…

First, I cannot believe that this is a debut novel. It was so full of body and life, intricately and deeply developed, that I was truly blown away and sucked in (all at the same time!) from the very first page. There’s just such a visceral quality to the writing. It’s almost hard to describe because it’s incredibly evocative without being overstated or flowery, which is impressive considering the harshness (harrowing-ness?) of many of the things Solomon is describing. The world-building is absolutely grand - imaginative on one hand, but uncomfortably familiar on the other, it packs a punch that really hits home. It’s foreign in the sense that yes, it is in space – there are societal hierarchies and language/culture individualities that we have never heard of before and we are dropped right in the middle of with no introduction or preamble. We, as readers, have to spend a good stretch of time playing catch up and figuring things out (which, incidentally, is very apropos of the story itself). Yet at the same time, the specifics of these foreign “rules” are based entirely on some of the same inequalities that we see in our normal, present day, non-sci-fi, earth lives. It’s more than sci-fi, more than dystopia, more than social commentary…it’s just more. So I made up a new genre for this book: alternate futuristic history. Read it and you’ll see what I mean.

Beyond the writing, the next most remarkable thing was definitely the representation. This author has, in a way that does not ever once seem forced, included a spectacular variety of characters – representing different races, classes, gender identities, sexualities, developmental abilities (autism spectrum, specifically) and mental health struggles. They all come across completely genuine, as individuals, in their interpersonal relationships, and within the larger context of the story. It’s striking, in the best way. And with that, the social commentary on the current situation in the United States, from race/class issues, lack of acceptance for any kinds of “difference,” the over-importance of religion in governmental decisions, the ineptitude of many leaders, and the top down racism/classism (institutional and systemic) is extensive, insightful, skillfully handled, and so important. Everything is symbolic of so much.

The story itself was significant more for its message than its overall development. I didn’t think the general story arc was particularly original or memorable. For the sci-fi/dystopia genre, it was pretty par for the course. But the delivery of the story, and the social message it carries, was done in a way that overshadows the commonality of the plotline and will keep this story current and present for me. And as a little icing on that cake, the ending was phenomenal. The “on ship” ending, for lack of a better description, was so quick, the break coming in the blink of an eye, and was over almost as fast. It was unforgiving and ruthless and then it was over, and in that sense, it felt so real. As for the “off ship” ending, it too was fast and similarly real. I could see an argument that the transition from the “on” to the “off” ship endings was slightly rushed, but I think it fit. And the overall feel of the ending: it’s the very definition of a new beginning. And it was the most perfectly executed satisfying cliffhanger of hope that I’ve ever read.

I want to mention, for full transparency, a few small things that were not quite as polished as the rest of the book. The biggest thing is that I think the descriptions of the physical space-ship, like it’s layout, and some of the more complicated science/math sections, could have used some better articulation. Not necessarily longer sections about them, but clearer ones. I generally have a pretty good suspension of disbelief (for the greater good of the story) and general moved past these parts without too much issue, but I do think there were some moments where things don’t seem to fully line up or make sense. So, if that tends to throw you off while reading, be aware of it coming into this novel. Also, there were a few times that the POV of the narrator changed, but it didn’t seem like there was actually necessary. It wasn’t bad, and I guess I could see why those parts might be better from a different POV, but it just struck me as a little off/weird and probably could have been “told” fine without that. They were, at the least, fascinating insights into the minds/thought processes of some of the other characters. Last, there were some small holes in the plot points for me (and they were small, so perhaps I skimmed over the connections)…but things like at the beginning they didn’t know what a “gun” was called and by the end they did, but I don’t remember them ever learning it and what exactly was the reason Seamus’ role even needed to be in the story. Silly things, nitpicky, but still…

However, even with those few things, there is so much good that over-shines it. I hope I managed to convey that. And when I come back and read this a few days from now, I hope it stills seems like I touched on everything that I wanted to (there was just so much to say!). Straight up, this debut is absolutely something special and I entirely recommend it.

There are so many quotes that I want to share…here are some of them:

“Materials are meaningless without knowledge…”

“I feel like I am chasing a figment of someone else’s imagination.”

“It comes as no particular surprise that this was the section of the ship to malfunction so catastrphcally; it was the only section of the ship managed by the Sovereignty. Thank Heavens for their misplaced belief that only the most holy should be in charge of the direction of Matilda’s journey, as that belief led to a good many of them dying.” (This is such a pleasantly cutting sentiment that definitely hits home with my own opinions of the current leadership in our country…and, perhaps, my hopes for a similarly dramatic crash and burn scenario for them...maybe not ending in death, but at least in massive loss of power.)

“They should be afraid. They would be split in two. Aster was obsessed with bifurcation. Wholes were foreign to her. Halves made more sense. A split nucleus could end Matilda’s tiny universe. She wanted to be the knife. She wanted to be knived.”

“Nothing is more sad than a person who believes in something that’s so clearly not true.”

“I run my fingers along the spines of the books I can reach. I do it to affirm them. To let them know I’m a lover of stories…”

“What was a person’s self but carefully articulated mimicry?”

“Pretty was a strange thing to concern oneself over. Pretty was subjective and fallacious. Pretty couldn’t be replicated in a lab.”

“Sometimes it’s like I can’t help it, then I think, no, I could help it, I could hold it back, like a sneeze. But it feels so much more satisfying to say the cruelest thing, to hurt, to harm. I wish I was better, but I’m not, and so there’s nothing to do but love who I am.”

“…and though his words were impossibly romantic, they heartened Aster.”

“She felt sentimental. She felt superstitious. She felt like she could cry and catch her tears in a magic vial…”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

“But in the end, love makes her stay.”

I had never heard of this book before seeing it on NetGalley, but there was something about the cover design and title that really stuck out to me. I really don’t know what it was exactly. And the blurb sounded intriguing enough that I decided to go for it. And I am very, very glad I did.

This is the story, obviously, of Venus Black. When we meet her, she’s a straight laced young adult of 13, who gets good grades and is a wonderful older sister to her brother, Leo, who falls somewhere on the Autism spectrum. However, things absolutely fall to pieces after one horrible evening, when Venus commits a crime (a big one). Right after her arrest and right before finding out her 5 years juvenile detention sentence, Leo disappears without a trace. Years later, after Venus’ release, she decides to start over clean and new – planning to create a new identity, move to another state, and leave her mother and the memories that one tragic night and her lost brother behind. However, as she meets new people, including a friendly coworker, a possible romantic prospect and a young girl who reminds her of her own younger self, Venus starts to realize that perhaps a new future isn’t as easy as it sounds. Perhaps she will have the face the past, confront her own anger and guilt, and make some amends before she is able to have that fresh start she’s looking for.

This book is exactly what that blurb says it is. But it was also a lot more than I was expecting and it really got its hooks into me. Venus was such a compelling character. The parts narrated by her, both at 13 and at 19, were compelling and perfectly crafted to her age. She is prickly and defensive and angry and scared and so much more. And it comes through so clearly in her actions and her dialogue, exactly in the frustrating but realistic ways that it would for any lost girl at those ages. Her growth throughout the book is realistic as well – full of repressed feeling and memories, naïve reactions, fearful and spontaneous decisions, but with just enough insight into her thoughts that you can see her efforts to overcome these more difficult parts of her personality and give new methods a chance. It’s slow growth, but it’s there…and that’s real.

The other narrators for the story include Leo himself, Venus’ mother, and Tinker, Tessa and Tony, who play a large role in Leo’s life post-disappearance (I know that’s vague, I’m attempting to avoid spoilers). First, I want to make a blanket statement – with that many voices telling the same story, you’d think some character development details might get lost or under-done. That is not the case here. Each of these voices, their role in the story and the decisions they make are full, three dimensional and very believable and understandable…to the extent that, even when you cringe at a character’s decision or thought process, you can absolutely see where they are coming from. And for all but one (I won’t say who, but I’m guessing it’ll be obvious for all of you as you read), you can sympathize and understand that they are doing what they felt was best under the circumstances. It’s actually, at a few points, so heartbreaking as a reader. Because you cannot see how things can end happily for everyone, but you really want it to. I was super impressed by the author’s abilities on this front. Relatedly, I really enjoyed a few relationship developments in particular, including Tessa and Leo, Venus and Piper, and Venus and her mother. They were just really nicely crafted and I enjoyed watching them develop.

The one perspective (other than Venus’) I want to specifically call out is Leo’s. I have read a few books written from the perspective of (or about) Autism-spectrum characters. And I cannot truly speak to how any of them do, because I am not in that situation myself, nor I am close to anyone that is that I could ask or compare to. But from my limited background knowledge, I have to say that I was very impressed with Leo’s voice. It felt deep, nuanced and illuminating. And it addressed some issues/topics that are not normally covered, either in books or in life, like explaining the meanings of many different interactions, from little things like the “please”/”thank you” back and forth all the way to larger things like feelings of attraction (sexual and emotional). If any readers have recommendations for books that do this more successfully, or even better, are own voices, please tell me. But it seemed, to me at least, this was well done here.

As far as the plot itself, it’s a simple and straightforward sort of story, pretty much all summed up in the book blurb. But it is the perfect storyline vehicle for a novel that is built around character growth in the way we see it here. And there is, as the book progresses, the growing build towards the denouement we know if coming: what was it that pushed Venus to commit her crime? And how will the circumstances around Leo’s disappearance and future unfold? The increase in tense-ness as the story moves forward pulls us in dynamically but still leaves the focus on the characters.

The one great issue I took with this novel was, unfortunately, the cleanliness of the ending. I mean, I won’t lie, I definitely wanted that ending. I even mentioned that earlier – I wanted it to be, more or less, positive for everyone. But I am just not sure it was that truthful of an ending. And considering the reality in the character growth to that point, the changes in their relationships with each other, and everything else the author did to make sure a “truthful” story was told…it just didn’t completely fit. Maybe I’m wrong and cynical. And since it didn’t necessarily happen all of a sudden, there is definitely a chance that time allowed for enough adjustment/acceptance to make it possible. And there are some special situations, like Leo’s personality, that make this more possible than it might otherwise be. But I just am not sure this ending is likely, considering the way life works.

All in all though, I was really blown away by how good this book was. Venus is such dynamic character, with an incredibly sad, but ultimately hopeful (the future is looking up), story. This is a book about what family is, what support from family looks like, and how possible it is to create and repair some very difficult relationships. It's billed as YA, but I'm not sure I agree - this is a fully fleshed novel, with something important for all age readers. (And yes, I know anyone of any age can read any book, but you know what I mean.) As a reader, there is definitely some dread that piles on while reading, but there is also a lot of anticipation for a more positive ending than start for these characters that become tangible as you read.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher, Dial Press, for sending me an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

This is one of those books that the second it came out, everyone was reading. So when I saw it in a used bookstore while visiting my brother out in Colorado, I couldn’t say no (even though I only had a carry on and there probably was not any room left to smoosh it into…such is the life of a book nerd.) But then the Holidays hit and things got crazy and all of a sudden it was the middle of February and I still hadn’t read it. Well…it took my like 3 weeks to read this, which is crazy slow reading for me, because it was so intense that I really needed breaks. But really, absolutely worth the hype.

This is Turtle’s story. Turtle is ferocious, tough, half-feral. And Turtle is a survivor. At fourteen, she lives alone with her father in Northern CA, spending her time wandering the remote areas and wilderness around their home. She has been isolated, with only her father and grandfather as companions, since the death of her mother before she can remember. Her father cuts an intimidating and inspiring figure: physically impressive and a sort of apostate survivalist philosopher who scorns society and their disregard for the power and importance of nature. But he is something else too; he is unstable, unpredictable. At times, his standing forth on the need for personal strength and survival skills turns violent, very violent, and Turtle is the only one there with him… One day, while out wandering the woods, Turtle meets a couple local boys, around her age, and strikes up the first relationship outside her paternal figures that she’s ever had. She has a chance to see how other people lives, alternative views of society and family, and starts to realize that perhaps what see has grown up with is not the norm, is not sustainable. And she begins to imagine, maybe hope for, something different. She feels trapped, but “knows” that only she can save herself, she cannot tell, cannot rely on anyone else. The breaking point comes when, one day, it is not only her own well-being and life that is threatened and Turtle realizes that saving everyone is up to her, and her alone.

This story is harsh, heartbreaking, stunning, devastating. It’s gutting, in both a literal and figurative sense. Truly, I felt exhausted when I turned the last page and put it down. It’s almost impossible to process the horror – some parts are nigh on impossible to read (hence, all the breaks I took), with an astonishing amount of layered emotional, mental and physical traumas. And while that aspect of the story is truly haunting, this novel is also so much more than that. This is the story of Turtles trauma, yes. But as I said at the beginning, this is Turtle’s story. So much happens to her in these years of her life that she has no control over, has nothing to compare to, struggles to process. And that is a part of her. But it is not all she is. And that, I think, is what garnered Tallent all the praise for this masterpiece. He is able to tell a story of abuse, is able to show it (in great detail) so that the reader can know exactly what Turtle’s life is…there is no denying it. But at the same time, she is her own person, her own mind, her own decisions. She explores the nature that she loves, she finds time to practice what matters to her, she grows and develops independent of her stifling home life, and in the end she is beginning to create a life for herself that she wants, where the decisions are all hers. She knows it will be a long road, but she has the time to make it what she wants. Tallent explores the terror and pain of abuse of women, and the unforgettable, lifelong consequences of that, without letting that “plot device” overtake the truth of who that woman really is, her actual character. It’s expertly written and extraordinarily impressive.

Caveat: I have not personally experienced anything like what Turtle went through, so please take my opinion with that grain of salt. With all the focus recently of own voices in literature, I think it’s absolutely worth pointing out that this is not. And while I believe, felt in the writing, that this was written with respect for women, in condemnation of abuse, and to bring focus to an crucial issue and the actual people behind it, I have limits in my right to say how accurate and truthful it is to that aim.

Regarding the writing itself – it was gorgeous. Tallent’s way with words is precise when necessary and flowery where possible. The descriptions of nature that are prominent throughout the novel, from the woods to the waterfront, from plant to bugs to animals, were lush and enchanting. His love for nature pops out at you from every page. Also, the dialogue is written with amazing finesse. From the pontificating of Turtle’s father to the short, staccato interactions that Turtle has with everyone, to the fantastical and exaggerative passages of Jacob and Brett, it is all so unique and perfectly expressive. And the overall tone is the exact heavy, creepy feeling that this book deserves. From page one, things feel tense, even before you know what’s going on. The dark and ominous cloud that hangs over everything is always there and every time it breaks a little, no matter how bad it is, you always feel there is worse to come. Everything is the perfect combination of bleak and lyrical.

This is such an incredibly intense reading experience, reminding me of some of my favorites, like All the Ugly and Wonderful Things or A Little Life. It’s an undertaking, and you’ll need a nice chick lit or paranormal romance to clear the air with afterwards (or, at least, that’s what I’m planning to read next), but I highly recommend this book.

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

Alright this book sounded like the perfect one for me right from the start, for a number of reasons. Essentially is a feminist fantasy sort of situation – pretty much my two favorite genres rolled into one. So immediately it was on my TBR list. And then it won the Bailey’s Women’s Prize for Fiction, which is an awesome and prestigious award, but what happened then was a lot of people read it that may not otherwise have been interested and the reviews I was seeing got really mixed. But it’s hard to tell whether it was because it’s just one of those polarizing award winning books or if it’s because lots of people who aren’t necessarily into those genres tried it, or some other reason. So I held off for a little while before starting it. However, eventually I just realized I needed to say “screw the reviews” and go for it, because as I’ve mentioned, it sounds right up my alley. In the end, OMG I LOVED IT. And to be honest, maybe if I hadn’t had my expectations tempered a little before starting, I may have felt differently. But who knows, I may not have… I just straight loved this book. Probably my favorite read of 2018 so far.

Basically, this story starts in our world today. Technology, social media, politics, the normal “men are in charge” situations, etc. that we are currently facing. But then something happens, something big. Women, and only women, start to develop a power, a little like an electric current running through their bodies, that can be activated/used at will. As it spreads and it takes times for all women to learn to control it, and as per usual with the unknown, it is greeted with fear. School aged boys and girls are separated for the safety of the boys all the way up to females in political and public worker positions being “tested” and removed from office/positions if they have the power. In many cases, women who have long been suppressed are using it to fight back – governments are overthrown and women are quickly overtaking the positions of physical and sexual power in the world and in relationships that have always belonged to men. With just a flick of their fingers, women can now cause pain and death…and with this exchange of power comes drastic changes. Told from a number of perspectives: Allie (an emerging religious icon with a troubled childhood), Roxy (a daughter of a crime family who is ready for some revenge), Margot (an ambitious female politician), Jocelyn (Margot’s daughter and struggling with her new power), and Tunde (a reporter and our only male narrator), we watch as this story unfolds and the lengths to which each will go to gain power or control or recognition or the feeling of safety that they’ve always longed for.

I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do this book justice in this review. But I will try my best. This is just a phenomenal and mind-blowing social study, a sweeping and all-encompassing thought experiment. I’ve seen comparisons to The Handmaid’s Tale and, while I loved and read that and can see why, I’m not totally sure it’s the same. Just for me, this was more compelling. Maybe it’s just because I read it more recently, but it provides the context and proceeds to spell out for you, how the world would look with an entire gender role reversal. And I mean granted, it’s an imagination based representation, and technically the same concepts and discussion points are brought up with this as with Atwood’s masterpiece, but this one is just more visceral – Atwood’s is a complete dystopian horror of if what we had now was just exaggerated (and at times not even that much, frighteningly…) whereas Alderman completely flips what we have on it’s head and says ‘ok, but what if it was the other way around?’ I could go on for a long time here, but mainly, I feel like they’re more complementary explorations as opposed equivalent ones. Hopefully that makes sense.

But back to my original point, this exploration of gender role reversals makes you think so much. And I loved that! Its points are made with flashing, colorful fireworks that you cannot help but acknowledge and appreciate. It is absolutely extraordinary how many point of views gender roles (both traditional and this new “flipped” version) are considered from: everything from social/norms to political, economic to religious, and in consideration of violence, the media, that history is written by the people in power, and more. I particularly love all the ways that Alderman is able to show the way that ingrained gender roles and, in our world, patriarchy, routinely crush (even when they don’t mean to) the lower gender(s). And it’s not just in the depictions of the roles, but in the flip of the rhetoric as well. And in many cases it’s not just the obvious, like women taking sexual advantage of men, moving into primary power roles as leaders of nations, stealing/taking credit for the work men have done, and expressing their new power through instilling fear in men and creating rigid rules for them to follow that reduce their freedoms dramatically, etc. But it’s the small things too, like the intelligent female news anchor who gets to report on the “important” topics and the sidekick, young, attractive male co-anchor that covers the fluff topics. Those small things that you maybe wouldn’t pick out/recognize unless you’d had to live them, in the background, for years… However at the same time, Alderman does credit to herself by not portraying everything as a single sided issue. The idea that power comes with its own challenges and responsibilities, that are easy to take advantage of is central here. There are definitely women to take everything they can get at the expense of men around them and still want and work for more. There are the crooked female politicians and overzealous, crazed female country leaders. There are religious fanatics following a “cult” female religious leader. And there are, of course, the men that are living repressed and in fear, as many women do today. All of these issues are the similar to those we face now, the very same, in some cases, regardless of which gender has control. It’s layered and thorough and fascinating and just…wow.

Along with all that, I think some interesting side-plots are explored that parallel certain marginalized or reactionary groups of today as well. Women that do not ever get the power, or that never learn to consistently control it, the few men who are born with a genetic anomaly and do get the power, and “gender traitors” or women who disagree with the way their powers are being used to subjugate others and vice versa in men – these groups do as good of a job as possible recognizing and representing the modern fight for equal rights for all gender and sexuality identities (and related opinions). I mean, it’s not perfect, but considering this is one book and is therefore super limited in comparison to the many levels of challenges we face in real life, I felt like it was well developed. Relatedly, and perhaps the one bone I have to pick with this book, it the play on stereotypes for certain parts of the world. For example, places like India and Saudi Arabia, which are rightly criticized in general for their treatment of women were very much played up as locales for violent regime overthrow with the introduction of the power, while places like the US (who really do not get enough criticism of their unequal treatment of women because it’s perhaps more…insidious? subtle? deceptive?) were portrayed with more diplomatic takeovers. Now I’m not saying I agree or disagree that that’s how this would fall out (I mean, this is fantasy, remember), but I do think in a couple places the stereotypes were used gratuitously while in other places the peacefulness was perhaps too optimistic? Who knows…just my thoughts there. But it’s a small thing, really, in the grand scheme of what this book accomplishes.

This is already super long, so I’m going to cut it here. But I hope that I was able to do at least a passable job in showing how impressed I was with this novel. It’s such a deeply created and portrayed inverse world and since I’ve finished I just cannot stop thinking about it. There is so much to discuss, so many amazing points made, both large and small. I can absolutely see how this has won so many awards. And though I can also see how it’s been so controversial/gotten such mixed reviews, I have to say that I personally think it was all completely deserved and I’ll definitely be recommending it widely. Every time I think I’ve hit on and thought about every detail and every theme, something else occurs to me and I want to talk/think about all of it all over again. Possibly ad nauseum…I think my husband is totally sick of me talking about this book. SO if you’ve read it and want to talk…send me a message or comment below!

There are an insane number of quotes/passages that I wanted to share. Here’s a small-ish sample.

“She cuppeth the lightening in her hand. She commandeth it to strike.”

“One of them says, 'Why did they do it?'
And the other answers, 'Because they could.'
That is the only answer there ever is.”

“‘God loves all of us,’ she says, ‘and She wants us to know that She has changed her garment merely. She is beyond female and male, She is beyond human understanding. But She calls your attention to that which you have forgotten. Jews: look to Miriam, not Moses, for what you can learn from her. Muslims: look to Fatima, not Muhammad. Buddhists: remember Tara, the mother of liberation. Christians: pray to Mary for your salvation.”

“You have been taught that you are unclean, that you are not holy, that your body is impure and could never harbour the divine. You have been taught to despise everything you are and to long only to be a man. But you have been taught lies.”

“It doesn't matter that she shouldn't, that she never would. What matters is that she could, if she wanted. The power to hurt is a kind of wealth.”

“Don’t be afraid. The only way to defeat this is not to be afraid. But the animal part of himself was afraid. There is a part in each of us which holds fast to the old truth: either you are the hunter or you are the prey. Learn which you are. Act accordingly. Your life depends upon it.”

“This is the trouble with history. You can't see what's not there. You can look at an empty space and see that something's missing, but there's no way to know what it was.”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

I think I’ve said this so many times that you could all write this part of the intro for me…but I love a retelling. When I saw this (standalone!) Little Mermaid retelling on NetGalley, which promised all the drama and love of the original, but with some added blood and gore, I definitely jumped at the chance to request it. Plus, it has pirates!

I’m sure we all know the story of The Little Mermaid, so I’ll skip over the synopsis and just jump right into point out some of my favorite details. I love how fierce our heroine, Lira, is. In the original, Ariel is a young, fairly helpless and naïve character, but Lira has so much more going for her (both good and bad). This is in part due to the fact that she is a siren (a more murderous sort of human-fish hybrid, according to all legends), instead of a “normal” mermaid. And in part due to that fact that she’s been raised by her ruthless and emotionally controlling mother, the Sea Queen (our Ursula), to be just as ruthless and emotionless. Essentially her “humanity” has been crushed out of her (see our connection there…). But her mother still doesn’t think it’s enough and as part of a punishment, Lira is turned into a human, told not to return to the sea until she can prove to her mother that she is worthy (by way of being merciless enough) to rule after her. In the bargain she loses her “voice,” her access to the siren song that is used to lure humans to their deaths in the ocean. I love this method of paralleling the original, Ariel’s loss of her voice, without having to take her ability to speak and communicate completely. It definitely made the development of the story easier and more realistic for both the author and the reader that our protagonist could talk.

Our other protagonist, Elian (the Prince Eric), is absolutely fuller than any Disney prince of that era, which was expected and necessary. Because really he’s pretty useless in the Disney version. In any case, that’s probably also because this is a much darker version of the story. I mean, Lira is known for her Prince killing (by ripping hearts out) and Elian has made a name for himself by leaving his “prince” duties behind in favor of a life of piracy and hunting/killing sirens. I love that our main couple are both killers in their own rights, violent and messy. They are equals in background. But they find common ground, even though they don’t speak to each other about it for quite some time, in struggling with how to fulfill the needs of their parents and prospective kingdoms, while also finding and being true to who they are. It’s a deeper connection than I expected them to have and enjoyed watching it develop and grow as they spent time together. Also, and I won’t spend too much time going into them individually, but there were some fun side/assisting characters too. I mean, not fun in the cute Flounder way, but fun in the way that adds a little light banter and extra intrigue to the plot.

As far as other aspects of this retelling that I liked, was the story line itself. It centered on a much greater concern than the small/personal “fall in love with me so I can stay a human” story of the original. This story is about worlds at war: sirens killing humans and humans striking back. And it’s about a quest to stop that…or well, what becomes a quest to stop that. There are a few changes of hearts and plot twists along the way. The world-building is interesting. It’s clear that a lot went into it – there are so many kingdoms, myths, histories, etc. that are visited and referenced that it’s really impressive. But almost there was so much that I wanted to read more about those, in addition to our main story. I’m not talking a series, but more like, standalone stories focused on characters from each of the different kingdoms that are mentioned – they are all so different and fascinating and there wasn’t enough time here to learn everything I wanted to about them. And I loved (loved) the ending! I mean yes, the conclusion to the story itself was written well and fit the story and characters, so I liked that. But even more than that I love the little “wrap-up chapter” – where Lira and Elian find themselves afterwards. The roles they are playing and how they are balancing these with who they have decided to be, as people (as siren?), and with spending time together. It’s a wonderful ending of compromise and support that is empowering for both. And that’s fairly rare. I appreciated it.

The one thing that kind of was too much for me was some of the internal thoughts we get from Lira and Elian. Their alternating chapter perspectives, which I did like, allowed us insight into both their though processes. And that was nice. But I think there was maybe too much exposition there. A number of their thoughts/conclusions were described multiple times, or they went back and forth on them to an extent that got a little annoying. This was made worse because I think sometimes the editing was off just a little…and the “talking in circles” seemed like it actually ended up saying the opposite of what the author wanted it to. Like, it almost confused itself, if that makes sense. So I could have done with a little less of that repetition/disorientation. It just could have used a little more polish (maybe because this was an ARC?). Also, I'm not sure about the title...I mean I guess I get it, but it doesn't seem to totally fit, in my opinion.

However, all in all, this was a super enjoyable read. The darker side that we get here was a terrific addition to the story, especially the banter between Lira and Elian (dark and snarky, just like I like it). And it had great pacing, with just the right blend of reference to the original tale and unique characteristics all its own, which is exactly what I look for in a retelling.

Thanks to NetGalley and that publisher, Macmillan, for sending me an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Here are some cute/short quotes I liked:

“Technically, I’m a murderer, but I like to think that’s one of my better qualities.”

“Homes are hard to find.”

“Did you make a wish?”
“Maybe I stole one instead.”

“…there is only this. Me, my ship, and a girl with oceans in her eyes.”

“Some people burn so brightly, it’s impossible to put the flames out.”

“The truth of what I am has become a nightmare.”

“But I don’t need people to die for me anymore. And I don’t need them to die because of me either.”

“It’s like holding a storm rather than a person; she feels wild and infinite in my arms.”

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

T.C. Boyle is an incredibly prolific author, one whose name is fairly widely known and respected, but I’ll be honest I have never really considered reading anything by him, nor even heard of this book, until it was sent to me in a book subscription box (Muse Monthly). And even then, it has taken me over a year to get around to it. Not because it doesn’t sound interesting, but just…there are so many books to read, ok. I just didn’t get to it. But I recently decided that the time had come for me to try my first fiction audiobook. If you follow my reviews at all, you’ll notice that most of my nonfiction reads are actually listens…and I have never tried a fiction audiobook before. I always have been so worried that I’ll get confused with the dialogue. However, after a year or so of nonfiction listens, I figured I was accustomed enough to the media to try something new. And when I saw this one on the shelf at the library, I figured here was my chance to try something new and knock out a backlist book at the same time. Perfect.

This is an interesting mix of contemporary lit and sci-fi that I haven’t really read before, like magical realism but with sci-fi instead of fantasy elements. It’s based in our normal world, or more specifically, the pre-“ubiquitous internet and cell phone” world of the mid-1990s. Close enough. But it’s a sci-fi sort of tale in that tells the story of 8 “terranauts,” hand-picked scientists and environmentalists chosen to part of a human and scientific experiment funded by a billionaire visionary in response to global overpopulation and climate change. They will spend two years living under glass in E2, a prototype of a possible off-earth colony (based loosely on the actual Biosphere 2 complex in Arizona?), living in this air-locked environment under the motto “nothing in, nothing out.” But as the two years pass, these 8 people face possible disasters both external and internal that threaten their cooperation and the mission at large, all while under intense media scrutiny. I mean none of that actually happened, but it’s not out of the question to the extent that I feel a full-on sci-fi categorization is unnecessary. Very interesting.

The story is told by three separate narrators: Dawn, the mission’s generalist ecologist (young and pretty), Ramsay, the mission’s communications officer (and a bit sexually irrepressible), and Linda, Dawn’s friend who was passed over as one of the 8 and is supporting the mission from the outside (and is perhaps a bit bitter about it). First, to be clear, this was a great fiction piece to start with on audio, as the three POVs were read by three different narrators who all did a great job and separated the sections wonderfully. In addition, a lot of it was “written” as sort of journal entries, so the dialogue was fairly minimal. (Good choice, me!) And even if I had been reading it like normal, I have to say that the voices of the characters were fantastically distinct and personal. They each truly seemed like separate entities, which is not always a given when the same writer is penning every perspective. I could pick up the book and open to any page and know just from a sentence or two who the narrator is at that point. Very impressive. Relatedly, the general character development was extensive and so real. Like, these characters came alive and I swear I felt like I could have googled them and actually looked up all the events/drama they were talking about happening throughout the novel. Dawn, Ramsay and Linda all read as truly multifaceted and meaningful people, with all the quirks, flaws, unreliability and bias of any real person. And let me tell you, the author pulled no punches on that score. In fact, these were three of the most flawed characters I may have ever read, all in one place. I may even go so far as to say that not a single one of them was fully likable. There were parts in every single narrative that had me cringing, rolling my eyes, getting angry/annoyed, etc. I mean I loved their individuality, but most of the time it was like reading (listening to) a train wreck – it’s horrible but you can’t look away. I appreciated it though; I do enjoy reading about unlikable characters, as they are often the most dynamic.

As far as plot is concerned, it’s definitely secondary to the characters in this novel. I mean, things definitely happen, all based around the team’s 2 years under glass. There is a lot of drama that unfolds related to being in such an enclosed place, with the same people and limited food rations and entertainment options. And of course there is the one large…slip?...if you will, that becomes the centerpoint of the story after it occurs (about a third of the way in). And that event really affects the ways the continued development of the characters and their relationships/interactions with each other unfold. But at the end of the day, this is really a trumped up, academic gossip column story. For all the complicated covers of science experiments, environmental concerns, the future of humanity, the mission, etc. the focus is really the drama of the exploration of small group dynamics. Don’t get me wrong, it was actually fascinating, at times, but it was not an action-packed plot in the traditional sense. So that means that, at times, the “story” dragged a little, or focused on random things that really didn’t seem all that important/necessary, at the expense/in favor of developing other parts. I think, if I had been reading, it might have put me off (especially since I hadn’t known to expect that and wouldn’t have been prepped for it). But listening to it was a great experience. I got really into the story, the way the narrators were telling it, their different biases/interpretations of the same situations, etc. Random bonus: it had one of the best/most poignant double-meaning last lines I have ever read. In fact, all the endings were adeptly written combinations of closure (pun not intended…if you’ve read it, you’ll get this) and open-endedness.

Overall, the language, flow and character development were clearly written by a master of language. Although it was not necessarily plot heavy, there was enough of it (and it was well created enough) to support the greater focus of the story, all of which was handled and executed with great skill. If you are in the mood for some serious psyche-examination, then this is definitely the book for you.

This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.

This one got a lot of positive pre-release pub…and all of it said get ready to have your heart broken. I’m not always in the mood for that, so I waited. Because to appreciate a story like this, you need to be ready. But I knew that eventually I wanted to read it because that title is just…everything. I’ve been getting really into feminist fiction literature lately and I knew this is one that would fit beautifully into that genre. But at the same time it’s real, not speculative, fiction, and that deserves an extra layer of care and respect. I was lucky that the correct mood hit at the same time that it was available at my local library.

Girls Burn Brighter is about two young women living in India, Savitha and Poornima. From fairly different background, but still struggling with the reality of being women, they meet as teenagers. Poornima’s mother has just died and she is running the household by herself, while her father attempts to arrange her marriage with a less than impressive dowry. Savitha’s family is even poorer than Poornima’s, her father is an alcoholic, and she is struggling to make enough money to save for her younger sister’s dowries (not to mention her own). When they meet, they are each drawn to each other in a way they’ve never felt before, becoming fast and close friends and confidants. But then an unspeakable action causes Savitha to run away and Poornima is left alone, thrust into a marriage that turns ever more dangerous and violent. Years later, both girls have faced horrific bodily harm and mental/emotional trauma, but holding onto the memory of each other, each in their own way, allows them to keep a hold on their inner flame, the light that keeps them truly alive. And they each begin to take steps to find some freedom, to find a better future for themselves and, potentially, to find each other again.

Let me start with the writing, because I need a moment to gather myself before I can talk about the story itself. The writing was superb. The prose was simultaneously poetic and clear, which is exactly what it needed to be in order to tell a story like this. I felt completely transported while reading, but also managed to stay grounded in the events. And I loved the (rightful) anger in the tone of the writing juxtaposed with, so often, the resignation of our characters (at times our heroines, but most often the others), or at least lack of interest in breaking free from, to the reality of their situations. The combination was utterly striking. The pacing was perfect, with the story moving forward smoothly while we waited and hoped with bated breath for things to get better, for the happy ending we hoped was coming but with each passing heartbreak became less and less sure of seeing. And the alternating viewpoints of Savitha and Poornima did a wonderful job in telling their stories separately while jointing giving us a more complete picture of what life is like for women in a variety of circumstances and locations.

As for the story itself, one of the blurbs on the cover says that this book “…blew my heart up. Heart-shards everywhere.” and honestly I do not know if I can find better words than that. Savthia and Poornima face some of the worst possible conditions, in both the regular world and underworld of India and in the regular and underworld of the United States. And for all their horrific “luck” (if you will, because I cannot think of another way to put it), facing many of the most horrible treatments against women that can be perpetrated commonly (and uncommonly) in both India and the US, it never seems forced. It never comes across as if the author is trying to fit in as many heartbreaking “buzzword” situations as possible. No. In fact, it seems, and this might be what is saddest about reading this, like what they deal with is almost the most understandable chain of events, considering the limited options available to them. And still, their stories are mixed in with spots of good “luck,” of good people stepping in to lend a small hand and of small moments tilting in their favor. So that as you read all these horrible things they face, you sometimes find yourself thinking, ‘wow, that could still be so much worse.’ And that’s shattering to imagine. Heartbreaking in the extreme. And you want it to be unbelievable, but it’s not. This is real life for so many. And they each deserve to have their stories recognized and their fates fought against.

It’s just…I don’t even know…there are so many layers of opportunities/possibilities coming together to create a reality that seems almost predestined. But even through that, our heroines manage not to lose themselves to the same resignation that everyone around them is suffering from. The light inside of them, originally lit one for the other and maintained through memories of each other, flickers but never dies. They struggle with realizations that they will have to be as ruthless as the world they were born into in order to own their ending. They fight towards each other, to the exclusion of almost all else and even when there seems to be no hope. It’s inspiring in the way that makes you want to cry for days and find a way to change the world so that no one else ever has to be that inspiring again. And, since this seems to be the place to say it, the ending is pure bittersweet perfection. The author creates a flawless open-ended moment that mixes your knowledge that things are not over and more, perhaps worse, perhaps permanent heartbreak is still coming, but there is also a flawless spot of hope…a flame that matches the one Savitha and Poornima having been carrying within them throughout the novel. And I closed the book knowing that while it might not be the “happy” I wanted them to have, I also knew that they stood a chance.

I recommend this to everyone. It’s beautiful and terrible and so, so important. Although it was hard to read sometimes, that’s exactly why it should be read widely. And to end on a more hopeful note, in the spirit of the book, things may seem bleak, but if we, as women, stand together for each other, we make a better future possible. Because it’s true: girls do burn brighter.

Here are some of my favorite quotes, many of which have that juxtaposition of anger and poetry that (I felt) gave this book the heat it deserved:

“That’s the thing with girls, isn’t it? … Whenever they stand on the edge of something, you can’t help it, you can’t. You think, Push. That’s all it would take. Just on little push.”

“I’m the one with wings.”

“…she began to see the world differently; she began to see it with a kind of clarity: there was what you owed, and there was what you could sell to pay off what you owed, and whatever was left (if there was anything left) was all that you could say was truly yours, all that you could truly love.”

“Savitha would only smile and burn brighter.”

“She was tired of deals. Every moment in a woman’s life was a deal, a deal for her body: first for its blooming and then for its wilting, first for her bleeding and then for her virginity and then for her bearing (counting only the sons) and then for her widowing.”

“What fools we all are. We girls. Afraid of the wrong things at the wrong times. Afraid of a burned face when outside, outside waiting for you are fires you cannot imagine. Men, holding matches up to your gasoline eyes. Flames, flames all around you, licking at your just-born breasts, your just-bled body. And infernos. Infernos as wide as the world. Waiting to impoverish you, make you ash, and even the wind, even the wind. Even the wind, my dear, she thought, watching you burn, passing over you, and through you. Scattering you, because you are a girl, and because you are ash.”

“As if, against rain, against my father, against what remained, all we had to do was stand closer. Stand together. As if, against rain, against fate, against war, two bodies – the bodies of two girls – were greater than one.”