Take a photo of a barcode or cover
The best way to describe this read is controversial. My brother really likes Crichton, and when he urged me to read RISING SUN, I was happy to. Crichton does an extraordinary amount of research for each book and his efforts combined with his great sense of plot pacing makes for a brilliant read.
RISING SUN did not disappoint in that regard. I flew through the pages like they were nothing. What was a bit difficult to swallow was the topic. Crichton uses this work as a warning against heavy Japanese investment in the USA. It's obvious that he carefully crafted everything to speak against this foreign investment, to the point where gaining justice for the murder victim is largely forgotten. I wasn't born yet when Japanese companies bought up gobs of American companies, universities, and land. For someone who's more familiar with Japan's creative enterprises, the book's premise seems like a nutty conspiracy theory. It's only after I asked my parents that I knew that Americans "turning Japanese" was a real (racist) concern, once.
My other quibble was how Crichton referred to the Japanese characters as one homogenous group of despicable people. The book deals with huge mega-corporations: of course everyone's despicable. Corporations are always despicable in novels, especially thrillers, whether or not they are in real life. It was tiresome how every bad thing, every conflict, every backstory, every complaint or rotten thing was linked back to Japan. Like, COME ON, even the really awesome disabled, biracial, female electrical engineer hates the Japanese (ps that I still adore that character though).
All of the above doesn't take away from how well-written the book is, and the plot/mystery is engrossing to say the least. The three stars are earned, and I'm eager to pick up another Crichton on a wholly different topic. Just as long as it doesn't take pot shots at other countries.
RISING SUN did not disappoint in that regard. I flew through the pages like they were nothing. What was a bit difficult to swallow was the topic. Crichton uses this work as a warning against heavy Japanese investment in the USA. It's obvious that he carefully crafted everything to speak against this foreign investment, to the point where gaining justice for the murder victim is largely forgotten. I wasn't born yet when Japanese companies bought up gobs of American companies, universities, and land. For someone who's more familiar with Japan's creative enterprises, the book's premise seems like a nutty conspiracy theory. It's only after I asked my parents that I knew that Americans "turning Japanese" was a real (racist) concern, once.
My other quibble was how Crichton referred to the Japanese characters as one homogenous group of despicable people. The book deals with huge mega-corporations: of course everyone's despicable. Corporations are always despicable in novels, especially thrillers, whether or not they are in real life. It was tiresome how every bad thing, every conflict, every backstory, every complaint or rotten thing was linked back to Japan. Like, COME ON, even the really awesome disabled, biracial, female electrical engineer hates the Japanese (ps that I still adore that character though).
All of the above doesn't take away from how well-written the book is, and the plot/mystery is engrossing to say the least. The three stars are earned, and I'm eager to pick up another Crichton on a wholly different topic. Just as long as it doesn't take pot shots at other countries.
Discord's Apple was an impulse library borrow. I'm familiar with Carrie Vaughn's Kitty Norville series and love the way she deftly handles the integration of the super into the natural world. Werewolves, vampires, witches, zombies, and other magical creatures have always been metaphors for the marginalized and vulnerable members of society, and Vaughn's practical, empathetic writing style normalized them; moved them from unknowable "other" to a familiar person, worthy of love. Weirdly, it's difficult to find even one of the fifteen books in the series in libraries and bookstores without special ordering, so when I stumbled upon the V part of the SF/F library section and again found only Vaughn's standalone novels staring me in the face, I plucked Discord's Apple off the shelf. I was curious to see how Vaughn would handle the more limited plot space of a standalone as well as her interpretation of Greek myth. Characters would have to be introduced and changed in a much more limited page space than a fifteen book series.
The answer is she handled it all really well. Discord's Apple is the story of the end of the world. In a reality that probably seemed incredibly far away & unlikely in 2010 and now might be next Thursday if the loud yam continues to be the USA president, nuclear missiles are being exchanged like love letters, domestic terrorism is at an all-time high, and neighbors report "suspicious persons" to the police for instant arrest. In the foreground of this bleak backdrop, Evie Walker, our heroine and LA comic book writer, has received the news that her father is dying of cancer. Because domestic, day-to-day life goes on, even at the end of the world.
Once Evie arrives at her small, Colorado hometown, several plot threads begin unraveling: the increasingly lethal political climate, her father's failing health, her looming comic script deadline, the mysterious Storeroom of enchanted objects, and the equally mysterious people who are trying to get into it. Vaughn expertly weaves them together, and the characters are an equal delight. Out of myth and legend and fae steps Robin Goodfellow, Arthur, Merlin, Hera, the Fairy Godmother, Queen Mab, and of course Alex, once known as Sinon the Liar. Vaughn wonderfully makes each both relatable and larger than life. Themes of trust, magic, war, death, power, and the apocalypse were teased out and developed without a beat missed. While she doesn't explicitly state his gender identity, Alex does love both male and female characters, so applause and kudos for the bisexual/pansexual man representation and bonus bonus points for having him not be a free-lovin' party-goer cliché.
The quibbles I had were minor. As you can probably tell from the mythic line up, there is a focus on the canon of Western literature, which I was not surprised, but still disappointed by. The story goes from dark to darker, and I would have preferred a bigger spark of hope. With so much else going on, the romance between Alex and Evie was not as passionate and overwhelming as I thought it would be, given their decisions at the end.
Like in the Kitty Norville series, Vaughn takes pains to transform the magical other into the magical normalized. There is an insistence that Evie and the other guardians of the Storeroom have no magic of their own. Their only power is in knowing, loving, and continuing on, which was comforting to read. Truth be told, I teared up quite a bit reading, for how raw and real the story and characters were. As a book nerd writer from a rural area, Evie was me and I was Evie. I recommend Discord's Apple if you're a Greek myth & Brit lit fan not quite in need of sanctuary from the times, but want to see magic return to our disheartening world. Vaughn will take care of you.
The answer is she handled it all really well. Discord's Apple is the story of the end of the world. In a reality that probably seemed incredibly far away & unlikely in 2010 and now might be next Thursday if the loud yam continues to be the USA president, nuclear missiles are being exchanged like love letters, domestic terrorism is at an all-time high, and neighbors report "suspicious persons" to the police for instant arrest. In the foreground of this bleak backdrop, Evie Walker, our heroine and LA comic book writer, has received the news that her father is dying of cancer. Because domestic, day-to-day life goes on, even at the end of the world.
Once Evie arrives at her small, Colorado hometown, several plot threads begin unraveling: the increasingly lethal political climate, her father's failing health, her looming comic script deadline, the mysterious Storeroom of enchanted objects, and the equally mysterious people who are trying to get into it. Vaughn expertly weaves them together, and the characters are an equal delight. Out of myth and legend and fae steps Robin Goodfellow, Arthur, Merlin, Hera, the Fairy Godmother, Queen Mab, and of course Alex, once known as Sinon the Liar. Vaughn wonderfully makes each both relatable and larger than life. Themes of trust, magic, war, death, power, and the apocalypse were teased out and developed without a beat missed. While she doesn't explicitly state his gender identity, Alex does love both male and female characters, so applause and kudos for the bisexual/pansexual man representation and bonus bonus points for having him not be a free-lovin' party-goer cliché.
The quibbles I had were minor. As you can probably tell from the mythic line up, there is a focus on the canon of Western literature, which I was not surprised, but still disappointed by. The story goes from dark to darker, and I would have preferred a bigger spark of hope. With so much else going on, the romance between Alex and Evie was not as passionate and overwhelming as I thought it would be, given their decisions at the end.
Like in the Kitty Norville series, Vaughn takes pains to transform the magical other into the magical normalized. There is an insistence that Evie and the other guardians of the Storeroom have no magic of their own. Their only power is in knowing, loving, and continuing on, which was comforting to read. Truth be told, I teared up quite a bit reading, for how raw and real the story and characters were. As a book nerd writer from a rural area, Evie was me and I was Evie. I recommend Discord's Apple if you're a Greek myth & Brit lit fan not quite in need of sanctuary from the times, but want to see magic return to our disheartening world. Vaughn will take care of you.
As a reward for finishing a work project, I sat myself down in Barnes & Noble's coffee corner and read My Solo Exchange Diary in one sitting. By the end I was out of coffee and full of a profound sense of hope, more commonly known as tears.
Once again, the plot of the memoir is simple, and the main conflict takes place within. Kabi wishes to move out of her parents' house, is confronted with hard truths about herself, and must do lots of interior de-tangling to reach her goal.
My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness had been a cathartic read for me, with its revealed emotions and struggle. This sequel volume twisted my heart equally well, with its focus on family and independence. If a panel wasn't an exact replica of my situation and emotions, as a queer American millennial writer with disabilities, the panel echoed a dear friend's experience. The sheer relief of not being alone in struggle was overwhelming at times. Kabi's writing and art are well-polished and comforting, despite the often bleak subject matter. Her drawings and coloring soften many a blow. My Solo Exchange Diary is a second masterwork in what it's like to be a wlw creative in today's world, and, reader, I bought a copy.
Once again, the plot of the memoir is simple, and the main conflict takes place within. Kabi wishes to move out of her parents' house, is confronted with hard truths about herself, and must do lots of interior de-tangling to reach her goal.
My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness had been a cathartic read for me, with its revealed emotions and struggle. This sequel volume twisted my heart equally well, with its focus on family and independence. If a panel wasn't an exact replica of my situation and emotions, as a queer American millennial writer with disabilities, the panel echoed a dear friend's experience. The sheer relief of not being alone in struggle was overwhelming at times. Kabi's writing and art are well-polished and comforting, despite the often bleak subject matter. Her drawings and coloring soften many a blow. My Solo Exchange Diary is a second masterwork in what it's like to be a wlw creative in today's world, and, reader, I bought a copy.
Courtney Milan's work came very highly recommended from the Twitter romance writers community, so when Milan announced a sale on Once Upon a Marquess, I snapped it up. This first installment in the Worth Saga was a hilarious, all-round good time that I heartily recommend to light-hearted historical romance fans everywhere.
Once Upon a Marquess centers on the lives and tribulations of Lady Judith Worth and Lord Christian Trent, Marquess of Ashford. Set in 1860s Victorian England, Judith is the daughter of a disgraced Earl and struggles to support her siblings and recapture the riches of their past. Through much thrift and a metric ton of self-taught horology, Judith has manged to provide dowries for her sisters and brother, but the moment she hands the cash over to the safe-keeping of a solicitor, the money vanishes. Because this is Victorian England, Judith needs an upper class man to glower the solicitor into giving up the money's location. But the only man who will have anything to do with her put her family in disgrace in the first place. Christian Trent was just trying to do the right thing, when he reported that Judith's brother and father told state secrets to the Chinese government. Honest.
In the tumbling laughter of the friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers trope, Judith and Christian's relationship was hysterically funny to read. Both of them love wordplay, so I frequently stopped to highlight extended sections of dumb jokes. The historical research was spot on, as far as I could tell, and well-used to raise stakes, color in the world, and form character. The identity rep included mental illness and mentions of men who love men existing. Other reviews have noted that Milan is famous for her humor and slow burn romance, and they are right. The themes of righteousness, justice, family, and patriotism were surprisingly deep, though the patriotism one seemed very far away. I'd dunk most of the current American government administration in the trash for one (1) corn chip.
Once Upon a Marquess is the historical romantic comedy equivalent of tea & scones while tucked cozy in the corner. Milan has created a delightful, entertaining world to escape to, and I look forward to reading the rest of the Worth Saga.
Once Upon a Marquess centers on the lives and tribulations of Lady Judith Worth and Lord Christian Trent, Marquess of Ashford. Set in 1860s Victorian England, Judith is the daughter of a disgraced Earl and struggles to support her siblings and recapture the riches of their past. Through much thrift and a metric ton of self-taught horology, Judith has manged to provide dowries for her sisters and brother, but the moment she hands the cash over to the safe-keeping of a solicitor, the money vanishes. Because this is Victorian England, Judith needs an upper class man to glower the solicitor into giving up the money's location. But the only man who will have anything to do with her put her family in disgrace in the first place. Christian Trent was just trying to do the right thing, when he reported that Judith's brother and father told state secrets to the Chinese government. Honest.
In the tumbling laughter of the friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers trope, Judith and Christian's relationship was hysterically funny to read. Both of them love wordplay, so I frequently stopped to highlight extended sections of dumb jokes. The historical research was spot on, as far as I could tell, and well-used to raise stakes, color in the world, and form character. The identity rep included mental illness and mentions of men who love men existing. Other reviews have noted that Milan is famous for her humor and slow burn romance, and they are right. The themes of righteousness, justice, family, and patriotism were surprisingly deep, though the patriotism one seemed very far away. I'd dunk most of the current American government administration in the trash for one (1) corn chip.
Once Upon a Marquess is the historical romantic comedy equivalent of tea & scones while tucked cozy in the corner. Milan has created a delightful, entertaining world to escape to, and I look forward to reading the rest of the Worth Saga.
Drums of Autumn is the fourth book of the Outlander series, and I snuck it in right before the TV series comes out, so ha! Unfortunately, this installment was my least favorite of the series so far, so the huzzahs are mostly focused on it being blessedly over.
This is Gabaldon though, so everything is not completely terrible. Voyager left Jamie and Claire recovering from shipwreck in the American colonies. Drums of Autumn picks up very quickly after and focuses on the establishment of Fraser's Ridge, Jamie & Claire's home in the Carolinas. Meanwhile, back in the 1970s, Brianna and Roger explore their relationship and discover that Fraser's Ridge and its inhabitants will meet a fiery demise. Brianna's response to this information is to fly across time & space to warn her mother. Roger's response is lots of misogynistic bullsh*t, which, coincidentally, leads him back in time to Fraser's Ridge.
Yeah, I really, truly, deeply dislike Roger, after this book. Not only did he run into the Green Principle, where I stop caring for a character after they cross a certain level of stupidity, but also his actions were downright distasteful. He is hot-headed in decisions, self-absorbed to the extreme, constantly objectifies women, and rarely competent at anything. Toward the end, Claire comments how Roger has gained an aura of quiet, potential violence about him, and I was not pleased. I'd rather him go away. Brianna's love for Roger, while understandable as her "first," was lots of me whispering "oh, honey, you can do better than that" into the pages. Roger & Brianna's romance was much more mundane than Jamie & Claire's, like background characters falling in love, but we have pages upon pages upon pages devoted to it. Why must we tough out five hundred pages on their limp duck romance when we have a bloody filet mignon Jamie & Claire romance going on? Why, I ask you. Why.
My dislike of Roger was even more unfortunate because he's a POV character and therefore hard to escape. Gabaldon continues to use third person point of view for people who are not Claire, and she struggles visibly, with chapters bouncing among characters' heads like escaped ping pong balls. I understand that no one is as awesome as Claire and that this series is Claire's story, but must I be reminded every twenty pages? It was confusing, and toward the end I breathed noticeably easier during Claire chapters.
There was also the problem of the plot, which other reviewers have noted. While not as divided as the other novels, this plot only held together by making previously intelligent characters moronic and more stubborn. Brianna is a woman and studied history: she should know what "meet me later in my boat" with waggly eyebrows means. Hell, the Brianna of previous novels would have walked into that meeting knowing full well what Bonnet intended, yanked the power out from under him by loudly consenting, snatched her mother's ring back, and told Roger all about it to spite him. There is nothing shameful about sex work, and thinking otherwise is patriarchal nonsense. The Jamie of previous novels would have told Claire things immediately, and not threatened, manhandled, or manipulated his daughter. The Claire I know would not have shrugged off the duty to teach Jamie & wee Ian feminist principles about how women have control of their bodies, and she would have worked to close the cultural gap between her culture and his. The last arc of the novel left me feeling heartsick all around. Not a good time.
As I said, however, Drums of Autumn has its strengths. Gabaldon has created characters that we love so much that we are eager and hungry for every morsel, so I was delighted when the entire plot was just "And then Lord John and Willie visited," "the pig is stuck in the pantry," or "there's a snake in the toilet." These little slice-of-life sections felt like fluff fanfic, and I gave thanks. The depth of historical research, the sense of adventure, the breath-taking, nature-centric poetic language, the steamy smex scenes: those were still wrought with masterful vividness. I quite liked the mystery in River Run, and, while as a white person I'm not the best to ask, the portrayal of Native Americans seemed respectful. The "Claire is a witch with supernatural powers" theme is deepened, and it is my favorite. If anyone has fanfic recs of Claire/Jamie/Gellis/John Grey OT4 with Gellis & Claire as light & dark witches, please pass it along.
Overall, I'd recommend Drums of Autumn to Outlander fan purists. My partner assures me that the series (and Roger) gets better, so, if not offensive to your bookish sensibilities, skip this book, look up the summary, and move on to The Fiery Cross. Maybe the TV show will be better. If you must read Drums of Autumn, gird your loins for a rough ride.
This is Gabaldon though, so everything is not completely terrible. Voyager left Jamie and Claire recovering from shipwreck in the American colonies. Drums of Autumn picks up very quickly after and focuses on the establishment of Fraser's Ridge, Jamie & Claire's home in the Carolinas. Meanwhile, back in the 1970s, Brianna and Roger explore their relationship and discover that Fraser's Ridge and its inhabitants will meet a fiery demise. Brianna's response to this information is to fly across time & space to warn her mother. Roger's response is lots of misogynistic bullsh*t, which, coincidentally, leads him back in time to Fraser's Ridge.
Yeah, I really, truly, deeply dislike Roger, after this book. Not only did he run into the Green Principle, where I stop caring for a character after they cross a certain level of stupidity, but also his actions were downright distasteful. He is hot-headed in decisions, self-absorbed to the extreme, constantly objectifies women, and rarely competent at anything. Toward the end, Claire comments how Roger has gained an aura of quiet, potential violence about him, and I was not pleased. I'd rather him go away. Brianna's love for Roger, while understandable as her "first," was lots of me whispering "oh, honey, you can do better than that" into the pages. Roger & Brianna's romance was much more mundane than Jamie & Claire's, like background characters falling in love, but we have pages upon pages upon pages devoted to it. Why must we tough out five hundred pages on their limp duck romance when we have a bloody filet mignon Jamie & Claire romance going on? Why, I ask you. Why.
My dislike of Roger was even more unfortunate because he's a POV character and therefore hard to escape. Gabaldon continues to use third person point of view for people who are not Claire, and she struggles visibly, with chapters bouncing among characters' heads like escaped ping pong balls. I understand that no one is as awesome as Claire and that this series is Claire's story, but must I be reminded every twenty pages? It was confusing, and toward the end I breathed noticeably easier during Claire chapters.
There was also the problem of the plot, which other reviewers have noted. While not as divided as the other novels, this plot only held together by making previously intelligent characters moronic and more stubborn. Brianna is a woman and studied history: she should know what "meet me later in my boat" with waggly eyebrows means. Hell, the Brianna of previous novels would have walked into that meeting knowing full well what Bonnet intended, yanked the power out from under him by loudly consenting, snatched her mother's ring back, and told Roger all about it to spite him. There is nothing shameful about sex work, and thinking otherwise is patriarchal nonsense. The Jamie of previous novels would have told Claire things immediately, and not threatened, manhandled, or manipulated his daughter. The Claire I know would not have shrugged off the duty to teach Jamie & wee Ian feminist principles about how women have control of their bodies, and she would have worked to close the cultural gap between her culture and his. The last arc of the novel left me feeling heartsick all around. Not a good time.
As I said, however, Drums of Autumn has its strengths. Gabaldon has created characters that we love so much that we are eager and hungry for every morsel, so I was delighted when the entire plot was just "And then Lord John and Willie visited," "the pig is stuck in the pantry," or "there's a snake in the toilet." These little slice-of-life sections felt like fluff fanfic, and I gave thanks. The depth of historical research, the sense of adventure, the breath-taking, nature-centric poetic language, the steamy smex scenes: those were still wrought with masterful vividness. I quite liked the mystery in River Run, and, while as a white person I'm not the best to ask, the portrayal of Native Americans seemed respectful. The "Claire is a witch with supernatural powers" theme is deepened, and it is my favorite. If anyone has fanfic recs of Claire/Jamie/Gellis/John Grey OT4 with Gellis & Claire as light & dark witches, please pass it along.
Overall, I'd recommend Drums of Autumn to Outlander fan purists. My partner assures me that the series (and Roger) gets better, so, if not offensive to your bookish sensibilities, skip this book, look up the summary, and move on to The Fiery Cross. Maybe the TV show will be better. If you must read Drums of Autumn, gird your loins for a rough ride.
Oh wow, this book, oh goodness, this book. Holy wow ka-zowka, THIS BOOK. Why aren't more people freaking out about this book. Why is it not decorated with awards, on everybody's bookshelf, and being foisted upon all relatives and friends, and being adapted into a movie and/or mini-series? I love this book.
Not only are Tan's classic metaphors and lovely language in top, sparkling form, but also the characters are so neatly penned that I feel like I grew up with them. I followed the main protagonist, Violet, from tiniest childhood to ripe middle-age, and I know her so intimately I could spot her on the street. I was frustrated with her, angry on her behalf, sad for her sadness, and then deliriously happy for her happiness. It's a complete and total journey.
I screamed, I laughed, I cried, and then I laughed some more. A brilliant, fantastic work that I highly recommend to anyone and everyone with even the vaguest inclination towards reading.
Not only are Tan's classic metaphors and lovely language in top, sparkling form, but also the characters are so neatly penned that I feel like I grew up with them. I followed the main protagonist, Violet, from tiniest childhood to ripe middle-age, and I know her so intimately I could spot her on the street. I was frustrated with her, angry on her behalf, sad for her sadness, and then deliriously happy for her happiness. It's a complete and total journey.
I screamed, I laughed, I cried, and then I laughed some more. A brilliant, fantastic work that I highly recommend to anyone and everyone with even the vaguest inclination towards reading.
