octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

The poems in "Wake" are an exploration of death, moving into and out of death's house and often referencing fairy tales (for example Snow White) or mythology. Most interesting is Wiseman's perception of death as female - often a sister - which isn't a common approach. I think my favourite poems were "Considering Lore" (on the fiction of stories, with a fantastic last line) and "Anthology of the Dead" (where murdered women recount their own ends).

A really beautifully written account of the author's (admittedly very rose-tinted) childhood in rural England. Nothing much happens, it's true, but the strength of this account lies in Lee's use of language. It's rich and evocative and almost hypnotic.

Really quite lovely, although it's painful reading in parts. It's part meditation on mermaids, part exploration of the consequences of alcoholism, and each of the sections informs the other. A study in symbols, essentially, and of the things that bind them together.

I recently read another of Wiseman's books ("Wake") and in a way I wish I'd read this one first, as gives background to the other; explains it a little more I think.

Vorbis, a religious man in his own mind, gets tripped up by his own mind - and a man, and a turtle. Pratchett takes on organised religion, essentially, and it's funny and horrifying all at once. For a lot of people I know this is their favourite Pratchett, but Brutha has never had the same appeal to me as Granny or Vimes, for instance. I don't know that he's cynical enough, though I suppose Om has cynicism for the both of them.

Excellent, highly imaginative story. It's the touches of whimsy that really make it for me... all the little details. Reading it again, I'm remembering how much I liked Dumbledore in this first book (compared to how much I hated the secretive old sod later on). Granted, most of the action is confined to the end of the book, with 9/10ths of the thing being an exercise in extended world-building, but it's all done so charmingly I just don't care.

I enjoyed this, but I didn't like it nearly as much as the first in the series. Part of the reason for that is how both girls are sidelined towards the end (and while I'm largely indifferent to Ginny, Hermione's my favourite and I miss seeing her). But the bulk of my downgrade is due to a single factor: Dobby. Or, as I like to call him, F---ing Dobby. In my personal list of Most Annoying Characters Ever Created, he shares top position with Jar Jar Binks. They're tied because I honestly can't decide which one of them is worse.

I know some people love him. Fair enough, but I don't.

My grandparents gave this (and its predecessor) to me as a kid, and even then I knew it was terribly old-fashioned but I loved it anyway. It can be preachy in places, but I enjoyed the characters so much that I didn't care and still don't.

I was also delighted with who Amy ended up marrying. (I think the chapter in question, "Learning to Forget" is my favourite of the entire series.) I know a lot of people weren't thrilled with the outcome, but I was so too bad for them!

One of the touchstone books of my adolescence. I read it at about 13, I suppose, and was utterly enthralled. Rereading now doesn't quite give the same experience, of course (it's easier to see the flaws, for one) and if I'd just read it for the first time (instead of the fifteenth, probably) I'd probably give it four stars, but my remembered love for this book pushes it up to five.

It reads like fantasy but the sequels do place it a bit more in science fiction, I suppose. Anyway, this was the best of the three books in the trilogy, and I particularly liked how the text made very clear that the main character's fascination with the vamp was grossly ill-advised.

I think my favourite part of it, that kept me going back, was the setting. On an engineered, terraformed Moon, with the Earth hanging heavy in the sky and filled with genetically engineered creatures and the remnants of old technology... it was just wonderful.

An epic journey, full of mythological figures. And as with a lot of mythology, the characterisation is pretty thin. Even the protagonist, Ingrid, doesn't have much in the way of personality. In fact it's one of the supporting characters - and sometime antagonist - Glimir who's the most interesting. I've often wondered how this book would be improved if she were the main character.

The real strength here lies in the description of landscape. It's extremely evocative, and gives me a wonderful sense of an environment I've never visited. There is arguably, however, too much of it. The book as a whole is very long-winded, and could have done with being cut down by at least a third (the absolutely unnecessary bookends could go for a start).

An interesting account of the author's time as an English teacher in Eretria. The book's not just a personal account, however. It's also a history of Eretria's conflict with neighbouring Ethiopia - quite a potted history, admittedly, but very readable and deeply horrifying. I finished this book even more convinced than usual of my general ignorance; I'd no idea at all of what had happened there.