octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

The Rivers of London series is my favourite urban fantasy series. I love the main character, and his snark-meets-Captain-Carrot approach to community policing. (Actually, I like pretty much all the characters, which is something I rarely find in urban fantasy.) I like the humour and the tone, and I really love the diversity.

That said, Broken Homes just didn't do it for me like the others do. It was ok, but it just didn't grab me in the same way. For one (and this is petty but true, at least in my case) it has the two most boring opening pages of any book I think I've ever read. I glazed over within two paragraphs, and even Ayers and his horrible philosophy didn't have that effect. (Apparently philosophy beats traffic accident reporting - who knew?) More crucially: Lesley. She's one of the characters I really like - her snarky friendship with Peter is comic gold and for me the most consistently entertaining part of the series. I did not like how she ended up. I especially do not like the fact that seemingly, the only women left are very minor supporting roles, the most prominent of which is the maid, who never even speaks. One of the reasons I value this series so highly is the diversity, and I feel that's just taken a very big knock.

Most importantly, though: Broken Homes feels like a set-up. A series of events padded out and linked together in order to set up the final shocker. Credit where due, it is a shocker - it's also the only really exciting bit in the book. Too much set-up, too little plot.

That being said, I'm still excited to read the next book.

You know, there are a lot of things to like about this series. The creatures are interesting, the world is interesting, and the secondary cast gets ever bigger and more fleshed out, which I enjoy.

But the main character... she must be sucking the luck out of every person in a fifty mile radius, because none of her survival is due to brain power. I know I've complained about this before, but her inability to connect the dots is becoming ever more unbelievable. And this time, this time! She brings back to life a villain and I just want to kick her. The thing is, had she brought him back because they were in a tight spot and it was the dodgy but practical option, one taken to ensure the best chance of survival, I could have admired the gumption inherent in the choice even if I didn't totally agree with it. But no, essentially it's all hormones and overwrought emotion and I-can't-live-in-a-world-without-him! stick. Fail, Anita. FAIL.

One point in the narrative did confuse me: the disconnect between immortality and invulnerability. This book's Big Bad Vampire was big and bad because she was after immortality - but didn't a previous book in the series have a vampire that was literally millions of years old? Seriously, you mad old trout: stop doing everything you can to paint a target on your big stupid forehead and maybe people won't go around trying to knock you off before you exit your first millennium. This is not difficult.

Beautifully written memoir from a Serbian poet. Although the author writes of her struggle with cancer, her coverage of the war in the former Yugoslavia, and her emigration to England, the bulk of this book concerns the lives of her family members - and her own life as an adolescent and young adult. Aside from the language, I particularly enjoyed the non-linear narrative. It's personal preference, of course, but I tend to find that structuring a story on emotion - and stitching up time and space and subject matter according to that emotion, not a strict temporal reading of events - very appealing.

I can't say that I've read a sea-going historical novel before, but this series is famous so I thought I'd give it a shot, in my efforts to branch out of my usual happy rut of sci-fi and fantasy. I enjoyed it well enough, though I could have done without the many extensive passages describing every tiny rope-twitch or sail-change or whatever. I'm sure many people find this detail fascinating, but all I could think was that if it were all cut out, the book would be half the length and scoot along that much quicker.

I have to say I warmed to Maturin more than Aubrey. Also, am quite sick of reading about doomed or drowning cats. Please stop that! It may be historical accuracy, but it makes me hate everyone.

Really quite interesting selection of short stories, though most (despite the title) aren't actually about robots. Many are naturally a little dated, but I always enjoy Susan Calvin, and the novelette "The Ugly Little Boy" is very affecting - my favourite, I think, of the bunch. Though it does strike me as being one of the dated stories, in the total lack of ethics shown by the experimenters. Not that all scientists are ethical today, but there is I think more of an expectation of it.

I read, recently, a collection of criticism by Judith Merril, who was writing columns on science fiction, I believe at the same time Asimov was writing these stories (1950s), and one of the things that stuck with me was her assertion that, even 20 years on or so, the human context and experience of science had changed enough to date science fiction written in the 1930s. There's more than one example of that here (Calvin destroying a dreaming robot, when today it would - hopefully - prompt discussions on preservation, artificial intelligence and what it means to be human would be another). Still, I suppose that cultural change adds, at times, another layer of interest to some of these stories, in that they're also records of attitudes that are, I trust, departing with due haste.

A nonsense rhyme that succeeds primarily because it is so ridiculous. Also inspired one of my very first literary attempts - my best friend and I, who must have been all of 8 or 9, wrote a fully rhyming, a la Lear, parody of this. If I recall correctly the owl drowned and the cat ate the pig.

We did not have the benefit of Gwen Fulton's gorgeous illustrations though, alas.

I've just rediscovered this wonderful little book hiding in the far corners of my bookshelf. It was one of my favourites when I was a kid, and I still think it's awesome! Mr. Plumbean and his (alright, it's pretty horrible) house show that there are things better than mindless conformity and the aesthetics of dullness.

One of the best picture books I've ever come across, and horribly suitable for adults as well. Sad and hopeful all at once, and I've rarely seen such a perfect match of text and illustration - I'm used to seeing Blake's illustrations in Dahl, but these are altogether a darker, more realistic set.

Absolutely, unreservedly recommended.

A truly wonderful picture book, one of my favourites. The story itself is very well done, but I think the real draw are the illustrations, which are marvelous. I spent a summer working in a pub in Cornwall, it must be near 15 years ago now, and I read this book for the first time then, while I was visiting Mousehole. It stayed with me ever since, and I finally got around to getting my own copy. Well worth it.

It's one of those picture books I'd never let an actual child read. Filthy little things, they'd ruin it. I'm all for literacy, but not when my lovely book ends up sticky and jam-smeared because of it.

There's a two year old in the house at the moment, being babysat, and she brought this with her. As soon as I saw it I remembered having my own copy as a child, and I loved it.

Naturally I stole the book while the kid was napping to reread it for myself. (Don't worry, I gave it back.) The illustrations are just as wonderful as I remember, and I think I enjoyed it as much now as I did then.