octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

Genuinely disturbing little story, wherein Coraline's world turns to the dark side. Her other mother has button eyes, a needle, and a yen for a daughter who shares that particular characteristic. She may also be hungry. Her other father, far from being sacrificial wasp-meat, is more like sad and murderous play-dough, but worst of all are the nasty little rats with their creepy, creepy rhymes.

(I knew I had good reason to hate rats.)

It is all extremely horrible. Naturally I was delighted.

I read and reviewed the three books making up this trilogy separately, so this is just a note for my own records. The four stars for the collection is an average of the three individual ratings (very consistent, four stars each for To the Is Land, An Angel at My Table, and The Envoy from Mirror City).

As a whole, it's really a very interesting autobiography. I remember reading it back in high school, but most of the details had escaped me so it was like coming back to it new. I'll certainly be reading more of Frame in future!

Quick easy read, a bit insubstantial but like popcorn in that you just keep gobbling. It was nicely paced, zipping along at a good clip. Most enjoyable part was I think the main character. I genuinely liked Sookie, which I wasn't expecting (largely because on the very first page she starts describing her appearance and that's a particular writing turn-off for me). But she's likeable and kind and has good relationships with other women. She's not particularly well-educated but is still intelligent, and I enjoyed her domestic streak - it certainly makes a pleasant change from the urban fantasy protagonists who are all too frequently (and boringly) sarcastic violent workaholics with no mates.

Unfortunately I am entirely indifferent to Bill. Honestly, by the time he turned up again at the end, at Sookie's hospital bed, I'd pretty much forgotten he existed. I just don't care one way or the other about him, which seems a problem in a romance.

The strength of this book lies in the ending, I think. As a whole, it's not my favourite Discworld book - I like Death, but not as much as other people seem to, and there are times when the story seems just a little muddled. But the idea of belief changing, of the subsequent mythological creation and destruction, and most especially of the need to prep kids with little lies so they'll more easily believe the big ones, is excellent. Death's explanation at the end is extraordinary - if only the oh god of hangovers and Violet and Teatime had lived up to that level of writing. As it is, character-wise I have to content myself with Susan, who I really do genuinely enjoy.

So, Murray Ball - he of the cartoons of my childhood - died today. My first instinct was to go pull this down off the shelf. It is fantastic in every respect: funny and touching and the illustrations (for once in brilliant colour) are outstanding.

A man who loved his dog, indeed.

This is an excellent novel, if a depressingly horrible one - horrible as in it looks, pretty unflinchingly, at the compromises we will make with ourselves to endure. Dana has to do what she does, I can't think of any way around that (and I've tried!) but the appalling nature of the bargains forced on her - especially that to do with Alice - is terribly, compulsively readable.

I suppose that Kindred also says something about how existing on either side of slavery can warp an individual. Rufus as a small child was decent enough, but foist all that power on him and decency doesn't last long. I should feel sorry for what it made him, perhaps, but really he's the most hateful character I've read in quite some time... he evoked a genuine loathing in me.

This is the first book of Butler's I've ever read. It won't be the last.

Dick and Sally are alone in the house on a dreary day, and lack the imagination to make the most of it. In their place I'd be reading and happy, and the unwelcome intrusion of a noisy, attention-whore moggy and the horrible off-putting bounciness of Thing One and Thing Two would drive me to justifiable homicide, but these disappointing, passive little children do nothing. The fish has more personality. It's like a nightmare come to life.

I did like the rhymes though.

Interesting enough read, well-written if (much) less shocking today than the introduction claims that it was at the time of publication. I did admire the total lack of sugar-coating, but it was hard for me to connect with any of the characters. I felt as if, by reading, I were rewarding their poor choices with attention - and the three women at the centre of this book are all so desperate for attention that they'll pretty much do anything for it. Well, I was moderately entertained by them, and now the book is over I have no desire to spend another thought on them.

I suspect that may have been the author's intention.

I've read this for the first time, and was really impressed with parts of it. I especially enjoyed how this peaceful (albeit sterile) society was slowly revealed to be just another form of horrifying dystopia, but I wish that some details had been thought through a little more. Why is sunshine such a new memory, for example? These people aren't nocturnal, as far as I can tell. They go outside. Social mores may have changed but they haven't - and can't - affect the physical structure of the solar system. And how do people stop seeing colour, or hearing music? I also found it difficult to fathom how people could form the emotional bonds of close friendship, such as that between Jacob and Asher, but still be essentially indifferent to the bonds formed in the nuclear family (apparently once the kids reach their majority, the parents go off to live with the other Childless Adults and no-one bothers with each other ever again).

The psychology of fascism is so interestingly explored here. I just wish that it wasn't the only thing explored, because the world itself is so unconvincing that I find it hard to give it any credence.

Charming little story; the illustrations are fabulous. The cat's continuing love for the milkman (cupboard love right there) is hilarious, but I expect if I lived with a family who thought it was better to chuck my beloved blanket instead of just washing the thing, I'd be looking outside the house for a favourite human too.