octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

Given that I'm reading these books primarily for the wonderful Dr. Maturin, this particular volume was not one of my favourites. He's a supporting character here, while the lion's share of the page space goes to the tedious Aubrey and the endless boring sea battles that go on and on and on. I doubt Aubrey will be pitched overboard and drowned any time soon, to sink like the millstone he is, but I can't help but think I find this series the more interesting the more Maturin is featured. And to be honest, four books in they're becoming a wee bit formulaic: Aubrey is in financial trouble onshore, he then wangles a command where, against all odds, he defeats a superior force, and is finally feted for it with dinners and prizes that he'll no doubt lose before the beginning of book 5 because he's just that financially incompetent. I can hardly wait. Please, Dr. Maturin, if I pick up the next volume, be more present in it.

Not quite as good as Jackaroo, the first in the series, but still a decent read. The step down is I think because of the protagonist Birle, who while likeable enough (I enjoyed her determination and hard work and honesty) seemed to fall in instalove with Orien and moon over him for ages for no good reason I could see. I mean he was mildly pleasant, but when the book seemed to end with her getting over him to live her own life I was genuinely pleased. The romance was the least convincing part of the story is what I'm saying. On the other hand, the relationship I really did enjoy was between Birle and her stepmum, with the wicked stepmother not wicked at all, but determined to protect her young daughter from her own foolish choices. More of that, please!

I'm honestly not quite sure what to make of this. The prose is unambiguously good: vivid and subtle and direct all at once, and there are frequently turns of phrase that made me stop reading just so I could read them again. The subject matter is fairly confronting - a group of teenage boys focused almost entirely on drugs and sex (and sometimes art) and one of them gets involved with a pair of sadists and there's actual shit-eating until his arse is literally sliced up, but he's so high on drugs that it barely seems to register. As challenging as the subject matter is, it's still fairly dramatic and I should be riveted (even given the cynical nothing-matters tone)... but I'm not. It's a bit like watching a slow motion model train wreck after a few glasses of wine: all disintegrating, fascinating style to tart up substance.

Enjoyable collection of short stories, each of which covers one of seven episodes from the original Star Trek. The stories themselves are relatively superficial but they're still fun to read, especially if you can picture the episode as you're reading. Of the seven stories here, it's "Miri" that stands out the most, being both creepy and McCoy-heavy, both of which are things I enjoy.

Really interesting and extremely well-researched read, if one that dragged very occasionally in places. I dunno, there's something slightly unsavoury in rating this for entertainment value, given that the book only exists because an innocent family died horrible, violent deaths. And yet it is compelling, albeit not in a shock-horror way, as Capote carefully and thoughtfully traces the perpetration and investigation of the crime, and gives a memorable, well-rounded portrait of the killers. I don't know that I'd call it a sympathetic portrait exactly (it was the victims who got that, and deservedly so), but it seems that the two murderers did raise sympathy of a sort in a small number of individuals. Can't say that they particularly raised any in me though.

A thoughtful and accomplished retelling from Walton, continuing her interpretation of the Mabinogion. I'm not hugely familiar with Welsh mythology though I have a vague and excessively superficial understanding of the main players, but one doesn't need prior knowledge to understand what's going on here. A young and well-meaning king makes a mistake that dooms his land to emptiness (all the inhabitants being turned to butterflies or dragonflies or somesuch) and it's up to his long-suffering stepfather - who's not actually a stepfather - to out-think the otherworldly force behind all this trouble. It's an enjoyable read, simply and quietly told, with the odd moment that really gleams (usually in the characterisation), but I feel more admiration than emotional connection.

It's an odd experience reading a book when you're frustrated by so many of the characters. I read this, largely enjoying it, but all the time, at the back of my mind, I was thinking "Just kill the bad seed already before he screws it up for all of you!" Do they? No, but everyone else seems to be fair game for violent death. Does it all turn to custard? Yes, of course! A little bit of good judgement could have saved everyone a lot of trouble, is all I'm saying. I mean honestly - did none of them see it coming? Yeah, I know it's a story based on a mythology and so the author's somewhat limited in where she can go, but even so.

I can see the book's very competently written, but it didn't grab me enough to rush out and find the rest of the series, though I'm sure I'll get to them eventually.

This must be one of my new favourite reads. I used to do a bit of tramping but I've gotten out of the habit of it the last few years, and having (finally) slogged my way through the near 1000 pages of this book I'm excited to start again. My imagination is fired up and I'm ready to walk!

I think my favourite thing about it is just how very unachievable it all is. If this were 50 Walks You Must Experience Before You Die, or even 100 Walks, there's a chance that I'd first feel challenged, and then burdened, by the genuine possibility of doing them all. Those are achievable numbers - ambitious, but achievable. With 1001, however, there's no chance... and that's an extraordinarily freeing thing. It means I get to pick and choose the tramps that appeal to me most without guilt, so Hell No, Chinese Plank Walk. (Seriously, I feel sick just looking at it.) Luckily, there's literally hundreds of options that are far, far more tempting...

I think squirrels are adorable animals. They don't live in New Zealand, so whenever I'm in a country that has them I end up watching them skittering around the trees and parks, absolutely charmed. When I convey that charm to those around me, there are generally disapproving noises and grumbles of "pests" so I can only imagine they hold possum status for people who have to deal with them on a regular basis, but nonetheless I am charmed and the same holds true here. Don't get me wrong, Squirrel Nutkin is a nuisance pest who deserves the terrible thing that happens to him (I would have done it sooner, were I the owl), but this isn't a book I read for plot. It has, I think, the best Potter illustrations of the bunch, and every single little red squirrel she drew is just plain wonderful.

I read Stiefvater's The Scorpio Races last year and it was astonishingly good, so I had high hopes for this. It didn't match up. For the first two thirds or so of the book I was honestly a little bored, but once the story hit the Latin-speaking trees it started to hold my attention more. And the idea behind The Raven Boys is interesting enough, if it doesn't quite light me on fire, but I think most of that general indifference came from the characters. Noah was so barely drawn he was clearly a redshirt from the get-go (though credit is due, I didn't foresee just how he earned that status). I did like Blue and Adam, and I wish the story had been about them entirely, because both Gansey and Ronan were two of the most ridiculous characters I've come across in quite some time - and not in a good way. I didn't believe in either of them for a single second. Unfortunately it seems like Gansey is the fated love interest here, and to be frank that's really undermining my interest in reading further.