octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

Infuriating and heart-breaking. It's the story of Satrapi's childhood in revolutionary Iran, but Persepolis is not really for children. It's simply too brutal. The art itself is fairly simple, which in a story like this makes it even more affecting, I think. The story-telling itself is also excellent, skilfully striking a balance between the childish view of its protagonist and the adult perception of Satrapi's parents (and, by extension, the reader). The contrast between the two, and the way the difference between the two understandings narrows as Satrapi grows up, is horrifyingly effective.

A touching story of a child's memories of war-torn Beirut. Has a very powerful ending, which I won't give away. But my favourite part of this, by far, was the artwork. It's all in black and white, fairly solid shapes and geometries, and it's just fantastic. I'm trying to get into reading more graphic novels, and if they're all like this it's going to be a very rewarding effort!

Blish does his best as always, but the episodes of Star Trek he adapts in this volume are indifferent at best - I remember watching those episodes and being largely unmoved, so I'm disinclined to make him shoulder the blame here. "The Apple" is particularly dire, with its magic moving village (initially 17 kilometres distant, shifting to a few thousand metres away the next time they mention it). Both "The Savage Curtain" and "The Cloud Minders" had elements that I enjoyed when watching (Surak and Vanna, for instance) but one successful element does not a successful episode make, and the compelling gravitas of Surak doesn't really come across in the adaptation. I can't help but think that a sub-par episode might make an average novel, if that novel were allowed to really explore the issues at hand, but it doesn't make for particularly good short stories.

Really enjoyable post-apocalyptic novel that gets extra points from me for its refusal to engage in the most obnoxious (and nearly ubiquitous) trope of this genre: sexual assault to show how bad things are. Instead, attention is given to how communities come together in unfortunate circumstances, how choices are necessary in order to survive, and how those choices are often more to do with the survival of self-respect than they are with anything else. Also worth noting is the strong and continued emphasis on environmental degradation, and the skilful way that environmental apocalypse is folded in with social change is such a relief to read after coming across some similar stories that were far less intelligently thoughtful (The Silent Invasion, I am looking at you). Also the tone was very enjoyable - granted I'm a Kiwi and not an Aussie, but there's a real sense of familiarity in the way people talk in The Rain Never Came which is rare and entertaining.

There are a few nit-picky things - I'm not at all convinced by the junk walls, for instance, and the back-story of Bill's sister seems a little tired - but on the whole it's a really refreshing take on the whole post-apocalyptic scene.

Well-researched account of the disappearance of a fishing boat, lost with all hands, during one of the most destructive storms of the century. It's limited in a way, as Junger himself admits, because no-one knows, or will ever know, what really happened in the last few hours before the boat sank. He can only make surmises and try not to fictionalise what must have been a genuinely awful and heart-breaking end. Because of this central absence in the narrative, there's a lot of context built up around the story - what's happening to other boats stuck out on open water in the storm, for instance, and how various rescue attempts were taking place. And it's all interesting, but still... there is that absence, and it's a lot easier to be interested in the doomed ship than it is to be interested in paratrooper training or the history of sword-fishing or what have you.

Loooong, self-indulgent and repetitive rant that I expected to be far more interesting than it was. Phillips can create a turn of phrase well enough but she was in dire need of a decent editor. Basically I read this to tick off a task in the 2018 BookRiot Read Harder challenge, and I figured the reputation this book had for gossip and drama and sheer horrified fame might make for an entertaining read. It didn't, much, mostly because all the people in here seem so small and desperately unpleasant. In the end I'm left with the impression of a vast and shallow hell that ultimately verges on tedium. (No wonder these people did so many drugs, they all sound bored out of their tiny minds.)

I'm torn between shelving this as autobiography or memoir. Technically I suppose it's the former, as there's a small section on Phillips' childhood, but 98% of this giant tome is the time she spent in Hollywood, and it has the sort of highly styled and emotionally focused tone that I expect more from memoirs. Eh. Could be either, I reckon.

An anthology of fantasy stories themed around magic spells. Quite a range in tone here, from light-hearted fantasy to straight horror, which means there's something for everyone I guess. I certainly had a range of different reactions, and though overall I quite enjoyed it, most of the stories were pretty average really. Low points were the Greenberg (short and silly) and the Vance (long and dull). On the other hand, Leiber and Norton both had interesting, likeable stories, and the anthology's high point was the oldest story of them all: Arthur Conan Doyle's "Lot No. 249". I'm not usually one who finds mummy stories particularly creepy - too many B-grade movies of bandaged limbs jerking out of coffins - but this was genuinely horrifying.

Beautifully written - if rather lengthy - story that somehow feels shorter than it actually is. Perhaps because the voices are for the most part so convincing, or perhaps because the pacing is so finely judged, I don't know - but I've been hesitant to read this because it's 600 odd pages (a lifetime of reading fantasy has successfully turned me off the literary brick) and yet I'm so glad I finally did. Initially, I thought not giving the same attention to Nathan as to his wife and daughters was a mistake, because he can come off as a caricature at first glance, but it became unfortunately clear from the narrative that calling him a caricature is wishful thinking at best. Plenty of colonised communities must have suffered from any number of iterations of that grotesquely blinkered man; Kingsolver made the right choice by not highlighting his sort any further. The effects of his presence are horrible enough.

What I'm less convinced of is the tone of the second half of the book. The first half is I think the best - the failing mission seen through the eyes of the missionary's children - but once those children have escaped and grown up (the two events are nearly interchangeable) there's a slight whiff of soapbox creeping into the story. And I'm sympathetic to that perspective, but I was sympathetic to it before all this adult separation into illuminating types and I think something of the dense and vivid subtext of the first half is lost in the plain obviousness of the second. Even so it's an excellent and thought-provoking read.

Lovely story that bounces between a historical setting and the present day, in which an old woman recalls the love of her life. Separated as children, when Ichimei is sent with his family to the Japanese internment camps of WW2 America, they meet up again as adults. The relationship doesn't last, and they both go on to happy marriages with other people, but as they get older they find each other again and the ending is very sweet. Allende's prose is always a pleasure to read, light and easy, and while I don't generally read a lot of romance it's refreshing to see one that focuses on the elderly. I think it's fair to say this isn't as complex or as intellectual as some of her other books, but I don't see why an author can't branch out into different types of stories if she wants to, and this was such a warm sort of comfort read that I happily enjoyed it for what it was.

I'm just going to say it: I can't stand Toad. I really can't. When I read this book as a kid I hated him, when child-me sat through the movie I hated him, and, having just read the book again, some decades on from the first time, I still think he's an absolute waste of space. (The introduction to this edition seems to think he's based on Grahame's spoilt brat of a son. I shudder to think.)

HOWEVER. Mole and Rat and Badger are delightful, and the lovely depiction of life on a river bank is well worth reading. Grahame's prose, when describing the natural world, especially when focused on place, is really extremely good, and I got a wee chill when Mole and Rat met Pan. There's a lot to like here, and if I personally think this book would be improved by the early death by motorcar of its most irritating character, then I realise I'm probably the only one.