octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

I read and reviewed each of the six issues collected here separately, so this is basically just for my own records. In short: I'm going to have to get my own copy of this to keep, because I got this from the library and I want my own. I love Frankenstein, so I'm always willing to read any interpretations of it, and Destroyer - which reimagines Victor as Dr. Josephine Baker, who rebuilds her twelve year old son Akai after he is shot to death by police in an instance of racial violence - is fantastic. It's so good, and Josephine and Akai are drawn so strongly, that I genuinely don't care about the original monster when it turns up. It does so, periodically, and I almost wished that it would go away so that the focus would remain strongly on that mother-son relationship.

There are so many elements here that work so well: that focus on police (and societal) violence against Black kids, the twist as to the identity and function of the Bride, who benefits from ignorance, the really excellent art... I want my own copy. I do. 

Normally when I give a story five stars, it's because I think it's outstanding and - not to put too fine a point on it - because I think there's nothing wrong with it. No points where I say to myself "I wish this had been different". That's not the case here. I continue to be uninterested in the original creature, and the death and partial assimilation of Akai's parents leaves me cold. HOWEVER. Josephine's motivations, and her explanation of these motivations, is just done so damn well that it overshadows everything else here for me. She's so absolutely sympathetic in her rage that I find myself rooting for her regardless: she's the driving force of this series, and just a fantastic character. 

I honestly quite like that it isn't love and acceptance that gets the guillotine-building brat from next door to change his ways. It's nearly getting torn apart by dogs. And, you know what? He deserved it. Natural consequences and all, but I still think Madeline should have locked him in a cellar. I suppose he did improve, but the "pride and joy" line at the end irked me enough to knock this down to three stars. 

This is fascinating and the artwork is incredible. I have so many questions as to what's going on here, and I'm completely hooked.

There's something absolutely horrific about the fantasy here, what with the consumption of and experimentation on the not-quite-human. Much simplified, it seems like a war between fairies and witches, with the witches taking on the role of the Inquisition, which is a nice twist. I think that, as a summary, this is a simplification, as this is only the first issue and so many elements are just being teased at here, but there's clearly been a great deal of thought gone into the worldbuilding. I am not, always, the greatest fan of worldbuilding, as far too often it takes over the story, to my mind, but the story here is very obviously paramount so I'm free to enjoy all the elements without feeling as if narrative has been taken over by encyclopaedia. It's been very, very finely judged is what I'm saying. 

I read the first Madeline book some time back and didn't much care for it, so I didn't have many hopes for this, but I was wrong. It was charming. Some of the rhymes did seem a bit strained, still, but VEN-GE-ANCE for Genevieve the dog assured my liking, and indeed she did get some in the end. 

The weird yellow illustrations are growing on me too. 

I never thought I'd come across a retelling of Frankenstein where I ended up losing interest in the creature, but that's what's happened here. To be clear: it's not because the creature's storyline is uninteresting... although it may have become so by comparison, because the rest of the story is just so good that I end up being a little disappointed whenever it shifts back to the creature. Akai and his parents are so compelling to me - especially the development of the Destroyer - that I'd have been happy if there was nothing else in the issue but them. The creature itself, and the research facility storyline, end up seeming like distractions from that central family.

Necessary distractions, I'm sure, but the emotional heart of this series is firmly placed elsewhere: it's not the creature and his endless daddy issues, it's sweet little Akai. 

I have to admit, it took me a bit longer to get into The Night Masquerade than the two previous books in this series. I couldn't seem to connect with it until the surprising death (no further details, I don't want to spoil it) but then it all kicked in for me and I was riveted. Okorafor's main strength, for me, has always been her ability to really evoke that sense of wonder that science fiction - good science fiction - can do so well, and the second half of this book was all about marvel and wonder. I particularly enjoyed New Fish, and I'm a little sad that it's all over now - there's such wonderful world-building here, but there's also a satisfying conclusion so it seems a natural place to stop. 

This is a very earnest little book encouraging young children to explore their neighbourhoods and observe the animals that live in them - mostly birds, insects, and rodents. I have to admit that as I read, I thought it sounded very much like a lesson plan, with a teacher giving instructions on what to do in short, instructive sentences. It's a series of orders, basically. Come the end of the book, and the author section on the back flap says that Simon is a science teacher - it shows. 

The illustrations are very well done, but I do wish that they were in colour. I'm not sure that black and white is the best way to get the attention of little kids... it may well underline the schoolbook vibe that's going on here, I think. 

I can't believe I've found this! I read it several times when I was a kid, and for decades I've had this faint memory of a story where a little girl counts the number of white horses she sees. I couldn't remember why she was doing it (getting to a hundred means you find something lucky, apparently) and I couldn't even remember anything else about the book, but I still had that vague recollection that never left. And here it is!

It's a very simple little story, and the main character Ellen is kind and relatable and fond of chocolate cake. I can't say that it's particularly surprising in the way it plays out, and it might only have got three stars from me if I didn't have that childhood memory associated with it (and if I weren't so happy to have found it again) but honestly, if even some of it stuck in the recesses of my brain for that long, it deserves the extra star. 

Lucky, lucky white horse, ding, ding, ding. 

Fleur Adcock has been an enormous presence in the New Zealand poetry world; sadly she died earlier this year, not too long ago actually, and in response I picked up a copy of one of her last poetry collections from the library. A memorial read, as it were. She started writing the poems in this book when she was in her early eighties, which makes me happy, and they are gentle, lucid, lovely examples of looking back, many of them, interspersed with birds and travel. I'd like a copy of this myself, I think - mostly for one of the longer poems in the collection, "The Teacher's Wife", which is simultaneously about Adcock's mother, the isolation of island life, and the temptation of drowning (drowning does loom large in the NZ literary canon, so it was quietly amusing to see it pop up here as well).