octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

I was all set to give this three stars, finding it as generally likeable as the other two in the series, until I came to a point about two-thirds of the way through the book. More on that in a moment. Where Arrow's Fall is a little stronger than the other books is that finally, all that set-up has paid off. The first two books often seemed like prolonged introductions, whereas here the war with the neighbouring country kicked off (and ended), the dodgy council members were unearthed, and the romantic subplot between Talia and Dirk came to a happy conclusion. HOWEVER. The most appealing parts of these books for me has always been the main character, who is unabashedly decent - as is, to be fair, pretty much everyone who works with her. In many ways that fundamental gentleness the characters show each other underlines more than anything else the young adult nature of the books. So when that young adult protagonist was gang-raped, it turned me right off. It's just so unnecessary. The whole torture scene, unpleasant as it was, would have been enough to put her out of action in the way that happens here. The sexual assault added nothing but a gratuitous edge to a series that was getting on very well without it. Fucking shame.

I read and reviewed all three of the books collected here separately, so this is basically for my own records. The rating is an average of the individual ratings - both Arrows of the Queen and Arrow's Flight earned three stars from me. They were likeable young adult fantasy with an emphasis on kindness and a great protagonist. That being said, they often meandered a little too much and together, they read like an extended introduction to the trilogy as a whole. That flaw was fixed in the final volume, Arrow's Fall, which had a number of enjoyable things about it... until the gang rape of the protagonist, an event handled so poorly within the novel that honestly, it spoiled all my enjoyment not only of it, but of the series as a whole. Two stars for that one, and that's being generous. The first two volumes might be worth rereads again one day, but I'll not be bothering with the last again.

Three and a half stars, rounding up to four. There are some lovely poems in here - most of the ones that spoke to me most were in the final section, "The Healing". I think my very favourite was a short little poem - and the majority of the poems in here are very short - of about five lines, which compares the body to a museum of natural disasters. There's something so extraordinary about that image, something surprising and wonderful... I just really loved it.

The reason the collection doesn't get a solid four stars from me is that I sort of bounced off the third section - "The Breaking" - about the dissolution of a romantic relationship. It went on a lot longer than the others, and was more repetitive. And I understand that this is something absolutely true to life - recovery from a break-up isn't and never has been linear. But you know how when a mate breaks up with their partner? It's easy to be sympathetic and you want to help them, but in some cases it drags on and on and you just want them to move the fuck on already so you don't have to hear them moan anymore. That's what I felt. Which makes me unsympathetic and unkind, but still. I don't see the point in fantasising about how the girlfriends that come after you will never match up to you, because, you know, some of them will. And that's alright. There's only so much autopsy of misery I can take before it strikes me as self-indulgent, is what I'm saying. So, not the third section. But the others, particularly the last, were lovely.

Jellyfish in space! I really enjoyed this, and not only because it was full of gore and sea creatures. I liked how it explored the problem of museums and stolen body parts, because this is an ongoing issue in our world and one that needs resolving as soon as humanly possible (but that won't be, I'm sure). I also liked the young heroine who, running away from home to go to an interstellar university, must use the traditions of her people to survive and negotiate a very different, and literally alien, culture. I do wonder if it isn't in some places all resolved a little too quickly and easily for my particular taste -is the mass murder of a shipload of young students just handwaved away? - but then again this is a novella so the author is limited by form. Where she has exploited that form particularly well, however, is in the imagery and sense of wonder, which are both concentrated down to produce vivid and extraordinary bursts of the marvelous.

The most interesting thing about this book is the ongoing off-page conflict between the people represented, their lawyers, and the writer. There's actually been a court case about this not-very-well-written book, as the people involved engage in bunfights regarding just how much this is based on a true story. Whether it's a hoax, or an exaggeration, or (unlikely) a bastion of journalistic integrity is up for grabs, though my feeling tends towards the first two, with a strong leaning towards hoax. It's undoubtedly true that the DeFeo family who lived in the house were murdered, horribly, and I can understand how the next family might be creeped out and convince themselves that something supernaturally dodgy was going on. Furthermore, I can really understand why an author would advertise this as a "true story" because look how many punters that claim has brought in! All the sequels, all those awful movies...

It's mildly creepy. The pig thing, I do admit, is suitably weird. And the dog doesn't die, so there's that. Otherwise, if you're looking for haunted house stories there are a lot better ones out there, that don't need to rely on claims of authenticity to be effective.

This was surprisingly interesting. "Surprisingly" does sound bad though, doesn't it? I think a better description is that I didn't get what I was expecting. This isn't so much a complete biography as it is a limited one. The focus is ruthlessly on the last two decades of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis' life, when she worked as a publisher first at Viking and then at Doubleday in New York. There is vanishingly little here about her marriages or early life, and a great deal about her relationships with books and reading. Which, frankly, interests me far more. (I'm reading my way through a list of biographies right now, hence the lukewarm enthusiasm for what I thought would be a typical example of someone I was only very mildly interested in.)

Kuhn structures this book in an extremely well thought out way. Each chapter is based around a group of books that JKO edited, and they are linked by theme rather than chronology. Such themes include, for instance, French history, photography, historical fiction, costumes, political biographies and so on. Each book within that theme is approached through the lens of JKO's particular interests. Her fascination with French royalty, for example, is compared and contrasted with her experiences of being part of the political and social elite in America. Her interest in costumes is interpreted through her own experiences of fashion. Which makes this a very non-linear book, but nonetheless an extremely comprehensive one that left me with much more of a sense of intellectual character than I expected. I'm glad I read it.

This collection is based on the idea that grief at the loss of a loved one can be a genuinely horrifying and destabilising experience. Which is not wrong, of course - the central death in the book is cancerous, with mentions of chemotherapy here and there, and I imagine there are very few people who have watched someone they love die of cancer and not considered it monstrous. That being said, I felt the collection was a little uneven.

The most successful of the poems, it seems to me, were the ones most based in a twisted sort of realism. Poems like "Government Rules for War Widows" and "The Last Words of a Lovely Lady," both of which address the idea that there's a set time limit for grief, and society will look down on you if you wallow too long, are painfully excellent. There's also one deeply creepy little poem, "Misty was an Ugly Doll," about a girl's relationship with her mother, expressed through the hair styles of daughters and dolls, which was very good indeed. When you've got material like this, you don't need to go overboard with the fantastic in your imagery, I think, and the poems that did that just didn't appeal to me. "The Departed Come and Go," for instance, with its witch and spider crabs and necromancers and swarming wasps... I found it far less affecting, and far less disturbing, than the more restrained poems.

Three and a half stars, rounding up to four. This is another book from the Goodreads list of biographies I'm slowly working my way through. I knew very little about Sotomayor before beginning, and my knowledge of the US Supreme Court was hardly greater. It remains vanishingly small because this memoir cuts off two decades before the time of writing. Sotomayor covers her childhood, student experiences, and working life as a young woman, and the book ends as she is made a district court judge. On the one hand I can understand this - as a judge, and ultimately as a member of the Supreme Court, I expect discretion is the better part of valour. On the other hand, it would have been interesting to read a book about the experiences of a judge; I've never read one before.

Admittedly, I found the first half of the book - Sotomayor's experiences as a child and adolescent - much more enjoyable to read. With the best will in the world, the practice of law does not rivet my attention, and though the second half of the book was likeable enough, for me it lacked the immediacy and appeal of the first half. I'm left feeling very glad I never went to law school, as - Sotomayor's happy experiences there aside - it sounds phenomenally tedious. Still, it takes all sorts, and perhaps she wouldn't be any happier in a lab than I would be in a court room.

Decently likeable hero fantasy wherein a troubled 12 year old boy finds out he's the son of Poseidon and there's a whole world of kids like him, half-blood offspring of Greek gods hanging out at a summer camp. In one sense it's very much a basic wish fulfillment fantasy, as Percy has adventures and comes out a hero who is Very Important Indeed, and it does that well enough, with an irreverent tone designed to appeal to kids that age. I do like his relationship with his mum, and that she's saved from fridging somewhat, and I like his relationships with his friends, but decently likeable is about as far as it goes for me. It's a fun popcorn read, but doesn't grab me on any deeper level. The Ares kids, in particular, seem very superficially drawn... perhaps that's explored a little more in later books, which admittedly I'll probably read.

I remember seeing the movie a few years back with a mate, and the characters had been aged up significantly. The change is notable - I wonder why? To appeal more to a young adult audience, I expect.

I've really enjoyed the historical romances by Tessa Dare that I've read recently, so thought I'd try something else in the same vein, by a different author. What a disappointment. The "hero", and I use the term loosely, is an awful person. Cruel, irresponsible, hypocritical, and deeply, profoundly selfish... that the heroine, who initially seemed to have some actual gumption, fell for him so easily and overlooked everything he'd ever done to her - well, I thought less of her because of it. I don't care how much he whinges about his unhappy childhood, he's horrible. I really hate that Julia argues that she is equally responsible for their problems come the end, because it wasn't her that abandoned her sixteen year old bride for eight years, and had she not acted she would have been out-of-sight, out-of-mind for the rest of her life, trapped in an abusive marriage (because that's what this is), increasingly impoverished, and increasingly vulnerable. This is absolutely brushed over within the text.

In my quest to read more romance this year, I've come across the awful factor quite a lot. (Not in Tessa Dare, fortunately, who in my experience - granted, I've only read two books of hers - takes the astonishingly radical step of having actually likeable protagonists.) I get that there are restrictions in the genre, that the structure of romance means that obstacles to the happy ending must be created and overcome, but why, in my admittedly limited exposure to romance, are so many of these obstacles down to the hero or heroine being genuinely awful people? I don't care if awful people are happy! And Nick, the "hero" here, is awful.