octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

"A housekeeping droid isn't like having a wife." Ugh. When I say that this is the least irritating of the trilogy, I trust you can draw your own conclusions. Why these authors think anyone, children or otherwise, is chomping at the bit to read about Han Solo, home owner, is beyond me. The problems of keeping a smog-free house! How will that stain ever be shifted?! It's too much excitement for me.

The twelve year old nuisance is still a twelve year old nuisance, but the main characters are barely recognisable. Better not keep serving Corellian cuisine at your house parties, Han. Leia doesn't care for it... it's just too fattening.

God help me, I read and reviewed each of the three books collected here separately, so this is basically just for my own records. Each volume earned a single star, and that was frankly generous. They are dire. Remember that scene in Return of the Jedi where Salacious Crumb was ripping out C-3PO's eye? The droid got off lucky. He could have been reading this instead.

It's always interesting when reading a book with two authors - I'm continually trying to see where the style of one meets the other. That's something which is somewhat easier here, as some of the poems are by Addison, and some are by Manzetti, and some are by both of them together. As a whole, the collection is heavily influenced by other artists - composers and painters and writers - so there's that stylistic layer as well, especially considering that some of the poems are inspired by other works, or are responses to them. An example would be one of my favourites, "When You Forget Me," by Addison, which a little note says was inspired by Neruda's "If You Forget Me." On balance, I think I prefer Addison's contributions. Although there's some blurring, her poems tend to use the plainer language and that appeals to me more. By far the best poem here, though, is a collaboration. "The Yellow House" folds in Vincent Van Gogh and his artwork. I do enjoy Van Gogh, and so bouncing between the imagery of the poem and the recollection of the painting gave this an extra level of interest.

On a different note, while I love the cover for this collection, the font used for the poem titles could be quite difficult for me to read. When it comes to font, as far as I'm concerned it's the plainer the better.

While this was an excellent read, it didn't hit me as hard as the first volume. It's very much in two parts: Satrapi's adolescent experiences living on her own in Europe, and then her return to Iran. In both cases it's a story of dislocation, as she has trouble fitting in to a new culture, and doesn't realise, until she has returned, just how much she has assimilated to that culture without realising it. It's homesickness all the way, and alienation, and while we'd all like to think that in similar circumstances we'd rise above, truthfully I think Satrapi's own reaction is the more likely one. Depression, indecision, and an inability to move forward are really understandable responses, but she does work through it all eventually. The most appealing thing, as last time, is the sense of humour that leavens all this dim misery. It can't have felt very funny at the time, but looking back she manages to make it so.

I can't help but hope, though, that the nasty old woman who lost her brooch reads this book and sees herself. And that the man Satrapi has hauled away by the morality police is alright, because it looks like the poor bastard didn't do anything and she dobbed him in to save herself. Granny's temporary disapproval of her actions doesn't really cut it.

I read and reviewed the two volumes collected here separately, so this is basically just for my own records. The rating is an average, rounding up: the first volume earned five stars from me, being exceptional in every way. The second volume wasn't quite as affecting, and I gave it four stars. The latter was focused on Satrapi's reaction to being sent away as an adolescent to live in a foreign country. She ended up isolated and directionless, which is completely understandable but could be a little repetitive to read, and overall was less varied in its emotions I think. Both volumes, though, excel for their simple but extremely effective artwork, and for the sense of humour that runs through what are often very bleak circumstances.

A very wordy, very whiny arsehole stabs his walking, talking conscience. That's about the sum of it, and really this is more two and a half stars rounding up to three. It does get a bit creepy as the story goes on (after an excruciatingly slow start, see: "very wordy") but really the protagonist deserves all he gets and I do not feel for him in the slightest. I mean, the idea of a doppelganger is one that I always find interesting in literature - I suspect I'd be rather less enamoured in real life - and it's the doppelganger aspect of this that's most disturbing. Poe undercuts all that creepiness by having the doppelganger be the decent party, however, and though I've read this story multiple times over the years, I still don't know if I find that choice effective or not.

A widowed robotics genius brings home his latest creation, hoping her interaction with his troubled kids will help them all, but - as is so frequently the case in these stories - Josie quickly moves beyond her programming in order to become something else. There's a lot of history in stories like this, and the basic tropes aren't always interrogated as well as they might be, but there's a real sense of wry humour in here that's genuinely appealing. And whoever designed the book deserves an awful lot of credit - the playfulness of the font changes and all the internal illustrations and page backdrops work enormously well. The whole thing is a pleasure to look at.

I feel a little bit bad shelving this under "feminism," but that shelf should honestly include toxic examples of the same, so there it goes.

This is not good. I came across it because, in an effort to expand my reading, I pick random Goodreads lists and work my way through them. The title wasn't terribly appealing, but the book was very short and also free so I thought I'd give it a whirl. It is, from the get-go, poorly reasoned and prone to gross generalisations and cherry-picking. It's logical fallacy central. Let me give an example. In the section arguing that women are intellectually stronger than men, Sona bases her argument on two factors only: that women are better listeners and they have better memories. Neither of these points are referenced in any way - there's not a single claim here that is referenced - but really... that's it? Intellectual strength is characterised solely by memory and listening capability? No mention of linguistic ability, spatial ability, creativity, the flawed history of intelligence tests, or any of the many other aspects of intelligence? Colour me unconvinced.

The thesis is badly reasoned, unsupported by objective evidence, and an enormous amount of focus is given to the opinion that men are sex-crazed beasts who will do and say anything to get a woman into bed. Make of that what you will.

On top of this, the whole thing is just poorly written. The author admits as much in the conclusion. The less said about that admission the better. I will end on a pet peeve, however. If you're going to use words such as "bitch" and "whore", actually use them and don't going swapping vowels for asterisks in an attempt to indicate delicacy. I've know twelve year olds who stand behind their word choices more.

I used to have a bunch of Little Golden Books when I was a kid. I don't have them any more, but I came across this one recently and it was delightful. The illustrations are bright and colourful, but what I like best is the absolute delight the book takes in chomping down on the gingerbread man. There he is, baked into sentience, running away from a whole host of people and animals who want to eat him, and he's outwitted by a fox (who looks both stoned and demented) and gobbled up anyway. And no-one feels bad because gingerbread men are made to be eaten, so there.

Which is kind of mean, under the circumstances, but also kind of hilarious. That's what you get for running away, biscuit: a near drowning and certain death.

This is so much fun! A little girl goes to the beach with her mums, and keeps being horrified by sea life that has the temerity to brush up against her. No, not sharks or anything like that - seaweeds and mangrove seeds and tiny crabs, that sort of thing. Admittedly, the central character's a bit of a cowardy custard, but it's a good way to teach young kids to be fascinated by things that live in the sea rather than to be afraid of them. The illustrations are lovely too.