octavia_cade's Reviews (2.64k)

Sometimes when I read Lovecraft's short work, I end up thinking that there's a germ of a decent story there... and if someone (not Lovecraft) were to write a story about how an academically-minded person goes bad and builds up a secret network of cultists and child abductors with a supernatural underpinning then I'd want to read it. Here, however, that story is weighted down with racism and waffle and endless historical references that do nothing but contribute to the bloat. I like the cop main character, who somehow moves a little beyond stereotype, and I thoroughly dislike the antagonist Suydam, but then I am meant to and so I'm happy with my dislike there. It's just the rest that consistently smothers it. 

As with most of Lovecraft, I do think this is desperately overwritten - the man wouldn't recognise restraint if it surged out of a grave and bit him. That being said, this is still relatively creepy, and the short length mitigates the worst of the excess. There's also the fact that it's about two awful people getting their just deserts, and I do appreciate that. As well as the bats. Bats improve most stories... bats and the dim howling of a distant hound meant that I liked this more than normal, considering who the author is. 

Oh, this is super cute, in a really morbid and disgusting way. Grey takes a shortcut through the cemetery on his way to school, and accidentally meets a ghoul called Lavinia. She's kind of a wee bit stalkery at first, leaving creepy gifts in his room, but the two kids become friends, which is something absolutely forbidden by ghoul society. When Grey's friend Marshall, also in on the secret, gets kidnapped by the other ghouls, Grey and Lavinia must team up to save him.

This is a middle grade graphic novel, but I have to admit that I was surprised how dark it could be. There are moments of real horror here, but it's also sweet and funny. I cackled when Lavinia - who looks very much like Gollum - is given a red hoodie and told to wear it as a disguise. (Imagine Gollum in a hoodie and the affronted, disgusted expression he'd have.) She slouches along in it like a cat stuffed into a doll's dress, and it's hilarious. It's very much a coming-of-age story between two very different individuals who learn to appreciate each other for what they are, and while boy and ghoul are separated at the end, it's perfectly set up for a sequel. I understand that one exists, so there's more undead shenanigans to come! I very much want to read it. 

I keep trying with this guy, I do, but I can't seem to get on with him. Every so often I read something by him, because Lovecraft is a giant in the field and I want to be well-read, but it's the same nearly every time. I find him histrionic and over-written. In this story, he's also repetitive. Admittedly, that's not his fault: "Herbert West" was originally written as a six-part serial, so repeated recapping is only to be expected.

On the bright side, there are some disturbing scenes. They remain disturbing even as the science (or what passes for it) become steadily more ridiculous, and it's clear to me how much sheer common sense Mary Shelley showed in passing so lightly over Frankenstein's actual experiments. Inspired by frogs' legs she might have been, but not to the total undermining of narrative. Lovecraft could have taken not, but still: disturbing. I got the odd chill.

However - and it's always however with me and Lovecraft - his ongoing tendency to throw everything at the wall stretches my disbelief to breaking point. His stories are so desperately overburdened with clutter that I tend to come away with impressions of muddle rather than mystery, and his deeply irritating reliance on fires or explosive shells or what have you to shut down scenes he doesn't want to continue does not for interesting stories make. Worse, the characterisation here is just plain inadequate - the narrator, especially, is a big bland blank. Why is he always so passive? Does he have no moral centre of his own? Who can tell?

There's a potentially good story here that's struggling to get out. Unfortunately it's buried under great swathes of bullshit. 

Most of this short story was genuinely creepy, which is something I don't often feel about Lovecraft's work. The depiction of that old bigot, increasingly sympathetic to, and taking on the characteristics of, the distant peoples he was obsessing over, is disturbing. (Ironic, too, given that's how I often picture Lovecraft himself, whipped up into a frenzy over all the things that scared him.) I might have given it three stars just for that. However, the ending is terrible. It's a total cop-out. I don't know what old H.P.'s intentions were, but it reads to me as if he ran out of ideas and didn't know how to end the story and so just gave up. 

What a waste of that effective characterisation. 

"See if you can read a paragraph without laughing out loud!" So says the back cover, anyway. Reader, I did not laugh. I think I managed one breathy half-chuckle in the whole collection. Granted, humour is subjective and all that, and this did rise to very mildly amusing, but that's about all. It's a collection of short essays from the seventies, which originated as newspaper columns I think, and I will say that they're all very good-natured. Bombeck writes almost entirely about life with her family, the small frustrations of kids and dirty laundry and husbands who do not listen, and the genuine affection is clear throughout. It's a quick, easy read... but it's not that funny. 

I admit... I've never been a fan of Lois Lane. Not that I had anything against her specifically, it's just that I've never been a fan of Superman (I find him only marginally more interesting than Spiderman, damning with faint praise) and Lois sort of got tossed in the disinterest bin with him. Yet, despite the fact that I've read none of the comics, or seen none of the movies, or watched none of the television shows (bar a few episodes of Lois & Clark as a kid), she's still seeped into my cultural awareness. It's a sort of unconscious osmosis.

So why did I pick up this book? Honestly: it was there. I came across it in a university library. I'm glad I did, as it was quite interesting - three and a half stars, rounding up to four. I think what I appreciate most about this book, aside from the very enthusiastic authors who all clearly love Lois, is the range of approaches they've taken to her, and how her presentation in various media reflects cultural concerns and tropes of the times. I can't say that I'm raring to go out and read some of the comics, which often sound frankly terrible, but the Smallville chapters make her sound genuinely appealing, so I'll be adding that to my retro watch list.

After reading this I'm more interested in Lois Lane than I was before, so success! Superman still comes across as a bore though. Sorry. 

Have finally got around to catching up on my reviews here! I first heard about this book back in 2020, when Gina Cole was talking about her current WIP at a convention. She described it as "Fijian women in space" and I made a note of it because that sounded awesome. And it is! If you've heard of Africanfuturism (coined by Nnedi Okorafor, who writes fantastic books that you should also read) this is Pasifikafuturism, and I want to read more of it. 

In a future where Pacific Islands have been deeply affected by climate change, Tia has just finished up at the Academy, and has eschewed a career in deep space in favour of joining the Global Indigenous Alliance to map ocean currents. I'm particularly interested in science fiction stories where people choose to stay on Earth, so I was highly sympathetic to Tia... especially when her sister, Leilani, is lost in space and Tia has to go rescue her. That's a very bare-bones description - I don't want to spoil anything - but the currents of colonialism, ethics (or the lack thereof) in exploration and academia, and family conflict permeate the narrative. It's really, really good... and apparently there are follow-up volumes to come. I can't wait! 

I absolutely loved McKay's earlier novel, The Animals in that Country, so when I heard from her that she had a short story collection coming out soon, I knew I had to read it. So glad I did! Not all of the stories here are speculative, and one of my favourite general pieces revolves around organising smoko break in a supermarket, but they're all this uneasy, often bleak contemporary view of mostly-Australia. Some of them, like the cat farm story, make me flinch a little to read, but like Animals these stories aren't meant to be comfortable reading.

On balance, without the title story, I might have given this four stars. "Gunflower," however. Let me tell you about "Gunflower." It's freaking outstanding, and all I could think when I read it was "I wish I'd written this!" It's a not-Australia story, as sometime off the coast of near-future America, an abortion ship waits, in international waters, to provide services to women after their awful government fails them yet again. Joan, newly pregnant and not at all happy about it, has other options available to her but chooses what's essentially the "abortion without borders" ship, hoping to be able to share her experiences with other women afterwards. Everything seems to be going well, until the story takes a weird turn into the speculative, and it's so ambiguous, and so absent of conclusion, that the whole thing is just fascinating. I love it. 

It's one of those stories I'm going to end up reading over and over again, I know it. 

This is one of those books I admire rather than love. There's something so fascinating about the central setting and metaphor: the algal tide that dries and flays, the spreading plague, the revolting meat product. I wonder if it hits differently because we all have that experience of contagion and isolation thanks to covid, except that the actual pandemic wasn't nearly so intertwined with setting. More, there's that ongoing commentary on consumption, with the meat and the causation and the young boy who can't stop eating.

I wondered, while reading, if the namelessness of the protagonist was really necessary, and on balance I think that it is. Her essential anonymity is indicative of the amalgamation that's the most depressing part of this very depressing story - life in this city, from the food to the faces, has blended down into product, and the consumption of product, and in the midst of this the individual counts for very little. It's the ending that's most interesting to me, though: the city is emptying, its inhabitants turned to refugees fleeing inland, but the protagonist, who is almost disgusted with wasted effort, it seems, decides to stay. Her life is likely to be hopeless and alone, but I can't help but sympathise. Under the circumstances, I think I'd rather be alone too. It feels a bit like the last piece of freedom available... the ability to sink, still anonymous, into the remnants of city and be forgotten.

It's so interestingly dreary. I feel the need to read it again, just to wallow in it.