I always find it hard to review memoirs because really, how can you rate a person's experience and the way they tell it, especially when it comes to traumatic experiences? But this memoir is unlike any I've read before. Jennette lays herself so bare, so vulnerable, that it's truly inspiring to hear her story and admire the strength it must have taken to revisit these memories. I listened to the audiobook since she was the narrator, and I think it brings another dimension to the experience.

I was the peak demographic for iCarly when it came out, a tween still very much involved in watching Nickelodeon and loving the surge in the lol random humor of the era. I wasn't an avid watcher, but I liked the show okay and would watch it if nothing else was on. To know what was really going on behind the scenes puts those memories of the show in a weird light. It was rough hearing all of her trauma, every emotional and physical hurdle that she faced, but, by the end, I felt so proud of her for breaking the cycle of abuse and taking care of her mental health. 

This isn't really a book that you want to binge read. There are so many uncomfortable and upsetting things that you almost have to brace yourself each chapter, but Jennette writes it in such a way that it feels almost conversational. You want to read more, just to hope that there is some bit of happiness here, and there is, in some small pockets. After it all, there is a bit of hope, even thought the road to recovery is a long one. 

I hope Jennette had some catharsis while sharing her story. I hope that it made the weight easier to bear or that it brought some release. I don't have to know if it did, I don't have the right to know, but still, I hope. 

Thanks so much to NetGalley and Peachtree Teen for this ARC in exchange for an honest review!

Being the sucker for art nouveau that I am, I was immediately drawn to The Absinthe Underground through its gorgeous and imaginative cover. It really does sell the overall atmosphere and tone of the book, something enchanting, inviting, and maybe a touch mysterious. The romance between Sybil and Esme is genuinely sweet and I adore the trope of "two oblivious lovebirds that can't realize the other is SUPER into them."

The book started off well, giving an interesting buildup to Sybil's thieving background and Esme's calculating mind, but I think it loses steam right when the action is just getting started. I never really felt like they were going on a heist, more like an overextended fetch quest. I wasn't on the edge of my seat at any point since the writing style didn't really do much to enhance the mood. It's just going to Point A to Point B to Point C and then yay success. For this kind of high risk high reward plot, there really didn't seem to be much difficulty to the tasks.

When it comes to the magic of the world, there doesn't seem to be much world building other than name dropping Fae courts and showing some general displays of magic, It works within this particular story, as the world of the Fae isn't the main focus but rather a quick destination to achieve a goal. It would be nice to see more of that world should the book get a sequel, but, from what is seen here, it's enough. 

Overall, I was hoping for a bit more, but it settled nicely in my mind as a just okay sapphic, friends-to-lovers fantasy. 

The final installment in an incredible collection of tales from Greek mythology that is perfect for any lover of the Greek pantheon. I've been keeping up with this series since Zeus and I'm so glad the author had a chance to fully round out the series with each major god/goddess.

This one didn't seem to flow as neatly as the others, which did have multiple myths taking place in one volume, but seemed more interconnected. Here, Dionysos jumps from one thing to another, which I suppose is in character for the god of madness. 

I was also glad to learn that there is a bunch of gender shenanigans surrounding Dionysos. I haven't done too much research on the subject, I wonder what sources O'Connor used to find that aspect of Dionysos' story, but I think that makes for an interesting discussion. Naturally they don't exactly tell you that in sophomore mythology, so it slightly endeared me more to him that he's rocking with the LGBTQ. I mean, he's also the god of theater and ragers, so really I'm not too surprised. There are a lot of queer aspects to him, both in gender and sexuality, where he has romantic ties with both men and women. I'm glad that, even though there is a sort of sanitation of Dionysos going on in this comic, probably due to the younger audience that flocks to them, it still gives a decent introductory look at the latest addition to the pantheon.

Giving it a 4 just on illustrations alone. I love Klassen's dark sense of humor in his picture books, especially when interwoven with vague storytelling. This book is spooky, dark, but never outright disturbing, unless you have a pathological fear of bones. 

I have to admit, seeing a headless skeleton in a darkened doorway did give me the shivers for a split second. 

The book just oozes atmosphere, with all the shadows and rough textures. It's simple, but effective, and it'll no doubt entertain the more morbid children that enjoy the more gothic side of things.

Also, a dark theory popped into my head that Otilla knew that the skeleton was the body of the skull and, to ensure that she will always have a place at the castle due to its dependence on her, she destroys the skeleton so that they can never reunite. She just looks so methodical as she hacks the skeleton to pieces, burns it to ash, and throws it into the bottomless pit. The theory makes Otilla's running away at the beginning a little darker if the theory is sound enough. Is she running away after performing another malevolent deed? Were the people in the town finally ready to capture her after a long string of crime? But the fun is in the mystery after all. 

 

When it comes to imaginative surrealism that so perfectly oscillates between wondrous and disturbing, I would expect nothing less from the creator of Hellrasier. Clive Barker has created such a unique world in the Abarat, a place where each island represents a different time of day. There are creatures both beautiful and terrifying, helpful eccentrics, malevolent foes, and a promise for a most eventful future for our protagonist. 

For the first book in a series, this book does well to establish the world and what sort of adventures may lay ahead for Candy Quakenbush. However, other than her arrival in the Abarat, it really felt like she didn't have much to do during this story. She doesn't really have a goal in mind other than to get away from her ho hum home in Chickentown and escape from the baddies trying to capture her for the nightmarish Lord Carrion. It's a bit Alice in Wonderland that way, where you go from one oddity to the next without much plot developing. It made for a slow read at times, but the worldbuilding and cast of characters makes up for it.

The art in this book is simply breathtaking. It's weird, cerebral, abstract, the kind of thing you would only see in dreams or nightmares. It really helps drive some of the more horror aspects of the book, as there are definitely some images that are bound to linger with you.

I'm a little hesitant to continue the series since last time I checked it has been at least twelve years since the latest book came out and I really don't want to commit myself to another series that's had over a decade between releases. This is a promising start though, so I hope there is some kind of continuation at some point.

I started the challenge of reading through this 3,000 page tome of a book through the Les Mis Letters substack, which sent me one chapter of the book a day, making it a little bit easier to digest. Sure there were moments in the year where I fell behind and ended up trying to read 20 chapters all at once, but let's ignore that. This isn't a book that you can easily rush through. There is absolutely so much going on, whether through its vast cast of characters, themes, morals, symbols, and histories. You try going in too fast or too quickly and you end up with a headache. 

Originally, I had only known of the story through the musical, which, now that I am able to compare and contrast, is an adequate summation. Even a near three hour musical feels like the Sparks Notes version of the book, but in a good way. I'm glad to have finally gotten to the source of it, even though I may have started to skim at bits.

Listen, I think anyone that has read this book will admit it's not an easy read. There are going to be slow, slogging moments, as Hugo includes every minute detail even if it's not relevant. He goes on tangents, regularly giving infamous asides about The Battle of Waterloo, the nature of convents, what exactly a gauchin is, and the ever popular history of the Parisian sewer systems. In his day, when most knowledge was passed through books, these probably gave the book a great educational merit. Now, where we have the luxury of having many sources to turn to, it feels like a little extra padding. Still, as vocal as he is, you cannot deny the amount of care, compassion, and spirit Hugo puts into his writing. As he writes about the lives of even the most sordid characters, he displays a brilliant amount of humanity. There is empathy and compassion abound as Hugo displays humans' capacity for good and wickedness and the opportunity for moral betterment. 

Even if you can't finish it, Les Mis is a book you should at least attempt to read once if you think you'll enjoy it. 

For a winter anthology, this collection is very diverse in terms of setting and depictions of winter traditions from various cultures. Some give an in depth perspective of a holiday/custom, while others are a little bit more subtle in their approach. I have to say, there were some that stumped me, like "The Mawkin Field" and "No Light, No Light," where I didn't really feel satisfied or understand their inclusion in this anthology. Otherwise, there were some real delights to balance them out, namely "His Castle," "Dry and Ready," "Return to Bear Creek Lodge," "Our Recent Unpleasantness," and "The Lord of Misrule." I hadn't read any of the authors before, excluding Garth Nix, so I was glad to be introduced to some authors I'd be willing to check out more. 

The others ranged from being perfectly entertaining and passable to probably will not remember a month down the line. Some ended before they really began, some relied on twists that didn't really land or really feel deserved. Still, I was glad to read this one to get a more well rounded experience of holiday horror. 

The book was feeling like 3.5 at the end of the day, but I want to be fairly positive towards it so I bumped it up to a four.

Those looking for a tense, thrilling, and horrific werewolf story should probably look elsewhere and I don't mean that in a negative way. There are parts where the story adopts horror elements, but it's does not exactly always take place in the realm of bestial monsters with fangs and claws. The werewolf portion mainly just serves as a backdrop/extended metaphor for sexual assault, something the author makes clear at the very beginning. I didn't really mind this aspect of the story. It reminded me of an adult horror book I read last year, Such Sharp Teeth, that also used lycanthropy as a metaphor for assault. However, it's use of the transformations were a little bit more central to the plot, where here a lot of the actual werewolf stuff doesn't really make an appearance until the end. I think this works well for the story Howl is, as the mental and social ramifications of Virgil's attack lead the conflict of the book.

While not exactly action packed, Howl engages its readers through following Virgil as he processes his trauma, navigates being the town outcast, and uncovers the mystery of what really attacked him out on the sprawl. The story takes a more grounded approach to a supernatural tale, focusing more on the bigotry and injustice that takes place in a small town that would rather sweep everything under the rug than face it head on. While it takes a rather slow approach, I found myself zipping through the book, curious as to how he would face his trauma and what it would all culminate to. 

The end feels cathartic, though the answer to the mystery seems obvious from the beginning despite a last minute red herring. It never tried to muddy the waters since we know a monster attacked Virgil, but perhaps it was better for this particular story to play it straight due to the sensitivity of the material. 

It's not exactly a story with a twist at every turn, nor is it a horror story that is particularly scary, at least, not in the paranormal way. It has darkness, it has some shreds of hope and connection here and there. It's a book that'll be known for its rawness, for its pain, but also for showing how to keep moving forward without becoming the monsters we've faced.

 Was sucked in by the idea of a monster funeral parlor, but I think I was mostly let down by the execution. It didn't really meet my expectations, which is solely a me problem, but either way it feels like the story took the less interesting concept and ran with it. What I initially envisioned as a story about a kid learning how to run a funeral parlor for monsters, with all their different funerary rites and customs, instead became a long-winded narrative with endless sibling bickering, references that ooze "Hey kids, I, an adult, also know what a Fortnite is" energy, and a style of humor that really wasn't for me.  I'm sure middle grade readers will love it as a spooky, fun read, but I think by the time act three rolled around I was just tired of it. 

Also, the great reveal of Viv being the reason the parents separated and the father taking Molly away from the home, only for Molly to only be mildly peeved at her was just....I don't know, not great? It seemed like an emotionless moment for something that's been building up since the beginning.

Having been a fan of Aldridge's graphic novels, I was curious as to how his storytelling would transfer to a book vs a comic. His style is simple, yet atmospheric, capturing the perfect picture of a gothic academy bursting with secrets and mystery. It's not a scary book, more spooky than anything, but the author knows how to sell a tense scene and an unsettling vibe through the language and illustrations used. I'm not sure if the intended audience will find it terrifying, especially when compared to other titles in the genre, but I think it's charm should be enough to rub off on them. 

The pace is excellent for a reader looking to get right to the action. In each chapter, there is a clear progression of events, leaving no time for dillydallying even in its more reflective moments. It doesn't come off as rushed, more like this book is clear in its direction and knows exactly the best way to get from Point A to Point B. 

I loved the casual queer representation, especially when it came to Nev's gender identity. It wasn't singled out at all, no one questioned their pronouns or presentation, it was just a part of their character that didn't really have to be explained. That's such an important element when it comes to representative material for young audiences, that your identity is valid, accepted and treated as such without even having to point it out. 

I'm trying to think if there is anything I would have wanted differently out of this book, but I think all I want is more. Some mysteries are left intentionally vague, which makes it a little hard to be satisfied by the book's end. Here's hoping that a second book is on the way and we can figure out what exactly lies at the depths of this school.