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readwatchdrinkcoffee's Reviews (382)
Written in third-person and arranged with a nonlinear narrative that is written from multiple viewpoints, The Night Circus is a difficult book to get into as it takes a while to set the story up, but it very quickly entices you in with its rich prose and enchanting story.
Set over a decade, the story progresses slowly and is full of descriptions, which can sometimes be off-putting for a book that you want to get stuck into. It’s not always something that I get on with, but I loved it this time around, as you really get a sense of walking around the maze the circus for yourself.
With hints of The Prestige with its spell-binding but sometimes deceptive descriptions of magic and illusions, The Night Circus is a truly captivating read about a game that must be played, set mostly under the canvas of a mystical and colourful circus full of puzzling and stylised rooms that are decorated with seductive and daring performers.
But it is also a story about true love. Not a chick-flick kind of love that is about romance and emotions, but one that is shaped from a deep bond; a love that really is destined to happen. It’s not about the sly glances from across the room, but the literal sparks that fly when two hands touch; a love so dangerous that we don’t know the depths of its power.
The charming descriptions will really draw you into the elegant aesthetics and enigmatic and mystifying atmosphere, but it is the two characters at the centre of it all who are fated to come together in some significant way that will prevent you from being able to put this down.
I can’t wait to read it again soon to experience the powerfully effective magic of it all once more.
Set over a decade, the story progresses slowly and is full of descriptions, which can sometimes be off-putting for a book that you want to get stuck into. It’s not always something that I get on with, but I loved it this time around, as you really get a sense of walking around the maze the circus for yourself.
With hints of The Prestige with its spell-binding but sometimes deceptive descriptions of magic and illusions, The Night Circus is a truly captivating read about a game that must be played, set mostly under the canvas of a mystical and colourful circus full of puzzling and stylised rooms that are decorated with seductive and daring performers.
But it is also a story about true love. Not a chick-flick kind of love that is about romance and emotions, but one that is shaped from a deep bond; a love that really is destined to happen. It’s not about the sly glances from across the room, but the literal sparks that fly when two hands touch; a love so dangerous that we don’t know the depths of its power.
The charming descriptions will really draw you into the elegant aesthetics and enigmatic and mystifying atmosphere, but it is the two characters at the centre of it all who are fated to come together in some significant way that will prevent you from being able to put this down.
I can’t wait to read it again soon to experience the powerfully effective magic of it all once more.
With an opening scene featuring a wedding and a sniper that you’ll never forget, Sleeping in the Ground is a rain-drenched and gloomy investigation that asks the question, “What kind of person could commit this kind of mass murder?” Sparking an investigation set against the backdrop of the dreary Northern countryside, this atmospheric and chilling story sees DCI Banks forced to look into the past, whilst also having to deal with his own.
Most thrillers these days are about an inexperienced person going off on their own to solve a crime that is personal to them, facing one unsuspecting twist after the other. But it’s great to read about an actual detective doing the work, carrying out a more formal inquiry and doing all of the dirty work to establish the truth, just as it should be. Banks is a brilliant detective and you can instantly see why he is so deserving of his own TV series. Following a number of small leads to find out the bigger picture, he uses the tiniest clue or bit piece of evidence to spark a new line of inquiry to inevitably solve the case.
With meticulous research into police procedure, Robinson uses precise detail and develops the investigation brilliantly. It may not be the most engrossing work, but the proceedings, instead, feel very real, seeing the team undergoing surveillance, talking to family members, checking phone records and historical databases, and interviewing suspects at the local pub.
Having not read any of the other DCI Banks books, Sleeping in the Ground works great as a stand-alone story. The characters and relationships are easy to get to know and there is enough set up to engage you in this new case with a team who have been working together for many years. As Banks reteams with profiler Jenny Fuller, there is obviously some background information that I didn’t know about, and the same between Banks and Annie, but I never felt like I was missing out on anything.
With Fuller helping out on the case, there’s also a larger focus on trying to profile the killer, on trying to get into his mind to figure out some kind of motive. As the team attempt to paint a picture of the gunman, Jenny is convinced that they are dealing with a military-style rampage killer who has been triggered by an event in his past. This kind of in-depth and psychological approach to the investigation is really interesting as you will try to figure things out for yourself.
From the offset, Banks knows that there’s something wrong about the case, something left unresolved in the evidence they thought was finally coming together. As his investigation sends him further into the past, Banks also has to deal with his own, as the book begins with him returning from the funeral of an old flame. He is obviously pre-occupied for a lot of this case, but it’s great to learn more about him personally as the talented team around him help to bring all of the pieces of the puzzle together.
With a tense but ultimately satisfying conclusion as the killer is finally confronted, Sleeping in the Ground will not disappoint. I definitely want to read more of Peter Robinson’s DCI Banks series after getting into this one.
Most thrillers these days are about an inexperienced person going off on their own to solve a crime that is personal to them, facing one unsuspecting twist after the other. But it’s great to read about an actual detective doing the work, carrying out a more formal inquiry and doing all of the dirty work to establish the truth, just as it should be. Banks is a brilliant detective and you can instantly see why he is so deserving of his own TV series. Following a number of small leads to find out the bigger picture, he uses the tiniest clue or bit piece of evidence to spark a new line of inquiry to inevitably solve the case.
With meticulous research into police procedure, Robinson uses precise detail and develops the investigation brilliantly. It may not be the most engrossing work, but the proceedings, instead, feel very real, seeing the team undergoing surveillance, talking to family members, checking phone records and historical databases, and interviewing suspects at the local pub.
Having not read any of the other DCI Banks books, Sleeping in the Ground works great as a stand-alone story. The characters and relationships are easy to get to know and there is enough set up to engage you in this new case with a team who have been working together for many years. As Banks reteams with profiler Jenny Fuller, there is obviously some background information that I didn’t know about, and the same between Banks and Annie, but I never felt like I was missing out on anything.
With Fuller helping out on the case, there’s also a larger focus on trying to profile the killer, on trying to get into his mind to figure out some kind of motive. As the team attempt to paint a picture of the gunman, Jenny is convinced that they are dealing with a military-style rampage killer who has been triggered by an event in his past. This kind of in-depth and psychological approach to the investigation is really interesting as you will try to figure things out for yourself.
From the offset, Banks knows that there’s something wrong about the case, something left unresolved in the evidence they thought was finally coming together. As his investigation sends him further into the past, Banks also has to deal with his own, as the book begins with him returning from the funeral of an old flame. He is obviously pre-occupied for a lot of this case, but it’s great to learn more about him personally as the talented team around him help to bring all of the pieces of the puzzle together.
With a tense but ultimately satisfying conclusion as the killer is finally confronted, Sleeping in the Ground will not disappoint. I definitely want to read more of Peter Robinson’s DCI Banks series after getting into this one.
Lying in Wait is a standout thriller because it does a lot differently. Firstly, it is the of our main characters who commits the crime in the first paragraph. Opening with the line “My husband did not mean to kill Annie Doyle, but the lying tramp deserved it”, you know that this is going to be a brave and daring novel, and it hooks you from the start.
More of a confessional tale, this isn’t your typical mystery because we already know who committed the murder. Instead, it’s a search for answers as we want to find out why this crime was committed and how the lives of the characters involved will continue to go on.
Set in 1980s Dublin, Lying in Wait is told across an epic 36-year timeline as we witness the consequences of these characters’ actions and lies. It’s a very psychological story, focusing on the feelings of control, obsession and possessiveness, and it is full to the brim of betrayal.
With one of the main characters suffering from agoraphobia, as well, Lying in Wait also feels very claustrophobic. The atmosphere is set up brilliantly and has a gothic tone that instantly makes this feel like a classic.
Also told through three different points-of-view – Lydia, the reclusive wife, Laurence, her son, and Karen, the murdered woman’s sister – we get to see the impact of the murder on both families involved. The story is, therefore, very character driven. With each of these characters being desperate, insecure, and brutally cold, the only really likeable character is the one buried at the bottom of the garden. Nevertheless, they are all created and developed incredibly well, as the story delves deep into both Liz and Annie’s past to explain why thy were such desperate people in the first place.
I’m used to reading thrillers with big twists at the end, but this one is especially effective. Devastating, menacing, twisted, and blunt, the jaw-dropping ending really will chill you to the bone. This is one of the most memorable thrillers I have read in a long time.
More of a confessional tale, this isn’t your typical mystery because we already know who committed the murder. Instead, it’s a search for answers as we want to find out why this crime was committed and how the lives of the characters involved will continue to go on.
Set in 1980s Dublin, Lying in Wait is told across an epic 36-year timeline as we witness the consequences of these characters’ actions and lies. It’s a very psychological story, focusing on the feelings of control, obsession and possessiveness, and it is full to the brim of betrayal.
With one of the main characters suffering from agoraphobia, as well, Lying in Wait also feels very claustrophobic. The atmosphere is set up brilliantly and has a gothic tone that instantly makes this feel like a classic.
Also told through three different points-of-view – Lydia, the reclusive wife, Laurence, her son, and Karen, the murdered woman’s sister – we get to see the impact of the murder on both families involved. The story is, therefore, very character driven. With each of these characters being desperate, insecure, and brutally cold, the only really likeable character is the one buried at the bottom of the garden. Nevertheless, they are all created and developed incredibly well, as the story delves deep into both Liz and Annie’s past to explain why thy were such desperate people in the first place.
I’m used to reading thrillers with big twists at the end, but this one is especially effective. Devastating, menacing, twisted, and blunt, the jaw-dropping ending really will chill you to the bone. This is one of the most memorable thrillers I have read in a long time.
A story of ambition, desire, deception, heartbreak and tragedy, Tulip Fever is a thriller set in a shadowy 17-century Denmark that's set against the backdrop of an exhilarating historical period known as Tulipmania.
It's a very atmospheric novel full of descriptive imagery. However, what Moggach fails to do is detail the phenomena of Tulipmania in a substantial way. Amsterdam in the 1630s was considered one of the richest cities in the world, with Tulipmania filling citizen's pockets with large amounts of money. They were becoming more civilized, filling their lives with music and their homes with art, as painters became sought after to paint the portraits of the wealthy. It's an incredible interest period of history, but whilst the book uses the period as a backdrop to the story successfully, it fails to capture the exciting and lively time of this speculative bubble.
Told in alternating chapters narrated by Sophia in first person, Maria in third, and Cornelis in third, the book uses short chapters to ensure that something is constantly going on with its various dramas revolving around its main characters.
With Moggach's prose working like a piece of art itself, she focuses on every detail of the picture she is trying to paint, using poetic language to really set the scene of her story. She doesn't manage to detail her characters quite so well, though. Because we don't have time to get to know Sophia beforehand and her affair with Jan happens quite briskly, she comes across as merely a bored housewife. This is common for characters in this time period, but this doesn't make her the most likeable narrator. Cornelis doesn't have much personality, either. He seems like a good man, but it's difficult to empathise with either character when they don't feel so full of life.
The trouble is that the character's motives aren't strong enough. I like the concept of mistaken identity and deceit with the thriller twist in a 17th-century setting, but because of the story's historical backdrop, it feels as though Moggach plays it quite safe, intentionally making the story plainer, her characters more boring, and avoiding the passion and lust that a story like this could have.
The tone doesn't always work, with Moggach's old-fashioned narrative sometimes ruining the moment. Her descriptions of sex and use of crude jokes, with words like "lover's seed", "joystick", and comments of Sophia feeling "damp", although they suit the setting well, feel cringey and come across as comical rather than erotic.
There's a lot about this book I do like, but it's the way that the more contemporary story of deceit merges with its historical setting that I get a little lost. The balance just isn't there, as the book tries to be two very different things without successfully reaching the potential of either. The characters' emotions and our connection to them feel stunted because of the old-fashioned setting and prose, whilst the backdrop of Tulipmania feels underused amongst all of the drama.
It's a very atmospheric novel full of descriptive imagery. However, what Moggach fails to do is detail the phenomena of Tulipmania in a substantial way. Amsterdam in the 1630s was considered one of the richest cities in the world, with Tulipmania filling citizen's pockets with large amounts of money. They were becoming more civilized, filling their lives with music and their homes with art, as painters became sought after to paint the portraits of the wealthy. It's an incredible interest period of history, but whilst the book uses the period as a backdrop to the story successfully, it fails to capture the exciting and lively time of this speculative bubble.
Told in alternating chapters narrated by Sophia in first person, Maria in third, and Cornelis in third, the book uses short chapters to ensure that something is constantly going on with its various dramas revolving around its main characters.
With Moggach's prose working like a piece of art itself, she focuses on every detail of the picture she is trying to paint, using poetic language to really set the scene of her story. She doesn't manage to detail her characters quite so well, though. Because we don't have time to get to know Sophia beforehand and her affair with Jan happens quite briskly, she comes across as merely a bored housewife. This is common for characters in this time period, but this doesn't make her the most likeable narrator. Cornelis doesn't have much personality, either. He seems like a good man, but it's difficult to empathise with either character when they don't feel so full of life.
The trouble is that the character's motives aren't strong enough. I like the concept of mistaken identity and deceit with the thriller twist in a 17th-century setting, but because of the story's historical backdrop, it feels as though Moggach plays it quite safe, intentionally making the story plainer, her characters more boring, and avoiding the passion and lust that a story like this could have.
The tone doesn't always work, with Moggach's old-fashioned narrative sometimes ruining the moment. Her descriptions of sex and use of crude jokes, with words like "lover's seed", "joystick", and comments of Sophia feeling "damp", although they suit the setting well, feel cringey and come across as comical rather than erotic.
There's a lot about this book I do like, but it's the way that the more contemporary story of deceit merges with its historical setting that I get a little lost. The balance just isn't there, as the book tries to be two very different things without successfully reaching the potential of either. The characters' emotions and our connection to them feel stunted because of the old-fashioned setting and prose, whilst the backdrop of Tulipmania feels underused amongst all of the drama.
Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine is one of my favourite recent reads. It is beautifully original and subtly unpredictable, told through the eyes of an awkward character who we are all the more happy to admit that we’ve felt like or agreed with at some point in our lives.
For a character who we would typically think was unrelatable, I smiled throughout at Eleanor’s naivety, awkwardness and bluntness, and related quite often to her way of ways of thinking about the world. I wouldn’t say the things that she says out loud, but we all have days when we want to shut out the world because of how idiotic the people residing in it can be. If you’ve had a day recently when you’ve thought “Ugh, I hate people”, then this book is most definitely for you.
Through Eleanor’s brilliantly crafted character, you can be comforted in knowing that you are not alone on those days when you feel a bit lonely. Eleanor’s awkwardness is certainly at an extreme and her literal approach to everything is comical, but she’s also very self-aware and you can see that she has a pure heart, so there’s so much to love about her. However, as much as she is truth-sayer, she can’t see the truth about her own life.
Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine may seem quite straight forward at first, but it quickly becomes apparent that something has happened in Eleanor’s past. However, we are given very few clues as to what that might be. In fact, you have no idea where the story is going in either Eleanor’s present or past. But this isn’t a story that you read on edge, waiting for a big twist to hit you in the face. This is a story that you simply take your time to enjoy, knowing that there is something unspoken and that, eventually, Eleanor will let something slip to explain exactly why she is the way that she is.
The story is a very personable one and, deep down, is all about kindness, sending the heartfelt and very relevant message that it’s fine to not be fine. I feel like this book has been released at just the right time. I don’t know if it’s because of the fact that women are opening up about their feeling more in the media these days and that it is more acceptable to be so honest, or if it’s just because I have come to experience a little loneliness in my own life, but there’s something very modern about a character like Eleanor Oliphant and how a character like her feels very normal in our world today.
However, whilst this is a book that I absolutely loved and there are some good twists and revelations, there is also a lot left unanswered. We never get a full, clear story of what happened as things abruptly come to an end, so I was left completely in awe of this one.
That being said, Eleanor Oliphant is a heroine that will remain with me, so if there’s one book that you’re going to read this year, make sure it’s this one!
For a character who we would typically think was unrelatable, I smiled throughout at Eleanor’s naivety, awkwardness and bluntness, and related quite often to her way of ways of thinking about the world. I wouldn’t say the things that she says out loud, but we all have days when we want to shut out the world because of how idiotic the people residing in it can be. If you’ve had a day recently when you’ve thought “Ugh, I hate people”, then this book is most definitely for you.
Through Eleanor’s brilliantly crafted character, you can be comforted in knowing that you are not alone on those days when you feel a bit lonely. Eleanor’s awkwardness is certainly at an extreme and her literal approach to everything is comical, but she’s also very self-aware and you can see that she has a pure heart, so there’s so much to love about her. However, as much as she is truth-sayer, she can’t see the truth about her own life.
Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine may seem quite straight forward at first, but it quickly becomes apparent that something has happened in Eleanor’s past. However, we are given very few clues as to what that might be. In fact, you have no idea where the story is going in either Eleanor’s present or past. But this isn’t a story that you read on edge, waiting for a big twist to hit you in the face. This is a story that you simply take your time to enjoy, knowing that there is something unspoken and that, eventually, Eleanor will let something slip to explain exactly why she is the way that she is.
The story is a very personable one and, deep down, is all about kindness, sending the heartfelt and very relevant message that it’s fine to not be fine. I feel like this book has been released at just the right time. I don’t know if it’s because of the fact that women are opening up about their feeling more in the media these days and that it is more acceptable to be so honest, or if it’s just because I have come to experience a little loneliness in my own life, but there’s something very modern about a character like Eleanor Oliphant and how a character like her feels very normal in our world today.
However, whilst this is a book that I absolutely loved and there are some good twists and revelations, there is also a lot left unanswered. We never get a full, clear story of what happened as things abruptly come to an end, so I was left completely in awe of this one.
That being said, Eleanor Oliphant is a heroine that will remain with me, so if there’s one book that you’re going to read this year, make sure it’s this one!
Then She Was Gone isn’t your basic thriller. The premise may be around the disappearance of a teenage girl, but when some of her bones are found early on in and her disappearance is explained halfway through, the focus, instead, is on those who are left behind.
A typical thriller would drag out the investigation and unravelling of what has happened to a missing person to emphasise the darker tones of the story, but it would then rush the ending and miss out on a more emotional approach. What Then She Was Gone does is to put a fresh spin on the genre, giving away much of the mystery quiet early on. This may leave little to figure out by the second half, but it also means that it packs an emotional punch as we see the effects that the death has had on our protagonist, the mother, Laurel.
Because of this approach, detailing the grim death of Ellie early on and not giving time to reflect on her situation, her murder is pretty abrupt and, therefore, obscures any emotional connection, not giving you enough time to ‘mourn’ her character as much as you would like. For that reason, the story doesn’t have much impact at first, but it does hit much harder later on as we are, instead, faced with a murder that feels very real – murder victims are taken away from their families in an instant and there’s no time in such selfish acts to feel sympathy or remorse. We see the murder from her killer’s eyes: the act is done suddenly and then walked away from. It is this discourteous quality that I feel connects with the book’s title. One minute, they are there; the next, they are gone.
Without the time to feel connected to Ellie’s character, you are left with a very detached feeling whilst reading the final few chapters of this book, but Jewell did write a much happier ending at first. However, it just doesn’t have the same effect. I would have felt more comfortable with an ending like this, putting the book down with a hopeful smile on my face, but I would have also been left underwhelmed. Instead, with the much sadder ending, I cried at how horrible this situation was for Laurel because of how real it felt.
Then She Was Gone is an easy read and it has enough originality to it to make it worth reading. It has an interesting premise with a lot going on, but the way that the story unfolds does make the twists predictable and the plot lack any tension. I wouldn’t particularly say that it is hard-hitting, but it does have some disturbing qualities to it and is a little darker than you would expect.
A typical thriller would drag out the investigation and unravelling of what has happened to a missing person to emphasise the darker tones of the story, but it would then rush the ending and miss out on a more emotional approach. What Then She Was Gone does is to put a fresh spin on the genre, giving away much of the mystery quiet early on. This may leave little to figure out by the second half, but it also means that it packs an emotional punch as we see the effects that the death has had on our protagonist, the mother, Laurel.
Because of this approach, detailing the grim death of Ellie early on and not giving time to reflect on her situation, her murder is pretty abrupt and, therefore, obscures any emotional connection, not giving you enough time to ‘mourn’ her character as much as you would like. For that reason, the story doesn’t have much impact at first, but it does hit much harder later on as we are, instead, faced with a murder that feels very real – murder victims are taken away from their families in an instant and there’s no time in such selfish acts to feel sympathy or remorse. We see the murder from her killer’s eyes: the act is done suddenly and then walked away from. It is this discourteous quality that I feel connects with the book’s title. One minute, they are there; the next, they are gone.
Without the time to feel connected to Ellie’s character, you are left with a very detached feeling whilst reading the final few chapters of this book, but Jewell did write a much happier ending at first. However, it just doesn’t have the same effect. I would have felt more comfortable with an ending like this, putting the book down with a hopeful smile on my face, but I would have also been left underwhelmed. Instead, with the much sadder ending, I cried at how horrible this situation was for Laurel because of how real it felt.
Then She Was Gone is an easy read and it has enough originality to it to make it worth reading. It has an interesting premise with a lot going on, but the way that the story unfolds does make the twists predictable and the plot lack any tension. I wouldn’t particularly say that it is hard-hitting, but it does have some disturbing qualities to it and is a little darker than you would expect.
Set in Australia in the 1920’s, The Light Between Oceans is a beautifully written book exploring a heart-wrenching moral dilemma between a husband and wife.
With alluring descriptions of the Australian coast as the story’s backdrop, the artistic setting of The Light Between Oceans is contrasted with the loneliness of Janus island and its lighthouse, as well as the two characters who reside there. Tom is used to being alone and battling his own demons, whilst Isabel moves away from her busy life on the mainland with the intent to fill her life on Janus with a family of her own. But after having two miscarriages and a stillborn, Tom and Isabel soon begin to feel the confinements of living so far away from the rest of the world.
Dealing with such a delicate topic in this claustrophobic setting, it’s easy to feel Tom and Isabel’s suffering from the outset, making The Light Between Oceans a difficult story to delve straight into. With this slow start and depressing atmosphere, you aren’t urged to keep reading until your eyes can’t physically stay open any longer at first, but this will suddenly change around half way through.
At its heart, The Light Between Oceans is a brilliant exploration of what’s right and wrong, and about when good people make bad decisions. With this tormenting conflict at the centre of the story, you know that something is going to happen to shake up the lives of these characters, but to what extent?
It is this unknowing that makes The Light Between Oceans such a unique and empowering read, and it is in the final few chapters that the emotional impact of the story will take over, as you will soon find yourself weeping inconsolably as you face this moral dilemma for yourself. Would you stand by your other half no matter what? Or would you think about the consequences, even if that meant that you were giving up everything you wanted most in life?
Tom and Isabel are incredibly strong characters, ones we are relieved to have found each other, and it is through their conflicting morals that highlight the power of marriage, binding two people together in love, but also of the destruction that such a love can cause, as Tom and Isabel betray each other with their affections.
Whilst both characters are believable enough for you to feel for them during their harrowing situation, you also find yourself feeling against each of them at one time or another, due to the intense pressure that their decision puts them under.
Tom is a selfless character who will do anything for his wife, which is where his strength comes from at first. But, eventually, you want him to give into Isabel and lead a happy life with her, even though you know this would be a life of pretence. In the end, you admire him for his determination to stand up for what is right, despite his own feelings and relationship that is in the firing line.
Isabel, however, is a selfish character who will do anything to have a family of her own. Her story is painful for anybody to read about; a situation that any woman would hate to imagine themselves in, which is why it’s so difficult to know what you would do in her shoes. It’s because of this that many people will struggle with Isabel’s character. Should we feel sorry for her and pity her situation? Or should we be more like Tom and be selfless, thinking about the lives of those she is affecting instead of only ourselves?
For a debut novel, Stedman does an excellent job of getting her readers emotionally invested in this story. It is an incredibly mature novel focusing on loss and desperation, but one that many readers will struggle to engage with because of its unique and undesirable predicament.
It’s a story that people will read very differently, and maybe one that we should all return to in ten years or so, after gaining more experience in life and seeing how our views might have changed. So don’t put it down too hastily because, if you can’t engage with it at first, it may be worth a re-read at some other time.
With alluring descriptions of the Australian coast as the story’s backdrop, the artistic setting of The Light Between Oceans is contrasted with the loneliness of Janus island and its lighthouse, as well as the two characters who reside there. Tom is used to being alone and battling his own demons, whilst Isabel moves away from her busy life on the mainland with the intent to fill her life on Janus with a family of her own. But after having two miscarriages and a stillborn, Tom and Isabel soon begin to feel the confinements of living so far away from the rest of the world.
Dealing with such a delicate topic in this claustrophobic setting, it’s easy to feel Tom and Isabel’s suffering from the outset, making The Light Between Oceans a difficult story to delve straight into. With this slow start and depressing atmosphere, you aren’t urged to keep reading until your eyes can’t physically stay open any longer at first, but this will suddenly change around half way through.
At its heart, The Light Between Oceans is a brilliant exploration of what’s right and wrong, and about when good people make bad decisions. With this tormenting conflict at the centre of the story, you know that something is going to happen to shake up the lives of these characters, but to what extent?
It is this unknowing that makes The Light Between Oceans such a unique and empowering read, and it is in the final few chapters that the emotional impact of the story will take over, as you will soon find yourself weeping inconsolably as you face this moral dilemma for yourself. Would you stand by your other half no matter what? Or would you think about the consequences, even if that meant that you were giving up everything you wanted most in life?
Tom and Isabel are incredibly strong characters, ones we are relieved to have found each other, and it is through their conflicting morals that highlight the power of marriage, binding two people together in love, but also of the destruction that such a love can cause, as Tom and Isabel betray each other with their affections.
Whilst both characters are believable enough for you to feel for them during their harrowing situation, you also find yourself feeling against each of them at one time or another, due to the intense pressure that their decision puts them under.
Tom is a selfless character who will do anything for his wife, which is where his strength comes from at first. But, eventually, you want him to give into Isabel and lead a happy life with her, even though you know this would be a life of pretence. In the end, you admire him for his determination to stand up for what is right, despite his own feelings and relationship that is in the firing line.
Isabel, however, is a selfish character who will do anything to have a family of her own. Her story is painful for anybody to read about; a situation that any woman would hate to imagine themselves in, which is why it’s so difficult to know what you would do in her shoes. It’s because of this that many people will struggle with Isabel’s character. Should we feel sorry for her and pity her situation? Or should we be more like Tom and be selfless, thinking about the lives of those she is affecting instead of only ourselves?
For a debut novel, Stedman does an excellent job of getting her readers emotionally invested in this story. It is an incredibly mature novel focusing on loss and desperation, but one that many readers will struggle to engage with because of its unique and undesirable predicament.
It’s a story that people will read very differently, and maybe one that we should all return to in ten years or so, after gaining more experience in life and seeing how our views might have changed. So don’t put it down too hastily because, if you can’t engage with it at first, it may be worth a re-read at some other time.
The Mountain Between Us is one of my favourite books; a remarkable story that breaks me into pieces with its heartbreaking ending with every read.
Part survival story, part romance, the story is told through two narratives. In the present, Ben is stranded with Ashley in a desolate landscape as the two are drawn closer through their experience. But every night, whilst Ashley sleeps, Ben talks to his wife through a voice recording device, looking back on how they met and fell in love, leading us all the way up to their recent separation.
With these two contrasting stories, you don’t just keep reading to find out if they make it, you also keep reading to see what it is that Ben did to end his marriage and to see whose love prevails. You are torn between wanting Ashley to be loved by somebody like Ben, and with Ben reconciling with Rachel to prove that “love is worth doing.”
Taking the time to explore Ben and Rachel’s past relationship, you instantly feel close to these two characters – one we have met and one we look forward to meeting. There’s so much to relate to in their relationship, even if your own is unlikely to be any similar to theirs. But, just as Ashley does, you find yourself completely taken in by Ben’s character and in admiration of his outlook on life, finding a way to link his attitudes and life lessons to your own experiences.
“Once a heart breaks…it doesn’t just grow back. It’s not a lizard’s tail. It’s more like a huge stained glass that shattered into a million pieces, and it’s not going back together. Least not the way it was. You can mush it all into one piece, but that doesn’t make it a window. That makes it a pile of broken colored glass. Shattered hearts don’t mend and they don’t heal. They just don’t work that way.”
It sounds quite sentimental on paper, but the way the story unfolds makes all of this romance come across as genuinely and deeply compelling, and it will fill you with an optimism that there’s always hope, forgiveness, and someone out there to share your way of looking at life.
But things aren’t as easy as they would seem, despite that feeling of optimism that this book often radiates. Whilst you spend a lot of time imagining that Ben and Ashley are going to fall deeply in love or that Ben and Rachel have to make things work after this experience, Martin throws in something that you definitely won’t be expecting. This twist in the final few chapters is such a heartbreaking and poignant moment, that you will feel like you have been reading a completely different story. What once seemed like a perfect love story is anything but, and it breaks my heart every time.
Part survival story, part romance, the story is told through two narratives. In the present, Ben is stranded with Ashley in a desolate landscape as the two are drawn closer through their experience. But every night, whilst Ashley sleeps, Ben talks to his wife through a voice recording device, looking back on how they met and fell in love, leading us all the way up to their recent separation.
With these two contrasting stories, you don’t just keep reading to find out if they make it, you also keep reading to see what it is that Ben did to end his marriage and to see whose love prevails. You are torn between wanting Ashley to be loved by somebody like Ben, and with Ben reconciling with Rachel to prove that “love is worth doing.”
Taking the time to explore Ben and Rachel’s past relationship, you instantly feel close to these two characters – one we have met and one we look forward to meeting. There’s so much to relate to in their relationship, even if your own is unlikely to be any similar to theirs. But, just as Ashley does, you find yourself completely taken in by Ben’s character and in admiration of his outlook on life, finding a way to link his attitudes and life lessons to your own experiences.
“Once a heart breaks…it doesn’t just grow back. It’s not a lizard’s tail. It’s more like a huge stained glass that shattered into a million pieces, and it’s not going back together. Least not the way it was. You can mush it all into one piece, but that doesn’t make it a window. That makes it a pile of broken colored glass. Shattered hearts don’t mend and they don’t heal. They just don’t work that way.”
It sounds quite sentimental on paper, but the way the story unfolds makes all of this romance come across as genuinely and deeply compelling, and it will fill you with an optimism that there’s always hope, forgiveness, and someone out there to share your way of looking at life.
But things aren’t as easy as they would seem, despite that feeling of optimism that this book often radiates. Whilst you spend a lot of time imagining that Ben and Ashley are going to fall deeply in love or that Ben and Rachel have to make things work after this experience, Martin throws in something that you definitely won’t be expecting. This twist in the final few chapters is such a heartbreaking and poignant moment, that you will feel like you have been reading a completely different story. What once seemed like a perfect love story is anything but, and it breaks my heart every time.
Like many of C.L. Taylor’s books, The Escape is narrated by a female character facing a troubling situation. To make matters worse, Jo also suffers from anxiety and agoraphobia. She’s had a troubled life. A previous miscarriage and her struggle with mental illness have put a strain on her relationship. Pushed to the edge, you are really drawn into her nightmare as she is forced to step out of her comfort zone and make some difficult choices. When no one else will believe her, she must do whatever she must to protect her daughter.
There’s something about her that women – especially mothers – will easily relate to. However, she is a very frantic character and her actions and mindset are all over the place, which is no surprise considering the whirlwind of a situation she is in. But she acts on her mother’s instinct, which is exactly what anyone else would do, and her fast pace keeps you on your toes.
Taylor’s books are always easy to fly through, and this is no different. Chapters interchange between Jo narrating in the present and a written letter type message by an unknown sender, although it’s easy to assume that it’s from the woman who is supposedly stalking Jo. But you can’t trust anybody in this book. Who is Jo really in danger from? Where can she find safety?
The Escape is an immersive thriller that is well-crafted and full of well-constructed characters who each have their part to play. As to be expected, it is full of unexpected twists, one of which is to do with something that you thought you understood all along, only for you to learn that you had been tricked from the very beginning. The ending is especially a shocker and will have you completely on edge.
However, the final third doesn’t come together as well as her previous books have done, so it does leave you slightly dissatisfied. But, at the same time, Taylor’s ever-improving writing talent takes this story to new levels. Her words create such a clear picture in your head that I can still remember all of the tiny details in every scene, months after reading it – the spooky and disturbing beach, the house with an ominous presence. With many secrets to be revealed, as well, there’s always something new to draw you back into the story when you think you know where it’s going.
There’s something about her that women – especially mothers – will easily relate to. However, she is a very frantic character and her actions and mindset are all over the place, which is no surprise considering the whirlwind of a situation she is in. But she acts on her mother’s instinct, which is exactly what anyone else would do, and her fast pace keeps you on your toes.
Taylor’s books are always easy to fly through, and this is no different. Chapters interchange between Jo narrating in the present and a written letter type message by an unknown sender, although it’s easy to assume that it’s from the woman who is supposedly stalking Jo. But you can’t trust anybody in this book. Who is Jo really in danger from? Where can she find safety?
The Escape is an immersive thriller that is well-crafted and full of well-constructed characters who each have their part to play. As to be expected, it is full of unexpected twists, one of which is to do with something that you thought you understood all along, only for you to learn that you had been tricked from the very beginning. The ending is especially a shocker and will have you completely on edge.
However, the final third doesn’t come together as well as her previous books have done, so it does leave you slightly dissatisfied. But, at the same time, Taylor’s ever-improving writing talent takes this story to new levels. Her words create such a clear picture in your head that I can still remember all of the tiny details in every scene, months after reading it – the spooky and disturbing beach, the house with an ominous presence. With many secrets to be revealed, as well, there’s always something new to draw you back into the story when you think you know where it’s going.
Thrillers about messed up females aren’t anything new. But for me, Gillian Flynn is one of two authors that got me into the genre and I will always read her work. After reading and loving Gone Girl, I immediately had to purchase all of her other books and she hasn’t failed to disappoint me yet. Sharp Objects is no different.
Although Flynn again uses a female point of view, Sharp Objects still feels very different to her follow-up books in that it is much more raw. Most of Flynn’s characters have gone through traumatic experiences which have impacted them in some way, but Camille’s definitely had the worst of it, and there’s still a lot more to come.
Camille is also a journalist, so there’s much more of a focus on her trying to piece together a crime in her small town. She also has the skills to do it, as she attempts to prove to her old school friends and family that she has come out of the psych hospital and turned her life around.
It’s not a particularly gory novel and none of the descriptions are too extreme to read, but details of Camille carving words into her flesh that cover every inch of her body are frequent. It’s not shocking, but it’s certainly effective.
And then, of course, there are the more sexual scenes which Flynn never shies away from. The way she makes a book feel both sexy and messed up is definitely one of her more fine-tuned qualities, as it is this mix of such contrasting emotions that will keep you so gripped by her writing.
Sharp Objects is also the best examples of Flynn exploring a female character yet. Camille has been avoiding her home town for good reasons: mostly, her mother and her new step-family that she barely knows. As Camille’s fragile mind is dragged deeper into her family’s melodramas, she fights to keep her head above water.
She’s struggled in the past and her hometown has put her right back on the edge, but she certainly isn’t a weak character by any means. She’s no victim, despite how her upbringing has tried to turn her into one, and it’s time for her to finally prove that. However, she doesn’t know the worst of it.
It’s definitely a twisted and psychological read, both emotionally and in the way that it develops, and it explores many dark themes that get under your skin with its elements of horror. It’s hard not to say any more without spoiling the major twist, which is one of the best that I have read in a long time, but there’s so much more to this story than you would have expected.
Although Flynn again uses a female point of view, Sharp Objects still feels very different to her follow-up books in that it is much more raw. Most of Flynn’s characters have gone through traumatic experiences which have impacted them in some way, but Camille’s definitely had the worst of it, and there’s still a lot more to come.
Camille is also a journalist, so there’s much more of a focus on her trying to piece together a crime in her small town. She also has the skills to do it, as she attempts to prove to her old school friends and family that she has come out of the psych hospital and turned her life around.
It’s not a particularly gory novel and none of the descriptions are too extreme to read, but details of Camille carving words into her flesh that cover every inch of her body are frequent. It’s not shocking, but it’s certainly effective.
And then, of course, there are the more sexual scenes which Flynn never shies away from. The way she makes a book feel both sexy and messed up is definitely one of her more fine-tuned qualities, as it is this mix of such contrasting emotions that will keep you so gripped by her writing.
Sharp Objects is also the best examples of Flynn exploring a female character yet. Camille has been avoiding her home town for good reasons: mostly, her mother and her new step-family that she barely knows. As Camille’s fragile mind is dragged deeper into her family’s melodramas, she fights to keep her head above water.
She’s struggled in the past and her hometown has put her right back on the edge, but she certainly isn’t a weak character by any means. She’s no victim, despite how her upbringing has tried to turn her into one, and it’s time for her to finally prove that. However, she doesn’t know the worst of it.
It’s definitely a twisted and psychological read, both emotionally and in the way that it develops, and it explores many dark themes that get under your skin with its elements of horror. It’s hard not to say any more without spoiling the major twist, which is one of the best that I have read in a long time, but there’s so much more to this story than you would have expected.