readwatchdrinkcoffee's Reviews (382)

Divergent did well to set the story up, especially with the huge competition that the film had and has. But it excelled on most levels: it had great characters, a well-crafted future world, a bit of romance, a lot of intrigue and even more action. Yet Insurgent falls flat on most of these levels.

Throughout the story, we only want the answer to one question: what is the information that Jeanine is trying to hide? But it’s not until the very end that we find out, and until then there’s a lot of build up to, well, nothing. There is a lot more shooting and fighting and more simulations full of fear that give the film its dark edge, but what stands out more than these impacting scenes is the amount of times that Tris cries and her constant worry about Four.

The romance worked really well in Divergent because Four wasn’t a particularly likeable character, which made Tris’ romance with him subtle yet honest. The first film also worked because of how strong Tris’ character was, especially as she realised that she could control her fears. But fear takes over in Insurgent, and both of these qualities come crumbling down. Tris may be a 16-year-old girl who knows nothing but the care of her loving family up until her move to Dauntless, and this may be how most would react in a real-life situation, but this is a fantasy novel about strength, control, and standing up for what’s right. Insurgent really needed to see Tris step up and dealt with her situation full on, but, instead, it all gets too much for her and we have to see her constant melt downs instead of her huge acts of courage.

There is a big reveal at the end of the novel, which everything has building up towards, but by this point it’s easy to have either stopped caring or to have guessed it for yourself. For me, it was both. From the start of Divergent we’ve been craving to know why the society is the way it is and what’s beyond the walls, but if you’ve read any kind of dystopian novel lately, especially among the busy young adult crowd, then it’s all pretty obvious which, unfortunately, leaves the novel falling at a dead-end. Sure, Allegiance is going to be filled with more revelations, shocks, and, ultimately, some kind of revolution, but at this point it’s hard to feel excited about it.

Reading Wild, I wanted to pack my bags up and go for a long walk to somewhere unknown. I’d been traveling myself the year before picking up this book, so I knew what it felt like to trek around unfamiliar places with no responsibilities to worry about or people to put you down, without plans and infinite amount of time ahead of you to do whatever you felt right. But I wasn’t particularly inspired by the story at the time of reading it, because it isn’t the motivational journey as promised.

Sure, Wild gives you that wanderlust feeling. But any book about traveling will do that. Cheryl’s details of the trial itself are excellently documented and as an advertisement to the Pacific Crest Trail, I’m sure thousands of people will be partaking in it after reading her story.

But Wild is supposed to be about a woman finding herself after losing her way after the death of her mother. Even the thought of that sends a ping of pain to your heart, but there’s not enough reflection on Cheryl’s character to give a big enough impact on the audience. Cheryl wasn’t a changed woman when she finished the trial; instead, she was just given some spare time to get her head around her situation a little better. Which is fair enough. But I wanted to feel empowered and inspired, and that’s just not what this book did.

It’s not powerfully moving or overly inspirational, but it is a very personal story that everybody will take something different from. Aside from my own lack of engagement, I did enjoy Cheryl’s story, but I didn’t find it as deep or as adventurous as I had hoped.

I think this book can be defined as a rom-com for males. I so wanted this to be a deep, emotional romance about finding yourself and helping others be their best, but it wasn't. It's realistic, I'll give it that, but I wanted to find two characters I would love, not two that I would be constantly disappointed with.

I began reading this novel after watching the first few series of the TV adaptation. They're both very similar so, for that, the TV series is a brilliant adaptation, and they've created the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros on-screen perfectly.

The books tell a fantastic story and has a number of great characters, making for one excellent TV show. If you've seen the series then you don't learn anything new from reading the book, however, just some more in-depth background information, but it's Martin's brilliant imagination we have to thank for that.

Serena is a remarkably well-written book with poetic and colourful imagery and powerful leading characters. Set in the beautifully described Smoky Mountains, Rash brings every detail to life with his highly-polished use of detailed language, as he tells a uniquely dark tale of deceit and revenge.

As you would expect from a story of betrayal in a male-led industry, Rash explores many themes, most notably of greed, corruption, murder, obsession, jealousy, and desperation. But what makes them stand out is his use of gender reversal. Pemberton may be the boss, but this story is about its title character: Serena. Serena has no boundaries; she takes control, makes threats to get her own way, and will stop at nothing to ensure that people think of her as more than just a wife.

Her presence is unforgettable, as the book paints an image of her making her mark in the world, standing on top of a self-made tower of the bodies of those who have gotten in her way. She is such a well-crafted character and certainly has a Lady Macbeth vibe to her, as she’s beautifully mesmerising and deceitfully threatening at the same time, showing absolutely no ounce of remorse whatsoever.

But whilst her character is so well fleshed out in the present, we don’t get to know her more personally aside from the sole focus on her committed need to seek revenge. She obviously has a madness stirring up inside of her, and all for good reasons, but I wanted more narrative from her point of view, to see her obsessions and greed building up and to know how she feels about being unable to bear a child of her own and having a husband who neglects his loyalties.

There’s so much going on around Serena to fuel these fires, and so much in her past that isn’t explained, that some deeper engagement is needed at times. Serena’s actions speak loudly enough, but her powerful character does somewhat diminish the more in-depth themes and humane issues at the heart of the story which often feel left behind.

There’s no denying the beauty in Rash’s prose, but there’s a lot about this book that doesn’t have any impact at all. With a heavy focus on the timber industry itself, as well, there are many conversations about contracts, schemes, deals and partnerships within their business. It is a very complex story at times with many characters and under-handed acts of deception. But anything that doesn’t involve Serena and Pemberton doesn’t quite have the same effect as that of Serena’s character.

She is undoubtedly the driving force behind it all, but whilst the story is so rich in detail, the heights and darkness of the mountains and trees do sometimes overshadow its more insignificant characters. It certainly isn’t tense enough for one with death and murder on every page, so I wasn’t able to be completely taken in by it.

That being said, I won’t skip at the chance to read another of Rash’s books because he truly has a way with words.

An intense mystery thriller, Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl is a book that you definitely won’t want to put down. Every twist poses a new question, and with a somewhat psychotic conclusion that you wouldn’t even consider an option, this book will have your brain ticking at full pace until you reach the very end.

It’s this intense and never-ending suspense, as well as the idea of never knowing the whole story, that makes Gone Girl such a gripping read. But not only is it a fantastic thriller, it’s also an excellent exploration of relationships.

Introduced to the readers as your average husband and wife, Nick and Amy are a couple that you quickly warm to. But there’s always a side to a couple that you don’t see. Gone Girl lets you in to see how a couple may seem happy and loved-up from the outside, but how this happiness can easily be blurred.

Interchanging every other chapter between the present, as Nick details his efforts searching for his missing wife, with Amy’s past accounts through her diary entries, we also get to see the difference between how men and women think and analyse certain situations.

One minute everything appears to be normal with Nick as the bad guy, but the next minute you see everything through a completely different light. This struggle continues through the whole novel, constantly changing your opinions of these characters and, therefore, putting the blame on a number of people, as you try to figure out the truth of this mystery for yourself.

I haven’t been able to read a novel without thinking of Nick and Amy since; I could very easily read this novel over and over again.

The Maze Runner is a dark adventure full of hope, determination, and desperation. Centring on a group of young characters who are forced to grow up in unbelievable circumstances, it’s this dark approach to its dystopian setting that is The Maze Runner‘s strongest quality, giving a refreshing approach to typical teenage coming-of-age story. The Maze Runner explores this theme perfectly, as the boys eat, drink, work, sleep, and fight together, having to grow up fast and become men way ahead of their time.

The Maze Runner may often be compared to The Hunger Games with the similarities in its dystopian setting, having adults in control and inflicting violence on young characters, but, to me, it feels a lot more like Lord of the Flies at times. The Maze Runner is about a group of young boys working together, creating a life for themselves in an unknown environment, making their own rules and keeping order, and ensuring that everybody has a part to play. Thomas works closely with everybody, getting to know the different jobs and Keepers of these roles, describing to us every corner of the Glade. Before the action and dystopian setting really kick in, it’s this focus that The Maze Runner has, seeing how these teenagers cope in a world without adults as they try to understand their place in an unimaginable world.

It’s a very character-driven story about the friendships and rivalries that come about it such an environment. Whilst Thomas may be the main protagonist, he often takes the back seat to let those in charge make the decisions and keep order. It’s these relationships that keep the audience invested. There are some really great friendships made, but also a number of intense rivalries that constantly give the story a darker edge. There is the inevitable romance sparking between Thomas and the only female of the group, Teresa, as well, but it doesn’t get in the way at this point. The focus remains on the boys working together, with the romance working more as a narrative device for readers to find out more about the Gladers’ pasts and of the outside world from which they came from.

What makes The Maze Runner such a great read is the original story and the way in which it develops, with so much constantly left to find out. With no memories, we know nothing of the world outside of the Maze; whether it has been burnt to the ground, has been taken over by a strict government, or if the Maze is simply somebody’s idea of just a bit of fun. Glimpses of the world outside through visions and piecing together of information are slowly unraveled, but it doesn’t sound promising. All we know is that this group of boys need to find a way out, if there is one at all.

This is how the novel keeps you on edge throughout. The need for answers, the cry for these young boys to find a way out, and subsequently their families, and the rushing excitement of wanting to know how the story will all piece together, ensure that you’ll be eagerly anticipating the next instalment.

Veronica Roth‘s Divergent is a well-written, contemporary young adult book with an emotional depth and a host of engaging characters. With an equal balance of action, romance, and personal character developments, the quick pace and rapid plot progression ensures that there’s constantly something happening to keep you interested.

Roth sets up her dystopian world excellently. Whilst there are many young adult dystopias around at the minute, Roth’s book manages to feel original from start to finish and, for that, she has given us a lot to look forward to with the rest of the trilogy.

Divergent exceeded my expectations for many reasons, but what gripped me most of all was the way it explored the emotion of fear. A dystopia is defined as an imagined, unpleasant place, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one, so fear has to play a big part in the society to make it believable.

George Orwell‘s 1984 has the infamous Room 101, whereas Divergent sees members of the Dauntless faction tested in a ‘fear landscape’ to see how well they deal with their personal fears. There’s quite a heavy focus on violence with the members of Dauntless constantly trying to out-do each other; from the start, Roth doesn’t sugar-coat her dystopia by shying away from conflict. The harsh realities of a dystopian world filled with fear and threat are shown to their extremes with many fight scenes and propelled action scenes as the story progresses.

And that’s how it should be. Totalitarian regimes try to act as if they’re doing things for the greater good, but maintaining control comes with many sacrifices. Here, people have their alternative motives, and they’re not nice to others just because they want to be in the same faction, showing that even friendships can be torn apart when people are fighting for what they want. Having the constant threat of Tris’ indifference being discovered running through the whole plot, as well, gives us something to fear for ourselves, engaging the audience throughout.

Of course, being based on a young adult novel, there’s the romantic distraction, too. On this rare occasion, however, the romance fits in really well (at this point, at least). In this first instalment, Four is unlikable for a large part of the story so we see him as a tough, older guy who gets close to Tris by testing her abilities and mentality. Seeing Tris and Four’s relationship develop in this way means that, whilst the romance is to be expected, it never feels too sentimental or unnecessary. And for once, it doesn’t look like a love triangle will get in the way!

Having read the rest of the trilogy at the point of writing this review, the romance doesn’t work so well in the rest of the franchise, and Tris becomes quite a selfish and somewhat unlikable character. What I loved about this first book was how determined and brave she was, but she ends up thinking far too much about herself rather than the greater good, in the end.

All of these qualities pour out of this first novel and, whilst the rest of the trilogy doesn’t quite have the same strength in character development, plot structure, or emotional engagement, Divergent is still a fantastic effort. If only the rest of the trilogy was on the same level; this could have been something brilliant.