Another fast paced sarky murder-burglary-caper with Charlie and Victoria. And set against the enchanting backdrop of Venice, how can you go wrong? It’s canals and waterways, casinos and double-crosses and high speed chases…

Love these good fun adventures with Charlie!

I don’t like the tone at the start of this novel, of the snot-rag know-it-all defensive-young-female writing; it’s really immature. It’s sadly revealing of a loud collective voice (in the generation), and as one who adores the younger generations, this isn’t inspiring much hope for the future of learned wisdom. It has a YA aim, but is far too crass for that (hence the introductory arms-length list of content warnings—making it that new ‘NA’ invented category. Ugh. No, thank you.) 

…and it’s eye-spinningly predictable…but there’s no backdrop to any of the storyline. I’m all for being dropped into a world in the midst of the action, but not so blindly, thank you. The setting is scant, almost a nonentity apart from another death-trap obstacle course or a cliff overlooking an infinite abyss and the odd shadowy tree. Lots to be assumed. Zero info upon which to construct these assumptions.

The dragons are interesting. It would be nice to hear more from them than the mouthy little self-reliant know-it-all whiner telling this story. 

The dangers are deadly. Like the worst danger on every page. But the attitude of the ones encountering the dangers is blasé and flippant. So, we don’t feel the impact. They’re always facing ‘the worst danger of my life’ or ‘the most death defying challenge’ and yet they’re worried about a history test the next day. As if writing a test is a worry when death is looming.

Who is comparing this to the Hunger Games? There’s not enough depth here to justify that. People dying left and right and I’m not batting an eyelash. When people died in THG I sat on my bed swiping tears so I could see the words on the page. I can’t yet talk about Rue…

But then….

25% in, it gets a bit addictive (if you tune yourself to this crass tone) and the tide of obnoxious characters bowls you over.

By about 40% I started to gain interest in the story; things behind the scenes also began to develop. Hints of politics and intrigue and the dragons were a vast improvement to the voices in the story. There was still far too much grappling on mats and young idealistic grappling of bodies for my liking. Yawn. Cringe. Shake head. Roll eyes. Youths. 

Overall: 

2 ⭐️ for the first 40%

3 ⭐️ 40-85%

4 ⭐️ the last 15%

3 ⭐️ rating.

I absolutely cried the whole way through this inspirational biography. What a woman…

The research is intimate and tragically honest. There is an affection drawn between the pages; we feel the deep respect of the author for Josephine Baker, and it’s more than admiration, it inspires awe in us as we go back in time and experience these treacherous wartime days in North Africa and beyond, stealing glimpses into the lesser known episodes of Baker and her fellow spies between iconic stage performances.

A beautiful tribute to an incomparable beauty. 

This is a wounded man telling his story of brokenness, pain, and deep sorrow. It is a letter to his son, in antithetical style of Maya Angelou’s letter to me (to all her daughters), and it strikes with the naked fear of a father’s warning to his beloved son against the evils of a sickly corrupted world with its twisted bent morals. He praises the beauty of the son’s mother, and remains in awe of her continued curiosity, her dreams and achievements... In vulnerability, he reveals the deep roots of his bitterness, sheds lofty ideals for hardcore pragmatism, and admits his dedication to a dogmatic hopelessness in the face of that Great (Unattainable) American Dream Lie. He doesn’t hold out hope for healing for himself and his generation, but he sees that maybe his son’s generation might hope—might have a hope—and even dares to suggest (briefly) that his son dream…

His writing always draws me in, and even here he uses beautiful language to share the worst ugliness humanity can’t seem to overcome. The fact is that between Ta-Nehisi Coates and the World the damage seems irreversible, but the suggestion is that possibly, for his son, the future may… possibly could… 

But he’ll never see it.

Update: reread this again in 2023 (*watched the Stratford, Ontario Theatre production—excellent!—with copy of the play in hand, reading along. I know. I’m a geek). The sharp tongue of Timon in his sarky accusations takes the cake, baby. This one still sits like an overlooked gem on a dusty shelf.

It’s hard to love a depressing and hopeless kind of story, and this is one of those. 

Another problem play here. It is most certainly a pitiable tragedy, but in places appears to have a satirical glimmer. I can’t see it being satire overall and throughout, as the irony is delivered in invective, the sharpest cutting sarcasm, bitter and unforgiving. There is no room for redemption within the story for characters through understanding of the irony—only destruction and hatred for all. The play seems to be warning against … against…? The enticement of wealth? The falsehood of a rich man’s friends? Does the play suggest that all friends of a rich man are not true friends—that they’re either jealous or pandering or contemptuous? And does a rich man need more wisdom in choosing friends than a poor man? The warning that unchecked generosity to one’s friends ends in greed, betrayal and disaster is loud and clear—but then Timon impoverished becomes a deranged misanthropist full of hatred and lacking an ounce of forgiveness. It brings to mind a sharp contrast of character with another entity who is loved when richly generous and hated when poor: God as King of heaven and as Christ on earth. I’m not sure Shakespeare meant the comparison, but it is clear to me that man is portrayed as incapable of responding in endless forgiving generosity the same way God is—because his wealth runs dry if he attempts to over-give pretending himself to be God-like in the power of his riches, and with the waning wealth also ebbs his sense of charity and capacity for unconditional love.

There is great insight as to the play’s ‘moral’ at the centre as delivered by Flavius, Timon’s Chief Servant:

‘O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us!

Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,

Since riches point to misery and contempt?

Who would be so mock'd with glory? or to live

But in a dream of friendship? 

To have his pomp and all what state compounds

But only painted, like his varnish'd friends?

Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart,

Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood,

When man's worst sin is, he does too much good! 

Who, then, dares to be half so kind again?

My dearest lord, bless'd, to be most accursed,

Rich, only to be wretched, thy great fortunes

Are made thy chief afflictions.’

(Highlight mine) For all characters in this play the lesson is heavy: look to God for your bounty, recognise it all comes from him, give as if giving back to God, and don’t let money be the reason for nor barometer in your friendships.

A difficult play to ‘enjoy’ but certainly a warning message needing repeated: Love not wealth nor those who crave it, for such a twisted love will be the destruction of your heart and the deterioration of your soul.

Mm. Didn’t love it, but sure glad I read it.

A wonderfully specific geographical setting that brings town and mountain to sight. The story lays the foundation for events to come, reveals past characters and histories at just the right moments, draws us down the paths of our two humorous, awkward yet noble heroes as they clash and come together and learn of true sacrifice in their journey to escape the clutches of a relentless enemy.

The plot borrows from centuries old traditions and philosophical ideas to tell of a simple girl in possession of a special gift. An intricately magical tale that aims to bring magic into balance and hope to an oppressed people.

It’s an adventure full of action, laden with politics, rich in cultural history, and told in a blend of languages. The main characters have adorable elements that endear us to them, and are both complex people with shadowy pasts which we begin to see glimpses of as the story unfolds. Some of the enemy characters could do with a bit more complexity (hoping this will come in the second book of the series).

An enthralling debut. 

This story stumbles into itself accidentally on purpose. I love the research quality elements weaved in with a fairytale fantasy story. The plot is more complex than it seems and you leave the pages still wondering on the details, mulling them over and considering the more mysterious little bits.

Bambam was a real piece of work to start—and our wee nerdy academic bookworm Emily paints him as the pretentious know-it-all gets-it-easy-as-a-man kind of character. A real charmer. Ugh. But there something about him… the lassies love him. Makes you wonder…

Emily is a bit one-sided in her many established opinions, misreading all the social cues and signals because her specky eyes are glued to a text and her emotions are all absorbed in her life’s endless research.

Fascinating stuff. 

The first 70% is witty, intelligent, engaging, and unique, and then…

…vibes of Sarah J Maas took over —and if you know me, I didn’t love that world of arsey Faeries and dumb little helpless girls who started off as warriors— no, but Emily, even if her head is in a bucket, maintained her intelligence and backbone throughout. That was a relief.

I was expecting a minor cliffhanger ending to manipulate me into putting a preorder on the next instalment—but it was a surprisingly satisfying and positive girl-power ending.

So, apart from 10% of the story in the final third, and some improbable bits against the established storyline, this was delightful all the way. 

I’ve put a reservation on #2 anyways. Can’t wait to see what comes next…

This dragged at times into religious discourse, though was painted as internal philosophising. Legit, as I’m sure it reflects much of the author’s own journey.

The assassin’s story is far from thrilling or suspenseful, and the really engaging material takes place during the time travel assignment. But this doesn’t last long.

I was expecting more of the suspense and drama offered in Rice’s previous repertoire, but it seems she lost her edge—or at least was not encouraged to let it show—with these religiously themed works. Shame.

Overall, a quick read and highly informative, if not rivetingly entertaining.

The fun story takes a very dark and serious turn in this second novel—returning to the dark intro of the first, diving deep into a tangled and twisted web of relationships wrought with tarnished histories, tapping into fantasy elements of magic and the depths of these maturing characters. 

The storytelling interludes are a nice stylistic touch. 

And the twists and turns are a rollercoaster of woes and life-threatening conflicts colliding and reaching an abrupt climax … and it would have been satisfying without the extended end at the ending. 

An adventurous 21st Century Westernised take on a blend of beautiful ancient Japanese folklore and historical stories. 

But I also *smile* liked the ending.

Emotion… the bit where he’s going to put out the eyes of the boy… I was reeling…