If you haven't read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, then it is likely you're unaware of what the story is actually about as it is often depicted differently in other mediums.

Dr Jekyll is not the sympathetic character many depictions portray him as. Instead, he is a rather introverted doctor who wonders what it would be like to act as his most base self. He is aware of what he does as Mr. Hyde and it is only after his Hyde-side starts to gain the ability to take control, unsummoned by potion, that Jekyll starts to fight for control of his body. 
This isn't the morality tale of a man with two separate personalities vying for dominance. Instead, it's a tale of a man who wanted to be able to get away with being his worst self and succeeded.

The story is also told from the perspective of those around Jekyll and not by Jekyll/Hyde himself. It's really only through the final expository letter that Jekyll takes the reigns of narration. 

There is also the issue with Stevenson (and the general Victorian era) assigning morality to a person's perceived attractiveness. Hyde is frequently described as "ugly" in a manner that implies "bad" or "evil." Hyde's physique is meant to be so hideous that there must be an underlining "deformity" to account for the repulsion others feel when looking upon him. This is obviously very ableistic and problematic, and I do recommend that if reading aloud to children that you point these issues out and discuss them.

All that said, I absolutely love this story. It's short and intriguing, and Stevenson's writing style is much less stuffy than other writers of his era.

The narration was also very good.

I listened to the audiobook via Everand.

This was a short and sweet story.

Despite very little being explained or making sense, it's a great read with some creepy imagery. 

I really liked Addy's character development, something that was well-down despite the story's short length.

I guess it is a kind of 'finding oneself' story, but I couldn't really relate to Addy's life and issues to fully appreciate that aspect of the story.

Definitely recommend it to any horror fan looking for a short but atmospheric read.

I'll be honest, I bought this book for its cover, the expectation that it would involve the Scottish sea or seaside (given the title), and because the one review I briefly looked at mentioned the story involved elements of cosmic horror, folk horror, and body horror.

So, to say I was surprised to discover it was also a touching tale of love lost and love returned would be an understatement.

I'm not really interested in romantic storylines, but this one had me hooked due to how bittersweet it was. After all, my partner always says that the only time I enjoy anything close to resembling romance is when it's wrapped up tight in tragedy. 

There's definitely elements of cosmic horror and a good deal of body horror. I struggled to find any elements of folk horror beyond the story being set in a small, seaside village.

The main character is an octogenarian, and I felt that their treatment by the author was very dignified and respectful. 

I need to mention the sweet inclusion at the end of the book, within the afterword, of the author's grandmother's memoirs. It might sound strange to include such a thing in such a book, but somehow, it just fits.

I could make a statement about the story appealing to fans of movies such as The Thing or The Blob, but that would be a very shallow and potentially misleading comparison to make.

I have to say, though, I never expected to find myself having all the feels over a story about a murderous amorphous blob and its octogenarian lover. 

I definitely recommend this book to horror fans, and I looked forward to reading more stories by this author.

A well-cited, academic read on how whitewashing in Hollywood affects Asian American representation in film and upholds white supremacy. 

More than once, I found myself having a real lightbulb moment. From small, now obvious, things like how white people who move to Asian countries are considered "expats" whilst Asian people who move to white dominate societies are considered "immigrants" to showing how postracism and "colour-blindness" reinforce white supremacy in films by disproportionately favouring white actors and white roles, Oh's insights had me re-evaluating my own biases and I now feel more capable of viewing future films with a more critical eye in regards to their treatment, or mistreatment, of race.

The first thing I noticed about this book was how similar it is in tone, pace, and humour to Weir's other book, The Martian.

This didn't bother me at all as I enjoyed The Martian, although it has left me wondering if all of Weir's protagonists are just variations of himself. 

The action is mostly cognitive. Science nerds will likely find the story really engaging, but others may find it a bit slow and uneventful. 

As for me, I really enjoyed it. I love how Weir weaves science and humour around a dire situation, and I absolutely adored the friendship sub-plot.

As for the narration, Ray Porter did a fantastic job.

I'd lost all interest in the story by chapter 23 and started speed reading and dialogue jumping just to finish it.

My enjoyment was greatly hindered by the protagonist, Ann, who I found to be very ineptly written. Her character development is poorly established, seemingly gaining new motivations and confidence out of nowhere.
She begins off as an extremely insecure character, something the author gives great focus to, likely in an attempt to build a stark comparison between start-of-story Ann and end-of-story Ann. So much focus and emphasis is given to Ann's insecurities that she initially feels more like an avatar than a person.
What character development she gains is often attributed to shallow catalysts, i.e., moving to New York, which just increases the inauthentic feel of her character. 

When added to the multiple underdeveloped and/or needless subplots, I found The Cloisters to be both uneventful and uninteresting.

Overall, The Cloister felt like the author had several good ideas but didn't know how to develop any of them, resulting in a muddle of weak subplots, poor character development, and unsatisfactory conclusions.

This book probably would have been better as a movie since the imagery was the best thing it had going for it.

It wasn't the worst book, but it wasn't great, either. It just wasn't that enjoyable to listen to.

The main character often felt poorly written, especially in regards to how she would interpret situations and respond to things. The other characters felt fairly one dimensional and often accepted situations in unlikely or inauthentic ways.

One moment, Remy has to *really* concentrate to try and figure out which room is under/above another, and the next moment, she "could find her way around with her eyes closed."

Or how she didn't recognise Mark's uncommon surname as belonging to one of Carrow House's victims, especially the *last* victim.

It just felt really inconsistent.

Also, the house itself is never really well described in regards to its interior and exterior layouts. The whole 'waves hitting the windows' thing just didn't make sense from how it was described. It wasn't just sea-spray but actual waves?

How else could it explain Lucille's body being redeposited on the side of the house.

Buildings can not withstand that sort of thing, especially not for over a hundred years. 

As for the main twist, it was on my radar from far too early on in the story for it to have any real impact. Once revealed, it also made the next twist very obvious as well.

An issue I had with the audiobook was the narrator's inability to inflect real tension or fear into the story and dialogue. As a result, there was never any real atmosphere to accompany the story. Although, I suspect the lack of atmosphere was a joint outcome of both poor narration and poor mood writing.

This book felt a little too "by-the-numbers" for me.

I'm curious to see how well this is adapted into a film as I feel like a lot of the elements that are supposed to help build a sense of unease weren't very effective in the book and I'm curious to see if they prove more effective in a visual medium.

I can see why this story has been well received by a lot of readers, but, unfortunately, it wasn't a good fit for me.

The two main reasons for this were:

1. I quickly picked what was going on,

and,

2. I have a personal dislike of books that use mental health disorders as a "gotcha" twist, especially when the author isn't  writing from a place of experience with the disorder in question. 

Reid misrepresents dissociative identity disorder and, in doing so, reinforces the stigma and stereotypes surrounding it.

For instance, people with DID do not visually perceive their Alters and do not interact with them outside of their Headspace. Visually perceiving an Alter could occur as a result of a psychotic episode involving hallucination, which may be what is occurring in the story, but regardless of whether that is the case or not, I still don't approve of the author exploiting a legitimate mental health disorder for profit.

The only positive is that the character isn't portrayed as being a danger to other people, which is a common trope when it comes to DID.

Overall, I like what Reid intended to do with creating a sense of unease from subtle interactions, but I personally don't feel like they were very successful in that regard.

I'm a big supporter of popular science and science communication books. Making scientific subjects accessible and understood by the general population is a worthy and important act.

The Triumph of Seeds is very much aimed at a general audience, which isn't a bad thing, but it does mean that people who already have an interest in the topic likely won't find anything new here.

It has a very casual tone and avoids too much scientific jargon, explaining any terms not a part of common speech. It's also uses several very US-centric stories, comparisons, and metaphores.

This book is light on science, focusing more on the historical interaction between seeds and humanity. 

Whilst the book touches on several interesting aspects of seeds, it never quite goes into enough detail to satisfy my curiosity. 

This is a good introductory book that will get readers thinking about the numerous ways that seeds, and plants, influence human culture and development but I wouldn't recommend it to folks who already possess an interest in these topics.

I alternated between reading the book and listening to the audiobook. I found the audiobook narrator's performance to be quite good.

I'm a big supporter of popular science and science communication books. Making scientific subjects accessible and understood by the general population is a worthy and important act.

The Triumph of Seeds is very much aimed at a general audience, which isn't a bad thing, but it does mean that people who already have an interest in the topic likely won't find anything new here.

It has a very casual tone and avoids too much scientific jargon, explaining any terms not a part of common speech. It's also uses several very US-centric stories, comparisons, and metaphores.

This book is light on science, focusing more on the historical interaction between seeds and humanity. 

Whilst the book touches on several interesting aspects of seeds, it never quite goes into enough detail to satisfy my curiosity. 

This is a good introductory book that will get readers thinking about the numerous ways that seeds, and plants, influence human culture and development but I wouldn't recommend it to folks who already possess an interest in these topics.

I alternated between reading the book and listening to the audiobook. I found the audiobook narrator's performance to be quite good.