Not my favourite of Meltzer's books. Somewhat too predictable, and the ending wasn't all that fulfilling. I enjoyed what the Book of Lies/Truth turned out to be, but there were too many loose ends with the main characters.

In general, it felt too much like another off-the-shelf secret-society-gone-wrong quest-for-an-ancient-artifact novel than a good thriller/mystery. More specifically, there was nothing about the novel that made me cheer or fall in love with it. I didn't get attached to any of the characters. I didn't get attached to this idea of the first murder weapon being a book. There was just nothing that made me care, so I went through the entire book just waiting to see what happened next.

Meltzer worked too hard to interweave his story idea with existing Superman history too. I like Superman, although I'm not an avid reader of his comics or any others. But the digressions into history did not entertain me; they left me unfulfilled. Overall, I continued reading the book just because I wanted to finish it, and not because I was invested in the characters or the plot.

Worth reading? Sure. I liked it. It turned out okay. Worth reading twice? No. And if you have other Brad Meltzer books to read, read those ones first.

I couldn't get into this book, unfortunately. I had a hard time empathizing with the characters that Bennett sets in 15th century England. The protagonist, Isabel, never really seems to seize the day and attempt to carve out her own destiny.

Often I say, "Not my favourite book, but if you have the time, give it a read." There's nothing about Figures in Silk to recommend itself as one of those books, however. Its historical scope is narrow: while set during the War of the Roses and involving several of the important players in that game, there are many more interesting books set during this time period. Even the details on the silk trade are lacklustre.

You could do much better than spend time reading Figures in Silk.

Fairly predictable as a mystery, Blasphemy is an interesting hypothetical progression of hysteria surrounding a fictitious particle accelerator that is suspiciously similar to the Large Hadron Collider. Preston combines a lively mix of physics, religion, and espionage to generate an exciting page-turner.

Seriously.

My favourite characters were mostly antagonists. Their outrage at the ISABELLA project was wonderfully telegraphed through both dialogue and actions; sadly, these sorts of people do exist in real life.

Unfortunately, I was disappointed by the story and its outcome. It seemed like a bit of a letdown. I could have done with a more satisfying mystery.

Shriver's use of a parallel universe structure is masterful and makes the book quite interesting. In fact, if she had not written the story in such a manner, I don't think the plot would have been as worthwhile--it would have just been another tired "should I or shouldn't I?" morality play.

My favourite aspect of the parallel universe structure was watching how characters react differently to Irina or to other characters depending on what choices she makes. For instance, the meeting between Ramsey Acton and Irina's mother goes horribly in the first universe (even though he buys her a car), but in the second universe, Irina's mother is so intrigued by Acton that she flirts with him!

This is the first I've read of Shriver's work, but her style and voice really drew me into the book. She makes some very poignant observations about life and the struggle to maintain--or endure--long-term romantic relationships. I sympathized with the main character, up to a point. Although I get that the point of the parallel universe structure was to play out two parallel possible lives without judging one superior to the other, I admit I took a side, preferring the universe in which she does not cheat on her partner.

Fortunately, it didn't matter that I picked sides, because it turns out that pretty bad things happen to Irina in either universe. Shriver's theme seems to be that "no matter what choices you make, your life is still going to suck anyway, although you can cling to the illusion of happiness if that's what makes you feel better." As a result, I can't help but get this feeling that Shriver forgot the fact that if two universe originate from a single point, they should be divergent. I realize that by keeping them parallel she allows us to compare Irina's choices in remarkably similar circumstances (for example, in both universes, Irina writes and illustrates her own children's book, it gets short-listed for an award, and she goes to the awards dinner). However, by unifying the two universes at the end, Shriver creates an ambiguous, postmodern ending that I can't enjoy.

I was ambivalent about giving this book two or three stars. Although I didn't enjoy the ending, the majority of the book was interesting and rich. Ultimately, I'm giving it three stars because Shriver is a good writer, even if I didn't end up liking her conclusion to the story.

I like historical fiction, and I like mysteries, but above all I like historical mysteries. While more familiar with Paul Doherty's work set in ancient Egypt, I still enjoyed this mystery set in early 14th century England. Thanks to Doherty's enchanting descriptions and vivid characterization, Nightshade drew me into the year 1304.

I probably have read other Hugh Corbett novels, but I can't remember them. Going off this novel alone, it's hard to get a sense of his character. We spend very little time in Corbett's head; most of the book consists of dialogue and action that doesn't involve Corbett. Still, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. However, it did leave me with this curious feeling that very little of the story was actually influenced by Corbett's actions. So much of it seemed plot driven.

The mystery itself was rather unsatisfactory. Firstly, I couldn't sympathize with the victim, so when we learn the identity of the murderer and the motive, I found myself almost thinking the murder justified. Secondly, the story felt flat for the majority of the book, with very little variation to it. The resolution, in which Corbett lectures the murderer at length as to how the murderer accomplished this crime, goes on for several pages.

As I mentioned in my first paragraph, I really enjoyed the setting and Doherty's writing. I just couldn't fall in love with the plot--it was too flat and, frankly, boring. For fans of the series, this book isn't terrible--I suspect it probably won't be one of the better ones, however. For people who are new to the Hugh Corbett series (or can't remember if they're new, like me!), start with the first book and work your way toward this one.

While the theme might be interesting, this book did not live up to my expectations. The changes the main characters underwent seemed rough and somewhat arbitrary, as if they were changing because the author wanted them to change for the purposes of the plot rather than through their own internal motivation. Tom Perrotta's writing style does nothing to rescue me from this plot-driven drivel. Don't get me wrong: this book has its moments; they are just few and far between.

The Abstinence Teacher begins by introducing us to Ruth, a divorced mom who's the sexual education teacher at the high school in this small, conservative town. She's under siege at school for wanting to teach safe sex instead of just abstinence. Meanwhile, she picks fights with her younger daughter's soccer coach, a born-again evangelical Christian, for leading the team in a prayer after a game. And she neglects her older daughter, which drives that daughter to seek meaning through--you guessed it--Christianity. Oh, and she wants to find a man. And she's friends with a gay couple.

I'm not making this up.

See, that's my problem with this novel: it's too contrived. I say too contrived because I realize that most novels, especially ones with overt thematic agendas like this one, need to be contrived to an extent. Perrotta has gone further than that, however, because he weaves sexuality into every aspect of the book and uses stereotypes like "the gay couple" to advance his theme. Others may not have a problem with this, but I found it awkward and artificial.

After getting to know Ruth, suddenly the book switches cameras to follow her daughter's soccer coach, Tim. Tim has problems: a former drug addict and reformed alcoholic, he credits Jesus with his salvation. Good so far--pretty believable. But he just can't shake Ruth from his mind, and eventually temptation rears its ugly head (heads?), forcing him to take advice from the spirited evangelical pastor of their local uber-conservative church.

Pastor Dennis is a great character, actually. Perrotta makes it clear that Dennis has a radical agenda on his mind and isn't above using radical means to advance it. It also helps set Pastor Dennis up as the real antagonist, thus allowing us to sympathize with Tim and his struggle to discern some sort of "truth" from the mess of life.

We experience a major portion, if not the majority of the book, following Tim's perspective before jumping back to Ruth, and then ultimately interspersing Ruth- and Tim-centric chapters. This works well, allowing us to see how each perceives the other and how each interprets shared experiences.

Unfortunately, Perrotta has certain other idiosyncrasies that made it hard for me to enjoy his writing. He has a tendency to introduce every single minor character with an appositive that sums them up in a trite little stereotype. I started noticing this about halfway through, and then it annoyed me for the rest of the book. Sometimes minor characters are just minor characters, Tom. We don't need to know about their favourite sexual positions....

Alas, it's an interesting concept, and one that is apparently relevant in contemporary American society. Yet I just could not enjoy it. I suspect, however, that others may like the book for the very reason I disliked it, so your mileage may vary.

Overall, the word I'd use to describe this book is "shallow." Clarke and Pohl, two big names in SF, have managed to take two interesting concepts (Fermat's Last Theorem and alien sterilization of Earth) and turn them into a boring book. It's as if they said one day, "Well, we've succeeded at everything else in literature; now we have to succeed at writing a bad book!"

My major problem with the book is the lack of any consequences, or really, any conflict at all. At points the story threatens to inject a conflict--such as when Ranjit becomes an unwitting accomplice to pirates and subsequently spends two years being tortured in prison. For a moment, I thought that might produce some genuine unhappiness that could mar this otherwise oppressively upbeat book. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Even toward the end, tragedy loomed on at least three separate occasions, yet somehow everything turned out all right. It's not that I have a problem with happy endings; I loves me a good happy ending. But happiness without struggle against adversity is hollow. I've read much better science fiction than this--this book feels like it was written for a fourteen-year-old as a "My first science fiction novel"--it's patronizing.

Our "protagonist", if indeed we can call him that, Ranjit, stumbles through his life without ever having to make any important decisions. Everything just sort of falls serendipitously into place. Oh, and along the way he discovers a miraculously short proof to Fermat's Last Theorem. Meanwhile, alien overlords have sent alien minions to sterilize Earth of dangerous humanity. But it's OK, because the overlords change their minds and then the minions befriend humanity.

As with the possibilities of tragedy I mentioned above, the book tempts us with the prospect of a meaningful theme when it touches upon the dangerous nature of an EMP-like weapon controlled by "the Big Three"--Russia, China, and the United States. Will this lead to an Orwellian future in which these Big Three control the only military forces on the planet? And will first contact with an alien species ironically lead to all-out planetary war even as the countries of humanity approach global peace?

Nah. It's much easier to just tell us in an epilogue that everything worked out fine, and thirteen thousand years everything was still going fine.

I'd have to say that even [b:The Da Vinci Code|968|The Da Vinci Code (Robert Langdon, #2)|Dan Brown|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1303252999s/968.jpg|2982101] better integrated an esoteric academic subject than this book. I understand that not everyone loves math as much as me, so I tolerate the explanations of Fermat's Last Theorem. But it wasn't even interesting. It had no relevance to the plot, because there was no plot. And since this book had Arthur C. Clarke's name on the cover, this has been the cause of severe disappointment for me!

I picked this up from the library hoping it'd be about a plucky protagonist with a quirky attitude who would stop at nothing to save the day. Well, I was right, but not in the way I was expecting.

I seem to have stumbled upon the ninth novel in a series of novels intended for an audience composed primarily of people who are not me. By which I mean, I didn't like this book all that much, but most of my objections are based on personal taste and not on the book itself. If you've enjoyed previous Miss Julia books, or books in a similar vein, you'll probably like this one. I'm just not all that captivated by the machinations of a small town, its impending evil developer, and the relationships among the residents of Abbotsville.

Aside from my personal tastes, however, there were some aspects of the book I disliked. It felt rushed, especially toward the end, where the numerous plotlines began to collide in a wibbly-wobbly fashion. The protagonist's mood seems to vacillate with remarkable speed as she changes her plans several times over, attempting to compensate for every new iota of information she receives. While this may be prudent in real life, it's distracting in fiction.

The characters are cardboard cutouts, as stereotypical as they come. The plot is predictable and plodding at times. However, this is more typical of the entire genre in which this novel resides, so perhaps you won't mind this if you already read this series as a matter of course (or you'll simply think I'm crazy and ignore me).

The flashback is the weakest of all foreshadowing, and it is the device that ruined this book for me. It's a shame too, because Thomas H. Cook uses other foreshadowing as well--hints about the deadliest sin being pride, allusions to the consequences similar characters faced in great literary works. The flashbacks were confusing at best and disruptive to the pace of the story at worst. I don't mind so much if the entire story is a flashback set within a frame story, or if there are flashbacks to a single period of time. But in this case, Cook employs flashbacks to several different periods in the protagonist's life, and this detracted from my enjoyment of the book.

Most of the characters were flat, without much to recommend them. There are a few exceptions, of course--the main character is three-dimensional, if increasingly paranoid. Eddie Miller has depths to him, the exploration of which becomes one of the central pillars of the plot. In a way, the flatness of the material antagonists, such as Dirk Littlefield, serve as a counterpoint to the turmoil within the main character, emphasizing that the true tragedy is a psychological one, preying on the mind and not the body.

My overall impression of this book is that Cook deftly plays on his themes. The struggle is interesting, if not very intense, although toward the end I felt a distinct lack of sympathy toward the protagonist. However, the book itself felt slow, and the prose style was mediocre. While it was not a waste of time, I'm not sorry that I'm finished it either.

What originally began as a three-star book quickly became a four-star book as Fiona Buckley plunged me into a wonderful, immersive mystery set in Elizabethan England. This is my first Ursula Blanchard mystery, but I definitely want to read more. It has everything one could demand from a mystery: high stakes, complex antagonists, potential for tragedy, and a daring last-minute attempt to set things aright. Likewise, it satisfies my desire for a good piece of historical fiction into which I can sink my teeth. Elizabethan England is one of my favourite milieux, and Buckley captures the religious, political, and social turmoil from the perspective of an educated woman.

My first impression of the protagonist was that she complained far too much and could be a touch dramatic. But I enjoyed her frank evaluations of other people and her ability to plot and reason. Buckley handles the first person perspective well; Ursula provides tantalizing foreshadowing that made me turn page after page. Thanks to her narration, I empathized with her feelings regarding the plight of her ward and the plot to free Mary Stuart.

As for the mystery, it was very entertaining. Buckley manages to mix in just the right ratio of predictability to twists to keep me reading. Mysteries that are entirely too predictable are no fun. However, it's always nice to be able to see one or two things coming, heightening one's anticipation for the final confrontation.

And I certainly was not disappointed! The climax of this book was one of the most satisfying I've read in awhile. The protagonist pulls the "ol' switcheroo" while her ward is in danger, showing a commendable determination and strength of character. A couple of predictable developments and a few twists later, the story resolves and the mystery has been explained. I feel neither cheated nor patronized; in fact, it was an excellent ride.