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theirresponsiblereader's Reviews (607)
adventurous
dark
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
It’s been a few months (if we’re told specifically, I missed it) since Dead Man’s Grave, but not too long. Tam Hardie’s in prison for his crimes, his wife and kids are out of the country, and his syndicate is in trouble from without and within. The Policing Standards Reassurance Team, now established, is still trying to find Hardie’s remaining contact(s) in the police. On the personal side, Max Craigie’s wife has moved back in with him, and things are going well.
Basically, things are in a good place. This means it’s time for things to happen—a fisherman goes missing on a routine fishing trip (well, a routine something anyway), not long after that, an intelligence officer with the National Crime Agency commits suicide—and the only witness’s notes go missing, too. And then there’s another (apparent) suicide. There’s almost no reason for anyone to see a link between them—but once Max Craigie is shown the link, he’s able to convince the rest of his team and soon will get more proof.
This is where things get really dicey—and the Team is immersed in a case involving drugs, murder, corrupt officials—and at least one criminal in their own midst.
Characters
In the previous book, we got a pretty good handle on DS Max Craigie and DC Janie Calder. In this book, we get to know their boss, DI Ross Fraser better as he’s able to take a greater leadership role (since it’s not an off-the-books investigation anymore) and as we see him deal with problems in his home life.
We also get introduced to a new member of their team, and get to know her fairly well. I liked the fact that we didn’t come into this book with a greatly expanded team, and only added someone after this book’s action had started—it helps the readers to connect with everyone, and it’s also a nice touch of realism, if the team expands too quickly, it’d be more difficult to keep it to those who can be trusted.
Policing the Police
Max and his team operate far differently from the other fictional Scottish detective looking into Police Corruption that I’m familiar with—Malcolm Fox. There’s no way that Fox in his role with Complaints and Conduct would pursue a case this way (although by the end of his time with them, that had started to change, and he might be more open to it).
The Policing Standards Reassurance Team is a band of mavericks, or at least operate as a collective maverick—going back to their inception. They seem more effective running that way—although I do wonder about realism (for those who care about such things—and it’s more exciting to read about than a bunch of people being careful about paperwork.
So often reading what Max and Janie are going through, I wondered how they trust anyone in the Police service. It almost seems like luck when they have an operation go well without someone having leaked something to their target. Does that take a toll on people? I wonder if Lancaster will deal with that in the future.
So, what did I think about The Blood Tide?
It is really hard to talk about this in any kind of detail—the twists and reveals start early on and I fear I may have said a bit too much already.
I will say as someone who’s been reading Lancaster from the beginning, that it’s great to see his growth as an author—the writing, the characterization, the details in The Blood Tide is leagues beyond what his debut displayed. And I enjoyed his debut, and would’ve kept reading him if he kept producing books like it. It’s just so much easier to do when they’re as good as this one.
Along the same lines, there’s growth to this series—as ought to be expected. Dead Man’s Grave was about establishing this world, these characters, and their mission. Now we get to see them in action, we’re ready to see them at work, in danger, and taking on bigger challenges.
Do I recommend The Blood Tide? You bet—a good author getting better at his craft, a handful of strong characters, and a plot that’ll keep you guessing as it ratchets up the tension. Grab both of the DS Max Craigie thrillers and you’ll be in for a good time. The third book is due this autumn, which is too far away for my tastes.
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
If you have ever prepared for a siege in two days, then you know what the next few days were like. If you haven’t, then you probably don’t. Well…a big formal wedding is about the same (and because we do cakes, I’ve been on the periphery of a few), except that if things go wrong in a siege you’ll all die horribly, and in formal weddings, the stakes are much higher.
What’s A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking About?
Mona’s a 14-year-old orphan, working in her aunt’s bakery. She’s also a magic-user. Her forte is magic involving baked goods and dough. Sure, that seems like an odd thing to have as a focus of one’s magic abilities, but in this world, it really isn’t. One of Mona’s acquaintances can reanimate dead horses. Nothing else, just dead horses. I guess what I’m saying is that atypical magical specializations are typical for this world.
Mona isn’t exactly a powerhouse either, she possesses enough magic to do a few tricks (making gingerbread men dance) and give a little extra something to her baking—her aunt won’t let her rest on that and actually has to learn to be a good baker while she’s at it.
Despite not being that powerful, Mona finds herself targeted by someone who seems to be killing every mage they can find. One thing leads to another, as they tend to do, and soon Mona finds herself at the forefront of an effort to defend her Duchess and their city-state against an invading army.
Caveat Lector (or Auditor)
The very best thing about being a baker is watching somebody bite into a blueberry muffin or a fresh slice of sourdough dripping with butter and seeing them close their eyes and savor the taste. You’re making their lives better, just a little tiny bit.
You know the rule, never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry? That applies to this book, too. The number of breads, pastries, cookies, and other assorted baked goods described and celebrated in these pages is unusually high for a fantasy novel. But probably about par for a novel with the word “baking” in the title. If you’re hungry—especially if you’ve been restricting carbs for whatever reason—you’re going to be in trouble.
This is not a reason to avoid the book, it’s just a friendly heads up. Eat well before diving in, or have some good snacks on hand.
Patricia Santomasso
This isn’t one of those audiobooks where I’m going to say that the narration elevated the text—Kingfisher’s prose doesn’t need it. But I can easily imagine her doing that for other books.
That said, her narration practically oozes charm. I could’ve listened for twice as long and been just as entertained with her work. She infused Mona with the right combination of timidity, determination, and spunk (and, sure, fear) to bring her to life in the narration.
So, what did I think about A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking?
I’d picked this book up a handful of times over the last year or so, but hadn’t found the time to work it in. Then my library added the audiobook to their digital collection and that took care of that issue. I really should’ve made the time for this last year (or the year before).
In very many ways this was a pretty standard fantasy story, and most of the story beats were just what you’d think they would be. But I didn’t care about that for a second. The execution is what counts—and Kingfisher’s execution won the day. Add in the very different magic system (or at least a very different application of a magic system) and you’ve got yourself a humdinger.
A Wizard’s Guide had heart, charm, and humor—it wasn’t non-stop jokes, but the narrative voice could make you think it was. The moving and affecting parts were moving and affecting, and the rest of the time I was probably grinning. This was a completely entertaining way to spend a few hours, you should check it out.
challenging
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
As the two towers fell, I was standing in my pajamas, staring at the TV, and I realized our lives had forever changed. There was a permanent fork in the road for my generation. A disruption in the timeline. A disturbance in the Force. For us, there would always be a pre—9/11 and a post—9/11 world. A few hours earlier, I had been a twenty-year-old senior still trying to figure out his major and serve as a board member of the Muslim Student Association of UC Berkeley. Instantly, I was transformed into an accidental activist, a global representative of 1.8 billion Muslims worldwide and a walking Wikipedia of 1,400 years of all things Islam.
I have to be perfect, because any flaw, mistake, errant word, or quote can and will be used against me and all my people in the court of public opinion. On the drop of a dime, I have to be an expert on the following topics: Islam, Quran, the Prophet Muhammad, Sharia, Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, India, Hamas, Hummus, Hezbollah, Arabic, Agrabah, Afghanistan, Al Qaeda, Al Aqsa, Aladdin, Salman Khan the Bollywood Actor, Salman Khan of the Khan Academy, and everything in between. I have to be able to explain them to a skeptical national audience, being sure not to say anything too radical or extreme, because that one mistake will be emblazoned on me like a scarlet letter and be used to beat up this thing called the “Muslim world.”
“Go back to where you came from, you terrorist!”
This is just one of the many warm, lovely, and helpful tips that Wajahat Ali and other children of immigrants receive on a daily basis. Go back where, exactly? Fremont, California, where he grew up, but is now an unaffordable place to live? Or Pakistan, the country his parents left behind a half-century ago?
Growing up living the suburban American dream, young Wajahat devoured comic books (devoid of brown superheroes) and fielded well-intentioned advice from uncles and aunties. (“Become a doctor!”) He had turmeric stains under his fingernails, was accident-prone, suffered from OCD, and wore Husky pants, but he was as American as his neighbors, with roots all over the world. Then, while Ali was studying at University of California, Berkeley, 9/11 happened. Muslims replaced communists as America’s enemy #1, and he became an accidental spokesman and ambassador of all ordinary, unthreatening things Muslim-y.
Now a middle-aged dad, Ali has become one of the foremost and funniest public intellectuals in America. In Go Back to Where You Came From, he tackles the dangers of Islamophobia, white supremacy, and chocolate hummus, peppering personal stories with astute insights into national security, immigration, and pop culture. In this refreshingly bold, hopeful, and uproarious memoir, Ali offers indispensable lessons for cultivating a more compassionate, inclusive, and delicious America.
The Universality of Humor
Like with Native Americans in Nesteroff’s We Had a Little Real Estate Problem and Soviet-era Russians in Grechishkin’s Everything is Normal, one thing that Ali talks about is how often people are surprised that Muslims have senses of humor, that they enjoy laughing. A lot of that comes down to media representation—in the news, in our TV and movies, the typical depiction of Muslims is of angry, violent men—or those suffering because of them—or those in the middle of a serious religious observance. We don’t get to see a lot of people relaxing at home, enjoying a meal, or just hanging out.
I’m not sure why this is so hard for people to wrap their heads around—people of all backgrounds laugh. People find things funny. People are funny. These three books (and others, sure, but these are those I’ve talked about here) help readers remember that there’s a shared humanity in laughter (remembering that what’s funny varies a little bit from culture to culture), and I have to think that we’d all be better off to remember that and look for it as a starting point.
Cross-Cultural Hardship
Before he began to get into the details of the hardships that his cultural, ethnic, and religious background would bring on him in our culture, he talks about a challenge that crosses ethnic, religious, geographic, and political lines—he’s a southpaw.
True, there’s a particular accentuation for Muslims, but at the root is the inconvenience that all left-handed people put up with every day. I thought it was a rhetorically nice touch because it makes him universally relatable—it was also pretty funny.
So, what did I think about Go Back to Where You Came From?
Let me start by saying, I had no idea who Wajahat Ali was before this book—I may have seen him on a news show or five as a talking head—but, like most of those, he didn’t make enough of an impression for me to remember his name*. So I didn’t come into this book with any preconceived notions of what to expect, I wasn’t a fan already (or a detractor). All I knew was that Paul from Paul’s Picks had very positive things to say about the book (as he should have).
* I will absolutely take notice next time I see him in that role, however.
This was a great mix of memoir, social commentary, and satire—with a little sprinkling of a more general humor thrown in. The way he shifted between the genres was fairly seamless and quite effective—his own story (and that of his parents) were good illustrations of the societal ills he wanted to point to, and also it worked well occasionally as argumentum a minore ad maius.
I found myself reading large sections of this to whatever family member happened to be around when I read it (or I’d bookmark a section I thought someone might find almost as interesting as I did to read at them later)—there’s just so much good to be found here. The material about 9/11 and its aftermath was the most poignant—which kind of feels like a gimme sometimes, and some authors shouldn’t milk it. Given Ali’s subject matter, however, it was something he had to discuss and it was the book’s most powerful material.
Ali’s story is the kind that Americans love to tell and hear about success—even if his telling points to many of the flaws in our society. Through grit, determination, perseverance, and endurance, Ali pushes through all sorts of cultural, societal, legal, medical, and circumstantial challenges to arrive where he is. Because he believes in what we can be as a people, based on our (incredibly inconsistently applied and demonstrated) ideals and aspirations. It’s the kind of story we need to see, hear, and read more of.
Go Back to Where You Came From is a challenging read, it will make you uncomfortable, but it should also give you a little glimmer of hope. I strongly encourage you to read this.
emotional
inspiring
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Ban This Book About?
Amy Anne is a big reader—to those who don’t know her that well, that’s all they know about her. She spends a lot of time every day in her school library—they appear to have set certain rules because of her (there’s a limit to how often she can check out certain books in a row). One day she goes to check out her favorite book, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, yet again, but it’s not there. Not because someone checked it out, but because one mother of another fourth-grader has got the school board to remove it—and a few others—from the library.
Now, it’s been a few decades since I read From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, but I don’t remember it really being the kind of book that ends up on banned lists. But maybe I’m naive—is this really a challenged book? I can understand why some groups want other books removed from required reading lists, etc.–I almost never agree, but I can see where someone might get the idea.
Also, I should note that this really does seem to be set in/around 2017 from some of the other titles, even if the book that sets the whole thing off is from 1968.
Amy Anne is livid, she’s confused, she’s bewildered—why would someone do this? She sets out to go to the next school board meeting, gets her parents to rearrange their schedule to get her there, writes up a statement, and then…is far too timid to read it, leaving the school librarian, Mrs. Jones, as the only opposition. (I’m less than impressed with her father’s reaction to this, but I understand it)
Amy Anne is mad at herself, mad at the school board, mad at that mother—and sets out to read every book on the list (although she changes her mind when she sees that one of them is a non-fiction work about s-e-x). A friend has access to one of the books, and she spends her savings on a couple of others. Apparently, Public Libraries aren’t an option? Her friends want to read those, and soon most of that challenged list is circulating in her social circle. Then the same mother gets another batch of books pulled—and Amy adds more to her list.
Eventually, she’s running a small, independent—and covert—lending library from her locker. Naturally, that can only last so long, or the book would be missing some conflict…and well, enough said about that.
The Role of Parents
The presence and role of parents in MG novels (YA novels, too) is tricky—especially when it comes to the protagonists doing things that aren’t approved of—for good or ill. Do you write the parents off somehow, do you make them incredibly authoritarian so that part of what the protagonists are rebelling against is that authority, do you get them to buy into/cheer on the activities? Those are, by and large, the options that authors seem to have to choose from. Few do what Gratz accomplished—you make them human, with regular strengths and flaws, supportive, but exercising actual authority in responsible ways.
The other aspect of parental authority in this book revolves around the reading material of the students. Amy Anne and Mrs. Jones are constantly repeating that parents should decide if their kids should read something for recreation. But the decision of one parent shouldn’t dictate what other kids can read. That’s an important distinction—and one this parent can get behind.
That Reminds Me:
Actually, Mrs. Jones and the kids support the idea that the librarian/school board/administration can choose to pull a book from circulation or not even let it start in the first place—but there’s a process. It shouldn’t just be one/a few parents demanding a book be removed—there needs to be consideration, deliberation, and thought involved. And then a book can be pulled—one at a time, after a process.
Gratz and his characters never call for an “all books are appropriate” approach, they just want it to be a careful process with input from various parties. I think that’s important to remember (and practice).
How About the Narration?
Bahni Turpin rocked this narration. I totally believed I was listening to a 4th grader recount the events of her life. She did a good job with the supporting characters, too—but she shined when she was giving us things from Amy Anne’s perspective. She captured the frustration of someone who was always fighting against her impulses to say what she wanted to say rather than what she thought was the right thing to say, or didn’t feel brave enough to do the right thing publicly. Yes, that’s clear in the text, but Turpin delivers it so that you don’t just know that’s what Amy Anne’s going through—you feel it and you believe it.
There’s a joy to Amy Anne and a sadness to her, and Turpin delivered the goods on both aspects.
I admit to a little confusion
Early on, Amy Anne rationalizes that it’s not the school lending them—these books haven’t been banned from the premises, it’s just that the school can’t provide them. A lot of the books in her library are privately owned, I don’t see why she gets in trouble for having and circulating them.
There are other, clear legal infractions involved—and I agree with the administration for coming down on her for that. But the rest? That feels a little wrong, and Amy Anne’s parents should have fought that.
So, what did I think about Ban This Book?
Beyond the message about banning books, this book is a celebration of what books can do—how they can inspire as well as entertain, comfort those who need it, rattle the perspective when necessary—to affect the reader in ways they can’t fully articulate or understand. All of that and more. The core of this book comes from the love Amy Anne has for some books, and that love grows to more as soon as she’s exposed to it.
I loved that—as well as the message about not allowing the conscience of one parent dictate to them all. The solution that Amy Anne and her friends come up with for the final encounter with the school board was pretty clever, and I really liked the way that Gratz set up and resolved the major hurdle to their plan.
Yes, it’s a little simple. Yes, the solution is a little pat and easy. Yes, the whole thing comes across like an after-school special (or whatever the contemporary equivalent is—I’d say a Disney Channel movie, but I guess that’s not a thing. A made-for-Disney+ movie?). But it’s not trying to be careful and nuanced, it’s a story directed at 8-11 year-olds (my guess), trying to inspire them in a certain direction as well as entertain. I got a very strong Lemonade Mouth-feel from this (the movie, not the book—I never got around to reading that), I realize that’s a reference that only works for readers/parents of a certain age, but I don’t know anything more contemporary.
It’s a celebration of freedom, of literature, of learning from your mistakes and sticking up for what you believe (even if you do it poorly at first). It’s about finding the courage to do the right thing, even when not expedient.
I’m guessing it was the apparent upsurge in School Book Bans that led my library to getting this audiobook, and I’m glad they did. It’s something that people should be reading about/thinking about/talking about. Hopefully, this book kicks off some of that in our area.
I really enjoyed this and figure most book lovers will, too.
funny
tense
fast-paced
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Revenge of the Beast About?
At the end of The Beast and The Bethany, Bethany, Ebenezer, and Claudette (the Wintlorian purple-breasted parrot) were sure that The Beast was vanquished and they could start living their lives in a new direction.
They’re de-Beasting their lives—getting rid of just about everything that The Beast magicked into existence for Ebenezer over the centuries—and they’re devoting their energies to do-gooding. Bethany needs to make up to people for all her pranks, and Ebenezer has a lot of karmic debt to pay off (and Bethany’s pushing him). He also is doing what he can to stay off the radar of the organization that’s been chasing the Beast for more centuries than Ebenezer’s been alive. That’ll be easier to do without magic items laying around.
But as the title of this book suggests, they were wrong. The Beast isn’t done yet, and he’s out to get back at those three—and anyone else who happens to be in the general vicinity while he’s at it.
Their do-gooding efforts stumble, the items they tried to divest themselves of start to behave strangely—and dangerously—for their new owners. No matter what they attempt to do, something goes wrong. It’s time for some drastic measures.
Comparatively Speaking, are We Sure The Beast is the Worst?
There are a handful of new characters introduced in this book, which helps in a few ways—it shows how much Bethany has changed Ebenezer’s life by expanding his social world, and it adds a little flavor to the series. But there are three new characters* in particular I want to single out: The Cussocks. Mr. and Mrs. Cussock run the theater that plays a significant role in the novel and their daughter, Gloria. Gloria reminds me of the TV version of Nellie Oleson, without the redeeming characteristics. Nellie knew how she should act and just didn’t care. I don’t think Gloria knows how she should act, she’s pure id. Once you get to know her parents, a bit, you start to see why. I’m not going to get into it, but just know that Gloria lives in the same orphanage that Bethany used to live in, because they just can’t stand her (and have no problem letting everyone—including her—know that).
* I’m pretty sure they’re new, they may have played minor roles in the first book. But I don’t think so, and I’m too lazy to check.
It’d be easy in a book like this to make The Beast the epitome of all evil, and every human and animal nothing more than a potential victim. Bethany and Ebenezer have some restitution to do and need to reform, but they’re trying. But as long as people like the Cussocks are around, the reader has to remember that people are capable of the same kind of evil as The Beast is. They don’t have magic to help, and they don’t get their sustenance from eating humans—which almost makes it worse, you could make a pragmatic argument for a lot of what The Beast does. But the Cussocks don’t have that going for them.
(but to be clear, all four of them are truly reprehensible characters)
True Horror: The Food
Sure, there’s a magic being eating people, producing magical items, and inflicting all sorts of psychological damage; a possibly sociopathic little girl inflicting pain on her peers; and a centuries-old man wandering around in this book. But the true horror? The food designed by Bethany and others.
Bethany considers herself a sandwich artist. No, she’d probably be inclined to add the “e,” she’s a sandwich artiste. Some of the flavor combinations she comes up with would make me run start swallowing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans by the handful without wondering/caring what flavors they’d be. They’re fully at the intersection of incredibly imaginative and incredibly unappealing.
It’s the kind of humor that an MG reader is practically guaranteed to enjoy.
Illustrations
I’m pretty sure neither of these books would be as successful without the contributions of Isabelle Follath. Her illustrations—sort of a mash-up of Eugene Yelchin, Quentin Blake, and Jules Feiffer—are attractive, eye-catching, and augment the text without being a distraction. I made more notes than usual about liking the artwork in this novel. Rather than further demonstrate how poorly I describe art, I’ll just say that her stuff is great and leave it at that.
So, what did I think about Revenge of the Beast?
I know when I posted about The Beast and The Bethany, I was aware that it was the first of a series, but I have to tell you, I thought it made a great stand-alone book. So much so that I forgot there were more books to come, I got this one primarily out of curiosity about how Meggitt-Phillips would approach this, rather than a curiosity about the characters or story. I was satisfied with where the first book left things.
That said, if you’re going to write an unnecessary sequel, this is the way you want to do it. Give some good backstory about the antagonist and one of the protagonists, and help the reader understand how they got started five centuries ago. Then while you’re doing that, show how everything you thought happened at the end of the first book wasn’t at all what was going on—so we need to read the sequel. It was really well-conceived in that way. But given the two that exist, we definitely need a third (which is, thankfully, on the way)
I think it’s best if I think of this in two different ways, it’s a creative way to tell this story, the morals are there for those who want to see them (again), but are easily ignored if that’s what the reader prefers. The humor is a bit subtler this time out, but it’s just as funny if you’re looking for it. I was honestly surprised by a couple of plot developments, too. But…it just didn’t work as well for me as its predecessor. Like I said with And Your Enemies Closer, a lot of that is likely just the way second novels in a trilogy strike me. But I don’t think it’s all of the reason why. I think it’s probably a function of separating (for good and understandable reasons of plot) Ebenezer and Bethany for so much of the book. The series is stronger when they’re together.
On the other hand, if I got this book when I was in Fifth Grade? I’d really dig it, and it would earn a spot in my Roald Dahl-Daniel M. Pinkwater-Norton Juster re-read cycle, right alongside The Beast and The Bethany, and I’d get it read at least four more times before the third volume is released. Since that guy is the one that Meggitt-Phillips is writing for, not the guy with four adult children—I figure that’s good enough.
At least three of my four kids would’ve loved this when they were the right age (and it’s possible that the fourth one would’ve, too)—and I’m willing to bet that whatever parents are reading this would find similar results in their homes. They should pick this up and see.
inspiring
fast-paced
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Mike Nero and the Superhero School About?
Mike Nero has had to leave his school, for reasons not explained—but we are told he’s worried his new school would be like it, and it’s suggested he didn’t have friends there. But hopefully, that’s going to change here.
His parents accompany him to the first day of school where he’s met by the principal, Mr. Joseph, and taken on a tour around the school and where he meets a handful of his new classmates and peers.
Mike meets one child with Autism, a blind boy, a few deaf kids—and so on. He asks some questions of them, and gets answered by them or Mr. Joseph. Mike takes all this in the way you hope someone would (and too rarely see)—he’s not just a good example, it turns out that Mike has challenges of his own to deal with.
The Illustrations
I was impressed by the illustrations—they’re the level of cute that you want in a Picture Book while the people look like people, not cartoons—and the illustrations are clear about the various challenges that these characters have. The colors are vibrant and realistic at the same time, too.
A couple of those sentences seem redundant, but I guess I’m trying to stress the nice combination and balance here.
I really appreciated when I went back through looking at the pictures how Stephen hinted at the reveal about Mike throughout but held off until the right moment to fully show it.
So, what did I think about Mike Nero and the Superhero School?
The twist that the book puts on the conditions and diagnoses the children have is that this equips them with superpowers—the students who use sign language are seen as having a special language, the blind boy has a “magic cane,” and so on. It helps Mike understand his new peers and frames the way Mr. Johnson wants him to think about his own challenges. The more I think about it, the more I like it.
I thought the moral was maybe laid on a little thick. But I’m not sure that’s true, I doubt the target audience would agree with me—in fact, they might need it that thick. So I guess this is a warning for parents, be ready for this, but the kid you read this with won’t mind.
This was a sweet read, I liked it and would encourage parents/teachers/etc. to grab this.
adventurous
lighthearted
medium-paced
“Adelaide. Now that’s a name you don’t hear very often. I think it’s old German by way of French. How do you do, Adelaide? My name is Minerva, after the Roman goddess of wisdom. I have a theory that interesting people have interesting names. Are you interesting?”
After taking a moment to think about it, Addie said, “I’m kind of working on it.”
“Good answer,” said Minerva Swift. “I’m working on it too.”
What’s How to Save a Superhero About?
Ten-year-old Addie and her mom have one of those relationships where you’re not sure who the parent is a lot of the time. While it’s clear that Tish is devoted to her daughter, she’s not really devoted to anything else—especially her frequently changing employers in frequently changing towns. Since her mother died, she just hasn’t been able to hang on to anything, and Addie’s been emotionally untethered since then, too.
Now they’re staying with another one of Addie’s aunts and Tish is working at the Happy Valley Village Retirement Community on a one-month trial. After school, Addie joins a couple of other children of employees and spends time with some of the residents.
One resident, in particular, is a favorite of Addie’s—and her mother seems to be the only employee that he seems to tolerate. Mr. Norris has been having trouble with falling, so he’s in the HVV until he can regain his stability.
One of Addie’s friends becomes convinced that Mr. Norris is a super-hero—and there have been some strange things happening around him—Addie can’t believe it. Another friend is convinced that he’s a retired Professional Wrestler. Addie’s not so sure about that one, either.
The three friends do what they can to get to the bottom of Mr. Norris’ identity (over his strident and cantankerous objections), and find themselves in the middle of other adventures with some of the other residents while they’re at it.
So, what did I think about How to Save a Superhero?
This was an okay book. It did everything it needed to do and was well told. I never really connected to any of the characters, or any of the rest of it. I can’t tell you what it was missing, but it seemed to be missing that spark.
It was enjoyable enough—just enough—and it’s likely that the target audience will find it more entertaining than I did. So, sure, I’d recommend it for a middle-grade reader, but I wouldn’t necessarily tell anyone older they’d enjoy it.*
* That sounds harsh to me, I’m not trying to be…
adventurous
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
What’s The Hobbit About?
I suppose it’s theoretically possible that in 2022 someone will be reading a book blog and not know the basics of this, right?
So a Hobbit (Bilbo Baggins) is recruited (quite presumptuously) by the wizard Gandalf to join a band of thirteen dwarves on their odyssey to sneak back into their territory which had been taken over by the dragon, Smaug. Their goal is to steal back the treasure (particularly an heirloom of the king’s family, the Arkenstone). There’s really no reason to think that Bilbo, who hates the idea of adventure and just wants to stay in his comfortable home all day (like 99.9997% of Hobbits) will make a capable burglar. But Gandalf insists on it, overrules the objections of the dwarves, and tricks Bilbo into accepting the role.
Along the way, they have various adventures—in addition to some nasty geographical features, they meet goblins, giants, trolls, freakishly huge talking spiders, a ware-bear, elves, and several others. Some of those are allies, many are not. Eventually, they reach the Lonely Mountain, face off against the dragon, find themselves in the middle of The Battle of Five Armies, and then (as the title implies) Bilbo goes back home.
The Narration
I saw that Serkis recorded this and almost jumped immediately—but I made myself hold off until he did the follow-up trilogy. Well, that happened last fall, so after I wrapped up my Alex Verus re-listen, I moved on to this series. What a delicious listen!
Serkis does a great job bringing individual characters to life—and keeping them individual. A couple of times I wondered if he was doing a McKellen impression with Gandalf, but I talked myself out of it—ditto for the other characters. I thought his Smaug was excellent, too.
The moment that [name redacted out of habit, can’t imagine I’m spoiling anything] turns on Bilbo was so well done that I felt something like surprise while I was waiting for it.
But the big question for me going in was how was he going to approach Gollum. Would he be prevented from duplicating the voice/characterization from the films in this format, because it wasn’t owned by some film company or something? Or was Serkis just sick and tired of doing it and wanted to try another approach? Nope and nope. His audiobook Gollum sounded just like the movie Gollum and I could’ve listened to that section of the book on a loop for few times through. I just loved it. It almost didn’t matter what he did the rest of the time.
I typically listen to audiobooks at more than 1.0x speed—it varies from book to book, narrator to narrator, genre to genre—what speed I use. Frequently, too, I’ll start at something like 1.2 and then work my way up as I get used to a narrator/book. Not with this one—I wanted to soak in the performance. I don’t think I made it more than a paragraph or two before I slowed to 1.0 and kept it there the whole time, I just really got into his performance (I’m not sure that I’ll do that for LoTR, those are some long reads).
Oof, I really should’ve thought of this before starting the book…
If you’re reading, it’s easy to skip and/or skim through the songs. If you’re listening to an audiobook—unless you want to stop everything you’re doing to focus on fast-forwarding just enough, you’re stuck listening to them all.
Call me a Philistine if you will, but I just can’t do the songs. And I consistently forget how many of them there are in this book. I tried, I really tried to pay attention, but I couldn’t. I do think Serkis did a decent job carrying a tune with them. I’d love a Behind the Scenes look at how they decided on a tune for him to use.
So, what did I think about The Hobbit Audiobook?
I’m not the Tolkein-fanboy that I (and many acquaintances) would’ve assumed I am. This is only my third (complete) time through the book—I tried a handful of times in grade school, but couldn’t make it through. I got some encouragement from a big fan in college to push through it so I could get to The Lord of the Rings, but didn’t get around to it until the year before Jackson’s LotR was released. I really enjoyed it then, and my appreciation grows in the re-reads. Serkis’ work here moved that up a lot, too.
It’s just a fantastic audiobook—any problems stem from the original text, not Serkis’s performance—if anything he helped the text (not that it needed much). I can’t wait to see what he does with LoTR, those books demand a bit more, and I’m confident he’ll live up to expectations, now I just want to hear it for myself.
If you’re at all curious about this, you should give it a shot—you’ll be glad you did. If you have no curiosity about this—are you sure? Should you reconsider your position? This’d be a great way on family vacations or something to introduce younger readers to the series, I’d think.
adventurous
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
What’s Nice Dragons Finish Last About?
Julius is one of the youngest—and definitely smallest—members of the Heartstrikers, one of the most powerful dragon clans in the world. Like the best of dragons, the Heartstrikers are conniving, dangerous, cruel, and avaricious. Julius is everything they’re not, he has all the usual dragon abilities (true, he hasn’t developed them as he should, but he has them), but his personality and morality are the opposite. The word best used to describe him—and the one used most often in the book—is nice.
Now, his mother is giving him one last chance to become the dragon she wants him to be—she’s trapped him in human form, removing most of his abilities, and he has to make something of himself with these limitations in less than a month. Oh, she landed him in the one city in the world where dragons are banned, too.
Julius teams up with a human mage (who turns out to be on the run from organized crime) to rise to the challenge, and…well, that’s about it. That’s the setup.
Bob
Julius’ older brother, Bob (technically, Brohomir), is one of the three Great Seers in the world. Most of his family seems to regard him as a loon not worthy of paying too much attention to. But Julius seems to understand and respect his ability—especially since he saw the curse happening 4 months before it did, and made some provisions to help his little brother after it.
Why, of all the characters in the book, am I focusing on him? Bob’s a hoot. He seems to have cultivated that insane reputation he has and enjoys playing to type. He’s almost like the draconian answer to Julius Lebowski—off in his own little world, and having a hard time relating to his siblings (again, purposefully)
He has his own agenda for Julius, and it doesn’t necessarily line up with Julius’ plans and hopes. But—unlike most of his family—Bob wants his little brother to be alive. Which makes him a little easier to like.
But it’s not that hard in the first place—Bob steals every scene he’s in. He seems to be the world’s second-nicest dragon, he’s scheming and manipulative to be sure, but he’s eccentric enough that it’s easy to discount it.
Here’s the Thing I Don’t Get
So we learn that Julius was never aggressive enough for the training his siblings went through, at a certain age, he’s simply run from them (which, at least, had the advantage of helping him become fast. Eventually, he’d just hide out in his room and avoid the exercises. Instead of learning to fight like a good dragon, he played video games with humans online. This led to him having some empathy for humans—even liking them, he’s able to see them as something more than tools to be used and exploited.
What we never learn is how Julius becomes nice. Are we to believe that despite the family and culture he’s born into, he’s just hard-wired to be nice? If so, where’d that come from? He’s apparently the one dragon in existence (possibly ever) who’s nice—is it some sort of genetic mutation? Or is it that he picks it up during his interactions with humans. But…since when does online gaming bring out the considerate, respectful, friendly, and helpful side in anyone? Just how does he turn out to be a kind, considerate, respectful, nice person when that’s counter to everything he’s taught and surrounded by?
Maybe in a subsequent book, Aaron will explain this. In the meantime, I’m going to keep asking that question. Is it enough of an issue to detract from my enjoyment of the book? Nah, it’s a fun and sweet story either way. But it’s gnawing away at the back of my mind.
So, what did I think about Nice Dragons Finish Last?
This has been on my Goodreads Want to Read list since 2014 (and on my Kindle since 2015). I cannot tell you why I put it off this long, but I am more than a little annoyed with myself over not getting to it until now. I should be thinking about re-reading the series about now, not starting it.
I had plenty of fun with this—I wasn’t sure what to make of it at the start, but after a chapter or so I settled in and was able to enjoy the ride from there out.
Aaron did a good job of bringing the reader into the world, getting us invested in the characters—even some characters you wouldn’t normally get invested in. A book like this calls for double duty—you’ve got to tell a solid story and you have to set up a world and series. Aaron handles that well, because not only did I enjoy this, I was eager to see what happened next in the series (hopefully, it doesn’t take me eight years to get to it).
adventurous
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
Over the years, many things have changed about my profession. I no longer kept an actual landline on my desk. Since no one had called it since a little past the first of the millennium, I discontinued the service.
My superhuman ability to scroll through microfilm was no longer in demand. Almost anything I needed to look up, from old news stories, to criminal histories, to vehicle records, could be found online. Although I missed my visits to the Boston Public Library, I’d accepted the long, boring hours at my desk, thinking about how many old cases I could’ve solved with Google.
What’s Bye Bye Baby About?
Spenser’s hired by the campaign manager for a Congresswoman during her first re-election bid. Carolina Garcia-Ramirez, aka CGR, has had enemies since she first announced her candidacy (despite its reputation, Boston has a fair share of people antagonistic to a progressive woman politician—especially if she’s a minority), but lately, the threats are more specific and indicate inside information. Despite the Congresswoman’s resistance to the idea, Spenser joins her team as both a bodyguard and to investigate these threats.
Suspects range from any number of racist and alt-right groups, lone individuals, and someone related to the campaign of her opponent—the same man she unseated during the last primary.
It’s not long before Spenser runs into FBI agents, who have a different agenda regarding the Garcia-Ramirez. Spenser wants to stop whoever’s threatening her—as soon as possible. The FBI is more concerned with leveraging these threats into making a larger case against extremists in the region. They do agree, however, that the threats are real and the Congresswoman is in real danger.
The Hawk Storyline
In exchange for helping Spender on CGR-Duty, Hawk asks him to try to track down a woman from his past. Hawk rarely (that we see) asks Spenser for help with something in exchange for his services, so that was noteworthy in and of itself. But for him to ask for this kind of favor? Double strange.
Sadly, most of the developments in this story happen off-screen. And while there are plenty of surprises in it, because it’s so off-screen, it’s too easy to overlook what’s going on. (I honestly only remembered to write something about it just before I hit “Schedule” on this post)
Too Political?
There’s a lot of talk about Atkins making this too political (not the first time it’s been said about his Spenser novels). I can only imagine this was written by people who skipped a handful of Parker’s novels, primarily Looking for Rachel Wallace.
I say that not just because it was Parker at his (arguably) most political,* but this novel was clearly influenced by Looking for Rachel Wallace—I made note of the resemblance on page 18 (but I’d wondered about it before then), and it only became clearer as the book went on.
* Double Deuce, Thin Air, and Pale Kings and Princes jumped to mind as clearly political, too. If I let myself spend time thinking about it, I’d have no problem coming up with more.
Yes, Carolina Garcia-Ramirez/CGR, is obviously modeled on Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez/AOC. The crimes planned and attempted have similarly obvious recent real-world parallels. But this is not a book that only partisans can enjoy, if they can put up with Spenser pushing back on the stances of his Republican client in The Widening Gyre*, they can put up with this. Come to think of it, The Widening Gyre is pretty important for the background to this book.
* Oh, look, another one!
Also, if taking a strong anti-racist stance is going to get someone who’s a fan of Hawk, Bobby Horse, Chollo, and Sixkill decrying the political stance. Maybe they haven’t been paying attention to the series.
Bye Bye, Atkins
“Have you found any suspects?” Susan said.
“Nope.”
“Got any leads?” she said.
“Zip.”
“Planning on doing more than just poking around and annoying people?”
“Why mess with a winning formula?”
Alas, that’s exactly what’s going to happen—the winning formula of Ace Atkins donning the Parker mantle for this series is no more, and Mike Lupica will be taking over.
Atkins is moving on so he can write some projects of his own that he doesn’t have time for while handling Spenser. That’s absolutely understandable, and I look forward to seeing what he’s going to do. But I’m going to miss him with these characters and series—I remember being about a quarter of the way through Lullaby and breathing a sigh of relief—not only was he as good as Parker, he was as good as Parker in his prime. I thought I’d be saying goodbye to a very old friend after Parker died, and Atkins let me hang on a little longer.
I’m a little worried about the series. Lupica’s doing a good job with Sunny Randall (his last one is forthcoming this year), and isn’t bad with the Jesse Stone books. But I doubt he’s going to be as good as Atkins with Spenser. I’m hoping to eat my words, though.
So, what did I think about Bye Bye Baby?
“You think these threats could be legitimate?”
“Maybe” [Wayne Cosgrove] said. “Hell, It only takes one person. It’s just a goddamn mess to see through all the noise and bluster these days. Everyone is angry. Everyone has an ax to grind. At least in the old days, a nut had to roll a sheet of paper into the typewriter or paste together some jumbled clippings from a magazine. But now all they have to do is use a dummy email account and be done.”
“The perils of sleuthing in the twenty-first century.”
It’s a little hard separating my feelings and thoughts about this book from Atkins’ entire run with this being his last, but I’m going to try.
I don’t think this was his strongest outing—nor was it his weakest—but it was as fun as you could want. Spenser’s wit was on full power, as was his gift for observation. The mid-novel fight scene was pretty good–as were the other action scenes. The campaign staff were believable and interesting—as was CGR (although her boyfriend got on my nerves, I think by design). A lot of that story was predictable, but Atkins told it well enough that you didn’t mind—there are only so many things you can do in a story about bodyguarding someone, after all. There were also plenty of unexpected things along the way, so even if the destination was clear all along, Atkins’s route to it wasn’t.
The only sour note for me was the investigation for Hawk—it felt like Atkins had a good idea at the beginning, and just didn’t have the time to develop it as he should’ve. I do wonder if he was just setting something up for Lupica. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.
Atkins brought out all of the major characters from his run, and many from Parker’s, for one last ride—it was great to see them before the hand-off. Atkins even made one major character move (one might say it was overdue and something that Parker should’ve done).
This would work as a jumping-on point to the series—although I can’t imagine here in book 50 that there’s anyone who hasn’t tried the series but is considering it. But more importantly, it’s one for the fans written by a fellow fan, and that audience should be more than satisfied with it.