Best described as what would happen if violently collided with Cloud Atlas and they had a love-child.
How High We Go... is a deftly Best described as what would happen if violently collided with Cloud Atlas and they had a love-child.
How High We Go... is a deftly written, intricately woven story, and a good thing too, considering that at the heart of it, it tells the story of a global pandemic, climate change, and general human tragedy. But also, it tells the story of the aftermath. And that's kind of where the beauty of the book lies, in a way. The world around me is dying, as I write this. There is a global pandemic, and man-made climate change is worse than ever. There's also a full-blown war going on. I genuinely can't say with much conviction that things will get better tomorrow morning. On the other hand, I also have a reputation for being "stupidly optimistic". So for the stupidly optimistic side of me, the humanity of this book was like a balm.
The story itself is a la Cloud Atlas; broken up into chapters, but all adding up to tell an overarching story. Also like Cloud Atlas, its characters are ... connected. Kind of. It intersperses the tragedy of pestilence and destruction with the indomitable and stupidly optimistic hope of human achievement and goodness. Don't get me wrong, but even stupidly optimistic people lose their hope in humanity sometimes, and this book is for those moments.
How High We Go... does an admirable job of contrasting the mundane, everyday realities of living in a pandemic, like the logistics of burying one's loved ones, with the bleak, detached business decisions people take, like profiting off of euthanasia parks and eulogy hotels. Just when you feel like you're teetering on the edge of the hopelessness of it all, the book pulls you back with warmth and hope. Because, maybe humans are like cockroaches, we survive everything, but I think there is something to be admired about the ambition and resilience of it all.
In the real world, people comfort themselves with ignorance, politics, and faith, but here in the domes only hard numbers matter.
The first almost 75-80% of the book was sheer perfection. It tragically falters a little towards the end, collapsing a little bit under its own weight, but that's easily forgiven. Sequoia Nagamatsu tries to tie up the loose ends in a tidy, slightly impractical bow, which I unfortunately saw coming. I'm not saying that this takes away from the otherwise excellently done book, but also, it does, a little bit. On the other hand, for a debut novel, it's remarkably well written. Can I tell if it's a debut? If I look hard enough; there's an earnestness in the writing that I've come to associate with debuts, among other reasons. But we humans, the thing that makes us resilient is that we accept that everything and everyone is flawed, and move on. And that's exactly what I'm going to do here....more
“Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for “Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.�
I don't know about the rest of it, but I am tax'd for speech, that's for sure.
Shakespeare-themed works of fiction are old hat. We have remakes, rewrites, fictionalised histories, plays, even musicals. I've read two just this year. They should be overdone, but they're really not. I love a good Shakespeare tribute, and this was very good.
As anyone who's familiar with it knows, the Shakesperean play is one of his "problem plays". Honestly, I don't even like it very much. But then again, I'm not Miranda Fitch. Anyway, it's a bit pointless to read this book without knowing much about the play, although Awad, through her main character, does a fairly good job of explaining the nitty gritties of how the whole thing goes. But, and I may be reading too much into this, but I think one of the reasons I enjoyed the book so much was because it kind of follows the structure of the play. Then again, as I said, I actually may be reading too much into it.
All's Well is a Shakespeare-referencing, anxiety-inducing acid trip. There are ups and downs and ups and downs and things that happen in between that I can't really explain. I don't even think Mona Awad can explain it. No, this is actually a valid criticism of the book, in that I genuinely think that she does a bad job of making me understand what is happening sometimes. Especially through the last 15% of the book. Which, coincidentally, is also the part that reads like an acid trip on steroids.
I didn't really know very much about what I was getting into when I started, except the Shakespeare bits. Honestly, I was a bit underwhelmed at the start; I'm a bit done with middle-aged White women having existential and/or mid-life crises. Although, to be fair, once it picked up (and it picks up quickly), I felt bad for even thinking this (and not just because of the whole curses thing).
Awad has said that her intention was to draw attention to the pain (actual, physical, sometimes chronic pain) that women sometimes go through, which is ignored or downplayed by the people around them. Honestly, it does a really splendid job at doing that. Completely whack-a-doodle, but splendid nevertheless. I want to say that any former ignoramus is probably definitely going to pay more attention to a woman complaining of being in pain, if for no reason other than because they don't want to be cursed.
One would be remiss in expecting anything less than a book chock-full of references to Shakesperean sundries in what I am assuming is some bastardised version of a tribute book. So, yeah, there's lots of little Shakespeare Easter eggs for anyone who wants them. I'm honestly not even sure I got them all. (Yes, there's Macbeth. Lots of Macbeth.)
It was a little creepy, a lot wild, and a hundred percent fun. Yeah, it's not perfect, but it's also the weirdest take on Shakespeare I've ever seen. Gold star, Awad....more
“NoemÃ, just because there are no ghosts it doesn’t mean you can’t be haunted. Nor that you shouldn’t fear the haunting. You are too fearless. My f“NoemÃ, just because there are no ghosts it doesn’t mean you can’t be haunted. Nor that you shouldn’t fear the haunting. You are too fearless. My father was the same way, and he paid dearly for it.â€�
The thing about gothic horror that I like the most (and there's a lot about gothic horror I like) is that "horror" means different things to different story, different times, different authors. I like Mexican Gothic because it reads like a pastiche to these stories, times, authors, whilst also telling its own story.
The pacing is excellent - it starts off slow, like any classic gothic horror novel would, with the world building and character writing. Before you know it, however, you're knee deep in a world of creepy, old men; evil, younger men; and the faithful woman of the house fighting to protect the family secret because she just has to. But also, twists and turns you saw coming a mile away (and some you didn't)....more
Oh man. The obvious Arabian Nights parallel should have been my first hint. This here is an example of how a good idea and some good writing cannot alOh man. The obvious Arabian Nights parallel should have been my first hint. This here is an example of how a good idea and some good writing cannot always save a book.
I deeply loved The Night Circus. It's one of the best books I've read, though I'm sorry to say the same does not extend to The Starless Sea. It is the most artsy, bougie, pretentious, hipster book I've ever read, and that's honestly saying something, coming from me, seeing as how I'm a fairly artsy, bougie, hipster person. For context, I think Rent (the musical) is the next best thing after sliced bread, and I bake French patisserie in my spare time. I've even been to a black tie event or two. So, you know, it takes a bit to make me think something is pretentious, and The Starless Sea is REALLY pretentious. Even by my standards. It's a bit ridiculous, really. I think it was supposed to be some sort of nerd porn (libraries, video games, dungeon masters...) but it fails pretty miserably at it.
Pastiche, or glorified fan fiction really, is usually one of my favourite kind of stories. You know, imitation being the best form of flattery and all that. When done well, it is truly glorious. Obviously, doing it well is the tricky bit, and that's where most pastiche fail, including, as it turns out, this one. The Starless Sea is pastiche on steroids. Morgenstern does not want you to forget that this is a book for people who like books. Lest you forget, however, she makes sure to remind you of it on every single page; it gets tedious after the first 10.
Similarly, I love any form of non-linear or experimental story-telling, when it's done right. There is a fine line between experimental and convoluted, and Morgenstern definitely veers towards the latter. It's like playing a game of dungeons and dragons with a dungeon master who's really imaginative, but doesn't know where to stop. In other words, it's exhausting. As a result, the art of storytelling is lost, and I don't get a chance to appreciate what the book does well. A shame really, because what the book does well, it does really well.
(view spoiler)[Also, the star-crossed lovers trope is a dead horse, really. Just because it worked in her last book does not mean it should work here. In fact, I think that it was central to The Night Circus should have been enough reason to not have it be so pivotal here.(hide spoiler)]...more
It is my belief that the House itself loves and blesses equally everything that it has created.
Before I start to review Piranesi, I want to mentioIt is my belief that the House itself loves and blesses equally everything that it has created.
Before I start to review Piranesi, I want to mention two things. One, I've read Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell even though I'm "currently reading" it according to my Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ. I want to write a fitting review for it, and the moment I mark it as "read", it's going to nag me till I do. I'm constrained in terms of time at the moment, so there's that. Two, and more importantly for this book, I think it is an unequivocal fact that some people are just born to write, and Susanna Clarke is one of them. Her writing is stunning, spectacular, leaves me speechless, and I would build an altar to it (her writing) if I could.
May the House in its Beauty shelter us both.
I have this theory about writers, which is that I tend to appreciate writers who don't churn out a new book every other day. I don't know if that entirely makes sense, but I've read some top-notch debuts, only to be thoroughly disappointed by the second book, if for no reason other than that it felt rushed. With Piranesi, however, Clarke does something entirely different than Strange and Norrell, but equally marvellous.
� the House provides for and protects its Children.
Strange and Norrell is a gorgeous piece of writing. It is elaborate and evocative, and the tongue-in-cheek footnotes only add to the richness in writing and storytelling. It's like an intricately carved sculpture that you must spend days, months admiring and taking in. Piranesi, on the other hand, is an entirely different kind of good writing. It's simpler, for one, but in a way that suits it. Clarke does a really good job here using different tones and words to both emphasise on the one hand Piranesi's innocence and, shall we say, scientific inquiry, and on the other, the vastness, beauty, and mystery of the House. I think what I'm trying to say here, badly, is that Clarke has this talent for choosing words and phrases and paragraphs that suit a particular book or story, and she is flawless in doing that.
I realised that the search for the Knowledge has encouraged us to think of the House as if it were a sort of riddle to be unravelled, a text to be interpreted, and that if ever we discover the Knowledge, then it will be as if the Value has been wrested from the House and all that remains will be mere scenery.
Piranesi is both a very difficult and a very easy book to talk about. I can gush about how good a book it is, but it is tough to actually talk about the book without giving much up. I think the only think people need to know about it is that it's really, really good. I think that knowing very little about the book before thoroughly enjoying it is very fitting in the context of the book as well. It is written in a sort of epistolary format, in the form of diary entries made by Piranesi, of his days, adventures, and his reverence to the House, the World. It seems like a simple enough story, but it's one of those books you finish in one sitting. It sucks you in, and you aren't particularly functional until you're done with it because you can't really think of anything else.
The World feels Complete and Whole, and I, its Child, fit into it seamlessly.
I think, in the context of Piranesi, it is important not to dwell too much on the questions, but rather on the moments in the journey that Piranesi takes us on. You know how they say that it isn't about the destination, but the journey? I don't particularly advocate for that line of thinking, except if it is in the context of this book. So, join Piranesi as he explores the House, learns about its inhabitants, and well, in some ways, rediscovers himself. Despite its façade of fantasy, Piranesi veers into the realms of the mysterious, the philosophical, and even the wholesome.
The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite....more
I don't know how I feel about A House in the Jungle. I get it, from the blurb, that much of it is left to my imagination. The question, however, remaiI don't know how I feel about A House in the Jungle. I get it, from the blurb, that much of it is left to my imagination. The question, however, remains, how much should be left to the readers' imagination?
On the other hand, however, I guess that was the point, right? I mean, what other kind of an end would a misanthrope meet with, anyway?...more
Yeah, I binge-read the whole series. So sue me. Jokes apart, apparently I don't like back stories so much. I did like The Little Android and SomethingYeah, I binge-read the whole series. So sue me. Jokes apart, apparently I don't like back stories so much. I did like The Little Android and Something Old, Something New quite a bit, but the others didn't stick with me the way the novels did. Not all bad, however; I mean, if you took the time to read the entire series anyway, might as well make time for this, right?...more
The final edition of The Lunar Chronicles is really, really long. To be exact, this book is over 800 pages long. I couldn't understand what Meyer had The final edition of The Lunar Chronicles is really, really long. To be exact, this book is over 800 pages long. I couldn't understand what Meyer had to say for 800 pages, seeing as there really wasn't much left to do, but she did an amazing job of it. There were too many things happening in it for me to get bored, and honestly, the 800 pages didn't seem like 800. Winter, here, is the girl of Ice and Snow; a version of Snow White, but not entirely. You see, Winter is a woman of colour.
I mean, it is just another space adventure where people get captured and their friends rescue them, but it's done well. Let me be honest here, I really didn't expect to like Winter as much as I did. She was crazy, literally, but she was so in an incredibly touching and endearing manner. Of course, the cause for her craziness is as altruistic as can be. I think perhaps the best part of this book for me was the contrast between Winter and Levana; between why the former was loved while the latter was loathed. Levana attributes the Lunar people's adoration of Winter to her beauty, whereas it is in fact her character, her voluntary descent into sickness due to not using her "Lunar gift" to manipulate people, that draws people to her. I can also draw parallels to both their stories, in that both were (technically) royalty, and, both fell in low with "lowly" guards. Except in Winter's case, he loved her back, and in Levana's, well, it's really quite difficult to love that woman. I really, really like Cinder in this one; she uses her powers to start a (successful) revolution. Thorne is hilarious and helpful, as is Cress. My one grievance, if any, is that there isn't enough Scarlet or Wolf in this. They're just...there. They don't really do much, and seeing as these were my favourites, that was disappointing. Of course, the ending is all happy and perfect. Well, mostly it is. In true fairy tale style, everyone lived happily ever after.
All in all, it was a pretty fitting, albeit predictable ending to a series I quite enjoyed. ...more
I didn't think it could get better than the first one, but oh, it got monumentally better so. Pro tip: you're going to have to read the second one rigI didn't think it could get better than the first one, but oh, it got monumentally better so. Pro tip: you're going to have to read the second one right after the first, because it really won't make sense otherwise. Full RTC....more
Precisely why all the above (below, in this review, I guess) should be so is not clear, but goes some way to explain why, on the disc, the Gods arePrecisely why all the above (below, in this review, I guess) should be so is not clear, but goes some way to explain why, on the disc, the Gods are not so much worshipped as blamed.
Have you ever wondered about what would happen if you were merely a pawn in a game played by gods? Have you ever wondered about how living in a Flat-Earth would be? Would you like to learn about what failed wizards do in their free time? Are you curious about how dragons are born and how they rest? Do you want to understand what insurance actually means? If the answer to any of these questions is yes, then The Colour of Magic is the book for you. However, if you're a pragmatist, and lack imagination, I would suggest you steer clear of the book.
Welcome to Discworld; the land of the strange and scary, of the weird and wonderful. It's important to know, before you enter this magical and frankly absurd land, that you are a pawn in a life-sized game of Dungeons and Dragons. There is no escaping that. Do not make deals with Fate, do not sing prayers for The Lady; perhaps, just perhaps, you might just survive. Though, well, you do start to question whether surviving is actually worth it. Journey along with sarcastic and cynical Rincewind, a failed wizard, and Twoflower, a tourist under his care. Rincewind is an extremely likable character, a rationalist, and quick-witted to the core. Rincewind often suspected that there was something, somewhere, that was better than magic. He was usually disappointed. Twoflower, who sells inn-sewer-ants polly-see, on the other hand, is a typical tourist - he gets excited at every instance, and would rather photograph a fascinating sight than run for his life. Twoflower was a tourist, the first ever seen on the Discworld. Tourist, Rincewind had decided, meant “idiot.� Together, the two make a hilarious and engaging pair, and their story is a definite laugh riot. There are books that employ elements of satire to prove a point; this book, and I believe the series by extension, are wholly satire, and I found myself literally laughing out loud at more than one point.
The story starts at Ankh-Morpork, a city so rife with accidents, nothing quite astounds their citizens anymore. A city of thieves, fraudsters and scoundrels. A city through which flows the filthy River Ankh. In a city where public executions, duels, fights, magical feuds and strange events regularly punctuated the daily round the inhabitants had brought the profession of interested bystander to a peak of perfection. The city of Ankh-Morpork perhaps best explains human beings as a species. Their casual nature, their inclination to defraud, rather than help people in trouble, and their undying love for gold. The journey from there is a meandering one, onto the Temple of Bel-Shamharoth, the temple of the Soul-Eater. There is an escape into the world of Dragons, through an actual aeroplane (like the ones we have on Earth), and onto the Circumfence, yes, Circumfence, not circumference, because you do need a fence at the rim of the Discworld. Our two friends here, they meet heroes and villains, and creatures we mustn't speak of.
In his dry and totally British way, Pratchett mocks religion, and the religious. ...the ravaged roof of the Broken Drum, was wafted high into the Discworld’s atmosphere on the ensuing thermal, and came to earth several days and a few thousand miles away on an uloruaha bush in the beTrobi islands. The simple, laughing islanders subsequently worshipped it as a god, much to the amusement of their more sophisticated neighbors. Strangely enough the rainfall and harvests in the next few years were almost supernaturally abundant, and this led to a research team being dispatched to the islands by the Minor Religions faculty of Unseen University. Their verdict was that it only went to show. He laughs at humans and their follies, at our propensity to regale ourselves with tales of heroes of yore. As says the resident Hero of the book: “I expect in a minute the door will be flung back and I’ll be dragged off to some sort of temple arena where I’ll fight maybe a couple of giant spiders and an eight-foot slave from the jungles of Klatch and then I’ll rescue some kind of a princess from the altar and then kill off a few guards or whatever and then this girl will show me the secret passage out of the place and we’ll liberate a couple of horses and escape with the treasure.� Satire at its absolute best, whole book is.
Learn about Dragons you can summon with your imagination, and the significance of the number 8. Experience the colour Octarine, and the 8-banded Rimbow. Communicate with different languages whose words make no sense at all. Understand how magic is actually, really, quite difficult. Have hair-raising adventures with Rincewind, Twoflower, and his sentient luggage, Luggage. Curse the gods, the ghosts and the monsters. Read Discworld.
It was all very well going on about pure logic and how the universe was ruled by logic and the harmony of numbers, but the plain fact of the matter was that the Disc was manifestly traversing space on the back of a giant turtle and the gods had a habit of going around to atheists� houses and smashing their windows.
P.S., before I sign off, my good friend, The Doctor would like to explain to you what time is, because here, on Discworld, it's important to know what time is, and what it isn't.
EDIT - 29 October 2018 I just saw the Netflix series, and while in many ways it is quite phenomenal, I do feel like it takes away from the essence EDIT - 29 October 2018 I just saw the Netflix series, and while in many ways it is quite phenomenal, I do feel like it takes away from the essence of the book. The book was a sort of treatise on mental illnesses in women, while the series just portrays them as either overtly emotional or overtly evil.
ORIGINAL REVIEW-
The Hills have eyes, and Hill House has odd angles and off-centres and sloping stairs.
Welcome to Hill House. May I take your coat? Or would you like to leave it on just in case you may involuntarily shudder? I do suggest you leave it on, for here, doors close on their own, and you may find yourself lost even though you were perfectly sure you were on the right path.
In the vein of gothic horror tales, Shirley Jackson spins a tale of terror that will leave you just a little unnerved. Not too much, but just enough. Hill House differs from many of the more conventional horror books in that it makes liberal use of humour as a part of the narration. The characters are oftentimes funny, and use sarcasm either to mask their terror or general disdain.
Hill House is a sinister house with an equally sinister history to boot. No one goes there at night for fear of eerie happenings that seem to rock the house, and quite literally at that. Of course, it's never evident if these happenings are but a figment of their imagination, because of their fears, or if the house is actually haunted. Dr. Montague, a man of science, calls upon Theodora, Eleanor and Luke Sanderson to investigate the happenings at Hill House.
Why me, she wondered, why me? Am I the public conscience? Expected always to say in cold words what the rest of them are too arrogant to recognize? Am I supposed to be the weakest, weaker than Theodora? Of all of us, she thought, I am surely the one least likely to turn against the others.
Eleanor is a very disturbed woman; shy and wanting to please everyone at the outset. Terrified of embarrassing herself and of being the outcast. Journeys end in lovers meeting she keeps telling herself. Eleanor hasn't been out much, having spent a major part of her life caring for her ailing mother, and another major chunk under the thumb and inside the house of her older, rather domineering sister. All she wants is a friend; to be loved, wanted, and accepted. In Theodora, she finds a friend. Or so, at least initially. “I don’t understand.� Theodora threw down her pencil in exasperation. “Do you always go where you’re not wanted?� Eleanor smiled placidly. “I’ve never been wanted anywhere,� she said. Theo and Nell, Nell and Theo. They spend their days, well, for the most part at least, walking by the brook outside and planning picnics and painting each others' nails.
Eleanor is central to the story, more so to than her counterparts - Luke, Theodora and Dr. Montague. Because somehow, she is central to the house. Through her, we find ourselves more bewildered by what the goings on at the house actually are, actually represent. Are they real? Or are they a figment of everyone's collective imagination (folie a quatre?)? Or is Eleanor, somehow involved herself? Maybe solving her mysteries would help us solve the mysteries of the House. Or vice versa. Any which way, Eleanor is central.
Jackson seamlessly intersperses classic horror elements with elements of psychological horror, leading to an environment very a la The Yellow Wallpaper where female hysteria and doubt over said hysteria play an equally important role, as say, the ghost family enjoying their picnic. She keeps the reader engaged, guessing till the very end, or even beyond that, may I add. “You never know what you are going to want until you see it clearly�....more
Buddy read with some of my favourites, Rosh and Ads.
With the last Stephen King novel I read, my complaint was that he wasn't trying hard enough. My coBuddy read with some of my favourites, Rosh and Ads.
With the last Stephen King novel I read, my complaint was that he wasn't trying hard enough. My complaint now is that he's trying too hard. There is too much happening in this book. Which, considering it's Stephen King, I can get on board with that. But. There is too much happening in this book. In no particular order, these are my problems with Sleeping Beauties, which honestly, put me to sleep. 1. The book is like 700 pages long. You can eliminate at least half these pages and it would still make sense. 2. There's as many characters in this book as there are pages, and come on, I'm getting old; my memory is not what it was. 3. When did Stephen King become Jose Saramago? That's some serious Saramago flashback right there. 4. I see the point of the book. But also it goes too far. The message it ends up giving is absolutely not the message it was intended to give. In fact, it ends up being almost the polar opposite of the intended message. 5. Is it possible for a book to be simultaneously this gratuitously violent, and incredibly boring?
But. Old loyalties, and I always give props for trying, so I'm marking this at 2. But I'm looking at you, Stevie boy. And the more I do, I realise I need to give up on your books for a couple of years till I can get into it again. ...more
I think of her hair as black as coal, her lips as red as blood, her skin, snow-white. As do I. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves is a fairy tale, nI think of her hair as black as coal, her lips as red as blood, her skin, snow-white. As do I. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves is a fairy tale, nay, a beloved fairy tale about a young, beautiful girl with hair as black as ebony, lips as red as blood, and skin as white as snow. It is the story of the triumph of good over evil; of the victory of an innocent, loving and beautiful child over her clever, evil, equally beautiful step mother. But Neil Gaiman doesn't think so. Why? Because he's Neil fucking Gaiman and he can ruin any fairytale he wants.
You see, it's all about perspective. The kind and gentle (for the intents and purposes of this story only) stepmother says, "They call me wise, but I am far from wise, for all that I foresaw fragments of it, frozen moments caught in pools of water or in the cold glass of my mirror. If I were wise I would not have tried to change what I saw. If I were wise I would have killed myself before ever I encountered her, before ever I caught him."
"Wise, and a witch, or so they said, and I’d seen his face in my dreams and in reflections for all my life: sixteen years of dreaming of him before he reined his horse by the bridge that morning, and asked my name." At the ripe age of sixteen, she finds herself in love with the beautiful king of the land. Sixteen and but a child herself, she finds herself married to him, and caring (I use the word loosely here) for his five year-old daughter. Her eyes were black as coal, black as her hair; her lips were redder than blood. ... Her teeth seemed sharp, even then, in the lamplight. But of course, everything about the daughter is not as it seems, and tragedy befalls our heroine.
A landscape, unrecognisable after a snowfall; that is what she has made of my life.
Saying anything beyond this would, of course compromise the build of the story. I will say this, though; this book is not for the faint-hearted, as beautiful as it is. Neil Gaiman, you perverse weirdo. I didn't think I could ever love you more, but see, now, I do.
I'll leave you with this...metaphor. Autumn is the time of drying, of preserving, a time of picking apples, of rendering the goose fat. Winter is the time of hunger, of snow, and of death... ...more
Of all the thrillers I've read with the world "girl" in its title, this was by far the best. The best by leaps and bounds. And strangely, it has a mucOf all the thrillers I've read with the world "girl" in its title, this was by far the best. The best by leaps and bounds. And strangely, it has a much lower rating than the others.
A couple of years ago, one of my friends asked me if there was one question I could know the answer to, what would it be. While all my other friends answered with "What is the meaning of life?", "Why are we here?", and the likes, my very stupid question was this: "Who the fuck was Jack the Ripper?" Okay, I honestly, still, really want to know the answer to that question because the theories are so many, and so fascinating! And also, that's probably why I liked this book. Imagine if Jack the Ripper could time travel. Yeah. That's pretty much the premise of this book. Seems cheesy, but the execution is very, very good.
Harper Curtis is a time travelling serial killer. Kirby Mazarachi should've been killed by him. But she survives, and becomes obsessed with hunting him down. Do you blame her? Anyway, and thus begins a cat-and-mouse game where the both start hunting each other. Harper needs to kill the Shining Girls - some eight (?) of them, in order to "pacify" his house and still be able to travel through time. Kirby needs to kill the man who cut her open and left her to die. With the help of her drug-addicted mother Rachel, and former Chicago Sun-Times crime (and current sports) reporter Dan Velasquez. Dan plays a significant role in the book because he covered Kirby's attack, and that kind of led to his downfall as a crime reporter. Kirby and Dan form a good team, although their subsequent romance was rather uncalled for.
The Shining Girls is a complicated book, but Beukes does an excellent job in helping Kirby (and the reader) unravel the story. It could have been a very easy story to ruin - she could've done too much, or too little; provided too much detail, provided too little detail; it could've been cheesy and exaggerated or it could've been vague and ambiguous. However, Beukes does none of that. There is a tremendous control in her writing, she doesn't let her imagination run wild, nor does she control the story and give it a more boring, run of the mill ending. She balances its weirdness, the goriness of the murders and the detailed scenes with elements of humour. It has its fair share of flaws, but it is one of the very few thrillers that I have truly enjoyed in the recent past, and is thus deserving of every one of its five stars. It is a little explicit in some parts, a little gory, so I wouldn't recommend it to people who are a little squeamish about that. It is, however, one of the better thrillers on the market today, definitely!...more
Basically, what happens when Fifty Shades of Grey goes horribly wrong. I'll review it tomorrow. Basically, what happens when Fifty Shades of Grey goes horribly wrong. I'll review it tomorrow. ...more
I'm on a Beat experiment, of sorts, so bear with me. I'd read Howl a while back, but mostly because my then boyfriend was obsessed with Allen GinsbergI'm on a Beat experiment, of sorts, so bear with me. I'd read Howl a while back, but mostly because my then boyfriend was obsessed with Allen Ginsberg. He was prone to, er, herbaceous recreation, if you catch my drift. We were in a long distance relationship, and asking me to read vaguely psychedelic and experimental poems was his idea of foreplay. So I read Howl, I liked it. I didn't really care much about it beyond that, because I hadn't really wanted to read it then. I read Howl again after I read On the Road, and I actually, genuinely liked it. Which begs the question, why o why is Kerouac is considered the best of the Beats. Between this and the half of Naked Lunch I've read, I not only find Ginsberg and Burroughs smarter and more pleasant, but also less verbose and self-absorbed. My unadulterated hatred for Kerouac apart, I do have more to say about this collection. Full RTC....more
Ah didnae expect the book to be as good as the movie. Bit it wis. Ah remembuh reading the first chapter at least fifteen times before ah wis able tae Ah didnae expect the book to be as good as the movie. Bit it wis. Ah remembuh reading the first chapter at least fifteen times before ah wis able tae git intae it. Once ye git intae it, ye cannae git out.
Sure, it's abit shootin smack n fuckin, bit it's git some soul tae it. N the entire book is wrote this way; so I cannae say it's fae ivrybody. Bit if yer intae some profanity n have no problem wi explicit content, this is fae ye. I dunnae think I ken write like this any longer, so me review ends here....more
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