I think I renewed this book 3 times. It's just so damn... long.
And I don't think it really needed to be. It seemed sort of a slice-of-life tale, but also seemed pretty much ALL the slices of the author's life. He took all the bizarre stuff that's ever happened to him, ramped it up a bit to increase the drama, and then stuffed it all in a novel-shaped package.
It contained at least 4 tales in one. His life having been abandoned by his mother at an early age, his life as a teacher, his life as a failed writer, and his life as a video game addict (oh, yea, I think that was him, not a "friend"). Unfortunately, none of these gel with each other unless you create quite a number of crazy plot devices. Crazy enough that you notice it. A lot.
The writing is pretty damn good, in and of itself. Hill keeps the momentum going and doesn't devolve into a ton of miscellaneous description (which you all know I hate). He does this a bit in the video game sections, but that's some pretty fascinating detail, so I'll give him that one.
Therefore, this novel should have been 4 novels. And I'll put that problem squarely on his publisher.
Monday, May 20, 2019
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Leon, Donna (The Golden Egg)
I'll say that this book in the series (goodness, how did Leon get to #22 without me noticing?) is less structured than some of her others.
The usual kerfuffle with Patta is there. The repartee with Signorina Elletra is as delightful as ever. His relationship with his clever, fun, foodie family is there, as amusing as ever. So that structure is certainly there. But the rest seemed more all over the place - probably because of how the murder landed in Brunetti's lap.
The only twists you see are related to Signorina Elletra and an unexpected plot twist regarding the victim and his family. This is actually more horrifying than usual. But not the level of horrifying from the last book, which was stomach-churning. This one is the "ineffable sadness" level of horror.
The usual kerfuffle with Patta is there. The repartee with Signorina Elletra is as delightful as ever. His relationship with his clever, fun, foodie family is there, as amusing as ever. So that structure is certainly there. But the rest seemed more all over the place - probably because of how the murder landed in Brunetti's lap.
The only twists you see are related to Signorina Elletra and an unexpected plot twist regarding the victim and his family. This is actually more horrifying than usual. But not the level of horrifying from the last book, which was stomach-churning. This one is the "ineffable sadness" level of horror.
Monday, April 8, 2019
Harper, Jane (The Lost Man)
I prefer Harper's Aaron Falk series, and likely that's because Falk has continuity (for lack of a better phrase). He is an investigator to begin with and he sits outside the conflict (thereby bringing an external voice). Our protagonist in this story is too embedded in the tale. That can have its benefits, but it makes the reveal strangely disappointing (because it requires his input, and without it there is no ending).
Regardless, you learn vastly more about living in the outback than you did in Harper's previous novels. She absolutely has a penchant and a talent for this (I never expect her to write a novel based in one of Australia's cities). In particular, you learn some of the basic tenets of literally surviving in the Australian wilderness, which are bound to scare the pants off you. (Golly am I pleased we didn't decide to do a road trip to the outback when we were in Australia because it would have been 'Oh, a road trip, what fun, tra la!' Yipes.)
As a personal preference, I didn't enjoy the level of misdirection employed in the novel or the bow-tie ending. Or the reveal, which I sadly saw coming from miles away (not well misdirected, unfortunately). The novel's topic is an important one to keep in the public view, but the novel itself didn't do it the service it deserves.
Regardless, you learn vastly more about living in the outback than you did in Harper's previous novels. She absolutely has a penchant and a talent for this (I never expect her to write a novel based in one of Australia's cities). In particular, you learn some of the basic tenets of literally surviving in the Australian wilderness, which are bound to scare the pants off you. (Golly am I pleased we didn't decide to do a road trip to the outback when we were in Australia because it would have been 'Oh, a road trip, what fun, tra la!' Yipes.)
As a personal preference, I didn't enjoy the level of misdirection employed in the novel or the bow-tie ending. Or the reveal, which I sadly saw coming from miles away (not well misdirected, unfortunately). The novel's topic is an important one to keep in the public view, but the novel itself didn't do it the service it deserves.
Saturday, April 6, 2019
Lipman, Eleanor (Good Riddance)
As with all Eleanor Lipman novels, this one takes a particular path. It's a romance, but not a rubbish-y kind of romance, which is usually characterized by poor writing. It has twists and turns that are ridiculous but fun, and with no intention other than to be fun. It usually has likeable characters, although they may often have personality traits that aren't endearing (creating the possibility for growth, of course).
This novel, though, had what felt like an abrupt shift towards the end, in terms of one of the relationships, that didn't gel as well for me as previous novels' relationships. I think that's due to the fact that I was specifically not enamored with the personality traits of one of the people in the relationship. That character seemed strangely greedy or obtuse or a combination of both, and it left me cold. It's not often that Lipman crafts her characters without a safety net of likeable traits, so take that into account when heading into this book.
This novel, though, had what felt like an abrupt shift towards the end, in terms of one of the relationships, that didn't gel as well for me as previous novels' relationships. I think that's due to the fact that I was specifically not enamored with the personality traits of one of the people in the relationship. That character seemed strangely greedy or obtuse or a combination of both, and it left me cold. It's not often that Lipman crafts her characters without a safety net of likeable traits, so take that into account when heading into this book.
Friday, April 5, 2019
French, Tana (The Witch Elm)
Oof. What is this?
On the one hand, the book is about a person musing on their own personality and how their interactions with other people are shaped by their personality. On the other hand, it's a deep dive into what it's like to be handicapped or otherwise severely disabled, physically. And on the other other hand, it's a bent-out-of-shape mystery with so many reveals I couldn't keep count.
This novel was utterly exhausting. It was engaging because of the multiple intentions of the author, stated above, but it drags you down with it, and in the end you feel like you're drowning. Also, and I'm not sure if this is a minor point or more important than that, the core bit of information - which is one large reveal in and of itself - is vital, but obscured. I wouldn't say that it's hidden away, as you learn precisely what it was and why it was important. But it is nestled in with so many other reveals that it loses its potency. I actually wonder if French did this on purpose. She's so used to crafting multi-layered mysteries that perhaps she felt it would be useful to the novel to bury this concept.
In addition to that, accompanying that theme are a couple of characters who aren't necessarily bad people but who are so deeply flawed that it's difficult to care about them, especially in their relationship to the protagonist. Unfortunately, I think that what French has set out to achieve in this novel ends up downplaying that vastly important, let's-call-it-central theme.
On the one hand, the book is about a person musing on their own personality and how their interactions with other people are shaped by their personality. On the other hand, it's a deep dive into what it's like to be handicapped or otherwise severely disabled, physically. And on the other other hand, it's a bent-out-of-shape mystery with so many reveals I couldn't keep count.
This novel was utterly exhausting. It was engaging because of the multiple intentions of the author, stated above, but it drags you down with it, and in the end you feel like you're drowning. Also, and I'm not sure if this is a minor point or more important than that, the core bit of information - which is one large reveal in and of itself - is vital, but obscured. I wouldn't say that it's hidden away, as you learn precisely what it was and why it was important. But it is nestled in with so many other reveals that it loses its potency. I actually wonder if French did this on purpose. She's so used to crafting multi-layered mysteries that perhaps she felt it would be useful to the novel to bury this concept.
In addition to that, accompanying that theme are a couple of characters who aren't necessarily bad people but who are so deeply flawed that it's difficult to care about them, especially in their relationship to the protagonist. Unfortunately, I think that what French has set out to achieve in this novel ends up downplaying that vastly important, let's-call-it-central theme.
Thursday, April 4, 2019
Hannah, Kristin (The Great Alone)
I have so, so, so many thoughts about this novel.
I adored Hannah's first offering, The Nightingale. It was pitch perfect in terms of the setting, the context, the historical flavor, and the ending. And it was daring! In more ways than one - because it's tough to write something new about World War II any longer, and because it focused on sisters as the main characters (more about Hannah's ability to write strong female-focused narratives below).
I certainly think this novel is daring, but I don't think it is genius writing. There's something to be said for historical accuracy creating a solid base for a novel. You can always return to the "known" if your plot starts to devolve. In this novel, almost everything written seemed unpinned and untethered. As if they were complete flights of fancy, even though Hannah built this on the very real understanding of what it is like to live in Alaska, through all of its seasons (her own childhood background). So although she understood the setting - it was "known" - I think because she didn't precisely know the plot device - as I understand it, none of her childhood was destroyed by physical violence - this does not feel believable.
Of course, Hannah is working hard to craft very strong female characters. The problem isn't that the tragic story of an abused woman often showcases how difficult it is to be strong - that's a necessary part of the story, and I don't fault her for that. It's that the plot machinations of each of the women in the story do not seem realistic. It's hard for me to precisely pin down why, but I felt this throughout the novel.
If you want to learn more about what it's like to live in Alaska, absolutely this is the book for you. But be prepared for a bit of a wild ride, as a result.
I adored Hannah's first offering, The Nightingale. It was pitch perfect in terms of the setting, the context, the historical flavor, and the ending. And it was daring! In more ways than one - because it's tough to write something new about World War II any longer, and because it focused on sisters as the main characters (more about Hannah's ability to write strong female-focused narratives below).
I certainly think this novel is daring, but I don't think it is genius writing. There's something to be said for historical accuracy creating a solid base for a novel. You can always return to the "known" if your plot starts to devolve. In this novel, almost everything written seemed unpinned and untethered. As if they were complete flights of fancy, even though Hannah built this on the very real understanding of what it is like to live in Alaska, through all of its seasons (her own childhood background). So although she understood the setting - it was "known" - I think because she didn't precisely know the plot device - as I understand it, none of her childhood was destroyed by physical violence - this does not feel believable.
Of course, Hannah is working hard to craft very strong female characters. The problem isn't that the tragic story of an abused woman often showcases how difficult it is to be strong - that's a necessary part of the story, and I don't fault her for that. It's that the plot machinations of each of the women in the story do not seem realistic. It's hard for me to precisely pin down why, but I felt this throughout the novel.
If you want to learn more about what it's like to live in Alaska, absolutely this is the book for you. But be prepared for a bit of a wild ride, as a result.
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
Corey, James S.A. (Tiamat's Wrath)
As some other reviewers have already noted, I downright hated the first sentence of this book. The Coreys are up to no good, once again.
Other reviewers are saying that this book in the series is as good if not better than "Nemesis Games". It does push the agenda along and make things all ready for that last book, on that I do agree. Maybe I don't agree with reviewers' hyperbolic critiques because I read it when I was sick (I thought it was a good idea! Read a series you cherish while you have so much time on your hands! Hmm.). However, I found the middle bits of the novel to be a whole lot of noodling around for page count purposes when it was always possible to cut to the chase more efficiently.
Not that I don't love reading The Coreys' writing - I always do! But I wondered if incorporating the viewpoints of a few more characters might be worthwhile (the number of perspectives offered outside the preface and the epilogue seemed surprisingly minimal), and that would have obviated the need for all the back-n-forth or just plain nothing that happened in many chapters.
Or maybe I'm just grumpy because, once again, they've killed off a number of fabulous characters. Who are they going to kill off in the last book? I think it's worth being extremely worried about their intentions.
Other reviewers are saying that this book in the series is as good if not better than "Nemesis Games". It does push the agenda along and make things all ready for that last book, on that I do agree. Maybe I don't agree with reviewers' hyperbolic critiques because I read it when I was sick (I thought it was a good idea! Read a series you cherish while you have so much time on your hands! Hmm.). However, I found the middle bits of the novel to be a whole lot of noodling around for page count purposes when it was always possible to cut to the chase more efficiently.
Not that I don't love reading The Coreys' writing - I always do! But I wondered if incorporating the viewpoints of a few more characters might be worthwhile (the number of perspectives offered outside the preface and the epilogue seemed surprisingly minimal), and that would have obviated the need for all the back-n-forth or just plain nothing that happened in many chapters.
Or maybe I'm just grumpy because, once again, they've killed off a number of fabulous characters. Who are they going to kill off in the last book? I think it's worth being extremely worried about their intentions.
Monday, February 18, 2019
Le Guin, Ursula K. (Lathe of Heaven)
I read this book long ago, probably before I graduated college. I find it amazing that it has the same power to provoke thought and offer hope now, as it did the first time I read it.
At its core, it's a tale about our human need to change something for the better, and our inexperience with facing problems that ensue when we try to do that. The milieu Le Guin creates is horrific - and prescient - in its description of war, poverty, race, the hunger for power and the need to achieve. (I very much wish it was not as prescient as it was...) The focal point is a man who dreams, and when he dreams he can change reality. So yea, it's smack in sci-fi territory, so if that is off-putting to you, you'll want to think twice about reading this.
But I think you should. Le Guin is nothing if not one of the smartest sci-fi authors ever (she would say she wrote speculative fiction, as Atwood would also say). While some of her writing feels a bit academic (most definitely give The Left Hand of Darkness a miss if you do not like that style!) it is all in service to her greater agenda - showcasing the hardest aspects of being human, and not leaving you in the lurch at the end.
But I think you should. Le Guin is nothing if not one of the smartest sci-fi authors ever (she would say she wrote speculative fiction, as Atwood would also say). While some of her writing feels a bit academic (most definitely give The Left Hand of Darkness a miss if you do not like that style!) it is all in service to her greater agenda - showcasing the hardest aspects of being human, and not leaving you in the lurch at the end.
Thursday, January 31, 2019
Novik, Naomi (Empire of Ivory)
In this episode, we go to Africa! While it was a thrilling adventure, as Novik normally crafts, and especially it was thrilling to view the Cape of Good Hope in an alternate reality, it really felt like Novik was crafting her Politically Correct Novel, in and among the rest of the novels in this series.
That's being unfair to Novik's writing, and especially to her description of the homebase (and intricate workings) of the African dragonlords and their civilization. But she pushed a bit too hard on the slavery vs. anti-slavery theme (again, fairly, a real conflict within the British empire at this time), and the evils of colonialism. We got it, really we did. Again, the African homebase description was brilliantly and inventively described, but the novel came with a lot of extra killing and death (yes, even the dragons are among those) in service to this novel's plot.
At least she ends it on a high note. (Joke. It's downright upsetting and I would like to find out what happens sooner than later, except I have 20 other books in my "to-read" list in front of this one.)
That's being unfair to Novik's writing, and especially to her description of the homebase (and intricate workings) of the African dragonlords and their civilization. But she pushed a bit too hard on the slavery vs. anti-slavery theme (again, fairly, a real conflict within the British empire at this time), and the evils of colonialism. We got it, really we did. Again, the African homebase description was brilliantly and inventively described, but the novel came with a lot of extra killing and death (yes, even the dragons are among those) in service to this novel's plot.
At least she ends it on a high note. (Joke. It's downright upsetting and I would like to find out what happens sooner than later, except I have 20 other books in my "to-read" list in front of this one.)
Graham, Lauren (Someday, Someday, Maybe)
Ms. Graham! You are not a bad writer! Hey, look, it's better than saying "don't give up your day job", right?
Because she's way better than that. I love her (downright adore) her as an actress, which is why I read her autobiography, and then re-watched all of Gilmore Girls, added Parenthood to the list of "must watch someday", and then put this book on my to-read shelf. I wouldn't have done all that if I didn't think she was a decent writer as well as actress.
But she's a newbie to novel writing. It wasn't that the story didn't have delightful plot mechanisms or strong characterizations. It's that her characters weren't consistent. For example, how Franny acts in front of casting agents vs. how she acts on the red carpet seemed inconsistent. She was alternately very sure and completely unsure of herself - and both are actually the act of acting! Perhaps that is what it is like before you land your first solid gig, but it felt very odd to me (Penelope made way more sense). Also, when she does the extended acting scene with James Franklin (as one of my favorite Goodreads reviewers put it, that "douchnozzle"), the progress of that scene didn't mesh at ALL with his personality.
Also it felt a little like she was providing newbie actors some tips. Here's what it's going to be like doing a commercial. They may binder clip your shirt in the back! They'll act like you're a star which you won't be used to! They may ask you to be naked (ok, not in commercials)! Figure out whether you want to be or not! Franny is always musing on giving master classes when she's famous, and it feels sometimes like this novel was Graham's master class.
Because she's way better than that. I love her (downright adore) her as an actress, which is why I read her autobiography, and then re-watched all of Gilmore Girls, added Parenthood to the list of "must watch someday", and then put this book on my to-read shelf. I wouldn't have done all that if I didn't think she was a decent writer as well as actress.
But she's a newbie to novel writing. It wasn't that the story didn't have delightful plot mechanisms or strong characterizations. It's that her characters weren't consistent. For example, how Franny acts in front of casting agents vs. how she acts on the red carpet seemed inconsistent. She was alternately very sure and completely unsure of herself - and both are actually the act of acting! Perhaps that is what it is like before you land your first solid gig, but it felt very odd to me (Penelope made way more sense). Also, when she does the extended acting scene with James Franklin (as one of my favorite Goodreads reviewers put it, that "douchnozzle"), the progress of that scene didn't mesh at ALL with his personality.
Also it felt a little like she was providing newbie actors some tips. Here's what it's going to be like doing a commercial. They may binder clip your shirt in the back! They'll act like you're a star which you won't be used to! They may ask you to be naked (ok, not in commercials)! Figure out whether you want to be or not! Franny is always musing on giving master classes when she's famous, and it feels sometimes like this novel was Graham's master class.
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