This was woefully uneven, with transparent twists and egregious, even amateurish stumbles in POV, all of three. Agnes is by far the most coPen Is Envy
This was woefully uneven, with transparent twists and egregious, even amateurish stumbles in POV, all of three. Agnes is by far the most convincing of the two teen voices, a good exemplification of the effects of being raised in a puritanical regime. Meanwhile, secular Canadian Daisy doesn’t think to curb her language in one of the most dangerous regimes and barely blinks an eye after her parents die, although they raised her all her life. I’ve read YA hacks who wrote more plausible teens.
As for Aunt Lydia’s POV, while I appreciated the attempt to make her more nuanced than the straightforward villainy of the previous book, her defection lacks some psychological rationale. Why betray Gilead now, when she benefited from it for all those years? I suppose that is the logical pitfall you fall into when you base your premise on ex-American career women abetting an oppressive misogynistic regime for decades. I did appreciate her backstory, though, particularly on how she and her fellows were stripped from their rights. The symposium afterword tried to cast doubt into the accounts in a bit of meta play, but this attempt at ambiguity failed.
And yet. Dare I say it, I liked the experience of reading this more so than Handmaid’s Tale. At a certain point I was actually turning pages. Color me surprised. I almost wanted to revisit Atwood’s first book, which is saying something. Atwood is as assured a writer as ever, but her ticks and indulgences come in strong here as well. And unfortunately, Gilead still remains a bit of allegorical magic realism saved only by Atwood’s understanding of religio-fascist societies and their contradictions. Still a better dystopia than The Hunger Games, though. ...more
Change all the names, and this is just another historical novel regurgitating standard feminist retelling tAn OC Wearing the Character As A Flesh Suit
Change all the names, and this is just another historical novel regurgitating standard feminist retelling tropes of forced marriage, foreign land, abusive husband, monster love interest, and evil violent men. This is not a retelling of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, or even revisionist—this Lady Macbeth is no fiery chauvinist and willing accomplice to murder, but a teenage Norman girl with only timid forays at agency and scheming. Oy.
I confess myself disappointed. Murder aside, the original Macbeths had a pretty good partnership going on, and Lady Macbeth, fierce as she was, was no sociopath. She could have been a good POV character for a faithful retelling. As it is, this novel feels as if Reid just took the aesthetics of Shakespeare’s play and made her own story, which the marketing willfully obscures. Sadly, this original tale isn’t original either. For a better example of Reid’s attractive and supple style, see her Juniper & Thorn, a much more successful rendition of the same themes. ...more
Published fanfiction can really be a double-edged sword. For a novel about witchcraft, astrology, and Shakespeare’s Dark Lady, tThis Rose Lacks Thorns
Published fanfiction can really be a double-edged sword. For a novel about witchcraft, astrology, and Shakespeare’s Dark Lady, this was a bore from the first page on, rushed and loosely, lazily conceived. Rose was scarcely believable as a Dark Lady worthy of ensnaring or even being misunderstood by Shakespeare; for all her reputed feistiness, she was passive, conventional, and as dull as dishwater. Even this Will came out more interesting, though he was yet another iteration of Typical Man™ Will that our protagonist rightful disdains and challenges. He isn’t even described as handsome and charismatic (though she is still attracted to him and sleeps with him…okay, then).
Rose’s true love is actually (view spoiler)[her friend, (hide spoiler)] but she conveniently doesn’t realize this until after her affair with Will. And of course there is the weird yuckiness of Rose insisting to this Will—over his own protests—that he is in love with Southampton. Only Will has (implied) internalized homophobia, while Rose has no such prejudices to overcome, only mere emotional unintelligence. And only Will is framed as skeezy for his adultery, while Rose gets a pass for own despite the fact that both were forced into marriage. The whole plot point about Shakespeare’s sonnets actually outing Rose as a witch, leading to her trial, was a rip-off of an "Upstart Crow" episode, except perhaps done worse.
I frankly don’t know what the point of writing fanfiction that deals with Shakespeare in some form while also being so hostile to him. Fandoms can turn on the object of their worship on a dime for either good or bad reasons, but Shakespeare has been Shakespeare for a very long time—a very fascinating mystery. You could literally make him anything you want and massage in the hard facts accordingly.
My best guess? Marketing purposes. It would explain why Shakespeare is only a bit player here. At least Rose’s attraction is well-rendered. ...more
Catch A Falling Star and Drag Her to Your Village, Never Let Her Get Away
Well, this is awkward. I have heard so much about Gaiman, but I haven’t reallCatch A Falling Star and Drag Her to Your Village, Never Let Her Get Away
Well, this is awkward. I have heard so much about Gaiman, but I haven’t really read much of his work. This indulgent bit of fluff was perhaps not the best introduction.
The problem, I think, is the whimsical tone clashing with the dark adult fairy tale realism. The mix was inelegant and frankly off-putting; it turned me off early, and things didn’t improve from there.
I also had to question whether or not plot points were meant to be taken as satire and which were not. Because I’m telling you, Tristan is the worst hero protagonist I have read in a long while, almost a parody of a hero deconstruction. The false love with the hot chick is par de course, but homeboy still decides to drag this poor and very human star to his village. And all semblance of the star Ygritte’s personality is thrown out the window when she decides she loves Tristan.
In short, this was not romantic nor whimsical enough for a fairy tale, nor did it have the plausible rigor of an actual fantasy novel. It was just a middling muddle....more
Now, this was a harrowing, roller-coaster of a read. The depiction of the cult was pitch-perfect, and their awful doublespeak was hilarioBubble People
Now, this was a harrowing, roller-coaster of a read. The depiction of the cult was pitch-perfect, and their awful doublespeak was hilarious. The undercover section was nail-biting in its tension; the church going after the agency was also fantastic. Reading Robin’s chapters alone had me beside myself.
That said, the reveal of the perpetrator did not completely satisfy me. And Robin should have been more of a wreck after the abuse she endured and witnessed, not to mention her prior traumas. Homegirl has ovaries of steel, no doubt, but there should have been more follow-up. At least she did get some catharsis facing her oppressors. But perhaps Rowling realized that even writing a too-close third person limited would be too much horror for us to handle. Perhaps it's for the best; this cult feels all-too real....more
Found this one in the library, and so I—swooped!—picked it up, a freebie of a classic. Sadly, I didn’t dig it. The This Cat Doesn’t Know Where It’s At
Found this one in the library, and so I—swooped!—picked it up, a freebie of a classic. Sadly, I didn’t dig it. The prose did have a verve, a feverish jazzy poesy that is a little (okay, quite) infectious. Dean’s entrance into the narrative did make me stir from my stupor.
But the plot was pure one-damned-thing-after-another and for all that Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty have some of the most romantic names I have encountered in fiction, they are utterly wasted on such charmless immature vagabonds. Dean especially sounded (and acted) like he was three going on thirty. Get this cat a collar already....more
Frollo’s trouble with the fireplace really sunk its teeth into this book’s psyche, didn’t it? At least there wereÊtre Psycho Prêtre et Aimer Une Femme
Frollo’s trouble with the fireplace really sunk its teeth into this book’s psyche, didn’t it? At least there were callbacks to Victor Hugo’s original work, so kudos to the author for research, I guess.
I could talk about Cade and Amaya and how they and their dynamic become more and more implausible as the story goes along. I could talk about the plot holes. I could talk about the misogyny dripping from the narrative. I could talk about the bonkers (if hugely entertaining) mutual masturbation scenes. I could talk about the sudden and unnatural attempt by the author to make Amaya as morally gray as Cade even when her character just…isn’t.
But it’s really not worth it for an ultimately fun Frollo/Esmeralda fanfic read, so I’ll just give into my troll instincts and leave you with this:
Let’s put aside the dull pacing, the repetition, and the generally bad writing for a moment. I want to talk about nThis Is the Skin of A Cougar, Hayes
Let’s put aside the dull pacing, the repetition, and the generally bad writing for a moment. I want to talk about narrative.
Because our culture has old-as-dirt myths and fairy tales—and it’s many, many derivatives—of a rich older man living anew by having a relationship with younger poor woman, and that younger woman getting the benefits of wealth, status, and experience in return (sometimes even beauty!). In real life, of course, such matches are looked on with glaring suspicion, but art has always been much more favorable. Our culture, obviously, has put it a lot of creative energy into making these matches not only acceptable, but desirable.
So I must question that same May-December narrative—except this time it’s an older woman with a younger man—being obsessively consumed by the age gap in ways that its sibling narratives aren’t. Not even Edward Cullen had as much hand-wringing angst as Solène does for her relationship with Hayes. Solène is barely forty, no trauma or emotional scars or hangups—a normal-ass mom and divorcée. Hayes is a successful rock star in his own right with plenty of experience in the bedroom. No virgins, no wealth or power disparity, no personal trauma—but let’s sigh ahimè for 300 pages anyway. What do you mean, it gets old? Isn’t it so taboo? Isn’t a relationship between an older woman and a younger man the most forbidden fruit of all?
Of course it ends realistically—my only question is, why must it? What is the point of reading another flash-in-the-pan romance that ultimately leads nowhere? I’m not expecting Disney-with-songs-by-Alan-Menken. I’m expecting something out of it. As it is, the novel assumes a problematic read on the relationship than is warranted. ...more
I’m honestly impressed Cole got away with this type of forbidden romance for as much as she did, especially in this neo-Puritan climatA Tor-rid Affair
I’m honestly impressed Cole got away with this type of forbidden romance for as much as she did, especially in this neo-Puritan climate. Dare I say it, she covered her tracks well enough and the relationship was written tastefully enough.
Well, sort of. Chemistry-wise, it was lacking. There were some spicy moments, but there was a friends-with-benefits vibe that these two could not quite shake off by the end. The marriage-with-kid ending, thus, did not feel as rewarding or truly suitable.
I think having a clear and starker inciting incident—the Moment(tm) Tor and/or Kenzi realize their feelings have become non-platonic—would have fixed much of this. Jealousy is usually enough to bitch-slap either one or the other into a romantic epiphany, but it could have been something significant as well. Friends-to-lovers romances always need to cross that point of no return. As it is, it was just many desultory casual incidents that piled up.
There was also an issue of bloat and lack of focus. Part of it was the novel’s insistence on including snapshots of Tor taking care of Kenzi, which diluted the romance by 1) the ick factor of him knowing her so early and 2) fleshing out the past unnecessarily. The focus should have been in building up the new romantic relationship instead of dwelling on the old friendship. The vignettes with Tor, Asher, and Ember were much more necessary in that they set up the stakes. Otherwise they impeded the present-day romance something awful.
(Also, the Jacob/Renesmee vibes were nigh impeccable, especially in the scene when Tor admits to having a crush on Kenzi’s mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if this were reworked fanfiction.) ...more
It’s an entertaining yarn, as far as yarns go, though one that began to get tedious right as Athena’s ghost popped up.
The tale The Annie Waters Scene
It’s an entertaining yarn, as far as yarns go, though one that began to get tedious right as Athena’s ghost popped up.
The tale is a satiric fable as on-the-nose as any cloying medieval morality play: The jealous white writer friend (June) of a successful Asian American author (Athena) steals the unpublished manuscript of her latest work right after her death. The villain protagonist gets progressively worse from there as she profits shamelessly from the sale of her more talented rivals’ work, fending off Internet criticism of her insensitive editing of Athena’s work. There are also some satiric jabs at the clueless white editors dulling Athena’s pointed narrative about Chinese exploitation by Westerners.
There are some pointed if weak attempts to add nuance—framing Athena’s penchant for fictionalizing real life people and events as “stealing” and facile Internet criticism of Athena’s own oeuvre as culturally inaccurate. Of course using real-life details is barely ethically questionable, and Kuang can come up with no greater Internet criticism than Athena describing “almond-shaped eyes.” And it’s easy to see through June’s bitter, delusional narration at once.
All of this shows Kuang’s deft writing, no doubt, but also her limitations. This book is authorial catharsis, pure and simple, a meta indulgence. At least it wasn’t as offensive as that baffling Babel. ...more
Well, kudos to Reintgen for having the balls to make his female protagonist this monstruous morally compromised, I guess. And for what itKylo Ren Ren
Well, kudos to Reintgen for having the balls to make his female protagonist this monstruous morally compromised, I guess. And for what it’s worth, the twist is a fairly unique one.
Unfortunately this twist, while in character for Ren, stretches plausibility. It also has some disturbing implications regarding this book’s themes of class warfare. Must we really have another book on how a low-income plebeian’s righteous anger against rich people is actually problematic? I’d have to re-read this to make sure, but I suspect major plot holes.
As for the rest, the survival adventure was interesting at first—a welcome change in pace from the dutiful worldbuilding info dump—up until the second death. Then it became really tedious, with a long drawn-out denouement. There was virtually no character development—Ren is still intent on her revenge quest, Theo barely came to like her, and the other three characters ended up as red shirts, killed off so casually I barely even stirred. It would be different if Ren had caught feelings and denied them, but that wasn’t the case here.
There is a way you can make a female character a cunning, ruthless social climber and still be compelling. But this isn’t it....more
Three stars because the writing was strong, the historical realism impressive. This YA actually has craft. All in all, I agree with the PrNo Ama A Ama
Three stars because the writing was strong, the historical realism impressive. This YA actually has craft. All in all, I agree with the Printz people. But I do have some caveats:
1. The beginning following Emory meeting his dragon was almost unnecessary. I say almost, because otherwise we’d question whether Emory even met the dragon in the first place—for all we know, the guy could have just kidnapped his damsel. It also reveals Emory’s character early on. Unfortunately it was a very slow start to the story, which makes me wish Arnold had just begun with Ama.
2. It’s a feminist interpretation of standard prince-kills-dragon-and-marries-girl fare, which makes a lot of the themes and twists and betrayals very predictable and on-the-nose for the savvy reader. Is the mystery of Ama’s origins and how Emory defeated the dragon even a mystery? If I knew from it from the second chapter, then you’d know it too. That said, the story is very much not trying to make a grand mystery over it, so it’s not a true criticism.
3. Speaking of feminist societal commentary…the feminism is really on the rad-fem side. Expect abusive entitled men, brainwashed women, and woman’s ~mystical connection with Nature. Very textbook.
4. The ending was abrupt but punchy, leading me to suspect this was actually a short-story-turned-YA-novel. For a short story it would have been fantastic, but a novel needs a little more…more. Plus, it was just bizarre.
It’s all nitpicking, I guess. Really, it’s just the rad-fem vibes that are off-putting. For teens dealing with truly dark shit, this should be illuminating. For the rest, read for the craft. ...more
This is one of the rarest retellings I’ve ever read that went from a slow and predictably subversive retelling of Twain in Jim’s POV (nowOld Man River
This is one of the rarest retellings I’ve ever read that went from a slow and predictably subversive retelling of Twain in Jim’s POV (now a snarky literate and sophisticate) to actually riveting literary glory to…just straight-up indulgent revenge fantasy. Oy.
So it’s fairly obvious what happened: Everett was just way more comfortable with the sections where he doesn’t have to contend with Huck and thus Twain’s canon. Because once Jim is on his own with his fellow slaves, things get ten times more interesting and thematically significant. So it’s unfortunate that it dissolved into improbable cool-story-bro fanfic once Jim and Huck were reunited. It’s also unfortunate that Everett stuck to Twain’s episodic one-damn-thing-after-another structure, one of my least favorite aspects about the original novel.
(Also, what’s with this weird micro trend of authors making canonical characters white-passing POC in retellings? It honestly just gives me the racism.) ...more
I’ll admit, I was skeptical of this genderbent exercise, given the very specifically female-centric Death-aJoke’s On You, I’m Into That Shit (Round 2)
I’ll admit, I was skeptical of this genderbent exercise, given the very specifically female-centric Death-and-the-maiden narrative of the original. So this surprised me, albeit in ways I completely expected—Bella/Beau and Edward/Edythe were essentially unchanged; Meyer even retains their complex dynamic. Some changes even gave a radical edge to the original—thanks to the nature of the genderbending, the Cullens and the Quileutes are led by matriarchs. Nice.
The second half, though, saw much more difficulties. Beau’s victimization is by narrative necessity, but much of the thematic symbolism and import of the James hunt sequence (the ballet studio and thus the commentary on male sexual predation) were diminished. The info dumping of vampiric lore was not as seamless or judicious as the original, and the changes made to the Cullens’ backstories made them much weaker. The alternative ending did give it the grace of being novel, but it was unfortunately rushed.
I’m just sad that Meyer even felt the need to come out with a genderbent version in the first place. Yes, literally no one would have any problem with Twilight had it been about a young horny guy and a hot vampiress. Yes, Beau would have been loved for precisely the same reasons Bella is hated. Yes, Edythe stalking Beau would be considered nowhere near as transgressive as Edward stalking Bella. But responding to bad faith criticism rarely works in dispelling that bad faith criticism—it amounts, in short, to feeding the trolls. And the number one rule of both the Internet and art is that you do not feed the trolls. ...more
So making the upbringing of a wild owl-baby as your whole grand metaphor for the trials of motherhood, heterosexism, and the plighMa Petite Chou(ette)
So making the upbringing of a wild owl-baby as your whole grand metaphor for the trials of motherhood, heterosexism, and the plight of disabled or autistic kids may not have been the best artistic endeavor in the world. But honestly, I’m just embarrassed it didn’t work out entirely, especially with as good a prose as this. It should have been like shooting fish in a barrel! Instead I was left vaguely disgusted and even vaguely sympathetic towards the husband antagonist. He actually taught the owl-baby how to speak, read, and write. The true monster, obviously.
Oshetsky may have been experimenting with unreliable narrators and the dark side of motherhood or just laying out the cold unvarnished truth about raising severely disabled kids. But mostly this read more of a radfem’s view of motherhood, to the point of parody. ...more
This trifle actually won the Printz? Well, not trifle—that implies something light, frothy, and fun. This was merely boring andAncestors, Hear My Plea
This trifle actually won the Printz? Well, not trifle—that implies something light, frothy, and fun. This was merely boring and overly long, a predictable mystery with a soap opera-level resolution with poor pacing until the climax.
In a way, it reminded me of Louise Erdrich’s superior but similarly flawed The Round House: Too many themes and plots interweaved with each other and so none of them get fully developed. There is Daunis’s half-native, half-white heritage, her genteelly prejudiced grandmother’s illness, her will-she-won’t-she with Jaime, the mystery of the meth deaths, coming-of-age shenanigans, Native American religion and spirituality, history of native oppression and marginalization, the FBI involvement, sexual assault and misogyny, white racism, tribal politics…it’s a jumbo soup.
And of course Boulley has the annoying but typically YA tendency of explicitly writing out her Important Themes, even in the oddest of places. My personal last straw came when Daunis started to wax poetic about community solidarity after the Elders rescued her from her kidnapping. Daunis, you’ve just been betrayed by and kidnapped by members of that same community. Keep your eyes peeled and get a clue. (Not that that whole climax wasn’t ridiculously over-the-top, as if to make up for a somnolent two-quarters.)
As for Daunis herself, in theory she would be a well-rounded character, well-defined and dynamic. In actual reading she was an utter bore. It didn’t help matters that Boulley underwrote her reactions to Lily’s death and Travis’ suicide and even to her own trauma. But that’s what happens when you stuff your plot too much; of far more consequence was the badly-written rape scene. Boulley also barely committed to the romance with too-perfect and anemic undercover agent Jaime, for obviously tiresome reasons.
I don’t know, but I feel that had Boulley stuck with at least one of the three major strands—coming of age, murder mystery, or romance—the themes could have been developed much more richly, instead of being bogged down by their own weight. At least most of the ideas were conveyed clearly, if just through the sheer bulk of the work. ...more
Well, this was a more interesting premise than Collins’ original trilogy, for sure. The seeds for a psychological draÊtre Douchebag Et Aimer Une Femme
Well, this was a more interesting premise than Collins’ original trilogy, for sure. The seeds for a psychological drama are there—though the Hunger Games has, and always will be, a bit of worldbuilding stupidity not even the narrative (Collins herself?) can pretend to care about. It’s a rough draft now, but it’d be intriguing to see what the published form would be once it’s fully edited—
Oh, wait, no. This is an actual published book. Never mind, this was a soul-sucking waste of time. Collins’ writing has barely improved—in fact, I’d say it’s worse, an extraordinarily removed third person narrative jaw-dropping in its indifference. Katniss’ first person narrative may have been emotionally flat, but it did at least have immediacy. There was none of that here. Murder, betrayal, intrigue, and increasingly deranged elite apologia abound, but it’s all conveyed in a summarized anesthetic tell-not-show prose. And Collins’ understanding of both poverty and upper-crust elitism are still woefully rudimentary, so in substance not much has changed.
Any character development? None whatsoever. Coriolanus begins as an elitist Capitol waterboy and remains that way, almost stubbornly, rendering this whole exercise in villain origin story fairly useless. Romance? Established with decent UST during the Games and then fell flat. Collins could have leaned into the Frollo/Esmeralda, Don José/Carmen parallels; instead she chose a (subverted) star-crossed lover dynamic ill-suited for the pair. By the end I was seriously questioning Lucy Gray’s and Sejanus’s intelligence for trusting him, the only (very slightly) rounded characters amid flat, one-note mouthpieces.
As for Lucy Gray’s songs…I won’t lie, when I first picked up this tome I quit at the very first song. I almost wept in relief when I reached the Wordsworth. Only “The Hanging Tree” is at all memorable, a genuinely haunting, well-rhymed ditty, but of course that was from the first book. The rest ranged from serviceable to horrendous, in desperate need of a good composer to justify their mediocrity. For a Coriolanus and Sejanus worth reading, head to Shakespeare and Ben Jonson instead....more
Always wanted to read more Baldwin, but I could never get past the much anthologized “Sonny’s Blues,” always Internalized Homophobia Is One Hella Drug
Always wanted to read more Baldwin, but I could never get past the much anthologized “Sonny’s Blues,” always left me cold. This novel though is much better, Baldwin’s cool, elegant prose providing an emotionally transparent snapshot of mid-century queer culture in Paris. David was awful in precisely the right ways—completely delusional and inauthentic until forced to admit otherwise, clinging to his picket-fence American hetero dream with his fingertips. And of course he isn’t the only one to suffer the consequences of his self-hatred. Very ballsy for the ‘50s and definitely ahead of its time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off to mourn Giovanni. ...more
Something Is Rotten In the State of North Carolina
Honestly, the fact that this won a Pulitzer is the most interesting part of what is ultimately just Something Is Rotten In the State of North Carolina
Honestly, the fact that this won a Pulitzer is the most interesting part of what is ultimately just a very shallow and dumb modern adaptation of a classic. As the kids say, it’s so unserious.
It isn’t without its humor or craft; actually, it was very readable even in page form, so on stage it must be something entertaining indeed. The failure lies in the increasingly strained and ultimately irrelevant Hamlet tie-in. The play substitutes Shakespeare’s psychological drama for tired sociological truisms of toxic masculinity and generational divides that nevertheless end up unintentionally supporting these anyway. An original black comedy on the absurdities of patriarchy and toxic masculinity is one thing; IJames using Hamlet as a plot framework and diminishing its tragic mode is another. As it is, the play fails in doing either very well. We live in an era of remakes, unfortunately, so no doubt IJames felt obliged to put a personal round peg in the Shakespeare square hole. But that still doesn’t make the irrelevancy of this play any better....more
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