Flight into Fantasy

I’m not sure that I would have picked up The Sunday Wife by Cassandra King had it not been for the fact that a book club I’m involved with is reading it. It’s women’s fiction, the only experience of which I have involves the works of Robyn Carr. But I don’t regret having read the book, and I’m eager to discuss it with my book club.

Dean Lynch is a preacher’s wife. Her husband is an ambitious pastor in the Methodist church, and Dean has always chafed under the restrictions his duties place upon her. When she and Ben move to Crystal Springs, Florida, though, her life changes when she meets and is befriended by Augusta Holderfield. From a distance, these two women have nothing in common. Augusta was raised with wealth and privilege. Dean, in the meantime, was raised by backwoods drunk rednecks. Augusta is wild and vivacious, while Dean is thoughtful and careful. But the two develop a bond. But when a tragedy strikes, Dean will have to reevaluate all her priorities and beliefs in order to figure out her place in life.

The thing that pleasantly surprised me about this book was how flawed the characters were. Dean is by no means a poor put upon woman whose life sucks due to her martyrdom. She does martyr herself a lot, but she’s also kind of judgmental and passive aggressive. In this way, she and her husband, Ben, are perfect for each other, because Ben is also great at being passive aggressive as well as a complete douchebag. At the beginning of the book, I was afraid that I couldn’t stomach 500 pages of Dean and Ben being horrible people to each other. But Dean grew on me. I found mmyself empathizing with the struggles she went through, and as the book went on, I kept encouraging her to leave the life she was leading, which clearly didn’t suit her, and get a new start.

This isn’t going to be an easy book for some readers of this blog to get through, and that’s another of the book’s surprises. We have adultery, some of which Dean disapproves of, some of which she justifies. The paragons of loving relationships that are most obvious are a gay couple. And King doesn’t seem to be saying verry positive things about organized religion, especially things involving church politics. If those things bother you, then you ought to skip this book. But for the most part, all those things worked for me. The gay couple is adorable, the adultery gave the book a dash of realism that I appreciated even if I didn’t always approve, and I can well imagine there being some truth to what Dean thinks about church politics.

If I have any quibbles with this book, it’s that I thought Dean took a long time to finally manage a new start for herself. She didn’t take the steps necessary to get to a happier place on her own initiative. She was reacting to the circumstances around her, and she basically had to wait until she had no other choice. I also hated the final treatment of Ben. Dean’s last encounter with her husband is ludicrous and anticlimactic. I wanted a bit more oomph there, and I’m still a bit angry that I never got it.

Overall though, I really did enjoy this book, and I would read more Cassandra King if given the opportunity. I’d recommend it to fans of women’s fiction who like a bit of darkness in their books, and who are open-minded to flawed characters. This one gets a B+ from me.
Note: I read this book via Bookshare. Also, I could not find other reviews. If you’ve read this book, let me know what you think of it in the comments!

I’ve been making an effort to read more deliberately. By which I mean I’m trying to savor the books I read and not power through them. I got that opportunity last week when I visited relatives in New Mexico. (I’d gone to spend time with the two-month-old nephew, who of course is adorable and deserves a post of his own at some point.)

Anyway, the book I took on my plane was the audio version of venetia by Georgette Heyer. For those of you not up on your romance novel history, Georgette Heyer was basically the creator of the Regency romance as we know them today. She wrote from 1926 until her death in 1972 and in addition to historical romances she wrote mysteries as well. I would argue that there isn’t a historical romance author who isn’t a little bit influenced by Heyer. If they’ve never read Heyer, then they’ve certainly read other authors who have.

I have read a couple of Heyer’s other romances, and quite enjoyed them, but Venetia was the first Heyer book I loved. And I loved everything about it–the characters, the plot, Heyer’s writing. I’m afraid I am not capable of reading another historical romance for a little while, since I don’t want to be drawing comparisons between whatever unfortunate bookI choose to read and this one.

The plot is nothing romance readers haven’t seen before. We have Venetia, the young and inexperienced country girl living in impoverished gentility at her fammily estate, managing it and taking care of her scholarly and crippled brother, Aubrey. Venetia is vaguely discontented with her life, but she doesn’t really see any way out of it. At least not until her older brother Conway returns home, which he’s not inclined to do. However, her life changes rather abruptly when Lord Damerel, a notorious rake, moves into the estate next door, which has belonged to his family but remained unoccupied for years. Even though people have warned Venetia about what a horrible reputation Damerel has, she falls in love with him anyway. And then, like all good drawing room comedies, a series of circumstances contrive to keep them apart until the inevitable end.

The characters are absolutely wonderful. Venetia is unconventional in a way that other romance heroines wish they were. I liked her, because she was guileless and flirty and full of laughter. She doesn’t take the world all that seriously, nor does she expect the world to take her seriously in return. She’s not a whiny martyr, either, and she doesn’t view the world through rose-colored glasses. She is also perfect for Damerel, who she can laugh with and who finds the world absurd. Damerel’s cynicism is an excellent compliment to Venetia’s unworldliness. And then there’s Aubrey. Y’all know how squeamish I am about reading about disabled characters in my books. But Aubrey was wonderful. He wasn’t the moral center of Venetia’s life, and he was as flawed as any other character, despite his disability. And, of course, the thing that endears Damerel to Venetia is how Damerel treats him.

The plot is perfect for a Regency romance. There are the requisite drawing room visits, the look at London’s fashionable set, and in the end everyone gets what they deserve. But here again Heyer surprises me. Venetia doesn’t need to be rescued from wild scrapes. When she decides to go after Damerel, she does so with a vengeance and she gets him in a way that was perfect.

As for the romance, despite the fact that there are no bedroom scenes, it was hot. I very much felt the chemistry between the two of them. Of course, it might have helped matters that I was a little bit in love with Damerel myself. I loved his passion, and I loved his vulnerability, which was evident in his self-mocking attitude. I also liked that he was as ruthless as Venetia turned out to be. And the best part about the romance? Heyer lets us see their developing friendship. She contrasts Venetia’s friendship with Damerel to the other men who’ve sought her hand, and leaves the reader in no doubt whatsoever as to her suitability with Damerel.

I don’t know how much more I can squee about this book before y’all get sick and tired of hearing about it. Just go forth and read it. You will not be sorry that you did, especially if you like a well-written romance with excellent characters. I did not want this book to end, and I took a lot longer to read it because I was so much in love with these characters that I didn’t want their story to be over. Obviously, this one rates an A.

Other Opinions

• Vulpes Libris

Hi, Internets,

I know, I know. I haven’t been blogging for a while, and now I’m going to post a book review like I expect you to just be OK with my flakiness and forgive me. What can I say? Flakiness is part of my charm.

Anyway, lately I have been absorbed in what I lovingly refer to as werewolf pr0n. (And won’t that make for some fun search results?) I plan to talk about two of my werewolf pr0n reads in this post, and if you come back later, you could win a fabulous prize, which should, in itself, be insentive for you to put up with my blather.

Anyway, the Red Rock Pass series by Moira Rogers is far more than just werewolf pr0n. And I’m not just saying that because I think Bree and Donna are the bee’s knees. There is plenty of smut to be found in the books, but there’s also political intrigue, werewolf politics, and witty banter, and if you don’t like any of those things, then I really don’t know why you’re here.

I had read the first book in the series a couple of years ago, and so when I went to catch up on the series I’d found that I’d forgotten a lot. And this isn’t good, since the second book picks the action right up.

Sanctuary Lost is the second book in the series. Brynn Adler and her sister Abby have been living in Red Rock Pass for a few weeks now. Red Rock Pass is basically a safe place for newly turned werewolves, because their pack alphas aren’t overbearing, power-hungry jerks. But that’s not quite enough for Brynn. She hates that the events of the first book have made her afraid, and she hates that her humanity leaves her vulnerable. She is also inexorably drawn to Joe, one of the stronger members of the pack, and the feelings are mutual. Brynn wants Joe to help her through the transition into becoming a werewolf, but Joe’s been down that road, and it wasn’t very pretty. Plus, if that weren’t enough, the werewolves who were after Brynn and Abby in the first book are back. And soon the pack is dealing with another complication in the form of Sasha, an apprentice witch whose mentor was savagely attacked and killed and who now seeks sanctuary in Red Rock.

A lot is going on in this book, and if you wait a year and a half like I did in between reading the first and second book, it will take some getting used to. I eventually pieced together who everyone was, and found myself devouring the book in a matter of hours. The werewolf politics were absolutely gripping stuff, and I liked the addition of witches into the mix.

That being said, the romance was kind of weak. It’s not that Brynn and Joe were bad characters, because they’re not. And they did have chemistry, and I wasn’t unsatisfied by the way they got together. But there wasn’t really anything unique or fresh about them as a couple. Having read the book a few weeks ago, I’m hard pressed to remember any particular scenes between the two of them that stood out.

That being said, one of the things I did enjoy was Brynn’s relationship with her sister. It is complicated. Brynn is kind of a rebel, and Abby has always been there to mother her. Brynn chafes at this, but her love for her sister is very obvious. In short, it was a very realistic sister dynamic. As someone who is close to my own sister, I love reading about other close sister bonds.

One last thing. I also appreciated that long-lasting romance doesn’t make couples invulnerable. There was a heartbreaking scene featuring Abby and Keith from the first book that surprised me, because I hadn’t been expecting any further complications in their relationship.

While I enjoyed Sanctuary :Lost , I loved Sanctuary’s Price. And I can express my love in two words: beta hero.

You see, Internets, I am that rare breed of romance reader that would rather read about vulnerable men than men who always kick ass with no difficulty. And Dylan Gennaro is that man. He came from the evil pack that’s been bothering Brynn and Abby, and now in Red Rock he’s something of a local hero, having had a shining moment of badassery at the end of Sanctuary Lost. This is a first for him. In his old pack, he was pretty much beaten into submission, having to always hide his wolfish instincts, so he’s got a lot of scars.

Sasha, the witch we met in the previous book, also has scars. She’s been thrust into this world without her mentor, and the wolves need her magic. When the pack alphas ask Sasha and Dylan to work together to study some pack lore, they find themselves fighting their attraction. Then, a wolf pack in Maine finds itself in trouble, and there are vampires causing havoc, so it’s road trip time, during which time Sasha and Dylan must evaluate their feelings and make some difficult choices.

Right. So I’ve talked about Dylan, and he really made this book for me. And while I did not love Sasha, I did like her a lot. I liked that they were both two very wounded people who needed each other to recover from their various emotional scars. That kept the power balance in the romance on an even keel, which made me believe in the romance arc.

There’s a lot going on, plot-wise. Again, I don’t think this is a standalone book, and yet again, Rogers doesn’t insult the reader’s intelligence. We’re expected to keep up with the twists and turns and the nonstop action. And some of that action makes certain events feel a bit rushed. But I didn’t mind. These books are quick reads, and the fourth book, Sanctuary Unbound, comes out tomorrow, so I won’t have to wait a year to catch up with the Red Rock crew.

A note to my blind readers: Samhain Publishing offers romance ebooks of all genres that are DRM-free and reasonably priced. If werewolf politics are not your thing, explore the site. You will find something there you like, if you’re into romance at all!

In the meantime, for everyone, stay tuned. You could win a copy of Sanctuary Unbound if you come back in a few hours. And you know you want some free books.

I’ve come to the conclusion fairly recently that my appetite for horror novels is not nearly as strong as it used to be. And not being a twelve-year-old boy, my tolerance for scatalogical humor isn’t all that high, either. But for some reason, Mark Henry works for me as an author. I absolutely adore his Amanda Feral series, of which Road Trip of the Living Dead is the second.

In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, go read my review of Happy Hour of the Damned, the first book in the series.

In this installment, Amanda’s gay vampire best friend Gil has started a vampire-making business. It goes horribly wrong, however, and the vampire he’s just made vows revenge. Plus, Amanda’s received news that her mother may be on the point of dying. So she, Gil, and their friend and fellow zombie, Wendy, embark on a road trip which turns out to be more exciting than any of them could have predicted. Along the way, they meet a hot werewolf, a creepy family, some cultists, and a moderately accurate psychic, as well as a host of others.

If you liked Happy Hour of the Damned you’ll like this installment. Amanda is still snarky, the jokes are often scatalogical, there are footnotes, and Henry still inverts and deconstructs urban fantasy tropes with aplomb. This time, Amanda gets a real love interest–or at least a lust interest, this being Amanda–which will complicate her life quite a lot. In fact, the requisite sex scene was absolutely hillarious, something I don’t find all that often.

I don’t really want to say much more about the book than that. Amanda should be experienced without my biases coming into play, and if I went into further detail, I’d be entering slavering fangirl mode, and nobody wants that.

There is a new book in this series, Battle of the Network Zombies which I have already purchased and plan to read. This series is great fun, and totally unlike anything else out there, as far as I know. A- for this one.

Other Opinions

• Love Vampires
• Tez Says
• The Book Girl

It was pretty much impossible not to hear about Liar by Justine Larbalestier last year. First there was the controversy in which Bloomsbury, its U.S. publisher, decided to put a white girl on the cover when the book’s heroine is, in fact, biracial. Then the reviews started trickling in, and the book received a lot of praise. So I added it to my TBR pile, and finally, finally got around to reading it.

I should point out that I am not really a fan of unreliable narrators. Generally, I like to cruise along trusting the narrator of the book I’m reading to tell me the story. I guess it boils down to the fact that I really don’t want to have to think about what I’m reading, especially since so much of what I do have to read outside of leisure time requires intense thought.

To that end, it took me a while to get enmeshed in Liar. I knew that Micah was a liar. She says so on the first page. And knowing that I couldn’t trust her made it hard to get involved, at least at first. Then something happened–I’m not sure what, exactly–and I got sucked in anyway. I needed to know what was true and what wasn’t. And when I reached the second part of the book and the plot twist that I’ve seen other reviewers mention, well, from there I just didn’t stop.

In the end, the novel worked for me. I still wasn’t sure that I liked Micah, but she is a character that will linger in my mind. For days after I read about her, I would wake up with questions and theories that I couldn’t tell anyone about, because this is not a book that should be spoiled. And, ultimately, I think that’s the best compliment an author can receive. Liar still makes me think. I still want to talk about it, and I definitely recommend it. An A for sure.

Other Opinions

There are zillions of reviews of this book. You can find oodles of them here.

P.S. I listened to this one on Audio. The narration was neither brilliant nor horrible, though they did cast the narrator well, since she had an appropriately young-sounding voice.

We all know that the hardest books to write about are the ones that didn’t move us one way or another. They come into our lives, we read them, and then quickly move on to the next book.

This was the experience I had with The Bride and the Beast by Teresa Medeiros. It featured prominently on several lists of romances with a Beauty and the Beast theme, so I figured it would be something I’d like. And while I didn’t dislike it, I wasn’t really in love either.

Our story takes place in 18th-century Scotland, in the village of Ballybliss. Apparently, to live in Ballybliss, there’s a requirement that someone drop you on your head repeatedly as a child. Put another way, none of these people, with the arguable exception of our heroine, are smarter than a fifth grader.

Our heroine is Gwendolyn Wilder, the plump, bookish daughter of the former clan chieftain’s steward. Gwen’s three sisters are all skanky whores in the making, but of course, Gwen is too pure and innocent for such things. When the Dragon, who is reported to have moved into the clan chieftain’s former castle and who is, incidentally, our hero, starts making demands of the villagers for vast sums of money, they decide to eliminate their strongest link and send Gwen to be a virgin sacrifice. The dragon takes her in, keeping her prisoner in his castle because if she knew who he was she could tell the villagers and somehow ruin his unnecessarily convoluted revenge scheme.

I liked our leads well enough. Gwen is the sgtronger character of the two, because even though she is pretty much a typical example of a romance novel heroine, she doesn’t go around insisting people call her the Dragon. The Dragon, on the other hand, sorely tested my patience. His identity is patently obvious to any reader who read the prologue, and I didn’t really buy his motivations for deciding to put forth such a cheesy disguise. Granted, he does live in Ballybliss, so maybe he, too, was dropped on his head as a child?

The romance between Gwen and her hero is cute if predictable. There is also a secondary romance between the Dragon’s one friend, the “plodding son of a minor viscount” and one of Gwen’s sisters, who is less debauched than the others. I actually enjoyed that subplot more, because I love a good beta hero and Tupper was adorable. Much more adorable than the Dragon.

Ultimately, though, this book is quite forgetable. I am not likely to remember it in the future, so I don’t feel comfortable recommending it. I’m also not sure how well it fits with my Beauty and the Beast theme this week, since the Dragon isn’t very beastly, and, in fact, the story is more Cupid and Psyche than anything else. I give this one a C.

Other Opinions

• All About Romance
• Mrs. Giggles

I love fantasy, and I love Gothic novels, and I’ve recently discovered that I love Juliet Marillier. So, of course, when I realized she had written a historical fantasy with Gothic undertones, I was all over it like white on rice. And with Heart’s Blood, which I bought when it first came out, she has succeeded in becoming one of my favorite fantasy authors.

This novel resembles the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale in several crucial aspects, but I wouldn’t call it a straightforward retelling. Marillier takes the story and makes it her own, and it works well. I loved it, and except for one quibble which is spoilerific and which I’ll talk about below, I’d recommend this wholeheartedly.

Caitrin is running away from home. Her father has recently died, and her scheming, opportunistic distant relations have moved in and taken charge. Cillian and his mother Ita are downright abusive, and eventually Caitrin just snaps and runs away. She travels west, eventually reaching the settlement of Whistling Tor. It turns out that Whistling Tor is cursed, but its chieftain has need of a scribe, and since that’s actually what Caitrin is trained for, she offers her services, since the alternative is continuing to run from Cillian and Ita. Whistling Tor is cursed, and even though she doesn’t really believe in the curse, she figures Cillian wouldn’t be foolish enough to risk it. Of course, Whistling Tor is cursed, and Caitrin is soon embroiled in trying to figure out how to break the curse and deal with the magic of the keep. She’s also drawn to Whistling Tor’s chieftain, Anluan, a complex man who has always felt that he was a prisoner at the Tor.

As with the other Marillier books I’ve read, I loved the characters. Caitrin is timid, and good at underestimating herself. But she’s stronger than she realizes, and it’s that strength that stands her in good stead. I liked how she takes her own advice to Anluan to heart about being brave in small steps.

Anluan is also wonderful. He’s basically a good man, trapped by the curse that afflicts his home. He’s given up hope that things will ever be any different, and he’s never really had to grow up and accept adult responsibilities. At least, not until Caitrin shows up and makes him think about what his duties are and makes him feel hope. The romance between Caitrin and Anluan is sweet. It develops gradually, and at a satisfying pace, and I definitely felt the chemistry between them. There’s no explicit sex, although there are sexual references throughout.

The rest of the cast was varied. I loved the various inhabitants of Whistling Tor, with one exception, and they certainly added color to the story. Some of them could very well have had their own books, and I liked that Caitrin came to care for all of them as much as she did Anluan.

The atmosphere is very Gothic. There are some downright spooky moments, and Whistling Tor certainly is exemplary of a Gothic castle. There are also lots of elements that the heroine must fight against, from Anluan’s initial hostility to the very real supernatural forces surrounding the castle.

The story is set in Ireland, during the time of the Norman conquest. It’s clear Marillier has done her homework, and she made the setting come alive for me. Now I’m even more anxious to read her much more famous Sevenwaters books, also set in the British isles.

So, with all that going for it, why doesn’t this rate an A? I’ll tell you why, but it involves a major spoiler, so please stop reading if you don’t want to know.

I hated Muirne, the eventual villain of the piece. She was the only character who doesn’t get even a bit of a sympathetic portrayal. She was basically an ambitious, power-hungry bitch who enjoyed making people miserable but remaining completely unnoticed. And of course, she doesn’t like Caitrin, and makes no bones about it. Given that both Caitrin and I distrusted her from the beginning, I found it irritating that no one else anywhere had ever suspected her of being so eeevil, especially since she doesn’t bother to hide her true motivations from Caitrin.

I guess I’m just tired of reading about shrill ambitious bitches who turn out to be the villain. Why can’t a woman be both ambitious and a decent person? It’s a cliche that bothers me, but might not disturb other readers.

The villain aside, I very much enjoyed this book. I love Marillier’s writing style, and I love the atmosphere and the sense of wonder she evinces in her books. This one rates a B+, and I can’t wait to read her Sevenwaters books!

Other Opinions

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I like fairy tale retellings, especially when they’re done in interesting ways I hadn’t ever considered, so I knew I would enjoy reading Alex Flyn’s Beastly. This is a retelling of Beauty and the Beast from the beast’s perspective.

Unlike Crazy Beautiful I find that I have a lot more positive things to say about Beastly now that I’ve given it time to settle. Flyn manages to successfully present the fairy tale in a modern setting, and Kyle/Adrian, the main character, is drawn very well.

Kyle Kingsbury is basically a little snot at the beginning of the book. He’s hot, he knows it, and he takes the opportunity to treat everyone like crap. Eventually, though, he picks the wrong person to humiliate when he snubs Kendra, a new girl who turns out to be a witch. She transforms him into a hideous beast, and, well, we all know where this is going. He’s got two years to make a girl fall in love with him. He convinces his father, a prominent newscaster, to move him into a brownstone in Brooklyn. His dad basically gives him an Amex card to do with as he will, hires a blind tutor, and he lives a pretty idyllic life, comparatively speaking, except for the beast thing. He eventually ends up changing his name to Adrian as well. And, of course, there is a girl for him. She’s nerdy, bookish Lindy, a scholarship student at his posh private high school. Unlike the traditional tale, Lindy isn’t pretty. And Lindy’s relationship with her father is much more complicated than it’s generally presented.

It’s hard not to like Kyle/Adrian, despite the fact that he’s such a brat at the beginning. His brattiness is explained–his father is too self-involved to pay much attention to his son, and anyway his dad is pretty much a grown-up version of his son. But Kyle/Adrian grows up over the course of the novel and realizes just how shallow and awful he has been. He learns to care about people–not just Lindy but Will, his tutor and Magda, his maid–seeing them for who they are and loving them for themselves and not what they can give him. And the message is delivered in a matter-of-fact manner that didn’t feel overly forced or preachy.

The other characters are also interesting. None of them are quite as well-drawn, in my opinion, as Kyle/Adrian, but I did have to mention Will, the tutor. He’s blind, and for the most part, Flyn got the blindness right. I didn’t even mind the end of Will’s story arc, which was hokey, because at the very least he was allowed to be a competent character who wasn’t a walking stereotype. I also loved Kendra, the witch, who takes an active part in the story beyond her initial curse. And Lindy was, of course, excellent. I could understand her motivations, and though I would have liked to glimpse the inside of her head, it wasn’t necessary and Flyn did a good job of portraying her evolving feelings for Kyle/Adrian.

There were also random intervals in which Kyle/Adrian talks with other transformed characters from other fairy tales in an online chat room. This was my favorite aspect of the book, as Flyn used these chats to subtly poke fun at fairy tale tropes. They were also quite funny, and, in at least one instance, surprisingly poignant. And I liked how Kyle tried to use the modern age to foil his curse. He creates a fake myspace profile and tries to meet girls online, only for them to turn out to be either too young, cops, or hideous old hags. Well, at least he tried, and I liked that Flyn went there.

I did have a few quibbles. The pacing starts out strong, but the middle dragged. For the most part I thought Flyn handled the fairy tales well, but I thought a few things were handled better than others. I didn’t really buy Kyle/Adrian’s obsession with his roses, for instance. And I also didn’t quite buy that Kyle’s dad would just hand over his Amex and say, “Sure, kid, go live by yourself with only a maid and a tutor for company as long as you’re out of my hair.” Maybe I could buy one of those, but not the other.

Overall, I was quite charmed by this book, and I felt that Flyn did the fairy tale justice. Apparently, Sleeping Beauty is the next fairy tale Flyn will tackle, and I look forward to reading it. As for this book, it rates a B-.

Other Opinions

Persnickity Snark
• Steph Su Reads
• The Ya Ya Yas
• YA Fabulous

P.S. I got this one from Bookshare.

Lauren Baratz-Logsted’s Crazy Beautiful was the first book I chose to read this week during my short exploration of the theme of Beauty and the Beast. It bears little actual resemblance to the fairy tale itself, except in very superficial ways, and it suffers from the fact that I waited almost a week after I finished reading it to write up a review. If I’d reviewed this book after I’d finished it, I might have gushed more, but as it is, the flaws became more noticeable as time passed.

Our beast is Lucius Wolfe. He snuck into his old school’s chemistry lab, stole some chemicals, and experimented with them in his parents’ basement. Naturally, an accident happened, and Lucius was badly scarred. He lost both hands and now has to wear hooks. He and his family have moved to a new town for a fresh start, even though Lucius has seriously damaged his parents’ trust in him.

The beauty is Aurora Bell. Her mom has recently died, and her dad has taken a job as a school librarian, and so Aurora and her father also end up moving to the same town as Lucius. The two of them catch each other’s eyes on the bus, and, without a single word being spoken, are suddenly fascinated with each other.

As I was reading this book, which was a fast, one-sitting read, I liked it. Both Lucius and Aurora are nice kids, and I liked watching Lucius slowly try to shrug off his loner persona and realize he does care for other people. I also liked the relationship between Aurora and her dad, which was very sweet. And while I did find the romance flawed (more about that below) Baratz-Logsted had me rooting for both these kids.

But…and you knew there would be buts… there were problems. First of all, for a book that’s supposed to be about how we shouldn’t judge other people by physical appearance alone, the romance seemed pretty shallow. Aurora was fascinated by Lucius’s smile. Lucius thought Aurora was pretty. They spent a lot of the book ogling each other from afar. There were a few conversations, but Lucius shows more actual friendship toward Nick the security guard than he does Aurora. So I’m supposed to believe these kids are in love? OK, granted, they’re in high school, and high school romances weren’t exactly sophisticated or full of depth, but still, considering the story’s theme I would have liked to know why it was these two were fascinated with each other aside from “He’s so mysterious/sad” and “She’s so beautiful and nice.”

Which brings me to something else. I couldn’t stand Aurora. From her Disney princess name to her sugary-sweet personality, she just seemed too perfect. Except, of course, at the end, in which she jumps to shrewish conclusions for the sake of the plot and allowing Lucius to save the day.

Lucius I found more fascinating. His motivations were much clearer, and I found his loneliness truly heartbreaking. I also thought his protectiveness toward Aurora was terribly endearing. Plus, he’s got a lot more to work through, and the development of his relationships with his parents was fun to watch.

I don’t know if Crazy Beautiful would have worked better for me if I’d actually been a teenager. I hate to make a pronouncement one way or another, since that way I run the risk of labeling all YA as unsophisticated, which it isn’t at all. But Crazy Beautiful could have had a lot more depth. If you like YA romances, and you don’t mind somewhat lackluster characterization, go for it. But I think there are better books for your time. C+.

Other Opinions

• The Book Vault
• Devourer of Books
• Juiciliciousss Reviews
• Presenting Lenore
• One Librarian’s Book Reviews

P.S. I got this from Bookshare

Y’all know that I love some cheese with my romance. It’s why books featuring snard make me happy, despite the fact that nutella and male excreta should never go together. It’s also why, despite the fact that her books couldn’t possibly be more derivitive if they tried, I am in love with Bianca D’arc’s Dragon Knights series. I gulped down the first of these ebooks last year, one after the other, and only recently picked up the sixth, Fire Drake, because I’d heard there was a seventh. (Note that, yes, I did buy the book in e-format, but I’m linking you directly to the info page for the print because I’m just that awesome!)

Basically, the premise of this series is the Dragonriders of Pern, only with lots more on-screen sexing and an excuse for menage a trois scenes between two hot specimens of beefcake and one lucky lady. Because, you see, dragons form telepathic bonds with male knights, only when the dragons find their mates, the men have to have a woman in the picture so that they don’t need to get their boy cooties all over each other.

Fire Drake is not an acception to this premise. Drake of the Five Lands returns to Draconia, which as you might surmise is the home of all these dragons and their partners. He’s come to deliver a message that the royal princes are in danger. He plans on making his pronouncement and getting the hell out of there, because he left Draconia under less than ideal circumstances, but of course that doesn’t happen. Drake must come to grips with his father, a man who never approved of him, and face the young dragon he left pining for him years ago. Complicating matters is Krysta, a guardswoman who intrigues him, but who also seems to intrigue his best friend and rival, Mace. Of course, the threat to the princes is soon realized, and Drake, Krysta and Mace must go on a quest to find the abducted prince, a quest that will ultimately bring them closer together and change all of their destinies.

What I especially like about these books is that they are pure wish fulfillment, escapist fun. D’Arc’s worldbuilding, while nowhere near original, is still good enough that I’d love to visit Draconia, hang out in the dragons’ lairs, fly on dragonback, and yes, find two studly men to make me feel really, really good. It would just be cool, and I would much rather read fantasy where the author has an attitude of, “Wow, this would be awesome!” than fantasy that tries to be so freaking serious all the time. And while, if I think about Draconian society and how it would actually work out in the real world, I find myself not buying the concept that two men absolutely must find their one true soulmate woman, while I am immersed in the story I don’t care, and, in fact, I find D’Arc’s handling of the menage a trois, where the two men have no interest in each other, to be better than most and so I buy it.

As for this book in particular, it’s really Drake’s story. Drake could be an obnoxious Marty Stu under different circumstances, but he suffers from enough self-doubt to make him relatable, though I did wonder why none of the other characters didn’t bonk him upside the head for being so whiny about how he didn’t deserve to be a dragon knight. Mace and Krysta were also fun to read about. Mace was a shade underdeveloped, but he was basically a nice beta hero, and I liked the rivalry that characterized his friendship with Drake, as it gave them more depth. And Krysta, being a warrior woman, embodies one of my favorite heroine archetypes. I wouldn’t quite go so far as to call her a kick-ass heroine, but I liked that she held her own and wasn’t in constant need of being rescued.

As for the plot, it wasn’t quite as tight as some of the others in the series. I got the impression D’Arc was making things up as she went along, and sometimes this worked, but sometimes I was left wondering where she was going with any of her plotting. There’s a pretty major story arc throughout the series that is no closer to being resolved, but I hope there will be more progress in the next book. The author’s influences are patently obvious, but her world is just a cool place, and I enjoy my time there. This story was no exception, and it rates a B.

Other Opinions

If any of you have read this series, let me know what you think of it!

I should start out this review with a disclaimer. I don’t work with kids. I’m not a parent. I once was a kid my very own self, but so were we all. So I am not really qualified to talk about what it’s actually like to raise kids.

Nonetheless, I find the process of child-rearing fascinating in a detached, I-don’t-really-know-if-I-really-want-to-do-that kind of way. Which was what led me to pick up Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman’s fascinating Nurture Shock: New Thinking about Children. The authors basically assert that much of the thinking parents have had about children in the last few decades might be more harmful than helpful. They back these assertions up by talking to lots of scholars, and there’s quite an extended section at the back on notes and resources.

Some of their premises are fairly counterintuitive. They say that praising kids for being smart actually encourages them to do less well than they might already. I found this a bit hard to swallow until I thought about it. I remember a teacher telling me once that I was good at math. This seemed like a patently false statement to my fourteen-year-old self. I was not good at math. I hated math! Math was hard! So maybe I understood the core concepts, but they didn’t come easily to me, so how could I be good at math? At the time I would have much rather done something I did excel at, like an English assignment. The result was that I hated classes where I actually had to study when I was in high school, because I felt I shouldn’t have to study. I was, after all, smart. This proved detrimental to me when I first attended college, and it’s only been in recent years, having returned to school, that I’ve picked up on better study habits. Maybe if someone had tried Bronson and Merryman’s suggestion, that of praising kids for specific things they did well and praising their effort at doing them, I would have been more successful.

Some of their other assertions made more sense to me. The authors talk about how teens release melatonin later at night than do adults and younger children, and that they would benefit from having school start an hour later. I know that I certainly would have. I also thought the section on the Tools preschool program was fascinating in its approach.

I found this to be a fascinating book and a surprisingly quick read. I’m not sure it will work for many parents, and I don’t know if I’d feel differently about what I’ve read if I had kids, but I think it provides lots of food for thought.

Final Grade: B.

P.S. The authors have a website, which looks very interesting!

P.P.S. I got this from Bookshare.

Other Opinions

• Five Minutes for Books

I have to hand it to John Green. If anyone else were to write a book about some guy who dated girls with the same name and then pined and sulked for the whole book about how they kept dumping him, I think I probably would laugh and give it a pass. But this is exactly the premise of An Abundance of Katherines, and I really enjoyed it! It wasn’t the awesome, life-changing book that Looking for Alaska was, but, since it effectively got me out of a reading slump, I won’t hold that against the book.

Colin Singleton, our narrator, is a child prodigy. He has a talent for anagrams, and a propensity for dating girls named Katherine. After Katherine Xix breaks up with him, he mopes around for a while until his best friend, Hassan, convinces him they should take a road trip. This lands them in Gutshot, Tennessee, where they stumble into jobs recording the town’s history.

By all rights, I should have found Colin annoying. He spends much of the book focused on Katherine, and on how it is just his destiny to be dumped by girls, yada yada yada. But I couldn’t dislike him, because his mind was fascinating. I liked how he just randomly spewed forth trivia, and had to constantly be pulled back on task. He’s so obviously a dork, but as a girl with a definite love for geeky men, I wanted to hug him at the same time that I wanted to shake him.

While Colin was fascinating, I loved Hassan. Hassan provides a nice foil, and I appreciated that he read like a real teenage guy. I also liked that he regularly called Colin on his bullshit, and that his word for when it was time to close a subject was ‘dingleberries’. He definitely reminded me of some of the guys I knew growing up, and I really want to know what happened to him.

The rest of the characters generally worked for me. I thought Colin’s eventual love interest was an interesting character in her own right, and not the manic pixie dream girl type I’d been sort of afraid would show up after having read Looking for Alaska. I also liked that the major landowner in Gutshot wasn’t a heartless villain. The only sour note was the meathead jock, who was predictably a jerk in predictable ways.

The plot is fairly character-driven, so not a whole lot happens aside from the initial road trip and a few episodic events that happen once Colin and Hassan get to Gutshot. The focus is pretty explicitly on Colin coming to terms with his relationships and growing up, and I loved it. By the end of the book, I was happy and satisfied.

I also have to mention the setting. John Green writes about the South with obvious affection, and I liked that he chose not to populate Gutshot with stereotypical rednecks. The place came alive for me, and while I’m not sure Tennessee in summer is the kind of place I actually want to visit, I enjoyed seeing it with the obvious love that Green has for the South.

John Green writes young adult fiction that transcends stereotypes about the genre. His characters are smart and they feel authentic. Their issues may not be the subjects of Lifetime movies of the week, but they are real. The books are ultimately about hope and self-realization, and, even for this reader, who is retreating further and further from her teenage years with every passing day, they are relevant. Not to mention they are excellent reads. If you haven’t tried John Green, you really should.

Final Grade: B+

P.S. I actually plunked down cash for this book.

Other Opinions:

Lots of people have read and reviewed this book, so I refer you to the most excellent Book Blogger’s Search Engine!

A couple of notes: This review contains a few spoilers, and it’s necessary for me to use some gender-neutral pronouns throughout. I’ve chosen a set that I prefer, but if you’re using a screenreader and notice the slight mispronunciation, I swear I actually mean the spellings I use.

What motivates people to acts of compassion? Why do people stand idly by while atrocities are committed? These are some of the questions that Gilles Rozier tackles in The Mercy Room. He doesn’t offer answers to any of these questions, which makes for a compelling, albeit quite dark, read that I still haven’t entirely processed.

A German teacher living in Nazi-occupied France is compelled to translate documents for the Germans. The teacher’s gender is never identified, which is a bit of a distracting storytelling device, but nonetheless an effective one. The teacher doesn’t resist hir orders, and one day, while s/he is waiting for the German officer to give hir more documents to translate, s/he stumbles across Herman, a Jewish former soldier. Compelled by his handsome looks, the teacher spirits Herman to hir home, hiding him for two years in a cellar.

The teacher is not a likeable character. Y’all know that I have to have likeable characters to root for in my fiction, but nonetheless I found hir compelling. Maybe it was just that I couldn’t believe any person with even an ounce of compassion could say or think the things that go through hir head. The teacher is obsessed with the fact that hir sister is sleeping with an SS officer. S/he has a loveless marriage which in the end results in hir spouse committing suicide, to which hir only response is along the lines of, “Wow, that was tacky.” And s/he humiliates Herman, by giving him a pair of hir underwear as well as a pair of hir spouses, so that he has to alternate between wearing men’s and women’s undergarments, and then justifies hir behavior by telling us s/he could have behaved worse.

I came away from this book with the sense that I wasn’t supposed to like these characters and that the story was really a vehicle for Rozier to explore some complex issues. The Hollocaust is a fascinating time in history, because it’s a time when people were both horrifyingly, monstrously cruel, and yet so many people showed great compassion. Yet, Rozier argues that even in compassion, people can be cruel, and it’s made me wonder about all the other stories I have read about people who helped the Jews and resisted the Nazis. What motivated them to do so? How did they react to having such absolute power over another human being? Those are chilling questions, and ones I won’t easily forget. I also appreciated the fact that Rozier delves into what it was like to be a random citizen of Nazi-occupied Europe. The motivations for the characters not doing more to resist made sense to me, and again I was left wondering what I would be willing to do if I ever found myself in such a situation. Sadly, the answer is that I don’t know.

I’m not sure how to grade this book. The writing was lovely and accessible in a way that I never seem to figure translations will be, and there were lots of exdellent ideas. But I’m not sure I’m inclined to reread it, because I don’t know if I can endure another period of time in the teacher’s head. So I think I’ll give this a B+.

P.S. I validated this for Bookshare

Warning: This review contains a few spoilers. Feel free to skip if this isn’t your thing.

When people talk about category romances, there are names that keep coming up over and over again of authors whose books are awesome. One name I keep hearing is Kathleen O’Reilly. I’d heard that she writes good characters with real problems. And so, when the motherlode of Harlequins got submitted to Bookshare, I opted to proofread one of Ms. O’Reilly’s books, Courting Disaster. From this experience, I’ve decided that Ms. O’Reilly is an author to watch out for, since I enjoyed this book.

Demetri Lucas is a racecar driver with a penchant for fast cars and faster women. One day, while visiting his friend, Hugh Preston, whose horseracing business is in jeopardy, Elizabeth Innis literally runs into him. Elizabeth is a successful country singer, who has built her reputation on being squeaky-clean and above reproach. Sparks immediately fly, but they are both drawn to each other by a common goal, namely keeping Quest Stables, the company Hugh Preston owns, in the black.

I really liked Elizabeth in particular. Her voice was unique, something I can’t always say for the heroines of romance novels. Elizabeth, though, I could imagine perfectly. It’s obvious that Ms. O’Reilly enjoyed writing her, because I had a lot of fun in her POV. For someone so famous, she has a down-to-earth way of looking at the world that I found endearing.

Demetri was also interesting, though I didn’t connect with him as well as I did Elizabeth. I liked that, though he had good reason to angst, he tended to be a bit of an adrenaline junkie, because God save me from yet another whiny romance hero. I also appreciated that there were people aside from Elizabeth who found his playboy behavior problematic. Further, I liked that Ms. O’Reilly didn’t actually focus on how skanktastic all the other women in Demetri’s life were. Because from the moment he meets Elizabeth, his focus is entirely on her, and I believed that persistance. The two of them had some great chemistry even though the sex scenes, while present, were of the non-explicit variety.

I also liked the way Ms. O’Reilly handled the issues the couple faced. Elizabeth and Demetri both have fathers with whom they have horrible relationships, and those relationships aren’t mended at book’s end. I also liked that it was Demetri who had to make sacrifices for Elizabeth, and that those sacrifices made sense and weren’t just tacked on for the sake of an HEA. Demetri really is getting too old to race, and his motivations for doing so aren’t exactly the best, so I thought his choosing to retire was a sign that he’d grown up.

I did have a couple of minor quibbles which are entirely subjective. I rolled my eyes at Demetri being Greek, since category romances seem to be enamored with Greeks for whatever reason. And I wasn’t really sure what Elizabeth did exactly to preserve her squeaky-lean reputation except talk about it a lot.

That all being said, this is a simple romance with no extraneous plots and no extraneous POV switches. Reading the rest of the Thoroughbred Legacy miniseries, of which this is a part, is unnecessary. I’ll definitely be reading more from Ms. O’Reilly, and this book rates a B.

Other Opinions

• Dear Author (It’s the second review)

Once upon a time, there was a book blogger. She was pure as the driven snow, and lived a happy life reading books of all genres, unaware of the dangers that could befall the unwary.

Then one day, the book blogger got herself a twitter, and, recognizing the potential Twitter represented, she made friends with other bloggers. All was well in the land, and the sweet and innocent book blogger reveled in her new friendships, and the book recommendations they brought.

Then, one day, Katiebabs and another book blogger–our narrator cannot remember who–commenced a conversation on Twitter about The Cat Star Chronicles by Cheryl Brooks. Actually, the conversation was specifically about something found with alarming frequency in this series. No, I’m not talking about exclamation points, although those pop up quite frequently. I refer instead to… snard.

Before you ask, snard is what happens when a man in this series finds a woman that he likes very much. While smexing her, he usually emits excretions that taste, according to one of the books, like hazelnut. These cause spontaneous orgasms in the female.

Anyway, our erstwhile book blogger, being a fan of fiction of questionable taste, made haste to acquire the series and read the first four in something like a week, devouring the books the way she has also been known to devour whipped cream straight from the container. (This explains why our intrepid book blogger is not a small woman.) And the books were good. They were engaging, didn’t require a whole lot of brain power, and didn’t seem to take themselves all that seriously. The fourth book, especially, introduced our blogger to a tortured hero she just wanted to hug.

Months passed, and soon there was a new addition to the series, which our intrepid blogger eagerly dived into. And it is this book she–OK I–will review today.

First, a little background on the series. Apparently, the Zetithian race was destroyed a couple of decades ago when their planet was blown up. A band of Zethithian soldiers were captured, however, and sold into slavery. Each of these men endured a lot before finding a woman they were drawn to, women whom they gave their snard to on a regular basis. (And if you think I should be above random references to snard throughout this post… you obviously don’t know me very well.)

Anyway, in this fifth installment of the Cat Star Chronicles, Fugitive, Earth artist Drucilla has come to the idyllic Barada 7 to paint birds after a breakup with her latest gay boyfriend. Apparently, homophobia still runs rampant in Brooks’s future, which makes me sad. Anyway, she soon becomes aware of Manx, who is, you guessed it, a Zetithian. Manx thinks Drucilla smells wonderful and wants to boink her ASAP, but there’s a bounty on his head. So, needless to say, wacky hijinks ensue.

There’s a lot to like here–at least if you’re a reader like me who enjoys an element of cheese in her fiction. Manx and Drucilla are both quite likeable, and even though I didn’t buy the chemistry completely, I wasn’t sorry they ended up together. There are also great secondary characters, including couples from previous books, some precocious children, and a garulous alien. I enjoyed reading about all these people immensely, and am sad that I have no idea when the next book will come out so I can see what else Ms. Brooks has in store for them. Because there’s definitely a few loose ends I’d like to see explored. I hope there is at least one Zetithian female wandering around, because I really want to meet one. And the answer of who destroyed the Zetithian home world is still not revealed.

That all being said, I do have significant quibbles. In the first place, I feel that there was way too much going on, and that an editor could have been a bit more strenuous in tightening things up. There were way too many POV shifts to characters whose heads I didn’t need to be in. And I don’t actually want to read sex scenes involving previous characters. They had their books. It’s time to keep them out of the spotlight.

The other thing that bugged me was that the sex scenes were raunchy. I don’t read erotic romance for loving descriptions of how much the heroine wants the hero to smear her face and body with his snard; I don’t care how much like hazelnut the stuff tastes. And when I wasn’t reading raunchy sex, I was reading repetitive sex. I know there are only so many ways to say that nutella-flavored excreta has awesome effects. But surely saying so over and over and over and over and over again rather ruins the effect.

The result of all this was that, while I enjoyed this book while I was reading it, it took me a while to finish, and I didn’t think it had the same campy quality that the other books in the series had, which I liked so much. The end result is a mixed bag, and so I’m going to have to give it a C+.

Other Opinions

• The Bookgirl
• Kylee’s Journal
• Cheeky Reads
• The Book Binge

Whenever I tell people they shouldn’t paint romance novels with the same brush, I inevitably end up recommending Marjorie M Liu. I’ve been a huge fan of her Dirk and Steele series of paranormal romantic thrillers since I first read them a couple of years ago. Unfortunately, I’m not caught up with the series. I tend to hoarde books from my favorite authors, which is why it’s taken me this long to read Eye of Heaven, the fifth book in the Dirk and Steele series.

The premise: The members of Dirk and Steele are all people with special abilities. Blue Perreneau, an electrokenetic, is no exception. He’s been tracking Santoso, a human flesh peddler, but is injured before he can affect a capture. After he recovers, he is summoned to the bedside of his dying father, who wants Blue to recover the half-brother he didn’t know about. If Blue, who has always had an adversarial relationship with his father, to put it mildly, doesn’t do this, then his father will make sure that Dirk and Steele’s dealings are compromised. So Blue tracks his brother to Las Vegas, where he’s working for a small circus. Blue joins the circus as an electrician, and almost immediately meets Iris McGillis, a leopard shapeshifter. But it’s not all glitz and glamor, as there are people who very badly want to use Blue and Iris for their own ends.

What I appreciate about Ms. Liu’s writing is that there’s always stuff happening. I’m never bored when I read her books, and this one was no exception. There’s a lot going on in this book, and I found the mystery and thriller elements quite riveting for the most part. I honestly didn’t know how Ms. Liu was going to resolve the plot threads she put into place, and there were a few twists I really enjoyed. For the most part, everything is resolved satisfactorily, although not every thread worked for me. There was, for example, an element of tension having to do with a couple from a previous book that I thought would make for some interesting moral quandries, but that plot thread was literally solved with a deus ex machina. And there were a few times where I rolled my eyes as yet another set of goons attempted to kidnap Iris. It seemed like she was either about to be kidnapped, in danger of being kidnapped, kidnapped, or recovering from being kidnapped throughout the book.

The romance element also works well for me. It’s not very explicit–at least compared to other books I’ve read–but I bought the chemistry between Iris and Blue. It didn’t even bother me that they declared their love within a few days of knowing each other, because those were some action-packed days, what with all the kidnapping going on.

I haven’t talked much about the characters. Iris is awesome. Being a leopard shape-shifter, she has an affinity for the big cats she performs with. But, aside from the cats, all she’s known in life is her mother, who disappeared two years ago with little explanation. That combination of toughness and vulnerability always works for me, and this time was no exception. I also appreciated that, while Iris does get kidnapped an awful lot, she never brings it on herself by doing something mind-numbingly stupid.

Blue is also great. He’s not my favorite Dirk and Steele hero–that title goes to the very bookish gargoyle hero of The Wild Road , but Blue is interesting in his own right. I liked reading about his struggles to come to terms with his relationship with his father. By the end of the book, he understands the man a little better, though he’s still got a few issues. And the relationship between Blue and his brother, Daniel, works very well and comes about quite naturally.

The secondary characters are also, for the most part, very interesting. I found Iris’s mother fascinating for reasons that would involve spoilers, and even Blue’s father isn’t a complete villain. Daniel also has a lot to deal with, and I hope we’re not done seeing the last of him. Former Dirk and Steele heroes also make brief appearances–not enough to disrupt the flow of the story but their presence definitely provides something to the plot.

If you’re interested in this series, each book stands perfectly well on its own. They don’t need to be read in order, though, series purist that I am, I always feel that books are better enjoyed if you read them in order.

This isn’t my favorite entry into the series. But it’s great for those who like thrills in addition to their romances. The leads are likeable, there’s a lot of action, and the world-building is excellent. I rate this one a strong B.

Other Opinions

• All About Romance

Hi, Internet,
I’ve not exactly been in a reading slump so much as I haven’t read anything inspiring lately. I’m in the middle of a couple of books I really enjoy, but I always seem to find other things to do that don’t involve picking them up. Which was why I was quite pleased to see that some kind soul had scanned a whole bunch of recent Harlequins and put them up to be proofread for Bookshare. Harlequins are quick reads–I could read one in an afternoon without working hard, and you never know what you’re going to get. Especially given the fact that Harlequin’s marketing strategy largely involves taking any semblance of mystery away from the reader via their horrendous titles.

The book I picked to read had a horrendous title, though I passed up several other choices that were worse. And, surprisingly, I found Plain Jane and the Playboy by Marie Ferarella to be a pleasant read. It’s not so earth-shattering that you should all go buy it right this second, nor was it as awful as I always expect Harlequin romances to be.

Our basic premise is that Jorge Mendoza is a ladies’ man. He loves women of all shapes, sizes, and, apparently, ages. One night, while at a New Year’s Eve party, he ends up chatting with a local teenager and boasts that he can pick up any woman at the party with no effort. So the kid points out wallflower Jane Gilliam and Jorge does what Jorge does best.

For her part, Jane is surprised that a guy as obviously good-looking and charming as Jorge is showing any interest in her. After an explosive kiss, she’s prepared to enjoy Jorge’s attention, however fleeting, until the aforementioned teenager, rather predictably, makes a mess of things. Jorge spends the rest of the book being drawn to Jane without quite knowing why, and, this being a romance, we all know how it will end.

I’m about to pick several nits with this book, so I wanted to start out by telling you what I liked. Firstly, I basically liked our leads. Jorge wasn’t an asshole, and though Jane has her moments of not being very bright, she’s basically a sweet girl. She has insecurities about Jorge, which I thought were pretty reasonable for the most part, given what a player he is. I also appreciated that the romance ran a pretty true-to-life course, with the couple dating and taking time to get to know each other before they fell into bed. I also thought Jorge and Jane had very good chemistry, even though the book isn’t as explicit as many romances.

Now for the stuff I didn’t like. Some of this isn’t Ms. Ferarella’s fault. It isn’t, for example, her fault that I find the pure-as-driven-snow romance heroine archetype to be extremely tedious. Not only does Jane teach kids how to read, but she volunteers in her spare time, reading to kids in the hospital. Gag me with a spoon. Not that these things are unworthy pursuits. I’m just tired of that archetype. And, of course, Jorge finds Jane refreshingly straightforward and honest and kind, unlike the other women he’s dated, which, since there have allegedly been zillions, must mean someone somewhere doesn’t have a very good opinion of women in general. I also found some of the elements that make this a miniseries annoying. There were several POV shifts to random secondary characters including one prolonged scene in which one guy goes through his pockets so his wife can take his clothes to the dry cleaner. Yeah. Clearly fascinating stuff, that. There seems to be a larger plot going on in the series as a whole, but it wasn’t incorporated very well into this story, so, again, it was just tedious.

Then there’s the stuff Ms. Ferarella could control. There was a lot of telling rather than showing. For example, if Jorge’s such a playboy, I wish we could have seen him in action with other people besides Jane. Alslo, though Jane is shy and a bit bland with Jorge, it’s repeatedly stated that with others she’s warm and gracious, but we only saw her with someone else once or twice, when she demonstrated said graciousness. And some of the writing is downright clunky. Jorge compares Jane at one point to Bambi, because she is so gosh-darn innocent. Is Jorge aware that Bambi is, in fact, a male deer? And then there was my favorite metaphor, in which a girl’s hair is compared to windshield wipers. I laughed. I’m not sure I was supposed to.

Overall, this was a bit of a mixed bag. It was a pleasant read with likeable characters, but I could have wished for less input from secondary characters, a more cohesive integration of the long-term story arc, and a bit more showing instead of telling. This one rates a C.

other Opinions

I couldn’t find any. If I’ve missed your review, feel free to smack me with a wet noodle in the comments.

Hi, Internet,

Back when I was a proto-human, my mom, in an attempt to broaden my reading horizons and introduce me to the world of adult fiction, spent a couple of rainy days reading aloud Thunder Heights by Phyllis A. Whitney. This spawned a meme in my childish heart, and I soon devoured several of her books. Sure, even my ten-year-old brain was well aware that they were formulaic. But it was a formula I enjoyed.

So, when I found out about Aarti’s Flashback c hallenge, I knew that I wanted to reread some Phyllis Whitney and see if I still found her enjoyable. After perusing Bookshare, I selected Columbella, which I remember being kind of confused about when I read it as a girl. Still, there was a deliciously evil villain, and I remember being surprised that Whitney broke away from her formula by having the token love interest be a married man.

Here’s the deal. Jessica Abbott’s vain, shallow, bitchy mother has died. Jessica, a spinster, isn’t quite sure how to cope with this new sense of freedom because she basically took care of her mom during the last few years. So she goes to stay with her aunt in St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands. After spending time moping on the beach, Jessica is approached by Maud Hampden, a rich island resident. Seems Maud has a problem. She has a skanky whore daughter who, sadly, reproduced. Maud thinks Catherine, the skank whore daughter, is going to exercise an undue influence on Leila, Catherine’s daughter. Catherine’s husband, our token love interest, Kingdon, wants to send Leila back to Colorado, which would solve the problem, but then we wouldn’t have a story. Maud thinks Jessica can exert some positive influence on Leila, thus making her need to go away moot. So off Jessica goes to Hampden House.

The formula that I remember is very much in place. Lots of the characters distrust Jessica for no discernible reason. Kingdon starts off cold and autocratic, but eventually he is won over by Jessica’s kindness and her fiery spirit. Leila is a precocious child, pulled in several different directions, torn between her worshipful adoration of her mother and her mom’s skanky ways and her need to be her own person. Sadly, I would much rather have read a YA from Leila’s POV, since she was by far my favorite character.

The characterization isn’t particularly wonderful, though most of the characters do have a few hidden depths. There just isn’t much to a lot of them, even if they go in surprising directions. As I was reading, I kept wishing we were in the heads of characters that were not Jessica, who I actually found rather dull. Maud’s eldest daughter, Edith, for example, was just fascinating. She’s married to a snarky, sometimes cruel man who mostly seems to ignore her but who it’s revealed early on may or may not have had a thing for Catherine, Edith’s sister and the aforementioned skanky whore. Edith exists mostly as a background character, and I found that a shame.

As for Catherine, well, basically, she reminds me of Cathy Dollanganger from Flowers in the Attic. She’s conceited, she has a high opinion of her own beauty, and while she may not have engaged in incest, she’s very good at twisting the knife and tends to get pissy when she doesn’t get what she wants. There is basically nothing redeemable about this character, and her spoiled upbringing is only the flimsiest of justifications. Plus, she’s a skanky whore. And if I never have to read about a woman who likes sex being considered depraved, it will be too soon. Not that I condone Catherine’s behavior–she was happily screwing around with men that were not her husband, which is never OK–I wanted more from her personality than skanky whoreishness.

Even if I didn’t really like Jessica, who was just quite dull, I did appreciate Whitney’s ability to keep things interesting. I was never bored, even though there were several long, descriptive passages. Whitney manages to make even a tropical setting come off as gothic and creepy, which is all to the good. Her only misstep, plotting-wise, was the romance. Like Jessica and Kingdon themselves, it just wasn’t terribly interesting, and I didn’t quite believe it. It was hard to accept that for Kingdon, Jessica wasn’t just a rebound girl. And I found their eventual getting together somewhat hackneyed in its development.

Overall, this one was a mixed bag. I’m not sorry I read it, but I’ve come to appreciate a bit more in the way of nuance from my books. I’m going to have to give this a C.

Other Opinions:

If you, too, have read this book, let me know what you thought of it in the comments.

Hi, Internet,

I love romance novels. Partly, I love them because reading them allows me to be a complete mushball in a socially acceptable way. And they are the one genre of fiction everyone derides, and I am ever a supporter of the underdog.

That all being said, some romances, such as those of Meljean Brook and Moira Rogers and Nalini Singh are easier to love than others. This is because these romances feature two likeable leads who are recognizable as relatable people, realistic conflict that keeps them apart, and worldbuilding that isn’t just tacked on for flavor.

Highland Wedding by Hannah Howell didn’t have any of those things going for it. I read it because I was validating it for Bookshare, which is the only way I ever would have finished it. Because, Internet, it was an awful book.

The premise is this. A long, long time ago, in an alternate universe that is supposed to resemble Scotland, sometime in history, although when is never specified, Islaen MacRoth needs a husband. (Incidentally, I have no idea how one pronounces Islaen.) She has her heart set on Sir Ian MacLagan, in true Disney princess fashion. The King decides that it would be awesome if the MacLagans and the MacRoths were allied, in case those pesky English should cause trouble, so he forces Ian to marry Islaen. And here we come to the riveting conflict of the book. You see, Ian was married once, and his first wife died in childbirth, which was apparently an agonizing thing, so he doesn’t want to put any woman, particularly not one as small and delicate as Islaen, through that. Islaen, on the other hand, had a mother who was positively a brood mare, and she is pretty sure she will be one, too. (Spoiler alert: She totally is. But that comes later.) For her part, Islaen sees herself as deformed, and is not sure that Ian will be able to bring himself to do the horizontal tango with someone as ugly as she is.

“What deformity does Islaen have?” you may be asking yourself. “Does she have extra arms? Is she perhaps a hermaphrodite?”

No. No, she is not. Instead–get ready to be horrified–Islaen has huge tracts of land. She decides to come clean to Ian about this, and they have the first of the many sex scenes in this book, after which they are discovered and Islaen’s father and Ian engage in the creepiest dialogue ever involving Islaen’s… assets.

Of course, after the wedding, not all is smooth sailing either. Ian insists Islaen use contraceptive sponges. She doesn’t. And then she gets pregnant, producing triplets. (See what I mean about being a brood mare?)

There’s other stuff that goes on, too. There are several evil skank whores who want Ian for themselves because I guess being broody and not all that bright is a turn on for some girls. There’s one odious fat man (his fatness gives him away as a villain) who keeps trying to rape Islaen. There’s also a crazy former lover of Ian’s ex-wife who decides that Ian must die and *also* wants to rape Islaen.

As for the lovers themselves, their conflicts aren’t the type that could be solved with a simple talk. No, the problem is that neither of these people is all that bright, so a lobotomy would probably be the kindest thing. Ian, for example, is always letting his passions run away from him and boinking Islaen wherever they happen to be, only later checking to see if she’s using contraceptives. For a man who’s dead set against having children–even if it is for the lamest reason ever–he sure is blase about the whole thing, and way too trusting of his wife. And Islaen is just dull. She is meant to be spunky and feisty, but she chases after Ian like a lost puppy, eager for any scraps of affection he hands out. She lacks a personality, and we’re supposed to find her interesting because she is something of a tomboy, having grown up with ten older brothers. Oh, and they both speak in Scotts dialect which, far from seeming truly authentic, came off as overdone. Surely, all the Scotts didn’t use “dinnae” and “wasnae” and the rest of it, especially if they were highborn, as our two leads are.

I haven’t mentioned the secondary characters yet. Sadly, they don’t do very much and fall into predictable patterns. There’s Ian’s friend, Alexander, who is clearly being set up for his own book, there’s the hero and heroine of the previous book. And then there are the two main villains, who are as believable as cardboard.

I was talking to Holly on twitter about this book, and she confessed that Hannah Howell was like crack to her. But, unfortunately, that wasn’t my reaction. My favorite kind of bad story is generally over the top in its awfulness, or it’s so campy that you can’t believe what you’re reading, but you’re entertained anyway. This book was just bad. I was never entertained, I found the conflicts ridiculous, and, if the book hadn’t been an ebook, I’d have wanted to chuck it against a wall. My grade, unfortunately, is an F.

Other Opinions

If any of you have read this book, let me know where you’ve reviewed it. Or, you know, use the comments to tell me I have all the taste of a dead fish. That works, too.

Hi, Internet,

Last year, My Friend Amy, who has only to make a subtle suggestion to spawn memes because she is that awesome, decided to host a book drive to encourage people to buy Nothing but Ghosts by Beth Kephart. I did not buy the book during the book drive, because I am a rebel like that. (Also, I am easily distracted by shiny things and/or lazy, but being a rebel seems cooler somehow.) But buy it I did, and I finally got around to reading it…

…And I did not love it. I was expecting to love it, because Amy did. I was expecting it to be moving and touching and make me rethink my perceptions of the world. This is why I never read books everyone raves about. The disappointment always seems greater when everyone else loves something you don’t.

And it wasn’t that I didn’t like the book. I did, actually. But I put it down a lot, got distracted by other, shinier books, and when I did pick it up, I felt like I was slogging through it so I could move on to something better. And, of course, I can’t pin down what didn’t work for me. It wasn’t the writing, which was beautiful and evocative and lyrical. It wasn’t the characters, who were interesting and relatable, particularly our protagonist, Katie. But there was something there that didn’t click with me at all.

The story centers around Katie, whose mother, a woman who was very vibrant and full of charisma, has died. She and her father are trying to move on from that. Her dad has thrown himself into baking, and Katie has taken a job working for the reclusive Miss Martine, who has decided she wants a new gazebo. As Katie and the other workers dig out the area for the gazebo, she becomes fascinated with Miss Martine, and spends her time at the library trying to figure out her story.

This is ultimately a quiet, reflective sort of book. The mystery isn’t nearly as important as Katie coming to accept the loss of her mother and move on from that. The parts about Katie’s mother were poignant and moving, and I especially loved the way Katie and her dad’s relationship worked, with both of them struggling in their own ways to fill the void Katie’s mother has left. Katie often finds her dad exasperating, but she loves him anyway. There’s also a nice romance, which is subtle but sweet in its own way, even though I’m not really sure that it was altogether necessary. And, of course, there is the story of Miss Martine, which was resolved in a way I hadn’t seen coming.

My only real complaint that has any substance to it is that the dialogue didn’t quite ring true. The characters talked like book characters, and not real people. I think this is one of the major reasons I didn’t connect with them emotionally. And, as I said, not much happens, so I felt the book dragged. I suspect that if I’d been in a more introspective mood, the book’s style wouldn’t have bothered me, so I don’t feel like the pacing is a valid criticism.

There is a lot to like about this book. I just wish I had liked it more. You can read other people’s takes on the book below to find reviewers who were less ambivalent and more positive than I was. For me, it only rates a C.

Other Opinions

• My Friend Amy, of course.

• Rhapsody in Books
• Devourer of Books
• Book Nut
• Presenting Lenore

Dear Internet,

I know I haven’t really been around much, and I feel that my poor blog, with all five of its regular readers, is missing out on the joy that is me waxing poetic–or not so poetic, as the case may be–on what I’ve been reading. There are a number of reasons for this. School has been… an interesting challenge, to say the least. And I haven’t been reading very much.

I have finished a few books, though, and am woefully behind on reviewing them, so I’m hoping that if I take a less structured approach, the reviews will get written and might even be a little better than some of the very blah stuff I’ve been cranking out lately.

Anyway, the recent read that I wanted to talk to you about is When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead. This book won the Newberry medal this year, which is not why I picked it up. I picked it up because in other reviews I’d read, mention was made of the fact that Miranda, our main character, loves A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle. As it happens, I do, too. So the fact that this book won the Newberry was just a bonus.

Our story is about a twelve-year-old girl named Miranda, who lives in New York in the 1970′s. It’s told in a very stream-of-conscious style. It starts out with Miranda’s mother finding out that she will be a contestant on the $10000 pyramid. This news compells Miranda to contemplate whether she should write a note to the person who has been leaving her mysterious messages, because she thinks these messages may come from the future. In the meantime, Miranda is dealing with normal kid issues–changing friendships, trying to figure out who she is, and experimenting with boys.

I’m a character-driven reader, as long-time followers of this blog are no doubt tired of hearing. I need relatable characters or a story won’t work. And I loved Miranda. She’s smart, she’s spunky, and she felt real. I liked that her viewpoint was very childish in places, but that she was perceptive. (There’s a touching bit that sticks out in which, after she’s complained to her mom about the shabbiness of their apartment, she is suddenly made aware that her mom knows this and is embarrassed, too.)

That was another thing I really appreciated. Miranda’s family isn’t traditional, and she’s, gasp, close to her mom. She also doesn’t view her mom’s boyfriend as an interloper, and thinks that her mom should just give him a key and let him move in. After so many melodramatic stories about dealing with a parent’s new boyfriend, it was nice to read a protagonist that didn’t care.

But, you may be asking yourself, what does A Wrinkle In Time have to do with this story? Quite a lot, actually. For one thing, it is the only book that Miranda reads, and so she makes lots of references to it. I particularly liked the fact that she acknowledges what a universally relatable character Meg is. Miranda thinks of Meg as twelve, and I had to double check my copy of A Wrinkle in Time before concluding that Miranda’s right. L’Engle never outright states Meg’s age.

I wouldn’t really classify this book as a science fiction novel, though, so if you go into the book thinking there is more than just an abundance of references to < A Wrinkle in Time you’ll be disappointed. It is a mystery, first and foremost, and the science fiction elements are like a nice powdered sugar glazing on top of everything else.

Obvbviously, I liked this book a lot, and am glad it won the Newberry. The writing style was absorbing, and I read it in pretty much one sitting. My only real quibble was that I thought Miranda was a little too young to be making out with boys, but this might not bother an actual reader in the target age range, so you can take that as a sign that I am turning into a fuddy-duddy.

I’d rate this one a very strong B.

Other Opinions

• Booking Mama

• A Chair, a Fireplace and a Tea Cozy
• S. Krishna’s Books

P.S. If you’re from the FTC, hi! I got this from Bookshare, which I have access to because I am considered print-disabled. So there.

I have to start this post by warning y’all that it’s not my usual style. It’s kind of rambly and stream-of-conscious, and is also spoilertastic. You have been warned.

One of the series I discovered last year, when I was in the middle of a blogging slump was the Virgin River series by Robyn Carr. I have read the first three books in the series, which are as follows:

• Virgin River

• Shelter Mountain
• Whispering Rock

The premise is this. Virgin River is a small, idyllic town in the mountains of Northern California, which seems to attract the lonely, the hurting, and the broken-hearted. We begin the series with Mel, who needs a new start in life after the death of her husband and comes to Virgin River to practice midwifery and gets involved with Jack, the owner of the town bar. The second book features Paige, a battered wife on the run from an abusive ex, who ends up with Jack’s partner at the bar, a big teddy bear of a guy named Preacher. (Preacher, incidentally, is my absolute favorite Virgin River man so far. He’s big and burly, but also extremely awkward and shy, and he was a virgin, which is enough of a rarity in romance fiction that I still find it awesome when it happens.) In the third book, Jack’s sister, Brie, ends up brutally attacked and ends up finding love with Mike, an ex-cop friend of Jack’s who’s also turned up in Virgin River.

What I like about these books is that, in addition to the rather strong romance storylines, there’s a real sense of the town. I get the feeling that there really are people with lives that don’t intersect often with the main cast of characters. I appreciate it when authors do this, as it lends verisimilitude to their settings, and Virgin River, in Ms. Carr’s hands, is a place I’d like to visit.

I do have to admit that I went into the books not really expecting straight-up romance. I enjoy the books all the more for that fact, though, because I genuinely like the setting and the characters. I also think that the romantic aspects of the books, while important, aren’t really Ms. Carr’s strong point, because, at least in the books I’ve read, they’re fairly repetitive. After all, how many Marines with deep personal pain can there be for every hapless damsel who’s just suffered personal tragedy to stumble upon? Honestly, I’d much rather read about the couples after their courtship. Mel and Jack’s wedded bliss, for example, is far from the treacle you’d get in most traditional romances, and I think the scene where Preacher informs a whole barful of Marines that he’s closing early on account of its being ovulation day cracks me up.

The books have tackled lots of relevant issues as well, everything from the ethics of dealing with local marijuana growers to the need for contraception to teenage drug use. Sometimes Ms. Carr handles these issues better than others–like, there’s one particular marijuana grower who is quite interesting and who I know from reading spoilers becomes more important in the series later. Then again, there was the bombshell in the thirdd book where one woman, after finally getting a mammogram, finds out she’s got breast cancer and is dead by a few dozen pages later. That whole subplot was just a bit too precious for words.

And then there’s the Rick/Liz subplot. See, Rick’s a randy 17-year-old boy who sometimes helps Jack at the bar. And he met a new girl, Liz, who was 15 and basically tarting it up. They ended up having sex, and Liz became pregnant. Afterwords, a whole mess of slut-shaming ensued. Liz basically becomes weepy and distraught, and presumably quits wearing skirts that hike up to her crotch. And Rick whines and emoes about how he’s totally ruined Liz’s life and he’ll never, never, never have sex with her again until she grows up. He worries about Liz but in kind of a self-absorbed way that, while I’m sure it’s authentic, grated on my nerves, especially since, as readers, we never saw Liz’s POV. We just know that Rick thinks she’s too young, her aunt thinks she was being a little tart but loves her anyway, and Mel just wants to do the best she can by her as her midwife. And then, after Liz loses the baby–a karmic death if ever there was one–Rick decides he needs to up and join the Marines. Because he decides for Liz that Liz is too young and needs to grow up. So, you know, instead of actually, truly making sure she’s OK, he’s like, “See you after basic.” And, as I understand it, he gets his own book in the series in which he has PTSD, which means former slut Liz will probably selflessly stand by and wipe his emo tears.

…Wow. I really didn’t think I had that much animosity toward that one particular subplot.

There is also a whole lot of “Ra ra ra, yay Marines!” talk in this series. You know a male character is supposed to be good and honorable if he is either planning to serve in the Marines or has served in the Marines or some other branch of the military. That aspect of the series isn’t one I can speak about, because the people in my family who are uber-military types aren’t generally people I talk to enough to ask, “Is it really like that? Do you feel extremely close to all your Marine brothers and would you do anything for any of them?”

That being said, the Marines stuff balances out well with Mel’s character, who is generally a positive example of a strong feminist who isn’t a hard-ass. She’s dedicated to midwifery and women’s health issues, and I appreciate that she doesn’t poo-poo the idea of abortion outright, since there are characters for whom that comes up. (Thankfully, in Virgin River, if you don’t want a baby, you will lose it due to miscarriage or stillbirth, so actually having Mel hold someone’s hand during an abortion isn’t ever likely to come up.)

In conclusion, despite some of the snarky things I’ve said, I find these books comforting. It’s fun to slip back into a familliar world with familliar characters. I generally know where the plots are going, and the sequel-baiting is pretty unsubtle–in the same way that an anvil to the back of the head is pretty unsubtle–but I think that’s part of their charm. You know what you’re going to get, and when you get it, it makes you feel good. I wouldn’t call these keepers, but they are strong, b-grade comfort reads.

I’ve been resisting the urge to read The Hunger games by Suzanne Collins for a long time, mostly because of the hype. I’ve been burned too many times by overhyped books that did nothing for me at all, and I can be a picky reader.

However, last year, Maree, Memory and I decided that we should get it over with and read the book together. That way, if it sucked, we could console each other by, I don’t know, maybe pasting horrible lines of the book into Twitter. (OK, maybe I’m the only person of the three of us who would do that.)

Anyway, we all emailed each other questions that we answered about the book. So go over to Memory’s blog and read what we thought of it.

For the record, I’m not sure this was quite an A book for me, but it really was quite good and I hope to read the second book soon.

Title: Hate List
Author: Jennifer Brown
Genre: Contemporary YA fiction
Source: Bookshare
Reason for Reading: I am apparently much more interested in contemporary issues books when they’re YA. And this book got hyped all over the place, so I decided I’d give it a go.

Synopsis:

Five months ago, Valerie Leftman’s boyfriend, Nick, opened fire on their school cafeteria. Shot trying to stop him, Valerie inadvertently saved the life of a classmate, but was implicated in the shootings because of the list she helped create. A list of people and things she and Nick hated. The list he used to pick his targets.

Now, after a summer of seclusion, Val is forced to confront her guilt as she returns to school to complete her senior year. Haunted by the memory of the boyfriend she still loves and navigating rocky relationships with her family, former friends and the girl whose life she saved, Val must come to grips with the tragedy that took place and her role in it, in order to make amends and move on with her life.

My Thoughts: First off, I didn’t know that Jennifer Brown is a somewhat local author. Apparently, she writes a column for the Kansas City Star. And, having learned this about her, I will probably spend more time than is healthy browsing the Star’s online archives to read her work. That’s neither here nor there, though, since this is a review of her novel.

To be honest, Hate List was a bit of a slow starter for me. I was intrigued by the idea of reading about a character as complex as Valerie Leftman, but I wasn’t actually sure I could manage it. What if I didn’t like her? What if, like her family and most of the people around her, I thought she was pretty much guilty by association?

Thankfully, after the first couple of chapters, I got quite into Valerie’s story. She’s one of the more complex characters I’ve read about recently, and, after some time to warm up to her, I realized she worked for me. She’s very confused about what happened that May day when her boyfriend shot up the school. She blames herself for what happened, and she’s pretty much starting the book just wanting to finish out the school year as quietly as possible. Of course, that’s not what happens, because she just can’t. Not with an event like a school shooting.

Because she’s such a complex character, and because the issues she goes through aren’t pat and easily solved, Ms. Brown doesn’t provide Valerie with easy answers. Even at the end, it’s clear that she still has to come to terms with her future, but the experiences of the novel have made her stronger. I appreciated that Brown chose to go that route, since otherwise I don’t think I’d have found Valerie’s story as believable.

In addition to Valerie, the rest of the characters are multi-demensional as well. Valerie’s parents, in particular, are drawn with a depth I don’t often see in young adult fiction. Nick, too, though he did shoot several people in Valerie’s high school, is also portrayed with enough sympathy that the reader can see what Valerie saw in him.

The emotions in this book felt very genuine. Each person deals with what happened the day Nick shot up the school commons in different ways. There were moments I was cheering for Valerie as she dealt with the minefields of other people’s experiences with the tragedy. There were other moments, particularly a few harrowing scenes between Valerie and her dad, where I wanted to hug her. There were also bits where I was angry with her. The fact that Ms. Brown successfully played with my emotions and I never felt manipulated is definitely a point in the book’s favor.

This book also reminded me of Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, what with both stories featuring deeply troubled heroines in difficult situations who cope with life through art. I read Speak with clenched teeth, wondering why I was supposed to empathize with such a self-absorbed brat. (I’m aware I’m the only person in the history of the Internet who felt that way. Please don’t stone me.) Obviously, I liked The Hate List much better. The book also reminds me of Lionel Schriver’s We Need to Talk About Kevin, which is a book I never did review but which I read last year, which also discusses school shootings. Brown’s story isn’t as intense as Schriver’s, but at least I walked away from Hate List thinking the heroine would be OK, something I couldn’t say for Schriver’s heroine.

Final Thoughts: Ms. Brown’s debut was complex and dark and fascinating. I didn’t love it, because it didn’t speak to me on a completely visceral level, but I definitely appreciated the solid writing, and the complexity of the characters and the situation. If you, like me, like your contemporary YA complex and gritty, this is definitely a must-read.

Final Grade: B

Other Opinions

• Presenting Lenore

• Karen’s Book Nook
• YA Book Central
• My Friend Amy
• Galley Smith
  

Title: The Sugar Queen
Author: Sarah Addison Allen
Genre: Contemporary fiction, magic realism
Source: Bookshare
Reason for Reading: I’ve had this book TBR, but was finally inspired to read it by a review from Angie.. (See below.)

Synopsis:

In this irresistible follow-up to her New York Times bestselling debut, Garden Spells, author Sarah Addison Allen tells the tale of a young woman whose family secrets–and secret passions–are about to change her life forever. Twenty-seven-year-old Josey Cirrini is sure of three things: winter in her North Carolina hometown is her favorite season, she’s a sorry excuse for a Southern belle, and sweets are best eaten in the privacy of her hidden closet. For while Josey has settled into an uneventful life in her mother’s house, her one consolation is the stockpile of sugary treats and paperback romances she escapes to each night…. Until she finds it harboring none other than local waitress Della Lee Baker, a tough-talking, tenderhearted woman who is one part nemesis–and two parts fairy godmother… Fleeing a life of bad luck and big mistakes, Della Lee has decided Josey’s clandestine closet is the safest place to crash. In return she’s going to change Josey’s life–because, clearly, it is not the closet of a happy woman. With Della Lee’s tough love, Josey is soon forgoing pecan rolls and caramels, tapping into her startlingly keen feminine instincts, and finding her narrow existence quickly expanding. Before long, Josey bonds with Chloe Finley, a young woman who makes the best sandwiches in town, is hounded by books that inexplicably appear whenever she needs them, and–most amazing of all–has a close connection to Josey’s longtime crush. As little by little Josey dares to step outside herself, she discovers a world where the color red has astonishing power, passion can make eggs fry in their cartons, and romance can blossom at any time–even for her. It seems that Della Lee’s work is done, and it’s time for her to move on. But the truth about where she’s going, why she showed up in the first place–and what Chloe has to do with it all–is about to add one more unexpected chapter to Josey’s fast-changing life. Brimming with warmth, wit, and a sprinkling of magic, here is a spellbinding tale of friendship, love–and the enchanting possibilities of every new day.

My Thoughts: One of the things I wish I saw more of in the fiction I read is the positive effects of female friendship. It’s irritating to have a female best friend be portrayed as shallow, or merely a vehicle to introducing the heroine to a love interest, or, worse, a complete and total cow. And when I find a book that celebrates the beauty of female friendship, I want to embrace it and crow about it to everyone who’ll listen.

This is just such a book. Josey meets and befriends several interesting women over the course of the story, from Della Lee, the tramp living in her closet, to Chloe, the sandwich shop owner. And it is those friendships that make this story magical, as they set in motion all of the changes that happen in Josey’s life.

Josey herself is the kind of character that, if written badly, can be a real pain to read about. She starts the story a beaten-down woman who dreams of leaving her small North Carolina town, even though she feels guilty about being such a rotten child and therefore thinks she ought to stay home and take care of her unappreciative mother. In the hands of a less skilled author, Josey is the kind of character I’d want to smack upside the head, then feed them a slice of get-over-yourself cake. But the magic of this book was that I sympathized with Josey’s plight. I know what it’s like to feel like you have no other choice but to retreat into a more pleasant world of your own creation, and that is the way that Josey copes. But once Della Lee makes her escape the confines of her comfort zone, Josey finds that her life is much more interesting and rewarding.

The other characters in this book are drawn with just as much depth. Chloe in particular I loved, not least because of her affinity with books–they literally pop up around her whenever she needs them. Josey’s love interest, far from being simply a shallow but good-looking man, has demons of his own. Even Josey’s mother, far from being the one-note villainous character she could have been, is drawn with surprising warmth.

The plot of the novel centers around the self-actualizations of the major characters, and it’s done well. The magic realism touches, far from being a distracting nuissance the way they generally strike me, added an element of wonder to the setting. I found myself wishing for a secret closet like Josey’s, and sighing wistfully over the fact that books do not pop up around me like they do for Chloe. I loved the fairy tale aspect of the story, and I adored the romances, both the one between Josey and Adam, which was very sweet and tentative, and the one between Chloe and her boyfriend, which was very much passionate, but in some ways a bit more realistic, by which I mean that I suspect a few strictly romance readers might have issues with Jake. Ms. Allen drew me into the world she created, and I practically read the book in one sitting, taking only a brief break because I simply didn’t want the story to end. In fact, it is the kind of book that I think I could get a lot out of rereading, which I very much want to do.

Final Thoughts: This book reminded me of another recent read, Like Water for Chocolate. However, I understood Josey far better than I understood Tita, and I was completely drawn into Josey’s world and the lives of her friends.

Final Grade: A

Other Opinions

• Angieville, who made me want to read it.

• Book Addiction
• At Home with Books
• Books on the Brain
• Bookfoolery and Babble