2.5 stars
An ominous, snail-paced crawl to the finish line with a lot of hidden horror and an ambiguously dark ending. This was interesting, but soooo not for me. (Take the star rating with a grain of salt.) Concepts: ★★★★ Pacing: ★ Reveal(s): ★★★ Enjoyment: ★ First off, I'd like to say that my low rating is 100% tied to my personal feelings for this novel's content and my general reading experience. I think, like most horror novels, how we respond to content warnings and plot points are very much dependent on individual reader preferences—and it's hard to know what you're getting into without spoiling yourself to a book's contents. Sundial was one of those reads for me—if I'd known where the plot was going to go when I started reading, I would have passed on it. (For that reason, I think some people who aren't excited by the book's pitch but do like certain horror tropes would love this book. But they'll have a hard time learning that without knowing details beforehand. A conundrum that often exists in this genre. ) But hey, we're here now, and I am going to do my best to sell this very well-told story that did not work for me, personally. Rob's life as a suburban mom of two daughters looks great on the surface. Her husband has money and is respected, her job is stable and conservatively appropriate, and her two daughters appear to be beautiful and normal. This is a horror novel, so I'll stop there with how things "appear" to be. Rob's hiding behind several of her secrets, and her husband, Irving, isn't much better. Come to think of it, her oldest daughter, Callie, and her youngest daughter, Annie, also have their secrets. This is a family bound in their silence and (badly) hiding behind the cracks. The façade is crumbling, and Rob's about to realize that there's nothing she can do to reverse the damage—it's time to do damage control. And for Rob, the only thing that makes sense is to return to the start of everything--Sundial. An isolated compound in the middle of the Mojave desert, Sundial is where Rob grew up. It's an odd place—almost cult-like—with more scientific experiments and death than most of us can imagine. Her family is bizarre, her upbringing strange. Rob's childhood and its secrets lay buried in the dirt along with the truth. Rob grabs her oldest daughter, Callie, and flees to Sundial to fix the problem. (What is the problem though, exactly? Is it what Rob thinks it is? Is it was Callie thinks it is? Is it even what we, the readers, think it is?) Told through split POVS, split timelines, and interspersed with story entries of a fictional world, one thing is true for this novel—the story is never solid. Sundial is a very interesting concept for a novel. It takes many pieces from other stories, and its display of the truth/reveals held a classic "twist" flavor to it that made sense when looking at the entire novel from a bird's eye view. (In practice, it led to a very frustrating reading experience.) As the reader, I was so frustrated by the stilted, distanced gaze. All of these characters felt like they were permanently behind a glass wall—sounds and pictures came through just fine, but I could never forget that there was a wall between us. I was so aware of the story being a "story" the entire time. I also think that without foreknowledge of the ending, the entire first half of the book feels like a snail crawl. I didn't know what was happening, not enough action was carrying me through the confused intro stage, and I was so aware of the metaphorical wall between character vs. reader that my connection to the characters didn't exist. There was nothing tying me to continuing this story beyond the sense of duty I had as a book reviewer to complete my read of an advance reader copy. Personal issues aside, I do think Sundial excelled in its sense of place and setting. The desert compound that the book takes its title from is grounded in gritty realities and horrors that felt as real and oppressive as a desert heat. The horrors within this book had a unique backdrop in Sundial's sense of place, and the animal elements were different than other horror novels I've personally read. The unique factor is strong here—genre readers will no doubt appreciate that. I think all fans of horror should consider picking this up, especially if my cons don't seem like cons above... this is definitely an interesting and unique entry into a genre that is brutally exacting in its demands for new content.
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3.5 stars
A window into a potential future, a commentary on our Earth's ecosystemic future, a murder mystery, and a story of motherhood all in one. Clean Air is hard to pin into one category. And that's not a bad thing at all. Concept: ★★★★★ Characters: ★★★ Plot/Pacing: ★★★★ Enjoyment: ★★★ 1/2 This one's a weird one. But worth a try for the right audience, and anyone who is interested in genre mashes. Clean Air follows the story of Izabel, a stay-at-home mom, who lives in a bubble home. (Ok, technically an airtight dome around her property, but still.) Her husband, Kaito, works remotely with the robot technology that harvests food in this brave new world. Her young daughter, Cami, only knows this life. The future has come. Humanity's climate-changing, disasterous ways finally led to a crisis: the trees revolted. Gradually, or not-so-gradually depending on who you ask, the trees began to produce a poisonous pollen in such large quantities that it began to wipe out humans. In large masses. This feels vaguely like a mixed metaphor of COVID and climate, but the author handled it pretty well. Now, a much, MUCH smaller civilization of humanity eeks out a life in these bubble communities that exist to prevent exposure to the rest of the planet. It's almost idyllic, when you get past the sheer "OH MY GOD" of it all. Everyone is happy, everyone is cared for, everyone if cohabiting... Nothing will go wrong again, right? Humans are totally, totally able to exist without fracturing in some way...right? Sigh. Of course not. When someone viciously punctures a hole in a family's bubble home one night, the entire family dies from the pollen exposure. It was a murder, and it had to have been done by one of the community members. And the murderer keeps doing it, and more people keep dying. Izabel, our mom with no experience, turns into our amateur investigator as she realizes that if someone doesn't stop this murderer, they'll eventually get to her and her family. It quickly becomes a fixation for Izabel... and we're along for the ride. I thought Clean Air did a ton of things really well--juggling a bunch of different genres, juxtaposing this future situation with our own, and highlighting the core tenants of humanity that remain no matter the year, or the situation, or the future. Motherhood remains. Corruption remains. The will to survive remains. And some other things. As someone who is not usually a science fiction/dystopian/futuristic reader, I can't say this novel was an ultimate favorite for me—it would have needed something speculative/magical to truly attach as that's who I am as a reader--I think it speaks to Clean Air's credit that I stayed invested and gripped by Izabel's journey the entire time. The murder mystery definitely helped with that, as without that compelling whodunit/whydunit narrative it would have felt much more meandering for me. Overall, a very engaging and compelling read. Definitely recommended for fans of any of the genres I've mentioned so far, and anyone interested in the prismatic future predictions of climate change fiction. Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review. 5 stars
Occasionally you read a book so immersive and stunning, you can only hold on and settle in for the ride. I'm not usually an adult literary fiction gal but this one snuck in and smacked me sideways. Writing: ★★★★★ Characters: ★★★★★ Enjoyment: ★★★★★ As a woman, stories centered on gender and gender freedoms vs. oppression are always hard hitters for me. This one was no exception—strap in, folks. In different cultures, countries, and regions, the situation around a woman's freedom varies between relative freedom to unsettling/unsafe realities. In this particular story, the author delves into the following: What does it mean to be a woman here? What about over there? Honor explores these questions of womanhood, freedom, and agency through an Indian lens when one woman comes back to India after an adulthood of American living and reckons with her personal freedoms versus those of the Indian women in her home country. Indian-American journalist, Smita, returns to India at the beginning of this novel and discovers that she's been brought here for a serious reason—she's asked to cover the story of Meena, a Hindu woman who is experiencing a dangerous form of community-led hatred with Meena's recent decision to marry a Muslim man. Meena's situation is dire. Smita can help, especially because of her status as an Indian-American woman without the restrictions of the local landscape. Smita sets herself on the case, knowing that doing this will open a can of worms. But she can't stop—Meena needs help. Smita and Meena might both be Indian women, but their polar-opposite situations create a chasm for Smita as she is forced to reckon with her identity as an Indian-American woman and how much that differs from Meena's current reality. With absolutely beautiful prose and a heartbreaking core, Honor is one of those novels that explores heavy, lingering concepts with a deftness that keeps you reading—and keeps you hoping for the end. There are so many powerful themes at play here: sense of family, sense of duty and tradition, the threads of hope. The ties that bind and the cultural and community identities that cause harm while encouraging growth and family. The dualities at the heart of so many. To be honest, I feel like my review is struggling to encompass the realities of this story in a way that at all resembles the beauty of this novel. I'm not usually at a loss for words, but for Honor the scope was different and the emotions were deeper. This was an unstoppable story, and I am honored (pun intended) at the offer to be a part of its initial press. If you are interested in literary fiction and stories centered on women, I cannot recommend this highly enough. Thank you to Algonquin Books for my copy in exchange for an honest review. 4 stars
Wow, this mystery packed a punch... but the true star of the show was the complexity of the main character/amateur detective, Frankie Elkin. Very strong opener for a woman I hope we see in more sequels. Writing: ★★★★ Pacing: ★★★ Mystery(s)/Reveal(s): ★★★ Characters: ★★★★★ A woman with a haunted past, Frankie Elkin has carved out a space within empty spaces for herself as a traveling amateur investigator. No home, no possessions, no family to encourage her to settle down and keep her roots. She follows the trails of the missing. And she's found 14 of them so far. None were alive, but that's not what Frankie promised their family in the first place--Frankie promised to find them. And she does. In Before She Disappeared, Frankie arrives in Boston with her nose to the ground on a missing persons case that's spent 11 months gathering dust by the local investigators. Angelique Badeau, a promising young Haitian immigrant attending Boston Academy high school, went missing after school one day. The leads dried up fast. Her younger brother, Emmanuel, is convinced that she's still alive somewhere. The cops, including the brooding Detective Lotham in charge of the case, don't think that's the case. Frankie doesn't know who is right just yet, but she's determined to find out. If there's one thing Frankie is good at, it's asking the right questions. And being such a pain in cops' ass that they begrudgingly ignore her tactics and let her stumble around the fringes of the case. With one begrudging Detective Lotham at her side, Frankie's ready to roll... I thought this was one heck of a good mystery/thriller. There was just enough of a pacing issue to keep it from being an all-time favorite for me, personally, but it came close. Before She Disappeared is a tightly plotted, atmospheric, and memorable thriller with a rock-solid core in its protagonist, Frankie. Frankie and her singular sense of drive really carried this novel for me, even when I struggled to engage with the plot at the beginning. I wanted to know more about this woman—why was she doing this? What in her past made her this way, and what would it take for her to recover? Other elements that really worked for me was the setting and side characters. I've never been to Boston, and I'm definitely not plugged in to the Haitian immigrant population and their day-to-day flow, but in this novel the author breathed life into that scenario and I could almost believe that I was there and knew what the heck I was talking about (obviously I don't, but it speaks to the author's research and/or ability to convey a particular geographic imprint that I felt that "sold" onto the worldbuilding). I'd strongly recommend this one to fans of Louisa Luna, Jane Harper, and other moody mystery/thrillers with killer writing and unbelievably real main characters. Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review. 3.5 stars
These historical romances are like candy, you just can never have enough. When one young woman discovers her respectable, aristocratic husband died and left her to discover that she was actually one of three wives? Whew. Bit of a pickle. Concept: ★★★★ Plot/Pacing: ★★★ Chracters: ★★ Katherine Vareck shows up to her late husband's will reading and discovers, to her shock, that she is not the only Mrs. at the table. In fact, she's one of three wives... and all three of them are in for a real mess. Enter Christian, the deceased's older brother and the Duke of Ransford. Christian had no idea about these three wives, or his brother Meriwether's appalling lack of decency. Christian knows he needs to do some sort of right by these women, but he's not sure what to do and his own personal situation is in an interesting spot as well—so he's not sure what he can do, anyway. With drama, wiles, and a whole lot of surprising business acumen, Christian and Katherine find themselves working together to support the other two wives, themselves, and potentially each other in this charming series opener. Overall, I thought this story was cute and charming. It was not the most memorable for me, personally, as a romance reader—but I've had a pretty hard time with historical romances this year in general so it might just be my burnout talking. Some unique elements of this story centered around the dynamic of Katherine and Christian, surprisingly. Unlike many, MANY other Regency-era romances that rely on animosity, misunderstandings, and mild enemies-to-lovers to make their characters pop, A Duke in Time actually started off with its love interests tackling their problem together, as a team very squarely on board with each other's place in their duo. It was refreshing and oddly charming. If you're a fan of historical romances, add this one to your list! Thanks so much to St Martin's Press for my copy in exchange for an honest review 3.5 stars
Beautifully written, evocative and emotionally turbulent... the realities of generational trauma, sense of self, and womanhood collide in this insightful and literary novel. Writing: ★★★★ Characters: ★★★★ Enjoyment: ★★★ Sometimes, you read a book and you realize that you're just not...there yet. For me, I think Carry the Dog was conveying messages that I was frankly too young to fully appreciate—I'm a mid-20-something woman, not someone looking back on her life in terms of decades. I'm not there yet, where Bea Seger is at in this novel. But I might be someday, and for that reason I found this novel extremely compelling. In the 1960s, when Bea was a young child, she and her siblings were photographed in a series of provocative and explosive nude photographs taken by their own mother. They were controversial at the time, and they've remained so up until the present day. But now, museums want to showcase them—and they're talking to Bea about it. Bea has spent a long time not analyzing those images, or her experiences with them. But should she? And even if she's not willing to self-analyze, would it be worth it for the money? With those questions circling around her, Bea is also dealing with other elements in her life. Like her complicated relationship with her divorced husband, which is filled with toxicity, subtle and overt betrayals, and issues. Bea's not exactly handled that well internally, either. But the light is starting to shine on Bea's life, and whether she likes it or not, it's time to look at the pieces around her and locate that inner steel at the core of her womanhood. Complex? Yes. Beautifully rendered? Also yes. An uplifting and joyful read? Not particularly. Like I mentioned earlier in this review, I think this book provides more poignancy and support to women and individuals with more life experiences under their belt—I'm not calling anyone "old," y'all, but I am calling myself too young to fully appreciate this novel's bittersweet and lingering resilience. However, I didn't have to fully understand Bea's struggles and emotional palate to appreciate the raw storytelling skills at play here. The author did a fantastic job at rendering Bea and her journey, and I couldn't help but appreciate that. Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review. 3.75 stars
Spooktacular, graphic, and ominous, this Japanese-inspired dark novella was a thrill from start to finish. (I just wish it had been longer.) Concept: ★★★★ Sense of unease: ★★★★★ Characters: ★★★★ Writing: ★★★★★ First off, if you love horror at all, then I think this title speaks for itself. What horror fan would pass up the chance to—at a minimum—try out this novel? Nothing But Blackened Teeth screams to be read. Literally. So I came for the title. Then, once I read the blurb, I was ALL IN for this concept. A group of young people meet up for an impromptu wedding in a Heian ruin that's known to be the origin of a traumatizing and sinister undead bride?? Say no more. Add in the fact that every single person in this toxic friend group has issues with one another and are a powder keg of drama waiting to happen?? Really, say no more, I'm already reading it. This novella comes in hot at just barely over 100 pages, and at times it felt like a fully fleshed out novel and at times it felt like it was only a few pages. I would have gladly read an entire novel on these characters and this setting, so my one main gripe about this short version of the tale is that it felt like it was only a teaser to the real thing. Don't get me wrong—it has an official beginning, exciting middle, and final end. It's the full monty. Butttttttttt. I felt like we snipped out a lot of juicy options in order to keep this uber-slim final product. Come for the concept. Stay for the beautifully rendered friend group on the brink of implosion. Leave with the unformed sense of lingering loss and unease. A great read for this year's spooky season! Thank you to TOR for an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review. 4 stars
Calling all fans of Mexican Gothic....This is not a book for the meek, it's a book for those of us who loved that story and are looking for a more intense, Gothic-a la Victorian version of it with more magic and more medical gore. Plot: ★★★★ Pacing: ★★ Horror elements: ★★★★★ Engagement: ★★★ 1/2 Jane Shorefield lives her life by the numbers. A rare female accountant in a a world that feels like Victorian England, she's done the math and decided that she needs a husband--and after careful consideration of the bachelors in her small town, she decides on Doctor Augustine Lawrence. Augustine is single, attractive, and respectable, with well-paying job as the town's only doctor. He's a great match. It is weird that Augustine is still single and seemingly not interested in marriage... but Jane decides to give it a try. She proposes a business transaction: they'll get married to save Jane from spinsterhood and to provide Augustine with a live-in woman to help him with his practice's accounts. Augustine agrees. Now Mrs. Jane Lawrence, she discovers several things in quick succession. First, Augustine's practice is filled with death and the dying--for a woman who only thought about the numbers involved, it's a rough awakening to be thrown into a hectic and gory surgery on her first day in the practice. Second, her husband refuses to let her spend the night in his family estate outside of town. His vicious vehemence takes her aback. Jane agrees, but like all good stories we know that doesn't last. Third, there's something Augustine isn't telling her. Jane can't expect anything more, as she knows they did this for convenience and not for love, but there's something under the surface that Jane can feel at the edges of their relationship. What is it? When a simple miscommunication leads to Jane arriving at the estate, everything begins to change. Jane quickly realizes that her world is not what it seems.... and at the heart of the wrongness is Augustine. Gross, gory, and enrapturing, The Death of Jane Lawrence was a doozy of a novel. The sense of menace in the writing was top tier. From the beginning, you can feel the trap closing around Jane despite her point of view trying to make logical sense of her surroundings. I was waiting with baited breath for the shoe(s) to drop. (Boy, do they ever.) Once Jane gets to the estate and things start to happen, the pacing and plot develops into its final form of intricately paced and plotted horror. I both loved the pacing and absolutely hated it. It was too slow for me, but I couldn't stop? That duality carries throughout the entirety of this novel. You're attracted and yet repelled, boring and yet enraptured, disgusted and yet understanding. Intense. I liked it a lot for what it was, but count this one in the category of "I can't believe I liked this, it was so dark and twisted" fiction such as Mexican Gothic, Follow Me to Ground, and others. Spoilers for the graphic elements: (view spoiler) Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review. 4.5 stars
There's no other way to put this review, so I'm starting off right with the one-two punch: The Last Graduate was 50% a slow-burn sophomore setup, and 50% an active, amazing plot with the cliffhanger to end all cliffhangers. Writing: ★★★★ Character relationships: ★★★★★ Pacing: ★★ World building #2: ★★★★ Where to start?? I guess I'm going to attempt to be completely spoiler free this time around... a concept. Because of that, here's a vague synopsis of the first book, A Deadly Education. El, a powerful "evil" wizard who is prophesized to bring the doom of the wizarding world, attends the deadliest school you could ever conceptualize: The Scholomance. It's a never-ending haunted house—with deadly stakes—and El's lack of connections and rage-filled chip on her shoulder left her in a pickle. That and the fact that the Scholomance, which is sentient and supposed to provide each student with schoolwork tailored to their unique abilities, keeps trying to give El supervolcano spells of mass destruction whenever she asks for help cleaning her dirty dorm room. We should probably mention that El was raised by the kindest hippie witch trope in the world, so El's trying her best to NOT be the next Evil One to End All Things. But anyway... Some things happen. As El is the Evil One, she also interacts with her class's version of the Chosen One with...interesting results that I (totally and utterly) went completely fangirl over. She makes some alliances, some things happen... the vague synopsis peters out here. In this book, The Last Graduate, El and her classmates are now seniors. With the graduation ceremony historically being a bloodbath of epic proportions—they have to fight their way out of a monster pit at the base of the school, full-on gladiator/Hunger Games style—they've got a lot of training and preparation to do. But things this year are different. And their plans are about to be radically changed... and not from the source that they're expecting. That's all. I'm not going to ruin it! My thoughts: So, in short, I will fully admit to being very bored for the first half of this novel. In fact, this book had me questioning my love of the first one! Because it was so much slower, not overly much happened right away, and Noviks' already extremely meandering and overly descriptive writing took center stage and tried to bore me from my beloved characters. But I loved El, and I loved her situation and her friends, so I kept going. And that paid off BIG TIME. The last half of the novel recovered from its slump and ended in a truly dramatic and over-the-top way that made me just lose my mind. I'm upset we've got to wait until September 2022 for our next one! (But will gladly wait, with popcorn, for the finale. It's going to be epic.) 4 stars
A tea shop that's really a way station for the recently dead, a ferryman like the Greek myths who's actually a cinnamon roll, and one absolutely horrible man who comes to find his humanity in this sweet and emotional novel. Concept: ★★★★★ Pacing: ★★ Characters/Arcs: ★★★★ Handling of heavy topics: Every reader will have their own reactions, handle with care I couldn't get through The House on the Cerulean Sea (I know, I know, don't come for me. I am also upset that it was a DNF.) so I'm pleased to see that this second "quaint fantasy" novel by T.J. Klune really worked for me. Under the Whispering Door looks cute, and on one level it IS cute. It's a quaint novel about a tea shop and soft gay characters and acceptance and love and goodness prevailing. DISCLAIMER: But this novel is also extremely heavy and deals with all manners of death—including suicides and murdered victims. Because of this second element, the author himself writes a "handle with care" note in front of the book. I think that note could be more strongly worded, myself, as someone struggling with mental health my have a harder time seeing the weeds for the trees. Please note this if you usually avoid these topics. Wallace Price is a horrible man. We meet him in the very first scene as he fires a very good employee for a very inconsequential reason, and he feels no remorse. He abruptly dies from a heart attack. When Wallace "comes to" again, he's shocked to find himself at his own funeral. Only 5 people attend, and no one is sad. This feels very much like Scrooge's experience in A Christmas Carol. One of the attendees is Mei, and Wallace discovers that, to his horror, Mei is his Reaper. He is Dead with capital D, and it's time to meet his Ferryman and accept his death. Mei takes Wallace to Hugo. Hugo, who runs the quaint tea shop in the woods named Charon's Crossing, is not at all who Wallace expects. But they're tied to each other—literally—and things are about to get interesting. Throw in a ghost dog and a ghost grandpa, some truly hilarious shenanigans, and a thread of grief and its various stages and you've got this novel. A complicated cup of tea. My thoughts: Like I said at the beginning, I couldn't get through Klune's previous quaint fantasy. So what was different about this one? For one thing, I think the pacing was much more palatable for me. The plot might be limited to basically one setting, but it moves! Wallace Price was an interesting main character to follow. His journey was cliched, for sure, but still there was a lot there and I appreciated how the author brought nuance to a pretty standard "unlikeable to likeable" character arc. I also absolutely LOVED Mei and Nelson (hugo's ghostly grandpa). Now that all the glowing praise is out of the way... on to the less-than-great stuff. I do think that the author chose a very tall order to cover in this book. And because of that, I think this novel struggled to find its balance between "quaint cozy" and a dark focus on healing, grief, and dying. The two concepts aren't impossible to work together, but I did find it a combination of heavy-handed and derivative at the same time, because the grief elements seemed rushed and slightly overshadowed by the quaint love story, and the love story seemed almost interrupted by some side plots that focused purely on the situation of the way station tea shop. We needed more space, maybe? I'm not sure. This was like holding two polar magnets together by its opposite ends—they are both magnets, so they SHOULD work together, but they were flipped around and you could feel the constant struggle the book was undergoing to keep these two levels of plotline held together. Thank you to TOR for my copy in exchange for an honest review. |
Amy Imogene ReadsJust someone looking for her own door into Wonderland. Categories
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