Retro Review: The Queen of the Night

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. I savored this. I bathed in the words. I was unsettled and entranced and deeply, deeply inspired; a testament to Alexander Chee's unapologetic, romantic world. His fluid, dream-like words mingle in rich, dramatic ways. His portrait of the time is immersive and researched and, though filled with much sorrow and hardship, glitters with magic. Chee seduces with twinkly lights, dazzling dresses, stories and songs and all things that sparkle and glow next to all things rough and grotesque.

There are encounters with women and men and music and death and fear and true, true hunger. It's not a coming-of-age story in the typical sense, despite the lessons learned. Uniquely, Lilliet's identity - her intentions for herself, her obligations to herself - seem very intact from the beginning. She doesn't just tell her story, she muses and wonders and wanders and lets things percolate. And so we escape into her journey - the spectacular, unimaginable journey of a woman surviving in the heart of a spectacular, unimaginable time.

Chee has a talent for capturing emotions for which there are no words. I admired this book the second the main character's dress turned against her, which is to say, immediately. Never have I seen that specific emotion described so beautifully. It's an emotion I don't think I've ever even acknowledged in a tangible way, to myself. The emotion you experience when you realize you don't look like you thought you did. Shudder.

And there is much to say about men.

"In this world, some time ago, far past anyone's remembering, women as a kind had done something so terrible, so awful, so fantastically cruel that they and their daughters and their daughters' daughters were forever beyond forgiveness until the end of time - unforgiving, distrusted, enslaved, made to suffer for the least offenses committed against any man. What was remembered were the terms of our survival as a class: We were to be docile, beautiful, uncomplaining, pure, and failing that at the least useful return we might be allowed something like a long life. But if we were not any of these things, but a man's reckoning, or if perchance we violated their sense of that pact, we would have no protection whatsoever and were to be treated worse than any wild dog or lame horse."

There are some aspects I didn't like: the flashbacks, the foreshadowing, the cliffhangers, the smirky way certain details were included (or not included, like the tenor’s name). The timeline was a bit confusing, or self-indulgent, or far-fetched, even absurd - although that may have been intentional, to demonstrate the swirly-whirly nature of time and place and memory. Lilliet seems oddly distanced from her story, at times, as though she's telling it from a separate space, from a different perspective, completely removed.

There's also an interesting exploration of choice and fate, sort of a cage match between "our fate is sealed" and "we seal our own fates." I had a visceral reaction to our protagonist's sense of entitlement and could not relate to her expectation of a free pass. I admired her refusal to accept anything less than her desires, and of course I appreciate that she lived in a world designed to limit her, but life is difficult for everyone. Sometimes, you just can't escape. You must face consequences, you must resist the temptation to run. All that being said, the last few lines of the book call into question my resentment and demonstrate Lilliet's previously hidden level of self-awareness and regret. Noted: "And the gods did not kill for hubris-for hubris, they let you live long enough to learn."

Complaints aside, the power of an incredible historical fiction novel is, for me, unveiled in the pathways I pursue upon finishing it. The Queen of the Night, which is full, decadent, lush and perhaps excessive at times, did inspire me to seek out more. I listened to Chopin, researched the plots of operas and read biographies of the players who made an appearance. I found myself wishing for an illustrated version, or a guide of commentary to which I could refer and compare and explore. Finishing Lilliet's story did not mean I was done with her world.

I realize it's melodramatic and intricate and perhaps it is easy to grow tired of the victory, defeat, victory, defeat, victory, defeat. But ultimately I didn't mind the melodrama because the writing was so thoroughly badass; that specific type of badass I would use to describe an orchestra, or flan, or the word "cornucopia." 5 stars for this book and may we bask in its glow forever.

The Queen of the Night on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: How to Write an Autobiographical Novel: Essays

4 stars. I feel privileged to have read this. I was thrilled to read Queen of the Night and this is something equally special. Alexander Chee strikes me as one of the most honest writers out there, and the honesty of his essays in How to Write an Autobiographical Novel: Essays inspires. 

I have always been a consumer. By that I mean the opposite of a creator. I've never enjoyed writing, only reading. Its why I have a degree in English literature, not English. And I studied art history, not art. I prefer to be reactive instead of proactive. 

But the creative process absolutely fascinates me. I love reading about writing, and talking about writing, and learning how others approach the craft. And so I was deeply captivating by Chee's perspective on existing as a writer.

And, delightfully, so much more. I swam through this - floating easily at times, diving determinedly through others. I learned. Chee writes about AIDS, about advocacy, about being young, about hardship and tragedy and betrayal, about odd jobs and about 9/11 and the 2016 presidential election or, as it is simply called now, "the election."

He writes about trauma and art and the intersection of the two. I felt at times heartbroken for him, in awe of his self-awareness and resilience. I felt the relevance of his work and - interestingly, a strong sense of validation. There is a point to all this. A point to writing and reading and making art. “There's a reason that whenever fascists come to power, the writers are among the first to go to jail.” I was sad to finish. But also perhaps ... happy for him. 

I think there are many out there who would find this book meaningful.

How to Write an Autobiographical Novel: Essays on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Wreckers

3 stars. Taking it way back this week with The Wreckers, a Yearling classic published in ‘99. My husband recommended it as a beloved read from his childhood and I couldn't resist the "high seas adventure" promised. I was immediately shocked by the sheer technicality of a shipwreck - I feel like I would've understood this better had I possessed an intimate knowledge of boats and sailing - but slowly relaxed into a tale that reads like a story heard aloud by the fireplace.

This is the tale of John Spencer, a 14-year boy determined to take to the sea. He accompanies his father, owner of the Isle of the Skye, on a trade voyage, until they are violently shipwrecked off the coast of Cornwall, England. Waterlogged and alone, he witnesses something horrible, something inhumane and tragic. He discovers that the coast is home to a town of wreckers - those who wreck ships on purpose, murder the survivors, and steal the cargo.

It's a nonstop adventure from there - John makes enemies, and friends, and unravels the mystery of the town. He meets murderous monsters and treacherous villains and journeys across moors and through hidden caves. He makes daring escapes and good, heroic choices. It's all really ridiculous, and unlikely, and fun and scary. It was almost a relief to read this from a young person's eyes and recognize the heart and morality of the story. I could depend on the hero.

I can't go without a quiet cringe at one of the story's antagonists - the character of Stumps could be described as downright derogatory. The Americans with Disabilities Act had been around for almost 10 years when this was published - regardless, Lawrence should've known better. It made me uncomfortable - okay, more than uncomfortable - to see a character whose disability was used as an instrument of fear. To make him scarier. Not okay at all.

But this was a page-turning, action-packed adventure, for sure, and a nice, nostalgic break from the angst of adult reading. I might even describe it as a beach read. There's a lot of good luck and a lot of bad luck and an enduring sense that everything's going to be okay. Despite issues with character and plot, the writing is atmospheric and strong. It's a practically nonsensical swashbuckling adventure pre-Pirates of the Caribbean, and like Pirates, it works. 

The Wreckers on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Passage

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

3 stars. First, the wonderful: the novel is semi-epistolary, which keeps things interesting and provides a larger picture of the events depicted. Considering the expanse of Cronin’s vision, he avoids tripping into tunnel vision by including excerpts from government documents, journals and email correspondence. I don’t always enjoy having all the answers, but in this case, context felt really, really crucial to my understanding of the story. That plus a carefully crafted complex and sophisticated plot left me both satisfied and wanting more.

Now, the weird: first of all, all of the men in this book seem like different versions of the same male character – like the same face drawn in different colors. And the women are incredibly strong and multifaceted, but Cronin misses an opportunity to demonstrate a deeper understanding of the feminist perspective. It isn’t problematic in that sense, but in my opinion it’s lacking.

I should also comment on the writing, which is questionable at times. It’s arrogant and cliffhanger-happy, and Cronin bogs down the prose with details of the setting and romantic subplots (I’m certain this was done intentionally to send a message – but it was not to my taste). Cronin is definitely a master at writing action, but his character's’ internal monologues felt slightly amateur (Peter’s contemplation of Hollis and Sara’s relationship was really tedious to me). There’s melodrama and heavy-handed sentimentality.

Also, be prepared for some ... unusual ... exposition. Like The Terror, another sprawling, layered book that touches on humanity’s place in the world, this story gets more woo-woo as it goes on.

Despite these flaws (flaws may be too strong of a word – I would just refer to them as observations), the accomplishments of The Passage are countless. It is a literary vampire apocalypse story, of which there are many, but it’s also a fresh literary vampire apocalypse story, of which there are few. I will be reading more.

The Passage on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Witch of Willow Hall

3 stars. I picked this up determined to prolong the spookiness in my life after Halloween (and after finishing The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina). I was hoping for something dark, scary, and witchy - and ended up with what was essentially a less sophisticated Jane Austen romance novel. No, I didn’t hate this, hence the middle-ground rating, but it wasn’t what I wanted.

The Witch of Willow Hall tells the story of Lydia Montrose as she attempts to adjust to a new home after her family is exiled from Boston. It is the early 1800s and the Salem witch trials are a not-so-distant memory. Lydia struggles to keep the peace with her two sisters, to sort out her feelings for a handsome neighbor, and to deal with an unseen threat that seems to emanate from Willow Hall - and from within herself.

The premise is interesting enough, but I just could not get behind our heroine. I’m so peeved by characters who are idiotic about their own feelings - it’s called attraction, dummy! You aren’t blushing “for some reason,” you aren’t weak at the knees “inexplicably,” it’s because you’re in lust with somebody! I don’t care what time period you’re from, that shit is universal.

Lydia also - quite unfortunately - confuses, or negates, the feminist undertones of the story. There are some great moments - moments where she demonstrates true female empowerment, and female complexity. And the next moment, she’s fainting into her true love’s arms for really no reason at all. I just don’t get that. She’s a fantastic sister, a forgiving daughter and a badass witch. But this treads dangerously into “not without a man” territory.

Speaking of the romance, I’m sorry, but it didn’t feel real for me. I spoke about one trope already, but there are many here. Insta-lust, sexual tension, a weird love triangle (square?) and some random incest? Hester Fox is actually a BEAUTIFUL linguist, and I loved her way with words, but there’s a lot of room to grow in her plotting.

I’m so sorry, but this wasn’t truly gothic for me. It was somewhat atmospheric, but it wasn’t haunting. It gets three stars because it is a page turner, and because I appreciate the intent here. I’ll likely read more by this author and support her efforts. We always need more stories about strong women! This just wasn’t nasty enough for my tastes.

The Witch of Willow Hall on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Name of the Wind

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

3 stars. This book is like the stoned version of A Song of Ice and Fire.

It's got terrific world building and great writing. But it's sleepy. It's mellow. It's super chill. It hyperfocuses on things that don't really warrant attention.

It's actually so good!

But something is definitely missing. A true climax? It just doesn't have the nastiness I enjoy so much in other fantasy novels.

Also - the money. Oh, the money. Kvothe's bank account yo-yo's more than mine, which is saying something. And we, as lucky readers, are privy to every transaction, deposit, and withdrawal. I stress enough about money as it is; I'd rather not stress about it through my characters.

Certainly, certainly. It adds a sense of realism and background and context to the character and to the story. It just isn't my cup of tea.

Again, terrific world building. It reminded me a little bit of the Harry Potter books in that sense - we get the good, we get the bad, we get the normal. Books tend to focus on extreme situations and this one slows down so we get the big picture. I enjoyed that. Maybe it slowed down a little too much, though.

Bottom line: yeah, I guess I'll read more.

The Name of the Wind on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Killers of the Flower Moon

4 stars. I don't know why I continue to be astounded by the sheer amount of hate and greed in this world, but it shocks me still. The depths to which people will go for money or power or to serve their own egos ... it is heartbreaking and infuriating and, in this case, tragic. An entire race targeted and murdered for money - history has taught us these lessons over and over and we don't learn. We still haven't learned.

Horror aside, I really enjoyed reading this story. With a well-written, succinct style, David Grann chronicles the Reign of Terror, a period of time in the 1920's during which members of the Osage Indian tribe were murdered for their oil money. He gives us villains and heroes and cowboys and secret agents and shocks us with the twists and turns of the incredible conspiracy. Considering how committed men were to covering up the crimes, Grann is able to tell the story with detail.

And I enjoyed that. I enjoyed learning about this untold piece of history and strengthening my knowledge of why the justice system - and in some cases, why the government - is the way it is today. Grann is honest about the widespread corruption in local politics and also, almost surprisingly, honest about Hoover's extreme bureaucratic methods in the early days of the FBI. Every thread he pulled uncovered something interesting and foreboding.

In some ways, justice was served. But my emotions and thoughts upon finishing are complex. It was a relief to read about the "victories," and it gives me a shred of hope that decent individuals exist and will continue to fight the good fight for the unseen and unheard. But there is so much anger that this happened in the first place. Another atrocity committed in my country sorely overlooked and ignored. I'm so glad I read this and learned. Everyone needs to.

Killers of the Flower Moon on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Warcross

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

4 stars. Ooh, I am so into this. I’m all about comparing books to really specific food and drinks, and this is a cool, refreshing glass of Sprite. It’s electric. I was really, really entertained.

Slightly predictable? Definitely. Did it resemble Hunger Games a little too closely? Maybe. But the worldbuilding is incredible and the technology feels real. And having just visited Japan, I loved the descriptions of Tokyo. And the diversity - so natural and right and real. The writing is simple but in a good way, not amateur … it doesn’t pander to its audience.

I just loved how colorful it was. And I loved the character names, they felt really on point, if you’re the type of person who cares about such things, which I oddly really do. I loved that the main female character codes like a badass, and I loved that the romance took such an unexpected turn.

Warcross, to me, is one of those rare magical books that successfully provides a colorful escape, strong characters to root for, and a sense of youthful adventure. Bottom line: this author is going places and I can’t wait to see where.

Warcross on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Beneath the Sugar Sky (Wayward Children #3)

4 stars. So, so delighted to return to Seanan McGuire’s imagination for a vivid journey into the hearts and minds and worlds of her wayward children. We return to the “present” timeline here - after the last book’s prequel - to watch our trusty lost souls throw the space-time continuum out the window and right some wrongs.

As I noted in my reviews of the first two books in the series, Every Heart a Doorway and Down Among the Sticks and Bones, I am so truly inspired by the sense of possibility in McGuire’s writing. I love fantasy and read it often, but I rarely - maybe not since Harry Potter - feel so immersed and … hopeful.

As always, McGuire includes very crucial, very on-the-nose, VERY IMPORTANT, RELEVANT messaging here - about acceptance, tolerance and the need to be kind to one another, among other things. I had the same reaction as I did to the second: okay, that’s a little preachy; a little loud. But again I kicked myself for assuming myself beyond the need for such a message. I need reminders too.

We do find out a little bit more about the worlds and the doorways. We get to visit several in this book and it made me so happy. I want a map, or a catalog, I want to know EVERYTHING. And I want to know where I would fit - what my world would look like. Perfectly suited? True acceptance? Fantasy, indeed. MORE, PLEASE!

Beneath the Sugar Sky on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Give Me Your Hand

4.5 stars. Wowza. Even just the title - Give Me Your Hand - can mean so many things. It can mean “let me help you” or “I support you” or “trust me” … but it’s a demand, not a request, and if you trust the wrong person, you’re doomed. And it’s especially compelling considering the astounding amount of gender discrimination by women among women, which shouldn’t still be news, but yes, women are capable of severe targeted destruction in competitive environments. How can we trust our friends, when they are often our enemies?

Megan Abbott attempts to unpack this and more in her latest nasty masterpiece. Our protagonist, Dr. Kit Owens, is shocked when her ex-best friend, Diane, appears in her prestigious research lab. Working with her - alongside her - is unthinkable, considering Kit knows Diane’s secret, a secret that begins to resurface with shocking and violent consequences. Can they put the past behind them? Move forward for the sake of science? Ambition collides with fear and regret as the two women fight, almost literally, to the death.

I would like to point out that every woman in this story is layered and interesting. Not a single one of them is formulaic or bland, and they exist to take action with agency. I’m used to seeing female characters serve their male counterparts, helping them move toward center stage, and here it’s the other way around. Abbott has turned something - a convention, a habit, an expectation - on its head, and I am here for it. Also refreshing: questionable decision-making aside, Kit tangibly, and successfully, fights her insecurities.

Speaking of questionable decision-making, I love that deep within this book’s most intense moral quandary, a woman chooses her career over the “right thing to do.” I mean, I don’t recommend her choice, her judgment is unethical at best and illegal at worst. But there’s a part of me who, perhaps in light of recent events, reacted with a fuck yeah girl, I get it, it’s the only way. It’s the only way to get anywhere, to survive, to get what you want. I rooted for her. Which makes you wonder: are we dangerous? Are we as dangerous as men claim, or fear? I think we can be. Maybe that’s the point.

So many questions. Good questions.

Logistically, Give Me Your Hand is a slim and satisfying page-turner with several enjoyable twists. There’s a hint of noir, a boldness of flavor, and a Hitchcockian aftertaste. I docked a star for melodrama but Abbott’s writing is gorgeous and profound and her ability to stoke a campfire of tension inspires. I know I keep coming back to her women, but her women. Her complex, driven, terrifying, sexual, arrogant, fierce, incredible, misguided women. They are addicting. They are cold and wonderful and broken and they are fighters. They fight to show their potential - friendly or otherwise.

Give Me Your Hand on: Amazon | Goodreads