Archive
Book Review: Y: The Last Man: Paper Dolls by Brian K. Vaughan (Series, #7) (Graphic Novel)
Summary:
Our trifecta of heroes have successfully crossed the Pacific Ocean and are now on the seacoast of Australia. Yorick naturally insists on looking for his long-lost girlfriend in the drug-infested city of Sydney. Meanwhile, Dr. Mann gets wooed by the one-eyed sailor rescued from the pirate ship in the previous book. We also learn more of Ampersand the monkey’s backstory.
Review:
It probably comes as no surprise that I am still loving this series, although I am super-grateful to have one containing so many issues to be holding up so well! Although I’m not a big fan of the Dr. Mann being duped story, the other two more than make up for it.
Seeing Sydney torn apart by heroin provides a different scenario in this post-apocalyptic world. We’ve seen the women fall to violence, over-monitoring, and chaos, but we haven’t seen the self-medication reaction yet. The scenes with the women on heroin are sad and poignant. The perfect backdrop to Yorick’s story.
Naturally as an animal lover and animal rights person I love Ampersand’s backstory. Originally abused and destined for a research lab, his shipping got mixed up and wound up with Yorick to be trained to be a helper animal instead. How this ties in with Dr. Mann is disturbing and the perfect set-up for the next issue. After seeing all he’s been through, I really hope they find Ampersand the next issue!
Overall, the art and story are consistently good and in spite of being the seventh in a long series the storyline has not gotten out of hand or become dull. This is an excellent entry that will leave fans craving more!
5 out of 5 stars
Source: Public Library
Previous Books in Series
Y: The Last Man: Unmanned (review)
Y: The Last Man: Cycles (review)
Y: The Last Man: One Small Step (review)
Y: The Last Man: Safeword (review)
Y: The Last Man: Ring of Truth (review)
Y: The Last Man: Girl on Girl (review)
Book Review: A Dog Named Slugger by Leigh Brill
Summary:
Leigh Brill recounts in her memoir her life before, during, and after her first service dog, Slugger, a golden retriever with a heart just as golden. Leigh had no idea her cerebral palsy could even possibly qualify her for a service dog until a similarly disabled fellow graduate student gave her some information. Her touching memoir tracks her journey, as well as the life of Slugger.
Review:
This was my first book borrowed from the kindle lending library, and it was such a great experience! I know people were skeptical that maybe only low-quality books would be available, but this one is absolutely stunning. I sort of wish I had bought it, just to support Leigh’s service dog efforts.
It’s difficult for me to describe what a pleasure this book was to read. It covers three areas that are a passion of mine–animals as beings worthy of rights, the experience of any type of disability and the extra difficulties that come with that, and the need for universal rights. Top this off with the fact that this is a memoir, a beautifully written one, and I was left nearly speechless. Leigh’s descriptions of learning to communicate with Slugger, Slugger’s unconditional love healing her heart, and the discrimination she faced in public areas with a service dog, they all left me feeling so connected to her. It’s impossible not to be touched by a story of how an animal changes a person’s life. But how an animal changes a disabled person’s life, a person with a disability that is less obvious than others, a person who other people have laughed at and neglected to help. It’s just yet another example of how powerful the human/animal connection can be when we let it.
Of course, this gorgeous experience wouldn’t be possible without talented writing on the part of Leigh. She manages clear, chronological story-telling without missing the opportunity to reflect on how various experiences affected and changed her. She strikes an eloquent balance between reflecting on her relationship with Slugger and talking about her experiences as a disabled person.
Overall, this is a beautiful memoir that eloquently discusses the companionship of animals, as well as the experiences of a woman with cerebral palsy. I highly recommend it to all, but especially to those with an interest in memoirs and disability studies.
5 out of 5 stars
Source: Kindle Lending Library
Book Review: The Thief by Fuminori Nakamura
Summary:
The narrator makes his living as a pickpocket in Tokyo. When the man who taught him the art, not to mention his only true friend, finds himself on the wrong side of the Yakuza, he sees the likely impending end to his own life. But can he run or are his heart strings tied to the city?
Review:
Nakamura is a best-selling writer in Japan, and this is his first novel to be translated to English. I’m a fan of the crime/noir novels coming out of Japan, and this one certainly didn’t let me down.
The narrator is everything you want from a criminal lead–sympathetic, dangerous, talented, handsome but not exceedingly so, trapped, creative. It is so seamlessly easy to jump into his head and move through his life.
The story is far more complex than pick-pocketing. We get a peek at the seedy underbelly of Tokyo, but also at the narrator’s poor, rural upbringing. We encounter everyone from the downtrodden son of a prostitute to the (apparently) leader of the Yakuza. It’s glamorous, dirty, and unpredictable.
The ending may turn some readers off. It is an ambiguous one, which I know some people don’t like. I love that kind of ending though, because it leaves me to ponder how I think things turned out. How I hope they turned out. And I didn’t feel at all cheated by it either. It’s well-supported, but stops just short of telling us everything.
Something did hold me back from completely loving the book though. I think it would have been better if we had met the narrator a bit earlier in his career to follow his downward trajectory more completely. It all felt a bit too sudden to me. I wanted to know the narrator and his relationship to his teacher better.
Overall this is a great piece of translated crime fiction that gives the reader a peak at the crime underworld of Tokyo. I recommend it to fans of both unique crime fiction and works in translation.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: NetGalley
Book Review: The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood
Summary:
Hopefully anyone who’s read The Odyssey remembers Odysseus’s long-suffering wife, Penelope, who waited years for his return from the Trojan War, all while raising their son and fending off suitors who were eating her out of house and home. Here, Atwood turns the focus from Odysseus onto Penelope, who from the underworld of Hades tells us about her own life, interspersed with choruses by the 12 maids who were hung to death upon Odysseus’s return.
Review:
I’ve taken to loading an audiobook on my ipod for those frequent times when I either have to walk from a T stop or am crammed onto a train with literally no elbow-room to hold onto my kindle. I was excited to see this on the shelf at my library, since I had decided rather spur of the moment to pick one up, and I do love Atwood. Plus, this is only three discs long, which is good for my audiobook attention span.
For me the story ultimately fails, although I don’t blame Atwood for that. The thing is, Penelope, to a modern woman, is kind of pathetic. It’s not easy to make her into a heroine we can root for, the way we can root for Odysseus. Ok, so he’s a womanizer and a liar, but he’s also brilliant and hilarious. The kind of guy you want to be friends with, but don’t want to date. Yet Penelope not only is married to him, but has never stood up to him. Even when he’s been gone for years and years fighting in a war. Atwood is a great writer, but that’s just not a situation you can fix. I completely get Atwood’s fascination with Penelope’s story, not to mention the 12 maids. I don’t think any woman can read The Odyssey and not wonder about it. But it ultimately doesn’t hold up for a story.
Penelope comes across as a woman who lived in tough times to be a woman, yes, but who never does anything really to fight the status quo. She can’t even bring herself to stand up to the elderly maid who takes the run of her household. Plus, she willingly puts her maids into situations where they are likely to get raped (indeed, do get raped) and then doesn’t stand up for them when her wayward husband finally comes home. Is it within character? Sure. Is it something that holds up as the main focus of a story? Nope.
I did enjoy Atwood’s modern take on the Greek chorus using the dead 12 maids. I appreciate her choice to include a chorus in the book, as well as how she played with different ancient and modern music styles. It even left me wishing the maids were the focus of the book instead of Penelope! Of course, interspersing music between chapters is something I’ve seen Atwood do before in The Year of the Flood, and she’s very good at it. It’s an Atwood style that works perfectly in this book.
So what does this all ultimately mean? Atwood’s writing style is creative and pleasant as always, but the topic of the book just isn’t. I think the constraints of who Penelope is from such an ancient story placed a sour note on Atwood’s work that normally isn’t there. It’s an interesting exercise, but not one I found particularly enjoyable to read. I was more interested in it as an academic exercise. If you’re a fan of retellings of the classics, you’ll be intrigued by it.
3 out of 5 stars
Source: Public Library
Book Review: Trespasses: A Memoir by Lacy M. Johnson
Summary:
Lacy grew up in Missouri to a traditional, poor farming family that never bothered to keep track of its European roots. Through interviews with her family members and a series of personal vignettes, Lacy explores what it is to be white and poor in America, the farming community, and the odd in-between Missouri inhabits as not quite southern and not quite midwestern.
Review:
The concept behind this book is excellent. The execution is discombobulated with a few gems at best, off-putting to the reader at worst.
I think what is most difficult about this book as a reader is that we jump around through time and situations with no guidance. Who is Judith? How is she related to Archie? For that matter, how is she related to the author? We have no real idea. I’m not against the jumps around the family time-line as a method in contrast to the more traditional linear timeline, but the reader needs to know who we are reading about. I honestly think an intro with a simple, straight-forward family tree would have helped immensely. Instead we have to wait until later in the book to determine who these women are that the author is speaking about. It leaves things confused.
Then there’s the narration style. It jumps from “you are so and so” to third person to first person past to first person present without any real rhyme or reason. I can appreciate the style of the individual vignettes. Individually, they are well-written. But assembled together into one single book where they are all supposed to tell a cohesive story, they are puzzling and off-putting.
The absolute strength of the work is when Lacy puts down her story-telling mantel and simply talks about the history of the terms “white trash, cracker,” what it is to grow up white trash, what it is to change class setting from poor to academic. These were interesting and relatable. I believe this is the author’s strong point and would encourage her to pursue this in future works. It is certainly an experience that she is not alone in having in her lifetime.
Overall although the concept of this memoir is strong and unique, the method of time-jumping vignettes and constantly changing narration styles make for a confusing read. I would recommend you browse a copy in a library or a bookstore if you are interested in the author’s writing style or one or two particular vignettes, but not venture beyond that.
2 out of 5 stars
Source: NetGalley
Book Review: The Book of Lost Fragrances by M. J. Rose (Series, #4)
Summary:
Jac ran away from her family’s traditional perfumerie in Paris to pursue a career in mythology in her mother’s homeland of the USA. This move was spurred on by her mother’s suicide, and Jac’s own subsequent loss of touch with reality. Years of therapy later, all is well, but when Jac’s brother and current manager of the perfumerie goes missing, Jac must face up to her demons at home, as well as scenes in her own mind. Are they delusions or past life memories?
Review:
I requested this on NetGalley without realizing it was part of a series, but it is evident each entry in the series is about different people whose lives intertwine in a minor way. Thus, I was able to read this book without feeling that sense of disorientation that happens when you jump into the middle of a series. I’m glad too, because I found the story an intriguingly different plot-line for a thriller.
Essentially, there are some pottery pieces that Robbie discovers in his home that may or may not have once held a scent that allows whoever smells it to remember their past lives. A past life therapist wants these pottery pieces, Robbie wants to give them to the Dalia Lama, and the Chinese government wants to keep them out of the Dalai Lama’s hand in their on-going quest against Tibet. It’s a good big world plot, but the overall focus is mostly on Jac, which is how I tend to prefer thrillers. And Jac is a great character. She is strong, intelligent, a caring sister. She had a rough childhood, but still has her head on straight. Her struggle with whether or not she had past lives ends up not being as important as the reader might at first think, which I also appreciated. Jac’s character development is about accepting herself for who she is and not making selfish choices. It is not at all the romance I thought at first it was going to be, and that is a good thing.
Rose evokes the settings of Paris and NYC with equal aptitude. I must say I found myself craving an afternoon at the museum and some creperies when I was done with the book. The perfumerie business and house are equally beautiful and easy to picture, but also the tunnels underneath Paris are evoked well. Setting and characterization are strong points of Rose’s.
I did periodically feel the book moved too slow in the beginning. Also, I was disappointed that people who were evil now were evil in past lives and the good were always good. Similarly, only one person had a past life as a different gender. I get it that Rose’s point is that one needs to know one’s past lives in order to fix your mistakes that you make over and over, but I think it’s a bit short-sighted to think that if reincarnation did exist it would be that simplistic. Also, personally, I just don’t believe in soul mates, so having that as a strong theme in the book was rather eye-roll inducing.
Overall, this is a fun worldwide thriller with educated people at the center of it that includes thought-provoking themes like self-improvement and self-acceptance. Fans of the modern, globe-spanning thriller will enjoy it, as well as anyone who has a love of Paris.
4 out of 5 stars
Source: NetGalley
Previous Books In Series:
The Reincarnationist
The Memorist
The Hypnotist
Book Review: The Walking Dead: Rise of the Governor by Robert Kirkman and Jay Bonansinga (Series, #1)
Summary:
The first in a prequel trilogy that relates how the baddest villain of The Walking Dead’s zombie apocalypse came to be–not just how he came to rule Woodbury, but how he became an evil sociopath.
Review:
Wow. Just wow. If I could be a good book blogger and just say that I would, but I can’t so I suppose I must attempt to put my love for this book into words.
First of all, it’s important to know that this is sort of a prequel to The Walking Dead graphic novels. It’s the origin story of The Governor (aka one of the most evil comic book villains ever). Only instead of sticking to his graphic novel format, Kirkman, with the assistance of Bonansinga, went with the written word. Now, I was offered this book as an audiobook, and I have to say this really affected my reading of it. The reader, Fred Berman, does an absolutely amazing job. He has a natural standard American accent, but seamlessly slips into a Southern drawl when the characters speak. Beyond this though he is able to bring the anguish and tensity to the survival scenes that is necessary without seeming melodramatic. It reminded me of being read to by my own father when I was a little girl. I found myself choosing to curl up with the audiobook over many other activities. So. I’m not sure if the experience is the same reading it yourself. I do know that listening to the audiobook is a remarkable experience.
Now, this is a zombie apocalypse horror novel about an evil man. It gets uncomfortable. Kirkman and Bonansinga bring us inside the minds of men warped by situations and psychiatric problems alike. It’s not pretty. It makes you squirm. But it’s supposed to. Some reviewers have accused this book of being misogynistic because bad things seem to happen an awful lot to the female characters. I have a couple of things to say about that. First of all, hello, do you live in this world? Because women have to survive a lot of bad shit. Second, this is an apocalypse. Think of it as a war zone. Do women get molested, raped, murdered, treated as less strong and unequal? Absolutely. The book isn’t misogynistic. It’s realistic about how a south torn apart by zombies would treat women. The way to determine if a book in this sort of situation is misogynistic is to look at how the author treats the women. Does he present them as hysterical, over-reacting? Do they refuse to stand up for themselves? I can unequivocally say that although horrible things happen to the women in this book, they fight for themselves. It is therefore not misogynistic, but realistic.
Now one thing that probably a lot of people wonder is is the story predictable? We already know who The Governor is and that he keeps his zombie daughter as a pet. That would seem to remove the ability for the authors to surprise us at all. I am happy to say that in spite of knowing the end result, this story kept me on the edge of my seat. Some readers didn’t like all of the surprises and twists. Personally, I feel that they brought the novel up a notch in both talent and enjoyability.
Overall, this is a wonderful addition to The Walking Dead canon. Fans of the graphic novel series will not be disappointed, although fans of the tv show seem to be taken aback by it. All I can say is that the books don’t pull any punches and are not for the squeamish. If you don’t want to be challenged, stick to tv. Everyone else should scoop this up as soon as possible.
5 out of 5 stars
Source: Copy from the publisher in exchange for my honest review and a giveaway
Book Review: Dead Harvest by Chris F. Holm (Series, #1)
Summary:
Sam sold his soul to the devil in the 1940s and ever since then he’s been hopping from body to body, possessing and utilizing them to perform his task–collect the souls of the dammed. Although he can possess anyone, he prefers the recently dead. His new assignment stops him dead in his tracks though when he touches the 17 year old girl’s soul, a girl who supposedly killed her mother, father, and brother in cold blood, and finds it untainted. His refusal to collect her sends both angels and demons after him, eager to restore the balance, but Sam insists that collecting her soul will only bring about the Apocalypse.
Review:
I’m not sure why, but somewhere between my email from Angry Robot about this then upcoming book and actually reading it, I forgot what it was about and assumed from the title that it’s about zombies. Um, not so much? Haha. Actually, it is an urban fantasy film noir. Instead of a detective we have a collector, who, a friend pointed out to me, is basically the same as Sam the Reaper on the tv show Reaper. Our femme fatale is Lilith (you know, the first woman god made but she refused to be subservient to man so she got kicked out of the garden and went and hung out with demons. I always liked her). It all sounds super-cool, but I was left feeling very luke-warm about the whole thing.
First, there’s how Sam talks, which I get is supposed to come across as witty banter, but I myself didn’t find that amusing. Perhaps I’m way too familiar with the classic works of film noir and to me this just didn’t measure up. Perhaps I’m just a mismatch for it. I feel like people with a slightly different sense of humor would enjoy it more, though. Personally it just read as Sam trying too hard to sound suave, which I always find annoying.
My other big issue with the story is a couple of really unbelievable action sequences. Ok, I get it that this is urban fantasy, but even within that we still need believability. What do I mean by this? Well, if something huge happens that affects the mortals, there should be discussion of how the immortals cover it up or deal with the fall-out. This doesn’t really happen in this book. One sequence in particular that bugged me involved Sam and the 17 year old hijacking a helicopter, flying it all over NYC, then crashing it in a park AND THEY GET AWAY. Does anyone believe this could actually happen in a post 9/11 world unless some sort of otherworldly shielding was going on? I don’t think so. It was at this point that I knew the book was just not gonna work for me.
Does this mean that I think it’s a badly written book? No. It’s an interesting twist on urban fantasy and film noir simultaneously. The characters are interesting, and the plot wraps-up fairly well. I personally found it difficult to get into and found some sequences simply too ridiculous to believe. However, I do think other people might enjoy it more, perhaps someone who has an intense love for urban fantasy and doesn’t mind ridiculous situations.
3 out of 5 stars
Source: Kindle copy from publisher in exchange for my honest review




