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Showing posts with label Father/Daughter Relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Father/Daughter Relationships. Show all posts
Saturday, November 27, 2021
YA Romantic Adventure a Fun, Exciting Read
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
The Texas River Odyssey is a grueling, 265-mile competition that pits canoers against every kind of danger—from raging rapids to snapping alligators to paralyzing exhaustion to agonizing injuries. Sadie Scofield can't wait to tackle the race. Not only is the 17-year-old out to prove that she, like competitors from the past three generations of her family, can finish the race but she also has to redeem herself after last year's debacle. Because of her, her father's 20 year finishing streak ended. Their relationship hasn't been the same since and Sadie can't stand it. This year, she's teamed up with her older brother, Tanner. Despite some tough competition, she knows they have an excellent chance of finishing the race, maybe even winning. If she can just make her dad proud, maybe things will go back to normal between them.
When Tanner joins another team at the last minute, Sadie is shocked. And desperate. Her only option is to team up with John "Culley" Cullen, the boy she once called her best friend. She hasn't spoken to him in six years, not since a bitter family feud turned them into enemies. With no other choice, the two form a tense, awkward partnership. Out of synch from the get-go, it seems unlikely the pair will make it through the next hour, let alone through three days of forced closeness while competing in a punishing race against dozens of well-oiled teams. Can they set aside their differences long enough to finish? As the competition intensifies, tempers flare, and truths from the past are revealed. Will the tension break the uneasy duo? Or will it bring them together in ways neither of them could ever have imagined?
Contemporary YA isn't my usual genre, but In the Same Boat—a debut novel by Holly Green—sounded like a fun change of pace, so I decided to give it a whirl. The story features competitive canoeing, something I've never read about before. It may be a little over-focused on the race at its core, but the story offers lots of interesting details about canoeing and the canoeing community, which helps bring the setting to vivid life. Although a lot of unfamiliar terms are used in the novel, which sometimes made it tough for me to picture exactly what was happening, I got the drift enough to become engaged in the story. It's got plenty of action, tension, and conflict to keep the reader burning through the pages. While I'm not a competitive person and really can't understand the kind of drive that would make anyone want to compete in an exhausting, dangerous river race, Green created convincing motivations for the main characters so I got while they were all in. Sadie and Cully are both sympathetic and determined, which made me root for them, even though I didn't really love the former. All in all, though, I enjoyed this book. It's a quick, entertaining read that teaches some good lessons about friendship, family, being enough, and working to accomplish one's goals.
(Readalikes: I don't read much in this genre, so I'm not sure what to compare In the Same Boat to. Any ideas?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (a dozen or so F-bombs, plus milder expletives), violence, and innuendo
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of In the Same Boat from the generous folks at Scholastic in exchange for an honest review. Thank you!
Monday, December 21, 2020
MG Survival Story Riveting and Real
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As a Sonoran Desert dweller myself, I'm very well aware of the dangers posed by our unique climate and landscape. Our local news is always full of warnings about excessive heat, staying hydrated, hiking alone, flash flooding, etc. Many people have been hurt, even killed, by these dangers. In fact, Dusti Bowling—who lives here in Arizona—wrote The Canyon's Edge partially in response to the tragic 2017 deaths of nine family members who were caught in a flash flood outside of nearby Payson. These very real stories make Bowling's fictional one feel all the more harrowing and real. The Canyon's Edge is a tense, exciting page-turner that's so compelling it's impossible to put down. It's written in verse, using text art to create a story that is as visually interesting as it is engrossing. I raced through the book in one sitting because it truly is that immersive and unputdownable. The book teaches some invaluable lessons about outdoor survival while also examining intriguing themes like grief, resilience, the struggle to move on after tragedy, and rebirth. It's an impactful novel that should appeal to even reluctant readers.
(Readalikes: Reminds me of other survival novels like Hatchet by Gary Paulsen, Be Not Far From Me by Mindy McGinnis, When We Were Lost by Kevin Wignall, etc.)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for scenes of peril
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Saturday, June 20, 2020
Hawaiian World War II Novel Offers Rich, Atmospheric Setting and Intriguing (Enough) Tale
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When Lana Hitchcock learns her estranged father is dying, she rushes from Oahu to her hometown of Hilo on the Big Island. Too late to make amends, she's mourning her loss at her childhood home when Pearl Harbor is attacked. Lana is stunned by the news; even more shocking is her dad's apparent prediction of the war reaching Hawaii's shores. According to a note he left her, Lana's father built a safe house up in the mountains near an active volcano. When the police begin rounding up "suspicious" persons for questioning, Lana knows she must act to save her dad's beloved neighbors. Into her car, she piles two German girls whose parents have been detained, an elderly Japanese man, his adopted teenage son, the girls' oversized dog, two nene geese, and all the food she can stack in among them. With her heart banging in her chest, she flees to the secret house where she will hide her wards for the duration.
Numerous surprises await the group in Volcano, including an unfinished house with a secret room, wild horses roaming the property, a nearby military camp turned into internment housing, and the handsome soldier whose attentions to Lana are dangerous for them all. Can Lana keep the people in her care safe in spite of dwindling rations and soldiers crawling all over Volcano? Will they be killed outright by Japanese soldiers? Or will the lot of them be imprisoned by their own countrymen? With danger around every corner, will Lana lose everything that's important to her?
I've read tons of World War II novels, but very few that focus on life in Hawaii after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Sara Ackerman, who was born and raised in the islands, has written several, including her newest, Red Sky Over Hawaii. There's a lot to love about this book, from its rich, atmospheric setting, to its dip into fascinating Hawaiian folklore, to its light sprinkling of magical realism. The fact that it's a clean read filled with likable characters is also a plus. However, although Ackerman's story people are mostly good and honorable, they're not super rounded or fleshed-out. I didn't feel like I really knew Lana or her leading man, which made it difficult to detect any chemistry between the two. Similarly, the book's plot is rather lackadaisical. Since Lana and company are basically hiding out, hoping not to get caught, not a lot happens to them. There is never a point in their tale when the reader really has to worry about their well-being, which makes their story a little dull. Despite these irritants, overall I enjoyed Red Sky Over Hawaii. I didn't love the book like I wanted to, but I did like it.
(Readalikes: Reminds me of Island of Sweet Pies and Soldiers by Sara Ackerman and Under the Blood-Red Sun by Graham Salisbury)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for brief, mild language (no F-bombs), violence, and mild innuendo
To the FTC, with love: I received an e-ARC of Red Sky Over Hawaii from the generous folks at Harlequin in exchange for an honest review. Thank you!
Friday, May 17, 2019
Alaskan Debut Novel One Strange Ride
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Tracy Petrikoff would rather be out in the thick woods surrounding her Alaskan home than anywhere else. Especially school. The 17-year-old can't stand being trapped inside when there is a forest to explore, food to be hunted and gathered, and training to be done for the Iditarod. As soon as she turns 18, Tracy plans not only to enter the race but also to become a dog sled racing champion like her father.
When strange things start happening in the forest, Tracy feels decidedly unsettled. Then a teenage boy comes wondering out of the trees, looking for work. Although Tracy's father hires him on the spot, Tracy can't get a handle on the odd stranger. She becomes especially nervous as the boy worms his way into the Petrikoffs' insulated lives. Tracy knows Jesse is hiding something, but what? With her senses sharply honed from a lifetime of stalking animals, Tracy knows danger is near. Is the trouble coming from without? Or, much more likely, from within?
It's tough to describe The Wild Inside, a debut novel by Jamey Bradbury. On one hand, it's an atmospheric thriller which is both unique and compelling. On the other hand, it's an odd, unsettling, often nauseating story that is sometimes so blood-soaked it made me want to vomit. I enjoyed learning about what it takes to compete in the Iditarod and I would have found this book much more appealing had it just been a story of a plucky teenage girl determined to win the big race. Instead, The Wild Inside takes some weird turns that left me scratching my head. Overall, the novel is depressing, and, in the end, just felt pointless. The plot engaged me enough that I finished the book, but man, what a strange read!
(Readalikes: Hm, I can't think of anything. Can you?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language, violence, blood/gore, and disturbing subject matter
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of The Wild Inside from the generous folks at HarperCollins in exchange for an honest review. Thank you!
Friday, June 01, 2018
Grief Novel Poignant and Engaging
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Maddy Starling may have left her family, but she can't quite leave them alone. Even as a ghost, she worries about her workaholic husband and their grief-stricken 16-year-old daughter, Eve. Without Maddy there to bridge the gap, to keep the household running and manage everyone's emotions, what will become of her fractured family? The least she can do is find a replacement for herself, someone who can be a companion to Brady and a loving mentor for Eve. She thinks she may have found the perfect woman in Rory Murray, an elementary school teacher who's tutoring Eve. Is Rory, who comes with her own baggage, really a suitable stand-in? Can Maddy somehow "push" her and Brady together?
In the meantime, Brady and Eve have to learn how to cope without the wife and mother who's always held them together. Neither one can quite grasp the fact that Maddy—the most put together woman either of them has ever known—committed suicide, purposely leaving them behind. It makes no sense. Reading Maddy's diary brings some answers, but also more questions. Why would someone like Maddy jump off a building, ending what seemed like a perfect life? In order to rebuild their shattered lives, Brady and Eve must come to terms with what happened on that rooftop and learn to forge a new future for themselves. Can they find their way, even as Maddy's influence grows more and more difficult to assert? Can Maddy, Brady, and Eve figure out how to move on, even when all they want is to go back to the way things were?
I'm known for writing honest reviews, but Jenny over at Alternate Readality takes the art to a whole new (and often hilarious) level, so when she raves about a book, I pay attention. She recently recommended I Liked My Life, a debut novel by Abby Fabiaschi, which I also ended up enjoying. While I didn't love the book quite as much as Jenny did, I agree that it features solid writing, intriguing characters, and a plot that kept me turning pages. The story feels raw and real, but it's also funny and hopeful. All of the main characters are complex, sympathetic, and interesting, which makes it easy to root for their happiness. Fabiaschi even throws in some plot twists to keep things interesting. All in all, then, I Liked My Life makes for an engaging, thought-provoking read that I thoroughly enjoyed.
(Readalikes: Hm, I can't think of anything. Can you?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for strong language, violence, mild sexual content, and depictions of underage drinking
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Monday, May 28, 2018
Never That Far Tells a Poignant, Powerful Story of Loss and Love
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
I usually craft my own plot summaries, but Never That Far, Carol Lynch Williams' newest, isn't the easiest novel to describe. The publisher's version says everything that needs to be said in one succinct paragraph, so I'm going to go with it:
After her grampa dies, the last place Libby expects to see him is sitting on the edge of her bed. But that's what happens the night after his funeral. Even more surprising is that Grampa has three important things to tell her: first, that she isn't alone or forgotten—"The dead ain't never that far from the living," he says; second, that she has "the Sight"—the ability to see family members who have died; and third, that there is something special just for her in the lake. Something that could help her and her father—if she can find it. Libby and Grampa try to help her father heal from his grief, but it will take all of Libby's courage and her gift of Sight to convince her father that the dead are never truly gone.
Set against a lush central Florida backdrop, Never That Far tells a poignant, powerful story about loss and love. Libby's heartbreak and yearning are so palpable that it's impossible not to root for her happiness. Her actions and reactions feel authentic, making her a very real character. This, plus an atmospheric setting; a rich, mystical vibe; and some important messages about faith, family, and friendship, make Never That Far a compelling read. I enjoyed it.
(Readalikes: Um, I can't really think of anything. Can you?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for difficult subject matter and scenes of peril
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Never That Far from the generous folks at Shadow Mountain. Thank you!
Tuesday, January 30, 2018
Haunting Watery Dystopian Asks Big Questions
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"Why do you cling to the end, when the beginning is waiting?" (13)
Lalla Paul has never experienced a normal life in a safe, stable environment. She's grown up in a London ravaged by the deadly effects of global warming, scarcity, disease, fear, and rigid government control. As the daughter of wealthy, influential parents, the 16-year-old has been sheltered in her parents' apartment, protected from the violence and chaos that grows ever more prevalent on the streets outside her windows. Although her mother has done her best to educate Lalla, the teen knows very little about life beyond the walls of her well-guarded flat.
For years, Lalla's father, Michael, has been planning the family's exit strategy. He's had a ship built and stocked with enough supplies to support 500 people on a voyage over the open sea. Through a careful selection process, Michael has chosen the smartest, most skilled passengers—the kind of people who will be most useful in building a new society.
When push comes to shove, Michael's plan is put into frantic action. Suddenly, Lalla finds herself adrift in a floating city that is not quite the utopia it seems to be. As she comes to understand what is really going on, she'll have to decide what she truly wants for her future and how far she's willing to go to make it happen.
The Ship—a debut novel by English writer Antonia Honeywell—tells a dystopian tale that's both haunting and compelling despite being skimpy on action. It's more of an introspective story, almost an allegory (we've got a Noah's Ark archetype, plus a Michael/Adam character—a deeper reader would likely find plenty of religious symbolism here) about leaving expectations behind and starting over in a brave, new world. Regardless of how you interpret it, the novel definitely raises thought-provoking questions. I liked that about it, even if I found the characters (especially Lalla) irritating and the plot a bit ho-hum. Overall, though, I enjoyed The Ship. It's not the kind of book I'm going to be shouting about from the rooftops, but it ended up being a decent read for me.
(Readalikes: Reminds me a teensy bit of Icebreaker by Lian Tanner)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for mild language (no F-bombs), violence, mild sexual content, and disturbing subject matter
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Thursday, October 05, 2017
Cash's Second a Tense, Gritty Page Turner
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Although they're not technically orphans, 12-year-old Easter Quillby and her little sister, Ruby, might as well be parent-less. Their mother is dead and they haven't seen their good-for-nothing father in years. When Wade Chesterfield shows up out of the blue with plans to break the girls out of their group foster home, Easter is shocked. She barely knows her dad and isn't sure it's a great idea to ride off into the sunset with him. Not that she really has a choice.
As the Quillby sisters' ad litem guardian, ex-cop Brady Weller is naturally concerned about the girls' disappearance. It's even more worrisome that they're with Wade, who Brady discovers has recently been involved in a multi-million dollar robbery. Brady's not the only one on their tail. A bouncer with a score to settle, Robert Pruitt is also tracking Wade. With both men hunting him, it won't be long before his freedom ends—one way or another. Will two frightened little girls get caught in the crossfire? Or will Wade's dream of starting over actually come to fruition? What would be best for Easter and Ruby? Will they live long enough to find out?
This Dark Road to Mercy, Wiley Cash's second novel, tells a tense, gritty story that will keep you turning pages until you get to its surprisingly hopeful end. Although none of the adults in this tale are particularly likable, the Quillby girls are certainly sympathetic characters. Overall, their tale is a sad, depressing one. It has a satisfying, redeeming conclusion, however. In the end, I didn't love this one, but I liked it well enough.
(Readalikes: Reminded me a little bit of The Talented Ribkins by Ladee Hubbard)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (no F-bombs), violence, blood/gore, and depictions/mention of illegal drug use
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Thursday, February 18, 2016
The Mystery of Hollow Places A Breath of Fresh Air
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Aside from a mystical tale about her parents meeting over a dead body at the morgue, Imogene Scott knows little about her mother. Only two facts stand out: Sidonie Scott suffered from depression and she left when Immy was just a toddler. Since then, Immy has relied only on her father, a forensic anthropologist turned bestselling mystery writer. Although her stepmother, Lindy, tries, she and Immy just don't see eye-to-eye. So, when her father fails to come home one night, Immy is naturally distraught. Prone to bi-polar episodes, Joshua Scott could be anywhere doing anything. Because of a vague clue he left behind, Immy believes her father is searching for Sidonie, his one true love. If she can track down her long-lost birth mother, she knows she'll find Joshua as well.
Raised on a steady diet of mystery novels, Immy knows a thing or two about solving difficult puzzles. Using methods gleaned from her favorite stories—including those written by her dad—she uses the few clues she has to follow the trails of her missing parents. As she separates the facts from the fiction she's been told, Immy will make some shocking discoveries about her parents and herself. The more that's revealed, the more she comes to appreciate her perfectly imperfect family, friendships, and future. But, the answers to her deepest questions remain elusive—What happened to Joshua Scott? Does Sidonie have anything to do with his disappearance? Most importantly, why did Immy's mother abandon her? And will Immy's already broken family ever be whole again?
Traditional-type mysteries are a rarity in the world of YA. The Mystery of Hollow Places, a debut novel by Rebecca Podos, thus feels like a breath of fresh air, even though it's really not all that original. Still, there's something to be said for a teen book that focuses more on a mystery than on a romance (or, God forbid, a love triangle) or petty high school dramas. At its heart, The Mystery of Hollow Places is about Immy trying to find someone—not her parents, but herself. All of these elements, plus the story's exciting, fast-paced plot, make it an enjoyable read. I would have liked to encounter more twists in Immy's road to self-discovery (and mystery-solving), but overall, the book kept me both engrossed and entertained. I'm anxious to see what Podos does next.
(Readalikes: Elements of this novel reminded me of One By One by Jojo Moyes)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (a dozen or so F-bombs, plus milder expletives); brief references to illegal drug use and underage drinking; and non-graphic references to sex
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Wednesday, January 06, 2016
Warm Family Saga Quiet, But Compelling
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Although 17 years have passed since Eustacia "Taisy" Cleary's father cruelly expelled her, her twin brother, and their mother from his life, the betrayal still stings. Not that Wilson Cleary would have won any Dad of the Year awards. The arrogant genetics professor really only cared about one person—himself. After almost two decades, not much has changed. Although Wilson has—uncharacteristically—lavished affection on Willow, the prized only child of his second marriage, he still cares little for his disappointing "first family." Now 35, Taisy knows she should be over her daddy issues. And yet, she's not. Not by a long shot.
So, when 71-year-old Wilson summons Taisy to his bedside after a major health scare, she can't help herself. She goes. Hoping for reconciliation or at least an apology, she's disappointed to find that Wilson isn't interested in resolving differences. Instead, he wants to hire Taisy—a burgeoning ghost writer—to draft a book about his illustrious professional career. To get the project off the ground as quickly as possible, Wilson will pay her expenses, even allowing her to bunk in his pool house. Taisy knows she should refuse, but she can't. There are things she needs to know about Wilson's past, things she's determined to find out—even if he has no intention of telling her.
Living with her estranged father is awkward enough, but Taisy also has to deal with Caro, her spacey stepmother, and Willow, the much fawned over golden child. Then there's Ben Ransom. Taisy's childhood sweetheart has never forgiven her for breaking his heart. She's never loved anyone more than she loved kind, gentle Ben—now that they're living in the same town, she longs for a second chance with him. As Taisy's life intersects with those of Caro, Willow, and Ben, she makes some startling discovers about each of them. It's only while uncovering her father's secrets, though, that she finds the truths she needs to move forward, revelations that have less to do with Wilson and much, much more to do with herself.
As far as family sagas go, The Precious One by Marisa de los Santos, is on the quieter side. And yet, the novel is no less compelling than its more dramatic counterparts. Because of the story's slower pacing, the reader gets to know Taisy and the other characters intimately, which makes each of their sorrows more heartbreaking, their setbacks more painful, their triumphs more sweet. While each member of the book's cast has their flaws, most are sympathetic, making it easy to root for their success. Although I wanted a cleaner ending to this family's strained tale, I think The Precious One comes to a realistically messy conclusion. It manages to be both uplifting and true-to-life. For all these reasons, I enjoyed this slow-building, but engrossing tale about family, forgiveness, and finding oneself in the most surprising of places.
(Readalikes: The Precious One reminds me of other novels about returning home and coming to terms with difficult family situations, although no specific titles are coming to mind. Help?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (1 F-bomb, plus milder expletives), violence, and sexual innuendo/references
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of The Precious One from the generous folks at HarperCollins via those at TLC Book Tours. Thank you!
Thursday, November 05, 2015
Go Set a Watchman: I Didn't Hate It. Surprise!
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"She did not stand alone, but what stood behind her, the most potent moral force in her life, was the love of her father. She never questioned it, never thought about it, never even realized that before she made any decision of importance, the reflex, 'What would Atticus do?' passed through her unconscious; she never realized what made her dig in her feet and stand firm whenever she did was her father; that whatever was decent and of good report in her character was put there by her father; she did not know that she worshiped him ... [she was] complacent in her snug world" (117-18).
When I first heard the announcement about the release of Harper Lee's "new" novel, Go Set a Watchman, I felt ecstatic. More from Maycomb? Yes, please! Then reviews started trickling in. Not-so-great reviews. The flame of my enthusiasm flickered a little. Was Go Set a Watchman going to tarnish my undying love for To Kill a Mockingbird? Would it spoil everything I thought I knew about Atticus Finch & Company? Should I risk reading it or would I be better off just leaving it on the shelf? Since I'm nothing if not daring (actually, I'm nothing like daring), I decided to take the plunge. And, guess what? I didn't hate Go Set a Watchman. I get why some people did, but I didn't. In fact, I liked it.
The novel opens with 26-year-old Jean Louise "Scout" Finch coming home to visit her father in Maycomb. Although little has changed in the decades since she was a child running wild in the streets of the small town, Atticus has somehow become an old man. At 72, he's crippled with rheumatoid arthritis and being looked after by Alexandra, his impossible, always disapproving sister. Of course, seeing her father isn't the only reason Jean Louise is visiting—there's also Henry Clinton, Atticus' right-hand man. And Scout's fianceé, if she would just go ahead and accept his marriage proposal already. Determined to "pursue the stony path of spinsterhood" (15), at least for now, Jean Louise is happy to flirt with her long-suffering beau, philosophize with her aging father, and use her modern, New York-ified ways to scandalize the town she loves so well.
While happily pursuing these aims, Jean Louise stumbles upon a discovery so shocking it shakes her to her very core. With this sucker punch to the gut, her safe little world tilts on its axis, throwing everything she thought she knew about her fair-minded father, his equally equitable colleagues, and her beloved Maycomb into doubt. Is it possible that the people and place she's known all her life have changed so irrevocably in her absence? Or is it Jean Louise? As she grapples with the answers to questions she's never thought to ask, she must face the ultimate question: Where does she truly belong—in prejudiced, provincial Maycomb or in permissive, progressive New York City? It's becoming increasingly obvious that she can't have both.
Like To Kill a Mockingbird, Go Set a Watchman is a coming-of-age story. Even though Scout is already an adult in body, it's her awareness that evolves throughout this novel. The eyes through which she viewed her childhood are opened in ways that are startling and life-changing. Readers who adore To Kill a Mockingbird will likely be just as troubled by the revelations that pummel Scout as she is. Knowing the hard truth, even about fictional people in made-up places, can be horrifying. While I still prefer the idealized version of Maycomb and her residents that appears in TKAM, it's fascinating to compare that with the more complex one Lee offers in Go Set a Watchman. Studied together, the books offer a truly intriguing and enlightening reading experience. Go Set a Watchman isn't the masterpiece that its predecessor is—in fact, it's clunky, confusing, and downright dull in places (although hilarious in others)—but as a companion novel (not a sequel or prequel), it adds illuminating layers to Scout's story. Even if you're a diehard ignorance-is-bliss kind of reader, you don't want to miss this novel. Not only does it bring to life a complicated, contradictory period in history, but it highlights how little things have changed over the years. For a book written in the 1950s, Go Set a Watchman (especially its last few chapters) addresses ideas/themes that are oddly, eerily pertinent to issues we're dealing with today. Beyond that, it's a compelling tale about contradiction, balance, and being humble enough to accept other people's beliefs even when (especially when) they conflict with your own. In my opinion, Go Set a Watchman does exactly what the jacket copy says it does: "It not only confirms the enduring brilliance of To Kill a Mockingbird, but also serves as its essential companion, adding depth, context, and new meaning to an American classic."
(Readalikes: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for mild language (no F-bombs), racial epithets, sexual innuendo, and references (not graphic) to sex, rape, etc.
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of Go Set a Watchman from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Wednesday, January 07, 2015
Shivery Dr. Moreau Retelling As Creepy As the Original (Probably)
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Ever since the gruesome nature of her father's work was brought to light six years ago, Juliet Moreau has been careful to keep her head down. The 16-year-old spends her hours working as a maid at a research hospital in London, going to church every week, and trying to forget she ever knew a man named Henri Moreau. He's dead. He, as well as the terrible research he purportedly engaged in, is better left forgotten.
Juliet has (almost) succeeded in putting her father out of her mind when she discovers that the rumors of his demise have been exaggerated. According to Montgomery James, an old friend of Juliet's who is now her father's assistant, Henri is very much alive. Refusing to be abandoned by her father once again, Juliet insists on accompanying Montgomery to the remote island where he lives and works. What she finds there is a horror show of walking, talking experiments. Repulsed and fascinated in equal measure, Juliet knows she has to leave the awful place before she becomes her father's willing accomplice. But escaping the monsters on the island isn't so easy, especially when the most terrifying one of all might just be your own flesh and blood.
I've never read H.G. Wells' The Island of Dr. Moreau, but I know enough of the story to be creeped out by it. Not that that stopped me from picking up The Madman's Daughter, a spin-off of the sci fi classic. On the contrary—it made me even more eager to give the debut novel by Megan Shepherd a go. Shepherd's version is a shivery Gothic tale full of mystery, suspense and, of course, scary monsters. As Juliet discovers the truth behind her father's experiments, the reader can't help asking moral questions that are just as relevant today as they were in 1896, when Wells published The Island of Dr. Moreau. All these things made the story appealing to me. Not so palatable was the annoying love triangle between Juliet, Montgomery and a stowaway named Edward Prince. Our heroine's irritating fickleness drove me mad, making her a less likable character, even though it's probably the only time she acts like a typical 16-year-old girl. All in all, then, I found The Madman's Daughter engrossing and enjoyable. Not my absolute favorite, but not bad either.
(Readalikes: The Island of Dr. Moreau by H.G. Wells; also, The Madman's Daughter's sequels, Her Dark Curiosity and A Cold Legacy by Megan Shepherd)
Grade:
Juliet has (almost) succeeded in putting her father out of her mind when she discovers that the rumors of his demise have been exaggerated. According to Montgomery James, an old friend of Juliet's who is now her father's assistant, Henri is very much alive. Refusing to be abandoned by her father once again, Juliet insists on accompanying Montgomery to the remote island where he lives and works. What she finds there is a horror show of walking, talking experiments. Repulsed and fascinated in equal measure, Juliet knows she has to leave the awful place before she becomes her father's willing accomplice. But escaping the monsters on the island isn't so easy, especially when the most terrifying one of all might just be your own flesh and blood.
I've never read H.G. Wells' The Island of Dr. Moreau, but I know enough of the story to be creeped out by it. Not that that stopped me from picking up The Madman's Daughter, a spin-off of the sci fi classic. On the contrary—it made me even more eager to give the debut novel by Megan Shepherd a go. Shepherd's version is a shivery Gothic tale full of mystery, suspense and, of course, scary monsters. As Juliet discovers the truth behind her father's experiments, the reader can't help asking moral questions that are just as relevant today as they were in 1896, when Wells published The Island of Dr. Moreau. All these things made the story appealing to me. Not so palatable was the annoying love triangle between Juliet, Montgomery and a stowaway named Edward Prince. Our heroine's irritating fickleness drove me mad, making her a less likable character, even though it's probably the only time she acts like a typical 16-year-old girl. All in all, then, I found The Madman's Daughter engrossing and enjoyable. Not my absolute favorite, but not bad either.
(Readalikes: The Island of Dr. Moreau by H.G. Wells; also, The Madman's Daughter's sequels, Her Dark Curiosity and A Cold Legacy by Megan Shepherd)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (no F-bombs), violence/gore, nudity, and sexual innuendo
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of The Madman's Daughter with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Get Happy Brims With Warmth, Humor (With a Giveaway)
(Image from Egmont USA)
Minerva Watson knows not to expect too much for her sixteenth birthday. Even though she's been hinting for months about the beautiful ukulele she's dying to possess, her mother's the queen of clueless gift-giving. When the FedEx man shows up with a surprise present, Minerva is shocked to see that it's from the father she hasn't seen since she was three years old. Seeing the name Keanu Choy blows all thoughts of ukuleles from her mind. According to the return address on the package, Minerva's dad lives in nearby Chicago. According to the card he included, he wants to get to know her. Unsure how to feel, Minerva hides the gift in her closet, knowing her mother would explode if she knew about it.
While Minerva's trying to decide what to do about her father's sudden, out-of-the-blue interest in her life, she's got other things to worry about. There's her exhausting new job as a birthday party princess, the money she still needs for her precious uke, and the confusing gymnastics her heart performs every time she's near Hayes Martinelli. As if that weren't enough to give her an ulcer, she also needs to find the courage to ask her mom for the truth about Keanu Choy. But, does she really want to know? Does she dare let the man who walked out on her over a decade ago back into her life? When she woke up on her birthday morning, Minerva thought the only thing she needed to be happy was a ukulele; now she wonders about the things she's been missing all her life and if it's worth risking everything to get them.
For a YA novel that clocks in at under 230 pages, Get Happy by Mary Amato, is surprisingly difficult to summarize. Why is that? Probably because Minerva has no real story goal, so the plot feels unfocused, more episodic than purposeful. Which isn't to say the novel isn't entertaining. It is. Get Happy brims over with warmth, heart and humor, making for a bright, fun tale—with substance. Still, the novel's flimsy plot, coupled with its selfish, whiny heroine stopped me from loving this one. In the end, it was only an okay read for me. I did appreciate the book's clean, hopeful tone—something that's rare in YA books—I just wish Get Happy had been a little better crafted. Ah, well.
Note: One of the fun things about Get Happy is that it includes lyrics for songs Minerva makes up throughout the book. Amato, who not only sings and plays guitar and ukulele, but also writes songs, has paired the lyrics with chords so that you can actually play/sing Minerva's songs yourself. You can find the music in the back of the book. If you'd like to hear songs from both Get Happy and Guitar Notes performed, visit Amato's website at: www.thrumsociety.com .
Also: If you want more opinions about Get Happy, follow along on its blog tour. You can check out the tour page here. Be sure to visit Unorthodox Mama, who is also reviewing the book today.)
(Readalikes: Um, I can't think of anything. Can you?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for intense situations and brief mention of prostitution
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Get Happy from the generous folks at Egmont in exchange for my participation in the book's blog tour. Thank you!
Now, for the exciting part. Egmont is providing one copy of Mary Amato's Get Happy for a giveaway here at BBB. If you want a chance to win, please comment on this post and tell me what makes YOU happy. Be sure and include a working email address so that I can contact you if you win. Also, please note that the giveaway is only open to readers with a U.S. or Canadian mailing address. I will choose a winner on Wednesday, November 11. Good luck!
Monday, July 07, 2014
Charming Book About Books Makes Me Gush—With Reservations
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
In the nearly two years since his pregnant wife died in a car crash, grief has dragged 39-year-old A.J. Fikry down into a black pit of despair. He has little hope of escaping it and no real reason to try. A.J.'s business—a small bookstore—slides closer to bankruptcy every day; he has few close friends; and even the great literature that used to keep him company seems to be losing its appeal. The curmudgeonly bookstore owner feels lost in a world that used to make sense.
As if A.J.'s life is not miserable enough, his most prized possession, a valuable antique book, disappears from its climate-controlled display case. In its place, he receives a delivery. And not of the bookish variety. The two events, especially the latter, shake his world to its very core. As he learns to cope with these unexpected changes in his life, A.J. feels—for the first time since his wife's death—not just a purpose in living, but an enthusiasm for it. As he re-learns to embrace the world beyond the covers of his books, A.J. discovers the surprising joy of community, caring, and sharing his passion for great literature with other people (even if their definition of "great" differs quite a bit from his).
The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, a charming adult novel by Gabrielle Zevin, is a difficult tale to describe. Plotwise, it's not much to sneeze at—it's the narration that makes this story such a delight. Fikry has a way of seeing things that is at once unique and familiar, especially to book lovers. I couldn't help but snicker at passages like these:
A.J. has never changed a diaper in his life, though he is a modestly skilled gift wrapper ... he figures diaper changing and gift-wrapping must be related proficiencies ... The whole thing takes about twenty minutes. Babies move more than books and aren't as conveniently shaped (50).
If Jenny were a book, she would be a paperback just out of the box—no dog ears, no waterlogging, no creases in her spine. A.J. would prefer a social worker with some obvious wear. He imagines the synopsis on the back of the Jenny story: when plucky Jenny from Fairfield, Connecticut, took a job as a social worker in the big city, she had no idea what she was getting into (64-65).How can you not love a voice as rich and droll as this one? It captivated me. Fikry's story, though not all that original, is also compelling. As are those of the other characters. In fact, the only thing that kept me from not outright adoring The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry was its R-rated elements (F-bombs, sexual content, etc.), which seemed out of place in a tale that otherwise brims with an old-fashioned, classic type of charm. If it weren't for these "aberrations," I would be gushing about this book right and left, pushing it on every bibliophile I know. As is, I can only recommend it with reservations. The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry has such appeal, I just wish Zevin had stripped out all the "mature" elements and kept it clean enough for book lovers of all ages to enjoy this homage to reading—and to life.
(Readalikes: Hm, I can't think of anything. Can you?)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for strong language, sexual content, and references to illegal drug use
To the FTC, with love: I bought a copy of The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger. Ha ha.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Powerful and Poignant, Laurie Halse Anderson's Newest Is Not to Be Missed
(Image from Barnes & Noble)
Though Hayley should probably be thrilled with her dad's decision to move back to his childhood home in upstate New York, she's not. She's scared—scared of going to school, scared of meeting new people, scared of someone discovering her turbulent home life. Hayley vows not to let anyone get that close. Not even Finn, the cute boy who obviously wants to get to know her better. Especially not Finn. If he knew the truth, he'd run as far away from the Kincains as he could go.
As Andy Kincain's PTSD gets increasingly worse and Hayley's plagued with disturbing flashbacks of her own, she begins to wonder if maybe it's all too much for one teenager to handle. But what can she do? How can she save them both?
Laurie Halse Anderson is one of those authors whose books I will always pick up and read. With novels like Speak and now The Impossible Knife of Memory, she's proved herself to be a skilled, sensitive writer who explores tough issues with a deft, yet delicate hand. Her people and places come to such vivid life that readers can't help becoming ensnared in their stories. Anderson's newest novel is no exception. It's a sharp, compelling tale made even more affecting because it stems from the author's own experience dealing with her father's PTSD. Powerful and poignant, The Impossible Knife of Memory is not to be missed.
(Readalikes: Reminds me of Miles From Ordinary by Carol Lynch Williams and A Blue So Dark by Holly Schindler)
Grade:
If this were a movie, it would be rated:
for language (1 F-bomb, plus milder invectives), sexual innuendo, violence and depictions of alcohol abuse and illegal drug use
To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of The Impossible Knife of Memory from the generous folks at Penguin. Thank you!
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