I have not been into a book as much as I have been into The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon for a long time. In this novel, 9-year-old Trisha strays from the path and gets lost in the woods, encountering challenges the woods brings her, whether real or not.
As a lover of survival video games, this novel was utterly compelling. The way King writes Trisha’s character has the reader relating to her so much that it’s almost as if the reader and Trisha are one in the decisions that she makes, the fears that she feels, and wondering constantly if this whole thing isn’t just in her head. In the end, both the reader and Trisha find out that the difference between reality and dreams does not matter when you are lost. The visual descriptions that King provides are so vivid I could imagine myself right in the forest with Trisha.
A big theme in this book is decisions. Not only the decisions Trisha must make during her long trek in the woods, but also the decisions of those who have lost and are looking for her: her mother’s and brother’s decisions of being so stubborn that they push Trisha away; her father’s decision to manipulate in his own way; and so on. It is a wonderful take on humanity – decisions are what define us, make us selfish like Trisha’s parents, or even point us further away from our goals, like Trisha strayed from the path in the woods. In the end, we must make the decisions that will make us stronger, and Trisha does just this.
Overall, I have struggled to put down The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon throughout my read of it. I recommend this novel to anyone who feels lost, and who wants a good thriller.
I went into Garden of Ravens thinking I was going to get a clever collection of poems that uses themes of folklore and fairytale. After all, as the description says, it is a” collection of dark poetry that journeys through folklore, twisted tales, mental breakdowns, and depression”.
What there actually was of folklore was very little, and I would not call the use of these references clever. There were references to Little Red Riding Hood, The Boy Who Cried Wolf, Macbeth, Greek Myths, and a few others; I can see how they were trying to be used, in a way of feminism and representation of abuse. However, all these references did was add a small amount of intellect to an otherwise depressing collection. All in all the folklore themes really were not very important to this collection, which is disappointing.
Most of the collection is about heartbreak and it is very clear that the author needs therapy. It is in the same style and theme as the poems of Rupi Kaur. I understand why it sells, it directly evokes a lot of emotions that people feel when they are unlucky in love. However, the constancy of that theme makes the collection (and others like it) very oppressive and, again, not clever. There was no cleverness in the meter or words used; there were sometimes rhyme schemes but that felt like using rhyme scheme for the sake of rhyme scheme and not for any particular poetic purpose.
Some of the poems, also, were quite creepy. Not horror/folktale creepy, but as if the author is a stalker creepy. I honestly wonder why the publisher thought this collection was a good idea. The themes are good, but the execution is just plain awful and shows no careful or artistic thought. I would not recommend this to anyone.
I did not know what to expect when I first picked up The Encyclopedia of Early Earth. I sort of assumed that it would be different entries on all sorts of flora and fauna found in prehistoric Earth. But, as Isabel Greenberg says on the back cover, “this book is not a real encyclopedia”. Instead it is a story about the adventures of a storyteller and the stories that he tells and learns as he meets all sorts of people. The stories, interwoven, going deeper and deeper (you could call it story-ception) are definitely based on known myths and folktales, and tales from the Torah, though Greenberg has, through her ingenius world-building of her Early Earth, given these stories a unique flavor.
The art is charming, very simple, and mostly monochrome, illustrating well the stories that take place in cold lands, and also making it so that it is the stories the reader focuses on, with the illustrations as the supplementary medium.
As a lover of folklore, this has been the perfect book for me. I recommend this to those who love stories, whether you listen to or tell them.
I will start this review by saying that I did not finish this book. I had many problems with the way it was written. First, Wees has written the characters in such a way that you cannot connect with them at all. We see everyone through the eyes of the main character Rhea, her mom and dad barely known to us, and her sisters either mean, insane, or just plain boring, and all for no reason.
Second, there was literally no point to the story, no premise. Wees introduces the story of a family who possibly deals with dreams, maybe magic, but also does not seem totally accepting of Rhea’s “visions” (which I think are, personally, just dreams, though I couldn’t say because Wees never actually describes them). Then there are the chapters involving a witch, whom I am assuming is supposed to be a past life of Rhea. However, I am halfway through the book and the plot seems to not be moving forward very much.
Suffice to say, I am quite disappointed. Wees had a good idea for this book but did not execute it well. She could have done so much more. And I understand that this is a first novel (and honestly it’s not bad for a first novel), but she can do much better. There will be people who like this book, especially younger people. This book, however, is not at all for me.
I read The End We Start From by Megan Hunter for the Reading Rush challenge: read a book with 5 or more words in the title.
I picked up this book randomly at the bookstore with absolutely no expectations. The only thing I noticed about it was that the text was structured very poetically. The style is as if stream of consciousness and elegy merged together to create the floating and uncertain language appropriate for a dystopian novel centered around the flooding of the world (in a manner of speaking).
The story is narrated by a woman who is a new mother, separated from her husband for most of the book when a flood takes over London and forces most to flee. The language used in this mother’s narration compares birth and motherhood to the floodwaters, as well as using words associated with the sea for the development of her baby, one of them being the word “cruising”. The uncertainty of the floodwaters and the sea reflects the uncertainty of the mother and those she meets on her journey of survival. In between the mother’s narration, Hunter has inserted what seems to be quotes from the story of Noah’s Ark, almost completely parallel to the mother’s journey, the babies being brought up in the aftermath of the flood representing the renewal of the human race after Noah finds land.
I recommend this book to those who love poetic text, intertextuality, and the uncertain, free-floating images of water.
I read “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” for the first day of the 2019 Reading Rush, for the book to movie adaptation challenge. The short story is very different from the 2008 film, taking place from the late 19th century to the early 20th. The only thing that is the same is the fact that Benjamin Button ages backwards.
Because this book was written in 1922 and takes place first just before the American Civil War, there were some things I as a modern reader had to get used to, like the sort-of-subtle racism and antisemitism that were the norms at the time.
However, psychologically and socially this book was very interesting. First because the anti-aging of Benjamin Button was clearly inspired by the genetic disorder progeria, basically by which a person is born already aging, and these people generally do not live long. With Benjamin Button, though, his disorder or whatever it is also affects his personality, giving the reader a different perspective on the idea of growing up and coming of age.
One of the big social aspects in this story corresponds with how people even today treat mental illness, chronic illness, and simply illness in general. Most of those close to Benjamin Button blamed him for his disorder of aging backwards, claiming he was being stubborn in not stopping it, and having no consideration for anyone else in relation to it. Sound familiar? I wish I could say things have changed, but this is a very good representation of how people react to such things.
I thought this story gave an interesting social commentary on life in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and is worth a read even now. It’s no Great Gatsby, but “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” has a depth all its own.
This is a challenge taking place from July 22-28 wherein the participants must try to read as much as they can during that week. There are also challenges that the participants can follow, for example: read a book with a purple cover.
This challenge will be really great for me personally as it will help me knock some books off my tbr in a time when, because of grad school, my time for fun reading tends to be limited. This also means more book reviews! Yay!!
Check out my Reading Rush profile for the books I will be reading during that week, and look out for reviews of all of them!
And all of you, even if you are not in the Reading Rush, let me know what you are reading! I am always looking for new reads, AND I love to know what you all enjoy!
The past few years as a full-time classicist have seen a boom for me in the reading of modern retellings of classical myths and tales. Of all the ones I have read so far, Lavinia has been the best. Perhaps this is because this novel is based on the last six books of my favorite ancient work and author, the Aeneid by Vergil.
I was first told about this novel by my graduate advisor, with whom I am working on research about Vergil’s pastoral poetry. While Lavinia references the Aeneid and not Vergil’s other works, there are elements of contact with nature, which I will elaborate on below.
For those who don’t know, or have only a vague idea, Lavinia is the daughter of King Latinus, whom Aeneas married when he settled down in Latium, the area of Italy that would one day become Rome.
The first half of the book talks about Lavinia’s early life in the palace of her father. What I loved about this was that it illustrated the importance of her role in the palace as the virgin daughter of the king (religiously, etc.). It also touched on her connection to nature and certain higher powers such as oracles, and more importantly Vergil himself, the half-dead spirit of whom she communes with in sacred spaces of the woods. It is here where she learns the future of hers and Aeneas’ story. Le Guin gives us readers a look at how Vergil might have felt at not completing his story with Lavinia as a non-speaking character. I’d like to think he would have been as remorseful about this as Le Guin made him, how much he regretted not giving Lavinia a voice. Le Guin more than makes up for that in this novel. Lavinia speaks her mind to Vergil, to her father, to all those who would try to control her.
The latter half of the book looks at the war and then her marriage to Aeneas and life after. It illustrates what could have been, what Vergil could have written if he had the chance to continue. Le Guin makes Lavinia an immortal character, acknowledging the fact that because Vergil never gave her an ending, she cannot die in the same way as Aeneas or other heroes.
That is one other thing that Le Guin illustrates very well in this novel: the idea of living up to the standards of a legendary hero. We see Lavinia herself try to keep the house and rule of Aeneas alive through her resolve and the future of her son. Ascanius, Aeneas’ first son, does the same, but because Aeneas’ standards end up being so high, Ascanius is destined to fail as a ruler. Even if one doesn’t read this book, this is an obvious interpretation of Ascanius’ life.
To have one of my favorite stories be retold by a woman and through the eyes of a silenced woman is so refreshing and I could not ask for a better story. As a (still) young woman, I feel I can relate to Lavinia’s character, feeling uncertain about my own future among others whose futures are already set.
I recommend this novel to all classicists, lovers of myths and tales, and to those who are uncertain in life and want to run away into the woods to commune with spirits of dead poets.
I usually love myself some good, old-fashioned tales about witches. When reading the description and looking at the cover as I browsed the horror section at The Last Bookstore in LA, I thought Witches of Lychford by Paul Cornell would be right up my alley. I am disappointed to say that this novella did not at all meet my expectations, so much so that I really did not think the book was worth finishing.
Firstly, the style of writing was rather awful. Cornell has tried to make a book almost solely of the characters’ thoughts, and, in my opinion, putting too much effort into it. He also provides too much explanation of mundane things while failing to explain important points to the plot at large. It would have been helpful to know more background on the town of Lychford in the beginning, whereas it is hard to know what it’s all about until about page 80 (more than halfway through the book already!).
Secondly, the progression of the plot with the implied themes of the book did not match up. I stopped reading on page 90, and still there are no mention of witches, only implications. What there is are hints at other worlds, similar to fairy worlds one would see in books about the lore of England or Ireland. But the way it is presented by Cornell is all very random. All of a sudden things start happening with no history or indication of why it should be, other than vague experiences hinted at by the characters. That is the big trouble, this book is one big hint, which makes for rather un-compelling reading.
I would go into more detail, but I think that covers a lot of the reasons why I do not like this book. I do not recommend to anyone, unless you like big hints.