Review Haiku for Those with Short Attention Spans

I have been slaaaaaaaaaaacking on reviewing again, sorry about that.  Too many books (106 so far this year!) and if I reviewed them all, I’d have no time to read. SO!  You get a bunch of review haiku, this time without mini-reviews.  Because I’m feeling super lazy tonight.  SORRY!

Etgar Keret’s The Nimrod Flipout

Shortest shorts of all
Stories, I mean – not Nair legs
Fun funny sad weird

Philip K Dick’s In Milton Lumky Territory

PKD litfic
No aliens or mindfucks
ZEE OH EM GEE, RIGHT?

Harambee K Grey-Sun’s Broken Angels

Blah blah blah blah STOP
I actually rage quit
This book was so bad

Kim Harrison’s Ever After

It’s too late now, but
I’m going down with my ship
(Hint: It isn’t Trent)

Dakota Cassidy’s Accidentally Dead

Nine of ten women
Agreed that the word “vulva”
Does not get them hot.

Charlaine Harris’ Dead Ever After

You’re right, Ms Harris -
We all NEEDED to know what
Sookie had for lunch.

…aaaaaaaaaand, that’s all I can see unreviewed that I wasn’t planning on talking about in more depth at some point.

Don’t forget that the Order of the Phoenix drinkalong is coming up on Friday – Same BatTime, Same BatHashtag!  See you then!

“Words fell out of his mouth like cold pebbles.”

Sometimes, a book just screams, “AMY! PICK ME UP AND READ ME!”

This was one of those books. YA fantasy! Theater people! A fairy-tale aspect! Award-winning! Magic!

Sometimes, the books that have a long pedigree and sound absolutely perfect just leave me cold. It is a sad fact of life. Like pretty shoes that pinch, or cute puppies that bite your fingers.

Goblin Secrets (which won the National Book Award, so maybe it’s me that’s broken, I don’t know) is about an orphan named Rownie. He lives with a witch named Graba, who takes in orphans and uses them for her own twisted schemes. Graba has clockwork chicken-legs and can pick up her house and move it elsewhere when the need arises. (I was so pleased to see a Baba Yaga homage, as I certainly do love Baba Yaga stories.) Rownie is constantly on the lookout for his older brother, Rowan (Rownie doesn’t know his own name – his name is a diminutive of his brother’s) who was an actor in their town, Zombay, and has gone missing. See, in Zombay, acting is forbidden. Pretending to be someone other than who you are is not allowed.

One day, a troupe of goblin actors come to town, and Rownie is completely charmed by them – so much so that he joins their troupe. Only there are, as the title implies, goblin secrets. The goblins know more about Zombay than they’re letting on, and acting is more than just the putting on of masks. Why else would it be forbidden? And how much do the goblins know about Rowan? And will Graba just let Rownie go?

Sounds kind of…I don’t know, good, right? Compelling? Interesting?

And it was. Kind of. But only kind of.

It never made the leap from kind of to all-the-way. It was teetering on the edge of being awesome, on the edge of being something great, and it never quite made it. And I’m an easy sell! I’m completely the target market for things like this! I should have eaten this up with a spoon and a scoop of whipped cream on top, Alexander, so what happened?

In steampunk terminology, because this book, like so many others lately, felt the need to jump on the steampunk bandwagon – this book was a clockwork man, strutting around, looking really good on the outside, but without a heart. And without a heart, a clockwork man is all hollow inside. It’s all style and substance and no soul. And that’s sad, because it COULD have been great. The BONES of greatness were there. It just didn’t make it. And that’s why it’s sad, because lost potential is always sad, right? Having the ability to get there and then not quite make it? Depressing.

This is the first in a series, and I have no interest in continuing with the series, award-winning or not. The world is full of good books that live up to their potential, and I’ll keep reading until I find those, thanks.

“She Remembers the Screaming Trees…”

I need to start out with a caveat. The Liars’ Gospel  is not for everyone. I don’t recommend it if:

A) You can’t sit through the movie adaptation of a book without saying “Wait, that never happened. And they left out…”

B) You are a new Christian with a limited knowledge of the New Testament.

I received The Liars’ Gospel for free as an auto-approve from Net Galley. I have not been paid for this review, nor have I received in kind goods or services. Which is too bad because my back itches, and I really wish they had at least offered to scratch it. Or sent me some lotion. But I’m not in this for personal gain, so I press forward.

Let me give you some background about me. I’m a believer.  For those who haven’t clicked out of this window and run screaming down the road, I’ll clarify. I’m for this one:

Not this one:

Believer, not Beleiber. With me? Good. It will become important later.

The Liars’ Gospel is the fictional account of Jesus told from the perspectives of four people who encountered him. Allow me to be very clear here. This is not a Christian book. It is the story of Jesus, not the story of Christ. No one in this book, including the author, believes in the divinity of the man, Jesus of Nazareth. Someone new to the Christian faith could easily be knocked off track. Alderman does her research so thoroughly that it is easy to forget this is a work of fiction. She knows the New Testament very well, but she plays with it. She relays stories straight from scripture, but then she takes a bit of artistic license;  maybe she ends the story differently, or skips over what happened next completely. It’s scripturally based, but this book should never, ever be confused with scripture. The author clearly does not believe in the divinity of Jesus and does what she can to lead the reader to question it, as well.

And yet, The Liars’ Gospel is the best work of fiction I have read in 2013. I started reading it, and I could not put it down. The prose is haunting and cuts straight to the heart without sentimentality.  It is ironic that the two books that have most captured the cruelty and horror of Christ’s crucifixion are both secular works. The other one is Lamb by Christopher Moore. I won’t get off-topic here, but I may review it later.

Names of characters are written in their original Hebrew gives the book a ring of authenticity. Alderman has done her research on life in Jerusalem under Roman rule. The book is brutal, at times graphic, but never without reason. There’s nothing gratuitous in the descriptions of the capricious violence of soldiers and rebels alike. That’s how it was. The Romans invented the gladiator games, after all. They weren’t there to play a game of hopscotch with the Jews. Life was ugly. It was bloody. This story captures the terror and the rage, the heartache and loss. The author pulls no punches. And I am glad of it.

My one frustration as I read was that I kept looking for the author’s point, her real one, waited for her to tie it all together. I wondered if she would. The four sections seemed to stand alone with very little connection to one another except that they each related to the death of Jesus. I waited. And waited. I was preparing to put this book aside with a “Well, that’s a nice little collection of short stories,” and a shrug. Until the last page, a gut punch  that hit deep. Yeah, there’s a connection. I hated it. I am haunted by it. Storytelling doesn’t get much better than this. For me, that’s all it is; a story. But a powerful one. It made me think.

I don’t even need a rubric to know that this book is a solid 5/5 stars. Because I can’t stop talking about it. Because I can’t stop thinking about it.

Six Books I Will Never Read

You all know by now that Heather and I are reading ALL THE SK this year, and I’m in the process of finishing up Danse Macabre.  I posted a status update on it earlier, and a friend of mine that had just finished reading Laurell K Hamilton’s Danse Macabre asked me what I thought of it so far.

I answered without thinking, but then realized…HEY!  This isn’t the book she thinks it is!  So I told her which book I was ACTUALLY reading and then texted Heather saying “I’ll read almost anything, but I won’t read that.”  Which got me pondering…what ARE the books I know I’ll never ever read?  There’s a lot of pretty popular stuff on here, so at the risk of alienating – um, everyone – here are the first things that popped into my head.

1. The Lost Symbol – Dan Brown
   

   For some reason, this cover looks diiiiiiirty to me.

   I know, I know – it’s totes popular to hate on Dan Brown now.  I only read his first…oh, FFS, FOUR(?!) books because my dad made me.  We’d gone over to visit him when we only had one child still and this was before all of the world was super excited about The Da Vinci Code, he handed me a stack of books as I was walking in the door and said “You HAVE TO read these.  I need someone to talk about them with.”  Being the most amazing daughter that I am, I DID read them and then pretended like I hadn’t.  Or I pretended I thought they were better than they were.  Whatever I did, I didn’t want my dad to know that I thought he had the worst taste in the world, so I tried to let him down easily…but I kind of failed because he now knows better than to even bring up this man’s name in my presence.  Score one for sj.  Except, really – I lost.  Because I read those stupid books and that’s time I will NEVER HAVE BACK.  Shame on you, Dan Brown, for making people think you have talent when all you REALLY have is a world class PR machine.

2. The Night Circus – Erin Morgenstern
   

   This cover IS super pretty, I’ll give you that.

   Yeah, yeah, yeah – EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU has read and loved this or has plans to read this, but…I already know it’s not for me.  I don’t like circuses.  I don’t like romances.  I don’t like overly florid prose.  This has all of those.  I’ve read excerpts that brought on allergy attacks because they were so flowery.  No.  Thank.  You.

3. The Notebook – Nicholas Sparks
   

   This cover is just as boring as I imagine the book to be.

   A few years ago I had a job that really sucked.  My boss sucked and the job itself was pretty much the worst, but it was at a really rough time for us (I’d been let go from my previous GOOD job and pretty much had to take whatever so that we could afford rent, groceries, etc) so I was pretty much just lucky to have a job at all.  When I was hired, my boss was excited to learn that I loved to read.  I was excited to learn that SHE loved to read.  Until she started going on and on about the crap she read that I had ZERO interest in.  Nicholas Sparks was one of her favourite authors and she sent me home with…one of his books, I don’t even remember which.  Much like with my dad in the Dan Brown story above, I read it so that I could tell her I had, and politely declined her further offers of books.  I don’t give a shit that this movie spawned America’s love affair with Ryan Gosling, I really don’t.  I won’t ever read it, nor will I ever watch the movie.  ROMANCE, BLECH.

4. Gone Girl – Gillian Flynn
   

   If I read the book, would this make sense?

   I don’t caaaaaaare that everyone read and loved this book last year, I really don’t.  I read the synopsis, I read ALL THE REVIEWS (no, seriously – I read so many reviews of this book last year I kind of want to vomit just thinking about it), I even read the first few pages…nope, not for me.  At all.  I’m glad you all found something you could bond over last year, but this is a club I won’t be joining.  Sorry.  Maybe next time (except I know there won’t be a next time).

5. My Sister’s Keeper – Jodi Picoult
   

   This one also makes me uncomfortable.

   Gahhhh, Jodi Picoult is another author that the aforementioned terrible boss was in love with.  I read one of her books and was pissed at the blatant attempt to manipulate my emotions.  Horrible Situations + Clichés ≠ Good Storytelling.  This is another author that I know many of you enjoy and I’m really sorry if this hurts your feelings, but ZOMG I DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW THIS IS SO EFFING POPULAR.  Like, at all.  Ugh.

6. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest – Ken Kesey
   

   I actually kind of love this. I approve.

   I’ll admit it.  Having this book on here kind of makes me feel like an asshole.  Because it’s not so much anything that I have against the book or the author, it’s the personal associations I have with the book itself that make me sure I’ll never ever read it.  Have you ever had a friend that was just the bestest friend ever?  And then had that relationship fall apart in such a way that you never wanted anything to do with anything that even REMINDED you of that person ever again?  That’s what this book is for me.  This book is a painful reminder of a failed friendship, and for that reason I know I won’t ever pick it up.

So, there you have it.  Six books I’m 100% certain I will never in this life pick up.  What are the books you know you’ll never read?  What are the things you’re always saying “Oh, I’ll get around to that someday,” but that you actually know you never will?

Am I alone, here?  You’re not going to convince me to pick any of these up, but if you’d like to try you can go right ahead in the comments.

“I’m dying! I’m dying, look at me! It’s killed me!”

I thought I’d started this post, like, a month ago.  Either I never got around to it (which is HIGHLY LIKELY) or it was deleted through blog chicanery (which I’m not entirely willing to discount).  Regardless, I figured that since we’re watching Prisoner of Azkaban this Friday, I should write this post before I’m all frothy about the movie instead of the book, right?  Right.

I realized when I sat down to compose this tonight (or last night [or last WEEK], depending on when you’re reading) that even though I think I’m the BEST at taking notes when I’m reading, I’m really not.  Because I end up highlighting things without making notes for myself or making notes that really don’t make any sense a month later, since I’m no longer in the same state I was when I originally wrote them.

That makes this post difficult to write.  LUCKILY I have a rum-based cocktail sitting next to me, and a willingness to not make a whole lot of sense/piss people off with half-thought out rantings.

For a long time, Prisoner of Azkaban was my favourite Harry Potter book.  I liked the first one, was kind of annoyed by the second one, then this one BLEW ME THE SNAPE AWAY!

Unfortunately it was followed by GoF, but I’ll be talking about that when I get there.

I was kind of worried about re-reading it this time cos I’ve been noticing all the little things that make me want to smack things during this re-read, but there was little that I found crotch punch worthy in this one.  In fact, there was a lot that I found just as delightful as I did the first time I read it (and the 20 subsequent reads [don't you judge me]).

Things I looooooooove:

• That bit up there in the title.  TAKE THAT, MALFOY!
  
  
• “Potter, you can skin Malfoy’s shrivelfig.”  TOTALLY A EUPHEMISM!  Now I know where the Draco/Harry shippers were coming from.
• Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.  Not gonna lie, guys.  I’ve read more than my share of WolfStar fanfic.  …and now I’ve mentioned slash twice as my reasons for liking this book.  LET’S MOVE ON!
• There’s a good deal of mystery and just general decent worldbuilding that goes on in this one.
• Oh, and this:
  
• This book gave us the opportunity to make this:

Now that I’ve reached my gif limit for the WHOLE YEAR, I get to rant about some of the things that REALLY REALLY BUG ME.

1. Dementors.  Specifically, how they speak.  Their mouths are “gaping shapeless holes” and they don’t seem to have a way to talk, so how are they notifying Fudge that Sirius is talking in his sleep?  And how does Dumbledore know that they’re all pissed at him for not letting them onto the grounds?  This is very strange to me and I find it bothersome.
2. WHY THE HELL WOULD FUDGE AND HAGRID AND MINERVA ALL TALK TO ROSMERTA LIKE THERE WERE NO KIDS PRESENT?!  And after 12 years, how is this gossip still juicy?  Surely people knew all about Sirius Black being their secret keeper?HOW IS THIS NEWS?!
3. Draco doesn’t speak.  He drawls. Everything.  I associate a drawl with people from the US South, so this led to some interesting scenes in my head.
4. Crookshanks placed the order for the Firebolt for Sirius.  He used Harry’s name, but had them “take the gold from Gringotts vault number seven hundred and eleven -” which is his own vault.  HOW DID NO ONE NOTICE DRAWS ON THE ACCOUNT OF A FUGITIVE?  And why weren’t his assets frozen or whatever while he was in Azkaban?  Em?  Can you help with this one?
5. The night of the End of Year Feast, we learn how many NEWTs Percy got and that Fred and George “scraped a handful of OWLs each.”  Why, then, are our trio forced to wait until the summer after their fifth year before they found out how they did on their OWLs?

[sigh]

…but whatever, you know?  I still think this book is pretty great, and even though I can’t think about the above things too much (or the fact that its implied that medieval wizards and witches allowed muggles to be burnt at the stake, while saving themselves) because they make me more than slightly ragey – I will read this one again without TOO MUCH eyerolling.

Bring on Goblet of Fire.