Supernatural 13×16 Review (Scoobynatural)

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I have to caveat this review by saying that I never watched Scooby Doo (cartoons generally creep me out). So I watched “Scoobynatural” with only general Scooby Doo knowledge. Also, several moments that were presumably intended to be comedic vaguely disturbed me (Dean unhinging his jaw to eat that humungous sandwich was nearly as bad as the dismembered corpse). Despite that, I liked episode, but I wasn’t the ideal audience for it.

The episode starts out with Dean wrestling a giant stuffed dinosaur, because of course it does. He and Sam defeat it, much to the relief and gratitude of the storeowner it was menacing. After making a lame excuse about why there are dinosaur parts all over the floor to the suspicious real estate developer from next door…

SAM: Sometimes the batteries in these giant stuffed dinosaurs just explode.

…the boys leave with the giant flatscreen TV they received as a thank you.

Unfortunately, the TV is haunted. It sucks Sam and Dean into a cartoon, which alarms them. At first they try to figure out what happened, but eventually they shrug it off since it’s not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to them. It’s not even the first time they’ve been sucked into a TV world. Dean suggests that it might even be the same culprit, the Trickster.

SAM: No, he’s dead.

DEAN: Or is he?

The Hate U Give (Book Review)

I read Angie Thomas’ novel The Hate U Give for the first time last year based on John Green endorsement. I loved it. I was impressed enough that I picked it for my YA book club. I’m really glad I did. It absolutely stands up to a reread, and there is a lot in it for discussion.

What’s it about?

The novel follows 16-year-old Starr Carter, who witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood friend Khalil at the hands of a white police officer. In the weeks that follow, Starr finds herself at the center of a battle for justice. For Starr, though, nothing is black and white. She has to figure out how to use her voice as a weapon. She has to figure out how to balance her home life in the ghetto with her school life at a white prep school. She has to traverse the usual plights of adolescence—romantic trouble, strict parents, school dances, etc.—with the added pressures of gang violence, casual racism, and the expectation that she become the voice of a movement.

Yes, The Hate U Give is about racism and police brutality.

When people talk about The Hate U Give, they often focus on how important it is. Admittedly, that’s where I start too. Thomas handles the timely issue of racism and police brutality with a firm but nuanced hand. She directly addresses many of the common arguments against Black Lives Matter (or the existence of institutionalized racism) by explaining that it is possible to do or say something racist without being racist or by specifying that by protesting police brutality people are not condemning good police officers. If you’ve heard the argument, Thomas probably addresses it at least in passing.

Thomas acknowledges the gray in this issue. She does not shy away from difficult aspects that complicate her story. Khalil is a drug dealer. Starr’s father used to be in a gang. Black protesters start violent riots. Starr and her half-brother Seven start a fistfight at school. Seven’s stepfather is a horrible gang leader. Starr’s white boyfriend is sympathetic to Starr but doesn’t understand her circumstances. Starr’s (black) uncle is a policeman who worked with the officer who shot Khalil. There is no firm line between black and white or good and bad or even between racist and not racist. It is all balanced beautifully.

There’s a stupid, unspoken rule that there’s a certain type of default character is easier to relate to (straight white cis middle-class able-bodied male, for the most part) and Starr proves that black characters can be just as relatable and compelling as white ones; it’s the skill of the writer, not the color of the character that determines whether or not the reader can understand and empathize. The fact of the matter is that black protagonists have stories that are just as absorbing as those of white protagonists, but they are in many cases different stories. Starr’s story could not be the story of a white girl. I’m always up for more stories, and it is stupid that there are so many stories that aren’t being told.

Seriously, I’m trying to think of books that have primarily non-white characters. I can think of a few, but not many. There are POC side character in most novels nowadays, but leads tend to be white, and if they’re not, they’re often surrounded by white characters. The point is… it is refreshing to read a book that isn’t super white, and I’m saying that as a white person. I don’t have to worry about representation

No, The Hate U Give is not only about racism and police brutality.

Okay, okay, you may be saying. It’s an important book. For black readers it is good representation. For white readers it gives an example of the black experience. But is it a good book?

Yes. No one cares if a book is important if it isn’t also good.

Starr’s voice is authentic. She is a very real character. She is a very modern heroine: she loves Harry Potter and sings High School Musical songs and wastes time reblogging memes on Tumblr. She plays basketball and obsesses over cool shoes. She doubts herself and worries about her place in the world. She worries about being cool and how her peers will see her. She has survivor’s guilt. She has to be pushed into using her voice for good. It is easy to love Starr, easy to relate to her, and easy to empathize with her.

The other characters are equally well-written. Thomas focused wonderfully on Starr’s family. I love it when fictional families get weighty stories and emphasized relationships. Starr’s relationships with her parents and siblings capture what it means to be a family: they love each other, they’re there for each other, but sometimes they give each other a hard time. Her whole community is excellent. Even the awful people, like the head gangster King, are great characters.

One might argue that eventually The Hate U Give will seem dated: it makes references to current pop culture and technology. Starr is very plugged into the modern world. However, I think that in some ways what might be a weakness in another novel is a strength for this one; The Hate U Give is about a very specific moment/movement and the fact that it is tied so closely to the present day forces readers to acknowledge if not act on the fact that this is the reality now. Maybe in a few decades this will be one of the books people read to see what life was like in 2017. Who knows?

What’s the verdict?

I would recommend this novel to anyone, even people who don’t usually read YA. It is an example of everything that is good in YA: the writing, the emotion, the characters, the diversity, and the heart. The story is at times funny, exciting, heartbreaking, and frustrating but it is always compelling. This is not an easy book to put down, and it is not easy to forget. It is a timely social commentary, but more than that it is a tightly-written novel filled with three-dimensional characters and snappy dialogue. I’m absolutely blown away that it is a debut novel. Report card: A

Mr. Rochester (Book Review)

Charlotte Brönte’s Jane Eyre has been one of my favorite books for a long time. It has mystery, romance, humor, adventure, and even some magic (or, at least, magical realism). For me, Jane Eyre is the ideal classic: exciting and fun enough to be read the way any contemporary novel is read, but with enough literary merit to write a term paper on (which I did, by the way; I celebrated my love of Jane Eyre by writing the final research paper of my college career about it). The point is, I love Jane Eyre. I love the good film adaptation (the one with Ruth Wilson and Toby Stephens) and tolerate the bad one (the one with Mia Wasikowska and Michael Fassbender).

Seriously, this is the one to watch. 

I read Mr. Rochester by Sarah Shoemaker because my library lost Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys, the Jane-Eyre-inspired novel I actually wanted to read. I did not love it. I did not like it. I found it boring and pointless and honestly can’t figure out why it was written.

What’s it about?

The novel follows Brönte’s mysterious, brooding hero. It starts with his childhood, recounts his marriage to the madwoman Bertha Mason, and then duplicates the events of the original from the hero’s perspective, rather than that of the heroine.

What’s wrong with it?

My main complaint with the novel is that at no point did Shoemaker’s Rochester feel like Brönte’s Rochester. In a few passages, Shoemaker takes dialogue directly from the original novel, and the difference is jarring; it highlights the overall difference between the two writers. It’s possible that Shoemaker’s writing is perfectly fine, but I didn’t care for it. It is likely that I didn’t care for it because of how much I love Jane Eyre, but who knows?

I also didn’t get the impression that Shoemaker tried particularly hard to understand her main character. Instead of giving insight into Rochester, she would often explain his odd behavior by having him say something to the effect of, “I don’t know why I did that.” If she had to resort to that so many times, why bother writing this book at all? She removed the mystery from Rochester and replaced it with indecision and self-pity, which wouldn’t have been my first choice of personality traits.

The pacing is also bizarre. The sections that, in my opinion, should have been abbreviated (like Rochester’s time at a weird school where he learned military strategy) were very long and detailed; others that might have really fleshed out the character (like the self-destructive tour of Europe that resulted in Adéle’s adoption and Rochester’s despair after Jane flees Thornfield) were sprinted through at breakneck speed. I got the impression that Sheomaker would have been far happier writing her own story, a story about Touch and Carrot and running a mill and fending off potentially illegitimate heirs of disgraced brothers.

Speaking of that… that subplot with Gerald was so ridiculous. I don’t want to get into it because to do so would be to spoil the novel, but I will say that it felt badly out of place. I understand wanting a storyline that hasn’t been spoiled by Jane Eyre, but I would rather have had no surprises and stronger focus on characterization.

Instead, Shoemaker rushes through all the events that occurred in the original novel. The novel is 450 pages, but Jane is present for far fewer than half of them; her scenes with Rochester are basically paraphrases of Brönte. Even when Shoemaker does devote adequate pagetime to a storyline, she doesn’t add anything new. She contributed nothing to what readers already know about Rochester’s marriage to Bertha. In her hands, it is basically just Rochester being sad for a while, reflecting on how dark and enclosed spaces are best for Bertha, and then refusing to have sex with her despite her profane and vulgar demands.

What’s the verdict?

On the whole, I think Shoemaker would have been better served writing her own original story. At no point in Mr. Rochester did I feel that I was gaining insight to Jane Eyre. In my opinion, Shoemaker seemed only passingly interested in her source material. The biggest issue with Mr. Rochester is what I call Cursed Child Syndrome (named for the ill-advised Harry Potter play): its existence and storyline depend entirely on the existence of the original work, but that dependence forces comparisons which can only be immensely unfavorable. Report card: D

 

 

Book Club: The Book Thief

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak is legitimately one of the best books I’ve ever read. If you’d rather read a glowing, non-spoilery review, go here. If you’re here for discussion, read on.

1. The Book Thief is notable for its unique narration. Discuss Death’s POV and how it impacts your reading of Liesel’s story. What kind of a narrator is Death? Does Zusak’s Death behave in the ways you would expect an incarnation of Death to act? Discuss the casual breaking of the fourth wall, the occasional asides with extra information and commentary, and the reflection on what death is. Consider the following passages:
   1. “I urge you—don’t be afraid. I’m nothing if not fair.” (3)
   2. “I am all bluster— I am not violent. I am not malicious. I am a result.” (6)
   3. “(By the way—I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.” (75)
   4. “I do not carry a sickle or scythe. I only wear a hooded black robe when it’s cold. And I don’t’ have those skull-like facial features you seem to enjoy pinning on me from a distance. You want to know what I truly look like? I’ll help you out. Find yourself a mirror while I continue” (307).
   5. “I’ve seen so many young men over the years who think they’re running at other young men. They are not. They’re running at me.” (174-175)
   6. “They say that war is death’s best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thing, incessantly: ‘Get it done, get it done.’ So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss, however, does not thank you. He asks for more.” (309)
   7. “I say His name in a futile attempt to understand. ‘But it’s not your job to understand.’ That’s me who answers. God never says anything. You think you’re the only one he never answers?” (350)
2. Discuss in more detail Death’s direct address to the audience and its personal responses to the people in Liesel’s story. Did you find that your emotional responses tended to match Death’s? How did the constant presence of death prepare you for the mass carnage at the end of the novel? Were you prepared? Did Death’s spoiling of the final scenes ruin the surprise or build your anticipation? Why do you think Zusak chose to reveal the events of his climax so far in advance (ie. The first commentary on Rudy’s death comes on page 241; he does not die until page 531)? Why do you think that Death chose to focus specifically on Rudy’s death in the pages leading up to the bombing, rather than Hans’ or Rosa’s? Did knowing Rudy would die make you more confident about Hans and Rosa’s survival? Why do you think Death offered so many scenarios that might have changed certain’ outcomes (ie. pg. 411: “If he’d intervened it might have changed everything. […] And just maybe, [Rudy] would have lived.”).
   1. Discuss: “Of course, I’m being rude. I’m spoiling the ending, not only of the entire book, but of this particular piece of it. I have given you two events in advance, because I don’t have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It’s the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me. There are so many things to think of. There is so much story” (243)
3. Liesel is known as “the book thief,” and the nickname also serves as the book’s title. Why is Liesel’s thievery important enough for this place of honor? Discuss the role of books and words in the novel as a whole. How do words change Liesel’s life? By facilitating her relationships with Hans, Max, and Ilsa? By drawing Death to her story? In the face of death and war, how powerful are words? Discuss the fact that Liesel’s life is literally saved by her writing. Is it significant that Liesel was essentially illiterate at the beginning of the novel when she started stealing the books? Also consider the fact that Hitler was able to rise to power because of his skill as a speaker, rather than through any physical advantage. Discuss the following quotes:
   1. In his story The Work Shaker, Max writes: “Yes, the Führer decided that he would rule the world with words. ‘I will never fire a gun,’ he devised. ‘I will not have to.’ Still, he was not rash. Let’s allow him at least that much. He was not a stupid man at all. His first plan of attack was to plant the words in as many areas of his homeland as possible. He planted them day and night, and cultivated them. He watched them grow, until eventually great forests of words had risen throughout Germany… It was a nation of farmed thoughts” (445).
      1. In what ways are controlled thoughts dangerous? Is it more dangerous to control someone’s thoughts/words or to control their actions/bodies? Discuss the book burning in the novel. Why do regimes like the Nazis have to police books? Why and how are words dangerous?
   2. “The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn’t be any of this. Without words, the Führer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or worldly tricks to make us feel better. What good were the words? She said it audibly now, to the orange-lit room. ‘What good are the words?’” (521).
   3. The last line that Liesel writes in her story, which is emphasized by Death in an aside, is “I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right” (528).
4. What does the novel have to say about human nature? As a nonhuman entity, Death reflects periodically on humanity from the outside, often entranced, often repelled, and often confused. Death remarks that “I’m always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both” (491). In what ways does death bring out the best (or the worst) in the characters who die? What about the ones who survive? Based on Death’s remarks, which is more horrible: to die or to survive? Consider Death’s need to distract itself from survivors: “… now and then, I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs” (5). Discuss the way that death affects survivors like Liesel, Ilsa Hermann, and Frau Holtzapfel. Consider Death’s assessment after the Himmel St. bombing: “There was no recovery from what had happened. That would take decades; it would take a long life” (546). Consider Max’s guilt after he leaves his family in order to be hidden: “Living was living. The price was guilt and shame” (208).
   1. War causes many contradictions. Death, as quoted above, has a hard time understanding how humans can be “both.” Discuss the moral contradictions in the novel. How can a Nazi be “kindly” and “chirpy?” (343). How can a kind action, like giving bread to the starving Jews, be a terrible mistake? How can kind men like Hans Hubermann and Alex Steiner be members of the Nazi party? How can childhood cruelty be considered “appropriate” and “require[d]?” (53). Consider the moral quandary of Alex Steiner: He is a Nazi despite not hating Jews or anyone else and “Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out” (60). When the Germans are hiding in terror during the air raid, Death ponders: “Did they deserve any better, these people? How many had actively persecuted others, high on the scent of Hitler’s gaze, repeating his sentences, his paragraphs, his opus? Was Rosa Hubermann responsible? The hider of a Jew? Or Hans? Did they all deserve to die? The children? The answer to each of these questions interests me very much, though I cannot allow them to seduce me” (375-376). Who deserves a fate like the one that ultimately befalls the citizens of Himmel St.? What does it mean to be good? What does it mean to be bad? At what point can a line be drawn?
   2. Discuss the last line of the novel: “***A LAST NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR*** I am haunted by humans” (550). Why did Zusak choose this for the final line? Why is Death haunted by humans, and what does he mean by that? Why is this an appropriate note to leave a novel like The Book Thief on?
5. Discuss Hans Hubermann as a character. He is described as someone who is “able to appear as merely part of the background, even if he was standing at the front of a line. He was always just there. Not noticeable. Not important or particularly valuable. The frustration of that appearance, as you can imagine, was its complete misleadence, let’s say. There most definitely was value in him, and it did not go unnoticed by Liesel Meminger” (34). In what ways is this an apt description of Hans? Why does Liesel warm so immediately to Hans? What motivates Hans? Discuss the times he cheated death, his skill as a painter, the flaws that enhance his accordion playing, and his immediate agreement to take Max in. Be sure to discuss Hans’ moments of harshness as well as those of his gentleness, such as when he slapped Liesel to keep her from announcing her hatred of Hitler and when he frightened Liesel to ensure she kept Max a secret (116, 204).
6. Discuss Rudy Steiner as a character. What is his relationship with Liesel? How did they become friends? Discuss his growth from a young thief to a giver of bread: “How things had changed, from fruit stealer to bread giver. His blond hair, although darkening, was like a candle. She heard his stomach growl—and he was giving people bread” (440). Discuss the romantic undertone to Rudy and Liesel’s mostly innocent relationship; when did Rudy begin to see Liesel that way? When did Liesel begin to see Rudy that way? Consider the kiss that Rudy is always asking for but which Liesel does not give him until after his death. Why do you think Zusak chose Rudy’s death to emphasize? Discuss Death’s regret over Rudy (pg. 241: “He didn’t deserve to die the way he did”) and his urging Liesel to kiss him while she had the chance (pg. 454: “Kiss him, Liesel, kiss him”). At the end, Death says of Rudy, “He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry” (531). Why does Rudy affect Death in ways that others don’t? Also be sure to discuss the Jesse Owens Incident, Rudy’s extraordinary intelligence and athleticism that caught the attention of the Nazi higher-ups, and his childish insolence and feud with his Hitler Youth teacher.
7. Discuss Rosa Hubermann as a character. What was your first impression of her? Did it change as you got to know her better? Why do you think Rosa favors such aggressive language? Discuss the way that Liesel (and Rudy) eventually adopts Rosa’s profanity, and the way that it morphs into a term of affection. Discuss Rosa’s immediate acceptance of Max despite the danger he poses; unlike Hans, Rosa has no connection to Max’s family. Compare and contrast Rosa with Hans. In what ways are they a good team? Discuss Rosa’s quiet moments of grief with the accordion when Hans is at war. Also consider Rosa’s relationship with Liesel. Would you consider it to be a less important relationship than the one between Liesel and Hans? Just different? Defend your response. What do you make of the fact that it is Rosa, not Hans, who first insists that Liesel use the words ‘Mama’ and ‘Papa?’
8. Max and Liesel are paralleled on several occasions, and at the end of the novel they are the only two major characters left alive. Why do you think Zusak chose to make them so similar? Consider that both fought often as children, both were separated from war-torn families and sent to live with the Hubermanns, both wrote stories about their own experiences, and both were saved by chance. They constantly come together and are separated: after Max leaves the Hubermanns’, Liesel sees him once in a parade of Jews, and the two of them eventually reunite after everyone else is dead. Discuss Max’s central position of importance in the novel despite his relatively limited amount of pagetime (he does not appear until page 138, does not enter the main story until 168, leaves on 398, and barring a small reappearance from 509-514 and a triumphant return on 548, disappears physically from the narrative). Discuss the love between Max, Liesel, and the Hubermanns. At what point do you think that Max became a part of the family rather than a burden? What benefits did Max bring to the family and vice versa?
9. Discuss the novel’s depiction of WWII and Nazi Germany. Why do you think that Zusak decided to center his novel around a young German girl who by and large is accepted by the higher powers, rather than a traditional victim of the Nazi violence? Jews (pg. 161: “anything was better than being a Jew”), Communists (Liesel’s father was taken away for being one), and black people (pg. 56: “Talk that [Jesse Owens] was subhuman because he was black and Hitler’s refusal to shake his hand were touted around the world”) are singled out for discrimination, but Liesel is none of these things. Despite this, she is still a victim of Hitler and WWII. Discuss Liesel’s upbringing; what is normal for her? Is it jarring for you to read about a protagonist whose friends and neighbors are members of the Nazi Party, who is a member of Hitler Youth, and who Heil Hitler!s on the regular? Why or why not?
10. Discuss Liesel’s relationship with the mayor’s wife. Why does Ilsa take an interest in Liesel? Why do they fall out? Why is Liesel initially more comfortable stealing books from Ilsa than accepting them as gifts? Why do you think that Ilsa left her window open intentionally for Liesel? What does she gain from the relationship? Why does Liesel allow Rudy to think that she is stealing from Ilsa rather than admit the truth of the situation? Also discuss Ilsa as an individual. What has made her the way that she is?
11. What drew Death specifically to Liesel? Is her story typical of the era, or was she particularly noteworthy for some reason? Why do you think that Liesel was able to pull Death away from the distractions it clings so desperately to?
12. Discuss the way that the narrative bounces from one character to another. Although most of the novel centers around Liesel, some chapters bounce to other characters (Max, Rudy, and Hans all have significant moments for which Liesel is not present). Why were these scenes necessary for the novel as a whole?
13. Discuss Hans’ history with Erik Vanderburg. Erik indirectly saved Hans’ life, and as a result Hans hid Max. Was this an equal trade? Was Hans obligated to help Max because of Erik? Do you think that Hans would have helped Max even if he had not been indebted to Max’s father?
14. Discuss the role of fate and chance in the novel. Hans cheated death twice; the second time is entirely coincidental: a man dislikes Hans so he kicks him out of his usual seat and ends up dying because of it. Death says, “It kills me sometimes, how people die” (464). Sometimes, events that seem like blessings (Rudy not being sent away, Hans returning home from war) eventually prove to be curses. Death says, “You save someone. You kill them. How was he supposed to know?” (547). It is impossible to tell what actions will have what responses. Discuss.
15. Discuss the community on Himmel St. What are the dynamics like? What roles do the different characters play? Discuss the group of young thieves, the persistent soccer games, and the relationships formed while on the laundry runs. Discuss how the dynamics change when everyone retreats to the basements to hide. How does Max play into all of this? How does his presence in the Hubermann household change the way that Liesel, Hans, and Rosa interact with the rest of society?

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Crooked Kingdom (Book Review)

Thankfully I didn’t have to wait too long to read Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo, the sequel to the amazing Six of Crows. I sprinted through it. Like Six of Crows, it is pretty much impossible to put down. It’s pretty lengthy, but it really didn’t feel long, since I was so excited to read it. Also, I accidentally read a half-spoiler that made me very anxious because I just had to know, which kept me reading well past when I should have been asleep.

What’s it about?

Crooked Kingdom picks up right where the last book ends: Inej has been taken prisoner by the villainous Jan Van Eck. Kaz is desperate to get her back (though of course he would never admit that) and generally pissed off because he expected to be super rich by this point. Being Kaz, he busies himself making plan after plan to make all his enemies pay and while also making himself prosperous. These plans for the most part include continuing to hide Kuwei Yul-Bo, the son of Bo Yul-Bayor (the man who created jurda parem), who is of great interest to pretty much everyone but who could become very dangerous in the wrong hands. At the same time, the other members of Kaz’s squad have their own issues to deal with: Jesper has to confront gambling away his father’s farm, Matthias grapples with his changed loyalty, Nina fights the jurda parem, and Wylan—still stuck with Kuwei’s face—struggles to find his place in the criminal underworld.

What’d I think?

Now that I’ve finished the series I can say confidently that all the hype is completely earned. At risk of having an overly long section with unorganized gushing, I’ll break it down a little more than usual.

The characters are awesome.

I wrote in my Six of Crows review that I adored the characters, and that is still true. They are all just as lovable as they were in book one. Wylan is somehow even more adorable in book two. I wouldn’t have thought that would be possible, but here we are.

I love that Bardugo doesn’t shy away from moral ambiguity. Kaz is a seriously messed up guy. He does some really violent things in this book (that eyeball scene… yikes!) but he’s still fascinating and multi-faceted, so while it is sometimes hard to root from him from a moral standpoint… it is a lot of fun to watch him run circles around his enemies. Speaking of that… I actually really buy that Kaz is a genius. He is always so far ahead that I was continually guessing what he’d do next and being completely wrong. Some badly written smart characters only seem smart because the rest of the characters are dumb, but that’s not the case with Kaz. There aren’t any idiots, but despite that Kaz is way ahead of everyone.

I have to give a shoutout to the storyline with Jesper’s father. Colm Fahey is that rare fictional father who is both a decent person and a complex character in his own right, and his relationship with his son is a highlight. Jesper’s character development is even more on point in Crooked Kingdom than it was in Six of Crows. He is goofy and flirty but there’s more going on with him than just that, and Colm’s presence does a lot to pull that out. In my opinion, the best characters are the ones who seem cocky and carefree on the outside but which have a lot of masked hurt underneath. Jesper is a masterclass in that sort of writing. He’s easy to love just for what you see on the surface, but the mix of shame and regret and desire and love underneath is what makes him truly excellent.

Wylan is perfect. He is adorable and somehow both sincere and snarky. Like everyone else, he has strong development. I love that he gets POV chapters here, and they’re some of the best; Wylan is particularly interested in contrast to the other crows, because he’s softer and more moral than the others—in large part, perhaps, because he had more opportunity to grow up before seeing the ugliness of the world—but equally capable of ruthlessness when it’s called for. He’s just brilliant. Like Jesper, he’s very easily one of my favorite characters not only from this duology, but in general.

I preferred Inej in book one, but she isn’t bad or boring in Crooked Kingdom. She put me through the ringer this time, though! The number of times I turned the page terrified she’d turn up dead on the next one… yikes.

I liked Nina better this time around. In Crooked Kingdom, she is more interesting because she spends less time romancing Matthias and more time dealing with the aftereffects of the drug. Also, there was more emphasis on her friendship with Inej, which I really liked. She still did flirt with Matthias, so if you ship that you’re still good to go, but that was the one romance I never got at all invested in. For some reason I never felt anything more than ‘meh’ for Matthias. There’s nothing wrong with him, exactly. I was just never invested in him as an individual, so I wasn’t ever invested in Nina/Matthias. This leads me to my next point…

The romances are done well.

Truly Devious (Book Review)

I haven’t read a lot of Maureen Johnson, but I have liked what I have read, so I’d been considering picking Truly Devious up for a while. I almost bought it several times, but eventually ended up finding it at the library. It is one of those books that I enjoyed while I was reading it, for the most part, but once I finished… my feelings are really mixed. I liked it, but I’m glad it was a rental.

What’s it about?

Truly Devious is the first novel of a planned murder mystery trilogy. It follows true-crime aficionado Stevie Bell, who attends the famous Ellingham Academy in the hopes of solving the kidnapping/murder cold case that stains the otherwise illustrious high school’s history. Stevie has always thought of herself as a Sherlock-Holmes-in-training; she knows the details of the Ellingham case back to front and she is convinced that she’ll be able to crack it despite the fact that no one has managed it. Things get even more interesting when one of Stevie’s classmates winds up dead. Is it an accident, or is it somehow related to the decades-old murders and the still-unidentified “Truly Devious?”

What’d I think?

It often takes me kind of a while to get into new books, and that was certainly the case with Truly Devious. I did not really get the story until the present-day death. Once that happened, I was onboard; until that point I found the story slow and the characters mostly uninspiring. There were some characterizations that I enjoyed, but this is a murder mystery. The main draw is the plot. Good characters are a plus for a mystery, but they’re not entirely necessary (seriously; in most mysteries, the main detective is distinctive but the rest of the cast is largely forgettable). That being said, I did really like Nate’s eternal writing crisis and reservoir of Tolkien references. I thought the other characters were a little underdeveloped, though: Ellie is an Artist™, Hayes is an actor, Janelle is a lesbian engineer, and David is the kind of bad boy that fictional girls swoon for but I 100% don’t get.

That being said, I did get really wrapped up in the mystery. I liked the way Johnson alternated between the cold case and the fresh one, letting her readers guess exactly how connected they are. It especially helped to prop up slower sections. While one mystery is dealing with the mundane the other speeds up and vice versa.

Weirdly, despite liking the book more once the current murder happened, I actually preferred the old case. There are more clues and the whole situation is more tangled; I had fun sorting through the police transcripts and trying to figure out what happened.

This takes me to the main thing that I didn’t like about Truly Devious.

What didn’t I like?

How spoilery this is depends on your definition of “spoilers.” I DO NOT say anything about who kills or who the murder is or anything like that, but I do talk about the end in general terms. So… read on at your own risk.

About ¾ of the way through, I became alarmingly aware that Truly Devious is proudly touted as “the first novel in a murder-mystery trilogy,” which made me realize that mysteries are generally stand-alone novels. The same detective might pop up in several works, but the mysteries don’t stretch over multiple volumes. There’s a reason for that. I was engaged in Truly Devious‘ mysteries, but the farther into the novel I got the more I realized that they weren’t going to be wrapped up to my satisfaction. The present day mystery is kind of solved, but only in part; Stevie admits that her solution doesn’t entirely explain everything. The old case is hardly any closer to conclusion. There are tons of dangling clues and hardly any closure.

Right now? I want to know how the story ends. Next year, when the next book comes out? I doubt it. I liked Truly Devious, but not enough to retain specific details until the next book comes out, whenever that might be. Probably not enough to reread it when the time comes, but we’ll see.

What’s the verdict?

I liked Truly Devious. It is very readable. It goes quickly. It has some likable characters and two compelling characters. The only problem is that the story as it stands is glaringly incomplete. There is a lot more to it, a lot more that isn’t available yet. I would recommend this book, probably. But not now. Unless you’re a huge Maureen Johnson fan, I’d suggest waiting on this one until the sequels are published, so you can get a satisfying conclusion without frustrating breaks in the middle.

Report card.

Writing: A          Characters: B             Plot: A-                                                             Themes; C                    Fun: B                   Final: B

 

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The Book Thief (Book Review)

I was excited to reread The Book Thief by Markus Zusak because I remembered it being phenomenal. Somehow, it was even better than I remembered. My mind is blown by the fact that it is a Michael L. Printz Honor Book. That means something actually beat it. Apparently other honor books from that year (2007) were John Green’s An Abundance of Katherines (which I love, though The Book Thief is better) and M.T. Anderson’s The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation Vol. 1: the Pox Party (which I absolutely hated). A book I’ve never heard of, American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang, beat them. Even though I have admittedly never read it, I have to say… I have a hard time believing it can be better than The Book Thief.

What’s it about?

Narrated by Death, The Book Thief follows Liesel Meminger, a young girl growing up in Nazi Germany. Death first catches sight of Liesel when her brother dies on their way to their foster family; it is also the night Liesel steals her first book. Even though the years of Liesel’s youth are busy for Death, he takes a particular interest in her and the other people who inhabit her story: Liesel’s Papa Hans Hubermann, the kind-eyed painter; Hans’ wife, the sharp-tongued Rosa; the mischievous and gifted young Rudy Steiner who becomes Liesel’s best friend; and Max Vandeburg, the Jewish German who hides in the Hubermanns’ basement. It is a story about war, death, words, family, love, and what it means to be human.

What makes it so great?

Honestly, everything. I’ll break it down to the main ones, though.

Death’s POV is amazing.

There’s not a misplaced word in the whole novel. Death’s POV is a masterstroke; it takes the story of an arguably unremarkable young girl and makes it much larger. It infects the whole novel—even the happy bits—with a sense of creeping doom. There’s a constant juxtaposition of the everyday with the horrors of war. The fact that Liesel and the other characters are Germans creates a very fascinating moral quandary that never goes away, a moral quandary that Death refuses to let the reader forget. It’s too easy to think of Germany as a whole as the villain of all WWII/Nazi stories, but that’s not entirely true. Death occasionally pipes up with an aside with a truth about human existence or which cuts straight to the heart of the matter, like this list exposing the heart of Rudy’s father:

THE CONTRADICTORY POLITICS OF ALEX STEINER

Point One: He was a member of the Nazi Party, but he did not hate the Jews, or anyone else for that matter.

[…]

Point Five: Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He as afraid of what might come leaking out.

Death’s POV is just so unique and beautiful. The invisible, non-human narrator has a fascinating perspective on humanity that is painfully true, and I’m very impressed that a human writer managed to create a voice that feels so other but speaks so well (and so forcefully) to the audience, sometimes directly. Liesel’s story is compelling, but Death’s commentary is what makes the novel amazing.

The writing is tight and scrupulously plotted.

The narrative is painfully aware of every tiny plot development that is to come later. There is no question whatsoever that Death (and Zusak) knows  exactly what is to come at every moment. There are novels that foreshadow skillfully, but I don’t think I have ever read another book that reads like this one. I have no idea how Zusak managed to write this book because every section of it works off of and leads into all the other sections. I struggle even to explain the seamlessness of it. The writer in me marvels at it because I have no idea where Zusak started writing.

The novel is impossible to put down despite that it spoils itself over and over. It is 550 pages long. I read it in two days. This was a reread, so none of it was a ‘must find out what happens next’ push. It is just that good. On multiple occasions, Zusak tells the reader what will happen at the end, including who dies, how it happens, and when it happens. Spoiling is called “spoiling” because it ruins the ending. People don’t like to know about surprise twists in advance, but that doesn’t matter in The Book Thief. If anything, the spoilers build suspense by mentioning how certain tragic events might have been averted, by urging characters to make different decisions, and by lamenting wasted opportunities. Death shares the audience’s pain and breaks the fourth wall on occasion to engage with the audience (another plus for me; I love meta):

Of course, I’m being rude. I’m spoiling the ending, not only of the entire book, but of this particular piece of it. I have given you two events in advance, because I don’t have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It’s the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.

There are so many things to think of.

There is so much story.

It is impossible not to love the characters.

The characters are also great. Everyone is multifaceted. Some of them—Rosa Hubermann comes to mind—have unexpected depths that aren’t immediately obvious. Others are wonderful from the moment they enter the story. It is also ridiculously easy to get emotionally invested in them. Rudy particularly hits me hard. I think you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who has read this novel (or watched the movie) and not cried over Rudy. The other characters are just as great: Hans Hubermann may be one of the most genuinely good fictional characters I’ve ever come across. Zusak treats all his characters with care, even the ones who enter the story for only a short amount of time.

Everyone

Weirdly, I think The Book Thief hit me even harder the second time. I don’t really cry when reading—I get very overinvested, but for some reason it rarely translates to actual tears—but I came as close as I ever do when I finished it (which I did on lunch break, so I returned to work with watery eyes; my coworkers were amused). Amazing characters + WWII = heartbreak.

What’s the verdict?

The Book Thief is easily one of the best books I have ever read. The writing is amazing. The emotional impact is intense. The characters are lovable. The themes are powerful. Basically… I recommend it to literally everyone.

Just be prepared to cry.

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Book Club: The Books of Elsewhere The Shadows (+Mini Book Review)

I had to read The Books of Elsewhere: The Shadows by Jacqueline West for my 4th/5th grade book club, but in all honesty… I would not have picked it if I had been in charge of it. Personally, I did not like The Shadows, likely because of the anthropomorphic animals (I have a pet peeve) and the fact that the whole thing depends on characters keeping secrets that there is literally no reason to keep (I have standards).

The truth of the matter is that The Shadows is probably not a bad book. It is a pretty straightforward, easy fantasy story. I say this as a passionate fan of fantasy: good fantasy is amazing, but bad fantasy is pretty surface level and therefore doesn’t make for an inspiring book club pick. I’m usually pretty good at pulling the main ideas out of a novel and streamlining them into essays/discussion questions, but I struggled here. The Shadows isn’t on the same level as the other books we read for book club like The Westing Game, Holes, Charlotte’s Web, Gathering Blue, etc. It is not the sort of book that retains appeal to readers outside the age group, but I imagine it’s enjoyable to those who are between about eight and twelve.

Discussion time!

Six of Crows (Book Review)

I have heard a lot of good things about Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo, mostly from book bloggers. I read Shadow and Bone about a year ago and liked it. I wanted to read more of the series, but not enough that I actually ever got around to it. Apparently Six of Crows takes place in the same universe, but honestly I don’t remember Shadow and Bone well enough to comment on that. I do know that I connected to Six of Crows a lot more. I put off reading it for a long time because I have a hard time getting past overly-fantastical names. There’s a correspondence, in my mind if nowhere else, between stupid sounding names and badly written fantasy. I’m so glad I didn’t let the name “Kaz Brekker” put me off. I loved Six of Crows and am psyched to read Crooked Kingdom, almost psyched enough to resent every book I read between now and whenever I can get my hands on it.

Also, now I think that “Kaz Brekker” is a badass name and I love it as much as I love everything else about this book.

What’s it about?

Six of Crows follows criminal mastermind Kaz Brekker and his crew of fellow lowlifes as they take a huge job. Kaz and company live in a world occupied by “Grisha,” magically enhanced individuals who are often enslaved and hunted. Recently, a dangerous drug has been developed which elevates a Grisha’s powers until it is basically limitless. Hired for an immense sum of money to extract the drug’s developer from a nearly impenetrable fortress, Kaz assembles his crack team consisting of:

Kaz Brekker, lockpick and planmaker

Inej Ghafa, spy and acrobat called “the wraith”

Nina Zenik, Grisha Heartrender

Wylan Van Eck, explosives expert and estranged son of the bankroller

Jesper Fahey, sharpshooter and gambler

Matthias Helvar, ex-witchhunter

What’d I think?

As I said above… I loved it. The novel has POV chapters all of the aforementioned characters (with the exception of Wylan), and there are no weak chapters. I was deeply invested in even my least favorite character’s contributions (if anyone is interested, Matthias is my least favorite; he’s great, but I personally never go for the stoic, honorable types when there are charismatic tricksters right there). Every single character has a definite arc, interesting history, and compelling relationships. As criminals, they’re also very morally gray. They all fall somewhere on the scale from antihero to could easily be a villain if this were from a different POV, but I loved them all. The dynamic between the six of them is incredible. They’re all such distinct characters, and the different angles they come at the world from make for both a tense story and a beautifully rich mine of personality. At first glance none of them feel like they come from quite the same story, but the way Bardugo weaves them together creates a very genuine closeness. Is it hard to believe that a humorless soldier, a devout acrobat, a larger-than-life sorcereress, and a teenage criminal mastermind would be rubbing shoulders? At first maybe, but by the end you won’t be able to imagine having one without the others. 

There’s nothing better than an ensemble cast with no weak links in the ensemble. Every reader is going to have a different favorite, but because each character is so well developed individually and such an instrumental part of the crew, there’s no one that could be written off as nobody’s favorite.

Kaz (Yes, I’m using a villain gif for the hero)

Personally, my favorite is Jesper, the hilariously snarky asshole of the group. I always love the snarky asshole best, and Jesper is a top tier character. He’s my favorite in Six of Crows, but also a favorite amongst all characters ever. Possibly the surest way to get me to read a book is to tell me it has a Jesper-type in it.

Wylan is probably my second favorite character, because he is just the cutest—but not one-dimensionally cute! Slowly discovering Wylan’s hidden depths over the course of the novel is a true delight—(and because his lack of POV chapters made me really interested in what he might be hiding) and, post Crooked Kingdom, I find him the most relatable. I particularly love the flirty banter between him and Jesper; couples that banter on a trajectory towards love and mutual respect are always the best.

Inej is awesome and badass, and I can’t think of another character like her, a woman who is able to stay so kind and hopeful despite the ugliness around her, the horrors inflicted on her, and even the horrors she has inflicted on others. Kaz is oddly fascinating as well. Have I ever loved a character so much who has so few moral qualms and who does so many downright monstrous things? I don’t think so. In lesser hands, Kaz would be the monster he makes himself out to be, but Bardugo somehow managed to maintain the human, the broken little boy beneath the bastard of the barrel, and I’m in awe of the skill it took to do that. Nina is fantastic, and Matthias is a great character if not my personal taste. Their romance is a little too “Romeo and Juliet” for me—the whole couple-separated-by-warring-clans storyline hasn’t done it for me in a while—but since the other two (potential) couples are compelling and shippable, I’m not at all fussed about it.

There’s a part of me that wants to google other people’s response to Nina/Matthias as compared to Kaz/Inej and Jesper/Wylan, but I don’t want to get spoiled to any book two developments, so I’ll resist the urge.

There are a lot of teased romances, but it’s not all romance. The platonic relationships are well done as well. The whole group interacts with each other, both as one large group and in smaller breakout groups. I don’t think there’s a single dynamic amongst the six that isn’t explored at least a little bit. The various combinations are endlessly thrilling. These two have a secret pact to go against the main plan. These two share a similar touch-based trauma. This one thinks the rest of them are terrible. This one thinks that one is a liability. And so on. Also, Bardugo takes the time to actually develop her relationships instead of just resorting to instant love. And the banter! The banter is next level. Like, this is a book about murderers and thugs, but they will make you laugh out loud. They’ll also want to make you justify all those crimes, because you love them all so gosh darn much. 

The characterizations are far and away the standout of the novel, but that’s not to say that the rest of the novel isn’t strong. It is. The plot moves at a million miles a minute. At any given moment, someone is being betrayed or a plan has gone sour and is being rapidly reworked. There’s rarely a chance to stop and breathe, which makes Six of Crows exhausting in the absolute best way. It’s hard to find a moment to set the book down even if you have other important things to do, because every chapter ends with something perfectly engineered to keep you reading. What does Kaz have planned now? Is Inej going to be okay? Is Matthias going to betray the others? Make sure to start this book early in the day, because if you don’t you’ll end up reading deep into the night. I lost a lot of sleep to this one.

 I particularly love that Kaz legitimately outsmarts everyone. I totally believe that he has a hand on the pulse of any given situation and that he knows how to manipulate the odds. Some smart characters in books are only smart because everyone else is dumb, but Kaz—and therefore his elaborate heist plans—is actually the smartest guy in the room even amongst other criminal masterminds. He’s a compelling character, but he also drives the plot into harrowing and interesting tight corners. And, of course, back out of them. You cannot keep Kaz Brekker in a corner. 

The world is great, too. I’m used to fantasy worlds being based loosely on medieval England, but Six of Crows‘s two main locations are totally different and feel very fresh. Ketterdam is a bustling city where money is king and the criminal underbelly thrives. Fjerda is a country with a culture as cold and foreboding as its icy climate. I’m not usually all that interested in setting, but the locations in this novel really contribute to both plot and character. Kaz would not be Kaz if it weren’t for Ketterdam. Matthias would not be Matthias if he weren’t Fjerdan. I also appreciated it that Bardugo doesn’t hold the reader’s hand when introducing us to the world she’s created: we get to learn the cultures and landscapes as we go—the way the characters, particularly Kaz, had to—instead of having to wade through dry exposition. (You can take a slight shortcut by reading Shadow and Bone first, but it doesn’t give you everything). Like everything else in Six of Crows, the worldbuilding is brilliant. 

I will warn that it takes a little while to get into the book. I spent the first hundred pages being like, “What’s a corporalki? Where’s Ravka? Where’s everyone from? Who’s Pekka Rollins? Is Kerch a country or a county? What’s a drüskelle?” The information becomes clearer and clearer the farther you go, though, and eventually you pick up all the information you need without having to assemble cheat sheets (although that wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world). That being said, no one quiz me on Fjerdan politics or the Ravkan civil war because I will fail that quiz. It is worth noting that, chronologically speaking, Shadow and Bone is meant to be read before Six of Crows. It makes for an easier introduction to the magic of the world, but it certainly isn’t required reading. 

What’s the verdict?

Six of Crows is just as awesome as everyone says it is. It is brilliant as a character piece, but the fantasy universe is excellent as well. It starts slowly and the complicated politics is frustrating at the beginning, but once you get into the swing of it, it is impossible to put down. I would–and do!–confidently recommend it to anyone who likes YA, but particularly to fantasy lovers and people who read to get overly invested in characters and fictional relationships.

Report card.

Writing: A+          Characters: A+           Themes: A+                Plot: A+           Fun: A+                 Final: A+

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Update: I’ve since reread and reviewed Six of Crows several times. Here are a few links to my updated thoughts:

• Audiobook mini review
• Full series reread reviews
• Different series reread review

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Supernatural 13×15 Review (A Most Holy Man)

Previous Reviews: 13×01 13×02 13×03 13×04 13×05 13×06 13×07 13×08 13×09 13×10 13×11 13×12 13×13 13×14

I honestly thought that this was going to be a treading water episode. It was just Sam and Dean—no Cas, no Mary, no Jack, no Wayward Sisters, no Billie, no Rowena, no Asmodeus or Michael or any of the other villains—and these days most of those episodes are filler. Unless I’m really misremembering, the only other episode this season with no other recurring characters was The Scorpion and the Frog, which is my absolute last favorite so far; it ended up being pretty useless. I sort of expected this to be the same, but it was better. It’s still pretty low on my list of s13 episodes, but it wasn’t bad.

Thematically, “A Most Holy Man” is really interesting. It addresses the boys’ “whatever it takes”/the road to hell is paved with good intentions mentality. The Winchesters do a lot of bad things for a greater good, but the nice priest they meet this episode helps them see that maybe that’s not the best way to be. I really liked that priest. That being said, the actual episode wasn’t as strong as its thematic elements. I thought it wasted time it couldn’t afford to waste, and there were simply too many one-off characters to keep track of.

I did like that Sam had more to do than usual, though.

“In Syria, dodging bullets” apparently.

The boys are looking for the blood of a most holy man, which is one of the ingredients needed to open a passage to the apocalypse world to save Jack and Mary. Dean is grumpy and unenthusiastic, probably because Cas is gone and in danger (again). Dean’s mood swings are giving me whiplash. Sam is a little better. He theorizes that ‘a most holy’ man is a saint and looks online to find someone selling relics. He finds a lady who seems legit, so he and Dean go to meet with her.

The seller, Margaret, is immediately very taken with Sam. She couldn’t care less about Dean and Sam awkwardly flirts with her (he’s probably used to Dean doing the flirting) to get the information of a guy who might have what they need. Dean rolls his eyes a lot. He is clearly not impressed with Margaret.

They go to find the next guy (I didn’t make note of his name, so let’s call him Shady Guy), who offers to trade them the blood of “Saint… Ignatius” in exchange for the skull of Saint Peter, which has been stolen. Sam isn’t okay with the arrangement, but Dean reasons that the skull has already been stolen:

DEAN: This isn’t a perfect world we’re trying to save, okay? And if I’m not perfect trying to save it, so be it.

Sam reluctantly agrees. He does some more tricky Interneting and finds the guy who stole the skull. When they get to the robber’s apartment, though, they find him dead. Before they can do much investigating, they are accosted by an obviously fake cop who cuffs them to a radiator. Luckily, Sam has the tools to get them out of the scrape.

DEAN: You’re like a boy scout. Always prepared.

SAM: You’re like a… I don’t know what you’re like.

When they leave the dead guy’s apartment, they get accosted by a crime boss who also wants the skull. He knows they’ve made a deal with Shady Guy, but he’s willing to pay them a lot of money for the skull, enough for them to buy the blood from Shady Guy.

Me, trying to keep track of everything.

Dean agrees to the deal, mostly to get them out of there.

So, if you’re keeping track: they’ve now made two contradictory deals with two different dangerous guys and run afoul of a third.

Dean has a feeling that they need to check out the dead guy’s apartment again, so they do. They have to get past the real police, so Dean causes a diversion while Sam sneaks in. Sam finds a sheet of paper with some numbers on it, but gets hit over the head by a guy in a long tan coat who’s been creeping in the background the whole episode.

As You Wish (Book Review)

I spend very little time reading nonfiction, but my sister really likes memoirs, so I’ll occasionally read one on her recommendation so we have some overlap. She has been suggesting I read As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride by Cary Elwes (with Joe Layden) for more than a year and I finally got around to it. I’m not really sure why I put it off. The Princess Bride is one of my favorite movies (I liked, but did not love, the book) and last year I saw the curtain behind which Cary Elwes was signing autographs at Honolulu ComicCon (my sister and I are too cheap for quality celebrity encounters). Anyway, the point is… the book is full of fun movie trivia and it is incredibly upbeat.

What’s it about?

Well, it is exactly what it sounds like: memories from the set of The Princess Bride. Cary Elwes (Westley) wrote it, but there are short sections from his costars and director as well.

What’d I think?

As I said above, memoirs aren’t my thing. I generally prefer books that are more narrative. That being said, this is certainly an enjoyable one. The whole thing is upbeat and thankful. There is not a single bad word said about anyone or anything, which is sadly uncommon. When you think of celebrity memoirs (or, at least, when I do), you think of feuds and rivalries and ‘so-and-so is secretly awful to the fans.’ That’s not even a little bit true, and the unrelenting cheerfulness is quite charming. The only person Elwes criticizes even a little bit is himself, and honestly it’s kind of funny. He’s the main character in a famously amazing movie, so he has to do cartwheels to try to avoid complimenting himself. There are parts where he’s showering praise on the director and how he oversaw every bit of everything, including the flawless casting and then he’ll be like… wait a minute, they cast me, too. Don’t be conceited. I was a fluke who got lucky and did my best but everyone else is phenomenal.

And the actual stories from the set are quite fun. Some are funny, some are sad, and some are a combo but they’re all interesting.

What’s the verdict?

Anyone who loves The Princess Bride and movie trivia would have a good time with this one. Report card: A

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Moloka’i (Book Review)

I am not a person who cares much for setting. I’m actually a remarkably un-aesthetic person. Great views don’t do much for me in real life. Prettiness ranks really low on my list of important things. When I read books, I pay absolutely no attention to where it takes place. Long descriptions bore me. So I figured that Moloka’i by Alan Brennert wouldn’t be my cup of tea. That being said, I do live in Hawaii (though I have never been to Moloka’i), and I haven’t read any Hawaiian literature, which is probably a failure of culture. Moloka’i is pretty much exactly what I thought it’d be, though. Weirdly, though, every other person I’ve talked to about it has loved it.

What’s it about?

Moloka’i follows Rachel Kalama, a girl who is diagnosed with leprosy at age six and sent to the leper colony on Moloka’i at age seven, from 1891-1970. Rachel Forrest Gumps her way through Hawaiian history. The few events that happen at times or in places where she couldn’t have been—like Father Damien’s ministry or the attack at Pearl Harbor—are tied to her as much as is possible by other characters. Mostly, the book is an overview of Hawaiian history and the treatment of lepers that uses Rachel as a narrative tool to tie it all together.

Why didn’t I like it?

As hard as I tried to muster up an emotional response to Rachel or any of the other characters, I couldn’t. The novel skips a ton of time in order to hit as many significant events as possible, and when you only see isolated scenes in a person’s life without the journey, it’s hard to get attached. I couldn’t get invested in any of Rachel’s relationships because, with only one or two exceptions, all her friends die before they can make a big impact. There are a few characters who show promise early, but a time jump moves the story quickly away from them, curtailing any potential storylines. After a while, I stopped expecting characters to be actual characters and simply read them as trivia points. Moloka’i had trans people! Japanese Americans had it rough after the attack at Pearl Harbor! Jack London visited Moloka’i!

The novel has some good ideas, but they just aren’t executed well. One theme that is mostly kept throughout the novel is that of native Hawaiian culture versus the encroaching white/American culture. Traditional Hawaiian spirituality is pitted against white Christianity. The annexation of Hawaii is addressed. The Hawaiian susceptibility to white illness (like leprosy) is an important point. It does passably provide a thematic continuity for the story, but it does not really ever come to anything. There is no resolution even for the characters. I can see why there wouldn’t be a universal reconciliation since there is still some uneasiness in Hawaii about it, but it seems to me that Rachel as an individual should have found a personal balance. The clash sort of creates tension, but I feel like I caught onto that tension more because I knew it should’ve been there. Moloka’i is all fact, no feeling. I could identify moments where I ought to have felt this emotion or that emotion, but the novel is simply not very evocative.

One major reason the emotions don’t come through, aside from the time jumps and history hopping, is because the writing is bad. It’s clinical at times, and to be honest, Brennert lacks a basic grasp of comma usage. The gerunds are particularly offensive. I’m sure there are people out there who don’t have strong feelings about commas, but I’m not one of them (I once debated with someone about the usefulness of the Oxford comma for half an hour), and grievous comma misuse sours me, at least a little, on books I like to begin with; it tipped Moloka’i from eh to nah.

The motherhood storyline was lazy and clichéd. I feel like Brennert wanted me to feel really invested in Rachel’s relationship with her mother. If he’d dived more deeply into that relationship in all its messiness it might have been fascinating. Instead, he did the bare minimum and expects his readers to be affected by the conclusion of the relationship. I was not affected. I may have audibly groaned.

It also really, really bothered me that Rachel remained beautiful despite her leprosy. Everyone else became crippled and disfigured, but aside from a few minor ailments in her feet towards the end of her life, Rachel keeps her strength and beauty. Did Brennert think that his readers wouldn’t root for a leper who looks like a leper? PSA: There’s nothing wrong with protagonists who aren’t attractive.

What did everyone else think?

Most people like the book a lot. Everyone I’ve talked to (my coworkers and library patrons) has admitted that the story starts really slowly. They say it picks up for them when Rachel reaches Moloka’i. Most of them did feel for Rachel; I was told that Rachel’s story is one heartbreak after another. They noticed the bad writing, but were not too put off by it.

What’s the verdict?

Moloka’i is a poorly written novel that follows a group of weakly characterized characters across nearly a hundred years. If you want to read a good novel, you should skip it. If you look at it as narrative nonfiction or a general history of Hawaii, it is pretty good. I was able to mostly enjoy it when I stopped expecting character development or any sort of continuity over time and just reveled in the history lesson, which is something that the book does do well. So… would I recommend? No. Am I the only one who wouldn’t recommend? Apparently yes.

Report card.

Writing: D               Characters: D                 Plot: C

Themes: C                     Fun: C                         Final: C

 

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Supernatural 13×14 Review (Good Intentions)

Previous Reviews: 13×01 13×02 13×03 13×04 13×05 13×06 13×07 13×08 13×09 13×10 13×11 13×12 13×13

It feels like it’s been a long time since I wrote a TV episode review. The Olympics were fun, but I prefer plotted stories to sports. Here’s hoping my recapping skills haven’t gotten rusty.

“Good Intentions” is one of my favorite episodes this season, which is saying something since this has been a very strong season. While it is mostly serious and ends quite dramatically, the standout of this episode is Dean and Cas being goobers together, which is my favorite.

Alternate Universe

In the alternate universe, Michael and Zachariah have captured Jack and are messing with his mind to try to get him to open a portal, since they could walk a whole army through it rather than having to depend on AU!Kevin’s spell. Jack is too awesome to get tricked by Zachariah, though. He even sees through Zachariah’s (admittedly shoddy) Cas impersonation. In the end, the angels toss Jack in a cell with Mary.

Mary took Jack’s quick aging in stride. I feel like I would’ve needed a moment to absorb that.

After the requisite introductions, Jack tells Mary that he will hold out no matter how much he gets tortured. Despite looking (*quickly googles Alexander Calvert’s age*) twenty-seven, Jack is only six months old and therefore naïve. Mary knows better, realizing that the angels will murder her to motivate Jack. Luckily, she’s wily. She figures out that Jack’s powers aren’t working properly because the area is warded; she finds the place in the cell where the warding is weakest, which allows Jack to blast them out. They escape and run into… Bobby!

To be totally honest, I forget what the deal is with AU!Bobby. I think he just met Sam and Dean or something at the end of last season. I was excited to see him, but he didn’t do anything memorable enough to me to remember much beyond that. The point is, he knows Mary is not his Mary (she’s dead, I think). But he and AU!Mary were close, so he is perfectly happy to bring Mary and “friend of the family” Jack into the human camp to keep them safe.

IMO, Jack’s ability to murder people easily is his least attractive trait, but whatever. You do you, AU!Bobby.

Everything is fine—Jack adorably makes magical shadow puppets for the kids—until angels start showing up, led by Zachariah. Bobby wants to kick Jack out when he finds out Jack is a nephilim; he was tricked and betrayed by angels before and he doesn’t trust them. He changes his mind when Jack wipes out the attacking angels. RIP Zachariah. I’m not gonna lie. I wasn’t a huge fan of this Zachariah. There was nothing wrong with him, but I preferred the old Zachariah. You know how it is: when a character is played by multiple actors, it’s hard not to have a preference. So… sorry, new Zachariah. Bobby admits that Jack is actually okay and Jack wins him over even more when he dramatically decides that he has to kill Michael.

Regular Universe

What with the recap (which reminded us of Asmodeus shapeshifting into Cas) and Zachariah’s Cas impersonation, I spent the early moments of the episode unsure if Cas was Cas. By the end, I was confident. No one can imitate Cas perfectly, and Cas was on point this episode: he made strategically sound but morally gray decisions, hilariously snarked/flirted with Dean, and had a low-key self-esteem crisis that no one noticed. He needs to work on his communication. “Don’t get words wrong” my foot. As he always is when he’s in true form and with the Winchesters, Cas is my favorite part of the episode.

Donatello runs to the Winchesters and informs the group that he’s translated the spell from the demon tablet; he tells them that they need the hearts of Gog and Magog, two beings who can only be defeated by weapons touched by God. Cas is confused and suspicious because Donatello’s list doesn’t involve archangel grace, but lets it go. He offers get the hearts and Dean decides to go with him; Sam stays behind with Donatello to assemble the rest of the ingredients.