Maggie had a good husband who in recent months had become bedeviled by a series of bad decisions.
This is an interesting short read from Amazon’s Into
Maggie had a good husband who in recent months had become bedeviled by a series of bad decisions.
This is an interesting short read from Amazon’s Into Shadow collection, feat. a struggling Black widow in 1950s Savannah, developing a touch of her family’s paranormal sight and trying to find a way to keep going for herself and her young daughter in the wake of her husband’s death.
It sets up some interesting worldbuilding — Faustian bargains, people with a gift to see into the other side, and I was really intrigued by the funeral director as a character — but ultimately it’s too quick and rushed to explore much of it properly. The ending speeds on through at breakneck pace so you’re not entirely certain how it wrapped up. Could’ve benefited from being longer, imo....more
There was a sigh from Death. Space, he thought. That was the trouble. It was never like this on worlds with everlastingly cloudy skies. But once human
There was a sigh from Death. Space, he thought. That was the trouble. It was never like this on worlds with everlastingly cloudy skies. But once humans saw all that space, their brains expanded to try and fill it up.
I'll keep saying this, but Mort is also so much better than the first couple books -- and jumpstarts the Death subseries, with heart & soul & a poignaI'll keep saying this, but Mort is also so much better than the first couple books -- and jumpstarts the Death subseries, with heart & soul & a poignant exploration of What It Means To Be Human (which is, really, the entire point of every Death book). I love Death's attempts to raise Ysabell and hold down a job and learn more about existence. The boy-apprentice Mort is our hapless hero this time, but he undergoes much more character development than the more static Rincewind, and watching his transformation is great. Death himself is in full form, now coalesced into the character we know and love: well-intentioned, sympathetic and a little goofy like an embarrassing dad, a friend to cats, existentially lonely... and utterly terrifying if you get on his bad side.
The only thing is that I don't really feel the Mort/Ysabell ship all that much -- so much of the book was spent on his infatuation with Keli, after all, that the sudden lightspeed leap to him and Ysabell being in love and getting together was, well, very quick. (Romantic pacing is yet another thing that Pratchett gets better at later.) In fact, I sorta shipped Cutwell/Keli more?
Although: Both Ysabell and Keli are fab, especially because they're not Strong Female Characters by way of Herenna the Henna-Haired Barbarian. They're not warriors, they're just strong-minded and sensible women who want to get their way.
A lot of people say this book is one of the absolute best in the series, but somewhat blasphemously, something about it just doesn't hit my own particular buttons, despite my appreciation of Death. I think it comes down to not unmitigatedly loving the rest of the cast quite so much as in others. But Mort is still very, very solid as a novel, and reveals what a more traditionally good Discworld book is like....more
I first spotted this book on the shelves at a store many years ago and pulled it up, simply intrigued by the title and the cover. I didn't end up buyiI first spotted this book on the shelves at a store many years ago and pulled it up, simply intrigued by the title and the cover. I didn't end up buying it, but after that point, I started hearing great things about The Book Thief, and finally picked it up in earnest once I discovered my housemate owned a copy.
And ugh, this book is lovely. At 500+ pages, it took some time to get through -- it's a slow start with a slow pace, meandering its way through the years and Liesel's childhood, before picking up pace as the situation worsens. I'm assuming this book fits under 'magical realism', considering the anthropomorphised Death and his nonchalant status as narrator of the tale and bystander to Liesel's life. It's sort of fairytale-like, particularly with the poetic language and the hints towards the future. The Book Thief underscores The importance of literacy, books, and words in general, and their power as tools of propaganda or escapism or love. It's about survival: a glimpse of WWII from German characters within Nazi Germany's borders, which still isn't that great of an existence. The characters are endearing and it's a heartwarming depiction of small-town living: all idyllic and lovely before it's torn apart. Liesel and Rudy, the Hubermanns, Tommy Mueller, Holtzapfel, Ilsa Hermann -- they all wormed my way under my skin and slowly but surely into my heart, goddamnit.
I really do have to talk about the narrator, too -- having a wartime story narrated by Death is ingenious. I read the author's note at the end, and was intrigued to see that Zusak first tried writing Death as callous and sadistic/gleeful -- but of course it didn't work, because it's definitely not the right tone. What was truly crushing was Death's sympathy, his sorrow, his love for flawed but promising humanity, and his twisted glimpses of the future that still did not emotionally prepare me for what was coming.
The format was also interesting, with interludes and definitions, plus drawings and handwritten texts from the character's home-made books, which adds a touch of veracity.
Anyway, reading this was a wonderful punch to the gut. Mainly, I'm wondering why I ever decided that NOW IS THE TIME TO READ THE BOOK THIEF? I finished it on the 4th of July, TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE in public in a park in New York. Grim World War II literature is totally light summer reading, you guys!!! Now I need to decide what to read next, to recover. Ideally something light and fluffy, I don't know.
As usual, a couple favourite quotes beneath the cut:
Although something inside told her that this was a crime -- after all, her three books were the most precious items she owned -- she was compelled to see the thing lit. She couldn't help it. I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.
---
His fingers smelled of suitcase, metal, Mein Kampf, and survival.
3.5 stars, rounded down. Which might be a little blasphemous! It's interesting revisiting the entire series in chronological order from beginning to e3.5 stars, rounded down. Which might be a little blasphemous! It's interesting revisiting the entire series in chronological order from beginning to end, because I had this memory of Reaper Man as being absolutely astounding -- and its reputation certainly says so -- but I found myself underwhelmed this time around.
The Bill Door sections are exquisite. Absolutely perfect, five stars. Melancholy and wistful and philosophical and feelsy, as Death vacates his position and learns what it's like to be human, to live on limited time, to wring the best out of life, and as he develops a touching relationship with an old farmwoman. And we also have the birth of the Death of Rats (who is such a wonderful sidekick in the series as a whole, so I forgot that he didn't always exist). His realisation of why his job matters; why the personal touch matters. There are sequences that honestly brought tears to my eyes:
LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?
The other two thirds of the book, though...? The Fresh Start Club was fun (Reg Shoe!), and I like that the wizards' personalities are starting to solidify (and we now see the fraying threads of the Bursar's sanity, too), but I just wasn't into the entire plotline with the city eggs. I prefer it when the Discworld develops its own technology and satirical analogues for real-life things, but the modern world getting dropped wholesale and unchanged into Ankh-Morpork isn't as compelling.
If it had all been Bill Door or with a stronger supporting plot it could have been 5 stars, but unfortunately the other half drags it down. Still very good, though....more
In one sense there was just clear air overhead. In another, stretching off to infinity, were the hosts of Heaven and Hell, wingtip to wingtip. If y
In one sense there was just clear air overhead. In another, stretching off to infinity, were the hosts of Heaven and Hell, wingtip to wingtip. If you looked really closely, and had been specially trained, you could tell the difference.
This was my first time rereading this book since high school, thanks in large part to the pitch-perfect Amazon TV adaptation -- which, upon going back to the text now, I realised even more how verbatim the adaptation was. Scenes untouched, dialogue exact, and Terry Pratchett's narration preserved.
What can I say about this book that hasn't been said yet? It's the story of an angel and a demon stationed on Earth, and like opposing secret agents on long assignment, the two wind up becoming closer to each other than their distant superiors. It's about readying the world for the apocalypse, but due to a mixup, the real Antichrist is growing up in a quiet, sleepy English village without celestial or infernal influence, and yet unconsciously exerting the gravity of his power on his surroundings anyway. It's about what it means to be human, and how best to look after this tired little planet of ours. It's about how good and evil is really just a matter of perspective, not labels.
It also has one of my favourite practical occultists, Anathema Device, a woman who's relentlessly pragmatic even as she walks in the footsteps of her psychic ancestor's comedic and extremely accurate prophecies. (This one was unseen in both text and TV, and only mentioned, but it makes me grin.)
I literally laughed out loud several times while reading, which is rare for a book! Gaiman and Pratchett's styles meld seamlessly together, to the extent that you can't really tell where one ends and the other begins (and neither could they). The atmosphere is sometimes creepy and unsettling, sometimes funny, sometimes heartwarming.
There are some very tiny jokes that haven't aged well (this is a 30-year-old book), like the Japanese accent on Newt's car or a couple homophobic slurs, but it doesn't really detract from the whole.
I also read an edition with a really lovely afterword, covering the process of writing this book (I am always fascinated by collaborative fiction and how it's done, particularly since this one was written in the '80s and thus they had to take an extremely old-school approach to the writing of it). There's also a section where the authors each describe the other, and it made me heart ache all over again for our having lost Terry Pratchett. I miss him constantly, but rereading his books remains a comfort....more
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