Some books just really stick with you. I first read This Present Darkness in my early teens. That was twenty years ago. Few books outside of the BibleSome books just really stick with you. I first read This Present Darkness in my early teens. That was twenty years ago. Few books outside of the Bible have been so impactful to my faith. But while it’s stuck with me, while I’ve always remembered the gist, a lot of the details had faded with time. I’m so glad I decided to revisit it, because I had forgotten so much in terms of plot and story. I was surprised by how tense and tightly plotted this novel is. It’s also faster-paced than I recalled. It’s amazing that a story I’ve read before could have me so on the edge of my seat. I almost literally couldn’t put this book down.
There is a battle raging for the soul of the small town of Ashton. Two men—a young pastor and a newspaper man—might unknowingly be the town’s last bastions of hope. And they don’t even know it. Through the eyes of the pastor, we bear witness to the spiritual side of this battle. Through those of the newspaper man, we see the more physical, tangible subterfuge. One underpins the other. But while the spiritual might be aware of the physical, the reverse doesn’t hold as true. It’s only when the two men—and thus, the two sides—become acquainted that good has any hope of triumphing over this present darkness.
When this novel was first published in 1986, Christian speculative fiction wasn’t really a thing. There might have been a classical allegory here or there, and C.S. might’ve taken the world by storm with The Chronicles of Narnia, but there was nothing specifically targeted to an adult, Christian audience. This Present Darkness was one of the first inroads into genre fiction promoting a Christian worldview. And I don’t think any fictional book outside of this one has so radically impacted the Christian world’s views on prayer and spiritual warfare.
While it has stuck with me through the decades since, my first encounter with this book was before my introduction to Stephen King. I didn’t realize how similar Peretti and King were in terms on tone and style. There’s just something about the styles of both men that I find immediately gripping. However, as much as I adore King, there are always a few things about any of his books that leave me feeling icky. I soldier on, because I think he’s a phenomenal storyteller, but those aspects or scenes remain. Reading a Peretti book is akin to getting everything I love in a King book—the storytelling, the layers, the tension and pacing—without the elements that don’t work as well for me.
Outside of the stellar writing, there were some other really strong building blocks to this story. I’ve already mentioned the tight plotting and the fast pace. The cast of characters was also varied and interesting, and the good guys were incredibly easy to root for. The setting of Ashton was well drawn, and all of the threads of the story were well balanced against each other. But my favorite elements were the themes. There’s the aforementioned emphasis on prayer and its impact on spiritual warfare. There’s also a good deal of discourse around all of the different seemingly innocuous tools the enemy can employ against the unsuspecting. For instance, New Age, Neo-Pagan spiritualism is the demonic weapon of choice in this story. It’s so easy to let yourself be taken in and deceived when you’re looking for truth everywhere outside of the Truth.
I can’t believe how well This Present Darkness has held up. For a 38 year-old story, it could have felt dated. But there’s a timelessness to spiritual warfare that really shines through. I’ve always listed this as one of the most impactful works of fiction I’ve ever consumed. And that still holds true. This book still packs an incredible punch. I can’t believe I waited so long to reread it. ...more
I adore Greek myth retellings when they’re done well. Circe and The Song of Achilles, Clytemnestra and Stone Blind, Ariadne and Elektra and Atalanta aI adore Greek myth retellings when they’re done well. Circe and The Song of Achilles, Clytemnestra and Stone Blind, Ariadne and Elektra and Atalanta are all examples of excellent retellings, beautifully written. Stone Blind and Circe are even among some of my very favorite books. But North’s Songs of Penelope trilogy has usurped them all on my shelf. It’s rare that a mythic retelling is not a standalone novel. It’s rare that such a story can stay so true to its source material while also being wonderfully original. It’s rare that every book in a trilogy merits five full stars. Songs of Penelope manages to do all three of those things brilliantly. There is nothing that I would change about any of this trilogy, but I believe this final installment, The Last Song of Penelope, is my favorite. What a note to end on.
Each of these three books is told by a different goddess. Ithaca came from Hera’s perspective. House of Odysseus, from Aphrodite. In The Last Song of Penelope, we hear from the third of Olympus’s most prominent goddesses: Athena. (Artemis is also present throughout the series, but she has no interest in sitting still long enough to spin a tale.) Athena is the goddess of war and wisdom, and she sees that the gods of Greece will someday become obsolete. She is determined to be timeless where they are not, and she knows that the best way to achieve that is through a different kind of immortality, that guaranteed by a really good story. She will not be the star of this tale; she will be on the periphery, but that will be more than the rest of the pantheon achieves. It will be enough. It is for the crafting of this story that she has chosen to patron Odysseus and coax him through the twenty years he is away from Ithaca, first in Troy and then on his decade-long journey home. In this book, Odysseus is finally home. And, through the eyes of Athena, we witness all Hades break loose in the court of Penelope.
The triumph of Odysseus as we see it in The Odyssey is tragic here. We see a man storm in and wreck everything a woman has built, as if he has earned that destructive privilege simply by being a man. But here, that destructive force is a hero of the ages, one that millennia of readers and listeners have respected for his canniness: Odysseus. We know him as wise and clever, a man who always thinks through every step in a plan. And here, we see him lose his grip on that cleverness. In the wreckage, he and his furious, devastated wife must figure out how to repair the damage. Or, at least, how to survive it.
I love the character work in this series. Penelope, who has always been portrayed has nothing more than a faithful wife with just enough of her husband’s cleverness to outfox the suitors who plague her halls, is a woman of great depth here. We see her grow as the series progresses, as the layers of her character are slowly peeled back. And then there’s Odysseus. Because he is so intelligent and canny, we see him regain his grip on the cleverness that failed him in the heat of the moment. We see him learning from those mistakes and putting serious effort into cultivating empathy, as that’s what he needs to understand Penelope. His responses are so different from those of other men and kings in this land, in this time. At first, these differences are solely because he refuses to be like other men; he is better. But as the story continues, he begins to see himself and those around him — especially the women — differently, more clearly. He changes. He learns. He grows. I found both husband and wife incredibly believable and exquisitely rendered.
North’s writing is fantastic. Her prose in this series is as close to flawless as humanly possible. It’s brimming with humor and emotion while also being absolutely gorgeous. This series is excellent in physical and digital form, because it’s just a wonderful, timeless story, very well told. But it’s absolutely brilliant on audio. The Iliad and The Odyssey were the zenith of oral storytelling, and North has woven that kind of cadence into her unique retelling. Catrin Walker-Booth also just does a phenomenal job on the audio narration.
The elements I loved in the first two installments in the series carry through The Last Song of Penelope, as well. Besides the aforementioned character development and phenomenal craftsmanship to the writing itself, I just love how this series is set up. The pacing and setting are very well done. But one of the highlights for me is all of the gender politics, both ancient and modern, that is woven into the narrative. This is a very feminist series, but it never felt preachy or like it had an agenda. The point was to tell the stories of the women and goddesses on the periphery of such a famous story, and North was very successful in her aim.
I love everything about the Songs of Penelope trilogy. It’s a unique but timeless take on a story that has shaped storytelling for as far back as collective memory can recall. The entire trilogy is now shelved alongside my favorites. It’s a story I’ll be revisiting often, and I’ll think of it whenever The Iliad or The Odyssey are mentioned....more
The Visitation is a book that has lived rent-free in my head for close to twenty years. While the overarching plot has never faded from my memory, I wThe Visitation is a book that has lived rent-free in my head for close to twenty years. While the overarching plot has never faded from my memory, I was surprised to see how few of the details I actually remembered. I was also surprised that I remembered none of Travis’s flashbacks. However, while the present-day plot, the false messiah and the suspicious miracles and the small town tensions were perhaps more memorable, it’s those flashbacks that resonated the most with me this time around. Because there are so many reviews that discuss that present timeline in depth, I’m going to focus on the protagonist’s past as revealed through those flashbacks.
“As far as I could discern, God was not expected to move, speak, or convict—he was expected to follow the printed order of the service and keep quiet like everyone else.”
There’s a lot of raw, real, brutally honest discussion about the failings of churches, and how that highlights the brokenness of the Church herself. And yet Peretti showcases these things through a character who might have lost his faith in religion, but his relationship with Jesus stays intact. They know not to judge their Savior on the failings of the ones He died to save, and that’s refreshing in a world of deconstruction. We of course also see the opposite, those who have been wounded by the church and who blame God for every second of the pain. I loved that dichotomy. It was conveyed really well.
We are also shown the dangers of seeing “signs” and visions everywhere, of attributing to God messages and directives that He never sent. There’s a delicate balance between walking by faith and inventing your own indicators of God’s interaction. Speaking of balance, Peretti also does a wonderful job demonstrating the tension between believing that God still works miracles and feeling that you are owed one simply for holding that belief. There’s the burning question: can your faith in God survive when He doesn’t deliver the miracle for which you plead?
“I was saved, sanctified, born-again, and Spirit-filled, but Jesus and I were strangers.”
Some of descriptions of the more over-the-top religious scenes were uncomfortably close to some experiences I had in my youth. There is also discourse on the dangers of legalism, the lifeless counterpart to this kind of religious fervor. Peretti paints a painful picture of “Christians” so attached to their traditions and comfort that they’re actually threatened by growth and will go out of their way to snuff it out. And he doesn’t stop there. Throughout the book, Peretti runs the gamut of potential church bodies, and the strengths and failings of each. He shows us the fine line between a unified body of believers and a cult of personality. We are shown small churches and mega-churches, charismatic churches and conservative churches (as well as churches that are somehow both), intellectualism and anti-intellectualism and the inherent dangers of both. Most importantly, we see that those who try to pass themselves off as servants of Christ when they are the opposite will always be found out. False holiness and the bastardized “miracles” of the devil will always fall apart.
While I love and appreciate This Present Darkness and the impact it’s had on my worldview, it’s The Visitation that speaks to me the most deeply. I’d have to say that this is my favorite of Peretti’s books. It’s the most applicable and thought-provoking of his works, in my opinion, and I’m very glad I decided to reread it....more
“Because you can’t be creative if you’re frightened and anxious. You have to be allowed to laugh and play and fail.”
Over the course of my college year
“Because you can’t be creative if you’re frightened and anxious. You have to be allowed to laugh and play and fail.”
Over the course of my college years, I managed to read Shakespeare’s entire (vast) body of work. But I would be lying if I said that I had a firm grasp and deep understanding of every single play. It was a matter of checking things off of a list, not because I had a significant appreciation for Shakespeare. When I was teaching, that appreciation began to grow. And in the past six or so years, I’ve become more and more interested in his plays, rereading and rewatching them here and there. Which brings me to Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent.
I picked this up for two reasons: it features a celebrity I greatly admire, and it looked like accessible literary criticism. I expected to enjoy it, but not for it to be anything special. How wrong I was. This book is a treasure on multiple levels. If you’re up on your Shakespeare, it’s fascinating. The minutia of his work is discussed, down to split iambic pentameter and what that means to a specific scene in Macbeth, or what subtext is conveyed by the change from rhyming lines to blank verse to prose. I feel like I learned so much while being simultaneously entertained.
And then there’s everything I learned about Judi herself. I love memoirs woven around the work and passion of a person’s life. This is one of my favorite examples of this type of memoir, because it was honestly more of a retrospective. While it was about Judi’s experiences on the Shakespearean stage, she removed herself from it as much as she could. She uses her personal interactions with the plays to expound upon the plays themselves, and to draw attention to the brilliance of Shakespeare’s work. That’s not to say we don’t learn plenty about her life. Dench’s childhood sounds delightful, like something from a story. We also learn about her marriage and career, as viewed through the lens of her Shakespearean roles.
And I had no idea how incredibly playful and mischievous she is! O’Hea said that he almost entitled this book “Herding Eels,” because Dench is so slippery in conversation. She dislikes talking about herself, which made this series of interviews interesting, I’m sure. And evidently it was quite the task to edit out the majority of Dame Judi’s swearing, which seems to have been hilariously frequent. These interviews were conducted over the course of four years, and were never intended to become a book. O’Hea expected to offer them to the archive department at Shakespeare’s Globe. But seeing outside interest, O’Hea decided instead to offer Dench’s seven decades of experience with Shakespeare — or “the man who pays the rent,” as Dench and her husband called him — to the world at large.
Both the audiobook and the physical book were fantastic in their respective mediums. Barbara Flynn did a wonderful job portraying Dench in the audiobook. She sounded remarkably like her! Dench also broke in periodically and delivered portions of soliloquies from certain plays. And there was a bonus chapter at the end of the audiobook that was just a conversation between Dench and O’Hea. Something that made the physical book special is that it included various sketches and doodles from Dame Judi herself. She struggles very much now with her vision deteriorating, and only included these to encourage other visually impaired people to pick up a brush or a pencil.
This is the kind of book that deserves to speak for itself. Because of that, I’m including a variety of brief selections from the book below. If you want to just know my opinion, Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent is brilliant, and should be a treasured addition to any literary nerd’s book collection. If you want a taste test, here are some quotes!
Here are just a few of the profound statements Judi made that helped to deepen my understanding of and appreciation for Shakespeare’s work:
“You can’t play all the complexities.”
“No one ever lies in soliloquy.”
“Songs in Shakespeare are never just there for the sake of it; the have to change something.”
“That’s why I don’t think we should update the language. It always loses something in translation — the poetry and the fizz. Or it loses the rhythm… It’s meant to make it easier, but it traduces the language, reduces our imaginations. Why can’t we be made to work a bit?”
“Our job is to make the classics sound contemporary without losing the poetry. It’s a balancing act.”
Dench discussed why she doesn’t like watching herself on film:
“You just see the mistakes. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Whereas, on stage, you can always go the next night and make it better. That’s why I much prefer working in the theatre.”
And a few more general quotes that I loved:
“Good art continues to have a life of its own — in the same way that a good play will continue after the applause has stopped.”
“And it doesn’t matter what nationality you are, you may not be able to communicate with the person sitting next to you, but music allows you to meet on another plane; it transcends difference.”
Finally, I thought this portions of one of the last conversations in the book, in the chapter “Future of Shakespeare,” was a beautiful way to wrap up the book:
Does Shakespeare have a future? “Well, he’ll always be relevant because, as I said earlier, he reflects the times we’re living in…
Shakespeare’s words will continue to exist because he’s part of our everyday language…
Shakespeare is an international language, a beacon of humanity, of everyday life…
He’s able to express what it is to be human in the most concise way…
There’s something for everybody in Shakespeare. Everything you have felt or are yet to feel is all in there in his plays: oppression, ambition, remorse, everything…
Shakespeare has examined every single emotion. His writing has the capacity to make us feel less alone.”
I received an advance digital copy of this novel from the publisher, Crown Publishing, via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
We Begin at the I received an advance digital copy of this novel from the publisher, Crown Publishing, via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
We Begin at the End was one of my very favorite books of 2021. It was one of the two best crime fiction novels I had ever read, alongside Razorblade Tears by S. A. Cosby. A third is now joining their ranks. All the Colors of the Dark is an absolutely brilliant example of crime fiction. It’s heavy and hard and heartbreaking, but it ends on such a strong, vibrant note of hope that it makes the darkness of the journey feel worth it.
“I just wanted to show you that sometimes things survive despite the harshest of odds.”
I can’t say anything about the plot of this book without giving something away. So instead, I’ll talk about the elements of this book that made it such a profound reading experience for me. Let’s start with the foundation: the craftsmanship. Whitaker’s style and voice are incredibly unique. He has such an odd way with words; it compels you to read slowly so that you can fully grasp what’s being stated, while also being incredibly propulsive, even in the quietest of moments. The plotting and pacing were also very unique. I could never guess where the story was going next. The trajectory was wholly unpredictable, which made it feel true to life. Most stories have some kind of recognizable framework to them, but I never felt that presence in this book. Instead, it felt unusually organic for a novel.
“Memories lie in people, not places and things.”
Then there are the characters. My heart ached for Saint, and Patch, and characters on the periphery. This was almost too heartbreaking to read in places. I found myself putting it down often, because while I needed to know what happened next, I didn’t want to see the characters suffer any more. Nix and Sammy, Tooms and Grace, Misty and Jimmy, Norma and Charlotte, were all well fleshed out and very interesting. They felt real, but nowhere near as real as Saint and Patch. I fell in love with these two friends, and my heart broke over everything they went through.
“To love and be loved is more than can ever be expected, more than enough for a thousand ordinary lifetimes.”
The setting was also well drawn, if secondary to the characters, and the passage of time felt believable. This book spans decades, from 1975 to 2001. A story covering that much time runs the risk of feeling either rushed or plodding, either of which throws off the believability of the tale being spun. Not at all the case here. Each jump forward in time also made sense, and didn’t leave me feeling like I had missed any steps. He also did a great job weaving in subtle religious and societal commentary without coming across as preachy, or detracting at all from the story.
“God is a first call and a last resort, from christening to death bed. In between is where faith is tested. The mundanity. Anyone can drop to their knees when they’re facing crisis, but doing it when everything is steady…”
“God started the fire. And now He wants the credit for putting it out.”
Art played a large part in this book, as did obsession. We saw how art can be a refuge, or it can fuel the flames of whatever obsession is running your life. This presentation of art, specifically painting and photography, lent even more meaning to the title. I don’t often comment on titles in my book reviews, but I found this one evocative, and layered with meaning. It really added something to the book, in my opinion. Not all titles do.
“Can’t you see how beautiful you make tragedy?”
Whitaker shows us how trauma can force maturity, or it can break you. Sometimes, it does both. His characters long desperately for a return to life and relationships that are nothing but ash, with no hope of reclamation. Survival doesn’t always mean a return to normalcy. In fact, that return is rarely the case. He also shows us how love can leave you broken in a multitude of ways, how it can twist devotion into obsession, even when the heart behind it is pure. Some such obsessions are even noble, though that makes them no less destructive.
“Okay is the preserve of the uninspired… I’d rather live and die at the extremes than exist in the middle.”
Something I really love about crime fiction versus procedurals is the focus on fallout. Procedurals are all about solving a case, about bringing the guilty party to justice. While that is the hopeful endgame of crime fiction, that is not the focus. We are instead plunged into the aftermath, as we are shown how a singular crime effects an individual, a relationship, a town. Those ripple effects, and how they continue expressing themselves months or years or decades after the fact, are what set crime fiction apart.
“Saint wanted to ask what it was like, to lose the thing that defined you. But perhaps she knew: it left you someone else. A stranger you and no choice but to tolerate, and see each day and feel and fear.”
I was stunned by All the Colors of the Dark. I am completely in awe of the craftsmanship, and I will be thinking about the characters and their journey, and the ending Whitaker gave them, for a long time to come. This is a book that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to bring myself to reread, but it’s absolutely a book that I will be getting a physical copy of someday. Powerful stories will always have a home on my shelves, and this is every bit as powerful as We Begin at the End and Razorblade Tears, if not more so. What a story....more
“We must decide if God is worth trusting, when He does not answer our prayers the way we think He should… I promise, He is worth it.”
Of Love and Treas
“We must decide if God is worth trusting, when He does not answer our prayers the way we think He should… I promise, He is worth it.”
Of Love and Treason is the best Christian historical fiction I’ve read since the Mark of the Lion trilogy. And it’s just as devastating. It’s is a tragic story; we know from the first lines exactly how things will end. And yet it’s also achingly beautiful, on multiple levels. This is, above all, a tale of love in all its forms. We see the romantic love we’ve come to associate with the name Valentine. We also see familial love, the brotherly love of friends, and, above and through them all, the agape love of God, demonstrated through the sacrificial actions of His followers. Of Love and Treason utterly wrecked me, and I wish everyone would read it.
This is the story of Valentine, called the Cupid and haled as a hero by the people of Rome. When marriage is outlawed by the emperor, so that more soldiers can be drafted into the army, Valentine alone dares to defy the government and marry couples in the dead of night. History tells us that Valentine was martyred, slaughtered in the arena in A.D. 270. And just in case this isn’t known by the reader, Ogle reminds us on the very first page. And then she fleshes out this hero of the faith, breathing so much life and personality into a man whose legacy has been cheapened into chocolates and trite greeting cards. We see his life as a leader in the Church, as a notarius of Rome, as a treasured nephew and friend. We see him as a rebel, quietly defying Rome because he firmly believed that it was the right thing to do. We see him as a potential lover himself, falling gently in love long after he had given up on finding for himself what he facilitates in others. And we see him at the end, facing his death with so much grace and faith that it made my heart physically ache in my chest.
This is the story of Iris, a girl struck blind in an accident seven years ago. She is the daughter of a legionnaire turned jailer, and the father and daughter have incurred a tremendous amount of debt visiting priests and augurs, begging the gods for the return of Iris’s sight. Her disability disqualifies her from marriage, even before the marriage ban is in place. Titus, Iris’s best friend and a Praetorius, does all he can to help his friend and the man who has served as his surrogate father for so many years, but when their debt is called in, there’s nothing any of them can do. When she chances upon Valentine in the market one day, he promises to pray for her. She has no use for the Christian God but, when she has a flash of vision for the first time since the accident, she finds herself full of questions about Him, and determined to cross paths with Valentine again.
I’ve read a good bit of Christian fiction, and a lot of it feels more like clean fiction with occasional verses here and there. I’ve read a good bit of Christian historical fiction and it typically seems to fall into one of three camps: Biblical fiction, 1800s western fiction, or World War II fiction. There are of course exceptions, but those seem to be the biggest subdivisions of the genre. This book is none of those things. Of Love and Treason is an incredibly Christian story, down to the marrow. God was on every page of this story. It never felt cheesy, or trite. His presence rang so true. I also really loved the setting. Ogle did a brilliant job capturing the feel of Rome in this era; I was completely immersed.
And I need to talk about Ogle’s writing. This is a debut novel, and I was incredibly impressed by the craftsmanship. The occasional flashes forward to Valentine’s execution were exquisitely written, more poetic than the rest of the story. This tonal shift not only set these sections apart, but brought to mind the work of Madeline Miller, which is just about the highest compliment that can be paid to anyone’s prose, I think. The writing in the rest of the book was also fantastic, but a bit more workman-like, which suited the story being told. And Ogle’s presentation of the Gospel and prayer and all discussion of God never felt forced. Her presentation of early Church life and the faith of her characters felt as natural as breathing.
I loved everything about Of Love and Treason. It made me incredibly excited to read more of Ogle’s work. I will be preordering her next book as soon as possible. I was fascinated by this take on Valentine’s story, and find myself so interested to dig further into early Church history. But this story also made me excited to dig back into Christian fiction, to see how things have changed across the umbrella of the genre in the years I’ve been away. So thank you, Jamie Ogle, for crumbling my snobby, cynical aversion to Christian fiction as a whole. Your debut proved to me that it can be just as beautifully crafted as secular literature, but with so much food for my soul that fiction apart from Christ simply cannot offer. I so look forward to reading everything else you ever write!...more
I received an advance digital copy of this novel from the publisher, St. Martin’s Press, via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Inheritance waI received an advance digital copy of this novel from the publisher, St. Martin’s Press, via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Inheritance was one of my favorite books of 2023, and it ended on a major cliffhanger. So when I was offered an advance digital copy of The Mirror, which was quite possibly my most anticipated read of 2024, I couldn’t hit the download button fast enough. And I loved every single page. There’s not a single thing I would change about The Mirror, except for the fact that I have to wait over a year to see how the story ends.
Thankfully, our story picks up exactly where Inheritance left off. Because of that, there’s not a ton I can say about the plot. What I can do is offer a brief synopsis of Inheritance. Our main character, Sonja, is watching her life unravel. Right after we meet her, she finds her fiancé in bed with one of her bridesmaids—who also happens to be her cousin. From there, she has to deal with throwing him out, cancelling the wedding, and drama at her job, as both she and the ex-fiancé work for the same graphic design firm. In the wake of all of this, an additional piece of drama completely upends her life. It turns out her deceased father was a twin, and that the uncle she never knew has left her Lost Bride Manor, a massive mansion on the coast. She takes a chance and moves in, only to find that the house isn’t empty. It’s insanely haunted. Most of the ghosts are helpful and friendly, but there’s one that will stop at nothing to drive Sonja away. There’s a mystery to solve, a romance to be had, and some truly fantastic friendships to be found within the book, as well.
There’s not a ton of forward momentum to the plot in The Mirror, but I didn’t care. It was never, ever boring. Nora weaves a spell in her portrayal of the everyday; even the mundane is magical in her hands. This is one of the best examples of a slice-of-life story I’ve read in recent years. It gives us a ton of character development in Sonja, as well as in her best friend Cleo, who I absolutely adore; Trey, Sonja’s love interest on of the steadiest, sweetest men in Nora’s vast back catalogue of romantic leads; and Owen, Trey’s best friend and Sonja’s cousin she didn’t know about until moving to the Manor. I love every single member of this inner circle of the cast with all my heart. They’re just a wonderful group, and I love the many bonds between them. (Also, can I just say that Cleo, Owen, and Cleo’s grandma are some of the most naturally, effortlessly sexy characters I’ve encountered in any book?) Then there are the other two main groups of characters: the pets, who all somehow resemble their humans in personality; and the ghosts, who are an eclectic and by-and-large charming bunch, with one glaring exception.
I’m not a big crier as I read, but I had to put this book down multiple times because I couldn’t see the words. Sometimes the tears were from sorrow, shared with one of the characters. But more, they were from sheer sweetness, from scenes that made my heart ache in the best of ways. Nora has a way of bringing out the emotions in me, and I’m not sure she’s ever exemplified that more than in the last 10% of this book.
Let’s talk about the bookends of the story: the prologue and the final chapter. Nora’s prologues are always exceptional. They plunge us into the tone and atmosphere of the story to come, but they’re also different stylistically than the rest of the book. This one in particular was musical, moody, darkly whimsical. I was instantly transported and drawn in. And then there’s the last chapter. That ending, man. What is up with Nora’s endings in recent years?! They leave you desperate for the next book. Which is all well and good when you actually have the next book in hand. But when you have to wait a year? It’s torture! But it’s torture of the best kind. It guarantees that I’ll be thinking about this book for months to come, and will be reading the last installment as soon as I can get my hands on it.
One of my dreams when I first started reviewing books in 2016 was to, someday, be able to read Nora Roberts books before they were published. It seemed like such a lofty goal to me, but she’s one of my absolute favorite authors, a favorite I share with my mom, my grandma, and my brother. If I could get anything out of reviewing books, that’s what I hoped for. Lo and behold, my dream has become reality. Every time I get one of her books early, it feels like the best Christmas ever. I’m so thankful to have gotten to read The Mirror early, and am even more thankful that I loved it so much. Nora Roberts is a master of her craft, and I can’t wait to see how she brings this story to a close in 2025!
If Nora Roberts is my ultimate comfort author (which she is), then this trilogy is my ultimate comfort trilogy. Of the dozens of trilogies and quartetIf Nora Roberts is my ultimate comfort author (which she is), then this trilogy is my ultimate comfort trilogy. Of the dozens of trilogies and quartets I’ve read from her, the Key trilogy is my favorite. There are others that I love, that I also return to again and again for comfort. And then there are those that I really respect, such as the Chronicle of the One. But this trilogy I respect and admire and love deeply. It just really resonates with me. And I can’t believe I’ve never reviewed it!
Our story begins with three very different women from the same small town being invited to a mysterious mansion on a dark and stormy night. There they are given a quest of mythic proportions: find three keys to free the souls of three demigoddesses over the course of three months, and each woman will win a million dollars. But, of course, there are stakes. Should they accept the quest but fail to deliver, they will each lose an undisclosed year of their lives. The women, Mallory, Dana, and Zoe, must believe in the seemingly impossible and band together in order to complete their task and win the prize.
This second installment is Dana’s story, and she is the Nora Roberts heroine who, throughout her entire body of work, I relate to the most. Dana is obsessed with books in the same way I am. Consider the quotes below:
“She surrounded herself with books at work and at home. Her living space was a testament to her first and abiding love with shelves jammed with books tables crowded with them. She saw them not only as knowledge entertainment comfort even sanity but as a kind of artful decoration. ”
“...If I don't have twenty or thirty books right here, waiting to be read, I start jonesing. That's my compulsion.”
I would say I need to have ten times that amount waiting to be read for the first time, but otherwise Dana and I are in total agreement. She has a book for every occasion, and that makes her a kindred spirit for me. Then there’s Jordan, her brother’s best friend and her first love, who left her to pursue his writing career. He’s back, and he’s still gorgeous. And she’s still royally pissed at him. But he’s grown a lot, and so has she. They have to find new footing together as the gang continues their search for the second key. Dana’s key.
I love how Nora writes Dana’s love for books, as well as Jordan’s passion for penning them. There is an enormous love of story permeating this entire installment, which is why it is my favorite of the three, though every single one of them is a 5 star book for me. The second-chance romance is wonderful, as is the character development from not only Dana and Jordan, but from all six of our main characters. The search for the key is compelling, and the tense climax of this book is my favorite in the series. And then there’s the library at the end. It’s truly what dreams are made of.
I also love the friendship between Mallory, Dana, and Zoe. I also absolutely adore the business venture they embark upon together in the form of Indulgence, a combination art gallery, bookstore, and salon. It just sounds incredible, and is the fictional shop I have daydreamed about the most in my life. One of Nora’s strengths as a writer is her easy way with poetic descriptions of places, and that is on brilliant display in this trilogy, not only in Indulgence, but in the houses of our various characters as well as Warrior’s Peak, the aforementioned mysterious mansion. Nora paints beautiful pictures with her words here.
While I’m sure there are plenty of legitimate critiques that could be made of this book and the rest of the trilogy, I have no notes for this story. It’s an incredibly subjective 5 stars. I just love the Key trilogy so much. It’s something I can sink back into anytime I need something cozy, and it’s a story that I think about frequently. If you’ve ever thought about reading a Nora Roberts trilogy but didn’t know which one to try first, start here!...more
If Nora Roberts is my ultimate comfort author (which she is), then this trilogy is my ultimate comfort trilogy. Of the dozens of trilogies and quartetIf Nora Roberts is my ultimate comfort author (which she is), then this trilogy is my ultimate comfort trilogy. Of the dozens of trilogies and quartets I’ve read from her, the Key trilogy is my favorite. There are others that I love, that I also return to again and again for comfort. And then there are those that I really respect, such as the Chronicle of the One. But this trilogy I respect and admire and love deeply. It just really resonates with me. And I can’t believe I’ve never reviewed it!
Our story begins with three very different women from the same small town being invited to a mysterious mansion on a dark and stormy night. There they are given a quest of mythic proportions: find three keys to free the souls of three demigoddesses over the course of three months, and each woman will win a million dollars. But, of course, there are stakes. Should they accept the quest but fail to deliver, they will each lose an undisclosed year of their lives. The women, Mallory, Dana, and Zoe, must believe in the seemingly impossible and band together in order to complete their task and win the prize.
Our main character of this first book is Mallory, an art dealer with the heart and soul of an artist who has always mourned the fact that she doesn’t have the gift to produce great art herself. But she takes her love for art and shares it with the world in a different way, helping others find the art that speaks to them. I love the way Nora describes art. The power of it. The making of it. The love of it. She’s had many novels featuring artists and those who work with art, and I’m always wowed by the way she weaves the love her characters feel for art, and the magic of the art itself, into her stories.
As with all of Nora’s books, there is a strong romantic element. The romantic interest in this book is Flynn, a reporter running the town’s only newspaper. He and his big mutt, Moe, don’t sweep Mallory off her feet as much as literally knock them out from under her on their first meeting. Both Flynn and Moe are charming and brimming with personality, but it takes Mallory a while to warm up to them. When she does, she falls hard. And fast. I really like the progression of their relationship, and their dynamic with one another. They just click.
I also love the friendship that buds between Mallory, Dana, and Zoe. I also absolutely adore the business venture they embark upon together in the form of Indulgence, a combination art gallery, bookstore, and salon. It just sounds incredible, and is the fictional shop I have daydreamed about the most in my life. One of Nora’s strengths as a writer is her easy way with poetic descriptions of places, and that is on brilliant display in this trilogy, not only in Indulgence, but in the houses of our various characters as well as Warrior’s Peak, the aforementioned mysterious mansion. Nora paints beautiful pictures with her words here.
While I’m sure there are plenty of legitimate critiques that could be made of this book and the rest of the trilogy, I have no notes for this story. It’s an incredibly subjective 5 stars. I just love the Key trilogy so much. It’s something I can sink back into anytime I need something cozy, and it’s a story that I think about frequently. If you’ve ever thought about reading a Nora Roberts trilogy but didn’t know which one to try first, start here!...more
I’ve always loved Narnia. It’s one of the most magical worlds every created, and it has captivated my imagination since I first met Aslan in elementarI’ve always loved Narnia. It’s one of the most magical worlds every created, and it has captivated my imagination since I first met Aslan in elementary school. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve revisited that world, whether through rereading the entire series or dipping my toes back into a single book. But I would be lying if I didn’t confess that there are portions of the books that I’ve never quite understood. I could grasp why Father Christmas visited Narnia, even if there was no Christ or Nativity in Narnia; it demonstrated the passing of the White Witch’s tyranny. And yet, his presence still threw me. But not nearly as much as the presence of Bacchus in Prince Caspian, or Father Time in The Last Battle, or a host of other small inclusions in the series as a whole. If Narnia is about Jesus, as Lewis stated, how did these others fit in?
“There is a spirit linking all these different things just as in the real world the Spirit of Christ is to be seen both in the Creator and in His creation.”
“We “enjoy” the heavenly atmosphere in each book—breathing it, smelling it, tasting it, allowing it to fill and inform our whole imaginative experience.”
When I was rereading Narnia at the end of 2023, I was listening to the C.S. Lewis Book Club Podcast alongside it. They kept mentioning a book called Planet Narnia, and how the findings of Michael Ward shed so much light on the series. The Narnia Code is a shorter, tighter version of that book. Scholars had for years been searching for what bound the seven Narnia books together, outside of just the setting. There was obviously some through-line, something binding everything together. We feel that when we read it. And yet, no one was ever able to put their finger on it. It wasn’t the seven deadly sins, or the seven virtues, or anything else linked to the number seven. Or so we thought, until Michael stumbled upon the answer.
“If we don’t understand where we have come from, we won’t really understand where we are or where we’re going. It’s vital to keep alive a knowledge of old ways of thinking in order to keep fully alive our present way of thinking.”
Lewis loved medieval cosmology. While he didn’t believe that the universe was physically set up that way, since science had proved otherwise, he loved the depth of meaning attached to the heavenly bodies in pre-Copernican cosmology. At that point in time, we believed that the Earth was fixed in place, and that celestial bodies revolved around us. These seven bodies, the only ones knows at the time, were: Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, and Saturn. Each of these celestial bodies were given a host of attributes, and those attributes were on display in those born under each body, or those under its influence at any given time.
“Modern science tends to think in terms of matter and mechanism and measurements. But pre-Copernican science tended to think also in terms of purposes and points and persons. Lewis thought it was a mistake to allow the two sets of quests to get split apart from each other. To be fully human we need to ask and try to answer both sets of questions, not just one set.”
This belief might be outdated, but it was rich in meaning. Lewis was fascinated by it, and wove it into every aspect of Narnia. Each book corresponds to a different celestial body, and shows some different facet of Aslan’s character. We see Him, and thus Jesus, as King, Commander, Light, Mirror, Word, Life, and Mystery.
“By using more than one image for God, we remind ourselves that any image is only temporary; it must be corrected and relieved by other images. These images serve our minds; they do not save our souls. A fork is not food.”
Which book corresponds to which planet? That’s what this book is about, and it brought so much rich insight and clarity to the entire series for me. I loved my time with The Narnia Code, and I don’t want to spoil the joy of discovery for anyone else. It’s absolutely worth reading. And it will make you fall in love with Narnia all over again. If you want to discover these insights for yourself, stop reading here. But if you want to know these links without experiencing the book for yourself, I’ll end this review with Ward’s seven point summary:
“In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the children become kings and queens under the royal crown of Jupiter. In Prince Caspian, they become knights and forest folk under the wooden shield of Mars. In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, they drink light and slay dragons under the Sun’s golden embrace. In The Silver Chair, they avoid lunacy and reflect truth beneath the mirroring Moon. In The Horse and His Boy, they learn true speech under the living and active word of Mercury. In The Magician’s Nephew, they witness creation, laugh, and learn to love the Morning Star (Venus). And in The Last Battle, under Saturn’s awful and awe-full influence, they learn the final lesson: ‘Blessed are those who die in the Lord.’”
I received a copy of this novel from the publisher, Orbit Books, in exchange for an honest review.
Ithaca was one of my favorite books of 2022. HoweverI received a copy of this novel from the publisher, Orbit Books, in exchange for an honest review.
Ithaca was one of my favorite books of 2022. However, I was thrown at the end of the book when I discovered that, unlike most Greek myth retellings, it was not a standalone novel but the first of a trilogy. I have been eagerly awaiting House of Odysseus since finishing those final pages of Ithaca, and am thrilled to announce that it lived up to its predecessor in every single way. This series follows the story of Penelope during the 20 year absence of her husband, King Odysseus of Ithaca. Ithaca presents this story from the perspective of Hera, Queen of Queens, as she observes what’s going on in Penelope’s life and how those happens overlap with the last days of Clytemnestra, Hera’s darling. House of Odysseus picks up where Ithaca left off, but now from the perspective of Aphrodite as her favorite, Helen, weaves her way back into Penelope’s story.
Aphrodite is generally portrayed as conniving and cruel, wielding love as a weapon. In House of Odysseus, she knows that she is viewed as such, but within her mind we see that she does truly find something to love about everyone. It’s sweet and lovely and more than a little sad, as she holds so much love inside herself so as not to make others feel more uncomfortable around her than they are already. I’ve never been a fan of Aphrodite, but this book softened my heart toward her in exactly the same way Ithaca softened me toward Hera. North has a gift here, of bringing dimension and sympathy to classical characters.
She also has a fabulous voice to here writing, including a knack for finding a balance between a classical feel and a slightly irreverent tone. I love her writing in this series so much. It is deft and clever and, again, impeccably balanced. It harkens back to its source material while also feeling fresh and vibrant and original. There’s a lot of depth here, and some truly inspiring speeches. There is a very compelling mystery and some serious tension to the plot and pacing. But the story never feels heavy, even though it quite easily could. The characters are compelling and multifaceted, and North did a wonderful job of making me care about them.
This is also hands down one of the most feminist works I’ve ever read. I’ve loved the recent trend of taking such classic, masculine myths and examining the women of those tales, giving them voice and agency for the first time in millennia. Works like Circe and Stone Blind and Clytemnestra have done this beautifully, with power and poignancy. But the Songs of Penelope series has done this with a broader scope, showing the vitality of an entire island of women instead of a select handful or a single woman. I love that it has also included the major goddesses, Hera and Aphrodite, Athena and Artemis, giving more dimension to these deities, as well. And our titular queen, Penelope, is more than a match for her wily husband. Reading about her cleverness has been a joy.
I loved everything about House of Odysseus, and will be counting down the days until the final installment is released. The Last Song of Penelope promises to be an absolutely fantastic finale, if it lives up to its two predecessors. And if it does, this will become my favorite historical trilogy of all time, and quite likely my favorite Greek myth retelling. Which is really saying something, as that’s one of my favorite subgenres. North has done something really special with this series, and I can’t wait to see how the story ends....more
I think that Mere Christianity is one of the most important books of the twentieth century, both for those who follow Christ and for those who do not,I think that Mere Christianity is one of the most important books of the twentieth century, both for those who follow Christ and for those who do not, but who have questions. This book has done more for my own understanding of what I believe and why I believe it than any other book outside of the Bible itself. It’s a brilliant work of philosophy, theology, and apologetics. I’ve read this book 4 times now, and it never fails to reveal something new to me and help me to grow in some way.
This essay collection, all focussed around Christianity, began as fireside radio chats Lewis gave in 1942. The way Lewis starts out with the broadest questions, those about the existence of a Creator and morality and time, and narrows his scope down to the internal changes in behavior and views a Christian undergoes as he draws closer to that Creator, feels like the most natural progression in the world. While very much a work of apologetics, nothing within this book ever comes across as preachy. Instead, Lewis presents his arguments much as lectures from teacher to student. You might disagree, but you will go away thinking.
If you’re a Christian who doesn’t know exactly how to defend your own faith, who might know what you believe but questions why you believe certain things, I can’t recommend this book highly enough. And if you’re not a Christian, but you have questions about what Christians believe and why Jesus matters, this is a wonderful place to find some answers. It’s timeless....more
I adore classic children’s books. I’ve inhaled them since my mom taught me to read when I was four. If I could get my hands on it, I read it. A LittleI adore classic children’s books. I’ve inhaled them since my mom taught me to read when I was four. If I could get my hands on it, I read it. A Little Princess, The Boxcar Children, Heidi, The Secret Garden, A Wrinkle in Time, The Chronicles of Narnia, Gulliver’s Travels, and The Swiss Family Robinson were all early favorites. And yet, a lot of others slipped through the cracks of my childhood without my having met them. There are too many wonderful stories in the world to ever hope to read them all. But I’m slowly trying to cover all the ground I can. For instance, I didn’t meet Anne Shirley of Green Gables, or Laura Ingalls from the Little House on the Prairie, until I was an adult. Yet I loved them no less for the belated introductions. I can now add Elizabeth Ann to the roster.
I’ve seen the title Understood Betsy plenty of times. A copy has even resided on my bookshelf for a few years. But I can’t say the premise ever really drew me in. For some reason I decided on a whim to pick this up, and I couldn’t have been more surprised and delighted. The surface premise isn’t exactly unique; a pampered, coddled city girl finds herself forced to live with a country branch of her family for whatever reason. But the telling of the story in this case was wonderful. Something in the writing style was just pure magic, a joy to read alone and surely an even greater one to read aloud. The cadence of prose lilts and meanders beautifully The personality of the near-omniscient narrator shines through and adds an extra element of fun and charm to the story. And the love the dreaded “Putney cousins” feel for Betsy, as they call her, just blazes from the page. Life on their farm is quaint and cozy. And the way Betsy grows and blossoms over the course of her story is truly lovely.
Understood Betsy is one of those rare perfect books. There’s not a single thing about it I would change, unless it was to give it a sequel, just so I could have more time with Betsy and Cousin Ann and Aunt Abigail and Uncle Henry. This is a book that anyone could love, no matter their age, and it’s one that I definitely plan to reread often....more
July 2024: Rereading this a year later was just as wonderful as my first time through it. I stand by everything I said below!
Original September 2023 rJuly 2024: Rereading this a year later was just as wonderful as my first time through it. I stand by everything I said below!
Original September 2023 review:
I always get so excited when a new Nora Roberts series is announced. I love her standalones. I love her J.D. Robb series, following murder cop Eve Dallas in the late 2050s and 2060s. But her trilogies and quartets are the stories I truly sink into the most. While I have loved her last couple of trilogies, where she was doing new and exciting things outside of her norm by going more fantasy-heavy, I was also excited to hear that she would be going back to her roots, so to speak, with her newest offering, The Lost Bride Trilogy. Firmly rooted in reality with a healthy dash of the supernatural, it’s a romance and a mystery and, if Inheritance is any indication, a compulsively rereadable story that is going to stick with readers long after they read the final pages.
In Inheritance we meet Sonya right as her life comes crashing down around her ears. She comes home to find her fiancé in bed with her cousin. To make matters worse, said (now former) fiancé works in the same office as Sonya and embarks upon making her life a living hell after she refuses to see reason and forgive him for “slipping.” But when a cliché in the form of a long lost, wealthy, recently deceased uncle falls in Sonya’s lap, leaving her his (their) family home, a mansion by the sea, Sonya embarks on the adventure of a lifetime. The house is perfect. And very, very haunted. But with the support of her wonderful mother, her best friend Cleo, and the new friends she makes in her new town, Sonya is determined to make this manor her home. Most of the ghosts are happy to have her. But one will stop at nothing to drive her out.
There is a very compelling mystery at the heart of the story, that of the Lost Brides of the manor. Seven brides have died in the house within the first year of their marriages, multiple on the actual day of their weddings. A bride per generation. The ghosts of brides and their killer reside in the house, alongside who knows how many others. And yet, most of these ghosts are fairly cheerful. My favorite is one who plays DJ, always playing just exactly the right song for the moment through Sonya’s phone or tablet. That addition brought me joy all the way through the book. As did the manor itself. It’s a house with a ton of character and charm and hidden depths, with just the right amount of creep factor. I could happily live in that library.
The characters here are wonderful, as always. I love the chemistry between our main character and her love interest. I love the family dynamics of Sonya and her mother, as well as those of the Doyle family of lawyers who brought Sonya to her new home. I adore the friendship between Sonya and Cleo, who won me over immediately as a fellow Louisiana native. And then there are the dogs. There are three dogs in this book, and all three are wonderful. Nora has a way with dogs, and hers always seem like characters in their own right.
What I didn’t love as much was the cliffhanger ending. Strangely, while the two stories have very little in common, Inheritance had almost exactly the same ending as The Awakening, book 1 of her last trilogy. It’s a striking ending, but it’s a frustrating place to wait for over a year until I can get the second installment in my hands. But other than that, there’s not a thing I would change about this book. It was absolutely fantastic, and I seriously cannot wait to find out what happens next....more
I’ve had a copy of this book on my bookshelf for years. Conroy is often on lists of modern classics, so I have his books shelved next to Barbara KingsI’ve had a copy of this book on my bookshelf for years. Conroy is often on lists of modern classics, so I have his books shelved next to Barbara Kingsolver and Larry McMurtry and Rosalinde Pilcher, all of whom are also unread. The only reason I decided to pick this up is that a wonderful Goodreads friend, Caleb, messaged me a personal recommendation for it. I’m so incredibly glad he did, because an 800 page Southern family drama written in the 1990s would not have been anywhere close to my immediate choice for a next read. And I would have been missing out.
This book should feel bloated, with its length and slow pace. And yet, I found myself hanging on every word. I was enthralled by this tale of a Southern man, a family, a town, a history inspiring both pride and shame. I was often completely surprised by turns the story took. These people and these places felt incredibly real to me. The scope and span were incredibly impressive, covering everything from the Holocaust to the Vietnam War and beyond. But at its core, this is a coming-of-age story, and one of the best I’ve ever read. It’s the story of a fantastic friendship and what happened to shatter it.
The plotting and breadth of story and character development were all stellar, as was the pacing and the writing itself and the strong sense of place evoked by that writing. I feel like an entire semester-long writing course could be taught with Beach Music as its sole textbook. It’s a masterclass in craft. I was just so incredibly impressed by it, that I couldn’t give it less than 5 stars. It made me nostalgic for a time and place I’ve never known, and for people who don’t even exist. This book is the epitome of a modern classic....more
I went into Thank You for Listening with such hesitancy. I thought the premise sounded fun, and my mom had already read it and loved it. So why was I I went into Thank You for Listening with such hesitancy. I thought the premise sounded fun, and my mom had already read it and loved it. So why was I nervous to pick it up? Whelan is my favorite female audiobook narrator, and there is something about approaching a beloved artist through a new medium that inspires trepidation, at least for me. What if this person whose art I adore in a particular medium is less gifted in another? Will that adversely impact my experience with them in the art of theirs I already love? Those are the questions that run through my mind, but I needn’t have feared when it came to Whelan; it turns out she’s just as fantastic an author as she is a narrator.
Whelan’s writing is wonderful, brimming with charm and wit. She spins a layered, multifaceted story that touches on a plethora of deep topics. And she doesn’t skate the surface; she delves. I went in expected/hoping for a cute romance that offered some insight into the world of audiobook narration. I definitely got those things in spades, with strong helpings of humor and angst and an almost meta self-awareness. But there was also discourse on the abiding, residual emotional trauma of accident-induced deformity, long after the physical wounds become scars. We watch the horrors of evolving dementia and witness the callousness of Hollywood. It’s an incredibly insightful book.
But I would be lying if I didn’t confess that the romance was the absolute star of the show for me. I loved watching that relationship bloom, and I really appreciated Whelan’s use of common romance tropes as well as her characters’ self-awareness of them. This book to me approached romance in the same way Austen approached gothic fiction in Northanger Abbey; it is both commentary on and love letter to the genre. Also, the love interest is incredibly hot on multiple levels. There was an epistolary portion of the book, and the relationship, that was simply delightful.
Whelan also did a brilliant job on the narration. I stated above that she is my favorite female audiobook narrator, but there was something incredibly special about hearing her read her own work. She gave herself so much room to shine here, and shine she did. I also really loved the peak behind the curtain we were offered into the audiobook world. I’ve come to love audiobooks over the past few years, so this was one of my favorite aspects of the book.
It’s been a while since I had a book that was an easy 5 stars. No waffling on the rating. No notes. Nothing I would change. This is one of those books. Had I owned a physical copy, I would have hugged it after finishing the final pages. I just loved every single thing about it. I’ll be buying myself a copy for my shelf, though I highly recommend consuming the audiobook of this one. I’m eager to read Whelan’s debut, My Oxford Year, as well as any and everything else she writes in the future....more
“Every fairy tale has blood flecked on its muzzle.”
I’ve been really interested in The Last Tale of the Flower Bride since I first heard that it was a “Every fairy tale has blood flecked on its muzzle.”
I’ve been really interested in The Last Tale of the Flower Bride since I first heard that it was a gender bent Bluebeard retelling. That concept intrigued me, as I’ve always be fairly fascinated by that particular fairytale. When I finally got my hands on the book (and my ears on it, thanks to Libro.fm’s influencer program) it was actually far different that whatever I was expecting. So different, in fact, that I was originally very conflicted about it. I was repelled by the person who seemed like the central character, and judgmental of those who had allowed themselves to fall under her spell. But I was also deeply invested in these two perspective characters, and completely captivated by the writing.
The prose here is among the most beautiful I’ve ever experienced. The writing is lush and decadent and almost erotic, like the caress of crushed velvet against bare skin. It’s almost too pretty, bordering on purple, but that seemed to work well for the story. The stunning storytelling, mixed with the dark story being told, brought to mind Pan’s Labyrinth. That’s honestly the best comparison I can draw. Both stories are dark and tragic but oddly beautiful all the same.
I originally felt like the relationships in this book were all a bit toxic, and too dark, but that was the point, which became clearer to me the further into the book I read. This story showcases the dangers of co-dependency, of allowing yourself to be entranced by darkness and then compelled to remain in it. It showcases abuse in interesting ways, specifically with gaslighting and sabotage in order to ensure that the abuser remains the only refuge of the abused, and that there is no trustworthy means of escape. We are shown how poisonous love can be when mingled with obsession, possessiveness, and madness.
This story also showcases how poisonous imagination can be if not tempered with reality. Can you cling so tightly to your dreams that you miss out on everything else life might have for you? The answer is yes. All of the fantastical elements of this tale seem directly linked to the characters’ desire to experience the fantastic, which left me questioning whether all of the magic in the story was solely in the minds of those experiencing it. How much of the magic here is real, and how much is simply tricks of the minds that desire so strongly to be tricked?
I ended up loving The Last Tale of the Flower Bride in ways that I would never have guessed when I first flipped open its pages. It’s one of the most beautifully written stories I’ve experienced, and it was far deeper and more philosophical than it appears on the surface. This is the gnarled underbelly of a fairytale, and exposition of the dangers of living in dreams. It’s an exploration of abusive relationships that we wouldn’t view as abusive on the surface, and an exposure of madness that masquerades as imagination. It’s ugly in very purposeful ways. It’s terribly tragic and cautiously hopeful. I absolutely loved it, and can guarantee that I’ll be revisiting it. I’m already excited to dig into Chokshi’s back catalogue, but I don’t know that it will hold a candle to this decadent, decaying Gothic fairytale....more
I don't usually review short stories individually, but I adored this one so much that I want it to be part Exquisite. Poetic, heartbreaking, empowerinI don't usually review short stories individually, but I adored this one so much that I want it to be part Exquisite. Poetic, heartbreaking, empowering, and thought-provoking. Deeply moving and lastingly impactful. Without a doubt my favorite in the collection.
I don't usually review short stories individually, but I adored this one so much that I want it to be part of my reading record. I read the entire collection of seven short stories in a single day, but this one was far and above the best. The others all ranged from fine to good, and none of them were boring, but this one is something special.
While I think every story in the collection is worth reading in at least some way, “The Six Deaths of the Saint” is truly something special. It was the shortest story in the collection and by far the most powerful. It’s one of the best short stories I’ve ever read, and I wish there was a way I could get my hands on a physical copy. It’s something that I desperately want on my bookshelf so I can return to it again and again and physically press it into the hands of those I love....more
I have a weakness for mythological retellings, particularly when it comes to Greek myth. This is one of my favorite little niche subgenres, which meanI have a weakness for mythological retellings, particularly when it comes to Greek myth. This is one of my favorite little niche subgenres, which means that I get very excited over new offerings while also being easily disappointed by them. It turns out I’ve been looking for one specific type without being able to properly verbalize what that type might be. I found it. Natalie Haynes’ Stone Blind is the perfect blend of historical and fantastic. This is a very feminist retelling, lacing the story with righteous anger and snark and sorrow in near equal measure. The structure of the story, and the varying tones and perspectives through which it is being told, is incredibly compelling. Stone Blind is a brilliant retelling and reshaping of Medusa’s story, and there’s not a single thing I would change about it.
While the story of Medusa is obviously a sad one, I was pleasantly surprised by how much humor and sarcasm Haynes wove into the story. The tone here is more akin to Claire North’s Ithaca than to the works of Madeline Miller or Jennifer Saint. Though conveying a story that is often stressful and tragic, there’s a sass and level of sarcasm to the telling of it that is delightful. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, but it also doesn’t belittle the more tragic elements. There were portions of the story, specifically of Perseus while on his quest, that made me actually laugh out loud. Whichever tone Haynes reached for, she conveyed perfectly. The writing was simply exquisite.
Speaking of Perseus, I love this trend of taking heroes of old and shoving them into harsher, less flattering light. Perseus in this story is portrayed as selfish, entitled, and a coward at the core, only able to accomplish works of greatness because of the tools he is given by the gods. As I’ve always thought his attack on Medusa, after she had already been raped by one god and cursed by another, was akin to kicking a puppy (though admittedly a highly deadly one), I really liked this shift in his portrayal. I also love the discourse on what makes a monster, and how wrong we as humans often get the answer. The relationship between Medusa and her Gorgon sisters was a beautiful one, the warmest and softest element of the story.
I tandem read the physical book and the audio, which was read by the author. I don’t always love author narrations, but Haynes is a brilliant narrator with a beautiful voice. The audio for this was absolutely impeccable, and in my opinion improved upon the story. Hearing Haynes’ portrayal of these perspectives was wonderful, but my very favorite element of the audio was how it allowed Haynes to showcase the particularly snarky passages. Witnessing that tone on both paper and audio sharpened the wit.
I loved everything about Stone Blind. It’s a beautifully balanced mythological retelling that manages to feel like a fresh take on a timeless tale while also choosing to not shy away from the more magical elements. This reminded me of sitting down with big books of mythology when I was a child, but if I had magically been given the “true story” by one of the figures involved. It was entrancing and entertaining while also filling me with rage and sorrow. Any time such a well-known story can told in a way that elicits such powerful emotions in the reader, the author has achieved something truly special. ...more
I received an advance digital copy of this novel from the publisher, St. Martin’s Press, via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
"No two perso
I received an advance digital copy of this novel from the publisher, St. Martin’s Press, via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
"No two persons ever read the same book or saw the same pictures." The Writings of Madame Swetchine, 1860
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I’ve read plenty of books that made my heart ache, but very few that made my heart feel seen. There is something remarkably soothing about No Two Persons, this quiet novel told in vignettes. From beginning to end, one thought rang in me, heart, mind, and soul: “Ah. There you are.” I can’t articulate how it made me feel. The feeling it inspired isn’t big or showy, but it’s a feeling I’ve been seeking my entire life. Whatever that feeling may be, I’m incredibly thankful to have experienced it. And I hope other readers will have the same healing, soothing, quiet experience of being seen by what you love.
“I think each story has its own life. In the beginning, it lives in the writer’s mind, and it grows and changes while it’s there. Changes the writer, too, I’d bet… At some point it’s written down, and that’s the book readers hold in their hands. But the story isn’t done, because it goes on the live in the readers’ heads, in a way that’s particular to each of them. We’re all caretakers of the stories, Alice. Writers are just the lucky ones that get to know them first.”
The storytelling here is exceptional, and feels very unique. We follow a different person in each chapter, who are only bound together by their experience with a particular book, Theo, penned by the first character we meet. I would have bought this entire book for that first section alone, which said some brilliant things about stories and storytelling. But each perspective with engaging and insightful, and I was blown away by how brilliantly drawn and lifelike I found each of these individuals. And even though these characters are all radically different in every way, there began to be surprising connections between them further into the book. The story is a tapestry, tying the characters together in interesting, sometimes cyclical ways. Not only are there shared experiences between these characters and the titular character of the book that binds them, but some of them actually impact the story of another in small, unexpected, meaningful ways.
“Sometimes what she wrote felt more real than truth. But maybe that’s what writing was, in the end—a way to get to the bedrock, the oxygen. To search out the possible.”
I love books that make me feel, and this book definitely made me feel things. I wanted nothing more than to reach into the book and pull out my own copy of Theo, to see how the story that was so impactful for these characters might also impact me. I also love how the title comes into play, how no two of these characters experience Theo the same way or draw the same things from its pages. But not one of them is left unchanged by it.
“Wandering is a gift given only to the lost.”
“Inspiration. Because wasn’t that what art was all about, in the end? Mentally shoplifting your way through the world around you, the thoughts inside you? Looking for the thing that makes it all click. Makes it all start. Makes it all worthwhile and whole and good again. That could take a while. You might have to wander, but that didn’t mean you were lost.”
This is exactly what I’m always subconsciously hoping to find whenever I pick up a book about books. No Two Persons is all about the power of story to reveal and connect and heal, and how that journey can be radically different for each person who picks up the same book. And that emphasis on the importance of story, particular this one specific story, is the binding element of the entire work. Some books proclaim themselves to be a “love letter to book lovers” or an “ode to the power of story,” but they almost without fail forsake that promise as the plot takes over. Not so with No Two Persons. The book within this book is the plot, and nothing ever usurps it. Because it’s a quiet, thoughtful, meditative work, I don’t know that it will sing into the soul of every reader as it did mine. But that’s the entire point of the story here. No two persons ever read the same book in the same way. I’m just incredibly thankful to have experienced it in the way that I did. It’s my favorite book I’ve read all year....more
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