Anna Faúndez

Tag: fantasy

  • The Sweet Far Thing

    The Sweet Far Thing

    The Gemma Doyle Trilogy

    By Libba Bray

    Gemma Doyle drove me up the wall with her indecisiveness in The Sweet Far Thing. This book is over 800 pages. It didn’t need to be. There are a fair few subplots that simply didn’t need to be there, and Gemma spends an ungodly amount of time doing the “Will I? Won’t I? Should I?” in regard to what to do with the magic in the realms. As an editor, I wanted to get my hands on the author and help them tighten up their manuscript.

    Another thing that bothered me somewhat in The Sweet Far Thing was how Pippa and Felicity’s relationship was handled. No, it didn’t particularly feel like an unnatural progression, but I also got the distinct feeling that the girls’ relationship was forced into the narrative through flashback and an outside character going, “Oh.” I have a few reasons I think this may have actually been the case. And these girls deserved more than being an afterthought.

    1) Felicity didn’t want to marry. Okay, fine, but you don’t have to be gay to not want a marriage and desire to live your life freely.

    2) Felicity was always freer with her body and more confident in herself, but her desire to wear trousers and more avant-garde fashions of the late 1890s was something completely new in The Sweet Far Thing, and it mostly came off as part of Felicity’s admittedly rebellious nature instead of a true want or need to be happy and herself.

    3) Pippa very specifically dreamed of a knight in shining armor to marry her and sweep her away.

    4) Felicity has been with at least one man already. Yes, she could easily be bisexual (or any other sexuality attracted to more than one sex) but because Felicity and Pippa show nothing anywhere close to the type of relationship Felicity has shared with others, their kiss feels false. Not like a “forbidden love” and more like the afterthought it is by the author.

    The ending is . . . something else. I didn’t dislike it, but Gemma suddenly speaking up for herself and her entire family simply allowing it doesn’t feel genuine. I wanted her to fight for what she wanted. She’d done her fight and growing up in the realms—more or less—and now it’s time for her to go back to her real life and fight there, too, but with confidence this time. Felicity and Ann both find a path toward the lives they want, so their stories are neatly tied with a bow as well.

    The conclusion in the realms was about what I expected; Bray wasn’t showing signs of letting Kartik and Gemma be happy together, so I figured she’d off one of them. I found her method of doing so a little odd, but not unreasonable given the genre. However, the moment Kartik and Gemma share in the realms is heart-wrenchingly beautiful and very well written. It felt like a last bastion of hope before the coming war, swimming with possibility without the interference of fate. Alas.

    Which leads me to the last thing: I still enjoy Libba Bray’s writing style, and I’d like to see more of it in the future. Did The Sweet Far Thing need more work before hitting the shelves? Yes, I believe it did. Was this a terrible book that should never see the light of day? No. Is this book one I’m okay with shelving or handing off to the next reader? Yes.

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 24)

  • Rebel Angels

    Rebel Angels

    The Gemma Doyle Trilogy

    By Libba Bray

    Book two!!

    I was a little hesitant with how the book started; Kartik’s point of view wasn’t bad, but I immediately missed Gemma and hoped the book wouldn’t continue to swap between the two characters. Thankfully, it didn’t! We get Kartik’s motives right out the gate, and then we hop straight back to Gemma, Felicity, and Ann for good.

    Rebel Angels focuses on a lot of the same themes that A Great and Terrible Beauty did: fate, change, and control. However, since the main plot is ongoing at this point, I was appreciative of that, because those themes are necessary for ongoing character growth. This book begins in December of 1895, so it takes place very soon after the end of the first book. One thing I was a little disappointed with was the lack of the realms in Rebel Angels. A lot of the book takes place in London with drama between Gemma and a new love interest. There’s some extra drama involving Ann and a lie, but honestly, the plot felt it dragged somewhat. Gemma runs around thinking she’s got everything figured out, which she obviously does not, and then seems surprised when things don’t go her way.

    Kartik’s obvious jealousy of Gemma’s beau is a little funny. Gemma is sardonic as ever. Felicity has seen very little change at this point. And Ann seems to finally be coming into her own. At the very least, Ann’s confidence rises throughout Rebel Angels even if her situation is a pretense. The confidence is genuine all the same.

    But there were two things that made question marks appear above my head for Rebel Angels.

    One was Ann and how her self-harm was handled. Rather, not handled. At first, it’s implied that once she felt she had friends, Ann’s tendency to self-harm went away. When Gemma notices it again, she basically tells her, “Hey, promise me you’ll stop that,” and it’s literally never brought up again. “Ever!?” you say. Ever. Yes, this is Victorian England, but if Gemma was “brave enough” to mention it to Ann at all, she’d be much more likely to check in on someone she seems to think of as a friend. At least sometimes, right? Nope.

    The other issue I had with Rebel Angels was the assault Gemma suffered. The book breezes right by it, like since Gemma wasn’t technically raped, it shouldn’t matter. Wrong. It matters and would absolutely be a source of trauma! Magic vision in the middle, coerced to drink, and alone with someone she thought she could trust aside, this would be a hugely traumatic event in Gemma’s life. While I agree it’s highly unlikely she’d ever bring this up to her family or friends for fear of being “ruined,” Gemma doesn’t even think about it. For a character that has, up to this point, been very internally driven and unable to suppress her emotions, it’s weird.

    Overall, I didn’t hate Rebel Angels. I liked the pacing and story more for book one, but the second book was interesting enough that I finished it within a couple days. I think, at this moment, one of the girls’ teachers is my favorite character, and I’m very, very interested to find out more of what’s happening to Pippa in the realms. There are just a few mysteries left to be solved, but Rebel Angels actually wraps up the main story that A Great and Terrible Beauty began. But there’s one book left! What else could possibly happen? Let’s see how it all ends.

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 23)

  • A Great and Terrible Beauty

    A Great and Terrible Beauty

    The Gemma Doyle Trilogy

    By Libba Bray

    I’ve had this book on my shelf for over a decade, and I am so sad I didn’t pick it up until now. A Great and Terrible Beauty is many of my favorite things in one pretty package: historical fiction, fantasy, and young girls finding out who they want to be. I read the entire series in just a few days, which means I’m having to backtrack to write these reviews. I regret that a little, but I just couldn’t put the books down!

    I actually have very few complaints about this book. Gemma, the main character, is fun to follow, and I love her inner dialogue; she’s sarcastic and witty in equal measure. I found myself laughing a few times while reading! Each character in A Great and Terrible Beauty has a distinct personality and motivation. And they clash! Even the main four girls have conflict between each other frequently, which is something I really appreciate in books because it cultivates character growth or, at the very least, understanding. There’s some wonderfully written tension between Gemma and Kartik too. No, really, it’s great. (And it gets better in the next couple books.)

    Bray deals with the Victorian era rather well. Most of the girls in the story are worried about their futures in relation to making a good marriage. Some girls are happy with that. Some are ambivalent. Some don’t care. And some are actively hostile toward the prospect. Pippa, one of my favorite characters, wants to marry for love and is instead betrothed against her will. Ultimately, she makes her choice. (Guess you’ll have to read the book to find out what she decided!) Felicity doesn’t wish to be married at all! Ann would like to be swept off her feet and live a safe, stable life as a lady. Gemma doesn’t know quite what she wants yet, but she’ll figure it out eventually.

    There’s a few spaces in A Great and Terrible Beauty that have mentions of racism: one inner thought of a character not “supposed” to find someone of a certain race attractive was the one mention that really stuck out to me. Honestly, I think it wasn’t necessary in the book at all. I understand the time and place the book is set in, but the “way of the world” for the time is obvious enough through action and interaction. And for the character, it felt, well, out of character.

    A major theme in this book is control. Who has it? Who wants it? And what are these clashing parties willing to do to get it? There’s an argument for man versus woman to be made—which will come back to haunt us in book three—but A Great and Terrible Beauty mostly deals with loss. There’s so, so much loss in this book. It’s not always a bad thing, but the main characters are 16-year-old girls trying to find their place in the world and finding they have very little wiggle room.

    But on to something happier: the magic! I adore the magic system in this book. It’s a physical thing. It drains and fades. There are consequences for its use! I really enjoyed how the magic affected the girls’ mental states. It changed how they felt about their futures. About life. And that alteration caused a need for more. More power. More control. More freedom.

    I love how Libba Bray writes. Her descriptions are immersive and unique and fit the story to perfection. I didn’t notice any phrases “out of their time” either. Bray’s world is alive and full of amazing characters and conflicts. At this point, it’s obvious I recommend this book—the whole series—so what’re you waiting for? Have fun!

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 22)

  • Shadow Spinner

    Shadow Spinner

    By Susan Fletcher

    I don’t recall when I first read this book, but it was probably in 2002 or 2003. I loved it as a kid, and I love it still! I’ve always been intrigued with the story of Shahrazad and 1001 Nights and every other iteration of this tale. This particular version stuck with me through the years.

    Shadow Spinner’s crowning achievement is the ticking clock style of the book. The story is concise and interesting. Its pace is fast. And, for a kids book, it deals with some pretty heavy themes.

    The main character is disabled—a rare enough occurrence as it is in books—and the book treats the character’s disability as a normal part of life, which it is. It’s not a secret special power. It’s not a disability that ends up helping the character. In fact, the disability nearly gets her killed or caught a few times during key moments of the book.

    Also, every character deals with abuse! Shadow Spinner does not shy from this at all, and it creates a more powerful atmosphere in the book. Shahrazad deals with emotional abuse. Marjan deals with physical and emotional abuse tied with past trauma. Any woman in the harem under the Khatun’s thumb suffered, sometimes severe, physical abuse. Every woman in Shadow Spinner lives in constant fear of the Sultan and his whims. The book begins with a bloody history of the Sultan marrying a different woman every night and murdering her in the morning. (Again, heavy for a kids book.)

    With that said, I’m not in camp “forgive the Sultan just because his first wife cheated on him” like some characters who won’t be named are. I did leave the book annoyed that the Sultan suffered no real consequences for murdering an undisclosed number of women. (Yes, I know. He’s the Sultan and unlikely to suffer consequences for anything, ever.) However, the Sultan’s punishment, or lack of, is not the point of the book. It isn’t the “lesson.” The lesson lies with Marjan and her own battle with forgiveness. But I wish the parallel drawn between Marjan and the Sultan and the ability to forgive was not so stark.

    I’d still recommend this book to a reader though! My qualms with the story are not book-avoiding worthy. Maybe read it for yourself and let me know your thoughts!

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 17)

  • The Lovely Bones

    The Lovely Bones

    By Alice Sebold

    {Warnings for The Lovely Bones: sexual and physical violence}

    The Lovely Bones is about moving on, both after death and for those who are still living and have experienced a death or trauma. Its message is sound and practical, and leads with a semi-omniscient narrator, Susie. The point of the book isn’t actually the murder; it’s the after. The family. The friends. How each person deals with the trauma and how much time it takes to be “okay” again.

    I liked that aspect of the book most. Sebold does create relatable and imperfect characters who clash and grieve over long periods of time. As a reader, you get to see the little effects the death of the narrator had on the people around her.

    Truthfully though, this book wasn’t my cup of tea, and I kind of had to make myself read it at certain points. It’s the type of slower drama that also tries to be a mystery, but you have all the answers already, so there’s no real stakes.

    My biggest beef is with the ending, and it’s something I can’t make completely spoiler-free to talk about, so spoilers beyond the cut.

    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

    I want to speak for a second about unfairness: Sebold does it well. The murderer is never caught; instead, he dies by complete accident. There is no justice here. The Lovely Bones has false accusations, ostracism, unfair beatings, affairs, and abandonment. It is real, it is gritty, and it is everything Susie wants now that she’s lost it.

    But I’m not annoyed with any of that in the least. The realism of the living’s everyday is one of the only things that kept my attention while reading.

    What is rather annoying is how Susie is finally able to let go and move on to actual heaven. Of course, the entire book centers around some magical realism, but Susie is never able to change what’s happening on Earth. She can’t affect anything. She has no control. Part of her life after death is being doomed to watch but never interact; some of these instances in the book actually help Susie understand and accept her circumstances.

    The end suddenly gives her that control. In fact, Susie outright possesses another character and proceeds to use that girl’s body to have sex with her school girl crush before being pulled back to her heaven. For a character that was raped and brutally murdered, you’d think Susie would have some strong thoughts about consent. Not to mention the psychological trauma she would have from her experience. The whole set of pages in that section felt out-of-character and notably cheapens the entire novel.

    On top of that, Susie doesn’t think to use her last few hours to check on her family? Say goodbye? Tell them she’ll be okay? Sure, Susie is forever fourteen years old, but the book indicates some level of maturation after death. To see that ripped from her the second she moves back into a physical body makes no sense in that Susie herself is the same person she’s been and grown into after she died.

    In short, this book isn’t one I plan to pick up again anytime soon. Possibly ever.

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 11)

  • Sapphique

    Sapphique

    By Catherine Fisher

    Okay, so it turns out, I did read Sapphique after Incarceron as a teenager. I didn’t forget about it! I actually mixed the two books into one in my head! Personally, I call that a good thing. Fisher’s two books smooth into one another without any hiccups, and the story moves along, picking up right where Incarceron left us.

    Sapphique is much more cerebral than the thrilling Incarceron, and I enjoyed getting to know the worlds a little more through its pages. Its genre still sits well within adventure fantasy though! Fisher’s writing is exciting and tasteful.

    Most of Sapphique takes place in the outside world, and I loved getting to submerge myself in it. Claudia and Jared gave us glimpses in Incarceron, but the sequel lets us bathe in the everyday, the people who are so far past delusion they seem perfectly sane, including you as the reader! Every creeping step toward disaster in Sapphique plays an excellent role in giving off the “oh, this is not good” vibe that Fisher is clearly reaching for with each page turn.

    I think my only disappointment with Sapphique is the ending. There’s nothing wrong with it, per se, but I really wish there had been a more practical answer to the danger and threats that were weaved into both Incarceron and Sapphique. As it is, I felt a bit jilted, as though Fisher pulled half a Deus ex Machina. On top of that, it’s not explained very w

    ell how said event occurred either. Fisher created a gorgeous machine and intelligence through word and it fell flat in the conclusion.

    Does that mean I was less interested in how the book ended? Both yes and no. Yes, because it was such a letdown and left me with question marks floating above my head. No, because this event happens

    less than twenty pages before the end of the book. You think, “Okay, maybe I’ll get something better before the end, during the wrap-up.” You won’t.

    Sapphique ends on a note of “Well, what do we do now?” that many post-apocalyptic novels and movies end on. It even has a line that’s in the spirit of “Now we survive” that so many of those same novels and movies end with before the traditional fade-to-black. But what problem was solved? The problem of the prison? The outside world? Neither, if I’m being honest. Sapphique’s ending wasn’t terribly satisfying because of this.

    Part of me believes that Fisher may have hoped to write a third book for this series, but, so far, that hasn’t occurred. There’s certainly more than enough material for another book. There’s tons of room for character growth and new problems to be had!

    Join me next time as I take a sharp turn and tackle The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold!

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 10)

  • Incarceron

    Incarceron

    By Catherine Fisher

    I have so much hype for Incarceron! If I recall correctly, this was the first book I read by Fisher back when it was new in 2007 or so. I really enjoyed it then, and I have the same feeling now.

    Incarceron is fast-paced, mysterious, and kind of creepy. Of course, the first time, I thought it was quite a bit more unsettling than I did this time around, but due to reading things like Stephen King’s The Shining and ’Salem’s Lot, it didn’t quite hit the same “eek” chords.

    But some of Fisher’s descriptions in Incarceron are to die for. She does such a fabulous job of creating a strong sense of place, especially when her characters spend a lot of time in the dark. I won’t mention specifics, but it’s incredibly easy to create a story map in your head through Fisher’s words. A+ on that.

    Incarceron jumps between two points of view. One in the prison. One out. Eventually, these two points merge. The pacing of each chapter was well-in-hand, not allowing for too much of one POV before switching back to the other. It’s definitely what helped move the book along, keeping that integral string of mystery alive throughout the novel.

    Okay, fine, I have one unhappiness with Incarceron. The character, Finn. Compared to the other characters, he’s pretty weak. He doesn’t do as much thinking for himself (which sometimes makes sense in context of his character, but not always,) and he spends more time reacting to things happening to and around him than anything else. It doesn’t take away from the story, really, but it does create a sense of “eh” when Finn gets into trouble or needs saving or situations look dire. Finn only seems to have a personality adjacent to the people he’s surrounded by.

    When thinking of core character traits, I think of it like this (and this is a fabulous exercise for building your own characters): Attia? Loyal, stalwart, and observant. Keiro? Brash, selfish, and stubborn. Gildas? Determined, obsessive, and arrogant. Claudia? Calculating, passionate, and willful. Jared? Practical, introspective, and kind. But what about Finn? He’s indecisive, I’ll give him that, but that’s not really a strong character trait. Reading the list above, it should be pretty obvious what each character is generally like, how they might react to each other, and how they might respond to stress.

    Finn’s relatively weak characterization is no reason to leave Incarceron on the shelf though! It’s confusing and unique and, honestly, just a lot of fun. Even as a YA novel, it skirts many issues such as human nature, good versus evil, loyalty versus ambition, and the oldie-but-goodie: Do our memories make us who we are?

    If you’re looking for a steampunk-ish fantasy adventure, Incarceron is the book for you!

    Because I have no memory of reading (perhaps just finishing) Incarceron’s sequel, Sapphique, I’ll be reading it next to finish off the series and finally get some closure! See you next time!

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 9)

  • The Two Princesses of Bamarre

    The Two Princesses of Bamarre

    By Gail Carson Levine

    Success! I read Levine’s The Two Princesses of Bamarre in one go, and I loved it so much. It’s been over a decade since I’ve read this book, and after Just Ella, I was prepared to be a little disappointed. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, and I spent a few hours reading and thoroughly enjoying myself, happy my nostalgia wasn’t misplaced again.

    What to say first . . .

    Princess Addie, the protagonist, is a wonderful character. The best part? She’s introverted! I so rarely see introverts depicted honestly and with kindness in books, and Levine did such a nice job with Addie. This book isn’t the (incredibly annoying) depiction of “introvert somehow turns into an extrovert during the course of the story as a part of ‘character development’” either. And please, don’t confuse confidence with extroversion. Addie learns to trust herself and does gain confidence in her own abilities throughout the story, but she remains the same person: introspective, reserved, and thoughtful.

    Second best thing? The relationship! What would any children’s book for the budding teen be without a little romance? Full disclosure, I had a huge crush on the sorcerer dude as a kid, and he definitely inspired a character of mine a few years after I read it. However, we’re not here to gush about fictional character crushes. No, the relationship between Addie and Rhys (pronounced Reese) is one of the most natural developments I can recall ever seeing in a kid’s book. They meet. It’s cute and a little awkward—perfectly in line with Addie’s introverted self. They talk on and off whenever they see each other. And, my favorite part, because this is exactly what happens to imaginative, introverted girls in real life: Addie begins to see Rhys as her person rather than the mythical hero she’s daydreamed of for years. Better yet, this guy is actually there for her! He’s conveniently unavailable to go with Addie on her journey, but Levine handles it in a mature way. He pops in to check on Addie when he can. He encourages her. He’s kind. He believes she can do what she set out to. It’s a fabulous lesson to teach young kids, and I doubt I’m exaggerating when I say this book helped shape the way I thought about early relationships.

    The Two Princesses of Bamarre masterfully uses the “ticking clock” story style. Levine hands you one problem after the next, always keeping in the reader’s mind that the end goal has an expiration date attached to it too. You’ll spend around the first fifty pages developing a relationship with your main characters so you’ll care about said ticking clock, but even those pages are filled with adventure of the lighthearted variety.

    I think the only thing in the writing that periodically stood out to me was the frequent use of adverbs. The book does says ages eight to twelve, but Levine still could’ve had a little more fun with the “show, don’t tell” advice. You’re not going to find any high level wordsmithing here; you’re not supposed to. However, that doesn’t mean I enjoyed the book any less. It just means the adverbs made me wonder what this story would be like written for adults. And now I really want that, darn it.

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 8)

  • Just Ella

    Just Ella

    By Margaret Peterson Haddix

    Part of me wishes I hadn’t read this again. For me, some of the magic really is gone from the pages of Just Ella. The first time I read this book, I was around nine years old and still in love with fairy tales and believing in the happy ever afters and romance and required annals of drama that go along with that.

    Truly, my younger self missed the point of this book. In hindsight, that’s hilarious.

    I should have read this book around age twelve instead. Just Ella is not meant to be a fairy tale; it’s meant to be a cautionary tale for young girls looking at relationships through a movie lens, the “rose-colored glasses,” if you’ll pardon the cliché. And it ends with Ella understanding the basic “looks aren’t everything” and “first feelings aren’t always right” lesson that most kids come up against in their early teen years.

    The book begins looking at Prince Charming and his perfect self, perfect life, and perfect Princess. Ella, our protagonist, is clearly nothing more than infatuated from the get-go. Psychologically speaking, Haddix starts in a great spot. Readers should begin to clue in that something is off within the first few chapters. Mind you, this book is supposed to be for thirteen and fourteen-year-old kids, so it’s not meant to be subtle.

    In which case, beware the minefield of clichés! This is the part of me that’s happy I read this a bit younger than the recommended age. I wasn’t too aware of clichés at nine. By the time I hit thirteen, I knew all about them. If you’re older and reading Just Ella for the first time, be prepared for some sentences that will make you groan. Yes, the writing is for young teenagers, but it is honestly rather forgettable. I put the book down and began writing this post—I like to write when books are fresh in my mind—after taking the day to read Just Ella on and off, and I can’t recall a single sparkle of wordsmithing I particularly enjoyed. Another bit of the language use that rubbed me the wrong way was the random modern idioms or phrases that were scattered throughout the story, taking me out of the action or scene entirely anytime I came across one. Yes, as an adult—and especially as a writer—I’m much pickier about my literature and word choices than most, but just because a book is meant for kids, doesn’t mean it can’t have some de-familiarization of the “same old” to push the barriers of language and create new associations and memorable prose.

    I did feel the end was . . . rushed a little bit, as though Haddix felt she was running too close to her page maximum for a YA novel. I wouldn’t have minded the book being a tad longer.

    That said, the secondary (true) love interest’s actions near the end were incredibly out of character. He sees a girl, beaten and starving and outright traumatized, and the first thing he does is confess he loves her and asks her to marry him. Really? I’m pretty sure I recall thinking that was ridiculous the first time I read it. Not just the rather insane situation makes me feel that way though; this character had been pretty well-rooted in practicality and scholarly seriousness for the entire book. The sudden change is jarring and unattractive.

    In keeping with being a YA novel, Haddix has exactly zero morally gray characters. They either turn out to be “bad guys” or stay on the “good side.” Not necessarily a bad thing—especially for the genre and age range—but it felt like this book was written thinking teens couldn’t handle the far more lifelike middle ground.

    Overall? Your ten-year-old who loves books will enjoy it! Adult me wishes I’d left it in the nostalgia category.

    Next time will feature another childhood favorite—a gift from my best friend for my thirteenth birthday if the inside cover is accurate: Gail Carson Levine’s The Two Princesses of Bamarre.

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 7)