Anna Faúndez

Tag: fiction

  • 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)

  • Ella Minnow Pea

    Ella Minnow Pea

    By Mark Dunn

    The last book I read that made me keep a dictionary app handy was The Frog King by Adam Davies. But Ella Minnow Pea takes language to a whole new level, and it’s so much fun! To put it simply, I adore this book.

    In a fictional country called Nollop, a people live by and venerate a sentence: “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.” The sentence is beloved because it utilizes every letter of the English alphabet with only a few repeats. There’s even a statue showcasing the sentence in the center of the Nollopian town. But when the letters begin to fall off the statue, the people are led to believe it’s Nollop himself (the creator of the sentence) telling them to purge any fallen letters from their lexicon. What!?

    You read that right! But the best part of the book is its epistolary nature. Because of this, as letters are banned from use, so too must the author stop using them in the story. By the end of the book, the people of Nollop are left with only five letters to communicate. Not possible, right? Actually, yeah, pretty impossible. Language is forced to break its known uses and rules in Ella Minnow Pea, and I am here for it! Parts of the book are genuinely harder to read because of the creativity the Nollopians are forced to use to even speak!

    And the story is good too. Ella Minnow Pea, at its heart, is a commentary on the dangers of totalitarianism and censorship, and I like the book even more for it. I believe Dunn was smart to use language to make his point. When you really think about it, Ella Minnow Pea’s premise is absolutely ridiculous. Who in their right mind would ban letters from use in speech and writing just because they fell off a statue? No one! And that’s why the premise is such a good one for the subject matter. Dunn uses real-world totalitarianism tactics in Ella Minnow Pea but always adjacent to situations (I’d say) any logically-thinking person would stop and say, “Excuse me, they’re doing what???”

    In total (hehe,) I loved Ella Minnow Pea. I’m keeping this little book forever, and I’m so, so glad I found that random internet post talking a little bit about the plot. Thank you, random internet user. You found a new fan for the book you love too.

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 21)

  • Twin of Ice & Twin of Fire

    Twin of Ice & Twin of Fire

    By Jude Deveraux

    A two-for-one! Since these companion books take place at the same time, I decided to do the blog post for both books at once. Strap in for a couple of romances.

    No, I don’t always have great things to say about the romance books I’ve read, but I think it’s important to talk about how toxic relationships in books affect perception in the real world. I will have you keep in mind that these books were published in the late 1980s and early 1990s. What was acceptable in literature in the past has drastically changed for what’s acceptable now. And for good reason.

    ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

    {Warnings for Twin of Ice: sexual content}

    Twin of Ice features Houston Chandler, ice queen extraordinaire, and her quest to live the perfect life, as she’s been taught. You can’t really blame her for the way she was raised, and Houston is a fun character to read as she learns more about herself and grows throughout the book.

    She and Kane (the love interest) look to be exact opposites when they’re introduced, and I truly love that they’re shown to be much more similar than first impressions would have you believe. Houston and Kane butt heads because of differences in culture and social niceties, not true incompatibilities. And while I’m hard-pressed to believe their relationship would be successful, long-term, in the real world because of those things, Deveraux makes the possibility believable enough for a fun fiction read.

    I’m not a fan of how Kane treats women in general, but I understand this is historical fiction written in the late 80s. On that same turn, Kane does learn and begin to be more physically respectful over time. He may be a gruff shipyard boy, but he shows emotional growth throughout the book. He’s not perfect, or even a gentleman of the time, but he clearly has his heart in the right place once he figures out who he wants to be.

    Overall, I liked Twin of Ice more than the title initially made me feel like I would. (I really dislike people, women in particular, being called cold because they aren’t extroverted or assertive enough for the society in which they live.)

    So what about Twin of Fire?

    ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

    {Warnings for Twin of Fire: sexual violence and content}

    Twin of Fire wasn’t as good as its counterpart, Twin of Ice, and that’s mainly because I feel the “how the couple got together” was so strange and messed up. It was hard for me to forget about it as the book went on. And really, it’s not something you should forget, but we’ll get to that.

    Blair, the main character, is not a bad character by herself; she’s a high-energy go-getter that takes crap from no one and will loudly let them know their sexist ideas are stupid. But by that same line, for the scene where it mattered most, she forgets her entire personality and does something wildly out of character. (No, I don’t think it matters that she was “acting” or a little drunk. No one forgets themselves to that extent, and Blair clearly doesn’t if you bother to read.)

    At the same time, I think it’s important to acknowledge that Blair rapes her lover. Books (in my experience) rarely deal with rape in terms of female-to-male. And really, Twin of Fire doesn’t deal with it at all. Yes, the act is treated as a betrayal, but that betrayal is directed at what Blair did to her sister, not her victim. The actual, and probable, psychological effects on the victim are written off as anger mixed with a (confusing for me as a reader) desire to continue the relationship once he finds out the truth. (I’m trying to be spoiler-free here, but it’s hard, so forgive my vagueness.)

    That being said, had their “meeting” not been so weird and manipulative, Blair and her lover’s relationship would make the most sense: both educated, extremely smart, and hard-working for the common man. The two characters are very similar in all the ways that matter. That’s my preference for romances; I’m not a believer that opposites attract and stay together long-term. At least not happily.

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 20)

  • Eternity

    Eternity

    By Jude Deveraux

    {Warnings for Eternity: sexual content}

    I’m not an avid romance reader. Honestly, I tend to avoid the genre because of the high rates of sexism, thinly veiled misogyny, and abuse in romance novels.

    Six of the 200+ books in my home are categorized as romance. All of them came from 50 cent boxes of books from garage sales my friend’s mother frequented when I was younger. Six is about to dwindle to just one: three of the books have been relegated to my donation box, and two more are heading straight for the recycle bin. Yes, they were that bad, and I won’t foist their pages on someone else. Better to grant them new life.

    But what about Eternity? Overall, it was a pretty cute book.

    The main character, Carrie Montgomery, is a 20-year-old socialite from the East Coast of the United States. She’s spoiled rotten but still kind and funny enough to be likable. The premise of the story is . . . relatively unbelievable, but I was willing to suspend my belief because of the genre. No lost points there. (No, I don’t actually give novels I read a grade. They get stars on StoryGraph and GoodReads!)

    Once we get to the main story line and our heroine and hero meet, things get messy in a hilarious way really fast. I want this post to be as spoiler-free as possible, because the “how they met” is part of the fun! So, if you want to know that bit, you’ll need to pick up the book.

    I will say my favorite characters are actually the two kids. They’re, well, kids: silly, innocent, a little manipulative in a child-like way, and in need of some love. If you don’t like children in your romance novels, this may not be the book for you. They play a big part of the story, and they’re in almost every scene that isn’t just the heroine and hero “alone together.”

    That being said, I did like Carrie and her new husband quite a bit in their relaxed moments. Carrie grew on me more than Josh (the husband) did throughout the novel, but I didn’t hate him. He’s secretive and can be taciturn and quick to anger. But his anger was never violent; Carrie was never physically abused. I will say that the two verbally abuse each other through most of the novel. It’s not framed as a negative besides being “the hero and heroine butt heads.” We, in real life, know that’s a red flag in a relationship, but it wasn’t so bad in the novel (and understanding the circumstances and genre) that it ruined the book for me. Just remember that actual couples genuinely should not be shouting at each other and insulting each other all the time, and you’ll be golden.

    As a romance novel, of course there’s some sex. I’m happy to report that all sex scenes in this book are conducted with enthusiastic consent from both parties! The only, and I mean only, thing that made me roll my eyes was the “woman feels pain the first time she has sex because she’s a virgin” thing. This detail did lessen the scene for me somewhat, because, knowing Carrie’s history and physical activity level, her hymen most likely broke while horseback riding long before she ever had sex. She was aroused enough in the scene that I also doubt there was a lack of lubrication. Not impossible, but the details in the scenario and known history all point to a big “no” on Carrie experiencing pain.

    That’s about it without getting into spoiler territory. Do I recommend the book? Sure! If you like romance novels, kids, and don’t mind a fair amount of yelling, you’ll enjoy the book! It’s a cute read overall, and, of course, has a happy ending.

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 19)

  • Panic

    Panic

    By Lauren Oliver

    I bought this book at random from a thrift store trip years ago. I put it on the shelf and forgot it existed.

    Panic is a decent novel. It lands smack in the middle of dramatic thriller YA, and I admit that if I’d read the book when I first got it, I probably would have liked it more. I was a lot closer to high school age back then.

    My biggest complaint with Panic was how predictable it was. I’d guessed the “big reveal” (and other reveals) very early on in the novel, which meant my overall satisfaction with it decreased. I still had fun reading the book though! The different scenarios involving the game, Panic, were clever, dangerous, and executed well. The characters reacted differently and, more importantly, believably to the challenges they were presented with.

    As a reader, you’re introduced to a group of kids, troubled for one reason or another. One with neglectful parents, one with a disabled sibling in need of physical therapy, one with untreated OCD (otherwise “normal” with loving family) and one who also grew up relatively normally but has a dead mother and a hoarder father.

    The makings of a great cast, right? Diverse lives and experiences. They all want the same thing: the money from the game of Panic to escape their beaten down town, the place they perceive as the root of their problems. In some ways, they aren’t wrong. These are kids traumatized by life and see Panic as a way out. I agree that money can fix an awful lot, and a whole lot of money is on the line in this book. How much? Let’s just say I could pay off my student loans and still have some left over if I’d participated and won in a game of Panic. Not that I believe I would.

    Which brings me to another point: would you participate in a game of Panic? The stakes aren’t small. People die or are maimed while playing. But, if you win, you’ll suddenly find yourself with a lot of money to make a new life for yourself. If you say you wouldn’t play, why is that? In some ways, the book Panic is a privilege check, and it’s one thing about the book I liked very much.

    There’s a little bit of romance thrown in. Nothing unexpected. The characters are a bunch of teenagers, after all. When emotions run high, people tend to look to each other for support. Teenagers often view that support through a romantic lens. However, romance is not the focus of Panic. At all.

    Overall, I enjoyed my read of Panic. I can’t recall reading anything quite like it before, so if you’re looking for a YA thriller that has lots of drama, a sprinkle of romance, and tons of emotional angst, Panic might just be for you!

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 18)

  • 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)

  • Sweet Miss Honeywell’s Revenge

    Sweet Miss Honeywell’s Revenge

    By Kathryn Reiss

    I had so much fun reading Sweet Miss Honeywell’s Revenge again!

    When I was thirteen, I had an elective class in middle school as a Library Aid. One day, I was putting away some books for the librarian when this little gem caught my eye on the cart. I was already an avid reader, and I couldn’t resist stealing away a few minutes in the stacks to read the back and the first few pages of Reiss’s novel. I had never been the kid to read things like ghost stories or Goosebumps; I was a huge chicken and stayed far away from scary things. But this book made me curious, so instead of putting it away, I checked it out and spent the next few nights scaring myself to death reading it. It’s stuck with me all these years. (I still sometimes have nightmares involving disembodied hands. I am twenty-seven as of writing this post in April of 2022.)

    It’s unclear what year Sweet Miss Honeywell’s Revenge takes place in, but I think it’s safe to assume the early 2000s. Your main characters are four 12-year-old girls: one is spunky, one is anxious, one is daring, and the last is . . . mean? They do have some development, but each girl does have a predominant emotion that colors their actions/reactions.

    Personally, I found the alternating chapters between 2000-something and 1919 to be really well done. The 1919 chapters were definitely my favorites as that’s where you get all the ghost story backstory! As a child, I didn’t question Miss Honeywell’s behavior as anything more than controlling-adult-hates-children-and-wants-them-to-suffer. As an adult myself, I think there was something much more wrong with Miss Honeywell than a basic villainous intent to further the plot. I think she was mentally ill. That doesn’t excuse her behaviors at all, but it does add some depth to the character that I appreciated.

     

    The four girls do grow up a bit throughout the story too. There’s a bit of a “found family” story mixed in with the ghost story. The girls have to learn more about teamwork, loyalty, and how their past actions can affect the future. It’s a good way to make kids utilize their just-developing critical thinking skills.

    Please keep in mind that this book was written for kids; you won’t find amazing zingers and pretty prose in these pages. It’s actually repetitive enough that I found the same adjectives used too close together a few times.

    But really, if your preteen likes ghost stories, they will adore this book. And possibly be forever freaked out by porcelain dolls, if they aren’t already.

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 16)

     

  • The Frog King

    The Frog King

    By Adam Davies

    Full Disclaimer! This author was my professor in college and there are no frogs.

    I’ve read this one before! However, it fits my parameters—to read/reread every book currently on my bookshelf! (So far, 4 down and 174 to go! I was given a few more books just days ago. Yay!) Also, The Frog King won the Twitter poll placed in this post by a pretty wide margin.

    Since I’ve read Davies’ The Frog King, here’s what I remembered about it before I began reading. Answer: almost nothing. It’s been about four years since I last read this book, and I read it pretty fast the first time on top of so much college shoved into my head that some details simply got squeegeed out. I couldn’t even remember the narrator’s name. This is why we take notes, people! Onwards!

    Harry Driscoll, our main character and mental gymnast, is dead sick of his going-nowhere, underpaid job. It’s obvious from page three. Harry Driscoll also hates himself. I also hate Harry Driscoll. This is a one-way street with no U-turns in sight. Which brings me to my dilemma with The Frog King. The characters are amazingly well-written. No, seriously, I don’t just say that to make my former professor remember me fondly. Harry is so good at being the woe-is-me, head-in-the-sand, know-it-all jerk that you’ll probably spend most of the book in hopes something terrible happens to him. (Don’t worry.)

    Evie is a doll in all meanings of the word. She’s a great woman character with her own problems and strengths and weaknesses, and she’s probably the only reason I didn’t toss the book a few different times. Yes, Harry Driscoll will make you that mad. He’s the worst type of jerk for a big chunk of the novel: the kind of sleazeball you pray to god you don’t have to work a shift with because a) they get nothing done except complaining about their job and believing the work is beneath them, b) think they’re god’s gift to womankind, and c) they somehow manage to make you feel bad about yourself while being ironic/sarcastic/condescending towards themselves in the “Haha, isn’t life just a peach” way. Your problems and feelings will never amount to theirs. Harry is all this and more with an unhealthy dose of alcohol and self-hatred to boot. This is a man so emotionally constipated you’ll want to lace his coffee with a strong laxative. Fun!

    Okay, okay. He’s not all pig all the time—even dirtbags can have a few good qualities—but it’s frequent enough to be lethal in large quantities. Kind of like nuclear radiation. As I said before, don’t worry! Harry gets what’s coming to him. This isn’t some “jerks finish first” story, but boy, oh boy, get ready to feel patronized by a fictional character.

    Harry certainly stirs the emotions, but not the right ones for the majority of the novel. Well-crafted character? A+. Likable character? Eh. Maybe a motivational template for how not to conduct yourself.

    I try and keep this blog series as spoiler free as I can while also giving myself free reign to talk about the books I read, so I’ll move on to one other aspect.

    Readers beware!

    The Frog King is going to make you learn many new vocabulary words whether you want to or not. That’s just the way the narrator—you guessed it—Harry is. It’s how he thinks and roughly communicates. A facsimile of communication, but a point or two for trying, I guess. So accept that before reading, maybe even look forward to it, and grab a dictionary.

    Now the vocabulary, while impressive, does actually take away from scenes sometimes. The writing kind of jumps back and forth from enjoyable, witty, and smooth into wording that’s meant to show character but really your eyes just trip over. It will happen. No way around it. And it does knock off some enjoyability of the book.

    The writing style is actually pretty different to what I’m used to. Davies is raw and eclectic in the way that even if you are bumbling along with—or mentally throwing knives at—the narrator, you still have a good sense of location and emotional intelligence in the scene. You certainly aren’t going to be bored with his descriptions or dialogue.

    Typically, The Frog King isn’t my kind of book. I like my fiction with a bit more, well, fiction. This book tackles it all in the real world: alcoholism, narcissism, infidelity, and even gaslighting to some extent. I know the subtitle says “a love story,” but take that with a gulp of sea water.

    Overall thoughts on The Frog King? I think I still dislike Harry Driscoll enough to leave this book on the shelf until some other victim wanders by and hears the Jumanji drums, but I like Adam Davies enough as a writer to see what else he comes up with. Maybe next time I’ll ingest his words with a glass of wine?

    ~Anna

    (Entry 5)