I wasn’t even the least bit surprised by how much I enjoyed The Last Bastion of the Living. Rhiannon Frater is well known for being a horror 4.5 stars
I wasn’t even the least bit surprised by how much I enjoyed The Last Bastion of the Living. Rhiannon Frater is well known for being a horror writer par excellence, and she only confirmed her status with this futuristic zombie novel. Well, she did a bit more than that: she outdid herself and surpassed all my expectations by far.
Vanguard Maria Martinez is an officer of the constabulary. Although young, she’s already a decorated war hero with a very strong sense of duty. Her job is to guard the wall that separates the living from the dead – the Bastion from the zombie-infested lands – but the war against the Inferi Scourge, i.e. the zombies, has long ago been lost. The last city, last Bastion, is fighting for mere survival, nothing more. Maria doesn’t remember a world without the scrags, but when she is called to lead a desperate mission, she sees it as her duty to accept.
Castellan Dwayne Reichardt is Maria’s boyfriend, twenty five years her senior. They keep their relationship a secret for several valid reasons, but their love is strong and true. He is there to support Maria every step of the way, and he never hesitates to bend a few rules if that’s what it takes to keep her safe. Frater did something not many authors do: she wrote a solid relationship that was already established at the beginning of the novel and that remained a warm, comforting presence throughout. This story did not need relationship angst – it needed both Maria and Dwayne, confident in their love and united against their enemies. Everything about them was perfectly realistic and even though they were physically apart most of the time, their love kept softening the edges of this story.
The Last Bastion of the Living is told both from Maria’s and Dwayne’s third person points of view, and both perspectives were needed to understand the full extent of their troubles. Frater is a fabulous storyteller, one who knows how to build up tension to an almost unbearable level, and The Last Bastion is her most mature work to date, unpredictable and fascinating.
Kristin Allison narrated this audiobook and I thought she did a stunning job. Her voice is calm, measured and mature-sounding, perfect for a fierce soldier like Maria. She narrated the action scenes in that same tranquil manner, which, instead of making them seem dull, increased the creepiness and the tension. She was an excellent choice for a book like The Last Bastion and I won’t hesitate to buy something narrated by her in the future.
As for Rhiannon Frater and I, our love story is only just beginning. She’ll keep writing, I’ll keep reading and we’ll both live happily ever after. ...more
4.5 stars Here’s a fair warning for you guys: don’t start reading Boy Nobody just before bedtime, especially if you have something important to do the 4.5 stars Here’s a fair warning for you guys: don’t start reading Boy Nobody just before bedtime, especially if you have something important to do the next day. It will not end well, learn from my mistake. I thought I’d just read a few chapters and go to sleep, but somehow I ended up with a can of Red Bull at three in the morning, desperate to keep myself awake long enough to finish that last part.
Zadoff was very careful not to reveal our protagonist’s name for most of the book, giving him an alias only when the narrative would have suffered otherwise, and always emphasizing the fact that his name, or anything else about him, don’t matter. His alias, Benjamin, was also used sparingly in the attempt to make him seem less like a person, and more like a well-oiled machine, completely stripped of personality, a weapon you aim at any given target and wait for it to go off.
Our protagonist – I’ll call him Ben to avoid confusion although it’s not his real name - is emotionless, but not cruel; well-trained, but not bloodthirsty; competent, but not overly ambitious. The Program killed his parents and recruited him when he was no more than twelve, and his life is just mission after mission. He has no friends, no family, just two bosses (or handlers) he calls Mother and Father.
While Ben’s story is undoubtedly sad and one can understand why he made some of his choices, make no mistake – he is a killer. He is no would-be assassin; he is an agent with six successful missions behind him. He is the new boy in school who will use his training and expertise to worm his way into your life, kill your parents at first available opportunity and then disappear forever.
Zadoff’s story seems to be Young Adult by accident, not by design, by which I mean that his protagonis’s age seems to be determined by the effect it has the story, and not the publishers or the market. This means that he didn’t pull any punches: the violence in Boy Nobody is not graphic, but it's constantly present. In many ways, this is a story better suited for older, more mature readers, although there's nothing to prevent me for recommending it to younger audience as well..
I loved that the author never tried to redeem his character. He never made excuses for him, never tried to turn him into something he’s not. In that, Boy Nobody is unlike any other YA book before it. Yes, Ben asks himself questions about morality, right and wrong, love and duty, but those questions aren’t the center of this story, nor is there some life-altering lesson hidden between the lines.
Let me put it this way: try to imagine Jason Bourne in his formative years. If you like what you come up with, it means you’ll probably like Boy Nobody as well. Just make sure to start reading when you know you have time to finish it in one sitting.
This review is for the first three books in the Cornerstone series:
You know how there are indie authors who, by all rights, should be superstars? I heThis review is for the first three books in the Cornerstone series:
You know how there are indie authors who, by all rights, should be superstars? I heard that they have a secret club and that Misty Provencher is their club president. Her Cornerstone series is the most original YA I’ve read in a long time. YES! You read that right. The. Most. Original. And in a genre that is in desperate need of originality.
The Cornerstone series has been getting a lot of positive reviews, but I honestly didn’t expect to lose two nights of sleep over it, and yet I found myself fully awake at 4 am holding a cup of tea in one hand and gripping my Kindle with the other. I almost squeezed the life out of my poor Ferguson. Cornerstone, then Keystone, then Jamb, all in less than two days. Every time I dared to think that it couldn’t get any better, Misty Provencher took things a step further.
Looking back, out of the three books, Cornerstone seems to be the weakest link. Provencher didn’t rush her worldbuilding or character building in the first book, which was later repaid with the sheer brilliance of Keystone and Jamb. Her worldbuilding is, admittedly, of the sink-or-swim variety, but that is my favorite kind if the new information is timed right. I was able to discover the community alongside Nalena, and the way in which Provencher did it achieved two important goals: first, she eased me into an extremely complicated, multi-layered world; and second, the confusion I occasionally felt matched Nalena’s confusion, and that made it easier for me to identify with her and like her all the more.
Truth be told, Nalena and I didn’t get along at first. She appeared to be weak and tended to get dizzy and faint a lot, and her ability to stand up for herself left a lot to be desired. I’m afraid I have very little patience for delicate flowers and it seemed that Nalena would be just the type of character I can’t stand. But as the story progressed, she found her footing and she slowly became a different person altogether. This was perhaps most evident in her relationship with Garrett. She never allowed him to take over her life (not that he ever tried to), choosing to question her feelings and build her independence instead. Their relationship is a beautiful, mature thing, something we don’t get to see often enough. Instead of losing themselves in each other, Garrett and Nalena found a way to function as two individuals who happen to be together. The difference is subtle, but it’s present in every decision they make.
With two characters like Nalena and Garrett and a complex, ever-expanding world, a lesser author would probably neglect the secondary characters, but Misty Provencher did the exact opposite. Garrett’s family, Addo Larry, other Alos and Contegos, each of them will become your best friend by the time you’re done with the first two books. In am fully invested in each of these characters and every time something happens to one of them, I lose a small piece of my heart.
Of course none of these books is without editing issues. Homophones are often misused (their instead of they’re and so on), but if that’s the price I have to pay for such a wonderful read, I’m happy to pretend not to notice. I’m sure these will be smoothed out in time anyway since Misty seems to be an author who approaches her work with utter seriousness and professionalism.
Cornerstone is now $0.99 for Kindle. I recommend getting a copy as soon as you can, it is quite possibly the best buy you’ll ever make. My 4.5 star rating is for the entire series: there were a few things I wasn’t happy with (the cliffhanger at the end of Jamb bothered me most of all), but there were also several breathtaking, unforgettable five-star moments.
4.5 stars I’ll start with this: Gameboard of the Gods is a definite step up for Richelle Mead. It is her most ambitious project in terms of worldbuildi4.5 stars I’ll start with this: Gameboard of the Gods is a definite step up for Richelle Mead. It is her most ambitious project in terms of worldbuilding and structure, though perhaps not the plot.
Mead’s futuristic world is divided between two great forces: RUNA (Republic of the United North America) and EA (Eastern Alliance). Everything else are the provinces, barbaric in comparison, technologically and culturally inferior. Mead envisioned a world in which religion is considered to be a true danger for the society. It is tightly controlled by people called the servitors, one of them our Dr. Justin March. The RUNA is a glorious country, a place where people can feel safe and protected, guarded by a powerful military force. It is not a dystopian setting; if anything, it’s closer to utopia, based on the Greco-Roman social structure.
The RUNA held three things responsible for the Decline: biological manipulation, religion, and cultural separatism. All of the early genetic mixing had gone a long way to stamp out group solidarity, and the loose Greco-Roman models the country had adopted provided a new, all-encompassing culture that everyone could be a part of.
The worldbuilding is of the sink-or-swim variety, fascinating and in many ways almost visionary, but a bit overwhelming at times. Mead is an expert at showing rather than telling, but perhaps she took it too far at times. Her world doesn’t lack structure; the lines are very clear and there’s an abundance of details, but some (admittedly smaller) parts I simply failed to understand.
I mentioned at the beginning that there were some minor problems with the plot. A murder investigation is at the center of the plot, but it takes a back seat to character development and the paranormal element. The murder mystery itself is painfully neglected throughout the novel, serving mostly as a reason for the two main characters to work together.
The paranormal element is very present – this is Richelle Mead we’re talking about, but it’s always hidden beneath the surface, dampened somehow and rarely talked about. The RUNA is not a great place to discuss such matters, but both Justin and Mae, our two protagonists, are undeniably tied to something otherworldly.
Aside from being brilliant, Dr. Justin March drinks a lot, takes all the drugs he can get his hands on, sleeps with a different woman every night, and is generally a poor (albeit handsome and charming) excuse for a human being. Mae Koskinen is no prize either. A genetically altered elite soldier, a castal girl of pure Nordic descent, desperately afraid of any kind of commitment, haughty and often overcome by a darkness that brings out her violent side. The two have nothing in common, except for the loneliness their superiority brings with it.
The two start by sleeping together under wrong assumptions and their relationship goes downhill from there. They are forced to work together on a string of cult-related murders, Justin as a brilliant investigator returned from exile for that very purpose, and Mae as his unstoppable bodyguard. If you expect a breathtaking romance from Justin and Mae, you might end up disappointed. There is a lot of delicious sexual tension between them, but the night of their first encounter is always a looming obstacle. Besides, being with Mae means a life-long servitude to an unknown god for Justin, and he is not one for blind obedience to anyone, not even a deity.
Mead could never be accused of lack of imagination, but with Gameboard of the Gods, she outdid herself in more ways than one, and for the most part, she held a tight control over all the bits and pieces. It was only at moments that the worldbuilding became too big for her and confusing for the reader. There is nothing more important to me than character development, and Mead’s thorough approach to it left me in awe. While Gameboard of the Gods could prove to be a bit challenging for less patient readers, it was a great read according to my taste and a promising start to an exciting new series.
First, a quick note: How to Lead a Life of Crime is among the most violent young adult novels I’ve ever read. If you enjoyed I Hunt Killers, for exampFirst, a quick note: How to Lead a Life of Crime is among the most violent young adult novels I’ve ever read. If you enjoyed I Hunt Killers, for example, you’re likely to enjoy this too, but if the thought of YA books that contain murder, corporate crime, illegal drug trials, teenage prostitution, implied rape and even a severed head bothers you, then this is not a book for you.
Flick’s is one of the clearest voices I’ve come across in YA. He grabs your attention right from the first page and he never lets go. He is instantly likeable, despite being a small-time thief. Flick cares about two things in life: avenging his younger brother (which entails destroying their father, the murderer) and Joi, a girl he met on the streets. Because he loves Joi, he considers her his great weakness and knows he’ll have to abandon her as soon as he’s strong enough to confront his father. Flick is not your typical street kid; his family is obscenely rich, but Flick sees surviving on the streets as a way to toughen up enough to face the man who abused him all his life.
I never set out to be a thief. I suppose I once had something grander in mind. But when you live on the streets, you find out that your career options are limited. You can be one of the kids who disappear with the strangers who cruise cruise through every night. You can sell the stuff that helps those kids forget what they’ve seen. Or you can be a thief. If those choices don’t suit you, you can always be dead.
Once Flick agrees to go to Mandel Academy, hoping to find evidence against his father, he realizes it’s nothing like he expected. The school is full of kids with colorful pasts and nowhere else to go. Some of them are hackers, some skilled thieves, some are drug dealers and prostitutes and some are even serial killers. Most of them aren’t poor misunderstood individuals, no matter what we’d like to believe. They are cruel, they’re vicious and they’d do anything to survive. Mandel Academy breeds psychopaths and sociopaths and prepares them to be world leaders.
In the second part of How to Lead a Life of Crime, Miller strayed into more implausible territory, and the further she took things, the less enthusiastic I became. The plot suddenly became too big, far too over the top and while it was still bloody and wildly interesting, it paled in comparison to the realistic grittiness of the first half. Some of Flick’s outrageous confidence was also lost somewhere along the line, which meant that he wasn’t nearly as funny (or as endearing) as he was at the beginning.
If there’s one thing in this book I object to, it’s the censorship of swear words spoken by the characters, and somehow I don’t think it was the author’s choice. I am firmly against using asterisks or anything similar in their place. That’s not to say that I advocate excessive profanity in YA, but there are times when it’s expected. In this book, all the teens come straight from the streets. They are ex drug dealers, thieves and prostitutes. They will use swear words on occasion or they wouldn’t be very realistic, would they? What are we protecting our teens from, exactly? And can we really write something they haven’t already seen? If we replace every F-bomb with f---, what message are we sending, especially in this context? That severed heads are fine, but fuck isn’t?! I think that’s ridiculous and maybe a little bit sad.
I’d have preferred it if this book remained as realistic and unsettling as it was in those first one hundred pages, but even with the turn it took later on, it was a read I won’t easily forget.
Some books should be sold with a companion novel, a cheerful, nonsensical one people would read immediately after the main story to lighten up their souls. If there was ever a book that left me in urgent need of some cheering up (and a cup of spicy hot chocolate), it’s this one. But would I change a single thing about it? Not in a million years!
There are some things most people would rather not think about. I dare say Spanish flu is one of them. It’s a nasty scar in human history, and October 1918 possibly the worst month humankind has ever endured. Not only was the world desperate and exhausted by the First World War, but far worse was the second wave of influenza that killed anywhere between 50 and 100 million people.
This is the month Cat Winters chose to write about, and she did so with the surety of a seasoned author (I still can’t believe that this is her debut) and a thorough research behind her. In the Shadow of Blackbirds is a story built on the contrast between a young, innocent love and the war that tried (and succeeded) to steal that innocence away. Everywhere Mary Shelley turned, she saw nothing but ugliness and death. In her world, human warmth and compassion disappeared behind fear and mistrust. The gauze masks people wore to protect themselves from the flu are very symbolic of the period, and of the terror and distance between people.
”Oh, you silly, naive men.” I shook my weary head and genuinely pitied their ignorance. “You’ve clearly never been a sixteen-year-old girl in the fall of 1918.”*
Through it all, Mary Shelley Black is practically alone. Her father is in prison, accused of being a traitor, her 26-year-old aunt is superstitious and unsupportive, and her young boyfriend Stephen died in a battlefield in France. As a very unconventional girl who enjoys taking things apart to see how they work, Shell is quite used to a lonely life, but at least before she always had Stephen to talk to. He was the only one who ever appreciated and even admired her eccentricities.
When Stephen's spirit starts showing up next to Mary Shelley in photographs taken by his opportunistic half-brother, Mary has to consider the possibility that he isn’t resting peacefully and investigate the circumstances of his death. In this book, the brutally realistic and the paranormal collide, and the reader is never quite sure how much of it is truth, and how much is the product of overactive imagination (actually, the words ‘group delusion’ and ‘mass hysteria’ come to mind).
I’ve never given much thought to the things people hold on to in difficult times to alleviate their fear, but the sudden (renewed) popularity of spiritualism during World War I makes perfect sense, as do the folk remedies people resorted to to protect themselves from the flu. It’s very easy for us to be judgmental and ridicule people who stuffed salt up their nose, but in October 1918, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same.
I don’t need to be a clairvoyant to see the future that lies ahead of Cat Winters and her debut: awards, critical acclaim, translations to more languages than I can name (I’m a linguist, I can name a lot of languages). If you squint at the cover, you can already see the shiny William C. Morris medal in the top left corner, possibly even a Printz. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.
There’s only a handful of authors whose insightfulness I admire as much as I admire Sarah Skilton right now, most of them Australian. At first, my rating was 4.5 stars, but then I decided that such profound understanding of human psyche combined with really excellent writing deserves more. So I gave it a five, which is something I rarely do. And I don’t regret it.
Control and power are such interesting things. We all crave them, some more, some less, and none of us like to feel helpless or weak. But feeling powerful and in control can be a double-edged sword. That wonderful feeling easily turns into something horrible the second someone stronger comes along. We all want to believe that we can defend ourselves, that nothing big can harm us. Those things happen to other people, right?
But what if you spend years preparing for exactly one such event? Countless hours of training to protect not just yourself, but those who are weaker, powerless? And what if, when the time comes, you fail? I doubt an adult would be able to handle that very well. A sixteen-year-old girl? She’s likely to get angry, violent and depressed, and not in neat little stages, but all at once. She’s likely to crack.
Imogen spent six years living and breathing Tae Kwan Do. She followed all the rules, inside and outside the dojang. She trained hard, ate healthy and studied a lot for her average grades. She was confident that she could face any situation, confront any bully, fend off any attack, all thanks to her rigorous training. What she didn’t count on was a gun.
This story about Imogen’s struggle with guilt, depression, and the need to prove to everyone that she IS capable of defending herself, is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever read. Skilton’s approach is brutally honest and realistic, and she’s not in the business of creating heroes. Imogen wasn’t always the easiest character to like, but even when she was being unfair or judgmental, I could feel the hurt pouring off her, and I desperately wanted to protect her even though she doesn’t need anyone’s protection.
The most wonderful thing about Bruised are its layers. As the story progresses, more of Imogen’s family issues are revealed, and we see it’s not just the event in the diner she struggles with, but also problems that were there before. She’s angry at her father for ignoring his diabetes and ending up in a wheelchair, she’s upset with her older brother for outshining her in everything, but most of all, she resents her mother for not accepting her for who she is.
There is no magic wand Imogen can wave to make her problems disappear. Depression and anger aren’t things one can just decide to recover from overnight. Bruised isn’t some miraculous story about self discovery. It’s about a girl forced to question everything she stands for and maybe become a better person in the process.
If you’re a contemporary fan, Bruised is an absolute must-read. If you’re not… well, neither am I, but the best things in life come from unexpected directions. I know not everyone will love this book as much as I did, but it will definitely leave an impression. It’s not one you’ll easily forget.
A Conspiracy of Alchemists is a surprisingly fun debut, a wonderful blend of steampunk, urban fantasy and paranormal romance. It’s perfect for fans ofA Conspiracy of Alchemists is a surprisingly fun debut, a wonderful blend of steampunk, urban fantasy and paranormal romance. It’s perfect for fans of Meljean Brook’s Iron Seas series. The worldbuilding may be slightly inferior in comparison, but that’s only because Meljean Brook is the untouchable queen of the genre. Leisel Schwartz did not disappoint with her fabulously imaginative world full of alchemists, Nightwalkers, absint fairies and warlocks. The steampunk elements were great (gyrocopters!) and the plot was highly entertaining, if a tiny bit predictable.
The romance, however, fell a bit flat. You know when you watch So You Think You Can Dance and a couple dances with technical precision, but the judges say there’s not enough chemistry between them? That’s exactly how this was: Elle and Marsh made all the right moves, but there wasn’t any spark there. I never felt the rush of expectation when they were left alone, and even though theirs wasn’t an instalove, it still wasn’t believable enough for me.
Elle was a great heroine, one I could easily admire. She refused to be limited by her gender and preferred flying airships to husband-hunting. The secondary characters were fabulously developed and I can’t wait to see more of them in the second installment, The Clockwork Heart. A Conspiracy of Alchemists has a very clean ending and it could easily have been a standalone, but I was very excited when the second book was announced.
I can’t promise you’ll remember all the details a month after you finish this book, but I can promise you’ll have a great time reading it.
You should have seen the look on my face when I finished the last chapter of Sealed with a Curse. It was downright comical! I always get excited when You should have seen the look on my face when I finished the last chapter of Sealed with a Curse. It was downright comical! I always get excited when I discover a new series I like, but when it’s Urban Fantasy, I get virtually ecstatic. And lo and behold, Cecy Robson wrote a very promising first installment.
Celia Wird and her three sisters have supernatural powers as a result of a backfired curse. Emme is telekinetic and has the ability to heal people, Taran is a magic worker, Shayna can turn just about anything pointy into an arrow or a sword and Celia is a shifter with a powerful tigress living inside her. The sisters are nothing alike, and yet they are extremely close. Their parents died when they were very young and after a few foster homes, some of them terrible, Celia took over and gained custody of her younger sisters. As the oldest, she is used to being responsible for the others, and as the strongest, she is used to protecting them.
The girls aren’t exactly human, but they aren’t exactly part of the paranormal community either. They are stuck between two worlds, and their biggest desire is to be left alone. But powers like theirs can hardly go unnoticed and before they know it, they’re fighting paranormal battles all over the city.
Based on what I wrote so far, I think you can easily conclude what type of character Celia is. She is responsible, strong, determined and caring, and she always puts her sisters first. Buried under so many responsibilities, Celia has trouble relaxing and her loneliness is almost tangible – as a rule, men sense the predator within her and tend to run the other way. There’s a barrier between her and her sisters as well. She might be a Wird sister, but her role is essentially parental and that makes it difficult for her to be their friend.
But fear not, romance lovers! There is a man strong enough for Celia, one that will brush off all her weirdness and accept her for what she is. He is… (mine!)… Aric, a pureblood werewolf and a guy with huge responsibilities on his shoulders, but he handles them well. He takes nothing lightly, which makes him perfect for our girl. These two will make you swoon, my friends!
While I liked Celia, Emme and Shayna, I didn’t feel the same about Taran. She is the loud one, the one who always swears and complains and says inappropriate things at most unfortunate moments. It took me a while to warm up to her, but eventually I did, and that’s all that counts. The sisters were all interesting individually, but I really enjoyed their group dynamics and the little things between them, but most of all, how well they knew each other. It helped that I have a sister who’d do anything for me (and vice versa, of course) so it was very easy for me to relate.
The fight scenes, especially the huge one around the middle, tended to get a bit confusing. I had to go back a page or two a few times because they weren’t descriptive enough and I couldn’t connect it all in my head. But all things considered, that one can easily be overlooked, and I’m sure these big, ambitious scenes will get better in time.
The second book, A Cursed Embrace, should be out in July, but I’m ready to bribe, beg and offer eternal servitude to Cecy Robson or Penguin for an early copy. True, I have no pride, but who needs pride when I can have Aric?
4.5 stars I have book ADD, I really do. Even when I like a book, by the time I reach the second half, I get impatient, eager to be done with it and be 4.5 stars I have book ADD, I really do. Even when I like a book, by the time I reach the second half, I get impatient, eager to be done with it and be free to discover a new world. It’s a definite downside of having so many books to choose from, and it’s something I need to work on.
Therefore, I was more than a little surprised by the enormity of my despair when I reached the last page of Sanctum. It’s rare that a book leaves me desperate for more. Sarah Fine’s rich and imaginative world, although grim and depressing, captivated me entirely. She almost (but not quite, I’m not crazy) made me want to visit Suicide City and look around for myself. It is where suicide victims end up, condemned to wander the city, lost in their own despair. Can you imagine a more hopeless place in this world or the next? And for the very few conscious enough to want to escape or cause trouble, there are the guards, merciless creatures led by a human, their fearless Captain, Malachi.
Enter Lela, a worthy, if somewhat unconventional heroine. She came to Suicide City willingly, to save he best and only friend, not knowing what she might have to do, but ready for any kind of sacrifice. From the very first page of Sanctum, the readers know they won’t be getting a Mary Sue: she smokes, she curses, and she beats up bullies with terrifying ease. It takes a while for her tender side to be revealed, but she is lovable from the very start.
And Malachi… oooops, there goes my dignity! I haven’t felt so strongly about a fictional character since Sean Kendrick and I doubt I will anytime soon. With his warmth and Lela’s unflinching bravery, it’s no wonder they’re my new favorite couple. Which brings me to the girl I can’t stop thinking about – Lela Santos. Some would say she’s damaged beyond repair, and in some ways, they’d probably be right. But there’s so much love and hope in her, despite not having had an ounce of luck her entire life.
Sanctum is a dark, dark book, and although most of it happens in this hellish, unreal place, the horrors described are very real. Brief glimpses of Lela’s past were more than enough to make me want to run the other way, but I guess I absorbed some of her astonishing bravery because I kept reading even when it made me sick. This is where I truly applaud Fine; a lesser writer would have chosen a safer, less controversial road, especially when writing for young adults, but I could tell that Sarah Fine doesn’t believe in pulling any punches, and I admired her for it.
I’m sorry, guys, I’m very much aware that this review is all over the place. It was hard for me to put into words how much I loved this book. On December 6th, Sarah will share Malachi’s journal entries on several blogs, including The Nocturnal Library, so make sure to stop by. If you haven’t met Malachi yet, you’ll definitely want to after that. Brava, Ms. Fine! I’m thoroughly impressed.
The Diviners is my first book by Libba Bray, but I can tell you right now that it won’t be my last. I’m thrilled to have discovered another YA author The Diviners is my first book by Libba Bray, but I can tell you right now that it won’t be my last. I’m thrilled to have discovered another YA author of such talent and prominence. I would have given her a chance even before now, especially considering all the raving reviews written by my most trusted friends, but I simply never got around to it. Fortunately, she left me no choice with The Diviners. New York in the 1920s was impossible to resist.
I’ll start with my favorite part – the setting. Libba Bray did an extraordinary job in taking her readers to New York during the Prohibition era. I could hear the music and the laughter, smell the forbidden alcohol, and it made me want to put on a flapper hat and dance my feet right off. I could spend an eternity reading about the Roaring Twenties, and the ghost of a serial killer only made it that much more interesting.
Naughty John, Naughty John, does his work with his apron on. Cuts your throat and takes your bones. Sells ‘em off for a coupla stones…
Yup, you read that right: there’s a ghost of a vicious serial killer on the loose, and the only ones with any chance of stopping him are an 18-year-old psychic girl and a group of people that share the same dream. Even Evie’s uncle Will, who runs The Museum of American Folklore, Superstition and the Occult, also known as The Museum of the Creepy Crawlies, is powerless against this murderous ghost. And if that isn’t enough to freak you out, there are religious fanatics involved as well, and seriously, nothing is creepier than that.
To be quite honest, there were parts of this book that were a bit hard to get through. I’m not a fan of 3rd person, multiple points of view narrative to begin with, and The Diviners offered far too many perspectives for my taste. It’s so hard to connect with the characters that way, and Evie was the only one I really felt close too.
To top that off, Evie was a hard character to like. She was occasionally self-centered and a little too care-free. (I’m very organized and responsible and people who just breeze through life tend to annoy me.) But there were times when I felt I truly understood why she behaved in such a way, and I could connect with her regardless of her frustrating actions. The loss of a family hero, Evie’s older brother, damaged her family irreparably, and acting out was her way to cope.
But don’t let my ranting or those 600 pages scare you off. The Diviners is a book worth reading, although it will force you to read slowly and carefully – something I’m not quite used to. Bray’s talent for creating an eerie atmosphere is matched only by her intelligent humor. At times, I had to fight the urge to hide under my bed, only to burst out laughing five minutes later at something witty Evie said.
Uncle Will frowned. “Didn’t they teach you how to go about research in that school of yours?” “No. But I can recite ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ while making martinis.” “I weep for the future.” “That’s where the martinis come in.”
Make no mistake, The Diviners is a demanding book. It requires your full attention, but whatever it takes, it gives back tenfold. If I were you I wouldn’t hesitate to pick it up. As for me, I’ll just sit right here, very patiently and without making a sound, and wait for Libba Bray to finish the sequel. Some things were left unsaid and I need to know, need to know, needtoknoneedtoknowneedtoknow… Oh, shut up, brain!
Maja (The Nocturnal Library)
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