I know I mentioned, way back when I reviewed Arthur Golden’s “Memoirs of a Geisha,” that prior to reading, I had very little knowledge about that aspect of Japanese culture. When it came to Japanese early modern history, the same thing happened with James Clavell’s “Shogun.” I had kind of known that samurai were important and had a vague idea what a Shogun actually was, but that was about it. Post-Shogun, while I can’t claim to be an expert on that era of Japanese history, I do know a significant amount more than I did going in.

Japan during this time is feudal, and is in a perilous condition. There are internal dynastic problems, but most of all, is the coming of westerners into the very (very) inward looking Japan. The story is told from the point of view of John Blackthorne, a sailor on the first English ship to ever land in Japan (so far, it’s only the Portuguese who have had contact). Blackthorne ends up being shipwrecked, taken prisoner and eventually gets tangled up in a bid for power for the position of Shogun, the warrior/military ruler who controlled Japan. The way that Blackthorne gets involved in this struggle is far too varied, complicated and would take far too much space to explain here. Suffice to say, they make for an interesting plot.

It is the look into feudal Japanese culture that is the major interest in “Shogun.” There are so many aspects of Japanese culture that are explained- societal, political, cultural and economics- and does so in great detail. This book shows the complicated power structure in Japan, the samurai way of life and even important cultural niceties, such as the tea ceremony. The most interesting part is that it’s (for the most part) told from Blackthrone’s perspective. Like the reader, he’s a foreigner being introduced to these things for the first time.

A second aspect that of the book that is absolutely fascinating is the social struggle that takes place between the traditional Japanese ways versus the new western ideas being brought in. This struggle shows in many ways, including the attempts of the Jesuit priests to establish Catholicism in a land that has been dominated by Shinto and Buddhism for centuries. The best way that the general tradition versus new is shown in the relationship that develops between Blackthorne and Lady Mariko, a highborn Japanese samurai Lady (a relationship that any romance fan will completely enjoy).

“Shogun” is long and dense, and it took even me a fair amount of time to read. The sheer amount of history and culture and Clavell manages to pack into this book, not to mention the intrigue and extremely well written characters, made all the time spent reading it time well spent.
Given how often I review a book about them, I wouldn't be surprised if you thought I had the opinion that the Tudors were the most interesting historical family out there. While I wouldn't necessarily disagree with that, I would like to point out there are many others, especially in British history. One of those was the Plantagenets, which is directly before and led to the Tudor line. Of course, when I saw it was my favourite historical fiction author who was writing a series about them, I was all over that.

In order to understand The White Queen, you need to at least catch up on the basics of the War of the Roses. Two royal families -Lancaster and York- were fighting over the English throne. There's a lot to go into, but what's most important to this book is Elizabeth of Lancaster, for she's the main character. It begins with one of her defining moments- recently widowed, knowing her side is going to lose, she sets up a 'chance' meeting with the York king, Edward IV to ask for leniency for her family. Edward is impressed with her bravery, and it goes further than that. Edward falls in love and they marry in secret. Surprising no one, that comes back to haunt them. When the Yorks win, Elizabeth becomes Queen, a title she needs to keep fighting for when people from all sides questions its legitimacy. By the end, with Edward dead and her basically trapped under sanctuary in a church, we see her suffer through what has become one of the major mysteries of English history- what happened to her sons, the princes in the tower?

As always, Gregory delivers on an amazing look at the politics that shaped the day. She gives us a character that is trapped in those politics, and yet is doing everything to not only survive, but come out on top. Elizabeth, for all her success and failures, is still able to play the game beautifully. The politicking, surrounded by the drama and romance, makes this a great story. The Tudors are great, but the Plantagenets are just as dramatic and intriguing. They created just as much of an uproar and shaped just as many powerful players. I highly suggest looking into them, and The White Queen is a great, entertaining starting point.
It’s been awhile since I’ve brought you back to The House of Night (both the series and the main setting inside said series). It’s been awhile since I went with the teen version of vampires, so I thought it might just be the time to come back to both. That’s why I’m continuing with the series. With all that in mind, I present you with a review of Chosen, book three in PC and Kristen Cast’s The House of Night series.

When we last left the series, Zoey (super almost-vampire extraordinaire) had just found out that the high priestess Neferet is bringing back dead fledglings and making them into monsters for unknown reasons. This included Stevie Ray, Zoey’s best friend. The book deals with Zoey trying to find a way to stop Stevie Ray and the others like her from losing themselves. Since she can’t let anyone else know about it, it mean keeping secrets from everyone, even as it chips away at the trust everyone has in her. Of course, it all explodes in spectacular fashion by the end.

I’ll be honest- I didn’t really like this book. It rates as an ‘okay’ 2/5 stars for me, but since I still want to review the rest of the series, I had to cover this one. It’s just a book that could also be titled ‘Zoey Makes the Worst Decision Every Time’ and that’s frustrating. It’s painful to read, because it’s hard to see the main character acting so stupidly. This is not a book with good characters (most of them are nothing but a cliché), but it’s a fairly solid one when it comes to plot (minus to ridiculous romance plotlines(s)). It gets the overall story going, setting up the Neferet vs. Zoey storyline nicely, and gives us a glimpse of just what’s at stake on a big picture level. That is important for any ongoing series. It might not be the best in the series, but it’s still a series worth reading.
How far would you go to save your sick child? Would you risk one of your other children to save them? Those are the questions that Jodi Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper makes us ask ourselves. It leaves you grappling with them from page one to the very last and never makes it easy.

The Fitzgerald’s daughter gets sick with leukemia when she is only a child. In order to give her a better chance of survival, Kate’s mother becomes pregnant again, making sure that this new child is a genetic match to her daughter (they never exactly explain the science behind it, only that they do it). Anna is this second daughter…the daughter that sees herself only in relation to her sister. Every time her sister relapses, Anna gives a piece of herself. As the story opens we see that now Kate needs a new kidney, and as a genetic match, Anna is expected to give one. Before that surgery can happen, Anna goes to a lawyer to sue for medical emancipation. That’s where the story really begins.

You go into this book with many assumptions; the mother must be horrible to ask so much of one of her daughters, poor Anna is so neglected that she’ll risk her sister’s life, Kate doesn’t care about her sister as long as she’s there to save her. All of said assumptions are wrong. The book is told in alternating points of view, showing us the minds of the main characters (the members of the Fitzgerald family, Anna’s lawyer, and the child advocate assigned to look out for her). By showing us their thoughts, we see how much turmoil they are all in, how there is no right or wrong answer. We see that Sara loves both her daughters equally, Anna doesn’t want her sister to die but feels that see needs to do this, and Kate understands why she has to. You can’t hate any one character, no matter how much you may want to. Picoult’s work is heartbreaking in so many ways, and is without a doubt a complete tear jerker. She’ll leave you questioning many of your own beliefs and praying that you never have to go through what her characters are going through. You’ll be questioning your own morals by the time you finish, and those are the profound ones that will stick with you long after you’ve put the book down.
Think back to high school. Remember your friends? Remember what they were like, how close you were? Most importantly, remember what secrets you told them? I’m willing to bet that some of those secrets were ones that you never, ever wanted anyone to find out (as is the nature of secrets). But of course, there’s that friend who did know…and it really is impossible to keep a secret once someone else knows. Wouldn’t it just be easier if that friend just…disappeared?

That’s the plot of Sara Shepard’s Pretty Little Liars, the first book in the series of the same name. Allison was the best friend of Aria, Emily, Hanna, and Spencer. She was the one who knew their deep, dark secrets. We don’t see Allison very long, but the reader gets the sense she was one manipulative queen bee, the type of ‘friend’ who would subtly send out nasty barbs about those secrets. She would, without saying it outright, remind you that she knew, and it could destroy you if she wanted to. Then, one night Allison just disappears without a trace, and deep down, beneath the fear, sadness, and grief, the other girls feel just a little relieved. No Allison, no risk of exposure. Flash forward a few years, and the girls have all dramatically drifted apart. They’re all dealing with normal teenage girl issues- boys, girls, pressure from parents, weight issues and, a whole slew of others (though in a more dramatic, overblown way than I remember from high school). Allison hasn’t been heard from and her disappearance remains a mystery…until the girls begin to get messages, signed only with the letter A. These messages are taunting and coy, telling each girl that they don’t only know their new secrets, but their old ones as well. The secrets that only Allison knew. These messages are genuinely threatening, and it makes them that much more menacing.

This is a fun book, so ridiculously dramatic and over the top that it’s enjoyable. It never takes itself seriously and never tries to tone down the melodrama, but it also keeps in mind that it’s touching on some really serious topics, such as eating disorders. The book is ridiculous, but it never treats those issues as though they’re funny. Is it the best portrayal of them? No, but it takes them seriously in a book that is far from serious. The only complaint I have is that I felt the mystery could have lasted a little longer, at least into the next book. A new mystery replaces it, and it promises to be just as good, but I still wish they had drawn the original one out a little longer. Other than that, I thought the book was a good one, especially for reminding me just how vicious and catty high schoolers can be. If there’s ever a book that demonstrates that you should keep your secrets to yourself, it’s this one.
Let’s face it people; for some of the population, especially the sort of younger generations like mine, didn’t even register that a book trilogy called The Lord of the Rings existed until news came that they were being made into a movie (I am one of the proud geeks who read The Lord of the Rings before the movies- and have been my favourite books since). Quite a few people have read the trilogy since the movies came out and many have read The Hobbit (Bilbo’s adventure that is the prequel to the trilogy) too. What I have noticed though is that fewer people have read The Silmarillion.

The Silmarillion tells the tale of the beginnings of Middle Earth, from the very creation of the world being sung into existence by the being Eru, the supreme being, to the second age and the first fall of Sauron (The Lord of the Rings takes place in the third age). We learn of the coming of elves and men, the forbidden creation of that dwarves, and the war fought against the first dark lord. Here we read the greatest legends from Middle Earth, from the tragedy of the mortal Hurin and his children, to the greatest love story in Middle Earth, between the elf Luthien and the mortal Beren. There is the great War of the Jewels, where the elves tore each other apart trying to reclaim the stolen Silmarils, the only light left from the great trees that lit up the promised land. No matter what trope you like in your high fantasy, there is a story here to match it.

Instead of chapters The Silmarillion is organized, more or less, into interconnecting short stories (it wasn’t written as a full novel at the time of Tolkien’s death, so his son Christopher gathered up the sections his father had written and put them together for publication). You can find a large part of the history of Middle Earth in The Silmarillion and that right there is a reason to read it- knowing how things came to be makes reading the trilogy much more enjoyable to read. However, I do understand that that’s also a reason why there are quite a few people, Tolkien fans included, that can’t get through this book. It feels like a history textbook. A beautifully written and creative one, but still dense with details. That’s not for everyone, even if it’s right up this history geek’s alley. Here’s the thing, even knowing that it won’t appeal to everyone- Tolkien created this entire, amazing world with so much detail that you can’t help but imagine it being real…how can you not want to explore that world even further?
I first saw The Clan of the Cave Bear on one of those 100 books to read before you die lists, and truth be told, it didn’t really sound all that appealing to me. Don’t get me wrong, I love history, but I’m a bit less into the prehistoric humanoids. How much can there really be to tell about cavemen (excuse the simplistic term)? Despite those reservations I decided to read the book anyway, and I’m glad I did.
Clan of the Cave Bear takes place in the time where Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons lived in the world together.

Ayla is a little girl when her village is destroyed and she’s the only survivor. She wanders and after being attacked by a huge ancestor to the lion, is injured and found by a tribe of Neanderthals. They decide to take the girl with them, though she is ‘other’. Ayla is different in more ways than appearance, and that becomes more obvious as she grows. Ayla is a tomboy in a world where, even though women do as much physical labour as men, there are clear gender divisions. Women cannot hunt for example. Yet Ayla defies all that. She teaches herself to hunt and when her child is threatened, she violates the laws to protect him. Those are only a few of the moments where Ayla is like a prehistoric feminist.

Another interesting factor in the book is the culture that surrounds the clan. It’s nowhere near as simple as your cliched caveman tale. There is an extreme amount of mysticism and religion. The bear is a sacred animal, and each person has their own spirit animal. There are medicine women and shamans who preform rituals of deep religious and symbolic value. There is also a large amount of conflicting politics in the story. The issue of succession as a leader and how a personal vendetta can affect the wellbeing of the clan is a key plot point. There is xenophobia and distrust of the ‘other’. All of that makes it feel real. Never could I have imagined a prehistoric culture being so captivating. Auel makes it so real that you can imagine that this is what early people did believe in. Romanticized yes, but The Clan of the Cave Bear is fascinating nonetheless.
One of the most poignant questions an author can address is the question of human nature. In most cases, authors will take the chilling (and realistic) approach that tells that world that, as a collective group, humans really aren’t that good when it comes down to it. That premise becomes downright horrifying when you throw children into the mix.
Suzanne Collins does just that in her novel The Hunger Games.

In a bleak future, the former North America is divided into twelve districts and ruled (with an iron fist, of course) by the Capital. In order to remind the populace why rebellion is a bad idea, the Capital has the annual Hunger Games- a Battle Royale style competition that puts two people from each district in a landscape arena…last person standing wins. These two people? Children between the ages of twelve and eighteen. Katniss takes the place of her twelve-year-old sister, when Primrose is chosen in the yearly draw. Along with Peeta, Katniss is whisked off to the Capital and will have to kill twenty-three other tween/teens in order to survive.

If the idea of the games itself isn’t terrifying, the hype around them amps up the horror. The tributes (those participating in the games) are treated like American Idol contestants, complete with stylists, interviews, and judges ranking them on their talents (in this case, killing and survival skills). People sponsor and bet on which kid is going to win. Twenty-four kids are going to kill each other (or be killed by the hostile environment and traps the games masters create) and everyone is going to watch it as live entertainment. Then there are the kids themselves. They have to kill to survive, and quite a few of them are going to do it gleefully. One of the girls plans to make Katniss’s death ‘good’ (aka torture) if she’s allowed to kill her. Other tributes are killed by arrows, spears, knives, and with bare hands…all by other children.

Reading the book is gut wrenching, because you know the only way Katniss is going to survive is if the others die. And you don’t want most of the others to die, especially Peeta and sweet little twelve-year-old Rue. The reader is in the exact place as the viewer of the Hunger Games, and that is in a troubling thought. The idea is terrifying, plain and simple. The fact that The Hunger Games is marketed towards a young adult audience doesn’t play down that fact. In fact, it quite possibly amplifies it. Folks, by the time you’re finished, you’ll be agreeing that human nature is a scary thing.
I’ll come right out and say it- Coraline is one of the creepiest books I’ve ever read, especially in light of the fact it’s aimed at a young adult audience. It’s the creepy factor that makes me recommend this book to you.

A little girl named Coraline moves into a new home, a massive old house that is divided into apartments. Her parents basically ignore her and Coraline is a solitary girl. When she finds an old key that opens a locked door in a downstairs room, she opens it and goes through a tunnel, despite warnings. On the other side, there is an alternate world that mirrors her own. Here there is her Other Mother and Father, who are identical to her real ones except for the big black buttons for eyes. They treat her the opposite of her parents by showering her with affection and attention, and Coraline loves it. She prefers it to the real world in fact, though she slowly figures out there’s darkness lurking under the surface. It’s an evil that has no plans to let Coraline go.

The Other Mother is one of the creepiest characters I have ever read. She’s too sweet, too loving, and you know there has to be something wrong. She’s the perfect mother, who only wants Coraline to stay and be happy…except you know in your gut that this mother is not. It’s an ominous feeling and you feel a lot of dawning horror when you realize just how right your gut feeling is. Coraline is a great book. Coraline is a creepy book. Coraline certainly isn’t a book I’d suggest reading if you’re home all alone after dark.
I’m kind of a twisted person, and I can easily admit that. I tend to watch all those crime shows (Criminal Minds is my favourite, which is telling enough) and tend to focus on the more bloody side of history. Of said bloody aspects, serial killers hold a (morbid) fascination for me. The one who interests me most? Hands down, Jack the Ripper.
Given those facts, it’s no surprise that, when I saw Patricia Cornwell’s Portrait of a Killer, I picked it up. Cornwell, famous for her fiction mystery novels, seemed to be the perfect person to delve into the case of one of England’s (if not the world’s) most famous serial killers. It’s a non-fiction book, chalk full of historical information and research (as a former history major, that warms my heart).

The book is Cornwell presenting her case about the true identity of Jack the Ripper, which to this day is a mystery. Cornwell presents well researched evidence that the Ripper was, in fact, an intellectual and artist named Walker Sickert. Her research is well done and meticulous, but is it really enough to conclude that Sickert was the killer? Well, let’s just say that, if it was a court case and I was on the jury, I’d convict. That doesn’t mean she’s right, only that her arguments are solid enough to make me agree she could be.

Obviously, this book isn’t for everyone. The content is graphic (it is about a serial killer after all). Crime scene photos of the six murdered women are in the book, and that is a disturbing thing to see (though the pictures themselves are truly not that graphic, given the photography at the time wasn’t that great). To say that you shouldn’t wander idly into this book falls into the range of understatement. Part of what drew me to this book (and the Ripper in general) is the fact that it’s unsolved, and no matter how convincing Cornwell’s argument, it will always remain that way. There are so many theories and conspiracies out there, that the mystery of Jack the Ripper will always remain just that- a mystery. Here, Cornwell gives us a possible answer to this mystery, and a well written one at that.
When I first saw the movie trailer for the movie The Lightning Thief, I was super excited; I have a love of mythology, especially that of ancient Greece (Thank you Xena!). When I found out that the movie was actually an adaptation for a book, it got even more exciting (I’m the kind of person that has to read the book before they see the movie). While the movie sucked, I’m glad to report that the book was as amazing as I wanted it to be.

The Lightning Thief is book one in the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. The book revolves around Perseus Jackson (named after the Greek hero), a twelve-year-old boy who turns out to be a demigod (who has a mortal mother and father who is a god). Now, if you know anything about Greek mythology, you know that the gods having children with mortals was far from rare (the Greek gods were far from models of good behaviour), so there’s plenty of other half bloods around. What is rare about Percy, is that his father is Poseidon, god of the sea (the three big gods –Poseidon, Zeus and Hades- all swore not to have mortal children after WWII, so Percy isn’t supposed to exist). Not only is Percy in trouble for being born, but he had also been accused of stealing Zeus’s master lightning bolt. He has monsters coming at him every which way, including harpies, chimeras and gorgons, and in order to prevent a war from breaking out amongst the gods, he has to go on a quest to find who really took the bolt and return it before the solstice.

The Lightning Thief is brilliantly written, the epic Greek adventures mythology into a modern setting. Even though it’s based in the US, the traveling of the heroes is no less than ancient Greek heroes sailing across the Aegean Sea. Having a working knowledge of mythology is a plus, but you don’t need it to enjoy the book- enough of the 5 W’s (who, what, when, where, why) are explained to give you an idea what’s going on. The book also gives a great twist ending, which as someone who enjoys mysteries, was a great addition to the plot. It also sets up the basis of the rest of the series, which had me intrigued from the moment it was set up. The movie might have been awful, but I still thank it for leading me to this amazing series.
As previously mentioned, I love a book that takes a classic story and then tells it from a different angle, and I just happen to be obsessed with anything that revolves around Arthurian legends. Add those two facts together, and it means I was all in when I came across Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon. What Wicked did for The Wizard of Oz, The Mists of Avalon does for King Arthur.

The Mists of Avalon is the story of the women who lived in the realm of King Arthur, specifically Morgan le Fey (who, despite all odds, has always been my favourite) and it tells is deeper, much darker, and more compassionate story then you’ve ever read before. The characters (particularly the women, who have never really been shown in a good light) are complex, and so real- their pain, their fears, their love, and their joy are all so real. They are not evil and they are not good, because, just like living people, they’re both. There is duality there. Along with the duality of the characters, the world where the story takes place is divided; the mystic (which thankfully appears in all of it’s true, Arthurian glory) world of the Celts against the rise of Christianity, and within that clash, the role of women in each.

Conflict in the story is a constant, and you can never really take a side since both of them seem to make so many mistakes and do bad things. On the other side of the coin, both sides do the right thing and show strength just as much. It is the very human reality in the unforgiving and battling world that makes The Mists of Avalon shine against all the Arthurian tales. It leaves such a lasting impression and keeps you thinking long after you have put it down, and that makes it one of my personal favourites.
Halloween is upon us, and with it of course comes our need to find ways to scare ourselves. There are so many wonderfully creepy things to seek out, from horror movies to scary games, each one a bit more frightening because of the season. It’s the perfect time to curl up in bed, blankets pulled up tight, lights bright to chase away any monsters in the shadows, and tell yourself a scary story. Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is one of the best examples to go for.

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is a collection of twenty-nine of the creepiest short stories aimed at a younger audience that I’ve ever read (and some of the creepiest illustrations aimed at any generation). There are haunted houses, escaped criminals, killers on the loose, magic, the supernatural, and fatal mistakes. One story, The Red Spot, still makes me shudder when I think about it, and I read it years ago. It was my worst childhood fear made real on the page, and it shows just how effective Schwartz’s writing is that it still freaks me out today.

Each story in the book ties into urban legends, the modern-day folklore, that will be familiar to many. Schwartz took some influence from other well-known authors that people have definitely heard of and mixed them into a spookily atmospheric tone that will send shivers down your spine. I have always been fascinated by urban legends, because they are modern day mythology. It tracks the way urbanization and the easy access of culture has influenced the way we tell our society wide stories. We have gone from the epic poems to ‘it happened to a friend of a friend of mine’ and how that reflects on the way the world has changed. This is the kind of thing that gets me excited, but I’m aware that not everyone is a nerd like me. Even if you’re not, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark is an excellent read, spooky and close to haunting. It’s a good scare, whether or not you’re doing it for the Halloween season (though I do highly recommend it for then. Just saying).
Out of all the women in Greek mythology, Helen of Troy ranked fairly low on the ones I was extremely interested in. I loved Homer’s The Odyssey and I like the myth of Troy, but beautiful, docile Helen was far from my favourite character. I felt bad for her the poor woman -she was a prize given to a spoiled prince by an even more spoiled goddess, a political pawn, and the reason that launched a war that destroyed a civilization- but really didn’t put much thought towards her. That said, Esther Friesner’s Nobody’s Princess still appealed to me. I enjoy it when authors take mythology and write it as historical fiction. That’s what Friesner does, and she does it very well.

Helen is most famous for being Helen of Troy, but before that she was Helen of Sparta, and that’s the story Nobody’s Princess tells. The story isn’t Helen’s abduction and the fall of Troy, but Helen’s life before that. The story begins in Sparta where Helen is a princess. This Helen is a lot more interesting than her mythological counterpart. As a princess and a woman, Helen is supposed to act a certain way and have a certain future, but Helen is having none of that (probably helped by the fact her parents let her get away with it for so long). She’s fiery, rebellious, and adventurous (basically, my kind of girl). Helen seizes her freedom whenever she can, and it’s especially seen when Helen leaves Sparta. Helen becomes a major player in some other Greek myths, the most obvious being the Caledonian Boar Hunt. She’s given a part in the events without completely changing the myth itself. She meets other mythological figures, including Atlanta, who is one of my favourite mortal characters in Greek mythology.

Friesner mixes mythology and history wonderfully. The book is far from historically accurate (a note- ancient Sparta was nothing like portrayed), but Friesner still takes the myths and makes them realistic. Greek religion plays a part, but it’s just that- it’s religion, not absolute truth. Gods are mentioned, but never make an appearance (or are even shown to be truly real). Helen meets an array of other mythological characters and they are too made real (one of them even admits that the stories going around –i.e. the myths we know- are a bit of an exaggeration). Nobody’s Princess gives Helen of Troy a personality worth rooting for and brings some of the myths of ancient Greece to life. It’s not only Helen that gets this treatment, but all the other characters as well. For anyone who is a fan of Greek mythology it’s definitely a fun thing to read.
I’ll admit right away that Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’s Diary is not a book I would have ever read of my own free will. If it hadn’t been assigned reading for my first year English literature class, I never would have read it. I didn’t expect to enjoy Bridget Jones’s Diary because there are a lot of things I dislike about ‘Chick Lit’. I hate stereotypes in general, and one that has me cringing is the clingy, dependent, and obsessed with finding a boyfriend/husband woman. What I hate more than that are characters who are under the impression that the only thing women think about are men and then nag a woman if they don’t have a boyfriend. Bridget Jones’s Diary had both these things I hate, but the funny thing is, is I still enjoyed the book.

Bridget Jones is a thirty something woman obsessed with her weight, the amount of alcohol she drinks, and the cigarettes she smokes. She’s neurotic, obsessive compulsive, and has very low impulse control. She’s torn between the two expectations that women face- one, that she’s supposed to be out living this crazy social life. Two, that if you’re not married by the time you’re thirty, you’re a spinster who will never get a man. Everyone in her life seems to be insistent in reminding Bridget of these things. She’s a working woman who has a weird love triangle going on. One guy is a jerk and the other a decent guy. The book is basically the crazy, downright hilarious hijinks in Bridget’s life as she tries to lose weight, stop smoking, get a boyfriend, and figure out her life.

Bridget Jones’s Diary was funny, and that’s the saving grace for me. There were parts that had me laughing out loud because the situations were so ridiculous. Another factor was that Bridget Jones’s Diary takes inspiration from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. It’s not even close when it comes to plot, but you really see it as a (very) loose adaptation of Austen’s book when you look at the characters. A lot of characters mirror those in Pride and Prejudice and it’s interesting to see how these personality types fit into a modern setting. That said, Bridget Jones is no Elizabeth Bennet. I enjoyed this book because it was a fun, easy read. There were times when the feminist in me shuddered and where I almost threw the book across the room, but I liked it for what it was. It’s Chick Lit, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, and honestly? I enjoyed reading it more than quite a few critically acclaimed classics I’ve read.
When done well, I am a big fan of books written in journal form. They can be a fascinating way to read characters and an excellent way to tell a story. One of those books is Witch Child by Celia Rees. Not only is it a journal book, it’s one of the literary equivalents of a found footage film. In this case, pages of the diary of a girl named Mary are found hidden in an old quilt.

Mary is a witch. That’s the declaration she makes in the first few lines of her diary. The year is 1659, and in England, it’s a crime that will get you hanged. That happens to Mary’s grandmother and Mary barely manages to escape being accused and meeting the same fate. With help, she ends up on a ship to the New World, but it’s not long until the same paranoia, dread, and hatred that took her grandmother begins to hang over Mary, ready to destroy her in the same way.

The best part of Witch Child is how amazingly Rees describes the Puritan way of life, especially the darker parts that brought the witch trials full force. The religious totalitarianism and fervor are stifling and frightening. One wrong word, one false accusation from a jealous neighbour, and someone faced the noose. It shows how the mistake of one person can destroy a whole family, and how the lives of women were so confined that the only power they could get was who they married. It shows how closed minded they were, calling Native Americans the devil despite how much they helped the settlers who were way out of their depth. It shows how a witch hunt can snowball until it becomes another Salem. Rees is a master at portraying all this. Witch Child is one of the best YA journal books I’ve gotten my hands on. It told an interesting story, had spectacular characters, covered a fascinating time period, and captured the horror that was the witch trials perfectly.
To call me a feminist just might be an understatement. I’m all about the strong female characters; Mulan is the best Disney girl and Eowyn is one of my fictional heroes (and not only because both those women kick butt. They have depths that are profound). So when I came across Tamora Pierce’s Alanna: The First Adventure, about a girl who wants to be a knight so disguises herself as a boy to do it, I knew it would be for me.

Alanna is the daughter of a wealthy noble in the magical land of Tortall, and despite what her father wants, does not go away and learn how to become a lady. Instead, she takes her brother’s (who wants to become a wizard, not a knight) place and heads off to knight training. Defying a genre trope, when Alanna arrives there, she isn’t the best page. One of the best parts of the story is that Alanna is far from the best. She’s small and understandably weaker physically, so that means that she both has to work harder and is a bully magnet. Yet she doesn’t give up, which is always a good lesson you want to teach. And what kind of adventure story would this be if there wasn’t some type of villain she has to go up against in the end?

This is one of those books that all girls should read (though it is geared towards a younger audience) should read to see just how kick butt female characters can be. Even more than that, it’s one all boys should read for the very same reason. It’s a book that can challenge stereotypes that society teaches all genders, and that’s important. Take it from me- that’s something there can never be enough of.
As you may have noticed by now, I have a love of historical fiction. I just can’t seem to gt enough of itsfdg, and Libba Bray’s A Great and Terrible Beauty is one of my favourites.

Set in the Victorian era, the story begins in India, where Gemma Doyle, a young British woman, lives with her family. One terrible day, a man approaches Gemma’s mother and warns her that by day’s end she would be dead. With that, Gemma has her first vision. Gemma is shipped off to a finishing school in England (much to her delight) and it is there, along with her three new friends/frenemies that she discovers her newly developing powers. She discovered she can enter The Realms, a magical world full of mystery. Of course there are dangers lurking both inside and outside The Realms, one of them being Kartik, a young Indian boy who has followed her. He says that he knows the only way to protect her, but it’s obvious that he’s hiding things too.

Though the plot alone is enough reason to read this book, another reason the book is so good is the characterization (another thing I love- well written characters). The four main girls are complex: Pippa and Felicity are both popular snobs, yet insecure. Ann is a quiet outcast who has true talent and would give anything to change herself. Then there’s Gemma, who will not change herself to fit in and yet does risky things in order to prove herself. Along with all that we get an amazing look at the Victorian era, a historical period where morals were unbending and society rigid. We’re shown the pressures that the girls are under, how they’ve expected to conform to what society expects of them and how they’re supposed to give up their individuality. All in all this is one of my favourite books- historical, fantasy, suspense, and even a little forbidden romance all mixed into one beautifully told narrative that will keep you entranced until the very last word.
V C Andrews is one of my favourite authors. In fact, I own a good chunk of the books she’s written, including those written by the ghostwriter after her death. Unfortunately, most of her books cover some pretty taboo subjects that I understand will not be for everyone. That’s why I’m usually fairly hesitant to recommend her books (and always add a lot of trigger warnings when I do). I still really like them, so it makes me happy that
my favourite series isn’t as risqué, which makes me feel it’s not as much of a risk to recommend it to everyone.

Ruby is the first book in the Landry series. It takes us down to the Louisiana bayou, where Ruby lives with her conniving grandfather and kind grandmother. Her mother died giving birth to her, but there’s more to the story than Ruby has ever been told. On her deathbed, her grandmother tells Ruby that she has a twin sister. Their father was a married man who took one baby, while Ruby’s existence was kept a secret and she was left behind. When Ruby finds out another shocking secret concerning her boyfriend Paul, she goes to find her long lost father. The glitzy world that she finds herself in is nothing like she expected. Her stepmother hates her, he twin Giselle is cruel and hateful, especially when her boyfriend Beau begins to fall for Ruby.

Out of all of V C Andrew’s memorable characters, Ruby has always stood out to me. She is the most intriguing of them all (and V C Andrews has a lot of characters). You feel her whirlwind journey and it touches your heart. The setting itself, especially the bayou, is great. The culture of Louisiana, both the rich and the poor, is something we’re given a fine taste of. We also get a little bit of voodoo thrown in, and that’ll make any tale that much better. I’ll caution that the books does contain some pretty mature subject matter, thus is not for everyone. That said, if you’re feeling like a more adult book that touches on some heavy subjects and has an awesome storyline, then definitely look at getting your hands on a copy of Ruby.
It seems that I’m in the mood to cover some sequels to books I’ve already reviewed. Like previous entries, if you haven’t read the first book, then there will be spoilers in this review. So read at your own risk! This time, I’m going to be talking about the sequel to one of the first books I ever reviewed, Gregory Maguire’s ‘Wicked’. This is the second book in ‘The Wicked Years’ series and the topic of this review is ‘Son of a Witch’.

If you remember ‘Wicked’ at all (and you should, since it was such a memorable book), you’ll recall that we were left with more questions than answers. The biggest question, in my humble opinion, is whether or not Liir, the boy who traveled with Elphaba for the last part of ‘Wicked’, is her son or not. ‘Son of a Witch’ is Liir’s story. It is, primarily, a coming of age story. It follows Liir from the end of ‘Wicked’ to his adult years. He is searching for his origins, which are as murky to him as they are for the reader. Of course, it’s not going to be an easy road. The situation in Oz is growing worse, and as the potential son of the Wicked Witch of the West, it’s even more dangerous for Liir in particular. Elphaba has come to represent the resistance to the tyranny of the Wizard. There are people out there who won’t allow Liir to possibly carry on her legacy.

‘Son of a Witch’ is a dark story, like ‘Wicked’ before it. It can be downright gruesome at times, and is not a book where they all live happily ever after as an ending. In fact, the book would have suffered if Maguire had gone that way. ‘Son of a Witch’ isn’t as good as ‘Wicked’, but that might just be because Elphaba was my favourite character, and she is not in the book. As a hero, Liir is harder to like. Most of the time, he comes off as even more of an anti-hero than Elphaba. It’s an interesting book and a great continuation of Maguire’s adaptation of the Oz stories. Believe me, after reading these two books, you’ll never watch ‘The Wizard of Oz’ movie the same way again.
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