Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Books

Unnatural Death by Dorothy L. Sayers: B

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From the back cover:
The wealthy Agatha Dawson is dead and there are no apparent signs of foul play. Yet debonair detective Lord Peter Wimsey senses that something is amiss and he refuses to let the case rest, even without any clues or leads. Suddenly he is faced with another murder: Agatha’s maid. Can Lord Peter find the murderer and solve the case before he becomes the next victim?

Review:
Unnatural Death was another decent mystery in the Lord Peter Wimsey series. Despite some fairly dull patches, I think I liked it a bit more than its immediate predecessor.

Good things include the introduction of Miss Climpson, a resourceful old maid whom Peter hires to do some investigation on his behalf, recognizing “useful energy and inquisitive power” of her kind. Her reports to Peter were generally amusing and I hope to see more of her in the future. I also liked that, although it was never explicitly stated, the victim seemed to be the surviving half of a happy lesbian couple who’d been together for decades.

I wasn’t so keen on the tedium of family trees or inheritance laws, however. And while it was unique to know exactly who had done it but not how, it didn’t do much to establish a sense of menace or urgency. It was more a quest for sufficient evidence to prosecute than a manhunt. Things did pick up a bit at the end, though. It also occurs to me that there wasn’t very much Bunter, though he was essential in sussing out the big twist of the case.

I’ve liked the Wimsey mysteries I’ve read so far well enough, but if they were all in this vein, I think I might tire of them eventually. Happily, I’ve got something like Gaudy Night to look forward to.

Clouds of Witness by Dorothy L. Sayers: B

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From the back cover:
Murder strikes too close to home! Lord Peter, noted detective, scholar, and bon vivant, is summoned to the Wimsey family retreat, which offers country pleasures and the thrill of the hunt. But when the prey turns out to be human and quite dead, wearing slippers and a dinner jacket, the thrill wanes. The victim is the fiancé of Lord Peter’s sister. And the accused? None other than Lord Peter’s own brother, the Duke of Denver. Despite overwhelming circumstantial evidence, Lord Peter is certain his brother is innocent and launches his own investigation. Can he find the truth in time to save the family name and spare his brother the gallows?

Review:
Clouds of Witness is a decent enough mystery, I suppose, but it won’t rank as one of my favorites.

I find it difficult to nail down a precise flaw that prompts my lack of enthusiasm, but I think it’s personal drama for the investigators (as in P. D. James or Elizabeth George) that I am missing, and I know I oughtn’t expect that from Sayers. The investigation is very clue-driven, and includes a few lucky coincidences. They didn’t bother me as much as in Tey’s books, but I do wonder whether Whose Body? was similar and I just didn’t notice it.

The best part about Sayers is that it’s often quite amusing, not just the little remarks that people make but also the way Peter’s quirks are dealt with. I especially appreciated a scene where he punctuates his words with little digs into his pipe, and the drunken epilogue was also cute. Less cute was Peter’s miraculous recovery from a gunshot wound to the shoulder that’s never mentioned again, even when he is hauled bodily out of a bog by a rope under his armpits a mere four days later. Oopsies.

The Tiger in the Well by Philip Pullman: B

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From the back cover:
It’s 1881, and life has been good to Sally Lockhart. Unlike most Victorian women, Sally is completely independent, with her own successful business and a comfortable home for her young daughter, Harriet.

But Sally’s whole world is about to collapse. A stranger emerges, claiming to be both her husband and Harriet’s father and threatening all that she has—her business, her child, her very sanity. Sally realizes with growing horror that there is a guiding hand behind this deceit: someone who hates her so passionately that he has devoted years to bringing about her ruin. And there’s only one man that could possibly be…

Review:
No tears this time, but the best ending line ever made me crack up. Pullman has a real knack for unexpected perspectives. In the last book, it was Chaka the dog, and here it was Harriet, Sally’s two-year-old daughter. The (lamentably few) sections from her point of view were among my favorites in the book.

Structurally, The Tiger in the Well was similar to the first book in the series, The Ruby in the Smoke. For quite a while, things didn’t make much sense. There were two different story lines going on and because it wasn’t apparent why I should care about anything not involving Sally, the second story (involving Jews and socialists) was very boring. Pullman did bring everything together eventually, but it took rather too long for my tastes.

Another difference about this book from the others was that Sally largely had to face the peril alone. The threat of losing custody of Harriet drove her out of her comfortable existence and into hiding in parts of London she’d never had cause to visit, caused her to encounter poverty, misery, and exploitation that she’d not previously been exposed to. She also had to care for Harriet on her own and realized how much she was missing by choosing work over Harriet and leaving her in a nurse’s care.

That said, I really missed her friends, especially Jim. Without them, too, Sally wasn’t always as fearless, and sometimes let herself be swept along, as with a patronizing solicitor, longer than usual before finally snapping back to her determined self. These lapses were hard to endure, and sometimes even felt a little out of character.

My last complaint is that the identity of the villain was completely obvious throughout the entire book. Pullman was forced to include a mention of something near the beginning so that readers who started with this book would later understand the significance of the big reveal. To me, that just gave it all away. Also, the reader received several clues that Sally did not, so when she finally put it together, it was not as climactic as it could’ve been.

Even with all of these things to grumble about, I ultimately did still enjoy the story. It got a lot better in the last third or so, once Sally had some allies to help her out and had regained her spirits. The ending hints at her future happiness, as well. Though there is one more book in the series, it does not actually focus on Sally, so it’s nice to have an inkling about how she’ll spend the rest of her life.

The Shadow in the North by Philip Pullman: A-

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From the back cover:
The year is 1878, and the spirited Sally Lockhart, once again defying Victorian sensibilities, has gone into business for herself. When one of her clients loses a large sum of money in the unexpected collapse of a British shipping firm, Sally sets out to investigate. But as she delves deeper into the identity of the wealthy and elusive industrialist who owns the doomed company, she uncovers a plot so diabolical that it could eventually subvert the entire civilized world—and if Sally’s enemies have their way, she won’t live long enough to see it happen.

Philip Pullman continues the nerve-shattering story of his canny and courageous heroine in this second Sally Lockhart mystery.

Review:
Pullman made me cry like a great big sap again! And more than once, this time.

The Shadow in the North took place 6 years after the first book in the series, and the main characters underwent some changes in that time. Sally, awesomely, attended Cambridge and set up her own financial consulting business. Fred, the photographer, was personally much the same but had been trying unsuccessfully for years to get Sally to marry him, which led to several wonderful half-loving, half-antagonistic scenes between them. Jim, the erstwhile office boy, grew up into a young man with a taste for action and a way with the ladies.

By far, the characters were the best part about the book. I loved each of the three main characters, but found many of the random people encountered as part of the investigation to be interesting, as well. I was also quite fond of Sally’s dog, Chaka. Probably because Pullman took care to show how much the fiercely loyal and protective dog loved her. Okay, yes, this was one thing that made me cry.

I didn’t think the mystery was all that interesting, though. The question was more “how do these things fit together?” and largely dealt with industrial misdeeds. Perhaps that was the point, though. This case, which might seem rather mundane on the surface, ended up impacting the characters most profoundly. And since that is what’s most important to me, I still enjoyed the book very much.

A note on the audio edition: Anton Lesser was again amazing as narrator, but I think the book might actually have been censored. While referencing my paper copy, I noticed that one paragraph, prelude to an act of physical intimacy, was excised and that some lines of post-coital dialogue were altered. The omitted bits were kind of clumsily unsubtle, so it’s possible that Pullman himself did a rewrite at some point, but it does make one suspicious.

Anne of the Island by L. M. Montgomery: A-

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From the back cover:
New adventures lie ahead as Anne Shirley packs her bags, waves good-bye to childhood, and heads for Redmond College. With old friend Prissy Grant waiting in the bustling city of Kingsport and frivolous new pal Philippa Gordon at her side, Anne tucks her memories of rural Avonlea away and discovers life on her own terms, filled with surprises… including a marriage proposal from the worst fellow imaginable, the sale of her very first story, and a tragedy that teaches her a painful lesson.

But tears turn to laughter when Anne and her friends move into an old cottage and an ornery black cat steals her heart. Little does Anne know that handsome Gilbert Blythe wants to win her heart, too. Suddenly Anne must decide if she’s ready for love…

Review:
There were so many things to like about Anne of the Island that they almost allow me to forget the things I wasn’t wild about.

As usual, I loved anything that pertained to Anne and Gilbert. Some of Montgomery’s best writing yet was in the scenes between them, I thought, as well as the scene where Anne refuses Gilbert’s only serious rival for her affections. I also liked how, through various encounters with suitors and the true hearts of even gallant-looking men, Anne was stripped of many of her unrealistic romantic illusions. Lastly, I appreciated the wistful lamentations on the necessity of change.

The things I didn’t like may seem trivial by comparison, but they were irksome enough before the Anne and Gilbert bits overshadowed them in my memory. I would’ve liked more detail on Anne’s school life. There was occasional information about the subjects she was taking or exams she was studying for, but no scenes at all of her in class. It seemed there was actually more detail on Davy’s exploits than on her education.

And speaking of Davy, how I dreaded his appearances! I knew that he’d get up to something, be overcome with guilt, and then learn a valuable lesson. Every time. I was also beyond tired of his constantly saying, “I want to know.”

Finally, I disliked the bit where Anne and her roommates attempted to euthanize a cat simply for hanging around their house. Thankfully, the chapter was constructed in such a way that his survival was already known before the act was described. And then, a few chapters later, some dude is hanging a dog! What’s up with all the pet killing?! Also, a male cat is described as calico, which would make him an extremely rare genetic anomaly. It isn’t impossible, but I rather think Montgomery just didn’t know that tricolor cats are almost exclusively female.

Incorrect Item from Pantry Tally:
1. currant wine instead of raspberry cordial
2. linament instead of vanilla
3. red dye instead of freckle lotion
4. white pepper instead of ginger

Size 12 is Not Fat by Meg Cabot: D

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From the back cover:
Heather wells rocks!

Or, at least, she did. That was before she left the pop-idol life behind after she gained a dress size or two—and lost a boyfriend, a recording contract, and her life savings. Now that the glamour and glory days of endless mall appearances are in the past, Heather’s perfectly happy with her new size 12 shape and her new job as an assistant dorm director at one of New York’s top colleges. That is, until the dead body of a female student from Heather’s residence hall is discovered at the bottom of an elevator shaft.

The cops and the college president are ready to chalk the death off as an accident, the result of reckless youthful mischief. But Heather knows teenage girls… and girls do not elevator surf. Yet no one wants to listen even when more students start turning up dead in equally ordinary and subtly sinister ways. So Heather makes the decision to take on yet another new career: as spunky girl detective!

But her new job comes with few benefits, no cheering crowds, and lots of liabilities, some of them potentially fatal. And nothing ticks off a killer more than a portly ex-pop star who’s sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong…

Review:
Um, blurb writers? Portly means fat.

I’ve read a lot by Meg Cabot, so I wasn’t expecting greatness, but this book is downright bad. Heather is incredibly annoying and distressingly immature for a 28-year-old. She’s planning to enter college and is considering a pre-med major. Why? Does she have a genuine interest in medicine? Does she feel it’s her calling to help people? Nope. It’s just because she thinks the guy she fancies prefers professional women. And she makes comments like (paraphrased) “What 18-year-old girl wouldn’t be so flattered by a cute older dude’s attentions that she’d be willing to boff him on very little acquaintance?”

Let’s pause here so you can envision the steam pouring from my ears.

Her “investigation” is pretty excruciating. Much of it is based on assumptions, like “girls who like Ziggy would not elevator surf” and some of the conclusions reached are unsupported or nonsensical. All too frequently, the mystery (such as it is—I guessed the culprit very early on) takes a backseat to Heather’s unwelcome and uninteresting romantic shenanigans. She can’t even manage to search a dead girl’s room properly without being distracted by a dude’s butt.

I could go on, but I really just want to put this whole thing behind me. As my husband punningly put it, “This book was read, and then it blew.” I urge all to steer clear of this one.

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg: B

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From the back cover:
Twelve-year-old Claudia Kincaid is restless. She wants to do something different, leaving her comfortable suburban life in Connecticut behind for awhile. And she wants to be gone just long enough to teach her parents to appreciate her. But as Claudia plans to run away, not just any place will do. She wants to live in style—in a place with a bit of luxury and some good company. Claudia settles on New York City’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. She invites her younger brother Jamie to come along too, not for companionship, but mostly because he is a miser and has saved up some money.

Unfortunately, the live-in at the museum isn’t all Claudia had hoped. She doesn’t feel any different than before. And soon she finds herself in the middle of an interesting museum mystery. Claudia sees a statue so beautiful that she cannot head back to Connecticut until she discovers its maker. The first clue is the statue’s former owner, Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, an unusual old woman who helps Claudia finally find her way home.

Review:
Children’s fiction is pretty hit or miss with me, it seems. Sometimes I love it to pieces, and other times I think I’m too old to really get it. I’m sure it would be fun for a 10-year-old to read about running away or having a secret, and they’d probably identify with all the sibling squabbles and stuff, but a stodgy grown-up like me can’t really get excited about any of it.

It was cute, and the idea that Claudia’s compulsion to run away (with every intention of returning) was all about the search for herself was kind of a subtle one. It’s not like she learned some “valuable lesson” about tolerance or something. It was rather old-fashioned, as one might expect from something penned in the ’60s, and on a few occasions, I’d swear the siblings’ dialogue wouldn’t have been out of place in some sitcom from that era.

I did really enjoy the illustrations done by the author. Claudia and Jamie were modelled after her own children and the drawings add further charm to the story—I particularly like the one where they’re looking rather bored while researching in a library.

I just wish I’d read it when I were younger.

Emma by Jane Austen: A

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From the back cover:
“Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever and rich, with a comfortable house and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.”

With this opening sentence, a reader might seem quite justified in thinking Jane Austen to have painted herself into a corner. What could possibly happen from here? In Austen’s comedic masterpiece, however, Emma fancies herself a superb judge of human character and becomes entrenched in the amorous affairs of her friends. In doing so, she remains oblivious to her own romantic possibilities, and the resulting comical misunderstandings are highly entertaining.

This book is the acme of Jane Austen’s work, wry and funny all at the same time.

Review:
Merriam-Webster defines bildungsroman as “a novel about the moral and psychological growth of the main character.” I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that fit that description more than Emma.

I didn’t much care for the title character at first. In fact, she initially reminded me of Lady Catherine from Pride and Prejudice, dispensing unsolicited advice and basing many of her opinions on assumptions and an inordinate amount of focus on social standing. I found myself gleefully anticipating her comeuppance.

When she did begin to improve, Austen handled the transition incrementally, using friends to prompt Emma to give up meddling or urge her to accept a social engagement she’d believed beneath her notice. She learned from rebukes and mistakes and gradually became someone more likeable. The feminist in me tells me I should be perturbed that so many of these chastising remarks were delivered by her eventual love interest, but since Mr. Knightley was my favorite character, I can’t really be bothered.

The events of the plot were somewhat predictable, in a “the young lady introduced into the story in act two must be destined for the young man introduced not long after” sort of way. A big secret revealed toward the end was not a particular surprise, and also seemed recycled from Sense and Sensibility. Also, as I’m coming to find common in Austen’s novels, the sillier characters were given such free rein to display their ridiculousness that they really got on my nerves.

The end of the novel, however, was satisfying. I liked the way in which Emma was forced to finally realize her feelings for Mr. Knightley, as well as the mortification and regret over her past conduct that ensued. The conclusion could be called too tidy, I suppose, with no one left lonely or unhappy, but I found no fault with it.

Anne of Avonlea by L. M. Montgomery: B+

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From the back cover:
At sixteen Anne is grown up… almost. Her gray eyes shine like evening stars, but her red hair is still as peppery as her temper. In the years since she arrived at Green Gables as a freckle-faced orphan, she has earned the love of the people of Avonlea and a reputation for getting into scrapes. But when Anne begins her job as the new schoolteacher, the real test of her character begins.

Along with teaching the three Rs, she is learning how complicated life can be when she meddles in someone else’s romance, finds two new orphans at Green Gables, and wonders about the strange behavior of the very handsome Gilbert Blythe. As Anne enters womanhood, her adventures touch the heart and the funny bone.

Review:
There were some things that irritated me about Anne of Avonlea, even though it’s similar to its predecessor in pacing and story. Chiefly, I missed the adult perspective I enjoyed so much in the earlier work. There weren’t many segments at all from Marilla’s point of view this time around and without that fond yet practical outlook, Anne and her dreamy ramblings sometimes got on my nerves. I also found irritating two little boys, one mischievous and one fanciful, that it seemed I was supposed to find precious.

I did, however, like any scene where Anne and Gilbert were together or any where a potential relationship between them was discussed. The entire final quarter of the book—featuring a storm, a death, a wedding, and several departures—was also very good. Marilla made me all sniffly again, too, by arranging for it to be possible for Anne to go to college after all, an aspiration she had set aside in order to stay with Marilla, whose eyesight was failing. The college setting should put Anne and Gilbert together more often, and I’m looking forward to that.

As a final note, I’m going to start a tally of how many times Anne gets into a scrape as the result of grabbing the incorrect item from a pantry. So far, from the first two books, I have:
1. currant wine instead of raspberry cordial
2. linament instead of vanilla
3. red dye instead of freckle lotion.

Feel free to alert me in comments if I’ve missed any.

Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery: A+

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From the back cover:
The Cuthberts of Green Gables had decided to adopt an orphan—a nice sturdy boy to help Matthew with the farm chores. The orphanage sent a girl instead—a mischievous, talkative redhead who’d be no use at all. She would just have to go back.

But the longer Anne was there, the more no one could imagine Green Gables without her.

Review:
It’s really a wonderful thing when one can revisit a childhood favorite, unread for twenty years, and find that one loves it just as much as ever. It’s better still to find new things about it to love that went unnoticed by one’s younger self.

The things I’d remembered about this book were mostly Anne’s scrapes. I remembered too the characters who were important to Anne—Diana her bosom friend, Gilbert her rival, Matthew who loved her, and Marilla who was stern—but not a great deal about the adult characters beyond that. This time, I really noticed them, and was surprised to find how much I liked them in their own right, particularly Marilla.

I only recalled that Marilla came to love Anne eventually, but this time I could see how quickly it actually happened. I had no memory of noticing the frequent headaches she’d get, or how she reacted in desperate terror when an unconscious Anne was brought to Green Gables after a fall. Near the end of the book, when Marilla finally came out and told Anne she’d loved her all this time, I cried like a great big sap. I also began to see Anne more from the Cuthberts’ perspective, vulnerable and neglected at first and then later a source of tremendous pride.

I could pick out a few trifling matters to criticize, but my joy at rediscovering this book is so great that I don’t feel inclined to do so. I never did finish the series as a kid—I think I lost interest as Anne moved into adulthood—but am determined to rectify the matter.

A Shilling for Candles by Josephine Tey: B-

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From the back cover:
On a clear, sunny morning on the southern coast of England, the screaming gulls announce the location of a ghastly deed. The body of famous screen actress Christine Clay is found lying limp on the beach. Was it an accidental death, or murder? For Scotland Yard’s Inspector Grant, the case becomes a nightmare of too many clues and too many motives, as the world is full of people who wanted the movie star dead.

Review:
This really isn’t a big improvement over the last one. Coincidence still trumps actual investigation as a method for discovering facts. An example is the plucky girl who, convinced of someone’s innocence, goes off in search of an overcoat that will prove it. And just so happens to run into a lorry driver (at the first place she stops to inquire) who gave a lift to an itinerant china mender who’s well-known for nicking overcoats and boots. And whaddaya know, he leads her to the coat.

Two more holdovers from the first novel are the foreigner bashing (though less prevalent this time) and the idea of an actress so radiant that she outshines her leading men. The mystery itself is okay, I guess, though nothing really great. A couple of new characters are fun, though. I wouldn’t mind seeing Erica (the aforementioned plucky girl) again and crime reporter “Jammy” Hopkins is also a fairly interesting addition.

Another of Tey’s Inspector Grant mysteries, The Daughter of Time, has been much praised, but right now I’m having a little difficulty reconciling these first two books with something of such (alleged) calibre.

Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) by Jerome K. Jerome: B+

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From the back cover:
“There were four of us—George, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and Montmorency.”

Three men, and a dog, in a boat on one of the prettiest waterways in the world—the Thames—in summer. Idyllic, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps, if George hadn’t insisted on camping, and if someone had remembered the can-opener, and if… well, maybe not idyllic, but certainly hilarious, as you’ll discover when you take the trip yourself with three men and their dog.

Review:
Typically, things deemed “hilarious” rouse in me only a smile, but this book really did elicit a large quantity of giggles and one all-out cackle. This last, however, was the result of a bit of creative license taken by the fabulous narrator, John Rainer (who sounded like a cross between Sylvester McCoy and Ringo Starr—a compliment, I assure you!), where he added some panting sound effects to a bit of doggy dialogue. I seriously rewound it, like, six times and made other people listen to it, too. His performance was responsible for making this book even funnier than it ordinarily would have been.

The premise of the book was simple: believing themselves to be generally ill, overworked, and in need of rest, a trio of friends decided it would be beneficial to their health to have a jaunt up the Thames. What followed was a mix of travelogue, silly mishaps and escapades, random and tangential musings, and the occasional rhapsodic ode to nature. The majority of the time, these were entertaining—I particularly liked the segments on “delights of early morning bathing” and “disadvantages of living in same house with pair of lovers”—but occasionally, especially in the case of the rhapsodic odes, it got rather dull. It seemed the end was especially laden with these episodes and so, in consequence, dragged.

I was a fan of British humor to begin with, but I definitely enjoyed this book more than I’d expected to. I’ve heard the sequel, Three Men on the Bummel, isn’t quite as amusing, but I’ll probably check it out all the same. Rainer doesn’t appear to’ve recorded it, alas.

Hornblower During the Crisis by C. S. Forester: B

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From the back cover:
Although unfinished at the time of C. S. Forester’s death, Hornblower During the Crisis delivers a full measure of action at sea—the hallmark of this incomparably exciting series of historical adventures.

On the threshold of securing his first post as captain, Hornblower finds himself forced by the exigencies of war to fight alongside a man whom he has unintentionally helped to court-martial. And for the first time, Hornblower assents to engaging in espionage in his efforts to bring victory and glory to England in the Napoleonic Wars.

This extant fragment of Forester’s final Hornblower novel is followed by the author’s notes regarding the novel’s conclusion. Also included in this volume are two stories—”Hornblower’s Temptation” and “The Last Encounter”—that depict the great sea dog Hornblower in his youth and old age, respectively.

Review:
I liked what there was of Hornblower During the Crisis, but the best was probably yet to come. Hornblower had the opportunity for one daring exploit and to hatch one clever plan, but that was about it.

The short stories weren’t too exciting, either. The first, here called “Hornblower’s Temptation” but also known as “Hornblower and the Widow McCool,” initially reminded me a little of The Crying Game. Hornblower was appointed to oversee a captured deserter and, in his role as reluctant executioner, made a deal with the prisoner to convey a message to his widow. Things unfolded quite differently than expected, but since it all played out kind of like a Nancy Drew adventure game, the effect was less than amazing.

In “The Last Encounter,” Hornblower was 72 and was enjoying a post-prandial glass of port when a fellow turned up at his house claiming to be Napoleon Bonaparte. This story was short and kind of pointless, though it did have a couple of cute moments between Hornblower and his wife, Barbara.

If I’d been a Forester fan as he was writing, I surely would’ve been disappointed with this final collection of his Hornblower works. Happily, though, since I’ve switched to reading by internal chronology, I’ve got two further books to go that hopefully will be better than this.

Shade’s Children by Garth Nix: B+

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From the back cover:
In a brutal city of the future, human life is in the hands of the evil Overlords who have decreed that no child live a day past his fourteenth birthday. On that Sad Birthday, the child is the object of an obscene harvest—his brains and muscles are used to construct machine-like creatures whose sole purpose is to kill.

The mysterious Shade—once a man, but now more like the machines he fights—recruits the few children lucky enough to escape. He gives them food, shelter, and the training they need to fight the Overlords. But Shade’s sent many children out on missions—and fewer of them are coming back.

By luck, cunning, and skill, four of Shade’s children—Ella, Drum, Ninde, and Gold-Eye—have come closer than any to discovering the source of the Overlords’ power—and the key to their downfall. But the closer the children get, the more ruthless Shade seems to become…

Review:
My friend at work loaned this to me many months ago, and I’ve finally managed to read it. Happily, it was good, so polite dissembling on that point won’t be required.

I definitely enjoyed the book. The Overlords were really creepy and neat, and there were some good surprises along the way. I particularly liked Ella; she kind of reminded me of Buffy at times. She even pondered using a rocket launcher against her foes!

But… I wanted more. I wanted to see more of society both before and after this Change occurred. I wanted to see more of the rest of Shade’s Children (both past and present), to see more missions, to delve more deeply into the characters. Gold-Eye is kind of the protagonist, for it was through his newbie eyes that Shade’s organization was revealed to the reader, but he had the least personality of the four kids. He liked girls. That was about it.

Ultimately, although Shade’s Children afforded more of a glimpse of a world rather than its exploration, it was still completely worth reading and made me want to seek out more by Nix. Thanks, work buddy!

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen: A+

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From the back cover:
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” Thus memorably begins Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, one of the world’s most popular novels. From the initial friction between the opinionated Elizabeth Bennet and the arrogant, wealthy Mr. Darcy, this witty comedy of manners dips and turns through its interlocking plots to reach an immensely satisfying conclusion.

Filled with highly entertaining dialogue, Pride and Prejudice is, in the words of Eudora Welty, as “irresistible and as nearly flawless as any fiction could be.”

Review:
There isn’t much that I can say in praise of Pride and Prejudice that hasn’t already been said often and better. So, instead I shall just enthuse on various things.

I love that Darcy secretly despises those who constantly court his approval, and loves Elizabeth for her liveliness of mind and playful, unaffected manner.

The writing is snarky and very cleverly wrought, with sentences like: “Their indifference towards Jane, when not immediately before them, restored Elizabeth to the enjoyment of all her original dislike.”

I adore Mr. Bennet, especially his amusement in the foolish behavior of others. Best line (occurring in a scene where his wife expects his cooperation in furthering her aims): “Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”

There are many great scenes, but my favorites are possibly those at the Netherfield ball, where most of the members of the Bennet family behave in a highly embarrassing fashion and where Darcy and Elizabeth have a conversation about Wickham whilst they dance. I also quite enjoy his bungled first proposal.

The minor characters are often very amusing. They’re also capable of grating on the nerves, though, especially Lydia and her absolute lack of repentance after her scandalous behavior with Wickham.

So, I find I concur heartily with the quote above. “Nearly flawless,” indeed.