bookwookiee

Great little primer that makes veganism accessible. It's much more than a cookbook with nearly the entire first half dedicated to the social, economic, ethical, environmental, and political reasons that someone might choose to be vegan - whether just in diet or by adopting a total vegan lifestyle. That's not standard for a cookbook but I think it's a great idea for something like this. I also thought the myth busting was helpful and would provide a good little cheat sheet for new vegans who will be peppered with questions and skepticism (how do you get enough protein, do you get all your nutrients, athletes can't be vegan, I could never afford it, etc.). Few diets and lifestyles get hated on as much as veganism does and taking the time to address the motives and intentions behind it (rather than just writing it off as a trend) is a great idea - it makes it much less about "it's a privilege to eat this way" and more about "it's responsible to eat this way". As I learn more about the food industry it gets harder to ignore the ugly side of things and I think even if we choose not to eat a vegetarian/vegan diet, we should be fully aware of what that means.

The recipes in the second half are nice intro recipes - nothing too wild and crazy. Newman runs through some basics and staples that would provide a solid foundation for a newbie to build on. I checked this out from the library and liked it so much I decided to buy it. I haven't experimented with the recipes yet, but I will when I get my own copy. I'm a vegetarian but have been considering making the dietary switch to veganism and this book certainly made it seem doable.

Full of beautifully photographed recipes. Some are a bit beyond my reach at the moment but it's good to aim high, right? I checked this out from the library and after giving it a once over I promptly decided to buy it. There are enough everyday recipes that it will come in handy on a regular basis and enough elaborate recipes (and ones that would be on the pricier side) that it'll be good to pull out for special occasions too. I can't wait to give it a test run!

Fates and Furies has all the fixings of a classic Greek tragedy...or is it comedy? As Groff reminds us throughout, it's all a matter of perspective. This is a story of passion, betrayal, rage, loss, lust, revenge, hubris, plotting, epic love, and epic deception. All this peppered with the occasional omniscient aside, a la classic Greek chorus. At the center of this storm we find Lotto and Mathilde, an ambitious and enthralling couple whose marriage - the bedrock for both - is built on half-truths and misconceptions.

This framework allows Groff to be both playful and self-indulgent in her narrative. She introduces us to a group of preposterous characters who find themselves leading equally preposterous lives. She isn't exactly subtle, either, in hammering home her very meta intentions. Early on, Lotto's drama teacher instructs us on how to read this work. We read plays embedded within the larger narrative, go to operas, and attend art shows. Many of the characters' names are a nod to other characters from great works of art and myth - Lancelot being the most obvious. Her narrators regularly quote major players in the literary/art world. Art criticism and the creative process play a major role in their motives and moods. [The Greek chorus asides, though delightful, are yet another example.] And don't think those mentions of gesamtkunstwerk and ekphrasis went unnoticed.

In short, Groff makes sure we know that this is not just the story of a marriage. Instead, she uses it as a sounding board for her commentary on the creative process and the power of great art to tap into something visceral within us. Perhaps Lotto and Mathilde's marriage - charged, electric, painful, devout, ecstatic, consuming, devastating - mirrors the marriage between artist and expression, truth and beauty? It speaks to the struggle of remaining faithful to our truths while trying to contribute something meaningful to the world. Though at times overwrought, this story is, in the end, deeply moving and intimate, the pretense giving way to emotional veracity.

Reading this book is kind of like being in a hypnagogic trance - one foot in the dream world, one in the waking world, and a general sense of being unsettled. I've never read a book with such a heavy noir vibe that was set in the countryside - let alone the Swedish countryside circa the 1700s. But it totally works. The narrative lulls you along as you stumble into these pockets of something's-not-quite-right. And when I say lull, I don't mean that in a negative sense. Quite the opposite. The writing is melodic and almost entrancing, resulting in a very atmospheric read.

I wouldn't exactly call it a page-turner. It's not as easy to digest as the blockbuster thrillers and mysteries of past few summers (re: Gone Girl, Girl on the Train), but it has plenty of surprises and definitely pays off if you give it a little time. The characters are well established, the mystery thoroughly plotted, with a satisfying (though a bit hasty) end. I would definitely recommend this for mystery fans, particularly if you like Scandinavian mysteries.

In the months following her best friend’s death, Isabel struggles with loss, guilt, and an imploding family life. Weaving memories together with present day events, Isabel slowly comes to grips with questions that anyone who’s lost a loved one asks. Real relationships are messy, so how do we make things right when someone suddenly disappears? How do we make it through to the other side of that loss? How do we move forward without leaving them behind? Fox’s writing conveys an intimate understanding of the complexity of grief and its many cyclical stages. That said, there is a definite lightness to this book, an underlying thread of humor. Though Isabel uses humor as a method of deflecting attention away from her problems, it nevertheless keeps the novel surprisingly upbeat.

There were a few main things I really appreciated about this novel.
1) This reads like grief feels. There were a few beautifully crafted sentences that hyperbolized the process, but (unlike so many other novels dealing with loss) it didn’t feel gratuitous. It was very honest. I really loved when Isabel starts to breath again and realizes she can keep living. It was really well done - the sense of betrayal and guilt at not being constantly sad alongside the feeling that you’re seeing the world around you through a new lens. Just perfect.

2) I cannot understate how much I appreciate reading a novel where a real, complicated female friendship was the core relationship. Female friendships - especially long lasting ones - are so intense and complicated and multi-faceted and intimate. This type of realistic portrayal of a friendship is one that I always go nuts for in a novel because it’s so rarely done (or rather...it’s so rarely done well). Isabel and Josie’s relationship felt so tragically real.

3) Being from Milwaukee, I always feel a brief swell of pride when any piece of pop culture features my fair city. We're your standard mid-sized Midwestern city, always over shadowed by Chicago, so when we get a few minutes in the sun it always warms my cold, cold heart.

I would recommend this for anyone who's known personal loss or anyone dealing with a Relationship in Transition (read it...then you'll get it).

Peter is a man reformed - he battled his demons, he found a wife, he found God, and he found peace. He's someone who loves people. As The Book of Strange New Things opens, Peter prepares to embark on a journey to a planet galaxies away. Once there he will act as a missionary - learning about, living with, understanding, and preaching to the native inhabitants of Oasis. Peter's mission gets off to a surprisingly good start, but this relief is quickly countered by messages from home, where civilization is quickly disintegrating amid natural disasters and governmental collapse.

Full disclosure: I'm not a person of faith but I do find it fascinating and enjoy reading about it...when done in an interesting way. Unfortunately, this didn't do it for me. Also full disclosure: This is hardcore science fiction but rather speculative fiction. If sci-fi isn't your thing, don't discount this book because of that - it's been mislabeled and you might actually enjoy it.

I was a bit hesitant to pick this up, but after hearing all the hype decided to give it a go. I'm always down for some good sci-fi, I'm not so down for proselytizing. But I actually found very little of both in this book, which was surprising, given it's about a pastor who talks Jesus with some aliens. I wasn't bombarded with theology, nor was I blown away by a meticulously created fictitious world. I was left feeling pretty luke warm and removed.

At one point, it's said of Oasis that, "this place is one big anti-climax" and there's perhaps no better description of this novel. I don't think you could dream up a more boring planet. Faber raises tons of fascinating questions yet answers (or even attempts to answer) none. There is very little conflict and the conflict that IS included is either quickly dismissed or ignored. The complete meltdown of civilization on Earth is hinted at, though never fully felt by Peter nor, by proxy, the reader (or at least this reader). The characters are pretty flat, aliens and sinister USIC included, and Peter doesn't truly grapple with much so I don't feel confident in calling this introspective. It refuses to engage on so many levels that I'm wondering if that was the point, but if so I can't figure out to what purpose.

Overall, a story that should be full of pain and joy and discovery and loss and soul searching is just...lacking. I keep seeing words like "mesmirizing," and "meditative" used to describe this book and I just don't get it. Nothing happens and there's barely any serious intellectual engagement on religion, humanity, love (divine or otherwise), or how realistic Faber's apocalyptic Earth might be. Where's the challenge to Peter's faith in God or humanity? I didn't feel it. And I didn't feel his conviction either, just a bunch of wishy washy bible quoting and a few moments of light doubt that were quickly swept under the rug. The same goes for just about every other hardship he faced - they were all half baked, never fully realized. Maybe I'm missing the point. Maybe the dullness is the point - like super austere religions that require worship without adornment or pretense - but if that's the case, successful though it may be, it's just not what I was hoping for.

But that cover art tho...

Damn.

Not a fan.

A little drawn out and repetitive, could have used a heavier handed editor - 600 pages was far longer than it needed to be to tell part one of this story. I also didn't expect so much romance, but to be fair I can just about always do with less romance. It's about 80% romance, 10% magic, 10% history. I'm holding out hope that the second one will be more exciting now that magic will actually be part of it and hopefully we can stop with all the talk about how much Diana and Matthew love each other. More extensive review coming later.

Evie Wyld’s All the Birds, Singing tells the story of Jake Whyte, an Australian woman with a troubled past who finds herself tending a sheep farm on a secluded British island. As the narrative’s multiple plot lines unravel, we are told more of Jake’s history and her struggle to forget it. These multiple threads threw me for a loop at first, but until it quickly becomes clear that one is current day and moving forward while the other gives us Jake’s backstory in reverse chronological order. I’ve read some grumbling in the reviews for this approach, but I thought it was great. It was like peeling back layers one by one. It might make you think a little bit to keep track of where you are on both plot lines, but that’s not such a terrible thing.

All the Birds, Singing is oppressive, dark, and gooood. Not to mention it’s funny, too. In all I’ve read about this novel, no one seems to mention the humor. It’s not hilarious - you won’t be gasping for air - but there were moments when I chuckled to myself because the characters were saying or doing goofy things, or were just so realistically awkward with each other that it cut through the gloom. Lloyd’s character, the middle aged drunk who becomes Jake’s unlikely companion, was fantastic. He added some much needed levity to an otherwise heavy novel, and even in doing so we learned his own story was a sad one. And Dog. Anyone who owns and/or loves dogs will appreciate Dog. (I’m know I’m guilty of talking to my dog the way Jake does.)

I have to say that I’m surprised people are all up in arms about the ending. I thought it was one of the better endings I’ve read in a long while. I like the ambiguity. I like that it got kind of wild and psychological in the final chapters. It shifts the whole narrative and makes you rethink everything that’s come before. Sure, Wyld leaves it open ended, but do you really think those characters are going to find any closure? I don’t think that’s what it’s about; their stories aren’t going to be wrapped up all nice and neat. This was a story about the futility of running from something inescapable, denying something irrefutable, and seeking redemption in isolation. Closure’s not on the menu, but maybe the first step towards it is.

I wavered for a long time between giving this book 3 and 4 stars. Oyeyemi draws on just the right amount of fairy tale tropes, but the abrupt and out of the blue ending and the lack of perspective from Snow's life living with Clara tipped the scale towards 3. After I've had a few more days to chew on it and organize my thoughts I'll come back and write a fuller review.

What a fun little read! It has the same kind of vibe as Sideways Stories from Wayside School, which I absolutely loved as a kid. Clueless parents who are blind to all the action. Bull headed kids who are left to fend for themselves. Teachers who have a dark and spooky secret. It's a formula that works, especially when you have an author like Haddon whose writing is infused with a natural seeming wit and humor. Definitely recommend for young readers or anyone looking for a quick and enjoyable escape from your day.

The Secrets of Blood and Bone is a fun addition to the urban fantasy genre and an great follow up to the first in the series, The Secrets of Life and Death. In fact, I'd even say I liked it more than the first. Alexander has fine-tuned her style and the alternating historical/modern story lines kept a more even pace this time around. In the first installment, I found myself growing bored with Kelley and Dee. The tempos of the parallel stories were uneven and every time I got into the story, I was pulled back out. This time, though, Kelley's adventures in Venice were a more even match for Jack's standoff with the Dannicks - a prestigious family with a nefarious history. This sequel has just the right amount of intrigue and action. My only qualms with it are that the characters aren't super complex and the dialogue between Jack and Felix is pretty repetitive. Did you know that Felix is worried because Jack is acting 'different' and doesn't think Sadie should drink blood because we don't know the side effects yet? You will be reminded of these facts approximately every 25 pages.

But, as someone who grew up hooked on all things magic...I'm a total sucker for some witchcraft. I eat it up and this series is feeding right into it. I wanna go live in that cottage and be a garden witch and learn Latin and look after my wolf-dog and have a showdown with some dark magic maniacs. If a book leaves you feeling like you're either in the action or want to be in the action, then it's doing its job. Sigh...I guess I'll just have to wait for the next one in the series to come out (there's gonna be a next one, right?) so I can continue living vicariously through Jack, Sadie, and Maggie.

The Secrets of Life and Death tells two stories - one set in current day England where Jack Hammond struggles to save a young girl's life through unconventional means. The other is set in 16th century Poland, following the equally unconventional exploits of John Dee and Edward Kelley as they're called in to aid the notorious Countess Elizabeth Bathory (you know the one- she purportedly bathed in the blood of virgins...she's a pretty evil lady). As you might guess, Dee and Kelley's experiments with dark magic are intimately related to Jack and Sadie's struggle for life (or, rather, more borrowed time).

This seems like something I would automatically love, but I was left with lukewarm feelings. The characters never quite got there and the dual story lines just felt a bit disjointed. Every time I started getting into the action of one story line, I was yanked out and had to reacclimate. There are ways to pull this off, but it's tricky. The two stories felt a little out of step with each other.

I'd still recommend picking this up. It was a fun read and it's a story I've found myself thinking about over the past few days since I finished it. If nothing else, read it so you know what's going on when you read the second one (The Secrets of Blood and Bone), which was much better.

The steamy bits were steamy, I'll give it that. The rest of it left me with flashbacks of when I too was in an unhealthy relationship with an emotionally unavailable and inconsiderate boy. And let me tell you...it wasn't nearly as fun or sexy as this would make you think. But we're not really looking for stable and nourishing relationships out of these books, are we? No...we're looking for the steamy bits. And in that respect it did its job. But why were all of Miles' chapters done with a center-text alignment? That got old reaaaally fast.

"Why am I doing this to myself?" I thought. "Because there's no possible way it could be worse than Allegiant." And so went my thought process when deciding to read The Transfer. Turns out it was...fine. Not great, but (thankfully) not terrible either. I'm not a fangirl for Four so SORRY I DIDN'T LOVE IT. I like whenever Tris talks about his sculpted shoulders and so on, but I'm too old for his brooding angst. Overall I think he's a bit of a bore and usually end up rolling my eyes and thinking "UGH" whenever he says anything.

The Transfer was the first time I felt like Four was actually a human person with human feelings. The original trilogy would have been much stronger had Roth taken the time to build some of this character development, rather than writing it now like an after thought. Pretty smart move on her publisher's part though.