I have been acquainted with the smell of death.
Like a Creative Writing exercise someone gave up on after a few hundred pages. Or fanfiction, but where’s the line between those two anyway?
Anyway. House of Names is about the characters in Agamennon’s story. His wife Clytemnestra, his daughters Electra and Iphigenia and son Orestes. The sacrifice of one of them leads to mayhem and disaster, and everyone but Iphigenia get to give their point of view on the aftermath of it.
And they do so, and it feels like the build up to regular fiction build on mythological and/or historical figures. But then it’s done. Turns out it’s a slice of life, a collection of character sheets, instead of the creation of a story.
Maybe I should have known seeing that it only had little over 100 pages (in my e-reader). You can pass this one in your search for historical fiction with familiar names.
House of Names, Colm Tóibín, Penguin Random House 2017
13 x 40 min.
You want some small town western in your Buffy, with focus on more women than a Firefly? Here you go!
Wynonna Earp needs a bit of an investment, largely because of the grumpy and not instantly love-able title character (hmm, how different would that be if she would have been a guy?). But if you can give her a break (she’s got a proper motivation, after all), you are welcomed into a diverse world full of nasties and a heroine that honestly, completely, excusez-le-mot, doesn’t give a fuck.
This creates a messy thrill, speeding along in such a way that plot bumps or disbeliefs don’t have room for growing. Go for the demon-vigilante with bisexual sidekick ride, yiha!
Wynonna Earp, SyFy 2016 (first season on Netflix)
The girls were never present for the entrance interviews.
I always feel so fancy when I’m offered books, even though it’s through a subscription and it’s me and a gazillion others. Hey, it’s still a free (e)book!
Every Heart a Doorway had been mentioned in the online reader circles I visit, viewing it as the Messiah of LGBQT-friendly YA versus ‘there was an attempt’. So basically, the usual range of opinions online.
All the characters in this tiny novel (little over 100 pages) once visited a fairy-ish world and are now back in the world as we know it. To deal with this, and to temper their hopes on ever return again, they’re at a school. Some come from gruesome worlds involving death and/or vampires, some lived in technicolour happy worlds.
Like being lost in your supposed home world isn’t enough to deal with, murders start to happen.
I’m on the ‘moh’ side of opinions. This novel feels like a set up for something bigger and possibly better. And LGBQT-friendly? One of the characters seems to be trans*, while an other calls herself asexual. It’s mentioned in passing, not as a main, defining point. Which is good, but I wouldn’t use it as its unique selling point. What is? I don’t really think it has one.
Every Heart a Doorway, Seanan McGuire,
Carolyn, blood-drenched and barefoot, walked alone down the two-lane stretch of blacktop that the Americans called Highway 78.
This is one book that could do with the cleaning up of of TV-script writer. There’s so much violence, described in detail, that could be put away behind an (atmospheric) description or implication instead.
While the plot’s got plenty of things going for it. Mysterious not-alien, godlike but not gods creatures that look like humans, call themselves librarians but are able to do about anything? International mythic elements used to show these skills and knowledge, and something going on underneath the surface to spur things into action? Yes, yes, and yes.
But then there’s a conclusion that can elicit little more than a ‘mwoh’, possibly also because you’ve been beaten into a pulp by all the abuse, rape, murder and torture. So maybe Scott Hawkins can realise his notes about the world he build, and give someone else a chance with it. That way we get more of the story behind the librarians, and less of the blood and pain that made them the way they are.
The Library at Mount Char, Scott Hawkins, Crown Publishers 2015
At a quarter to nine, just before going off work, Dillon went down to reception to check the staff roster for tomorrow.
If I manage to pass the first year, I’m going to add a Read-for-school category. No doubt, this one was the coolest one yet.
Lies of Silence reads like a (nineties) Tom Cruise movie. There’s an unlikely hero whom has to choose between his wife and hundreds of innocent lives. There’s an obvious, but mostly incompetent bad guy. And there’s a younger mistress (okay, maybe not completely Tom Cruise movie).
Except this time it’s nineties’ Belfast. No ‘good thing it’s only fiction here’, IRA really used citizens to blow up more – in their eyes wrong – citizens. Michael’s used because of his function and his car, and quickly owning up to his wife about his mistress isn’t the biggest problem in his life any more.
Brian Moore keeps up the tempo, and the book just being 250 pages allow me to use the comparison with a nineties Tom Cruise movie again. Things move fast; the book just leaves you with the reminder that this is recent history.
Lies of Silence, Brian Moore, Vintage 1999
Well, never a dull moment. Not that I expected anything else, the trailer was already filled with peeing in public, sexual innuendos (and just plain comments), yelling, laughing and loud messes. You saw it with The Hangover and the dozens of similar movies, now it’s the turn of the girls.
As in every buddy-on-the-road movie there’s familiar types for everyone to recognise themselves in. The loud one, the disillusioned one, the boring one, the one (seemingly) complete in control. They haven’t seen each other in years because of some disgruntlement(s), served up whenever the speed needs to be picked up again.
Sometimes it’s a bit too loud and too crass, but the majority of the time it’s the silly fun that’s almost always welcome. Also; try to catch it in the cinema (or a large(r) group), the crowd definitely completes the experience.
Girls Trip, Universal Pictures 2017
Mae Mobley was born on a early Sunday morning in August, 1960.
There was a book before the film. And yes, this is another one for college. Also another one I prefer over The Catcher in the Rye.
It’s the segregation years of the sixties in the USA. White women are housewives, black women are housemaids. They are expected to do everything, but are rewarded by little to no appreciation and always have being fired hanging over them. The majority of them are little more than paid slaves, which is something that Skeeter also discovers when she comes up with the idea to write the stories of housemaids. It doesn’t land well with a lot of people.
In the book there’s not just Aibileen’s point of view, but also Minny’s, and Skeeter’s. With the first two the reader gets two different minds and views on the same subjects, while Skeeter is the alien out.
The Help is such an easy read that when the uglier subjects pop up and disasters happen, it almost shocks you out of the pale pastels and superficial happiness everyone seems to abide by.
I expect I have to read it for the vocabulary used, I read it to discover if it was less coddling than the film. It was.
The Help, Kathryn Stockett, Penguin Group 2009