Project Bookworm

Wow, the movies changed so much from the novel! They portray the monster as a big, lumbering idiot compared to the monster in the novel. The monster can talk very well. He's capable of learning how to survive on his own and he learns very fast. He has feelings and knows how to identify them and express them. I much prefer the book's version of the monster over Hollywood's. 
Also, they portray Victor Frankenstein as a mad scientist, when he is simply a scholar who let his curiosity get the better of him; creating something he couldn't face and negligently unleashing it upon the world. He's not crazy, just irresponsible and negligent - similar to a father abandoning his young, he turns his back on something that depends on him because he doesn't want it. 

How did the monster get back to Geneva and locate Victor's little brother? Was it just a coincidence that the monster was in the area and happened to kill William? Or is it, as the back of the book suggests, part of a revenge scheme against the creator who rejected it? If so, this story is not only a cautionary tale of scientific advancement, it can mirror the violent actions of rejected, unloved children today.

Part of me really wants to not bother to finish this book. I'm forcing myself to because I promised myself when the film came out that I would read the book first. Also, I spent money on it, so I have no reason not to finish it - such as a time restraint from the library. I just can't bring myself to care about Julie, her friends, or her cooking - none of it interests me. I'm not a cook at all, and she and her friends are mostly annoying. Yet I only have 67 more pages to go. I can do this. 

I was in Books A Million tonight and saw "Fifty Shades of Grey" shelved right next to classic literature like "The Great Gatsby" in a display. I almost threw up in my mouth a little. Since when is poorly written "erotic fiction" considered on the same caliber as F. Scott Fitzgerald? 

I'm debating whether this is 3.5 or 4 solid stars. Review to Come.

I'm wavering between 3.5 and 4 stars on this one. It was a great, fast-paced read, but I'm not quite sure what my official rating is yet.

Review to come. I am now up to three reviews I need to write. They'll get here ... someday!

It is 1985. Behavior analysis and profiling are a fairly new addition to the FBI. Computers are still very expensive and not owned by many small town sheriff’s offices. DNA has barely been discovered, but there is little technology to test it yet. Forensic technology is in the stone age, yet Oak Knoll has a serial killer on the prowl, and they must find out who it is the old fashioned way.

It’s a sunny afternoon when four fifth grade students running through the park woods stumble upon the body of a murder victim. She is the latest in a string of three bodies and a missing person. Detective Tony Mendez has a hunch that this is the work of a serial killer, and calls an old friend, Vince Leone, FBI profiler extraordinaire, to consult. It is as he fears, and he can only hope that he and Vince can find the killer before he or she strikes again.

I really liked the creepiness of the killer. I thought the signature of depriving the victims of sight, speech and hearing was original and scary. I really liked the way a child’s letter of hero worship about his father is interspersed with segments of the killer going through the routine with his latest victim. It is a great way to show that the killer could be anyone, even a devoted family man, and that’s always the scariest thing of all.

I love the character of Anne Navarre. She is fun, witty, and fiercely protective of her students. When she feels one of her students is being abused at home, she steps in. She is there for all of the students who found the body and refuses to allow anyone to push them around or scare them in any way. She’s not afraid to stand up to anyone, especially a misogynistic bully like Frank Farman, and I love that about her. It is also what attracts Vince toward her. There is a bit of insta-love between the two, as well as a good fifteen to twenty year age difference, but they at least love each other for the right reasons. I read the third book before this one, so I knew where their romance would lead, and I enjoyed watching the slow beginnings.

I felt bad for the kids who found the body. Tommy Crane is a sweet, smart little boy who is often picked on and rarely stands up for himself. He and his friend Wendy were being tormented by Dennis Farman, the class bully, and his little sidekick, Cody. None of these kids have the happiest of home situations, especially Dennis and Tommy. I even felt bad for Dennis when his downward spiral commenced, due to everything he went through at home. Honestly, it was bound to happen, considering what that kid witnessed and dealt with on a daily basis.

I swear, there must be something in the water in Oak Knoll that produces awful parents. Other than Sara, Wendy’s mother, everyone has at least one crappy parental figure. Tommy’s mother is a raging narcissist control freak, who cares more that he missed his piano lesson than that he just stumbled upon a dead body in the park. She drugs him to make him sleep, screams at anyone who crosses her, and goes into spastic rages for little to no reason. Dennis’s father, Frank, is an abusive misogynistic jerk who happens to work for the Sherriff’s department. He thinks all women are whores that are meant to serve men, and that’s exactly how he treats his wife. He beats her and berates her in front of Dennis, who, in turn, begins to believe that all women are stupid useless cows, only good for cooking food and having sex. Even Anne’s father is a complete prick, picking her apart constantly.

While I find the character of Franny amusing, I do feel he screams “GAY CLICHÉ!” He’s well-dressed, loves kids, is effeminate, loves fashion, etc. Every time I read a line of his dialogue, the cliché “gay lisp” would run through my head. I feel he’s a little too out there and obnoxiously flamboyant, hitting every gay cliché character trait out there. I think he would have been a better character if he was more subtle, not constantly reminding the reader that he is gay. We know, but there should be more to a character than clichés surrounding their sexuality.

I did like the overall story. I found the characters likable and the crime interesting. Hoag knows how to create suspense, ending each chapter just so, making me want to keep reading. If I hadn’t read Down the Darkest Road before this, I think I would have been fairly surprised when the killer’s identity was revealed. Hoag peppered in enough red herrings to make it harder to zero in on the actual villain.

Overall, it was a fun, suspenseful read. Aside from the cliché gay character and everyone’s parents being despicable, the mystery is solid and the villain is creepy.

Actual Rating: 2.5 Stars

In this book, Brumberg examines the one hundred years of history between 1895 and 1995, and how society’s attitude has changed toward young women. She asks the question, even though we are now free of corsets and have more rights, do we really have it any better than our Victorian ancestors? To answer this, she cites passages from diaries of teenage girls dating back to the 1800s, research, and anecdotes from her own experiences as a teen and a professor.

One of her first claims is that girls didn’t focus on their body image until the 1920s. Before that, during the Victorian era, they focused mostly on being a good person and less upon their looks. “They almost always focused on the internal character and how it was reflected in outward behavior.” (p. xxi) Brumberg cites this as one of the major differences between girls of that era and girls of today – who believe the shape of their bodies and their appearance is what primarily reflects their individuality. Brumberg believes that this is due to changes in attitudes toward the developing female body, both medically and socially, it being especially influenced by media, advertising and fashion.

In some instances I’m sure this is very true, and the evidence she gives supporting her claims as to the medical attitudes seems to hold up well. However, she also blames the commercialization of sanitary napkins and tampons of ushering young girls into consumer culture too quickly. She says this is because when girls begin to menstruate, their mothers introduce them to a specific brand, and henceforth, they continue to buy that brand. I don’t see the logic in that. When I first went through menarche I grabbed what was handy. I may have since developed a brand loyalty, because certain products work better for me, but none were ever pushed on me as a developing teen.

Another issue Brumberg has that I don’t understand is the commercial treatment of acne. Maybe this is because I still live in an era where acne is considered gross and unattractive, but if it can be treated, I don’t see the problem with doing so. I had terrible acne as a teen, and I still battle it in my mid-twenties. It’s not fun, and I use both a commercial face-wash (that happens to work very well, thank you) and a prescribed cream from my doctor. I get that she feels the ads are are hurting their self-esteem by telling young teens that acne makes them less desirable. Having acne in general hurts the self-esteem, especially when you get picked on for it by your school mates. As Brumberg proved in her history of acne, it has always been an undesirable thing, linked to syphilis and being dirty, and a negative attitude about it still exists today. Maybe she could suggest a way to change attitudes toward acne?

As other reviewers have stated, it is problematic that Brumberg only really focused on the white, middle class population of young women during her research. There is one small mention of a black girl, and very little exploration into the differences in attitude between African American culture and White culture on the topic of young female bodies. There is no mention of Hispanic or Asian views on the topic either, just straight white middle class culture.

I also didn’t like how she worded her beginning to her chapter on sexuality. She makes it seem like homosexuality/lesbianism is a choice – which wasn’t apparent in the rest of the chapter, but still irked me. I don’t think she meant it to come off as it did, but I’ve never met a gay person who “chose” to be that way, and I found it an offensive implication. She also linked homosexuality with the practice of S&M – which is something that many heterosexual couples also practice.

Lastly, she blames the over-sexualization of little girls for a rise in pedophilia. I don’t necessarily buy that. I’m sure it doesn’t help the issue, don’t get me wrong, I’m not for the sexualizing of young girls. I just feel like pedophilia didn’t seem to exist to Brumberg until relatively recently, when it has been around for ages, just not as fully looked into as it is today. Child abuse wasn’t even really considered a serious crime until the 1960s, and before that, sex of any kind was considered shameful to talk about. Children could have been abused physically, sexually, or emotionally and felt it wasn’t something they could talk about – and if they did, no one else would think it was wrong. They may not have even had the words to describe it, as Victorian girls didn’t have the vocabulary to discuss their own bodies. Also, if sexualization of little girls is solely to blame for pedophilia, what about the ones that prefer little boys? I don’t mean to be disturbing or dwell on a nasty topic, but the fact is that some like little girls and some like little boys, and I don’t feel that young boys are as sexualized as girls are.

I did like the historical aspects of the book, however. I find history in general very interesting, but women’s history is even more so. I learned from this book that having excessive acne in the Victorian era made people think you had a lot of sex or masturbated frequently. I also learned that gynecology was developed in the late 1800s, but its first major use was checking to see if a girl was still a virgin. Also, doctors felt that rectal exams were less invasive than vaginal ones. Another interesting thing I learned was that when tampons were invented, the general public believed them to be little more than dildos that women would use to masturbate. There is much more, but these four things are what I remember most.

I also like Brumberg’s thought of bringing back the Victorian idea of girl’s groups, where young ladies could meet each other and be mentored by older girls/women. I think I benefitted greatly by having strong female role models in my life, and now, especially when we live in such a fast-paced society, girls probably need the guidance more than ever. We live in a time where some parents have to work really long hours and don’t always have as much time to spend with their children – many kids end up being raised by a television set, and the media definitely does have a poisonous effect on body image. Being able to talk about these concerns with someone older who has dealt with the same issues would greatly help young girls develop healthier attitudes toward their bodies.

Overall, while the book is worth the read, it is a bit outdated, and some of Brumberg’s opinions didn’t make a lot of sense to me. The best aspects of the book to me were the parts that dealt solely with the historic beliefs, facts and laws. I also liked the diary excerpts, even if the sampling was only from one small portion of our society. Brumberg does have some good ideas, but some of her beliefs are a little far-fetched for me, making them hard to follow and/or agree with. I think the book could have been researched and edited a little more, based on more evidence and less conjecture from the author, but it is still an informative read.

Actual Rating: 4.5 Stars

Seventeen-year-old Evie O’Neill has been sent away to Manhattan to spend a few months with her uncle Will. Her parents consider this a punishment for her antics in town, but Evie couldn’t be more excited. She sees this as an opportunity to let loose and find herself, hoping she’ll find more people like her. She’s a free spirit, a flapper, and she has no intentions of being responsible. Yet, she soon discovers there is a killer on the loose in her city, one that has the police baffled. Aiding her uncle in his investigation of the paranormal symbols left behind by the killer, Evie realizes that she has the power to catch this villain through supernatural means – a power that could put her in more danger than the killer alone.

I really enjoyed this novel. I loved the setting – the 1920s is one of my favorite decades to read about, and Bray really brought it to life in this story. There are speakeasies, flappers and chorus girls. Prohibition is in full swing, racism is rampant, and homosexuals have to keep their sexuality a secret – only revealing themselves in underground clubs. She also gives us a glance at the butchery young, desperate women went through back then when they had abortions. (That is actually probably one of the scariest images in the novel.) She also discusses churches that supported the KKK and a movement to purify the genetics within the United States, both of which, scarily enough, actually existed.

I thought the characters were great as well. I did have a hard time dealing with Evie on occasion. Many of her decisions are selfish and can lead to trouble for others around her. (Ex: when Mabel gets arrested during a raid at a club, which could have been avoided if Evie had agreed to leave when Mabel wanted to.) As much as she claims to adore Mabel, she never really bothers to understand her, only try and change her to make her fit in. I know she means well, but it does get irritating. I also hated how much she drinks alcohol and how frequently she wants it or emphasizes how great it is. However, I loved Evie’s strength and sass. I found her very witty and enjoyed her sarcastic exchanges with Sam, Jericho and Will.

Mabel is the character I most related to, despite the fact that she never really had much of the story focused on her. She’s an introvert, a reader, shy but kind, and holds strong in her beliefs for the rights of others. She was raised to fight for workers’ rights and takes part in that movement – headed by her parents. I understood her irritation with Evie – who, in her own way, meant well in her attempts to bring Mabel out of her shell – because I know how it feels to have someone you care about try to change you.

Memphis is also a strong character. A boy who once had the power to heal, he spends his time running illegal gambling numbers, writing poetry, reading, and looking after his younger brother, Isaiah. His back story is tragic, and all he seems to have left is his little brother who he’d do anything for. It is through Memphis that Bray also explores the way interracial relationships were received back in the 1920s. His best friend warns him against the relationship – citing it as dangerous when the woman gets sick of him. She could lose her job if her boss discovered she was dating an African American. I hope this continues to be explored in future entries of the series.

Theta and Henry are also interesting characters. I liked that Theta was similarly sassy to Evie and knew how to work a crowd. She’s a free spirit, a dancer, an entertainer, but she is also running from a dark past. Henry is sweet and kind, a man that took her in when she was starving on the streets. He has a great sense of humor, and he’s also gay – which was a dangerous thing in that era. As with the interracial component, I hope this theme is also explored more in the books to come.

Lastly, we have Sam and Jericho – one a petty theif, the other a ward of the state, taken in by Evie’s uncle. Sam comes off as charming but snaky when Evie first encounters him at the train station – he picks her pocket and thus begins a battle of wits between the two. Eventually he comes to work for Evie’s uncle, becoming a perpetual pain to Evie, but also a great source of aid in the case. I am also very interested in his past and his quest to crack open “Operation Buffalo.” I want to know what happened to his mother just as badly as he does. Jericho is interesting just because of his history. He is the strong silent type, only speaking when he feels it is important, but still offering much insight on the case at hand.

I also found the villain to be intriguing. I liked that, similar to Freddy Krueger, he had a creepy rhyme that followed his legend. I also found the mythology surrounding him creepy but believable. A supernatural killer, sacrifices, and the apocalypse? That kind of story is right up my alley! The fact that he had a crazed cult following only aided in the creep-factor for me. I’m wondering if the Brethren will reappear in later entries. They are an interesting group – I would like to see more of them.

The novel was both very suspenseful and a fast read. When I had the time to read, I’d run through four or five chapters at a time. Despite the fact that I didn’t always agree with Evie’s decisions, I did worry for her when she began investigating on her own. I did worry about who might be next, and there were many twists and turns I didn’t see coming.

There was only one other thing, aside from some of Evie’s characteristics, that I didn’t like about the novel. I didn’t like that Bray was descriptive about animal sacrifices, especially when she avoided describing the death scenes of the murder victims at all. If one could be avoided, why not the other? If one is graphic, why must we cover up the other? It didn’t make sense to me. I don’t like animal deaths in general, but I can understand them being described if the human deaths are also done that way. If not, I don’t see why we have to read such details. It just doesn’t seem necessary to me.

Overall, this was a fun, suspenseful read with realistic, interesting characters who may not always be likable, but do develop as the story progresses. The villain and his followers are creepy and the story is very engaging. Recommended.

Children’s book author and illustrator, Carol Warren, never expected something like this could happen to her. She’d lived a normal life filled with good friends and family as well as success as an author. Everything changes when her best friend is found brutally murdered and Carol becomes involved in the investigation. At first she just wants answers about who killed her friend, but once she realizes someone she loves is a suspect, she will do whatever it takes to prove his innocence, even if it risks her own life.

The first thing I liked about this book is the heroine, Carol. Most books in this vein are focused on getting the heroine to fall for some hunky man working with her on the case and spawning an erotic romance as a side story, but that isn’t the case here. In fact, while Carol may date a few men in the novel, she’s not in the market for romance, and, actually, finds it very hard to get in the mood for it due to the dreadful crimes committed in the case. That is something that makes a lot more sense to me. Carol is also successful and independent, only relying on herself, and she has a great deal of self-respect and loyalty to her friends and family. However, this loyalty could also blind her to what is going on around her.

I also liked the fact that she had her own worries outside of the mystery, such as her father’s failing health and the fact that she’ll probably have to put him in a nursing home. She and her brother discuss it and wonder if it’s the right thing to do – and it’s very hard for Carol to imagine being ripped from her home in her final years. She has a very kind heart, loving deeply and honestly those who are close to her, and I felt for her in making that decision.

I thought the story was very suspenseful, and I whipped right through the novel because I needed to know what happened next. Is the killer who the police believe it to be, or is it an elaborate frame job? Was Carol really in danger of becoming the killer’s next target?

I also liked the scenes from the killer’s point of view and how he was styled. He is definitely creepy, especially in the point-of-view scene where he has his victim tied up in the woods and prepares to torture her. He reminds me a lot of Ted Bundy – how he uses the ruse of being somehow handicapped in order to gain the sympathy and trust of a would-be victim, and then gets the better of them. Also, his final act of murder as he begins to lose control toward the end of the novel is an obvious nod to the murders of nursing students committed by Richard Speck in the 1960s. The Green River Killer is mentioned in comparison to the killer in this novel, but I feel that there aren’t many similarities, aside from where the bodies are found.

I liked how the book dealt with the idea that a family member or friend that you’ve known your entire life could turn out to be a serial killer. Carol has to deal with the fact that the police believe her brother is the Deep Woods Killer, and another character reveals that they have a family member guilty of such atrocities. Even having someone in your family suspected of such crimes can do a number on the rest of the family, and of course, the suspect themselves – as despite the saying, “innocent until proven guilty,” in the public eye, it’s often guilty until proven innocent.

I’m not sure how I feel about the character of Paul Miller. He goes to elaborate lengths to disguise his true self and true intentions from Carol, despite asking her to trust and help him in his investigation. I can’t describe such over-the-top instances of this without giving away spoilers, but I can say that it is hard to accept that someone would go that far to keep up a façade. These actions felt like they belonged in some espionage thriller, not a murder mystery. Also, it was because of his constant lies that I couldn’t bring myself to like him by the end of the novel. I found myself falling for his lies along with Carol, so I felt equally betrayed when I would find out he was just spinning another web of deception.

The other thing I didn’t really like was the ending – I found it rather anti-climactic. I wanted a dramatic show-down between Carol and the killer, and instead it is over in an instant. I felt a bit let down after all of that built-up tension and hours of reading.

Overall, it’s definitely a great read and I recommend it for mystery buffs. It’s very suspenseful and keeps you guessing until the final few chapters, and even then, I was hoping there would be some twist and it would turn out to be someone else. Still, it was a well-written mystery that kept my attention, and I would probably read it again.

Actual Rating: 2.5 Stars

It’s been months since Ethan took the plunge to correct the Order of Things and save his friends and loved ones from an impending apocalypse. He wakes up in the “Otherworld” where he has breakfast with his mother and can visit with Aunt Prue whenever he likes. However, he can’t shake the feeling that he is not supposed to be in the “Otherworld,” and he misses Lena terribly. He will do anything to find his way home again, and Lena will do anything to make that happen. They reach across the barriers in an attempt to bring him back to the world of the living.

This final entry in the Caster Chronicles series is mostly based around Ethan’s adventures in the “Otherworld,” and despite how interesting that sounds, the book falls into competition with Book Two as being the weakest in the series. I just couldn’t get behind his quest. Maybe it’s because I’ve been away from the series for too long, but I don’t find Ethan’s romance with Lena as engaging as I once did. I felt he disregarded his mother’s feelings when he decided he needed to go back to Lena – and it was all about Lena – not his father who has been living under a spell so he doesn’t realize Ethan has died, not even Amma who has raised him and saved him from trouble countless times. He does eventually admit that he is torn about leaving his mother and that he does want to be with his father and Amma again, but for the most part Lena is all he sees and all he thinks about.

Lena, back in the mortal world, isn’t much better. As Ethan communicates to her through the barrier between worlds, she becomes consumed in aiding his quest to come home. She is willing to trade John to Abraham in order to get her hands on an object Ethan needs. She also freaks out on Macon for “spying on her” and on John for leaving Liv a note about what he was about to do (give himself to Abraham in trade), when it ended up saving her butt in the end. Abraham would have killed her had Macon not shown up when he had, yet she pouts and whines when she should be thankful. Really, Lena, if you want your uncle to take you seriously, you need to stop acting like such a child and use some common sense!

Truthfully, I was more entertained by the romances between Link and Ridley and Liv and John. Liv and John are just adorable together, and probably the most normal couple out of the three in their group. Even though he is half caster/half incubus, he genuinely cares about her and would do anything to make her happy. Then there’s the volatile love/hate relationship that is Ridley and Link – who communicate in a series of half-hearted insults and can’t seem to get over each other. It also helped their relationship that Link proved himself to be quite the hero during the showdown with Abraham – taking him on mortal style and winning.

Two interesting characters were introduced in this entry – Obidias and Xavier. Both men had angered the Far Keep and had been severely punished – Obidias given snakes for a hand that routinely bite into his flesh, and Xavier turned into a monster and forced to guard the gates of the Great Keep. Both men greatly aid Ethan on his journey – Obidias telling him what he has to do to get home and Xavier aiding him in the final battle. I really liked Xavier and I was glad that I got to see a flashback into his life and how he became the way he did. I wish I could have learned more about Obidias – but he is only in the novel for one chapter.

The one character that was just plain irritating to me was Angelus – one of the Keepers. He is evil, yes, but he’s also whiney and prideful – hateful of the very race he sprung from. He is, after all, a mortal, yet he refuses to believe that is so when he has modified himself so much he no longer resembles one. Despite his evil experimentations and his enslavement of dark casters for his own amusement, he still comes off more pathetic than villainous in his final confrontation with Ethan. I, for one, couldn’t wait for his character to be killed off, because he was more annoying than anything. Abraham Ravenwood was a legitimate villain; this guy was a prideful weakling riding on Abraham’s coattails.

I didn’t feel any real suspense. I knew that Ethan was most likely going to return to Lena, but I also didn’t really care that much if he did. I wanted to spend more time with his mother and get to know her character, as she has played a very pivotal role in the series despite being dead. It was also nice to finally meet the Greats that Amma always communicates with, but they also only get a chapter where they help Ethan and send him on his way – I still never really got to know any of them and I would have liked to. They have also served a large role in the series, and I felt they could have been given a little more face time.

The story in this one didn’t pull me in like the rest did. There was a cool new world to explore, but it wasn’t really plotted out very well – unlike the numerous tunnels in Books Two and Three. It is all about Ethan and Lena, and getting them back together again. Beyond that, nothing seems to matter, and that made it rather mundane to me. So much more could have been explored in dealing with the afterlife, yet so little was done, and I found myself rather bored and wishing the plot would just move along already. Characters with promise are underused, Ethan and Lena are both rather whiney and ungrateful, and the main villain is just irritating. I was hoping for a better finale.

Forty-two students are taken to an island where, as part of a special government program, they are pitted against each other in a battle to the death. There is no way to escape, no point in fighting back, the only way to win is to be the last student left standing at the end of the three day gaming period. But maybe this class will be different – there are a few clever students, driven by rage, revenge and the drive to survive, that just might shake this game up a little.

At a length of 576 pages, this novel flew by rather quickly for me. The one thing that caught my attention and created suspense for me was the characterization in this story Takami has a knack for writing strong, lovable characters, and I had to keep reading to find out what happened to each of them. Of course, in a story like this, the reader has to be careful which characters they fall for because no one is truly safe. I would meet a character in one chapter, begin to care about him or her, and by the end of the chapter, watch them die in some brutal fashion. Among my favorites were Shuya Nanahara (protagonist, guitar player, rock music lover, and loyal friend), Yoshitoki Kuninobu (Shuya’s best friend), Hiroki Sugimura (loving, loyal, romantic, good friend of Shuya’s)¸Shinji Mimura (basketball star, talented hacker, smart, good friend of Shuya’s), and Shogo Kawada (quiet, badass, loyal and clever). Very few of the girls impressed me much, although I thought Mitsuko Souma was as intriguing as she was evil, Takako Chigusa was awesome for fighting until the very end, and Yukie Utsumi was a sweetheart. I thought Noriko Nakagawa was a nice girl, but her character really didn’t wow me – and since she is one of the leads, I felt she should have been a bit more interesting.

There were times when the book was hard to read because I knew most of my favorite characters weren’t going to make it out alive, if any did at all. I had hopes that a good sized group would make it out alive, but knew that was very unlikely to happen. All I could do was read through the chapters and hope for the best. None of these kids deserved to be thrown into such a perverse game, and I wanted as many to survive as possible.

The game is a government program conducted by the fascist dictatorship of the Republic of Greater East Asia. What was once Japan has been replaced with this new “republic” and a government who will kill anyone who dares speak out against it. The students’ teacher fought the decision for their class to be selected and he was killed, any parent who objected faced the same fate. It is up to the kids themselves to figure out a way to survive, and many have a few tricks up their sleeves. Shinji and Shogo both had excellent ideas, if only their two groups could have united, the game wouldn’t have stood a chance.

The book packs a lot of social commentary on the impact of fear. It discusses how the game is used to scare the public and keep the citizens docile, and also the effect fear has on those trying to survive in a life or death situation. It shows the paranoia that envelops all of those involved and the fear of trusting anyone – for letting your guard down to the wrong person could cost you your life. It also shows the repercussions of such fear, such as an attempted poisoning of one character leading to the death of another, and a violent chain-reaction of death following suit.

While the characterization is excellent, the writing itself isn’t always good. This could be due to things being lost in translation, as this was originally a Japanese text. The twist revelation about Shogo was predictable, there were a few dangling modifiers and grammatical errors, and Kazuo is harder to kill than Jason Voorhees. At first I found this believable because the kid has a vast amount of martial arts training, but after a while, it got ridiculous. He was too smart, too quick, and too irritating. After a while, it seemed like the guy was everywhere, preying upon my beloved characters. I was begging someone to kill him already.

The ending is very satisfying, despite not all of my favorite characters surviving. Many died heroes or having completed what they set out to do before time ran out. I only wish there were a certain answer for the survivors – will they ever be at peace, or will they always be running from their government?

Overall, a great suspenseful novel with very likable characters – ones you can’t help but love even though you know you’re probably going to lose them. It’s definitely a brutal but interesting and worthwhile read.

In this novel, author Bruce Campbell uses himself as his main character, navigating the reader through a fictitious film shoot. Bruce has just landed a minor role in the film, Let’s Make Love! starring Hollywood A-listers Richard Gere and Renee Zellweger, and, pretty much from the start, everything is a disaster. All of his research leads him into sticky and often ridiculous situations – everything from wrestling a thief for a pickled penis (yes, you did read that correctly) and chasing down environmental terrorists in an exaggeratedly oversized Dodge pickup, to landing himself on the National Security Watch List. Also, he seems to be bringing a little too much B-movie technique to an A-list film. Is he leaking the “B-Movie Virus” or is someone on the inside out to sabotage his career?

I’m not really even sure how to describe this novel. It is definitely comedic, oozing a sense of humor distinctly recognizable as Bruce’s by any loyal fan (myself included). I loved that I could hear his voice running through my brain, telling the increasingly outrageous scenarios. At the same time, those scenarios are what kept me from truly getting into the book. Maybe it’s because I’m not used to reading books of a satirical nature, but the more ludicrous the character’s actions became, the less I enjoyed the story.

I felt that all of his travels for “research” were kind of tossed together, and each chapter was a different research session in a different part of the country. I found myself often asking, “When the hell did he get to Washington DC? Wait, he’s in California now, what? Nope, back in New York.” As laughable as these research sessions became, the jarring jumps between them confused me. The chapters didn’t really begin to flow together until the final eight appear and a real story gets rolling.

Bruce, the main character, gets rather annoying. He has the tendency to pull innocent people into the line of fire. He often has others go down for his mistakes, or drags them along on his crazy adventures, only for them to get into serious trouble for aiding him in some way. By the end I was like, “Dammit, Bruce, quit getting people into trouble!” Also, he’s arrogant, and even though it’s in a self-deprecating way, it does get a little irritating in places. I do love this side to him normally – both in his acting and on his twitter account, but in the book, it did tend to get on my nerves.

I’m not saying this is a bad book. It’s very funny – Bruce has a unique sense of humor that has been an obvious part of him since his early acting days. It also moves rapidly once you begin reading it, but it lacks substance to me. I could put it down for days and not feel the urge to pick it back up again because, personally, the story didn’t do anything for me. It was good for a one-time read, but nothing I’d visit again.

Overall – this is a humorous little jaunt through the making of a fictitious movie. It’s good mindless fun, best if read with Bruce’s voice narrating in your head, but overall, nothing spectacular. Still, I love Bruce, and I will seek out his memoir, If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B-Movie Actor in the future.

A new store has opened up in Castle Rock, Maine, a store that claims to carry your very heart’s desire. You can find what you want the most in the world at Needful Things, but be careful! Every treasure comes with a price, a heavy one that can be potentially deadly. Leland Gaunt, the shopkeeper, may seem like a nice man, but there is something evil lurking under the surface, an evil that you don’t want to tango with.

I don’t know what my deal is with starting a series with the last book, but I seem to be doing it a lot lately. Granted, the Castle Rock Stories aren’t officially a series, but they do all involve the same town and characters. The poor citizens of Castle Rock cannot seem to catch a break, and now Leland Gaunt has arrived in town, promising them treasures for a steep price, one many unknowingly are willing to pay.

I really liked the variety of characters in this novel. The hero, Sheriff Alan Pangborn, is still having trouble dealing with the deaths of his wife and youngest son. While he has moved on and become involved in a loving relationship with Polly Chalmers, our heroine, he still longs to find out what happened on the day of their accident, and often blames himself for their deaths. Polly has moved back to town in recent years, and she’s harboring a secret that she can’t even bring herself to tell Alan. She suffers from severe arthritis in her hands and runs a sewing shop. These two are a part of a small group that eventually realizes something isn’t right with the new store and the creepy shop owner.

Leland Gaunt himself is an interesting character. At first he appears to be a kindly old man, ready and willing to do business with anyone, but as time passes on, he begins to show his true colors. His evil nature peeks through the surface when he can’t seem to get what he wants through charm. He wields dark magic and knows the right buttons to push to turn a quiet, peaceful town into a warzone, which he does gleefully. He enjoys watching people destroy themselves and each other.

There are minor characters that are equally engaging. I really liked Brian Rusk – he was an innocent kid who just wanted a certain baseball card, and ended up starting a domino effect of destruction. Nettie Cobb was someone I just wanted to hug, and I really felt like she was fighting the spell of the object she bought from Needful Things, and I really hoped she could win. Deputy Norris Ridgewick is another good man suckered, but able to fight the lie. He’s lanky, goofy, and often compared to Barney Fife, but there’s a good heart inside him, and I enjoyed his character very much.

Then there are minor characters I hated, such as Hugh Priest, Cora Rusk, Ace Merrill, Danforth Keeton, and Frank Jewett. These characters are entirely selfish and willing to commit the most evil acts against their fellow man, and for what? A lousy object they will lose if they don’t do these horrible things. They can easily disregard their fellow man in order to protect their property or their own hides, which they, themselves, put in jeopardy. (Ex: a politician who extorts money and a principal who likes kiddie porn – that’s no one else’s fault but your’s, guys!)

That is really what this novel is all about: the evil that is human greed. Leland Gaunt preys upon this innate part of human nature and drags it out in its most dangerous form. Those who buy from Leland Gaunt go on to commit “pranks” on their neighbors, “pranks” that often result in a deadly chain reaction. Some tricks seem harmless, such as slinging mud on a neighbor’s sheets, while others are as vicious as killing a woman’s dog. These pranks lead to the victims blaming someone, and before long the town is in chaos with grudge matches being fought to the death on street corners. King’s story exposes the horrible nature of human greed, and how far it can consume us – as well as the dangers of anger and the lust for revenge. Once a person is encompassed by greed or anger, nothing else seems to matter to them, and it’s a dangerous road to travel down.

For a book of over 700 pages, I found this to be a relatively fast read – when I could actually find time to read, I would go through 70 to 100 pages at a time. I just had to find out what happened next to each of the characters – King would leave me hanging and I would have to find out more. My only issue with the book was at the climactic confrontation between Alan and Leland Gaunt – I wasn’t sure how Alan could actually perform Real Magic to battle Gaunt. That part is never really explained, so I was left feeling a little confused. I also wanted to know if Sean Rusk’s father ever made it to the hospital to see him. Other than that, the book is highly enjoyable and I recommend it.

Melinda Sordino used to have a pretty good life. She got good grades, had a tight-knit group of friends, and was often invited to fun events. All of that changed the summer between middle school and high school, and now she enters ninth grade with no friends, a bad case of depression and a secret she can’t tell anyone. Her friends think she’s a narc, her parents think she’s grasping for attention, but no one asks her why she’s become this way. Melinda finds herself slipping into silence, and only her art can help her find her voice.

Melinda is a great character – I loved her sarcastic, cynical wit when describing things around her. Her quips are intelligent and funny, even if they come from a depressed mind. She has lost interest in school, except in the one subject that she can use as her outlet – art. I could feel her helplessness – she wants to tell her secret but doesn’t feel like anyone will believe her. Her friends won’t give her the time of day and her parents are never around – and when they are, it only seems to be to yell at her or each other.

I honestly couldn’t stand Melinda’s parents. The only time her father seemed to talk to her was to bellow about her poor grades. Occasionally he does something nice like get doughnuts on Thanksgiving or invite her to the hardware store with him, but for the most part he ignores her. Her mother isn’t much better – working long hours as a retail store manager, she doesn’t seem to have time for Melinda’s “cries for attention.” That is literally what she calls it when she sees that Melinda has self-cut, and promptly ignores her again. Excuse me, you’re not a bit concerned about why your daughter is cutting? Do neither of you see this downward spiral as something out of character for Melinda, someone who only months before was a solid student with a decent social life? No friends, bad grades, sleeping all the time, cutting – these are signs she needs help, not to be yelled at by two half-wits who only seem to worry about how she’s making them look.

Her only friend for the first half of the book is Heather, a bubbly new girl full of school spirit and longing to belong somewhere. She tries to get Melinda involved, but mostly just uses her until she finds a better group of friends. Also, the girl has some anger management issues. However, I don’t think Melinda should have written off Ivy and Nicole so quickly. While neither of them hung around her specifically, they were never mean to her the way Rachel and other students were. I’m glad she and Ivy began to bond toward the end of the novel, and I think that Nicole would have talked to Melinda if Melinda had approached her. It is, of course, understandable why she was afraid to do so.

As far as the rest of the characters go, few stand out. David Petrakis is her nerdy lab partner who isn’t afraid to stand up to their bigoted history teacher, Mr. Neck (Melinda’s nickname for the teacher, real last name unknown.) Mr. Neck is one of those people who never should have ended up in charge of students. He’s a control freak douche bag who loves to push his weight around. Yet the school board allows him to get away with his antics (probably because he’s a coach for one of the sports teams) but harasses Mr. Freeman for using too much of the budget on art supplies. Mr. Freeman is the only teacher that seems to respect his students and encourage them to grow and find themselves. All the others – Mr. Neck and Hairwoman (English) especially – seem to try and squish the creativity right out of these kids, turning them into mindless drones like everyone else. It is Mr. Freeman who believes in Melinda and encourages her transformation as the book wears on. Her struggles with her art mirror her struggles with herself and the need to find her voice.

Melinda’s secret is revealed about halfway through the novel, but I had already seen the film, so I knew what it was. Anderson holds the suspense for a while, but I don’t think it’s hard to figure out with the hints dropped by Melinda. What happened to her is awful, and the fact that she had no one to confide in makes this novel heartbreaking in places.

My only real problem with the novel is the ending. We never find out if her parents learn what really happened to her that summer. I’m sure they did, but I would have liked to see how that happened and if they felt guilty at all for not realizing something was very wrong. We never find out if Andy is punished, and we never really find out if Melinda regains her friends and a happy social life. I would have liked to know how things ended up for her.

Overall, it was a quick, interesting read with a strong heroine and a compelling story. I just wish the ending had been expanded upon.

Admissions.. Admission. Aren't there two sides to the word? And two opposing sides...It's what we let in, but it's also what we let out."

The above quote sums up the plot of this story nicely. The story follows Portia Nathan as she struggles with the changes in her life and confronts her past. Portia is an admissions officer for Princeton University, and as part of her job, she travels throughout New England, visiting many schools to recruit applicants. Upon visiting Quest, an experimental alternative education high school, she comes face to face with John Halsey, a man from her college years. The two spend an evening together, and upon returning home, her world seems to fall apart. Portia is forced on a journey of Admission – admitting that her life may not be what she wants, admitting her past exists, and admitting the right people into her life.

Portia is a realistic heroine, but I often found it hard to understand her motivations. There are occasions where I can relate to her, such as her tendency to hold onto relationships when they are no longer working and a career she doesn’t really enjoy. These things are safety nets and we all have one thing we can’t release, even when it’s long past time to do so. However, I can’t understand why she refuses to let anyone in – not her mother, who may be a bit overbearing in her radical feminism; and not her friend Rachel, who is there for her, trying to get Portia to talk to her. Portia can only seem to open up to men – to John and to Mark – never the women in her life that care so much for her.

I don’t really understand why Portia and her mother have such a strained relationship. Susannah may be a bit eccentric, but her heart is in the right place, and she managed to raise her daughter single-handedly. She may have some radical ideas and stick to her opinions no matter the evidence against them, but she loves Portia and wants a relationship with her – something Portia doesn’t seem capable of giving to her. The two may not see eye to eye, but it’s obvious that Susannah would do anything to ensure Portia’s happiness. It aggravated me that Portia, at thirty-eight, was treating her mother with the disdain of a teenager.

Some of this treatment is slightly explained in Part III of the novel, when Portia admits the long-harbored secret from her past. She took care of her issue all on her own, never telling anyone because she didn’t want to accept this change in her life. Even though she knew her mother would help her, she didn’t want it. She gives no explanation for why, and I found it hard to understand her reasoning.

She makes a lot of decisions I do not understand – not involving her mother when her past issue arose, and the decision she made towards the end of the novel that put her career in jeopardy. Was it really worth it? I suppose, but I could never do what she did.

She also tends to go catatonic whenever a man leaves her. It’s like she’s in shock and doesn’t know how to handle this abandonment. It happens both with her college boyfriend, Tom, as well as her live-in boyfriend, Mark, of sixteen years. Her pain is certainly understandable, but she just drags herself away from the world, avoiding everyone who could help, because of these douchey guys who held no respect for her. It proves how little self-esteem she truly has and sometimes a character that feels that low about herself is hard to read about. I would have liked to see that she got some help for what is clearly a form of clinical depression, but sadly, that does not occur. Being so down that you let your laundry pile up, rarely bathe, hardly eat, and immerse yourself in work is terribly unhealthy, and, while I’m glad she was able to gradually work herself out of it, I still feel that she needs to seek professional help for it, or she’ll be in the same place when another bad thing happens.

I do like that the book promotes a healthy romance. When she is with John, their interactions are cute and respectful of one another. They laugh and tease one another, have intellectual and meaningful conversations, and don’t flip out on one another for stupid reasons. She is able to be herself around him and he loves her for exactly who she is – he always has. For once, the man was waiting for the woman to decide she wants the relationship, silently pining, but not letting it consume him. Also, I like that the romance is not the central focus of the novel – Portia’s character growth is. Both she and John continue their normal lives, even though something is clearly developing between them. It was a relationship I found myself rooting for because I knew that John would be good for her, unlike her past mistakes.

I do feel the book suffers a lot from extensive exposition. There were many times that I found myself getting lost in thought and losing my place. Not everything needs to be given so much explanation. Let it unfold naturally. I don’t need to know every last detail. There were also points of redundancy, such as in mid-conversation: “He laughed. He said, ‘I’m on my way.’” Couldn’t it have just been, “He laughed, ‘I’m on my way’”? I think most readers get that he is responding to her with that alone. I don’t think the “he said” portion is necessary. Lastly, there are a few name mix-ups in the final fourth of the novel – something an editor should have caught. The rest of novel is pristine and error free, but those name mix-ups are jarring.

Overall, it is a decent read, but I probably won’t revisit it. Portia is a very real character, even if she isn’t always relatable or likable. The romance is cute and understated; a simple factor in Portia’s journey to self-acceptance – something she desperately needs.