![]() Cassidy Serhienko Lately I have been very into anything set in Paris. Not that I’ve actually read that many books, I just think a lot about how I would like to. It’s the New Orleans effect for me, if I see anything that takes place in either of these cities I automatically click Want to Read (whether or not I actually do is up for debate). So a fantasy HEIST set in Paris was basically made for me. Though it is never explicitly stated (because the language did not exist in the era the book is set in), Zofia is clearly on the autism spectrum. Enrique is a bisexual disaster (although nowehere near Hypnos’ level of tragic and dramatic), and Laila is a dancer from India. If you’re looking for quality diversity in a fantasy, The Gilded Wolves definitely has it. However, I didn’t think that Chokshi gave herself time to really delve into each of the character’s and their issues, but seeing as this is a series I think that she did a good job of establishing each of them and getting us invested while still giving them room to grow and issues to explore in the sequel. Time was really my biggest issue with the novel, and was perhaps why I didn’t find it as memorable as I would have thought given everything that it has going for it. I felt that some of the biggest issues should have either been left for the next book, or devoted more space. Like Laila was created from a dead baby? Or something? That was kind of just thrown at us and never really addressed again. And the big emotional climax didn’t really have much payoff for me. *Spoiler: We were never given enough time to really get to know Tristan to feel the effects of his death* All that said, I think that the set up for book 2 was superb (meaning all that tension between Laila and HBIC Séverin) and the characters and world are worth buying into this series, so I will definitely be picking up The Silvered Serpents.
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![]() Meghan Brehon This is one of those books where I didn’t read the synopsis very closely. I am glad for this, as I was then rewarded with a more surprising plot (this isn’t to say that the story isn’t twist-y and turn-y for those who actually take the time to read and comprehend the synopsis rather than skimming it and going “neato” before purchasing). Going in, I thought that I would be reading about the world going into an apocalyptic state as a pathogen sweeps the globe (*ahem ahem* literary parallels *ahem ahem*), but then was pleasantly surprised as that was decidedly not what was actually going down. The book instead offered an interesting and new form of time travel and explored the ramifications of using this advanced technology in modern day. There are two narrators that the book alternates between, a New York detective, and the neuroscientist responsible for the development of the technology. Aside from switching between the narrators, the story also switches between timelines, going from taking place from Helena’s point of view in, say, 2007, to Barry’s in 2018. With this format, the reader is able to observe the development of the technology while simultaneously learning of what comes of it, and the effects that it has on the world down the road. I thought this was an interesting way to be presented with the story, and I liked how the story and all of the important details of the world came together as the book progressed. As a reader, I only really gained my bearings on what was going on later in the book when all of the pieces fell into place, and I was able to go “oooooh that’s what’s happening here”. I appreciate that this novel is a standalone. For the most part when I read things in the sci-fi genre, there is a long string of books to follow through to get the whole story, and I just feel like series are a good way to set myself up for disappointment. I am a fan of the one and done format (with the exception of a number of notable series, of course). This book incorporates time travel, action, and a bit of romance for an overall captivating read. My attention was held by the fast-moving plot, and I was actively thinking while reading to try and understand and digest the alternate timelines going on, as well as the complex methods for time travel. This book has stayed with me, as after finishing the novel I have found myself returning to thinking about the concepts behind the time travelling technology in the book a number of times. All in all, I found the book to be both entertaining and thought-provoking (in the realm of hypothetical time travel scenarios). ![]() Cassidy Serhienko Even if you closely followed the Harvey Weinstein story as it broke and Ronan Farrow’s own reporting, you do not know the whole story. Catch and Kill is at once enraging, sad, and inspiring. Enraging and sad because of the viciousness and entitlement of men like Weinstein and Lauer, the culture of silence they created, and the apathy or dismissal from those who allowed or helped it happen. Inspiring because of the courage, resilience, and compassion of women, the support of their families and partners, and the dedication of reporters like Farrow who tread on despite the immense roadblocks placed in their path by predators and the ones who cover for them. They aren’t lying when they say that Catch and Kill reads like a spy novel. For the majority of us who do not live in a world where private investigators are hired to follow, intimidate, and manipulate our supposed enemies, the measures that Weinstein and those around him went to to protect decades of systematic predation and abuse is shocking and alarming. Farrow does not need to be a master storyteller to keep you riveted and invested, though he is. He knows exactly how to interject his own voice, humour, struggles, and concerns and then fade away to let the women he worked with tell their own stories and claim their own space. It would be hard to describe this book as hopeful, even though it ends with the exposure and downfall of criminals and predators. Catch and Kill exposes how power and access often allow corruption to build and build and build until it seems colossal and untouchable. But it also shows how the voices of women, helped by a reporter like Farrow, can break it until it all comes crumbling down. “In the end, the courage of women can’t be stamped out. And stories — the big ones, the true ones — can be caught but never killed.” ![]() Cassidy Serhienko I have very strong, very mixed feelings about this book. I only bought it in the first place because Harry Styles talked about it in his interview with Timothee Chalamet, and I would literally do anything that he says. Until about halfway through I would have told you that I hated it and hated Toru, but there’s something about it. I don’t know if the prose gets better or if I just got more accustomed to the style. And to the truly awful female representation, but more on that later. I had tried to read this book once before but couldn’t make it past fifty pages, but this time around I couldn’t put it down until I finished. Love it or hate it (and I think I might hate it?) this book makes you feel something. The thing is, I can’t tell how aware of itself the book is. For example, does Murakami know that every single female character is pretty much a stereotype of a woman seen through a very one dimensional male gaze or is this just how he actually thinks women are? Because I find it very hard to give a shit about a book in which women, even cliche stock characters of women, are treated like utter garbage. Midori and Naoko are each different versions of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and I don’t know what tf to say about Reiko after that absolutely ridiculous ending to her friendship with Toru. BUT if this is the point, and Murakami is trying to discuss the way that Toru views women and sex then maybe there’s something to it and I just wasn’t thinking deeply enough. I don’t know. I don’t know if I can or should try to justify it. I would think that for a book with so many female characters that there would be ONE that doesn’t get treated so horribly, but alas. And is every sexual encounter supposed to be super one sided and problematic? I honestly have no idea. I want to say yes, but the fact that the issues driving each girl to initiate each encounter are never adequately addressed, I find it hard to say. I know what it was that prevented me from getting into the novel the first time I tried to read it. For pretty much the entirety of the book, Toru is unconscionably dull. Though all of the other characters are a thousand times more interesting then he is, it’s hard to get into something when the narrator is so boring. It’s like he has no feelings or expressions. He doesn’t feel good, he doesn’t feel bad. And even though he has a fair amount of sexual experiences and talks about it with girls quite a lot over the course of the story, you never get the sense that he feels any kind of desire. He’s just there, observing everything without making any particular observations. Nagasawa (who is NOT interesting, and is just another arrogant, pretentious, douchebag but at least he has some freaking passion) is right about him: “neither of us is interested, essentially, in anything but ourselves... neither of us is able to feel any interest in anything other than what we ourselves think or feel or do.” Where Nagasawa is wrong, is that Watanabe doesn’t have any thoughts or feelings and doesn’t do much of anything at all. Perhaps there could be something moving in this quiet grief, but the novel rarely seems to dive into Toru’s own consciousness. He’s like a voyeur to other people’s pain without having any kind of actual response. The only reason that I know that Toru is making these decisions because he’s dealing with his own pain is because the author tells us so, he doesn’t show us which I find very strange for such a strong writer. Sure there are some truly beautiful passages, like when Watanabe describes how his love for Midori is like a spring bear. And there are moments where Toru seems almost human and less like a robot, primarily in the last section of the novel, but there’s a lot of nothing to get through before then. Once you move past Toru as a narrator the rest of the novel can be weird, wonderful, and moving. Watanabe (for some reason) attracts a lot of messed up people. The IDEA of each character was fascinating but the actual result… not so much. The book had all of the parts to be great, and Murakami’s writing is beautiful. It’s a testament to his skill that a reader could be so entranced when they can barely point to one thing that they liked. |
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