My Geek-inspired review…

Is this as good as people keep saying? (Alessandra)
Yes. It’s very, very good, and deserves all the gushing it’s getting. Different from what I was expecting, but powerful and thought-provoking and as good as I had been led to believe.

Does this book seem typically YA, or could it be classified as a novel for adults with a younger protagonist? (Bybee)
Hmm… I think it depends on the adult. It’s not as detailed or as developed as an adult book. Pearson was very careful with her word choice; it reads much like a book of poetry — every word carries multiple implications. As a result, though, there’s a lot missing that I think a “typical” adult might want out of a novel. On the other hand, it deals with issues and themes that I think are interesting (as an adult) and could spark interesting discussions among adults. It would be a good book group book.

Is this a book that you would recommend to the average 13+ teenager? Or would you say that it depends on the maturity level of the child? (Book Zombie) I would recommend to the average teenager. (M — she’s not quite 12) wants to read it and I think she’d be interested in it.) There’s nothing “inappropriate”, and it might spark some interesting discussion.

When Jenna struggles with the ethical issues she faces, did you find yourself strongly taking one side or another, or did you find yourself unable to really put yourself in that position, or how did you react if in neither of the ways I’ve suggested? (Dewey) I think I often came down on the side of the grandmother. I understand the moral and ethical dilemmas that Jenna had to face, but I also agreed with Lily: it was wrong, it should have never had happened. Granted, it was too late, and I don’t believe it would have been morally right to undo it. Did that make sense without giving too much away?

What are some of the qualities you liked or disliked in the grandmother character? The boyfriend character? The neighbor character? (Dewey) Oh, I loved the grandmother — the fact that while she was torn between what she felt was right and who she loved. I also liked that she was straightforward, telling Jenna what she needed to know (rather than what she wanted to hear). The boyfriend was so-so. I appreciated that he was accepting of Jenna, but I felt like their relationship lacked chemistry — more a friendship, rather than a relationship. I did wonder if the only reason she ended up with him is because she’s the first person who believed in her. As for the neighbor, I liked that he had re-invented himself, which is a primary reason for him being interested in, and friendly to, Jenna. I liked that he was sympathetic to her situation, especially when she needed someone to be understanding and not judging.

Can you sum up the life lesson to be learned from this book in a sentence or two? (Suey) No. I can’t. Not without giving too much away — and I think it’s better if you don’t know much going in. It makes the revelation that much more surprising (though I have to admit that I had an inkling) and the second half more powerful. But I will say that it touches on issues of humanity and ethics and love (parent to child and the other way around) and expectations we have for each other. It’s an excellent read.

I’ll add more if I get more questions.

I have mixed feelings about this book by master storyteller, Jane Yolen. It’s not so much a retelling of the Arthurian legend, but rather a rethinking of the tales. She takes elements of the original legend — most specifically the sword in the stone — and turns it upside down and inside out. I liked what she did with it, but there was a part of me that felt dissatisfied in the end.

Arthur’s been king for four years, and still there’s unrest in the country. Not everyone — most notably, Morgause (in her typical role of North Witch, master of the black arts) — is convinced that Arthur should be High King. So his mage, Merlinnus, devises a plan: put a sword in a stone, with some writing on it that declares that the person who draws the sword will be king, and challenge anyone to pull it out. Of course, only Arthur can, since Merlinnus put a spell on it so that would be the only possible solution.

Yet this book isn’t so much about Arthur, as it is about Gawen. He shows up near the beginning, desiring to become one of Arthur’s knights. He gets shuffled off — because of his size and quick wit — to be Merlinnus’s assistant instead. There’s something puzzling about Gawen… how he knows so much, his observations, his becoming one of Arthur’s trusted advisors.

I liked Gawen… I liked him even more at the end, even though I felt the ending was a bit rushed. (Yes, there is a secret there, but I had my suspicions about a third of the way through, and figured it out a little more than halfway, so it’s not really that big of a secret.) It had the elements of everything I like: intrigue; magic; Merlin as his old cranky self; Arthur as a loveable, bear-like king; and I admit I didn’t even mind this Morgause too much. I really liked Gawen. But maybe that was it: Gawen was too perfect, to pert, too right, too observent, too… too much. And in the end, I thought it just was a bit unbalanced. Maybe a little less would have been more here.

Still, it’s a interesting — if imperfect — interpretation of the Arthurian legend.

I have to admit this up front: I was burned out when I read this book. Burned out on fantasy, burned out on reading so much in a row, burned out from lack of sleep (and activity). So, that may have affected what I thought of it.

Because I thought it was dull, boring, poorly written, with uninteresting characters and plot. It didn’t get truly interesting until the last 100 pages, and even then, I was dissatisfied with the ending.

Set 60 years after Swordspoint, The Fall of Kings deals with a noble and a scholar who are lovers, but also a scholar who comes to think he’s a wizard from the ancient ages and his lover is the new King of the Land. It has shadows of Arthurian legend, but done somewhat clumsily. I was bored with the history, I was bored with the myth (told you I tended to skip those parts…), I was bored with the machinations of the main characters.

I think what I really missed was the sword fighting. And the chess game of the first novel. I was dissatisfied with the ending, but at least I enjoyed the journey. That’s much better than loathing the journey and being mildly interested in the ending.

M and I were talking about the Attolia series (or whatever the name of this trilogy is) to Hubby over lunch today, and it occurred to me that not only are they kind of difficult to explain, they actually end up sounding a lot lamer than they really are.

So, I got to thinking (after I finished the third book) why did I love these so much? It’s the writing: Turner is a superb storyteller, creating worlds and characters with as good a talent as Robin McKinley or Shannon Hale. But, I realized (especially after finishing the third book), that it was also because of Gen. He’s a wonderful hero — the true anti-hero, someone who is but doesn’t want to be — but he’s also the bad boy, the thief, the one who can’t be tamed. Which makes him infinitely alluring.

After being moody for all of the second book, Gen is back in almost as good of form as he was in The Thief. The only reason it’s not as good is because Gen’s, um, king and is required (for the most part) to act the role. Except the people of Attolia don’t want him there, and to be honest he doesn’t really want to be there either. Yet, he manages to rise to the occasion, with (of course) various intrigues and adventures along the way. And a myth story thrown in.

Reading these three books in quick succession made me aware of all the faults — that they’re essentially the same story three times, that Turner has some tried-and-true tricks to use. But I didn’t care. I was in love with Gen, with the world, with the story Turner was weaving.

Which is why I now want to go out and buy these three books. And it’s why — in spite of the fact that I think any reasonable person would say that this is a perfect trilogy and please leave it at that — I’m hoping that Turner doesn’t leave this world behind and will write a fourth book so she can wrap up some of the loose ends that she left hanging. Because I want to know what happens to them all.

And that’s a hallmark of a really good series. (Either that, or I’m just really tired. 🙂

I’ll try to do this without giving anything away from The Thief. Though it may be hard.

As befits the middle book in a trilogy, The Queen of Attolia is a long, dark book. It begins oh, so pleasantly with Gen getting a hand cut off in punishment. While the plot doesn’t exactly go down the proverbial hill from there, that one event sets the rest of the book in motion. You can surmise the mood for yourself.

While it’s a war book, a political book — and couldn’t be otherwise, since Attolia’s queen isn’t exactly the nicest person around — it’s also a growing story, a learning story, and even a love story.

It’s not as captivating as The Thief was (I would say I was just tired, but M — who’s read all these already… sigh — agrees with me), it has it’s delightful moments, lots of thrilling adventure, as well as expert manipulation (which I saw coming, but didn’t mind). And I really loved the love story. Thought that, while it wasn’t a beautiful, soaring one, it was honest and sweet.

Just like the characters I’ve come to love.

I have a problem with this book. More specifically, I have a problem with reviewing this book. The problem is that the ending of the book is so good, so perfect, so right, and so marvelous, and yet it’s so crucial that I not tell you what it is that I really have no idea what to write.

Gen is a thief. One that landed in the king’s prison, with no way out. Until the king’s magus — his highest advisor — decides that Gen is the person he needs, for only Gen can steal the item the magus wants. They’re off on an adventure of the highest proportions, full of daring deeds, grand myths, and wonderful wit.

I loved it, almost from page one (though it was probably more like page 7). Well-written, engaging — I even loved the stories of the gods, something I have a tendency to skip over — and winning. And, as I already said, one of the best endings I’ve read in a long time.

I can’t wait to see what happens to Gen next.

My first book for the Twisted Fairy Tale Challenge. I picked this mostly because it was a take off on Midsummer Night’s Dream: the main character, Anita/Tania, is the seventh daughter of Faerie King Oberon and Queen Titania. But that’s where the similarities end.

The basic plot is that on her 16th birthday, Anita is pulled back into the Faerie Realm (by the man who was once engaged to her as Tania) where she discovers that she’s been missing for 500 years. Everyone is overjoyed to see her, and she must set about figuring out what all this means, as well as coming to terms with her power, to straddle the Mortal and Faerie worlds.

As a stand-alone book, this wasn’t very good. Anita spends half of the book denying that she’s the fairy princess Tania, and then when she does try to accept and believe in it, she spends time trying to figure out whom to believe and wanting to get back to the Mortal World. It isn’t until the last 50 pages that the book gets exciting, where action takes over for exposition.

But as a first book in a series (which it is, the second being The Lost Queen and the third, The Sorcerer King), it serves it’s purpose extremely well. It sets up Tania as a seemingly flighty girl, but also one who knows her own mind, and who can use the experience of the Mortal World to her advantage. The romance isn’t very interesting, but since Tania spent half the book being angry at her “true” love, perhaps it will be stronger in the later books. But there’s intrigue, betrayal, and confusion, and finally revelation and an even bigger quest to fulfill. It ends with the promise of more adventure, more danger, more romance. Which is good, because the one thing this book did was leave me wanting to find out the rest of the story.

I was not planning for this to be my next read, but when it arrived in the mail on Tuesday (courtesy of Renay; THANKS!) I did a happy dance (A and her friend H were looking like they thought I was pretty weird) and immediately began reading it.

It’s basically the tale of Rumpelstiltskin, but more organic, less fairy-tale-ish. Charlotte is the daughter of a miller who dies abruptly. She and her sister, Rosie, are the last of the Miller line, and so it’s up to Charlotte to run the woolen mill, thereby supporting the town. But, there’s a run of bad luck (or is it a curse?) which leads Charlotte and Rosie to enlist the services of one Jack Spinner, who can spin straw into gold (among other things). Unfortunately, life only spins (he he) further out of Charlotte’s control from there.

One part fairy-tale, one part ghost story (and an excellent ghost story), one part historical novel, this book — the first by Elizabeth Bunce — didn’t feel like any other fairy tale book I’ve ever read before. It took me a while — 50 pages or so — to get the rhythm of the book, to understand what Bunce was trying to do with Charlotte (she grated on me at the beginning, but eventually I understood, and liked, her as a character), and to really enjoy what I was reading. But once I got past that point, life got put on hold. It was a very intriguing, engrossing, full tale. I liked the characters, I like the ghost story, I liked the resolution. The only thing that really bugged me was all the names (so many people to keep track of), but that’s such a trivial little thing.

I won’t say it’s worth it’s weight in gold… but it is a really good telling of a fairy tale.

Wow.

The drama. The heart-wrenching. The action. The moral compromises. The traitor-revealing. The sinister plots. The heroics. The ironic humor. (The footnotes?) This one’s got it all.

I loved this book — an excellent ending (I was worried after the last one, but I’m okay now)–I couldn’t put it down. And it had nothing to do with M pestering me: are you done yet?? (She went back and re-read the second one and finished it before I was done with this one….impatient girl, sometimes.) It was a gripping, engaging read. Suspenseful, funny, resourceful (go Kitty!) and redemptive.

Yet.

I’m trying to process the ending. I “get” it — the parallels between Bartimaeus and Nathaniel and Bartimaeus and Ptolemy, and the self-sacrificing… but I’m not satisfied by it. I wanted something more. Closure. A happier ending. Something less noble? That’s not to say I wish Stroud had written a different ending. I don’t. It’s just going to take some discussion and thinking and processing to figure it out.

Perhaps that’s a hallmark of a truly great book.

That’s the last one for the From the Stacks challenge. Go figure; I managed to read my entire list. (I was a bit concerned about it for a while there.) Now on to read more for my own challenge….