good english

The idea behind After Visiting Friends is compelling: Hainey, the son of a newspaper man and a journalist himself, launches an investigation into the circumstances of his father's death after noticing inconsistencies in the story.

He talks to surviving relatives, friends of the family, and his father's coworkers, and takes a few trips to flesh out the story. While describing the steps he took to find out more about his father's death, he also recounts personal memories and family history.

The secrets he uncovers throughout his journey to find the truth are not spy novel material, and the investigation is a low-key, meandering affair, but the story overall is an interesting window into the sixties- and seventies-era newspaper world, and it's a good read.

Hainey does have a style that takes a little while to get used to -- short bursts of words, fragments, brief sentences tapped out between longer sentences -- so After Visiting Friends was a slow starter for me. A few chapters in, I warmed up to it, and once that happened, I couldn't put the book down.


(three-and-a-half stars)

I Love My Slow Cooker isn't a life-changing cookbook, but I like it a lot. I find most of my recipes online these days, but I think LeBlanc's collection deserves a place alongside the other specialty cookbooks on my (virtual) bookshelf.

It's got the standard cookbook set-up: you can find general slow cooker info and some solid helpful tips in the beginning of the book; I've been using a slow cooker for a while and I still managed to find a few tidbits I could use. Then onto the recipes!

The photos throughout this cookbook are very nice, and the recipes themselves go outside the range of your the typical old-fashioned slow cooker guide, which pleased me immensely. This one is full of things like Hot and Sour Duck and Mushroom Soup, Vegetable and Cashew Red Curry, and Vanilla and Pepper-Poached Pears. It also has plenty of the usual fare, like Pulled Pork and a One-Step Beef Stew. I think anyone could find something to like, but those who don't find dishes with non-standard ingredients appealing won't get as big of a kick out of this book as a whole.

In general, I think I Love My Slow Cooker breaks down recipes well, with clear writing and easy-to-understand directions. No complaints there.

I highlighted about a dozen recipes before deciding to try LeBlanc's Red Lentil and Sweet Potato Soup, since I had almost everything on hand. The recipe was very easy to follow, took practically no time to prepare -- I'm a slow chopper, so it took a little longer than the 15 minutes stated in the recipe, but it still didn't take too long. The end result was hearty and delicious. I'm looking forward to trying more!

I was all set to dislike A Grief Observed after reading the annoying introduction by Lewis's stepson (so much Satan up in there). However, I found myself relating, a lot, to where Lewis's thoughts roamed in his journals, although I have never lost someone as close and beloved to me as H. was to Lewis, and even if I had I would be hard pressed to find the right words to describe any of it as well as he did.

I've read that this book has more resonance for those who are actively grieving, and I can see that, but I did plenty of figurative head-nodding while reading along. The thoughts Lewis wrote down while questioning the strength of his faith are familiar to me. I expected his musings to be staid and boring -- again, taking my cue from the introduction -- so the love and sense of humor that shine through Lewis's writing, even at his lowest points, were pleasant surprises.

Lewis can be elitist at times but I feel the pluses of A Grief Observed -- the honesty, the unexpected humor, the way one man's specific grief is turned into something that resonates within so many others -- make up for any snobbishness on the author's part. It's a good read if you're in the right spot for it.

Before A Constellation of Vital Phenomena, I knew one thing about Chechnya: how to mispronounce its name. Now I'm an expert on recent Chechnyan history thanks to Anthony Marra and the Google.

I usually love books that make me want to go off on Rabbit Trails of Learning, and this one is no exception. But it's not just that -- I loved SO MANY THINGS about Constellation.

Don't get me wrong, it's hard to read at times, just because of the harsh setting (conflict-ridden Chechnya) and pervasiveness of war. We get to know a generous handful of characters, and I found myself loving almost all of them, but war is almost a character itself, wrapping itself around the everyday lives of those people, and I had to take breaks every now and then. There's a brief but awful torture scene maybe halfway through the novel that I should have skimmed. Nothing is gratuitous but it's still pretty harsh. It's war. Ultimately, though, there is enough hope, enough light let into the pages, that it's uplifting despite all of that.

The narrative starts in 2004, as a father is disappeared and his daughter goes into hiding. It loosely follows the attempt to keep her hidden, but Marra plays with the timeline, popping in and out of different points in a ten-year time span. This could be a mess, but there's a header at the beginning of each chapter that clearly marks the year being covered in that chapter, and it works.

One of the things I liked the most about Constellation is the way everything, and everyone, eventually intersects. Marra focuses on three people, but there are so many characters inside this book, and they wander in and out of each others' lives throughout those ten years, creating ripples that reach into the future. It's a web of a novel, and it's lovely.

And the prose! There are so many beautiful turns of phrase in Constellation that I eventually gave up highlighting my favorites. If I had been reading a print book, and not an e-galley, my copy would have looked like some sort of bizarre basketweaving-with-text experiment.

Yes, it's safe to say I capslock loved this one. Way to start a career with a bang -- I'll definitely keep an eye out for Marra's work in the future.

I put off writing a review for The Iron King because I don't have much to say about it: I liked it well enough while I was reading it, I didn't actively hate the main character and I don't remember wanting the book to be over or anything, but two days later, I had to reacquaint myself with the characters (and their flowing locks) and plot points before I could write a review. Junk food for the brain.

Yes, this is yet another offering in the trendy "faeries with a twist" genre, but Kagawa writes it well enough that I stayed attached to it until I was done: sixteen-year-old Meghan follows her young half-brother into the Nevernever after he's abducted. Over the course of the book, she discovers she's half-fey -- and a princess, at that -- and gets to deal with searching for her brother AND being used as a kind of political tool.

There are a lot of enjoyable literary references mixed into the story, too, like Kagawa's homage to Carroll's Cheshire Cat. And as is standard for this type of novel, there's a love triangle, although I wasn't really convinced that either of the Meghan-related arms of the triangle worked.

While I might not easily remember all the details of the book, I do remember a few quirky things: some words that were used in strange ways that might have been technically correct but were still odd (like "scanty wardrobe" meaning a limited selection of clothing) and an instance where Meghan notes that another character has addressed her by her name for the FIRST TIME -- I know, right? pitter pat -- except he has actually done so at least twice before, and one of those instances was all of two pages ago.

It's obvious that The Iron King is the first of a series; most plot points are wrapped up nicely but the ending is built for a sequel. I am not convinced that I NEED to read the next book in the series, but if I see it at the library, I'll pick it up.

The Twisted Window has the same feel as the teenager-in-peril books I devoured as a melodrama-loving kid, back in the early-to-mid '90s. I don't remember reading anything by Duncan but the book felt familiar anyway.

In a nutshell: our heroine, Tracy, is approached by a boy named Brad, who asks for her help. Brad is trying to find his baby sister, whom he believes was snatched by his ex-stepfather, and he wants Tracy to be his sidekick. She agrees, and the book follows their mission to its conclusion.

It's a short read, and moves quickly, although there's a bit of unnecessary detouring here and there: the commercials that are on the teevee while Tracy's aunt and uncle are chatting, some out-of-place similes. Tracy is a likeable character for the most part, and I appreciated that she was aware of what was going on around her instead of being clueless. She had a few bratty moments but what teenager doesn't? Sometimes Brad behaves in a manner that would make Edward Cullen proud, so I found it hard to trust him, which kind of worked with the story.

I liked most of the adults -- with one or two exceptions, they're people dealt unexpected hands, doing the best they can. The Twisted Window isn't chock-full of adult interactions, but when they appeared (mostly as exposition) I enjoyed them; I'm used to the adult POV being absent from these books.

The story itself has a handful of twisty turns, most of which are telegraphed far in advance. I don't know if a younger reader would see them coming quite as easily; I guess it would depend on her level of media saturation. To Duncan's credit, I still kept reading despite the predictability, wanting to see how everything would pan out. I enjoyed it despite my crystal ball.

While it still has the tone of those books I used to mainline, the e-book version I just finished (which was a NetGalley find) has been updated, most noticeably with mentions of cell phones, and I guess that makes sense for the younger generation, who would probably be like "Why wouldn't he just use his cell?" or whatever. However, it still has elements that make it FEEL like an older book -- the slang, a Garfield clock, a forest green scoopneck dress and French braid being "exotic" -- so I'm not sure it totally works. I think it might have been better to trust the reader to know that not everyone had cell phones in the late '80s. It did make for a fun game of find-the-new-bits, though!

Oh, and there's a little mini-bio of Duncan at the back of the book, complete with photographs of a baby Lois and her parents and their FABULOUS holiday cards. It was like a little treat at the end of an already satisfactory trip to Nostalgia Land.

As with [b:Cozy Classics: Moby Dick|13593636|Cozy Classics Moby Dick|Holman Wang|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1344751132s/13593636.jpg|19181790], the Wangs' Pride and Prejudice-themed board book could have used a unifying theme to make the whole thing work better for infants and younger toddlers.

Cozy Classics: Pride and Prejudice follows the series m.o. of twelve photographs of perfect needle-felted people and objects, each paired with a single descriptive word. However, Austen's plot is a little too complicated for a twelve-word synopsis that will make sense to a toddler, and the end result is a web of ADORABLE pictures that could be read in a hundred different ways. Luckily I had watched a film version of Pride and Prejudice the weekend prior to reading the board book, so I had some idea what was going on.

I read this one to my three-year-old, who wanted to know why the girl was sick and why the man was mean, and said the girl was mean for saying "no" to the man -- so at least this works for an older child, as a stepping-off point to a larger story. You'll just have to tell that story yourself.


(three-and-a-half stars)

Okay, first of all, the felted objects and photography in the Wangs' retelling of Moby Dick -- I read the digital version, but IRL it's a board book for babies -- are PERFECT. ADORABLE, CLEVER, BEAUTIFUL, PERFECT. I cannot say enough good things about them.

Telling the story of Moby-Dick in a baby-friendly way is a challenge, I suppose. Cozy Classics: Moby Dick uses twelve photographs, and pairs up a single word with each photograph. It can be confusing if you haven't read the classic text; I've never read Melville's version and have only a passing familiarity with the original tale. I could gather the gist of it by reading this board book, but who knows how accurate I was.

I do think the book, as a whole, could have benefited from having a unified theme in the words instead of trying to follow the original storyline; my 18-month-old could understand "boat" but there's a picture of an (ADORABLE) angry Ahab -- at least, that's who I think it is based on my sad half-knowledge -- that's been paired with the word "mad," which is a concept she really doesn't get yet. And "floating" didn't stand a chance. If all the words had been objects, it would have been smooth sailing (har har), but the mix of objects and emotions and action words (like "sail" and "find") is a little harder for her to grasp.

That wouldn't stop me from picking up a copy of this book, though. I'd probably just change the words as I read it, to something more concrete for the little ones. It'd be worth it. The felting! The photography! AAAH SO CUTE.


(three-and-half stars)

Have we created more adaptations of Alice in Wonderland than strictly necessary? NEVER. I love the story -- I still mourn the loss of the big fat Alice/Looking Glass combo I owned as a kid -- so I'm always up for a new version.

Espinosa's approach to the story, in graphic novel form, looked promising, and it's cute enough, but I may have expected too much from it. I prefer a little more twist in my Alice adaptations, but this a very straightforward rendering that hits most of the high points of Carroll's story while retaining a clean, easy-to-understand plot that moves forward quickly. It might be too straightforward for some readers, but it doesn't drag or become a jumbled mess, despite many panels that are simply Alice making surprised faces or exclaiming at something or other.

I don't read a lot of manga, and the art isn't the sort I usually dig, but Espinosa's style is charming at times: I love the Cheshire Cat, and the hedgehogs in the croquet scenes were adorable. On the whole, though, the drawings didn't add anything to my enjoyment of the story. I don't think that's Espinosa's fault; it's either an art style you like or it's one that leaves you cold, and it's pretty subjective. Do you like the cover? If so, you'll probably like what's inside the book.

Overall, this variation of Alice in Wonderland didn't do much for me -- too simplistic and drawn in a style that left me meh for the most part -- but I do think that it would be a great way to introduce younger kids to the original story. My eldest is currently on a graphic novel kick and I can easily imagine her loving Espinosa's rendition.

Can I blame dial-up for this? Does that make me sound like a time traveler? I requested The Curse of Dracula from NetGalley because HELLO, I LOVE DRACULA, as in the old-timey book. Stoker's classic spooked me deliciously and unexpectedly, so I saw that Dark Horse Comics was offering a collection of a series that involved a more modern Dracula story, and figured it would be fun.

HOWEVER. My dial-up was acting up so I didn't see the cover before requesting the book; if I had seen it, I would have known it wasn't my cup of tea, based on the artwork alone. Once I downloaded it, though, I figured I might as well read it anyway -- I mean, I like comics, and I like supernatural stories, so it's not terribly out of my range.

I'll just be upfront here: I didn't like The Curse of Dracula. The story felt incomplete, and I like my TPBs to feel more contained within themselves. The artwork was okay, but came off as dated, and I found it confusing at times, although part of the difficulty might have been that I was viewing it on a computer screen.

I also had a problem connecting with the characters. The story is essentially this: a gang of vampire hunters are . . . hunting vampires. Also Dracula is involved in a presidential race. Don't look for a conclusion to either storyline, though, because it all just kind of STOPS at the end of the book. Maybe the series was never completed? The good guys were the vampire hunters, but they were just sketches, for the most part, and when one of their number was seriously injured, I honestly had to go back to the beginning of the book to remember who he was. The plot isn't cohesive and it's hard to be properly horrified when you're trying to figure out if you've heard of "the sanitarium" before.

It's disappointing, too, because I really, really wanted to like The Curse of Dracula after I read the foreword and introduction by Wolfman -- the foreword is from the reissue, and the introduction is from the 2005 edition -- who obviously has affection for his series and for Gene Colan, the artist behind The Curse of Dracula and Wolfman's previous series, Tomb of Dracula. Unfortunately, I enjoyed reading those bits of text way more than I enjoyed the story itself.

Maybe hardcore horror fans who are into comics would get more of a kick out of The Curse of Dracula than I did; I might just be the wrong audience for it. Anyway, it was interesting to go outside my comfort zone, but I think I'll scamper back home for a while.


(one-and-a-half stars)

Everything I know about Norse mythology I learned from a superhero movie. Which, weirdly, helps a lot when you find yourself in the middle of a fairy tale -- that's probably not the slot it technically falls into, but I can't think of it as anything else -- that involves Thor and Asgard and the Rainbow Bridge, especially when the story is so short there's no space for the author to explain most of the mythology.

Odd and the Frost Giants was sitting on my bookshelf, ready to be returned to the library because Rabbit decided it was not for her, and I thought "SELF, YOU NEED TO READ SOMETHING ADORABLE" and decided to give it a go. Gaiman's story is, indeed, adorable. I liked it a lot. I don't know if I would have liked it as much if I hadn't seen Thor a couple of months ago; I probably would have been a little lost. Also, on the one hand, I wish Odd had been less of a hollow character, but on the other hand, the way he's written kind of works with the whole fairy tale thing.

The illustrations are charming, too. I think I'm eventually going to find a copy of this to stick on the bookshelf.

The two-star rating isn't fair, but I didn't enjoy Unholy Night very much. Grahame-Smith tells a good story, tweaking the established framework of the Nativity to build a compelling tale filled with adventure, revenge, and a little mysticism; however, the novel's bad guys are really indefensibly bad, and I don't think it's a spoiler to say that any story involving King Herod is going to be heavy on the horrible.

These things would be fine if I weren't such a delicate over-invested flower, and I think for most readers -- readers who are able to separate themselves from the story -- this would be a rollicking adventure. For those who are familiar with the New Testament, it might be fun to spot divergences and see which familiar names make appearances in Unholy Night. There are swordfights! Very carefully described swordfights. There's a lot of cutting and hacking and ducking and plunging.

And that's where I ran into a problem, because a lot of the violence in Unholy Night is directed toward kids, BABIES, and while it's historically accurate and everything, that's just not something I can handle when I'm reading for pleasure. I can't totally deal with the adult-on-adult violence, either, to be honest -- Grahame-Smith describes it way too lovingly -- but the huge amount of kid stuff takes it over the edge into Have-to-Skim Territory.

I don't know, there are enough times in real life where I have to batten down the hatches so that I don't become useless to my own kids; I try not to purposefully chase after things that wreck me. I'm sure this means I'm missing out on a lot of great literature but it also keeps me (relatively) sane.

But that's my special snowflake thing, and obviously many people CAN deal, and for those people, I think this is a good book. I have a few minor quibbles, like the fact that the the only character who's fully fleshed out is Balthazar, the protagonist, and that the dialogue felt too modern at times given the historic setting. And I think the ending felt a little rushed. But then, I was skimming a lot of it so for all I know, it was perfectly timed and felt faster than it is.

So, after all that long explanation, you can see why I feel like my two stars are a little unfair, but they're based on my enjoyment, right? So I'm going to leave it.

I might have liked Time of Your Life a little better if I'd read Fray first. That whole storyline seemed confusing, then hand-wave-y, then rushed. Also I spent too many minutes trying to remember why I hated Kennedy so much. Maybe I should have rewatched season seven first, too.

I did enjoy the Big Reveal, though.


(four-and-a-half stars)

Predators and Prey . . . still good, but not as consistently likeable for me as the first four volumes.

I don't like Harmony. I have never found her as funny as the writers apparently do. The reality teevee show thing feels overdone; I just wish they could have found another way to get the anti-Slayer sentiment going. However, the non-Harmony-centric issues were pretty good, especially Safe and titular issue.

Okay, the Dracula episode of the teevee series is one that I only half-watched, if that, so I don't get most of the Dracula/Xander interaction, and I'm kinda pissed that the cute relationship between Xander and Renee had to end in her death. I realize it made sense within the story but still, BOO.

(four-and-a-half stars)

FAITH! I loved her storyline. The Giles-ness of it was an added bonus.

TOTALLY IRRELEVANT: some kid (I assume) drew ALL OVER this volume. I've never encountered this sort of stupidity in a library book before: at the beginning of the volume, the "artist" just lightly drew over already existing lines that indicated cleavage, but by the end of it s/he was adding nonsensical BOOBS!-related lines, adding nipples, etc. It was ridiculous. One of the hazards of borrowing library books -- better than finding food stuck between the pages, I guess.