brittbat's reviews
1056 reviews

Oh no, my favorite escapism series is over! 

Definitely one of my favorites of the series. I enjoyed seeing Azazel's side of things, and I almost wish that this had been the first book, because it made a lot about the demon realm make more cohesive sense to me, but I guess that would have undone some of the high-stakes tension related to the territory leaders potentially losing their lands.

I also enjoyed Eve and Azazel's dynamic and the fact that they have a preexisting (professional) relationship. It went a long way toward avoiding the instalove quality that I disliked about some of the other books in the series.

Read this for a book club after many years of "idk, I guess maybe I should read that sometime?" I didn't love it, didn't hate it. Didn't really see what the hype is about, but also wanted to find out what happened next. Despised Feyre but found the villains interesting. Kept reminding myself that not everything has to engage with actual Celtic folklore, I GUESS (but books like this are better when they do...). Blew through the entire thing much more quickly than I expected.

I guess I'll listen to the second one? If only to find out if there is actually Super Sexy Sex in that one, because people lose their minds about this series being hot, but maybe I'm just... someone who takes cunnilingus as a given and is not scandalized by biting? (Tamlin does not seem very good at the sexy biting, for the record.)

Read for book club. Did not enjoy it. Your mileage may vary depending on your tolerance/enthusiasm for fat-shaming Santa every chapter, frequent mentions of Jesus, and Leonardo da Vinci inventing Sonic the Hedgehog.

Also, the worst thing about Oliver Cromwell is that he didn't like Christmas, apparently.

I've read this several times before, but lost interest in this reread.

One of the most compelling and infuriating memoirs I've ever read. I'm kind of glad that I put off reading this for so long, because I fear that if I had read it as a teenager, I might have possessed some lingering naivete that would have cast the author's parents in a bit of a rosy, bohemian glow and rounded off some of the sharper edges of Walls's experience. As an adult, though, I felt the full indignation of witnessing two people fail their children over and over again, in ways that manage to astound despite the predictability of each failure.

Perhaps the most amazing element of The Glass Castle isn't the abuse and neglect, but the fact that Walls can write about her parents without anger.