mjenae's reviews
249 reviews

I like it even better than the first.
I'm surprised, and impressed, that Sanderson was able to keep up the same tone and interest in this one and yet still provide a refreshed narrative without too many references to the first book. Although I shouldn't be. Because it's Sanderson. And he can do that kind of thing with both hands tied behind his back, blindfolded, suspended upside-down over a pit of snakes while being sucked into a black hole.
Ooookay, this Alcatraz guy is really getting to me.
(Also, I love Kaz. Oh, and Bastille. And Grandpa Smedry. Did I mention Kaz? He's so smart and funny—which, yes, does give him a tendency to be sarcastic. But mostly smart.)

When I started this book, I thought it was hilarious. It was hilarious, the whole way through. Alcatraz is so unpredictable and serious in his humor, and I loved it. But what I did not expect at all was to be crying a fourth of the way through the book... and half of the way... and three quarters... you get the picture. As much fun as Alcatraz pokes at "important" and "meaningful" books, this one is actually quite meaningful itself. Sure, there's the whole thing about magical sand and nonsensical powers and a librarian cult that runs the world, but there's also a foster boy struggling with abandonment, coming to terms with himself and what he really feels about the people he loves... and the people he never got a chance to love. It felt like a triumph just reading it.

The characters popped off the page! I saw each one exactly as described, each with their own voice and quirks and way of interacting with the world. What a wonderful cast.
For some reason, I've been reading a lot of books lately that touch on the theme of an absent father. I can't relate personally, but the way it was portrayed in Sparrow Road came across as very realistic to me. I could feel Raine's feelings, and it made sense—her longing, her hesitation, her anger, her anxiety. I'm glad she took me on the journey with her.
One special part for me was Diego coaching Raine through becoming a writer: the "what was or what could be." His advice was very solid, and I took it to heart. I think I'd have appreciated it even more had I read it when I was Raine's age and just becoming a serious writer myself.

Wow, that was… amazing.

When I think back over it, I think about

Topher, the talented artist with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes, coming home to an empty house or parents who brush him off with an “Oh cool I've got to go sorry,” chasing adventure and wanting to be the superhero of every problem (especially Ms. Bixby's), always looking on the positive side—

Steve, with his head on Topher's shoulder on the ride home, stumbling under the weight of so many expectations, suffering in silent limerence and yet staying loyal to his friends through thick and thin, and getting his own triumph at the end (I am so proud of him)—

Brand, strong and capable and determined and so tired of being the responsible one (huddled in Ms. Bixby's arms in the ER, following her down the grocery store aisle, staring at the drawing of her as he walks home past the blossoming cherry trees), never giving up even when the dark clouds keep getting deeper—

And Ms. Bixby, short brown hair with a streak of pink, always quoting classics, reading The Hobbit with all the voices, that spark of life still there even when her hair falls away and her cheeks sink in (hands on her legs as she slowly makes her way down the hill), inspiring and loving and supportive and somehow managing to fill the holes in each of her students’ lives.

This story is led by adventure and backstory and 3D characters, full of thought-provoking reflections and quote-worthy sentences, and absolutely bursting with heart. I thoroughly enjoyed it, even through the tears (maybe especially through the tears), and I'm excited to read more of Anderson's work.

I like this one even better than the first one.

Reasons I loved it:

I do wish she'd write a third book. We never get a chance to see how Amelia deals with the fear of becoming like her father, or how it turns out for Mr. Midnight (who hopefully gets redemption—I didn't actually hate him). Miss Mott doesn't necessarily get a conclusion, either. I want to know what happens next.

And I thought the graphic novel was intense.
Absolutely spellbinding.

Well, I just finished crying from the last chapter. So that's nice.

(Not because it was sad, of course. It was just a beautiful ending.)

[*long exhale]

I feel like it's very difficult for an author of a memoir to portray themselves in an honest light, without prejudice. I definitely wouldn't be able to do it. Well, McCarthy did, and I was impressed. It would've been easy for him to hide the less attractive parts, to excuse his occasional attitude and mistakes as a reasonable reaction to the long journey or his son's teenage aggravation. But he didn't. He was authentic in portraying his faults, and he didn't do it in a “I'm being gracious for my son and the readers” way, either. He was humble; it felt raw and open.

On top of being honest, McCarthy is funny when he wants to be, poetic when he wants to be, intelligent most of the time, and a loving and loyal husband and father all the time. At the beginning, I thought I was mostly along for Sam*, but the farther I got into the story the more I grew to love Andrew and his candid voice. Watching the two navigate their relationship together was very special; it felt like I was being let in on something secret and sacred.

Another fun aspect was the people they met and talked to along the way. Sam is very friendly and comfortable with strangers, which means the readers receive a variety of diverse Camino stories, weaving in and out of McCarthy's own walk. Their perspectives added another (appreciated) dimension.

So yes, I would recommend this. Especially to someone who wants a breath of Spain and doesn't mind a spoonful of relationship philosophy mixed in (and can handle a bit of swearing).

Now—anyone want to walk the Camino with me?

*Sam is full of life, random and bursting with spontaneity. His comments and just general personality make for some good laughs (and I cried in the end because of him, too). As much as I loved Andrew, the story without Sam would not have been nearly as enjoyable.

This was… a lot more than I expected.
So much happens. Enthralling, but also so much to take in.
For some reason, I did not realize it was a mult-generational family saga when I began. But I wasn't disappointed to find it out.
The author is writing coming-of-age stories. Where most writers would choose either to write from a teenage/adult perspective or a children's perspective, Moranville tried to straddle the awkward line between… and it was awkward. Too graphic to be a kids’ book, but simple enough to feel like middle grade; it made me feel sort of confused.
And edgy. Especially Jill's story (right in the middle of the hippie movement) which put me in a scary frame of mind. It didn't help that I was reading it on a cloudy day.
But there were some very well-written scenes. I did like the writing style. And Jim's story (throughout the whole book) was so sweet. He was the glue that held the family together—always trying to fix things, to be the answer. (Definitely an Enneagram 2.) I enjoyed his recurring appearance, and especially how the last story brought it back to him. He didn't get a lot of character development, but he was steady.
I don't know what else to say without spoiling it. I probably won't keep the book. But I know the story will stay with me for a long time.

Things That Especially Worked:

Nothing about these stories was realistic. But it was medieval fantasy rom-com, scattered with mystery and suspense—and I could never say no to that. I'm happy this series exists, and I'm glad it was here for me to read now. Thank you, Jean Ferris.

Enlightening. I'm always down for learning about mental illnesses from the lips of those who have experienced them.
I didn't love all of the stories. A couple had originally been published in newspapers, and I could tell—they sounded like outlined essays. But some were very beautifully written—and I can't argue the validity of any of them.
I would reccomend this book to anyone who wishes to gain a better understanding of any or all of the mental illnesses. Just go in with an open perspective, and trigger warnings in mind.