storyorc's reviews
643 reviews

Novik still excels at keeping the reader guessing what horrors the Scholomance will serve up next, to the very end. The relentless descriptions of mals and their effects make you squirm and she rises to the challenge of bringing admirable aspects to even the unlikeable characters over time. No-one could claim El's voice is not strong and distinct either and I continue to be impressed with Anisha Dadia's delivery of the audiobook too.

I rate this installment lower than the first book because the novelty of a school where even the mash can kill you started to wear a little thin when the whole book is so obviously focused around graduation. El also interests me less personally now that she seems to be trying to out-martyr Orion (whom she is still quite harsh with for some reason but, eh, teenagers). I preferred the anguish in her decision to tackle the maw-mouth in the first book. Nothing wrong with a YA book having a morally aspirational protagonist though. I do appreciate that she gripes while doing the Right Thing the way a normal person might.

A wry, poignant experience lies just beneath the surface of dry academia in these pages. Reading it feels like a cynical old professor remembering why they fell in love with literature. Possession invites you to fall in love with many things besides literature too - its timid protagonist, Victorian poetry, mythology, the internal worlds of quiet wives, Brittany, loud American scholars and their English disapprovers, the archeological study of those who devote their lives to a single historical figure, and the ridiculousness of it. Works are often called 'love letters' to their subject material but Byatt was mad enough to make Possession not only literally dozens of love letters, but sprinkle in multi-page love poems as well.

Possession is not, however, romanticised. Byatt is not wanting for a romantic turn of phrase of course, but Roland often has to think about ticket prices and rent in the middle of his international treasure-hunt. The threat of being swept up into false levels of passion is ever-present in both timelines yet the characters are always damningly aware of it. Both Christabel in the 1800s and Maud in the novel's present grapple with whether one can love without losing oneself. This titular question of possession is raised in myriad ways: though bonds of marriage and parenthood, through secrets and their uncovering, through the scholars who hoard every letter a dead poet penned and their widows who burn them. Byatt even flirts with literal possession thanks to the Victorian obsession with séances. At each junction, we are made to reckon with how much and how willingly we give ourselves away. By juxtaposing the parallels between our casts in each timeline, Byatt explores both the consequences of giving oneself away and of holding back.

On a less grandiose but no less important level, Byatt is a master of endearing us to unlikeable characters. Chapters devoted to secondary characters feel tangential, yet shine a light on inner convictions which force an appreciation for even the most meek or abrasive (looking at you, Cropper). This generous and empathetic method of revealing character resonates beautifully with the way our heroes delve through layer after layer of the scandalous secret lives of Victorian poets.

Thankfully, Byatt also knows when not to indulge in a tangent. Far from the dusty library of the first pages, this treasure-hunt-style plot crescendos into a more dramatic action scene than I would have believed. And yet, in its final moments of revelation, you feel you could hear a pin drop.

At the risk of sounding like a study guide, I encourage readers to keep an eye on imagery surrounding whiteness (the literal colour, not the race). Whenever someone started talking about how white Christabel or Maud looked, be it about purity, beauty, or frigidity, I noticed it would illuminate something about where either the speaker or object was sitting on the possession question. Also apples, though I'd have to read again to say why beyond the superficial temptation connotation - they cropped up a lot.

Read with @RoisinsReading's (Youtube) Big Book Club discord.

A punch in the throat to the American Dream, success for success' sake, office culture - all that capitalist hustle grindset bullshit. Touch grass or die, Miller warns. Forget the anthem and fancy guest speakers, this should be required viewing at every graduation ceremony. 

When Steven King wants you to be uncomfortable, you will be uncomfortable. Biggest (pleasant) surprise is that this is a more compelling insight into Steven King's thoughts on writing than his actual memoir, On Writing.

Annie and Paul are forever showing us new layers, making Misery a page-turning character study despite the slim cast. Both are at times repulsive, sometimes even while being relatable, and at times impressive. Annie's fickle moods are a curiosity and a terror in themselves; she deserves to be on all the villain toplists for depth and depravity both.

As should be expected from an author famous for their classic D&D art, the writing is very visual. It paints a clear picture of everything from honey to torture. The creature design is also wonderfully creepy. Brom's website includes art of his monstrous 'wildfolk' too - my favourite is the fish with the face of a child between its teeth.

The plot owes its bite to its human villain, Wallace. It was such a delight to hate that man that I had no choice but to root for Abitha. However, I was surprised to see 50% of the book remaining at the point I felt ready to round up.

Without a Wallace for the half of the plot surrounding 'Slewfoot's' identity crisis, it dragged. It also reminded me how horror films lose something when you see the whole monster. Perhaps that half would have felt more vital if it also involved Abitha (by some Pequot heritage? Since they

play a big role in the mystery of Samson

). As it was, I was checked out by the time the climactic

revenge fantasy

hit.

Still, this book does deliver well on both the chills and Good For Her/Support Women's Wrongs fronts. (Although, if ever there were a time for

monsterfucking

, surely this is it? You can't tell me there's not a draft out there somewhere with it.)

Perfectly fine way to spend an hour for unbigoted fans of the regency era. Nice to see a shade of depth added in the old money vs new money snobbery.

This is my Heartstopper. A sweet, feel-good queer romance with a dash of hockey. The T-rated version of all those thinly-veiled hockey RPF books. The rest of the team is charming too, especially Shitty. Tone was a little saccharine for my taste but I can't deny that Bittle's hesitancy over coming out to his parents made me get up and pace for a few minutes. Read it in a day.

I enjoy this book more for its science, philosophy, and sociology than its characters and story.

The near-future setting strikes a good balance between plausible, with its autonomous trading zones and megacorps, and sci-fi, with its .5-of-a-person AIs future humans find more convenient to partner than each other. The concept of uncovering a species of octopus capable of language is gripping, and the author takes it in different directions to similar stories like Arrival/This is the Story of Your Life. Humanity has abused marine life too much for the typical joy of first contact stories.

I had read before about the theory that octopuses think with their arms and was delighted to see Naylor run with this idea. Alongside more typical, though still thoughtful, discussion of whether the android character is truly conscious, the characters must grapple with various instances of an octopus-like distributed identity - one pilots a fleet of drones, one is a member of an enslaved fishing ship crew, one owns a company that has grown to make products she disapproves of, the core cast forms a small unit operating their research station and, ultimately, everyone must reckon with their role in and responsibility for, humanity's actions as a whole. Or at least, how the octopi see it. I was surprised to find a strong thread of the need to care for the rest of your little (or large) distributed identity too, and expressed in a way quite devoid of cheesiness too.

The story itself has characters who are relatable (in theory, at least) and interesting twists but I was unable to buy those characters as fully fledged people and the pace was just too slow for my taste. The entire slave fishing ship narrative should have been stripped out in my opinion, perhaps relegated to a companion novella or released on a blog or something. Its themes resonated with the whole but it didn't contribute anything vital to the plot.

Would love to read the fictional popular science book on octopus intelligence quoted at the start of each chapter though - I'm off to check if this author writes nonfiction.

If Family Man was my favourite volume focused on a single story, Tainted Love is the best of Hellblazer in its single-issues and mini-arcs. Also possibly the most likely to anger conservatives and Christians (saying a lot since the previous issue featured British royalty demon-possessed and in BSDM gear).

Hard to believe in just one volume we got:

The redux of Constantine at his lowest,

homeless, alcoholic, and suicidal

was a little underwhelming since we've been here before but the last time he got this bad was under Delano's pen so I don't hold it against Ennis too hard for having a go. 

BIG fan of the way the

First of the Fallen

's cameo at the end whets the appetite for the next volume presumably going back to the consequences of Constantine's three-way deal.