Critique

As the sequel to Eon, it’s interesting that the two books are not very like each other. Eon is far more about the politics of the court, and Eona’s struggle with her new found power. Eona is really more of a long, straightforward story about the war the main characters suddenly find themselves thrust into. Little of it involves the fantasy and power of the dragons, and I certainly would have loved to see more, but, all in all, the narrative kept me interested from beginning to end.

Critique

At first I didn’t know what to think about this book. I was teetering a bit at the beginning, and it felt difficult to follow from time to time. However, as the book continued to unveil, I stumbled less and less and was able to lose myself in the story. Some of the confusion may have stemmed from my lack of knowledge about the Imperial China, but I do feel as though the text could have used a bit more scenery description so that the full breadth of the environment could be taken in. Also, I don’t typically recommend drawings in books, but it would have been incredibly illuminating to see depictions of the various fighting forms being used in order to imagine the fight scenes.

All in all, though, it’s an engaging, original fantasy that’s part historical China and part something of its own entirely. Eon is a believable character, so much so, in fact, that often I found it annoying that she was making choices natural to her personality that were shaping her future in detrimental ways. No criticism of Goodman’s work, certainly. Sometimes characters are like that, and as much as we want them to be different for their own good, they’ll continue making ridiculous choices that mire them further into the very mess form which they’re struggling to break free. I recommend this text to readers 12+.

The other book in this series is Eona.

Critique

Unlike many of the books I read and review in the young adult arena, I was not able to skip through this text quickly. I found myself reading a few chapters and then pondering on the implications of the text and the honesty it forced me to face in my own life. Marcelo has this way of relating experiences in their most simplistic form, breaking things down from the complexity that we often try to shroud our interaction and thought process with in order to pursue negative and destructive behavior that we ultimately know is wrong and bad for us and others.

It caused me to question why we interact with each other in certain ways, and what prohibits us from being living in honesty and decency. It reminds me of many of the conversations I have around ‘sharing’ music, a term we use to defend something that it, in reality, is nothing but stealing. We have many methods we use to doublespeak ourselves into believing that this kind of behavior in all aspects of our lives is not only ‘ok’ but should actually be ‘encouraged.’ Through our selfishness, we create our own systems of misery and suffering, and I believe that a character like Marcelo has the capability to help us refocus and put it all back into perspective—cause and effect, action and consequence.

As for the story itself, it’s beautifully written, and I enjoyed every last word. It reads as if Stork truly took the time to create a rich, engaging, and educational experience for his audience. It’s been several days since I’ve finished, and although I’m in the midst of other books, this text has stuck with me as I continue to process through my priorities and the way I live my life in general. Marcelo is a believable character who goes through a painful transition and an arc that is riddled with sadness and joy. I think, in many ways, his journey helps to remind us that the ‘real world’ is more complicated than we’d like it to be, but that we often create that drama for ourselves. I recommend this to all readers 13+.

Critique

Being as this is such a great classic of literature, both for children and adults, I don’t add that much value by reviewing it and recommending it. However, I thought it would be fun to post something so much older in the midst of my reviews for books published recently. This is my attempt to say, “Don’t forget about me” for the old books that still have a lot of value.

In many ways, the reason that The Hobbit is such a popular book that has stood the test of time is Tolkein’s attention to detail and story. The world of Middle Earth feels tangible, and I would state outright that most of the fantasy books out nowadays are either rehashes of Tolkein’s world, or just action-driven stories that don’t take the time to delve into the setting, characters, or story with much depth. They’re fun reads, but nothing that will prompt any intellectual thought or multiple reads. Comparing books to food, The Hobbit is like a filet mignon while many of these recent books are more like a fast food cheeseburger. Both are meat, technically, but the filet is a much more satisfying meal even though it takes longer to make and eat.

Critique

This novel was surprisingly good, not that I was expecting less, but more that I wasn’t sure what to expect at all. The overall premise of the book doesn’t really do the actual story justice. I love how Thompson has woven together Ireland’s past and present, the ancient, tribal, mythological version of the nation with the present, Christian-influenced nation we see today.

Although Thomson lifted the core of her fantasy from Irish mythology, I still feel this is an original fantasy because it’s rare that we get to see fantasies using Irish mythology. We see a lot of Norse and Austro-Hungarian myth, with elves, dragons, dwarves, as well as Greek and Roman, but it’s rare that we get a taste of Irish mythology, which is characteristically different, both in its creatures and the world in which they live.

What I found most interesting was the correlation that Thompson makes between the Irish mythology, which is treated as fact in the text, and the Irish culture. The music is thought to have come from the fairies, and when J.J. discovers the world of the fairies, who are actually much more like humans than our traditional view of fairies, he discovers that time never passes in their land, so they have no fear or worry about anything. Thompson’s theory spoken through the text creates a connection between the Irish people and their love for music, beer, dancing and general merriment with their mythology.

It’s a fun take on Ireland’s past and present, but, in a way, it may not be too far off. Even though they may not have actually gotten their music from fairies, there are theories about how cultures and languages emerge. The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis works off of the belief that a culture’s language is formed out of its surroundings, thus why the Eskimos would have 30+ words for snow. There may be some credence to why Ireland and the Gaelic people have been historically very different from the rest of the people’s of Europe—why they’ve valued music and merriment, relationships and family over conquering other lands or industrial progress. Perhaps Thompson’s theory is correct, and the Irish music does come from the immortals who live in Tír na n’Óg, the land of eternal youth.

I highly recommend this book to all readers 11+.

Critique

There is no question that this is a fast-paced, fun novel with an original fantasy that incorporates well both the light and dark sides of the magic. Personally, I’m always a fan of original fantasies that are done well. Specifically, that means that the fantasy itself has never been done before, the world itself is unique, and the magic must be explained properly with the proper guidance and rules. Like anything in nature, magic will also follow a set of organic guidelines or it won’t really make sense to the reader.

Hardy has given us all the necessary elements for a good original fantasy. The rules are clear, the characters themselves must choose between the evil and good sides of what the magic is capable of, and the world itself is unique to the type of fantasy she’s exploring. However, although I did enjoy it thoroughly, I have a few small qualms about the story overall. First, there is a lot of willing suspension of disbelief in regards to what the characters are able to accomplish. It creates great fast-paced action, but sometimes it’s almost a little too over the top.

Also, Hardy sets us up for a second book, but it’s a little too neatly wrapped up. Nya is going to take on the Duke all alone, which is unfortunate that she has such a clear vendetta. I think it would be more interesting if Hardy left it more open ended, and we were to find Nya and Tali in hiding at the beginning of the next book and watch as they have to navigate a myriad of difficult circumstances as they continue to explore the original world that Hardy has created.

Lastly, and this is perhaps my own personal issue. It’s difficult to materialize what the world looks like, not just the specific scenes that Nya finds herself in, but the world as a whole. I have a hard time picturing the landscape, the geography and layout of the land. I can’t seem to imagine how the buildings appear or the relative size of the city. Also, it would be an amazing help to have the world on a map. That seems like a pretty standard thing to do with original fantasy worlds and stories.

However, despite some of the minor flaws, I really enjoyed this new fantasy that delves into the prospect of using healing powers for evil or good. I recommend this book to all readers 11+.

This is the first in the series, so far, and I look forward to the rest of the books.

Critique

Basye has created not only a clever and witty book, but it’s also an interesting take on the historical references for hell. There are many pop culture references, and it would be laugh out loud funny in many parts if you as the reader didn’t also feel like you were stuck in this terrible place called Heck. Ultimately, though, I was a bit disappointed in the story because it never really grabbed me as a reader, and although there are a plethora of imaginative characters and circumstances, they often go by too quickly and don’t give enough description or connection to the scene to make it feel palatable. 

The other books in the series so far are Rapacia-The Second Circle of Heck (book 2).

Critique

This is a cute, fun book and a quick read that seems to give a shout out to some of the past children’s books that were popular half a century ago. It’s simple, but a highly enjoyable story that expands a generally unknown Norse Myth and truly pulls the reader into the history and the fantasy of the Scandinavian countries. In my opinion, even though it’s definitely more of a children’s book than something that would be considered middle reader or young adult, the text transcends age boundaries because of some of the larger tensions that are created and Odd being such a clever main character. I recommend this book to all readers who love fantasy or Gaiman, but it’s definitely for readers 8-10 years old.

Critique

First off, I know one ought not to judge a book by the cover, but how could I not be interested in a book called Going Bovine with a standing cow holding a garden gnome? Also, I would say that the story is not entirely what I expected it to be, but considering the description, a story like this could be just about anything. Seriously though, punk rock angel with pink wings, blobby fire demon things that destroy stuff, and a bad guy that takes the form of a knight with a space helmet. How can you not be surprised every few pages?

All that said, it was far more like an epic story such as The Odyssey or The Aeneid than I would have thought it to be. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Bray didn’t attempt to mirror something of epic legend through each of the scenarios throughout book. It does start out a bit slow, but once you get past the first 150 pages or so, it really picks up. Cameron is also not necessarily the character you would root for because of his lethargic outlook on life, but since he narrates it, you grow to love his sardonic inner dialogue. I actually laughed out loud a few times. I recommend this book to lovers of eccentric fantasies with a heavy helping of satire.

Critique

Anyone who knows Virgil’s The Aeneid will either love or hate Le Guin’s retelling of the life of Lavinia as it intersects Aeneas’s story. Le Guin, as always presents a tale replete with layers of conflict and underlying social commentary. Some of the most obvious is the masculine and feminine roles, the duties of a ruler to her/his people, the view of women as property and powerless, the tragedies of war, and, oddly, the inner conflict of homosexuals in a heterosexually dominated culture. Whether these elements will be endearing to lovers of Virgil’s story, or if this will be seen as a good edition to the overall telling of Aeneas’s tale is left to be seen. 

However, for those not caught up in this as an extension of Virgil, the story actually has legs of its own. Many reviewers have said that it’s not one of Le Guin’s best, but I beg to differ. The same was said about C.S. Lewis’s retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche in Til We Have Faces, although Lewis is quoted as having considered it his greatest work, and I feel much the same way about this novel. It takes a lot of work and effort to get the history correct, and not only that, but Le Guin spends great lengths describing everything about the culture and time period—clothes, food, rituals, architecture, gender interplay, landscape, and much more—so that the reader can imagine every last detail of each scene. The early Latin culture becomes illuminated so that the story itself can live in an accurately detailed world. 

My guess is that since there is no magic in this story, outside of some prophesies and allusions to the intervention of the gods, people who love Le Guin’s usual writing couldn’t quite get into this one. However, I believe that it will stand the test of time as one of her greatest works, and hopefully it will be seen as an addition to Virgil’s great epic. Le Guin herself reveals her love for The Aeneid in the afterword, pining after the days when people were still taught Latin as part of their education, so that they could be enriched by the words of Virgil. She insists that people will not be able to understand the full beauty and magnitude of the work unless they read it in the original Latin.