Review: From Lukov with Love

From Lukov with Love by Mariana Zapata
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is my first Mariana Zapata, but I went into it with 100% knowledge of her shtick (sloooooooow burn, no sex til the literal last minute, etc). I'm not sure if that's what left me feeling completely underwhelmed by this.

The story was certainly good enough, the banter was great, but I didn't see any real reason for it to be even half as long as it wound up being. I do love a good slow burn, but for me, the real tension of that, despite the constant bickering between Jasmine and Ivan, didn't lend any real credence to their eventual coming together. You expect it to be like a literal dam breaking after five hundred pages and this was kind of like.......a minor but annoying drip from your kitchen faucet? I don't know. There was just no real payoff, and I am thinking that's because I was never fully invested in their relationship.

Ivan was sweet, and it was obvious early on that he wasn't who Jasmine thought he was, but then again, he wasn't really that bad to begin with? It was very much a high-school (or grade-school, even) tit-for-tat relationship between them, and that was a bit odd given that they are in their early thirties/late twenties, respectively. That's not to say that they're "too old" to act a certain way (you're never too old to act however you want, IMO), but it was just so petty (you're ugly, you're dumb, blah blah blah) that it never really felt like they actually hated each other, and certainly didn't hate each other enough to justify five hundred pages of back and forth for one page of mediocre sex. They'd already seen each other naked at that point, so outside of a few "oh fuck, ugh...." there was nothing to shake a vibrator at there. This scene was like a two-pump-chump in book form.

Eh....I guess I'm having a hard time putting my feelings into words on this because I don't really have any feelings on it to begin with. It was just so meh. Competently written, sure, in spite of all the typos and garbled speech, and some of the insults were truly choice, but all in all I found myself more bored than engrossed, and the only reason I read it so fast was so I could move on to something that gave me the tingles, a la "The Hating Game" or "The Folk of the Air" books.

So, first Mariana Zapata, and most likely last, because though I spend an inordinate amount of time torturing myself over nothing, even I'm not enough of a sadist to continually read books that are overly long and don't even give you anything to look forward to at the end.

View all my reviews

Review: Aurora's End

Aurora's End by Amie Kaufman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The last books in trilogies are double-edged swords - I'm waiting for them with baited breath at the same time that I'm dreading the end of something I love.

And I did love this. Sure, the ending wound up being treacly as shit (love is the answer?) but all that stuff with Auri and her Dad got me right in the feels. I lost my father earlier this year, and if he was still here I'm not sure it would have hit me as hard as it did. As it is, all I could keep thinking about was all the things I never said to him, all the things I did say and regretted, and just watching Aurora come to terms with the same thing just hit home.

That really has nothing to do with the story itself, it was just personally poignant, so it brings a new dimension of enjoyment, outside of the surface stuff.

That said, the story is great. I can really appreciate authors who have a definite, overarching vision that have the control and the talent to plot it out over three full books. It's impressive, and I'm impressed that they pulled it off the way they did. Normally I hate a time-travel trope because all too often it winds up just feeling lazy and venturing into revisionist territory (a la HP and the Cursed Child) but it doesn't feel entirely cheap here, mostly because the strength of the characters and the squad transcend it.

The squad is the real gem, of course, and the literal glue that holds the story together. I've often referred to this series as Six of Crows, but in space, and I'll die on that hill.

Good Stuff:
- Zila's growth. She was almost a non-entity and book 1, and to see her literally come full circle like this was really fulfilling.
- Fin - Never change, baby. I restarted the series on audibook right after finishing this and I just love his perspective. He's entertaining and heartbreaking in the same breath.

Meh Stuff:
- I can't believe I'm saying this about a book Jay Kristoff is at least partially responsible for, but with stakes as high as this, I feel like more people should have died? I feel like it would have been braver to have Auri actually have to give up her life, and instead she kind of pulled a Harry Potter. Not that I wasn't entertained and interested, but I felt like the more intriguing choice would have been to have her die and see how Kal handles it after, given the whole Be'shmai thing. It's almost like happy endings are a given, and that sort of takes the excitement out of it when you know it's gonna end up okay despite all the suffering in the moment.
- Love was the answer? Reeeallllllllllly? Okay, I cried, because I'm weak and a total sap, but why is love always the answer??
- Why why why do we have to neatly pair up everybody at the end of the book/movie/show? It is okay to be alone, you know.

View all my reviews

Review: Death

Death by Laura Thalassa
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

There's a reason I mainly stick to Goodreads when it comes to reviews and I keep my mouth shut on Reddit and/or Facebook groups - it's because I don't want to post a negative opinion of a book and be accused of book shaming. They're NOT the same thing, but humans, in their infinite wisdom and sensitivity, often conflate the two, because god forbid someone not like something and actually say so.

I did not like this book. I did not think it was a good book. I did not like any of the books in this series and in fact did not think any of them were good. That does not mean I think Laura Thalassa is a horrible person or that anyone who likes these books is horrible.

Now that that's out of the way....Yah, I really hated this book. I hated this series. I do not think my hate would be nearly at the level it is if I didn't enjoy Laura Thalassa's Bargainer series as much as I did (it's phenomenal, and a much more satisfying depiction of a dark Fae romance...and Desmond beats Rhys and his pseudo-feminism any day of the week) I wouldn't have been so disappointed in this book and the series as a whole.

Where the Bargainer series was engaging, with well fleshed out characters, and engaging relationships and plots, the Four Horseman is like all concept and idea and literally nothing else. Nothing. The characters are boring. The relationships are boring. The plot is boring, and who ever thought the apocalypse would be boring? I mean, the world is ending, and there's so much you can do with that, but I'm supposed to care only about these two shmucks that barely know each other yet somehow are sooooo in love?

Death was 519 pages (!!!) and nothing happened. Nothing. They meet, people die, they kill each other a few times, there's a random kidnapping by some random desert bandits that lasts maybe two paragraphs before resolution, she finds a baby, and then there's the requisite end-of-series fight, and that's kind of it.

Oh yeah, and there's lots of sex, which normally I enjoy (and which in the Bargainer series was top-shelf) but here it's just like lots of talk about her sore pussy because THEY BANG SO MUCH. And oh yeah, lots of cheese plates prepared by magical skeleton servants. I shit you not.

The strongest, most cogent thought I have about this series, the one overarching opinion I have on the whole thing, is that it's an amazing concept poorly executed. It pains me so much to say this, but I got the very strong impression that Thalassa was so damned determined to write this series (because let's be honest, the concept is fucking cool) but she never thought too much about what she actually wanted to happen. It's just fluff (cheese plates!) and fucking, and not much else. I'm not book shaming when I say that I feel like this series was just lazily written, because it's true.

I am glad that this book is over. I think I deserve an award for finishing it. These 519 pages were a longer slog than the half-marathon I ran that time. I am glad that this series is over (so I don't feel obligated to read any others), and despite how much I disliked it, I am still looking forward to reading the rest of Thalassa's past (and future) catalog, because with a gem like the Bargainer under her belt, I know it can't be all bad.

I would not recommend this book, unless a story of a mindless journey punctuated by random bouts of sex is your thang. And if it is, no shame, and you do you, and I'm so happy you enjoyed it because feeling like you wasted your time on something is never a fun feeling.

View all my reviews

Review: It Ends in Fire

It Ends in Fire by Andrew Shvarts
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

I think forgetting that you actually started something is just as good a reason as any to not actually finish it.

I had super-high hopes for this, because the concept not only seemed freaking cool, but the cover art was bomb (I knooooow don't judge me) and I'm a huge Choices app fan, which this author also writes for.

The major turn-off for this book was that it seemed more concerned with being a massive middle finger to JK Rowling and her terfism than it did with actually being an interesting and engaging story. And honestly, following Andrew Shvarts's Twitter feed, especially in the immediate aftermath of JKR's grand coming out as anti-trans, it's obvious that he was gunning for her and really wanting to stick it to her big time. Not saying it's not justified, but if you're gonna come for somebody, best come prepared with your big guns. This book is not a big gun. It's a slingshot. With a teeny tiny pebble in it.

Lest you think I'm being petty, it's conversations like the one in Chapter 5 where Alka's sexual preferences are trotted out with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer through balsa wood that make it uncomfortably obvious. I have no issues with bisexuality or homosexuality in books (I grew up reading and loving Anne Rice, ffs, though when I'm reading romance I prefer strictly the cis/hetero variety since I'm a self-inserter), but knowing that JKR caught major heat for revealing Dumbledore's secret homosexuality after the fact, and otherwise not having any overtly non-cis/hetero relationships in the series, I could practically see the gears turning in the author's head that boy oh boy, is he gonna show JKR how it's done in the 21st century. It just came off as so juvenile.

Say what you want about JKR, her terfism (I'm still not able to reconcile it with the fact that she is otherwise so publicly supportive of minority causes), her obvious homophobic tendencies (because unless you put it up on a billboard, tweet it for the world to see, or publish it in size 42 font, it's a total lie and you're pandering), but she can write, she can construct plot, and drive narrative like it is literally nobody's business. I could sit here and say til I'm blue in the face that Dumbledore's sexuality was not central to the story so why bother mentioning it (but once you find out it's so interesting to see all the other mentions of history and past click into place, which makes it obvious that, yes, she wrote him as gay the entire time), but I'd be wasting my breath, to be frank. I'm not defending her, mind you, because that does need to be mentioned, but there is a definite trend of people being unwilling to see in anything other than black and white so it's not really worth explaining.

I guess what I'm really trying to get at is that if you're going to set out to write a wizard school opus that is more inclusive and open and modern and in obvious answer to she-who-will-no-longer-be-named, then please write something better than this. Overall I found it boring, derivative, and painfully unnuanced. JKR might be a terf, but she's a terf that knows how to write and craft an engaging story. I wasn't a fan of the Simon Snow stuff, but I can acknowledge that it did things the right way (i.e. Simon was just Simon who loved Baz and not SIMON WHO IS VERY OBVIOUSLY AND OPENLY GAY).

There's better stuff out there if you're looking for something inclusive with a magical bent.

View all my reviews

Review: Second First Impressions

Second First Impressions by Sally Thorne
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

So so so good. I might cry over it. No wait, I am crying over it. Full thoughts later, when I’m not crying.

------------------

So, I just finished a "re-read" over audiobook, and yeah I cried again. I'm a sadist I think, and I punish myself by obsessing over books like this. I identify with them so strongly, and it's painful to rehash old feelings while at the same time comforting knowing you're not alone.

For me, there are two sides to the "I love reading" coin - I live to lose myself in books, but I know I live to find myself in them too. It might seem counterintuitive to want to essentially re-hash painful experiences and memories via books, but they've always given me hope, thanks to the gift of the HEA (at least with regards to romance). They give me hope, and they give me perspective, because it's a lot easier to examine your feelings through the lens of someone else's life as opposed to confronting your own bullshit head on.

I had a life a lot like Ruthie's - lonely, conservative, crushed under the weight of ideas ground into me from outside forces (mostly family). I was painfully shy, down on myself, terrified of change and seeking solace in the familiar. I was physically incapable of branching out beyond my comfort zone but desperate to know what it was like to do so. I distinctly remember times in my past when guys showed interest in me, but my low self-esteem and fear of the unfamiliar never allowed me to believe it could be sincere or possible. I kick myself now wondering what my life would have been like if I'd only had the courage to take those steps on my own, or to just allow myself to believe that I was worthy of someone else's attention. I know any number of self-help books will tell you not to depend on validation from outside sources and to love yourself first, but I think it's counterintuitive to human nature, at least for those that prefer romantic and/or physical/sexual relationships with other people. It's okay to want someone else to tell you you're beautiful, but what is bad is allowing your entire sense of self-worth depend on that.

What would I have done then if a guy like Teddy fell into my lap? Probably exactly what Ruthie did - look forward to being around him while at the same time pushing him away because why would anyone see plain old me as anything other than an acquaintance? I'd set myself up for failure, I'd take compliments as jokes, and I'd repeatedly convince myself that his interest belied some sort of nefarious ulterior motive. Ultimately I'd have missed out on someone wonderful. I read this book and wondered how many wonderful people I actually did miss out on, just because I hated myself so thoroughly that I never believed anyone could ever care about me in that way. The more stereotypically good-looking someone was (like Teddy) the worse it was, because there was literally no way my brain could ever convince myself that someone like that could stand to look beyond my (not-up-to-societal-beauty-norms) physical appearance to see all the non-obvious qualities about myself that I actually did know were worth appreciating. I never let anyone get close enough to really know and appreciate me as a result.

I didn't really have a Melanie to push me out there and do the whole makeover thing, but I did have people whispering positive reinforcement in my ears (after some accidental weight loss) that I made an effort to change myself and put myself out there. I met people, sure, but it was a façade, a lot like Melanie's re-imagining of Ruthie would have been, because they still weren't really seeing who I felt like I was on the inside. They were seeing what I was being told I had to present to the world in order to be worthy of someone's attention. How many Teddys did I have in my life without even knowing it? How many people saw me as sublime, exactly as I was, without realizing it? I cry thinking about it. I cry thinking about all of those missed opportunities, and I cry for the years I spent convincing myself I was unworthy or that I had to change in order to be worthy of being loved. It's time I will NEVER get back, and it hurts to be reminded of it.

So while Melanie was well-intentioned, ultimately her "Method" did more harm to Ruthie than good, and I was so put off by her constant reminders to Ruthie that Teddy wasn't her type, and that Ruthie needed someone like her. She was essentially my inner voice, and Ruthie's inner voice, personified, because how could someone so vibrant ever be sincerely interested in someone so bland? It's a crappy thing to do to someone you'd consider a friend, and I hope in imaginary book land, Melanie took that out of her Sasaki Method manuscript before sending it to publishers. She did good in convincing Ruthie to value herself more, to learn to take compliments, but she failed in telling her that she needed to look a certain way in order to do so. Stuff like that permanently damages a person, and not everyone in real life has a Teddy available to give themselves an HEA.

(I want to make an aside here to say that, outside of some mentions of Ruthie's rack, there's very little mention of what she really looks like or what her body type is. Romance writers are overly guilty of "She's All That" levels of making FMC's atypically attractive. There's nothing I hate more than a character we're supposed to believe is a Plain Jane type mentioning her own "flat stomach" or "tiny waist", especially when it's in her own voice. It's a subtle knife in the back of the reading populace, and I've felt it twisting in my own, telling me that while I can identify with this character on some level, I can't get tooooo close; in essence, while I might find an always physically perfect man to love me in spite of my personality quirks or the fact that I dress like an 80-year old woman, I still better have the proportions of a Barbie doll if I want to be worthy of his attention. As much as my cynical ass still tries to convince myself it can never happen, I'm so glad Sally Thorne didn't do that and left it up to the reader, because you really do get the sense that Teddy loves her as a whole, and conversely it allows reader like myself who like to self-insert to believe that it can really happen to you, which is ultimately what I think the goal of every romance book ever written is.)

So in summary, I love this book in spite of its ability to cause me to relive negative experiences, not because it tells me that I will eventually find my very own Prince Charming (I'm married now, fyi, and he's nothing like Teddy) but because it reassures me even today that maybe other people do see in me what I'm incapable (even after all this time) of seeing in myself. It helps when I try to beat myself up for missing a workout, wearing the jeans instead of the dress, bemoan my flabby stomach, or want to have a no makeup day. That right there is the power of books, and the power of this book in particular, and I'm eternally grateful to Sally Thorne for going there.

View all my reviews