Salisbury.Fake book review

Atonement by Ian McEwan

“It wasn’t only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you.”

I had this book sitting on my “I’ve read this” shelf and recently went looking for something else when I spotted it. It sat on my “I haven’t read this” shelf for a while because I knew the story already. I’m a big, big fan of the film adaptation of this book, and from the synopsis, it followed the story pretty accurately.

I was not prepared for how deeply beautiful this book is. In the beginning, it’s told from the perspective of a thirteen-year-old girl who misunderstands something she sees out a window. A few more things happen within the space of an afternoon and evening, and as a result of her incorrect assumptions, lives are shifted into irreversible directions.

The film follows the book nearly scene for scene, which I felt incredibly kind of Hollywood. The story is rather important in all its moving parts, as most are, but with something so delicately perched on the bevel of catastrophe, anything left out would render the whole thing meaningless.

In reading some of the reviews, there were several people bothered by the fact the main character, Briony, doesn’t seem to “grow up” over the course of the book. This mainly stems from how she interrupts the rape of her cousin, and because of her false accusations sends an innocent family friend to prison.

The book stays mainly in Briony’s perspective, so we see her grow into a young adult at the precipice of a country at war. She doesn’t take her place at Cambridge, and goes into nursing–like the sister who fled the family on the arrest of the family friend. Briony comments on knowing she was wrong in her youth, and several of the reviewers were upset the rape isn’t discussed past a certain point.

My response to that is why would Briony talk about something that didn’t happen to her? I don’t mean that to sound callous, but as someone who’s experienced sexual violence, I don’t really find it pleasant to discuss. I don’t think the few people who know the situation sit around and talk about it amongst themselves either, so placing a responsibility on the main character to go into such an experience feels a little beside the point. She does eventually attend her cousin’s wedding, and it’s revealed her cousin marries the man who raped her (very much not the family friend). That and a few things Briony says at the end of the book are the only time it’s really mentioned again.

I don’t find it her responsibility to process such an event. McEwan could have written Lola’s perspective into the book, but she wasn’t a main character, and so having her show up to think/talk about her experience would have disjointed the story entirely.

The other thing people commented on was how the whole situation wasn’t important enough for a book. To that, I say, they missed the point. No one wants to read about a wealthy family crumbling because of misplaced accusations and a war. Not truly. But the depth of perspective we get from Briony shows us how penance cannot be achieved perfectly. By the end of the book, she is an old woman and discussing her regrets, so to speak, and what I love so much about it is the vast scope of her understanding, and the pain she has at not having her sister in her life.

I know my opinions are not the right ones. But they are mine, and I see Briony as faulted, someone who caused tragedy and bore the weight of that tragedy the rest of her life. Some would say rightfully so, but I feel like those people forget what it was to be thirteen and not understand the world the way we see it as an adult. We know right from wrong, but if we don’t know the reason or the why for something, it’s hard to articulate the responsibility.

9/10 stars

*******I read the First Anchor Books 2003 paperback edition*******

Salisbury.Fake book review, Life

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

“You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridescent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You’ll care only about the darkness and you’ll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you’re some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay.”

Johnny Truant, October 31, 1998 (House of Leaves introduction, page xxiii)

I’m going to start out by saying this book is not for everyone and I don’t think it was meant to be. It’s meant for those who need it most. I was recommended it years and years ago by one of my very good friends, and I just never got around to finding it. It is a book that must be found. It is, without hesitation, my new favorite book of all time.

Let me explain.

House of Leaves is a story within a story within a story. It begins with an introduction by Johnny Truant, who finds this manuscript in the apartment of a dead man. He then becomes obsessed with the story of a family who moved into a house with bigger dimensions on the inside than were possible. But is it his obsession or is it the dead man’s? Zampano, the writer of the manuscript, has his own story, and through Johnny’s footnotes, we get a glimpse of what Zampano’s life was before he died. So, we have the story Zampano wrote–which by all appearances is an academic treatment of the mysterious film/photographer William Navidson–and we have Zampano’s story told to us in pieces by Johnny, and then we have Johnny’s story included in pages long footnotes at times.

The beauty of this book is you become part of the story. You are shoved into your own obsession with the Navidson brothers as they try to explain this house that cannot be explained. It’s a psychological horror of which I’ve never seen before, and it takes you on a circular journey of your own past as you work through the mysteries with Navidson. Not only that, you are given insight into a very tragic character in Johnny Truant. I think I felt a platonic love for him by the end of the book because of his story, all of which I cannot verify if it was real or not. And by that I mean within the confines of the story. Was he telling me the truth or was it drug addled nonsense? Either way, I wept for Johnny at several moments.

I would like to go further into the symbolism of the house, but I feel like that trudges into spoiler territory, so if you’d rather not have spoilers, please skip away from the page.

The house is a pleasant enough place at first, set up in the middle of nowhere, Maryland. Inside the house, the family consists of Will, known as Navy, Karen, and their two children. The children each have their own rooms, and then Will and Karen have their room, and as all beginnings are, this is a hopeful place. A place of renewal.

A hallway appears first, connecting the bedrooms upstairs, creating a void of light. And then the door arrives in the living room, the door on the outside wall. When the door is opened, another hallway is revealed, and throughout the course of the story, Navidson ends up exploring it with his brother and one of his friends.

To me, the entire book from Zampano, to Johnny, and even the Navidson crew, it’s not about the house. It’s about the ways we try to keep ourselves hidden from those we love most. Those who would know when something is wrong just by looking at us. It’s about knowing oneself so painfully well that every interaction with a new person will go nowhere because we know we aren’t going to meet their expectations.

It’s grief.

It’s encompassing fear of the unknown.

It’s love.

I feel like I’m not giving the words justice. I feel like I’m not explaining just how deep of an impact this book had on me. Saying it’s my new favorite book of all time feels dramatic, like I’m making bold claims after only having read it once, and it’s a book that almost requires multiple reads. It’s formatted like someone went after it with a hammer and super glue, bending pages to fit into whatever origami felt right at the moment. There are footnotes within footnotes. Some of the text is backwards. Some pages only have two words, some have one. Entire spaces are condensed into a haphazard mess of black Xs across red strikethrough.

It is chaos, just as the house is chaos.

And yet, it’s home.

*******I read the 2000 Random House full color remastered paperback edition*******

Salisbury.Fake book review, Life

Here I Am by Jonathan Safran Foer

Who am I? I asked myself this question immediately following the finishing of this book and I feel like if Foer knew that, he’d either be pleased or he’d find me pretentious. But I didn’t ask it out of anything other than a gut reaction to the book ending. Foer is able to wield emotion like a sword, but with enough subtlety that it hits you after you’ve gone by a few pages, and you have to pause and sit in the feeling for a moment before you can go forward. It took me a bit to get into this book. I honestly didn’t remember why I picked it up (it’s got a sticker from the bargain bin on the back, so that’s the most likely reason, and I know I like his writing style, so I solved my own mystery), and as I read about the marriage of Jacob and Julia, I questioned even more why I grabbed it. It was about a loveless marriage, but also a marriage full of too much love. The kind of love you think is stagnant, but is actually hiding behind hurt. Unspeakable only because to voice the hurt would make it known to those who haven’t hurt you, but those you love and you don’t want to show them your vulnerability.

That kind of love is my favorite. And as I was slowly absorbed into the unfolding of this marriage, the explosion of a worldwide crisis of possible war, the outlook on Jewish people by the rest of the world, it all settles together in such a way you forget you’re reading about something heartbreaking. I think love is the entire theme of the whole book. There’s familial, romantic, platonic–it’s all in there. It’s the love that hurts, but the impermanence of pain is what draws me to it. It’s the understanding that while what I feel might be in the realm of anguish, it is not forever and I will be okay.

I told a friend of mine about some of this, my reaction to the book. But it was 3 a.m. and I’d had to read a brain numbing romance novel to get my head to calm down (seriously, all those people need to do is talk to each other. The lack of common sense and communication in those books is astonishing, but then I realize it’s real life in a way we aren’t ready to admit to, which I also know sounds like the opposite of calming my brain down). A sense of yearning took over, and I was filled with wanting. To be enough, to be wanted. And the part that makes my heart break is I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to accept that I am already good enough. I am wanted. Just as I am. It causes an ache in my ribs. When I breathe. I inhale, almost like when I run, and the life that fills me also takes my breath away.

The last time I wrote in my physical journal, I started a list of resolutions and I will expand on it offline. I know you might be wondering why this has anything to do with the book of this post, but I’ll get there. A person I follow on YouTube was talking in a recent video about how she calls resolutions her “intentions.” What does she intend for herself? The start of a new year, the reset, the fresh feeling. Some part of me that lingers in my self-hate is disgusted by the positivity of it.

But I think about a sunrise. A sunrise after walking all night, being so stuck in my head, unable to fully see even though all I’ve been doing is looking.

The sky lightens, letting the earth know what’s coming, but it’s that first burst of bright. That explosion of color that scars the sky and yet whispers hello.

My hope lives there. In that moment, that crack of a new day. Flash in the pan, almost. It holds me, though. Gives me enough courage to approach life one day at a time until a year passes and I am no longer witnessing the sunrise, I am the sunrise.

That’s who I am. I am hope, burning across the morning dimness with a gasp of colors. I am not ending. I am beginning and I am afraid. Afraid of understanding. Afraid of seeing. Not of failure, because I’m not failing.

I am becoming.

And that’s what this book did for me. I don’t know that I would say Foer is my favorite author, but he writes in a way that helps the world make sense as I see it. While I’m not a middle-aged Jewish man, or his wife, or their three sons, I have felt at times what they have, and seeing emotions I know so well, written in a way that feels like I’ve been flayed while saying thank you is something I don’t know I’d get from anyone else.

I give this book an 8.5/10

*******I read the 2016 Farrar, Straus and Giroux hardback edition*******

Salisbury.Fake book review

January Book Dump

Okay, listen, I know I’m behind. I know, I know. I’ve decided to do a quick “hey, here’s what I read, maybe you’ll like it, too” post because while I could go through and review each of these individually, some of them are too short for a full post, and the others I don’t want to ramble as I’m wont to do.

Kicking things off here we have two books I received in a book subscription box probably almost five years ago and I started them but never finished them. So, I told myself not to let them sit unread on the shelf any longer, and wouldn’t you know it? In one, I only had ten pages left of it to read. Good job, past me. Fantastic work. Livin’ that dream.

Blue Fox by Sjon

This book follows a hunter on his trek to take down an elusive fox. The air is absolutely frigid, and the sun is harsh. It’s a stark, desolate sounding landscape, and yet there is life within. Sjon creates an atmosphere so well, one can almost see their breath while reading this book. It may sound trite and pretentious, but I thoroughly enjoyed the hubris of it all. A quick read if you don’t take five years to finish it.
******I read the 2008 Farrar, Straus, and Giroux paperback edition******

Gutshot by Amelia Gray

Another quick read, this is full of short stories, almost flash pieces (some are definitely not flash). When I first started reading it, I was enthralled by it. When I finished it, I was disturbed. This is not to say the writing is bad. It’s very unique and has a way of sticking into your brain after finishing one of the pieces. I felt like I’d witnessed something I probably shouldn’t have, and kept walking, left to ponder the choices I’ve made in my life to this point.
*******I read the 2015 Farrar, Straus, and Giroux paperback edition*******

So You Don’t Get Lost in the Neighborhood by Patrick Modiano

I found this book on a trip I took with my stepmom and I picked it up because the title was so intriguing. It’s translated from French, and sometimes I worry that the translations can miss the nuances of the original language (I’m lookin’ at you, Witcher books). What can be lyrical and absolutely beautiful in one language can sometimes be stilted and jarring in another. That is not the case for this book. I’m going to say it’s very French, something I have only my preconceived notions about what is “French” to back me up on, but it’s charming, somewhat dark, and left me wondering if I solved the mystery or if I just needed to enjoy the ride. It follows the story of a man trying to figure out a distant memory from his childhood, brought about by a mysterious man who shows up with a folder and a name. The name brings him back to memories he’d tucked away for later, maybe never again. It sets him on a small trail of wonder and intrigue. It’s a lovely told story. The ending is kind of unclear, but I also finished it when I was really tired, so that is probably on me.
*******I read the 2015 Houghton Mifflin Harcourt hardback edition*******

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

This book left me for dead. I know that sounds really dramatic and kind of problematic, but the amount of weeping I did after reading this is almost embarrassing. It is beautiful. It isn’t for everyone, but if you are ready for a look at sexuality, race, immigration, prejudice, a whole slew of things, please read this. So many moments in this are heart wrenching, but there is always this underlying hope. A potential for it to end well. It is stunning.

Written as a letter to the speaker’s mother, the young man tells the story of love and loss in such a way that leaves you breathless. It asks why, hypothesizes the answers, but then never fully commits to one, letting you work on it for yourself.
*******I read the 2021 Penguin paperback edition*******

Salisbury.Fake book review

Everyone Brave is Forgiven by Chris Cleave

Everyone Brave is Forgiven grabbed me by the title and I pulled it from the shelf without much other thought. From the cover, it looked like it was going to be about London during WWII, and I was correct, but I still put it on my to-read shelf and forgot about it. I don’t know if I’ve ever said so on here, but WWII is one of my favorite times to read about, fiction or not, and so I tend to gravitate toward those stories. So many of them are similar, and yet all of them are different. I find sometimes they can be a bit predictable, and while at times this book was to me, I still enjoyed what I read.

What I liked about this book the most was the main female character, Mary. She comes from an upper middle class family (fairly more well-to-do than a lot of people), and when mobilization begins, she decides to join up in the form of becoming a spy. Well, they don’t need her to be a spy, but they do send her to a school to be a teacher. She has no experience in this field, but she takes to it easily, loving the children instantly. She becomes a teacher right before the evacuations took place and children were sent to the countryside of England.

Mary befriends a black boy, Zachary, and she promises to write to him while he’s away. Racism is a theme in this book, and while Mary sees nothing wrong with being friends with Zachary (he’s a small child), her family and friends tell her she’s being impertinent and socially incorrect. There’s quite a bit of language used that made me uncomfortable, and I know it’s “how they talked at the time,” but it still gave me some pause as I read it.

Zachary is abused by the people in the country, and eventually he’s brought back to London where he goes back to school with Mary as his teacher. Mary has a unique talent for getting what she wants, and when her class is evacuated, the first thing she does is go to the man in charge of her district and asks for another class. He tells her there isn’t anyone to teach, but she points out those who were left behind for “difficult circumstances.” Sometimes Mary’s privilege shows when she can’t understand why certain things are done the way they are, but by the end of the story, she’s learned. Mary is vibrant, sarcastic, and determined. Her enthusiasm for doing what she believes to be right is never quite squashed by the bombs dropped on her city.

There is heartbreak and absolute tragedy throughout the story. Depictions of violence and some graphic details of war wounds and building devastation. It all adds up to a well told story that by the end of we are possibly just as tired as the characters. The few moments where I was dragged out of the story because of my stretch for belief were few, and hardly significant past the moments they were.

I give this book an 8/10.

*******I read the 2016 Simon and Schuster hardback edition*******

Salisbury.Fake book review, Life

The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg

Technically I haven’t finished reading this, but I reached the appendix and the notes, so I’m going to discuss my thoughts on this book today. When I picked this up, it was kind of on a whim. The title caught my eye at the store, and the yellow grabbed me, too. I’ve been struggling with personal habits lately, so I thought this would be an interesting perspective to read through. I was right. This book is incredibly readable. Typically when I grab non-fiction, I struggle to read it because it’s very factual and very thoroughly researched (hopefully, anyway). That’s not to say this isn’t well researched or full of facts, because it is that, but Duhigg approaches it from a reader perspective. Something I feel non-fiction writers tend to forget is how to appeal to readers of all genres and types. They get caught up in the truth they’re telling and the presentation is much like a lecture hall PowerPoint by someone at the end of their career and they’re waiting for retirement.

This is not the case for Duhigg. He starts with a story of a man with short term memory loss who can’t tell you where he lives, but he can go on a walk at 2 pm every day and still end up at home without knowing why. There are several intriguing studies presented throughout the book that made me realize I know very little about my own brain. He goes through how Febreeze became a household name, and how stores can predict your buying habits by going through your purchases when you scan your rewards cards. Something stores may not want put in the public eye, but while that’s creepy, it’s also incredibly fascinating.

The first part of the book focuses on individual habits, why we do what we do (which is the sub-title of the book). We create what’s called a “habit loop,” which consists of three parts: a cue, a routine, and a reward. As we receive the same cue, then follow the same routine, and expect the same reward, a habit is formed. This is true for negative habits, too, which makes sense because even though we don’t typically think of the negative outcomes as rewards, they become ingrained as part of the routine, so we follow them. Sometimes unwittingly.

I’m not saying this book has changed my life completely, because I still have habits I consider unhelpful to the person I want to be, but it’s certainly opened my mind to a new realm of understanding. One of the key factors in habit change is belief. Duhigg uses the coaching style of Tony Dungy to approach the topic of belief and he talks about how no matter what Dungy did, the teams would revert back to their old habits in times of stress simply because their belief in the new ways faltered. This is honestly the stage of change I struggle with the most.

This last year I’ve been trying to revamp my thought processes–before I read this book, even more so now–and the process has been almost excruciating. I’ve spent almost 2 decades hating myself, and trying to switch gears and think differently feels like an impossible thing. But that’s the thing about it all. It isn’t impossible because I’m doing it in small ways here and there. I’ve talked about how my depression manifests itself as dishes to wash and laundry I move from hamper to mattress back to hamper. Well it still does, but not as badly. My dishes are never more than a few days left unwashed, and I fold my laundry within a day of doing it. I don’t know specifically what changed my brain to do this, but somehow I’ve convinced my depressive side that this is unacceptable and there needs to be something different we do when I get caught up in my head for too long.

I think this book is worth a read if you’re interested in habits, but I don’t think it’s a book everyone should read. Some people are living their best lives and have no need to go this far into their own heads. I give this book an 8/10.

********I read the 2014 Randomhouse Trade Paperback edition*******

Salisbury.Fake book review

Wastelands: Stories of the Apocalypse, edited by John Joseph Adams

Hey. How’s it going? Doin’ all right? Weather’s getting nicer. Finally. Today we’re talking about a collection of stories I picked up as research for some of my own work, and eventually just read it for enjoyment. Everyone has an apocalypse theory. A reason for why the world will end. Plague, natural disaster, humanity eating itself. Endless possibilities. It’s difficult to write a review for a collection of stories as a whole book, so I’m going to give my thoughts on the ones that stood out to me. The big draws for this book are obviously Stephen King and George R. R. Martin, but only one of those big names had a story that stood out to me. So, let’s get in to it.

There are 22 stories in this collection, and I’m going to touch briefly on eight of them. These are the ones that I’d consider the better of the tales being told, but that’s not to say the others don’t have their merit. My preferences tend to be on the more emotional side, the more “hit in the feels” kind of storytelling. That said, the opener for this was Stephen King’s, and I felt nothing for it. He’s not someone I actively seek out to read, and that’s not me trying to say he’s a bad author. He has a massive fanbase, and my opinion is more like a bloop in the ocean. My first choice of story that stood out, hah, is:

Dark, Dark Were the Tunnels by George R. R. Martin
This story centers on Greel. Greel is a man. He’s what’s left of humanity on Earth after the apocalypse forced most others off the planet. But the others have come back. What happens is a misunderstanding of the new life on a radiation ravaged planet, where life began anew underground. It feels almost like a commentary on the differences between cultures being mistaken for aggression, and instead of waiting to figure out a compromise or a way to communicate, it escalates to fatal proportions. It does have an expected feel to it, where as reading it becomes fairly obvious what’s going to happen, but I still found myself thinking about it after I’d finished. One of the things I like about Martin’s style is his descriptions. He’s very good at showing exactly what he wants you to see. I give this story an 8/10.

Waiting for the Zephyr by Tobias S Buckell
Mara is the girl who knows there’s more to life than her small town offers, and this story is all about that hope. One of the shorter stories in the collection, that doesn’t take away from the power of that hope. This story deals with expectations of small town life (I say small town, but really it’s more like a spot of life in a desert), and the ambitions of someone not willing to be tied to that life. It’s written well, and Mara is memorable. I give this story a 9/10.

Never Despair by Jack McDevitt
Another short piece of the collection, this is almost on the same level of optimism as “Waiting for the Zephyr.” It follows Chaka as she goes in search of answers. The world’s ended, obviously, and she wants to find out more, to understand what happened to those who’d gone before. Chaka talks to a projection of Winston Churchill, and they have such a charming conversation. That may sound sarcastic, but I don’t mean it to be. It’s really almost like a granddaughter telling her grandfather about her day at school. It’s in this story that my favorite quote of the book can be found: “The turnings of history are never directed by crowds,” he said. “Nor by the cautious. Always, it is the lone captain who sets the course.” I give this story an 8/10.

Artie’s Angels by Catherine Wells
This is the first one that kind of made me sit back and contemplate life for a while. It’s about a rough neighborhood and turf wars (that’s my very basic level description, it’s more than that), and a hero trying to live out a dream. It’s got the desperation for something more than what the world is offering, the frustration at never being enough for that success, and just so much more to it. By the end, I wanted to spend time with the people who matter to me. To ease the loss of something that wasn’t real in the first place. I give this story a 9/10.

Inertia by Nancy Kress
Holy balls, this one knocked me backward. It was a bit predictable in some places, but by the end of it, I was ready to go to war and fight battles for people that didn’t exist. It’s the story of an old woman in a neighborhood cordoned off for being a colony of diseased people at the end of the world. There’s lots of talk of “before,” and there’s lots of talk of how to make life better for everyone inside the colony. The best line from this story is, “She cannot change the world. It’s too old, too entrenched, too vicious, too there. She will fail. There is no force stronger than destructive inertia.” I give this one an 8/10.

Speech Sounds by Octavia E Butler
I feel like when Adams was putting this collection together, he saved the best stories for last, because this one is almost perfect. It takes a look at the scenario almost like the Tower of Babel from the Bible, where language fails at the end of the world, so no one knows how to speak properly or really communicate well. Grunts and hand gestures mean different things to different people. There’s no real way to say what is meant. Except for the main character, Rye. She can speak, which is a rare thing and seen as dangerous. It’s something she keeps to herself. The story would be perfect if there weren’t a lag in the later quarter of it. I give this story a 9/10.

The End of the World As We Know It by Dale Bailey
This story is almost meta in the way it calls itself out for being a story about the end of the world. It approaches the topic from the point of view of a lone survivor of some mysterious thing that’s caused everyone to die. He roams the leftover world to find something of a purpose, and it’s just pure desolation. I like this one because it gives a bit of a different perspective on apocalypse stories while still being cliche at places. I give this one a 7/10.

A Song Before Sunset by David Grigg
In the whole collection, no story ever made me close the book and set it aside because of the despair the apocalypse usually brings. Until this one. I would have cried if I’d let myself think about it too much. It follows Parnell, a man who lives by himself in a rundown city. It’s rough, as these stories are, but for Parnell, he tries to hold onto the beautiful things. The books, the art, the music–all past things now essentially obsolete because no one has a need for beauty in a broken, dead world. Parnell finds a way to get into a concert hall where a grand piano is waiting on the stage for him. He used to be a pianist. He trades with a kind of “general store” merchant, the Tumbledown Woman, for tools to repair this piano. And he plays it. There is a huge undercurrent of “what do we do with the beautiful things when the world ends?” running through this, and it is an excellent question. Because there will always be reason to hold on to the beauty, the bits of the past that aren’t useless, not entirely. But there will also be a need for necessity. It becomes a delicate balance of what is needed for survival and what is not. Practicality over frivolity. This story felt the most apocalyptic to me. I give this one a 10/10.

Episode Seven: The Last Stand Against the Pack in the Kingdom of the Purple Flowers by John Langan
The last story in this collection was one of the more interesting stylistically. I’ve never read work by most of the people in this, but I was not prepared for this one. Written entirely in one sentence over the course of forty pages, I was ready to hate this. Episode Seven is about a woman and her best friend running away from a pack of hyenas (maybe hyenas? I don’t think it was fully said they were hyenas, but they were animals like hyenas). These animals are smart and tracking them through all kinds of terrain, and all kinds of metropolitan destruction. There’s an added level of fear for her because she’s also pregnant and nearing the end of her pregnancy. Her best friend, Wayne, somehow knows all the things he has to do in order to help them survive in the busted up world. But there’s something not quite right about him. Something has been off the entire time, but she’s been unable to figure it out. I loved the ending of this story, and by the time I’d reached it, I hadn’t paid too much attention to the punctuation situation. This was a fun thrill ride of a final story, and I think it gets an 8/10.

*******I read the 2015 Titan Books paperback edition*******

Salisbury.Fake book review

Arc of a Scythe by Neal Shusterman

Y’all. When I sat myself down to write a blog post for this week, I was not expecting to do another book review so soon, but I need to be an absolute mess about this series. I love Neal Shusterman. 10000000% his storytelling is one of my favorites out there, and this series, hoo buddy. I haven’t enjoyed a series so much since Lord of the Rings (to be fair to the other series out there, I only read it in its entirety probably three or four years ago, so in reality, I’ve read quite a few other series before Lord of the Rings). Anyone who knows me knows that is a ridiculous amount of love, and I to this day annoy my brother with Boromir dying memes. Never forget the ones you love.

Anyway. Yes. The Arc of a Scythe Series. I was recommended this by someone who’s reading opinions I trust, and she did not let me down in the slightest. I want to go on such a ramble about this set of books, but I won’t because I don’t want to spoil it for those who want to read it. As far as modern fiction goes, I am not well informed. I have my collection of books to read and I don’t really deviate much from them. I’ll add classics and sometimes WWII non-fiction and fiction to my shelves, but very rarely do I branch out and get taken in by more recent leaps into the world of reading. I see all kinds of fervor over the Court of Rose and Something Something series on Instagram, but that’s not my cup of coffeecake. I like action driven, over the top dramatic sometimes, and at the end a very emotionally draining book.

This series has everything in it I love about reading. I read the first one, Scythe, back in January and I had to wait until I had my tax refund to get the second and third one. I read them both over the last three days. They’re not small books. They’re hefty enough that they’d hurt if you had one thrown at you. I regret nothing because I haven’t been so happy with a book in so long and I tell you what I need to ramble.

I went into this thinking I knew what was coming and I am very, very happy to say I was incorrect. What I expected happened in maybe two places, but everywhere else, I was not prepared. The level of intrigue, the level of depravity, it is so far beyond a standard YA fiction to me. And maybe I’m not as up on YA fiction as I could be, but one of the things I was concerned about (and my brother said this, too) was how young the protagonists are. The first book centers around Citra and Roman, two teenagers plucked from their lives to begin training with the ever mysterious group of people called Scythes. See, in this future world, no one dies. The omnipresent being called the Thunderhead has eradicated disease and misery in most forms. People are ageless, and so in order to maintain some semblance of balance (or population control as it’s referred to a few times), the Scythes were created. They are the ones who choose who dies, and they’re beholden to their own set of laws or commandments. The Thunderhead controls the general population, but it cannot have any bearing whatsoever on the world of Scythes. They govern themselves. People are either fearful or indifferent to the Scythes. Most go about their lives not really caring about death until they see a Scythe, and then it all gets real. To be selected for an apprenticeship is no light thing. Once one is chosen to become a harbinger of death, normal life is upended. Family no longer knows how to treat you. People bend over backwards to accommodate a Scythe, often giving them free access to things since they don’t make any money doing what they do. And while people die frequently (there are people who die for fun just to be revived at a revival center. The morbidity of this whole idea of death is so deep it’s mind blowing), no one stays dead. Unless a Scythe gleans a person selected for death, that person is dead. They can’t be taken to a revival center and be brought back from “deadish.” I’d go into more detail, but I really want people to read these books, so I’m going to leave it there.

The first book sets the scene so dang perfectly for the following books. While the two main protagonists are indeed teenagers, they are not left to fend for themselves, and often are in the presence of their mentors, or other fully instated Scythes. Of course, there are a few “save the world” challenges they face, but in the end, the teens work with the adults to accomplish what they must. They’re less burdened with the pressure and it’s kind of spread across the few good people remaining. There’s the standard bad guy who corrupts the meaning of good to fit his narrative, there are religious zealots who cause unmentionable suffering. There’s moments of levity and love. It’s intense in its drive to find the truth in all things, and when the secrets are finally revealed, I admit I held the book high as I screamed in delight.

I will probably read this again at some point, because it’s that good to me, but I will lament I can’t read it for the first time again. It’s a series I will recommend highly to anyone who enjoys reading.

I give all three of these books, individually and together, a 10/10. I’d go higher if I could.

*******I read the 2017, 2019, and 2020 Simon and Schuster Paperback editions*******

Salisbury.Fake book review

The Last Wish by Andrzej Sapkowski

Let me begin this by saying I’m someone who prefers books over visual adaptations of those books. I say this because I think this is one of the rare times I prefer the show over the book. I feel blasphemous saying so, but hear me out. I’ve not played the games or seen a playthrough of those games, so I can only compare the book to the show (I’ve heard it said that the games follow the books more closely). While all of this sounds as though I’m about to take a dump on this book, I’m not. I’m going to try and look at the book as a separate being from the show and discuss my feelings on it.

I don’t think it’s bad. Let’s get that out of the way first, here. It’s not a bad story being told. For me, the disconnect comes from the writing style. It’s not that I think Mr. Sapkowski can’t write, he can, it’s just a different style than I am used to. With that in mind, I read through this book in the space of about two days (because I had to work, yo), and I appreciated the quickness of the read. There were several spots where it fell very flat, however, and it felt, as one of my friends said, like we were waiting with the characters for something to happen. Part of me wonders if that’s because we lost something in the translation (originally written in Polish), but I know nothing about the original language, so I don’t even want to speculate further. I didn’t approach this as something that would blow my book lovin’ mind, but I did expect a little more than what I got.

This is the introduction to Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde, or simply “Geralt of Rivia.” He’s a witcher, a mutated not quite sorcerer, not really human anymore, not really anything but a badass of fighting skill and ability to take down the world’s scary things that go “oof” in the night. Witchers are rare. They’re a dying breed (?) because the lore used to create them has been lost over the centuries. They’re pretty cool characters, and one thing I appreciate in the book is how there are other witchers. Geralt is not the only one. In the show (shhh, I know I said I wouldn’t), Geralt is presented as one of the last of his kind. That’s true still for the books, but there are at least five in the books (that I remember at the moment, but I started reading them out of order, so I got ahead of myself… It’s high school and Harry Potter all over again). So Geralt isn’t the last surviving hope for humanity.

In the first book, it’s mainly set up for the characters who come later. There’s some oddly sprinkled in fairy tale references that kind of made me feel weird after their appearance. I’m not 100% sure on the effectiveness of trying to link those to this world, because it kind of took me out of what I was reading. We meet Dandelion, Geralt’s bard friend, Yennefer, the love interest (or is she?), a priestess named Nenneke, who I was pretty fond of although I’m not sure of how much of her we’ll see later on in the story. Mousesack, the sorcerer to Queen Calanthe (who is absolutely a badass woman and I loved her so much). Pavetta and Duny, the two deeply in love people who first bring up the Law of Surprise (a thing which becomes important later).

The Law of Surprise is something I don’t fully understand. In the show, it’s very briefly touched on in the episode where Geralt defends Duny and Pavetta’s relationship against Calanthe’s sketchy underhandedness. As I understand it, from the book, basically what you don’t know you have waiting at home is now the thing the person who helped you receives as payment for that assistance? It seems to be used mostly when lives are saved. Which is useful. But another way the book and the show deviate is Geralt knows Pavetta’s pregnant in the book. On the show, it’s truly a surprise, which then makes it a bit touchy later on when certain events happen.

I’m a fan of the show because the story is told in a way that moves itself along and is faster paced. Plus, Henry Cavill is Geralt, and I don’t know that I’d want to see anyone else in that role. Not because I have a healthy (shut up it is) appreciation for the man, but Geralt isn’t a flashy character. He’s very reserved, and he’s very observant. He’s doing his best with the job he’s been given, and the world just seems to get in the way because people aren’t very keen on difference. The parts of the book within the show are done very well and stay true to the story Sapkowski is telling. It’s rare to me to see something so close to the source material. Though these days, Netflix starts out strong with their adaptations.

I’ve reached the point where I’m rambling, so I will go ahead and close this out by saying I don’t regret reading this, but I’m not in a hurry to read the second one.

I give this book a 7/10.

*******I read the 2017 First Trade Paperback Edition*******

Salisbury.Fake book review, Life

Let’s Talk About Books

I was the kid who didn’t get TV taken away when I was in trouble, I got my books taken away. I still found ways to read even when I was not supposed to. Telling me I couldn’t go outside wasn’t a problem for me, because I preferred escaping through the world of books. We didn’t live close enough for me to walk to my friends’ houses, so that wasn’t an issue for me either. My parents would have to find more creative ways to punish me for disobedience.

Books have always been my vice. When I lived with my mom for a bit and had my books in storage for over a year, the first thing I grabbed when I moved into my place was my crates of books. I add more and more to my “to read” shelves faster than I’m actually reading. Home is not home without my books.

But today we’re going to do a bit of a discussion about how brains work.

When I’m at the height of a depressive episode, I tend to shut down the parts of my brain that activate on creative stimulus. Easy distraction is how I live my life in those times, and so I watch a lot of Netflix, or I spend hours on YouTube trying to find ways to give my brain an easy way out from thinking so much about the stuff that makes my chest hurt.

The thing about that though is it becomes a habit. I struggle to focus on reading now because I got so in the habit of switching on easy media to keep my brain from spiraling. This isn’t to say I don’t read anymore, because I do, but it’s nowhere near the “read the entire Harry Potter series in five days over Spring Break” level I used to be.

I also have a full time job, and I have a home to own, so there are added responsibilities to my life I didn’t have when I could be so carefree with my time. I miss those days, though, when I could spend entire days reading a series and finishing two books in a day. I’ve considered devoting weekends to that, but then the adult part of my brain reminds me I have dishes to wash and laundry to get done. This reasoning also feels like an excuse sometimes, especially when I don’t get either the dishes or laundry done.

So, today’s post is more of a gentle reminder that it’s okay to let yourself get lost in a book every now and then. It’s okay to find your way back to the part of you that misses that feeling, whether it’s about books or some other hobby you could lose yourself to. I think breaking out of bad habits is excruciating because as we know change is something most people dig their toes into the sand over. For me, my goal is two books a month until I get my mojo back.

Small steps forward seem insignificant until you realize you’ve gone three miles.