rgoth's reviews
378 reviews

Ok but wtaf did I just read?! 

Hannah is an utterly unlikable character, and while it's evident that she’s grappling with some deep-seated issues — likely requiring mental health support — her personality is so self-centred and needy that it borders on frustrating. I suspect the author crafted her this way intentionally, but she lacks any redeeming qualities that could make the reader empathize with her struggle.

She meanders through life with minimal effort, barely pulling her weight at work, and then wonders why she doesn't get a promotion. It’s almost comical how she manages to do even less when faced with the prospect of advancing her career. She claims to be investigating the tragic deaths of these young women, but her so-called research feels more like an excuse than a genuine endeavour and there is no sense of her being genuine at any point.

A dislikeable protagonist can often add depth to a narrative; in some cases, such characters can make a story more engrossing. However, with Hannah, I found it incredibly challenging to root for her. 

While the story itself moves at a brisk pace with plenty of twists to keep you guessing, I realised that the plot became painfully predictable at times. There were moments when I found myself exasperated, shouting, “Come on, Hannah, figure it out!” 🙄

This book screams privilege — particularly the kind held by wealthy white men, illustrating how money can obscure the truth and allow certain matters to conveniently vanish. It also delves into the unsettling phenomenon of how serial killers become disturbingly glamorous figures in true crime, while the victims are often overlooked, their names fading from memory. 

I can’t deny that the book was entertaining; I devoured it within 24 hours, captivated by the rollercoaster ride it provided. However, I wouldn’t recommend it to everyone, especially those who typically gravitate toward darker thrillers. Instead, this book leans more towards a thriller-comedy.

This book is a whirlwind of emotions, and I found myself loving and hating it in equal measure. 

The garden, which is a huge confined greenhouse-type structure, is a setting that feels surreal—so extraordinary that it challenges my beliefs. The premise seemed so far-fetched at times that I struggled to grasp how it could exist in the real world. 

Yet, the grim topics of kidnapping, rape, and murder woven into the narrative are painfully real, transforming the experience into something profound, often uncomfortable, and deeply unsettling. 

Maya, the protagonist, captured my heart; she exuded strength, boldness, and a refreshing sass that made me root for her fiercely. I desperately hoped she wouldn’t harbour any secrets that might shatter my admiration for her character. 

The narrative alternates between gripping interviews with Maya and her compelling recounting of the harrowing events. The FBI agents conducting the interviews drove me to distraction with their insensitive methods. I can hardly fathom the immense emotional toll it must take to recount such traumatic experiences. 

One aspect that slightly frustrated me was the seemingly passive reaction of the girls. With 22 to 25 capable and healthy young women cohabiting, it's hard for me to believe they couldn't band together sooner to orchestrate an escape. Though fear is a paralysing force, the thought of being trapped in a nightmare with no hope of survival would surely spark the instinct to fight back. I understand the constraints of their reality, but the thought of being held captive, struggling against the ever-present terror, surely was worse. 

Despite these frustrations, I found myself absorbed in the story—“enjoyed” feels like the wrong word, as I oscillated between feelings of anger, sadness, tension, and disgust, yet I simply could not stop reading!

While this novel may not rank among the best thrillers I've encountered, it's certainly not the worst either. There were moments during the story's unfolding that I genuinely enjoyed, particularly the character of Professor Hans Rekke. His internal battle with mental health adds a layer of depth to his personality, making him a fascinating figure within the narrative.

However, I found both Rekke and Micaela Vargas, the two central characters, to be somewhat exaggerated in their portrayals. Rekke, a supposed musical genius, possesses a remarkable logical mind, yet some of his deductions stretch the limits of plausibility. This reliance on implausible conclusions detracts from the overall believability of the story, leaving it feeling somewhat unrealistic at times

I truly enjoyed this book, although it's hard to categorize it strictly as horror but there is definitely a blend of psychological horror infused with unsettling themes, which creates an atmosphere filled with tension and unease. There are undeniably some incredibly creepy moments that linger in your mind.

What struck me most was Kherbash's nuanced portrayal of grief and complex trauma. The insights felt so authentic that I could practically feel Emma's emotions radiating off the pages—her pain, confusion, and vulnerability were palpable throughout the narrative.

The book also explores intriguing themes surrounding mushrooms, which I found fascinating. However, I wished the author had delved deeper into this aspect, as I felt there was so much more to uncover about their significance and symbolism that was left somewhat unexplored.

There are sections where the text becomes disorienting and trippy, and I believe this was a deliberate choice by the author. It mirrors the dreamlike quality of the story, evoking the sensation of a fever dream that reflects Nolan's inner turmoil and fragmented realities.

While I empathised deeply with Emma’s grief, I struggled to connect with her or Nolan. This disconnection made it challenging to root for them as the story unfolded, even though I understood the complex layers of their struggles.

The ambiguous ending left me with a sense of contemplation that lingered long after I turned the final page, prompting me to ponder the deeper meanings behind the narrative.

This book was unlike anything I anticipated. The cover art is stunning and truly drew me in, setting high expectations. Even though it veered in directions I hadn't expected, I ultimately found it to be a rewarding experience. I'm now eager to explore more of Kherbash's work and see where their storytelling takes me next.

Thank you to the Author, publishers and Netgally for the ARC of this book. This review is my own. 

This book is an absolutely captivating read that compels you to delve into the intricacies of how we communicate. It prompted deep reflection on my own journey of adapting the language I use in both professional and academic settings, alongside the efforts I've made to adopt a more neutral accent.

One particular challenge that resonates with me is the vast array of English language variations and the rich interplay of cultures blending their first language with English. For instance, living in my area, I've noticed that two neighboring valleys can employ the same words in entirely different contexts. While the book touches on this issue, it unfortunately doesn't explore it in sufficient depth.

Take, for example, the local slang term 'Wenglish,' a unique fusion of Cymraeg (Welsh) and English. This linguistic blend adds an intricate layer to the already complex nature of language use. Although the author addresses African American Vernacular English (AAVE) and the language used by the queer community in New York City, there are countless other regional dialects and social vernaculars that go unmentioned. While it's likely impractical to encompass every example, acknowledging this reality would have added valuable context.

Furthermore, I believe it's essential to recognize that it isn't only factors such as sexism and misogyny which play a significant role in shaping language, but also class, socioeconomic disparities and colonial influences.

The chapters analysing binary language, in particular, fascinated me, as they illuminated the ways in which such constructs are deeply ingrained in society. Pronouns are such a hot topic at the moment and this chapter explains the argument very well. I was particularly appreciative of how the author illustrated the tendency of even progressive voices to look down on conservative perspectives, especially within the United States, by condescendingly correcting their spelling and grammar.

Overall, this book is a rich and thought-provoking exploration, filled with quotable insights. However, it ultimately only grazes the surface of the remarkable complexity inherent in human language.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The intricate "book within a book" storyline captivated me, and the true crime element added a layer of intrigue that kept me engaged. I can absolutely envision myself purchasing this true crime book the moment I would spot it on a shelf.

One of the most fascinating aspects was knowing the identity of the perpetrator right from the beginning. This unique twist completely flipped the traditional whodunnit formula on its head, making for a refreshing reading experience.

However, the book did have its drawbacks. Some lengthy descriptions felt excessive, stretching the narrative more than necessary. Additionally, I found that I could predict the unfolding events quite early, particularly when Jim became aware of the upcoming book signing. I had a hunch about how things would play out, and my guess turned out to be correct.

In summary, this was a cleverly woven story with a captivating plot, and I would certainly be eager to explore more works by Howard in the future.

3.25 🌟

I've been reading this book for my book club, and recently, I found myself in an intriguing discussion with another member. I said that I was already over 60% through, yet I still wasn't sure whether I was enjoying it or not. Now that I've reached the end, that uncertainty lingers – I'm still grappling with whether it was truly a thrilling read or not.

One aspect I did appreciate was the mysterious whodunnit element woven throughout the narrative. The character of Tony, Anna's brother, struck me as particularly unsettling; his creepy demeanour added a layer of tension that kept me turning the pages. I was genuinely eager to uncover the truth behind Eva's story as it unfolded.

However, the significant hurdle I encountered was my aversion to the cast of characters. They all seem like sociopaths ensnared in their own selfish pursuits, lacking any genuine empathy for those around them. It felt as though none of them possessed a moral compass beyond their self-interests, which made it incredibly challenging for me to root for anyone. This disconnection ultimately hindered my ability to engage deeply with the overall narrative.

Even Eva appeared to approach her work more as a means to feel something rather than out of any true desire to create positive change. 

All in all, I believe the premise holds great promise, and I found myself compelled to continue reading, keen to discover how it would all conclude. However, I yearned for more depth and complexity among the characters, as having someone to connect with would have enriched my experience significantly.

There were definitely aspects of this book that I really enjoyed.

I loved the concept behind it and appreciated some of the themes it explored—it felt refreshingly different from anything else I’ve read. The descriptions were beautifully written, and overall, I found the characters engaging.

That said, I’d have to agree that the plot wasn’t particularly strong, and I was genuinely surprised by how abruptly it ended. It left me wanting more, but not necessarily in the best way!

I would probably explore more books in this series and 10/10 for the cover art 😍

Taylor Jenkins Reid is an extraordinary storyteller, weaving tales that resonate deeply. This book will live rent free in my mind for a long time.

I must admit, I’ve never been one for sports, and tennis has never interested me. I’ve never taken the time to watch a match nor felt the slightest inclination towards the game. So, it came as a surprise when I found myself gripping my seat in anticipation with every game Carrie played. What was it about her journey that pulled me in so tightly? Why did I become so invested in her quest for her comeback? Reid’s masterful ability to create compelling, multi-dimensional characters bridges any gap of indifference I might have had towards the sport.

Carrie Soto emerges as a fierce force of nature—bold, unapologetic, a bit abrasive, yet undeniably captivating. Her unwavering confidence, combined with her complex flaws and raw determination, made me unexpectedly fall in love with her. She is a character fully alive, and despite her sometimes grating personality, I found myself cheering for her.

The bond between Carrie and her father is beautifully crafted; his steadfast support and unshakeable pride, even in the face of setbacks, struck a chord within me. Their relationship embodies the essence of love and encouragement, showcasing the importance of having someone who believes in you wholeheartedly.

This book delves into themes of growth and acceptance, particularly as one navigates the shifts that come with ageing. It explores the drive to persist against societal disdain and the media’s harsh judgment. It’s about taking the labels society tries to impose on you and wearing them like badges of honour, turning adversity into empowerment.

Carrie Soto is back. The. Bitch. Is. Back!

This story, though brief, is profoundly beautiful. It evokes a whirlwind of emotions within a few carefully crafted pages. I stumbled upon this book by sheer chance, and I couldn't be more grateful for that serendipity. The depth and richness it contains are truly remarkable, leaving a lasting impression that lingers long after reading.