Witchcraft is a fascinating and far-spanning look into the trials of witches throughout time. From 1400s Austria through the Scottish and Salem trials, moving into the way perceptions of witches and witchcraft shifted in the 1900s and 2000s, it’s clear that Marion Gibson chose her trials carefully. The underlying theme is othering - of women, people with disabilities, those of non-Christian cultures, gay people and more. Some trials take the term “witch” literally whilst others, particularly the later trials, are using witch-hunting as an excuse for another motive. In all cases Gibson’s point is clear - all witch trials are about power and oppression. I found this a well curated glimpse into not just trials over continents and time but also an opportunity to focus on victims.
As someone who knew next to nothing about Patti Smith, Robert Mapplethorpe or the scene they were part of on the 60s, I really enjoyed Just Kids. I achieve this, I found I had to accept where names were dropped that mean nothing to me, and focus instead on the world Smith builds in her writing. There are two main themes here - the love story (romantic, platonic and the rest) between Smith and Mapplethrope and the glimpse into the lives of two struggling artists in 60s America. On those things at all this was a strong read to me. Smith is, of course, brilliant in her writing and has the right balance of the poetic and the banal. There’s a sense from the beginning of impending tragedy which steps with you from each page and images accompany the chapters to add both grounding and wistful beauty. It’s, without doubt, a love letter to Robert Mapplethorpe.
“At the end of the week I tell my husband that I am going to try harder to make things matter. My husband says that he has heard that before, but the air is warm and the baby has another frangipani lei and there is no rancor in his voice. Maybe it can be all right, I say. Maybe, he says.”
My fascination in Joan Didion lies with the forensic, obsessive way she looks at things she chooses to write about. Never a word used without purpose, she herself admitted her edits of her own work could be close to endless. She speaks of malls, dams, a politicians house with intricate detail - when she tells her husband she will try and make things matter, she does not mean her writing. She means her life outside of that; whatever that might be.
The White Album is a wide ranging collection of essays which whilst often not about Didion at all, show who she is by proxy. Her thoughts on feminism in this book are at odds with all she achieved on her life, causing conflict in her friendship with fellow author Eve Babitz. Some of her most interesting pieces for me were around her relationship with and observations on Hollywood. However, as ever her talent means lifeguards at Zuma beach, California in the 70s are almost as fascinating.
With Didion, everything she writes about matters to her. It’s only after her husband’s death that she writes about him in great detail. Yet no one who read A Year of Magical Thinking would say he and their daughter were anything less than important to her.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
I always enjoy any creativity when it comes to structure, and exchanging letters is a simple yet fairly uncommon tool. Gladstone and El-Mohtar twist between exchanges and traditional prose to tell a story of two enemy agents on opposite sites of a grand war. Enemies to lovers in brief, there is a lyricism and beauty to the evolution of both Blue and Red throughout. I’ve increasingly come to appreciate novella length reads over time (one too many over-bloated, over-exposition filled book in the past, perhaps) and “Time War” utilises every word wisely. A swift, beautiful and thrilling read.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
Open Water achieves two things incredibly well in a very short number of pages - a reflection on what it is to be a black man in Britain, and a beautiful love story.
The love story is more heart wrenching because of the connection between the two characters. They are clearly aching for one another emotionally, creatively, spiritually as well as physically. The gentle build leading to a hot, sultry summer of intense emotion and closeness which peters into a withdrawal and separation is painful and yet undeniably beautiful.
The reflections of living somewhere all your life but never really feeling at home, or safe, are equally wrenching. As a white women reading this I was gifted an insight into what it is to live in a world of constant “otherness”. Azumah Nelson does not flinch from the hard realities of suspicion and violence baked into the police in Britain, or how that makes black people feel.
A wonderful debut, I’ll certainly be seeking out his sophomore novel to see how this talent develops.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.5
I received this book as an ARC via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
2.5 / 5
The Bride of Death is a retelling of the Persephone and Hades tale with some YA tropes woven in (although I was pleased to see the main character, Zerryn, was in her early 20s rather than 17 as is often the preference). I enjoyed the brief window we had into Zerryn’s childhood, which was haunted by loss and the shadow of death, and the transition into young woman grounded her for me. However after this the pacing began to rapidly descend into unevenness. Some evens came upon us in moments, others built up with painstaking slowness.
The central romance was a triangle but for the most part I found this fine (and I usually hate love triangles) - mostly because one point of the triangle is largely forgotten for most of the book. Erlik and Zerryn unfortunately have little chemistry - their tenuous connection and Erlik’s strange obsession with Zerryn never seemed to be based in anything substantial. They have some light hearted banter, some steamy kisses and suddenly are infatuated.
I enjoyed the trials and this was perhaps my favourite part of the book - the dynamic between Erlik’s suitors (in particular Beyza) was interesting and fun whilst also forwarding the plot.
The ending, for me, was deeply unsatisfying and is what brings this from a 3 to a 2.5 star read. If you’re looking for something based on Hades & Persephone and love YA (I’m thinking particularly if you’re after a one-shot, ACoTaR-esque read) you may enjoy The Bride of Death.
3.5 stars. The World According to Joan Didion is a rumination on the writers life and in many ways the way it interspersed with Evelyn McDonnell’s own. Whilst there are times where this works (when McDonnell undertakes a pilgrimage of sorts to Hawaii to follow in Didon’s footsteps) there are also times when it doesn’t. There are also really fascinating chapters (the one outlining Didion’s relationship with her daughter) but ones which seem overwritten about an element of Didion’s life which was incredibly slight. I felt like I learned little that was new, but enjoyed living in Didion’s world for a while. McDonnell is unapologetically a huge Didion fan, so there’s clear bias shown. However I didn’t find this problematic, as McDonnell is transparent about this throughout. Overall for someone less familiar with Didion, or someone who just wants to reflect on Didion for a while, this is a good read. If you’re looking for deep detail on her life or fresh insights, you may not find what you’re looking for.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
“There is no feeling like sitting in the dirt watching an entire market of men, fleeing from you. I felt like an abomination. I was an abomination. But, oh Ani, I was so powerful.”
She Who Knows: Firespitter is my first time reading anything by Nnedi Okorafor. A prequel to “Who Fears Death”, I found this to be a fine introduction to Okorafor’s style, which she describes as africanfuturism . The mix of West African culture, a post apocalyptic world and some lightly used science fiction detail work really well together. The mix makes the world in which Najeeba (our protagonist) inhabits unique.
It’s difficult to introduce a reader to a new world in a novella. However I found Okaorafor also did this well - there was a little too much exposition towards the end, however in the main I felt the scale of the story being told, in under 200 pages, fit well with the room needed to give a flavour of the environment and culture of the people of Adoro 5.
There are also strong elements of feminism throughout which I enjoyed. Najeeba is outside the norm and she embraces it for the majority of the book, refusing to cower from her growing gifts but instead pushing to utilise them.
Overall this was a really enjoyable introduction to Nnedi Okorafor, and has definitely put “Who Fears Death” on my tbr.
Gild for me was a bit of a rollercoaster read. There were times when I was fascinated, gripped by a plot point or piece of characterisation. There were also times when I decidedly wasn’t. First novels in any series are hard. As well as setting the scene and introducing characters, the author has to try and engage the reader. I enjoyed Auren for how real she was - a gilded prisoner who was both “spoiled” and horribly psychologically and physically manipulated and abused would naturally create a person with a conflicting inner monologue. At times Auren was painfully aware of her situation. At times her gratitude to her captor made her blissfully ignorant to just how bad her lot was. I also enjoyed some of the supporting characters (Digby, I hope we meet again in future instalments). Kennedy’s unflinching description of violence, sex and power enriched things significantly for me. However, the central concept felt a little flat. Midas’s drive for having Auren as his favoured and vaulting her so highly seemed painfully thin. Auren’s power (her threads) never quite read right. The fact that some people had powers also felt like a bolt on rather than part of the lore. Lots of small, jarring things threw me out of the things I did enjoy. I found myself faintly curious about the sequel, rather than ravenous for it.