Scan barcode
broro117's reviews
177 reviews
Book Lovers by Emily Henry
2.0
It's been a month since I finished this book and I'd honestly forgotten to review it till now, so I'm just gonna write down the notes I took as I was reading.
-Have romance authors ever seen a human face?
-This book about two people falling in love while editing a book together has so many easy editing errors.
-The endless mentions of Charlie's lips twitching/chin creasing/eyes flashing are starting to make me concerned for him. And every time his weird "pouty-smirk" thing comes up I just imagine him doing the Flynn Rider smolder.
-Reading the "smut" in these books always feels like reading the written version of a Marvel fight scene.
-This could easily be 100 pages shorter. I'm not sure there's ever a valid reason for a book like this to exceed 300 pages.
-If this grown woman calls her sister "Sissy" one more time, I stg
-I don't care how much of a savvy businesswoman you are, no woman loves wearing heels to this extent. This is verging on pathological.
-So many portions of this book read like Buzzfeed listicles of the top things to do in NYC.
-I don't buy that a woman like Nora has this extreme level of obsession with and involvement in her sister's life. I'm glad it's finally called out for being unhealthy, but I find it really hard to believe that a person as competent as Nora would put off her life and career dreams for 10 YEARS to take care of a fully-independent (and also competent) younger sibling. Furthermore, you're telling me this incredible literary agent who's known for being a "shark" (although she's definitely not) isn't capable of having ONE direct conversation with her sister? I don't bite.
Look, I think I need to give up the ghost and accept that contemporary romances will never work for me. I can't get down with their single-mindedness; I need more tension in my stories than wondering if two people who are obviously going to get together are going to get together. I've never found a modern romance that makes me feel anything for the characters or their relationships. These books don't have enough substance to pad out their page length and so resort to being extremely repetitive and picking small details (a woman's small stature, for instance, or a man's crooked smile) to harp on ad nauseam and they just feel...empty.
Pros: I liked the setting, although I'm from a small town and currently live two hours from Asheville, so there's probably a good amount of bias involved. I also like that it at least attempted to subvert some common romance tropes?
My highest praise for this book is that I finished it and it's the best contemporary romance I've read. Unfortunately, that's not saying much.
-Have romance authors ever seen a human face?
-This book about two people falling in love while editing a book together has so many easy editing errors.
-The endless mentions of Charlie's lips twitching/chin creasing/eyes flashing are starting to make me concerned for him. And every time his weird "pouty-smirk" thing comes up I just imagine him doing the Flynn Rider smolder.
-Reading the "smut" in these books always feels like reading the written version of a Marvel fight scene.
-This could easily be 100 pages shorter. I'm not sure there's ever a valid reason for a book like this to exceed 300 pages.
-If this grown woman calls her sister "Sissy" one more time, I stg
-I don't care how much of a savvy businesswoman you are, no woman loves wearing heels to this extent. This is verging on pathological.
-So many portions of this book read like Buzzfeed listicles of the top things to do in NYC.
-I don't buy that a woman like Nora has this extreme level of obsession with and involvement in her sister's life. I'm glad it's finally called out for being unhealthy, but I find it really hard to believe that a person as competent as Nora would put off her life and career dreams for 10 YEARS to take care of a fully-independent (and also competent) younger sibling. Furthermore, you're telling me this incredible literary agent who's known for being a "shark" (although she's definitely not) isn't capable of having ONE direct conversation with her sister? I don't bite.
Look, I think I need to give up the ghost and accept that contemporary romances will never work for me. I can't get down with their single-mindedness; I need more tension in my stories than wondering if two people who are obviously going to get together are going to get together. I've never found a modern romance that makes me feel anything for the characters or their relationships. These books don't have enough substance to pad out their page length and so resort to being extremely repetitive and picking small details (a woman's small stature, for instance, or a man's crooked smile) to harp on ad nauseam and they just feel...empty.
Pros: I liked the setting, although I'm from a small town and currently live two hours from Asheville, so there's probably a good amount of bias involved. I also like that it at least attempted to subvert some common romance tropes?
My highest praise for this book is that I finished it and it's the best contemporary romance I've read. Unfortunately, that's not saying much.
The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music by Dave Grohl
I'm in awe of how much life this man has packed into his years. His passion for music is absolutely infectious. Long live Rock Jesus
*Listened to audiobook while following along with physical book
*Listened to audiobook while following along with physical book
Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell
4.0
While I was taking an illuminating peek into Biblical times with The Book of Longings, I was given an equally informative portrayal of Elizabethan life with this book. This is the kind of historical fiction I enjoy, the kind that allows you a true glimpse of what life was like in a different time, rather than the kind that's just romance using a certain period of history as an unexplored backdrop. My favorite part and the best example of what I loved about O'Farrell's writing may well have been the labyrinthine chapter that follows the origins of the affliction that eventually kills Hamnet (AKA The Brotherhood of the Traveling Flea). I knocked off a star because the second half of the book felt a bit aimless.
also Agnes is a witchy queen and we love her
also Agnes is a witchy queen and we love her
The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd
5.0
This is exactly my type of book. It feels like a well-researched window into a period of history that I've seriously neglected, because although I grew up going to church and have learned the basic gist of Jesus's life countless times, I've somehow never really considered the day-to-day life of the people around him or the finer details of their culture and society. It never explicitly validates or rejects Christian beliefs, which I really appreciate, and Kidd's methods of walking this line while incorporating nods to familiar Bible stories were really clever. I found the writing breathtaking, the history endlessly fascinating, the characters beautifully human, and I loved every bit of it.
The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
2.0
On paper, this should've been a book I really enjoyed. A gloomy wintry atmosphere, gothic elements, a Victorian setting--but something was missing here, and so it comes off more as a cheap imitation of the other, better gothic novels it CONSTANTLY references (does Setterfield know any other books besides Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights or The Woman in White?). The characters and story are flat and strangely emotionless and I didn't find myself caring about any of them, except for maybe Aurelius. I found many aspects unbelievable but not in a way I think the author intended. None of the anticipated big reveals were particularly shocking, while some seriously dark stuff (incest) was oddly glanced over.
Also, I may be totally out of line here, but I just don't buy thatthe loss of a conjoined twin at birth could cause the kind of enduring trauma Margaret displays, especially if you only found out you had a twin at all several years after the fact .
Overall, I'd rather just read one of the aforementioned classic gothic novels, and it kinda feels like that's what Diane Setterfield wants you to do anyway?
Also, I may be totally out of line here, but I just don't buy that
Overall, I'd rather just read one of the aforementioned classic gothic novels, and it kinda feels like that's what Diane Setterfield wants you to do anyway?
I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid
4.5
I truly don't know how to start this review. My mind has been spinning since I finished this book ~15 hours ago and I've spent literally all day combing back through it, rereading the final chapter, watching YouTube videos and reading Reddit threads trying to fit every single one of its puzzle pieces into place. There's just SO MUCH to chew on here.
The disparity between my actual reading experience and my post-reading thoughts on this book are baffling and fascinating to me. Tbh, I was fairly bored throughout most of the book and planned on giving it an it-was-fine 3 stars. But here I am giving it 4.5 stars, and I can definitely see myself revisiting this review in the future to bump that up to 5. (That .5 star difference is due almost entirely to the aforementioned boredom, but I think if I were to do a reread that boredom would be greatly lessened or eliminated entirely.) I love when I encounter a piece of media that I respond to in a way I never knew I could respond to something, and the total switcheroo this book pulled with my feelings, from ambivalence to near-obsession, is definitely something I didn't know was possible.
I went into this book having had the ending vaguely spoiled (I knewthere was a janitor involved, he was somehow closely connected to the two main characters and he committed suicide in the end ), and that alone made me skeptical. It sounded like it was in danger of committing the same crime as many of M. Night Shyamalan's films: Creating a twist ending purely for shock value and padding the rest of the plot out with shoddy filler content for no other reason than to have something to lead up to the ending.
For most of the book, it seemed like that fear would be validated. Only after I had finished the very last page did I recognize the brilliant way Reid had crafted this novel. I finally saw that the first ~170 pages weren't shoddy or filler-y at all, but that every piece of information, every philosophical discussion and every rash on a teenage DQ worker's arm served a purpose. I'm sitting here, all these hours later, STILL making connections between these tiny little details scattered throughout the book, and dammit, that's worth something. That's art.
This is gonna be a weird comparison, but it reminds me of what I love so much about Holes by Louis Sachar, another book I consider a perfectly-crafted jigsaw puzzle where every element fits together just so in the most satisfying way that's just *chef's kiss* bellissimo.
And although I can't say I really enjoyed reading the car ride conversations, I can't deny how thought-provoking this book was either. For such a dark book, it's really trying to emphasize (among SEVERAL other things) the importance of human connection, how it enriches our lives and makes them worth living.
At one point, the girlfriend says of a frightening childhood memory, "It’s not heart-stopping or intense or bloodcurdling or graphic or violent. No jump scares. To me, these qualities aren’t usually scary. Something that disorients, that unsettles what’s taken for granted, something that disturbs and disrupts reality—that’s scary." This book (its ending in particular) is unsettling in a way that got into my bones, and I always really appreciate when a story has that kind of power.
Also, this is the first time I've ever seen trichotillomania represented in literature, and I want to thank Iain Reid for that as someone who sometimes had to wear false lashes in high school because I'd pulled out all of my own eyelashes. It's nice to see that condition acknowledged even within the context of a horror novel.
In conclusion, I didn't really love the initial reading process, but after several hours of reflection, I recognize and tip my hat to the way Reid constructed every facet of this story. It's a haunting tale that insinuated itself under my skin without my noticing until I had finished the very last word of the very last page. There have been several books I've really enjoyed in the past that I've forgotten nearly every detail of within a couple years. I have a feeling that won't be the case with this one. Like my all-time favorite books, those that have endured the test of time, I think this will be one I revisit often in my mind.
The disparity between my actual reading experience and my post-reading thoughts on this book are baffling and fascinating to me. Tbh, I was fairly bored throughout most of the book and planned on giving it an it-was-fine 3 stars. But here I am giving it 4.5 stars, and I can definitely see myself revisiting this review in the future to bump that up to 5. (That .5 star difference is due almost entirely to the aforementioned boredom, but I think if I were to do a reread that boredom would be greatly lessened or eliminated entirely.) I love when I encounter a piece of media that I respond to in a way I never knew I could respond to something, and the total switcheroo this book pulled with my feelings, from ambivalence to near-obsession, is definitely something I didn't know was possible.
I went into this book having had the ending vaguely spoiled (I knew
For most of the book, it seemed like that fear would be validated. Only after I had finished the very last page did I recognize the brilliant way Reid had crafted this novel. I finally saw that the first ~170 pages weren't shoddy or filler-y at all, but that every piece of information, every philosophical discussion and every rash on a teenage DQ worker's arm served a purpose. I'm sitting here, all these hours later, STILL making connections between these tiny little details scattered throughout the book, and dammit, that's worth something. That's art.
This is gonna be a weird comparison, but it reminds me of what I love so much about Holes by Louis Sachar, another book I consider a perfectly-crafted jigsaw puzzle where every element fits together just so in the most satisfying way that's just *chef's kiss* bellissimo.
And although I can't say I really enjoyed reading the car ride conversations, I can't deny how thought-provoking this book was either. For such a dark book, it's really trying to emphasize (among SEVERAL other things) the importance of human connection, how it enriches our lives and makes them worth living.
At one point, the girlfriend says of a frightening childhood memory, "It’s not heart-stopping or intense or bloodcurdling or graphic or violent. No jump scares. To me, these qualities aren’t usually scary. Something that disorients, that unsettles what’s taken for granted, something that disturbs and disrupts reality—that’s scary." This book (its ending in particular) is unsettling in a way that got into my bones, and I always really appreciate when a story has that kind of power.
Also, this is the first time I've ever seen trichotillomania represented in literature, and I want to thank Iain Reid for that as someone who sometimes had to wear false lashes in high school because I'd pulled out all of my own eyelashes. It's nice to see that condition acknowledged even within the context of a horror novel.
In conclusion, I didn't really love the initial reading process, but after several hours of reflection, I recognize and tip my hat to the way Reid constructed every facet of this story. It's a haunting tale that insinuated itself under my skin without my noticing until I had finished the very last word of the very last page. There have been several books I've really enjoyed in the past that I've forgotten nearly every detail of within a couple years. I have a feeling that won't be the case with this one. Like my all-time favorite books, those that have endured the test of time, I think this will be one I revisit often in my mind.
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
3.0
I'm not exactly sure why, but this just didn't slap the way I expected it to.
Maybe I would've liked it more if I weren't already very familiar with the story, having seen the stage play and one of the film adaptations. I love the premise of being haunted by a lover's universally-beloved ex and tortured by the constant comparisons, but the plot feels a bit threadbare and I was fairly bored throughout. There were definitely moments where I connected with the protagonist's musings on behavior and societal expectations, and those were probably my favorite parts of the book.
I'm not sure what the takeaway message is meant to be. Are we supposed to be rooting for the main character and her relationship with Maxim? Is it meant to be a critique of the blind eye we often turn to the faults of those we love? Is it a commentary on how much more harshly misbehaving women are punished than misbehaving men? Are we meant to condemn or admire Rebecca? Are we meant to condemn or admire the main character? Is Maxim meant to be viewed as a sympathetic character or as amanipulative murderer ? Is the relationship between Maxim and the protagonist actually meant to read as a romance (because she's absolutely right; Maxim does treat her more like a dog or a child than a wife)? I'm not someone who requires concrete answers in my books; I appreciate ambiguity when it's done well. But in this case, I have no idea what the novel is trying to say and I'm not sure the novel knows either.
I also don't think I'm a big fan of detective novels that are single-mindedly focused on solving a solitary crime, and that's essentially what the last part of the book turns into. I found the ending to be jarringly abrupt and anticlimactic.As someone who knew the ending beforehand, I watched suspiciously as the page count kept dwindling with no mention of the fire. The fire is IMO the most exciting part of the story, and I was shocked to find out that it's confined to the very last paragraph of the book. I'd been imagining all the beautiful prose Du Maurier would use to describe Manderley in flames, but we don't get any of that.
I don't know, I just didn't super jibe with Du Maurier's writing. It's missing something I can't quite put my finger on. Not one of my favorite classics.
Maybe I would've liked it more if I weren't already very familiar with the story, having seen the stage play and one of the film adaptations. I love the premise of being haunted by a lover's universally-beloved ex and tortured by the constant comparisons, but the plot feels a bit threadbare and I was fairly bored throughout. There were definitely moments where I connected with the protagonist's musings on behavior and societal expectations, and those were probably my favorite parts of the book.
I'm not sure what the takeaway message is meant to be. Are we supposed to be rooting for the main character and her relationship with Maxim? Is it meant to be a critique of the blind eye we often turn to the faults of those we love? Is it a commentary on how much more harshly misbehaving women are punished than misbehaving men? Are we meant to condemn or admire Rebecca? Are we meant to condemn or admire the main character? Is Maxim meant to be viewed as a sympathetic character or as a
I also don't think I'm a big fan of detective novels that are single-mindedly focused on solving a solitary crime, and that's essentially what the last part of the book turns into. I found the ending to be jarringly abrupt and anticlimactic.
I don't know, I just didn't super jibe with Du Maurier's writing. It's missing something I can't quite put my finger on. Not one of my favorite classics.
The Winter People by Jennifer McMahon
2.0
I went into this one really wanting some good spooky snowy New England vibes, and they were definitely there, but not enough. I wanted more eeriness, more horror, more ghosts; this book just didn't scare me in the slightest.
Sarah's "diary" was suspiciously written just like the rest of the book and not at all like a diary, especially not one from 1908. The writing felt disorganized and disjointed. Keeping track of the different perspectives and timelines and how much each of the characters knew at any given time was unnecessarily confusing. About 60% into the book the plot becomes a bit too far-fetched, and the characters make some really silly decisions.
I also thought it was gross that the ultimate villain turns out to bethe "mystical" Native American woman . Her acts of revenge that set everything in motion seemed implausible, nonsensical and totally out of character.
*Listened to audiobook
Sarah's "diary" was suspiciously written just like the rest of the book and not at all like a diary, especially not one from 1908. The writing felt disorganized and disjointed. Keeping track of the different perspectives and timelines and how much each of the characters knew at any given time was unnecessarily confusing. About 60% into the book the plot becomes a bit too far-fetched, and the characters make some really silly decisions.
I also thought it was gross that the ultimate villain turns out to be
*Listened to audiobook
No Exit by Taylor Adams
3.0
If you want an entertaining, fast-paced audiobook for a Christmas road trip, look no further--just be prepared to yell at the book and its protagonist a few times. THERE'S NO WAY HER PHONE BATTERY LASTED THAT LONG.
*Listened to audiobook
*Listened to audiobook
The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins
3.0
I'm always down for a dark & gritty read, especially one written by a woman, so I loved the atmosphere of this book. Hawkins also does a great job of creating a frustrating but very sympathetic protagonist. However, this book feels like it's lacking some bite and depth. I just wanted more––in general, but especially from the Big Reveal. Rachel's alcoholism/blackouts are overused as a plot device. Nearly all the reveals in the book come from her just randomly and conveniently remembering something, and I didn't buy it. It's an entertaining little thriller, but it doesn't quite pack the punch I was hoping for.
I also reeeeally could have done without everyone calling Rachel ugly and disgusting and unworthy of love or sexual attention for having put on a few pounds. What is it with the obsessive fixation on weight in British media? I'm well aware that American media suffers from this ailment as well, but I've noticed that overweight people (even very slightly overweight people) are often treated ATROCIOUSLY in British shows/books/movies. See also: Love Actually. If you have to resort to fat-shaming your characters, you should probably reevaluate your writing.
I also reeeeally could have done without everyone calling Rachel ugly and disgusting and unworthy of love or sexual attention for having put on a few pounds. What is it with the obsessive fixation on weight in British media? I'm well aware that American media suffers from this ailment as well, but I've noticed that overweight people (even very slightly overweight people) are often treated ATROCIOUSLY in British shows/books/movies. See also: Love Actually. If you have to resort to fat-shaming your characters, you should probably reevaluate your writing.