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cassieyorke's reviews
72 reviews
Andújar: The Robot Gentleman of San Juan by Carolina Cardona
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Forget boring airships over dreary London. Forget moustached fops in brass goggles. Forget bleak settings and books with overblown titles, forget stories about yet another quirky magical school lady with a parasol. Forget *brown*. Give me color and life and wit! Give me steampunk in bright settings, like sunny San Juan under the looming threat of the Spanish-American War!
And give me literary flair like Carolina Cardona can deliver.
I've always loved steampunk - the idea of it, anyway - but steampunk books always put me to sleep. So many tropes done to death, so much storytelling as bland as the settings, so little color. I'd quite given up on steampunk. And then I found Andujar.
From the first lines I read, I knew Andujar was different. Cardona takes us to balmy Puerto Rico in 1898, in the heady days of Hearst and nascent American imperialism. To the protagonists, though, the coming war might as well be on the moon - far more important things are afoot. It's the social season, and Lady Violeta Andujar has arrived in San Juan to seize the city with more ruthless efficiency than any American army. Yes, there's that matter of her engagement to the very eligible industrial heir Eduardo Axtameyer, but Violeta has more pressing concerns: parties, galas, flirting, sexual conquests, political maneuvering, arranging marriages for every aristocrat in the Caribbean - and the Andujar estate, occupied only by that eccentric shut-in, Conde Santos Andujar, technically the heir to said estate. It's all the same to Violeta - she'll sweep into the dreary mansion at Norzagaray, pull back the curtains, let the sun in, get the place cleaned up, and turn it into her own noble court from which to rule the island and enact her plans. But those plans don't include one tricky little variable - Santos himself, for whom she discovers the most petulant disdain and fascination. And the more she discovers about the man under the black coat and mask - however much "man" is left in there - the more fascinated she becomes. The shallowest girl of the old Spanish Caribbean aristocracy falls for the least likely person in the entire world. A person whose physical nature is stranger than anyone could possibly comprehend.
I started the book despising Violeta - this shallow, petulant little narcissist - but I ended the book loving her deeply. Masks are a motif Cardona uses a lot in this book, and it's really fitting. Each character wears a mask in their own world *and* to the reader, but in time events will demand they shed those masks and reveal human beings of surprising depth and complexity. You find yourself cheering unlikely allies when the unthinkable happens, and the people who seem the most like friends turn out to be real bastards. I think I have a thing for aristocratic girls that seem insufferable but end up revealing deep stores of courage, resolve, and loyalty - even valor. Violeta fit that for me.
Cardona's writing is quirky, witty, droll, funny, charming - full of funny little turns of phrase that caught me off guard and helped build an overall vibe reminiscent of Good Omens or Tim Burton - the latter of which she actually cites as an influence. Most steampunk stories do their best to emulate late 19th century writing and end up feeling modern and samey. Cardona doesn't bother with much of this. She uses 19th century flavor where she needs to, where it will contribute to the overall flavor and verisimilitude of the story, but she scorns modern trends and blazes her own trail. Her own robotic creation is one of many parts - Neil Gaiman, anime and otaku vibes (the end of the book feels far more anime than steampunk!), time travel, bleeding-edge sci-fi, Edwardian romance, geopolitics and diplomacy and war. The machine is so many different things, all at the same time. The most important to *me*, though, the thing that really kept me reading, was literary fiction. It takes a gifted storyteller to mix all these "pulpy" elements with beautiful literary fiction, but Carolina does it. It takes a certain kind of talent to wear all those hats and still write sophisticated prose that doesn't just copy someone else, that stands on its own as a literary work. (I should know. I've actually tried it. It's REALLY HARD.)
Andujar is a creation all its own, a thing of many parts that have come together with personality and wit and charm - and a certain unpretentious literary talent that lends beauty to the whole without trying to draw attention to itself. The steampunk mask is formidable, but under that mask is a beautiful soul waiting to be discovered, if the right kind of person comes searching and is able to see the right things.
And give me literary flair like Carolina Cardona can deliver.
I've always loved steampunk - the idea of it, anyway - but steampunk books always put me to sleep. So many tropes done to death, so much storytelling as bland as the settings, so little color. I'd quite given up on steampunk. And then I found Andujar.
From the first lines I read, I knew Andujar was different. Cardona takes us to balmy Puerto Rico in 1898, in the heady days of Hearst and nascent American imperialism. To the protagonists, though, the coming war might as well be on the moon - far more important things are afoot. It's the social season, and Lady Violeta Andujar has arrived in San Juan to seize the city with more ruthless efficiency than any American army. Yes, there's that matter of her engagement to the very eligible industrial heir Eduardo Axtameyer, but Violeta has more pressing concerns: parties, galas, flirting, sexual conquests, political maneuvering, arranging marriages for every aristocrat in the Caribbean - and the Andujar estate, occupied only by that eccentric shut-in, Conde Santos Andujar, technically the heir to said estate. It's all the same to Violeta - she'll sweep into the dreary mansion at Norzagaray, pull back the curtains, let the sun in, get the place cleaned up, and turn it into her own noble court from which to rule the island and enact her plans. But those plans don't include one tricky little variable - Santos himself, for whom she discovers the most petulant disdain and fascination. And the more she discovers about the man under the black coat and mask - however much "man" is left in there - the more fascinated she becomes. The shallowest girl of the old Spanish Caribbean aristocracy falls for the least likely person in the entire world. A person whose physical nature is stranger than anyone could possibly comprehend.
I started the book despising Violeta - this shallow, petulant little narcissist - but I ended the book loving her deeply. Masks are a motif Cardona uses a lot in this book, and it's really fitting. Each character wears a mask in their own world *and* to the reader, but in time events will demand they shed those masks and reveal human beings of surprising depth and complexity. You find yourself cheering unlikely allies when the unthinkable happens, and the people who seem the most like friends turn out to be real bastards. I think I have a thing for aristocratic girls that seem insufferable but end up revealing deep stores of courage, resolve, and loyalty - even valor. Violeta fit that for me.
Cardona's writing is quirky, witty, droll, funny, charming - full of funny little turns of phrase that caught me off guard and helped build an overall vibe reminiscent of Good Omens or Tim Burton - the latter of which she actually cites as an influence. Most steampunk stories do their best to emulate late 19th century writing and end up feeling modern and samey. Cardona doesn't bother with much of this. She uses 19th century flavor where she needs to, where it will contribute to the overall flavor and verisimilitude of the story, but she scorns modern trends and blazes her own trail. Her own robotic creation is one of many parts - Neil Gaiman, anime and otaku vibes (the end of the book feels far more anime than steampunk!), time travel, bleeding-edge sci-fi, Edwardian romance, geopolitics and diplomacy and war. The machine is so many different things, all at the same time. The most important to *me*, though, the thing that really kept me reading, was literary fiction. It takes a gifted storyteller to mix all these "pulpy" elements with beautiful literary fiction, but Carolina does it. It takes a certain kind of talent to wear all those hats and still write sophisticated prose that doesn't just copy someone else, that stands on its own as a literary work. (I should know. I've actually tried it. It's REALLY HARD.)
Andujar is a creation all its own, a thing of many parts that have come together with personality and wit and charm - and a certain unpretentious literary talent that lends beauty to the whole without trying to draw attention to itself. The steampunk mask is formidable, but under that mask is a beautiful soul waiting to be discovered, if the right kind of person comes searching and is able to see the right things.
The Tales of Astro Cat by Davis Horner
5.0
What Dave and Kathleen Horner have done is to give us one of life's simplest joys - a cozy curl-up-in-a-blanket storybook, appropriate for all ages and tastes. And yet, so few authors manage to achieve this with the warm humor and quiet decorum that they have here.
My own sense of nostalgia with this book comes from the fact that Kathleen Horner's illustrations take me back to the Quest For Glory days of my childhood. I can't look at any of her lovely artwork without hearing the VGA-era sound effects of that colorful first game, without seeing the tails of the cats flicking back and forth every now and then while you stand around and figure out where to go. That's where the book really comes alive for me. But even if I hadn't had that experience, I'd still want this book on my shelf for those days when life gets to be too much, when everything else is too heavy. This is comfortable and heart-warming and entirely missing so many of those elements - like disasters or violence or grief - that can topple a fragile mood.
This is a delightfully-written tale with nostalgic imagery that hearkens back to the glory days of 90s RPGs, and I'm proud to know the authors. They're fantastic people, every bit as warm and kind as the themes they write about.
My own sense of nostalgia with this book comes from the fact that Kathleen Horner's illustrations take me back to the Quest For Glory days of my childhood. I can't look at any of her lovely artwork without hearing the VGA-era sound effects of that colorful first game, without seeing the tails of the cats flicking back and forth every now and then while you stand around and figure out where to go. That's where the book really comes alive for me. But even if I hadn't had that experience, I'd still want this book on my shelf for those days when life gets to be too much, when everything else is too heavy. This is comfortable and heart-warming and entirely missing so many of those elements - like disasters or violence or grief - that can topple a fragile mood.
This is a delightfully-written tale with nostalgic imagery that hearkens back to the glory days of 90s RPGs, and I'm proud to know the authors. They're fantastic people, every bit as warm and kind as the themes they write about.
11/22/63 by Stephen King
5.0
Gripping, heart-wrenching, grim - an emotional rollercoaster. Despite long stretches of describing Cold War-era surveillance that aren't the most interesting episodes in the book, Stephen King constructs a masterful framework for imagining *clearly* what a long-term jaunt to the past would be like. It's really exciting.