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courtneydoss's reviews
777 reviews
Fugitive Pieces by Lord Byron
emotional
funny
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0
House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin A. Craig
adventurous
dark
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage by Lord Byron
adventurous
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch by Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman
4.0
Neil Gaiman is an old favorite of mine. American Gods, Coraline, Stardust, all of these titles and more happily keep company with each other on my Kindle. I appreciate his style; the biting wit, the vaguely absurd humor, and the simple, effectiveness of his prose. He is a talented writer, so I knew going in that Good Omens was going to be something I'd enjoy. However, up until this point, I had never read anything by Terry Pratchett, so I was eager to get a feel for an author that I've seen so highly praised.
Good Omens is a humorous tale of a mismatched group of people, angels, demons, and personified concepts attempting to facilitate (or halt) the end of the world. Throughout, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman poke fun at the concept of good versus evil, at Christianity and witchcraft and Satanism. In line with typical heavy-handed satire, the pair of writers hit you over the head with their message; that humanity is all that is good or evil in the world, and that the real apocalypse comes from the indifference of man to their impact on the world as a whole. Considering the state of the world at the moment, where the environmental disasters mentioned in this book have hit a much more urgent danger level, the message of human indifference is particularly timely.
Gaiman and Pratchett wrote well together; the cohesion among all the different parts of this novel make it impossible to decipher what was written by Gaiman and what was written by Pratchett. The story is a decent one, but I think the best part about it all was the names. Seriously, I loved the names in this book, although only as they appear in fiction. Anathema Device, Newt Pulsifer , Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery Pulsifer , and of course, good ole Agnes Nutter. I love the names so much. They make for delightfully memorable people, even if the absurdity takes away from realism. Honestly, I've never read anything by Gaiman expecting realism anyway, so I don't mind.
I rated Good Omens as 4-stars because I thought it was a very readable, entertaining book. However, as with a lot of stuff that is written for laughs, there is a distinct lack of depth to the characters. They are written to be very one-note caricatures, and the fact that the book jumps around to follow so many people makes it hard to see anything in them beyond their singular purpose. I prefer my apocalyptic books to deal with the internal dramas of people in the midst of the end of the world, but this book is more action than feelings based. That's not a bad thing, but it does weaken the book when it comes to my personal enjoyment.
Good Omens is a humorous tale of a mismatched group of people, angels, demons, and personified concepts attempting to facilitate (or halt) the end of the world. Throughout, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman poke fun at the concept of good versus evil, at Christianity and witchcraft and Satanism. In line with typical heavy-handed satire, the pair of writers hit you over the head with their message; that humanity is all that is good or evil in the world, and that the real apocalypse comes from the indifference of man to their impact on the world as a whole. Considering the state of the world at the moment, where the environmental disasters mentioned in this book have hit a much more urgent danger level, the message of human indifference is particularly timely.
Gaiman and Pratchett wrote well together; the cohesion among all the different parts of this novel make it impossible to decipher what was written by Gaiman and what was written by Pratchett. The story is a decent one, but I think the best part about it all was the names. Seriously, I loved the names in this book, although only as they appear in fiction. Anathema Device, Newt Pulsifer , Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery Pulsifer , and of course, good ole Agnes Nutter. I love the names so much. They make for delightfully memorable people, even if the absurdity takes away from realism. Honestly, I've never read anything by Gaiman expecting realism anyway, so I don't mind.
I rated Good Omens as 4-stars because I thought it was a very readable, entertaining book. However, as with a lot of stuff that is written for laughs, there is a distinct lack of depth to the characters. They are written to be very one-note caricatures, and the fact that the book jumps around to follow so many people makes it hard to see anything in them beyond their singular purpose. I prefer my apocalyptic books to deal with the internal dramas of people in the midst of the end of the world, but this book is more action than feelings based. That's not a bad thing, but it does weaken the book when it comes to my personal enjoyment.
The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty
5.0
“The Husband’s Secret” exemplifies to me what I’ve always liked about Liane Moriarty. The characters are so incredibly ordinary and yet their plights are so out there that they pull you in. This book follows the lives of three separate woman, and honestly one of them was sort of unnecessary. Her primary purpose was to serve as a deus ex machina to orchestrate climactic scenes. The same character’s ending was the exact opposite of what I wanted for her, but I won’t waste much time ranting about that. Instead, I’ll focus on how well done the stories of the other two main characters were. The tale of a lost child and a mother’s grief was moving. The story of a married couple grappling with the realization that they aren’t exactly the people they thought they were was interesting and realistic. The climax to this story made me gasp aloud, because there was a very real emotional investment in this story. I particularly enjoyed the overarching theme of mistakes and consequences; of choosing which mistakes define us and whether they should blemish an otherwise perfectly reasonable life. The epilogue in particular was amazing. I enjoyed it immensely.
The Hunger by Alma Katsu
3.0
Oh boy. I don't know where to start with this one, because there is so much to unpack here. There was quite a bit that I liked about it, but in equal measure there was a lot that I didn't like. It is wonderfully readable, and provides a lot of historical substance. Unlike other historical fiction I have recently read, this book was thoroughly researched, and the author had a solid grasp on the topic. However, as with all historical fiction, there were some liberties taken with the characterization of the party, and with the events that happened during that time, that seemed to me unnecessary for the plot.
This novel by Alma Katsu centers around the ill-fated Donner Party. Departing from Springfield and heading west to California, the caravan finds themselves slowly dwindling in numbers, falling behind schedule, and running short of food. Eventually becoming snowed in without any hope of survival, the remaining members of the party had to resort to eating the dead. A gruesome, and true, story that hardly needs the embellishment. However, The Hunger reimagines the already horrific events to include a mysterious, supernatural element that personifies the horrible fate that awaits them at the end of the road.
The Hunger came to my attention through a Goodreads group called Horror Aficionados, and so I expected a lot more horror out of this than I got. Sure, there is the terrifying Big Bad that I will only vaguely refer to in order to avoid spoilers, but the nature of said Big Bad is explained again and again, to the point that the reader can no longer share in the main characters' blind terror. The fear comes from the unknown, from not understanding what is going on. Alma Katsu spells it out for you, and then does it a few more times just in case you're too dense to pick it up the first time. The way she hammers in the scary elements is anything but. It serves to make the reader an outsider, instead of allowing them to be sucked in. My reactions to the terrifying events were more akin to watching a slasher film. "Don't go that way, dummy!"
As I've said in other reviews, I don't really appreciate it when authors take liberties as to the personalities of regular people in a way that is derogatory or negative. Reading books about people who were well known at the time of their death, and therefore had more documented proof of their lives is different somehow to manufacturing an idea about a person who was just an average Joe in life. This is particularly icky to me when said average Joe died a horrible, terrifying death like the people of the Donner party did. It feels disrespectful, and needlessly hurtful. I understand that there have to be heroes and villains, tension to make the story readable. All of that is understandable. But when the characters of the dead are slandered in a way that in no way serves the plot, it gives me the heebie jeebies. For a more specific accounting of the things I took issue with, you can check read the spoiler below.
Anyway, this book was good enough for me to read in a single day. It's just not what I expected.
This novel by Alma Katsu centers around the ill-fated Donner Party. Departing from Springfield and heading west to California, the caravan finds themselves slowly dwindling in numbers, falling behind schedule, and running short of food. Eventually becoming snowed in without any hope of survival, the remaining members of the party had to resort to eating the dead. A gruesome, and true, story that hardly needs the embellishment. However, The Hunger reimagines the already horrific events to include a mysterious, supernatural element that personifies the horrible fate that awaits them at the end of the road.
The Hunger came to my attention through a Goodreads group called Horror Aficionados, and so I expected a lot more horror out of this than I got. Sure, there is the terrifying Big Bad that I will only vaguely refer to in order to avoid spoilers, but the nature of said Big Bad is explained again and again, to the point that the reader can no longer share in the main characters' blind terror. The fear comes from the unknown, from not understanding what is going on. Alma Katsu spells it out for you, and then does it a few more times just in case you're too dense to pick it up the first time. The way she hammers in the scary elements is anything but. It serves to make the reader an outsider, instead of allowing them to be sucked in. My reactions to the terrifying events were more akin to watching a slasher film. "Don't go that way, dummy!"
As I've said in other reviews, I don't really appreciate it when authors take liberties as to the personalities of regular people in a way that is derogatory or negative. Reading books about people who were well known at the time of their death, and therefore had more documented proof of their lives is different somehow to manufacturing an idea about a person who was just an average Joe in life. This is particularly icky to me when said average Joe died a horrible, terrifying death like the people of the Donner party did. It feels disrespectful, and needlessly hurtful. I understand that there have to be heroes and villains, tension to make the story readable. All of that is understandable. But when the characters of the dead are slandered in a way that in no way serves the plot, it gives me the heebie jeebies. For a more specific accounting of the things I took issue with, you can check read the spoiler below.
Spoiler
In my research I can't find any information that supports the assertion that Tamsen Donner was in love with her brother. Nor could I find anything about Lewis Keseberg being a child molester. Sure, from what I could find he was a bit of a dick on the trail, but there is a fine line between the things he is known to be done and being an all out child rapist.Anyway, this book was good enough for me to read in a single day. It's just not what I expected.
Pet Sematary by Stephen King
4.0
"Sometimes dead is better."
My parents were incredibly liberal with the type of content they allowed my sister and I to watch when we were children. For that reason, Stephen King's It was my favorite movie from the ages of 4-5. For whatever reason, a killer clown with a penchant for terrorizing children didn't scare me. Zelda from Pet Sematary scared me.
I think that everybody has at least a little bit of fear when it comes to death. The idea of ceasing to be, at least in the physical sense is very scary. It goes against every instinct we have to roll over and accept it. However, knowing that it is something that we will all have to face, reading about Zelda's death was really disturbing because it could easily be me. The knowledge that there will come a day where I will be in pain, I will be helpless, and there will be no hope in my heart that I will one day be better is terrifying. Like, pants-shittingly terrifying. Obviously not all deaths are that horrendous, but our death is one of the few things in life that we have absolutely no control over and no way out of. You get the hand you're dealt, and I pray like hell that my hand doesn't suck as bad as Zelda's did.
I think what makes this book all the more upsetting, if not scary, is that it forces us to consider the deaths of our loved ones, and the absolute powerlessness that we will feel during that time. I have been lucky enough to have avoided the loss of anybody super close with me. Outside of a few influential grandparents, there have been no deaths and certainly none unexpected. Although not a parent, I have animals and the thought of them one day dying is scary to me. If I had a magical burial ground in my backyard, I can't guarantee that I wouldn't use it to bring my animals back, even if it did make them smell like the grave.
This book was pretty good, but it didn't scare me in the way I wanted to be scared. Yes, it made me think about scary things, and maybe that's what people mean when they say a book is scary, but I didn't think that any of the scenes in the book were particularly frightening. The closest that it got was the mentions of my girl Zelda, that spooky bitch that haunts my nightmares. But still, it wasn't that bad.
My parents were incredibly liberal with the type of content they allowed my sister and I to watch when we were children. For that reason, Stephen King's It was my favorite movie from the ages of 4-5. For whatever reason, a killer clown with a penchant for terrorizing children didn't scare me. Zelda from Pet Sematary scared me.
I think that everybody has at least a little bit of fear when it comes to death. The idea of ceasing to be, at least in the physical sense is very scary. It goes against every instinct we have to roll over and accept it. However, knowing that it is something that we will all have to face, reading about Zelda's death was really disturbing because it could easily be me. The knowledge that there will come a day where I will be in pain, I will be helpless, and there will be no hope in my heart that I will one day be better is terrifying. Like, pants-shittingly terrifying. Obviously not all deaths are that horrendous, but our death is one of the few things in life that we have absolutely no control over and no way out of. You get the hand you're dealt, and I pray like hell that my hand doesn't suck as bad as Zelda's did.
I think what makes this book all the more upsetting, if not scary, is that it forces us to consider the deaths of our loved ones, and the absolute powerlessness that we will feel during that time. I have been lucky enough to have avoided the loss of anybody super close with me. Outside of a few influential grandparents, there have been no deaths and certainly none unexpected. Although not a parent, I have animals and the thought of them one day dying is scary to me. If I had a magical burial ground in my backyard, I can't guarantee that I wouldn't use it to bring my animals back, even if it did make them smell like the grave.
This book was pretty good, but it didn't scare me in the way I wanted to be scared. Yes, it made me think about scary things, and maybe that's what people mean when they say a book is scary, but I didn't think that any of the scenes in the book were particularly frightening. The closest that it got was the mentions of my girl Zelda, that spooky bitch that haunts my nightmares. But still, it wasn't that bad.
Beloved by Toni Morrison
5.0
I think that this might be one of the saddest books that I have ever read. Pain falls from the pages like sticky syrup, onto your fingers and up your forearms. It stains your skin and leaves a hollowness in you that can never be filled. It is a ghost story, but more than that it is a story about the horror of slavery, and the ways it affected the minds of those brutalized by it. Toni Morrison, as a black woman, sings the tragedy of her ancestors; those whose stories she could never know. Through Sethe and Denver and Baby Suggs, she pays tribute to those that history has forgotten and reminds all who read it that while the body may be freed, the mind remains in chains.
What fascinates me about Beloved is that it is one of the only ghost stories that centralizes a black person. Last year I read one of my favorite non-fiction books entitled Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places. It was a thoroughly researched study on American folklore and the way our ghost stories speak to the values of our culture. One observation in this book was that the enslavement of black people and the genocide of Native Americans are often overlooked in our folklore.
In that book, Colin Dickey argues this point by referencing the ghost tour circuit in a port city that was once the largest market for enslaved Africans. As a city whose history is centered around the brutal dehumanization of black people, these ghost tours are distinctly lacking in black ghosts. In places where black ghosts are present in tours, they are often fictionalized stories that perpetuate stereotypes about black men and women; the Jezebel or Mammy archetypes given a name and tragic backstory that is entirely made up. Beloved is nothing like these stories. It is so much more humanizing, so much more heartfelt than any of that, and that is why it is such a classic.
Although this story focuses on the physical manifestation of a child ghost in the little home of Sethe and her daughter Denver, it really tells the story of a woman grappling with the trauma of her past, and the way that trauma drives a wedge between her and her born-free daughter. It analyzes the way trauma slithers like a snake through multiple generations, and lingers in the blood like a virus -- effecting the descendants of those who were enslaved long after the institution itself had been abolished.
I think this book, in this day and age (and maybe forever), should be required reading for every non-black person in America. There are so many people in this country who have pulled the wool over their eyes and deliberately ignored the ways institutionalized racism has effected our nation. In Beloved, Toni Morrison describes a character's walk away from slavery when they were finally, legally freed; the bodies of black men, women, and children littering the side of the roadways, because the white people of the time would rather they be dead than free. It is a powerful reminder that while slavery itself may have ended, the cultural opinions that paved the way for it to happen in the first place didn't just disappear.
This book is an emotionally difficult read, but I think that it is worth it. 5-stars, all the way.
What fascinates me about Beloved is that it is one of the only ghost stories that centralizes a black person. Last year I read one of my favorite non-fiction books entitled Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places. It was a thoroughly researched study on American folklore and the way our ghost stories speak to the values of our culture. One observation in this book was that the enslavement of black people and the genocide of Native Americans are often overlooked in our folklore.
In that book, Colin Dickey argues this point by referencing the ghost tour circuit in a port city that was once the largest market for enslaved Africans. As a city whose history is centered around the brutal dehumanization of black people, these ghost tours are distinctly lacking in black ghosts. In places where black ghosts are present in tours, they are often fictionalized stories that perpetuate stereotypes about black men and women; the Jezebel or Mammy archetypes given a name and tragic backstory that is entirely made up. Beloved is nothing like these stories. It is so much more humanizing, so much more heartfelt than any of that, and that is why it is such a classic.
Although this story focuses on the physical manifestation of a child ghost in the little home of Sethe and her daughter Denver, it really tells the story of a woman grappling with the trauma of her past, and the way that trauma drives a wedge between her and her born-free daughter. It analyzes the way trauma slithers like a snake through multiple generations, and lingers in the blood like a virus -- effecting the descendants of those who were enslaved long after the institution itself had been abolished.
I think this book, in this day and age (and maybe forever), should be required reading for every non-black person in America. There are so many people in this country who have pulled the wool over their eyes and deliberately ignored the ways institutionalized racism has effected our nation. In Beloved, Toni Morrison describes a character's walk away from slavery when they were finally, legally freed; the bodies of black men, women, and children littering the side of the roadways, because the white people of the time would rather they be dead than free. It is a powerful reminder that while slavery itself may have ended, the cultural opinions that paved the way for it to happen in the first place didn't just disappear.
This book is an emotionally difficult read, but I think that it is worth it. 5-stars, all the way.
Pretty Mess by Erika Jayne
3.0
Another late review. I read this back in March, so this review will be short and sweet.
Real Housewives is a guilty pleasure, and sometimes you feel like reading a memoir written by somebody who has a way better life than you. Erika Jayne is quite the character. She's sassy and kind, but also a bit icy and temperamental. All of that is showcased in this memoir, in which she charts her early days as an aspiring star, waitress, trophy wife, and finally music star/professional reality TV star. What I most appreciated about this memoir was the intimate look into her emotional relationship with her family; from her distant father, critical mother, and her absolute adoration for her son and husband. It was humanizing, and explained a lot about the way she thinks and acts on the show.
Real Housewives is a guilty pleasure, and sometimes you feel like reading a memoir written by somebody who has a way better life than you. Erika Jayne is quite the character. She's sassy and kind, but also a bit icy and temperamental. All of that is showcased in this memoir, in which she charts her early days as an aspiring star, waitress, trophy wife, and finally music star/professional reality TV star. What I most appreciated about this memoir was the intimate look into her emotional relationship with her family; from her distant father, critical mother, and her absolute adoration for her son and husband. It was humanizing, and explained a lot about the way she thinks and acts on the show.