This isn’t a criticism, but I found it to be a little gruesome for a middle grade novel. Then again, I haven’t read many in Swedish yet. Also, there was fairly realistic treatment of living in constant near-starvation. The tension in the story is more with the poverty and powerlessness of the characters, rather than the murder mystery itself.
This is probably a genre characteristic but the resolution just wasn’t compelling, with too much deus ex machina type interventions ensuring the characters got to the end in one piece. Still, nothing bad happened to the cat (Lucifer), which you can never take for granted when reading Swedish fiction.
Also, “rat king” should get its own content warning category.
It was, in a word, epic. It took a little bit for me to get into it, but I think that is natural with a book that has such complex and original world-building. I found myself quite compelled by some of the characters and their struggles. I am keen to know how things develop but determined to resist spoilers.
I was in the mood for an academia mystery/thriller and this book did not disappoint. It was fairly engrossing and I listened to it in just a few days. It is one of those books, though, that the more I think about it the less satisfying the ending becomes. Still, I look forward to reading more by the author. And it was a thoughtful treatment of racism, privilege, and misogyny in the backdrop of a campus murder mystery.
Published in 1969, it is a work of its time. The author, who made Aliyah, rides on the wave of euphoria that followed establishing the state of Israel and winning the Six Day War. There is no way to sugarcoat the defeat of Bar Kochba, nor does the author try to, but he does situate it into a narrative of Jewish endurance and ultimate triumph. The Romans are gone, but two millennia later, we remain, and we remember. It was interesting to read a narrativization of these historical events and especially to see Rabbi Akiva and his fellow sages in action. However, the book itself has a few problematic aspects that interfere with my appreciation. First of all, the characterization of the Hellenized Romans as morally degenerate is obviously homophonic, as is the villain of the story, Rufus. I personally found the division of good, noble Romans bent on destroying the Jews versus villainous, sadistic Romans bent on destroying the Jews to be kind of annoying and pointless. Why the need to romanticize the Romans at all?
There were at least a few anachronisms that I caught, and I’m sure plenty that I didn’t. There is a mention of foot binding in China but that didn’t begin for at least a thousand years. Simon’s son has a godparent, but surely that is a Christian practice? Also, I thought it was Hillel the second who fixed the calendar, not Akiba.
The most cringeworthy quote is from Mariamne, a Hellenized Jew from Alexandria, on her joy at being Simon’s wife : “… I am happy. I am Simon’s wife, his lady, his concubine, his property, and I have never been happier. This, it appears, is my freedom.” Perhaps the author was trying to be authentic to the time, or maybe he’s just plain sexist?
The author was telling a grand and epic story of ideas, while inserting as much historical detail as he could muster. As a result, his characters come across as flat. Still, I think he accomplished what he intended to, in that the book is an expression of his worldview. I don’t recommend this book unless someone is particularly interested in narrativizations of Jewish history from an analytical perspective, rather than reading enjoyment.
The third book of the series was a more enjoyable read for me. I think I need to reconcile myself to the fact that this probably isn’t going to be my favorite Seanan McGuire series, and that’s okay. I like the world building and the characters, but the shorter format and the more didactic narrative voice make it less escapist and engrossing for me. Still, looking forward to the next book.
I love pretty much everything Seanan McGuire writes, but I admit the first book in this series wasn’t my favorite. Maybe it is worth a re-listen, because all the while I had trouble distinguishing Jack and Jill, who are the protagonists in this second book. I like that it is narrated by the author herself. It was kind of hard for me to get into, with the fairy tale and didactic style of narration, even though I usually like stories like that. Maybe it was just my mood. It is creepy and more than a little bit gruesome, but again that normally wouldn’t bother me. So I admit I didn’t enjoy it, but I’m giving it four stars because I love the author and it was well-conceived.
One of my top two least favorite high fantasies I’ve yet encountered. Tedious, derivative, and the writing could use some editing and imagination. Memorable only for the frustration I put myself through listening to it.
I find Micah Goodman to be a moderate, thoughtful speaker so I thought I would read this book even though it is painfully outdated since October 7. Goodman works in terms of broad conceptualizations and categorizations, which leaves many of his claims open to dispute. The essence of his recommendations is similarly broad, but worth heeding: “thinking in degrees,” not dichotomies. His goal isn’t so much to solve the Catch-67, but to call for a shift in the terms of the discourse within Israeli society. His constant refrain can be summarized as: The left and the right are both correct, but they are also both wrong. He encourages a move away from binary thinking, away from thinking in terms of perfect solutions rather than partial improvements, and a move away from the toxicity of discourse that prevents people from talking to each other at all. Since October 7, there are even deeper fractures in Israeli society, the whole right vs left divide has shifted, and the discourse is even more toxic and filled with misinformation. Still, it would be nice to envision a future in which, like the Houses of Hillel and Shammai, people who disagree fundamentally can at least talk, and be open to the idea of not having all the answers themselves.
This is a poignant, well-crafted story of four generations of Sephardic Jews, starting with a family who fled during the Spanish Expulsion. Behar covers a lot of geographic historical and emotional territory. The separate narratives are tied together by the recurring theme of Ladino music, especially “En la mar hay una torre.” The stories contain loss and tragedy, but the book ends on a heartwarming, life-affirming note that is a little too neat and sweet for my taste but probably just right for the intended audience.
I skipped a bunch of books in the series and read this one, for random reasons. I still think the series is worth reading. There’s plenty of heart and compassion in the writing. Occasionally cringey, depending on my mood, but more thoughtfully conceived than a lot of mysteries and cozies I read.
Spoiler ahead: I could have done without the Schrödinger’s Nazi storyline. In the end it seemed the character was vindicated, but I find it emotionally manipulative - either we are being asked on faith to believe that a good character couldn’t have a Nazi past, or to believe that a Nazi could achieve redemption through a lifetime of goodness (and no accountability for his crimes). The author didn’t go down that path, but the question was hanging in the air for a while. Also, there was a strange parallel drawn between collaborators during the war and collaborators in corporate crimes.