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richardrbecker's reviews
521 reviews
Indian Burial Ground by Nick Medina
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
Although I’m less inclined to think of this novel as horror in the most classic sense, Indian Burial Ground captures the atmospheric qualities of the thin layer between the supernatural and psyche, especially as it pertains to Indigenous people, known to give the paranormal more credence. (I recently read The Paranormal Ranger, with real-life accounts that made Indian Burial Ground feel even more plausible.)
It is told from the point of view of two characters — a young woman still hoping to escape the reservation and her Uncle Louie, who did escape the reservation — narrating from different points along a shared 10+ year timeline. Louie shares his experiences as an impressionable but responsible teen who looks after younger kids (Noemi being one of them). Noemi shares her experience after her boyfriend’s apparent suicide, which upends her life.
Louie’s story is significantly more paranormal than Noemi’s, yet both stories inform each other. Just as her boyfriend Roddy’s death doesn’t add up, neither did many of the experiences Louie had in his youth. In fact, his experiences are what prompted him to leave in the first place. And yet, this is not where the novel truly shines.
Medina does an authentic and mindful job of exploring Indigenous addiction and suicide rates and the consequences of these unfortunate and alarming statistics. By doing so, he breathes life into what it might be like to live on a reservation and attempts to find a balance between the modern world and ancient tradition, especially among those who feel trapped between them.
Well worth the read. So glad to hear it was recently short-listed for Superior Achievement in a Novel in the Bram Stocker’s Awards.
It is told from the point of view of two characters — a young woman still hoping to escape the reservation and her Uncle Louie, who did escape the reservation — narrating from different points along a shared 10+ year timeline. Louie shares his experiences as an impressionable but responsible teen who looks after younger kids (Noemi being one of them). Noemi shares her experience after her boyfriend’s apparent suicide, which upends her life.
Louie’s story is significantly more paranormal than Noemi’s, yet both stories inform each other. Just as her boyfriend Roddy’s death doesn’t add up, neither did many of the experiences Louie had in his youth. In fact, his experiences are what prompted him to leave in the first place. And yet, this is not where the novel truly shines.
Medina does an authentic and mindful job of exploring Indigenous addiction and suicide rates and the consequences of these unfortunate and alarming statistics. By doing so, he breathes life into what it might be like to live on a reservation and attempts to find a balance between the modern world and ancient tradition, especially among those who feel trapped between them.
Well worth the read. So glad to hear it was recently short-listed for Superior Achievement in a Novel in the Bram Stocker’s Awards.
Flush by Carl Hiaasen
funny
lighthearted
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? It's complicated
4.0
Flush is a delightfully fun and fast read, like those old young detective novels with a sense of humor. The plot is thin, the stakes are low, and the motivations unclear, but it's reading, and it feels like a summer breeze in any season.
Set in the Florida Keys, Flush is about a kid named Noah whose dad sinks a casino boat because the owner is flushing raw sewage into the harbor. Naturally, there are consequences for his actions because he can't prove the crime is happening (despite floaties along the beach), and sinking boats isn't usually the best way to go about things. His dad, however, is a bit of a blowhard, likening his actions to some of the greatest protests in history. He refuses bail and threatens a hunger strike.
Fortunately, his kids are more sensible. After the boat is raised and reopened for business, Noah and his sister set out to clear their father's name by becoming super sleuths alone (although they recruit a few colorful adult characters). Add in some additional family rivalry (like the owner of the boat's boy is a bully), and Hiaasen does a great job moving the story forward.
Occasionally, the story feels like a light dramedy instead of light comedy, but that is perfectly all right. It's the perfect read when you need a break from heavier reading, and the kind I would have loved reading with my kids when they were younger. If that sounds like what you need, check it out!
Set in the Florida Keys, Flush is about a kid named Noah whose dad sinks a casino boat because the owner is flushing raw sewage into the harbor. Naturally, there are consequences for his actions because he can't prove the crime is happening (despite floaties along the beach), and sinking boats isn't usually the best way to go about things. His dad, however, is a bit of a blowhard, likening his actions to some of the greatest protests in history. He refuses bail and threatens a hunger strike.
Fortunately, his kids are more sensible. After the boat is raised and reopened for business, Noah and his sister set out to clear their father's name by becoming super sleuths alone (although they recruit a few colorful adult characters). Add in some additional family rivalry (like the owner of the boat's boy is a bully), and Hiaasen does a great job moving the story forward.
Occasionally, the story feels like a light dramedy instead of light comedy, but that is perfectly all right. It's the perfect read when you need a break from heavier reading, and the kind I would have loved reading with my kids when they were younger. If that sounds like what you need, check it out!
Bewilderment by Richard Powers
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
Richard Powers writes beautifully, effortlessly tucking in gems that prompt you to write them down, hoping you'll remember them and make them part of your own repertoire of ideas. There is so much about Bewilderment to love, including its overall tone of tenderness.
At the same time, it falls short in so many ways. The protagonist is a scientist who doesn't trust science when it's inconvenient and is a slave to his own insecurities and inaction. As a parent, it is painful watching him fail as a parent, regardless of anyone's assessment of his circumstances.
Theo Byrne is trying to raise his s volatile nine-year-old son Robin, who has been diagnosed with any number of disorders and syndromes, on his own. His wife was killed in a car accident, and he is still unable to cope with her death, let alone care for a child who has special needs. Theo is reluctant to lean on medication (and I don't necessarily blame him), but he isn't willing to enact behavioral boundaries as a parent might who refuses medication. In some cases, he even enables and empowers his son's inability to control his anger, which is most likely triggered by the state of the environment.
Eventually, Theo enrolls Robin in an experimental behavioral modeling program that uses AI to teach subjects how to control their behavior. However, he first stunts the program's success by being skeptical of its principal, who happened to have a past relationship with Theo's dead wife. Theo also questions the science of neurofeedback and worries over his boy being exploited, but then laments the loss of the program when the government shuts it down.
The program's shutdown isn't unexpected, as it is the nature of government that Powers has created for his characters in the near-future dystopia. Powers punctuate the tangible fears of those who care for the environment by pushing the boundaries of the current climate crisis to its worst outcome. The word is dying at an even faster pace, still ignored, while a totalitarian regime has taken hold of the United States, going so far as to overturn an election to retain power. Sigh.
All of this is fair in fiction, but it's difficult to sympathize with Theo because he cannot see his own hypocrisy on so many levels. On the one hand, it's a tender story about a father's love for his son. But on the other, Theo exhibits behavior akin to Munchausen's Syndrome, isolating himself and his boy on the premise that insulation is the only remedy for him and his son. Add to it the heaviest-handed foreshadowing I've read in recent history, and Powers inserts a spoiler for his book very early. It was impossible not to spot. There is only one way this will end.
Still, as harsh as it sounds and as annoying as Theo can be, the read is worth it because there are people like this in the world, and that is the point of reading — getting to know people beyond our own interactions and experiences. And Theo, as much as I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, is that kind of person. That and, of course, Powers is near-poetic in his prose, a true gift, even if bewilderment leaves you bewildered and a little depressed.
At the same time, it falls short in so many ways. The protagonist is a scientist who doesn't trust science when it's inconvenient and is a slave to his own insecurities and inaction. As a parent, it is painful watching him fail as a parent, regardless of anyone's assessment of his circumstances.
Theo Byrne is trying to raise his s volatile nine-year-old son Robin, who has been diagnosed with any number of disorders and syndromes, on his own. His wife was killed in a car accident, and he is still unable to cope with her death, let alone care for a child who has special needs. Theo is reluctant to lean on medication (and I don't necessarily blame him), but he isn't willing to enact behavioral boundaries as a parent might who refuses medication. In some cases, he even enables and empowers his son's inability to control his anger, which is most likely triggered by the state of the environment.
Eventually, Theo enrolls Robin in an experimental behavioral modeling program that uses AI to teach subjects how to control their behavior. However, he first stunts the program's success by being skeptical of its principal, who happened to have a past relationship with Theo's dead wife. Theo also questions the science of neurofeedback and worries over his boy being exploited, but then laments the loss of the program when the government shuts it down.
The program's shutdown isn't unexpected, as it is the nature of government that Powers has created for his characters in the near-future dystopia. Powers punctuate the tangible fears of those who care for the environment by pushing the boundaries of the current climate crisis to its worst outcome. The word is dying at an even faster pace, still ignored, while a totalitarian regime has taken hold of the United States, going so far as to overturn an election to retain power. Sigh.
All of this is fair in fiction, but it's difficult to sympathize with Theo because he cannot see his own hypocrisy on so many levels. On the one hand, it's a tender story about a father's love for his son. But on the other, Theo exhibits behavior akin to Munchausen's Syndrome, isolating himself and his boy on the premise that insulation is the only remedy for him and his son. Add to it the heaviest-handed foreshadowing I've read in recent history, and Powers inserts a spoiler for his book very early. It was impossible not to spot. There is only one way this will end.
Still, as harsh as it sounds and as annoying as Theo can be, the read is worth it because there are people like this in the world, and that is the point of reading — getting to know people beyond our own interactions and experiences. And Theo, as much as I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, is that kind of person. That and, of course, Powers is near-poetic in his prose, a true gift, even if bewilderment leaves you bewildered and a little depressed.
All That Is by James Salter
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
All That Is reads more like a series of short stories interwoven from one man's life and the lives of those around him. At the center of its 40-year span is protagonist Philip Bowman, WW2 navel officer veteran and book editor for a publishing house. He lived at a time when the publishing world was intimate, houses were quaint, and European travel was relatively common among people of this status.
What stands out is Salter's writing style, which is tight and economical. Each chapter is laid out like its own story, some with questions to ask and others with questions to answer. Readers will never know which to expect, especially as there is no central plot beyond experiencing life as it unfolds and capturing it as evidence that it happened.
There is plenty to take in despite Bowmen's immortal loneliness. His first marriage unsurprisingly fails before he entertains a series of affairs that never coalesce. He meets up with friends, whom we learn a surprising amount about, at parties, over drinks, and in hotel bedrooms. And when he does take it to the bedroom, he reminds us that sex scenes aren't a modern invention but a literary tradition. Perhaps the only difference is their purpose.
He does something in All That Is that many readers don't often appreciate. He looks at someone's life and all the lives he brushes up against and allows us to live it with them. That said, you can learn from it, but don't expect to take much more away than a snapshot of a different time — one that some people genuinely disdain because it carries a waning sense of masculinity with it. Add to that Bwoman's stoicism, likely because he survived the war, and appreciate this is a book about external observation more than internal reflection. You know Bowman, but you never really know him.
I enjoyed it, but I can easily see why some people won't. Perhaps it is too much of the author's book to be read by other authors to be as lasting as his earlier work. But then again, part of me believes that maybe he wrote it more for himself than anyone else. Ergo, he says, "There comes a time when you realize that everything is a dream, and the only things preserved in writing have any possibility of being real." All That Is, it seems to me, is what Salter hoped to preserve, at least for a little while.
What stands out is Salter's writing style, which is tight and economical. Each chapter is laid out like its own story, some with questions to ask and others with questions to answer. Readers will never know which to expect, especially as there is no central plot beyond experiencing life as it unfolds and capturing it as evidence that it happened.
There is plenty to take in despite Bowmen's immortal loneliness. His first marriage unsurprisingly fails before he entertains a series of affairs that never coalesce. He meets up with friends, whom we learn a surprising amount about, at parties, over drinks, and in hotel bedrooms. And when he does take it to the bedroom, he reminds us that sex scenes aren't a modern invention but a literary tradition. Perhaps the only difference is their purpose.
He does something in All That Is that many readers don't often appreciate. He looks at someone's life and all the lives he brushes up against and allows us to live it with them. That said, you can learn from it, but don't expect to take much more away than a snapshot of a different time — one that some people genuinely disdain because it carries a waning sense of masculinity with it. Add to that Bwoman's stoicism, likely because he survived the war, and appreciate this is a book about external observation more than internal reflection. You know Bowman, but you never really know him.
I enjoyed it, but I can easily see why some people won't. Perhaps it is too much of the author's book to be read by other authors to be as lasting as his earlier work. But then again, part of me believes that maybe he wrote it more for himself than anyone else. Ergo, he says, "There comes a time when you realize that everything is a dream, and the only things preserved in writing have any possibility of being real." All That Is, it seems to me, is what Salter hoped to preserve, at least for a little while.
Chapterhouse: Dune by Frank Herbert
adventurous
informative
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
While the last of the Dune books written by Herbert ends on somewhat of a cliffhanger, the tone of Chapterhouse more closely feels like Dune and Dune Messiah despite being a direct follow up to Heretics of Dune.
The novel primarily continues to the conflict between the Bene Gesserit and Honored Matres, who aims to control the universe. Specifically, The Matres seeks to assimilate the Bene Gesserit. They want their technology and their 'magic,' even if they have no hope of truly understanding either. The Spider Queen is as ruthless as the Baron Harkonnen, maybe worse given her jealously and envy of everything she doesn't have or can't control.
At the same time, the Bene Gesserit are terraforming Chapterhouse into a new Dune after The Matres destroyed the original. This transformation, for better or worse, is seen as a necessary step to ensure the survival of the sisterhood.
Herbert also explores several other deep thinking themes related to politics, civilization, historical bias, hybridization, and pushing the boundaries of what it means to be human. (I was especially keen on Herbert's warnings about bureaucracies as I share his view.)
At times, it is interesting and perhaps mischievous for characters in Chapterhouse to discuss the merits of the Golden Path, especially because readers will know more about Leto II's intent than anyone in Chapterhouse. (Unless, of course, you subscribe to the notion he was crazy.) Specifically, according to the God Emperor, there would be no humanity left in the universe had he not set humankind on the Golden Path. But nobody understands it, with some suggesting he forced his own prophecy to come true.
The forever ghola Duncan Idaho returns, along with Murbella. Murbella is the more interesting of the two this time around, but is also central to the one annoyances some Dune readers have the book. Herbert sometimes pushes too hard on the breeding program and sex in general by this stage in the series. He pushes so hard in fact that some might miss that this book is really about rediscovering love and humanity.
All in all, some won't feel like Herbert brought anything new to the table, but I think he adds clarity to many of the topics explored in previous books, and does so at a faster pace with a few dashes of action. I also think Chapterhouse takes a much more sympathetic view of Bene Gesserit. And it left me feeling, despite doubts by the characters in the book, that Leto II did what needed to be done. Sure, Chapterhouse ends with plenty of unanswered questions, but I think Herbert left us enough to draw our own conclusions.
If that doesn't satisfy you, then one can always guess how much Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson got right in Hunters of Dune or Sandworms of Dune. I never intended to read either, but how knows? I might give them a go some time in the distant future. I will say that the series underlying message is clear enough: Charismatic leaders ought to come with warning labels.
The Art of Fiction by James Salter
informative
inspiring
fast-paced
4.5
The Art of Fiction is an amazingly short book—only 77 pages—and includes an introduction by John Casey. The balance of the book, after the introduction, consists of three general lectures on writing that are relatively broad in scope but contain a few gems worth hanging on for a moment. One of my favorites is the last line, taken from his novel, All That Is, which he wanted to call Toda.
"There comes a time when you realize that everything is a dream, and only those things preserved in writing have any possibility of being real." — James Salter
Writing like this recognizes Salter as a lesser-known master of the craft. And it is in these lines, whether mentioned by Casey or Salter that convinced me to keep this book on my shelf. I want to read again, picking out those moments such as "a short story does the work of a novel in 15 pages."
Along with a few gems on writing, especially in the art of taking from our own lives as writers, Salter shares some of the books that influenced him and those he planned to read. I found myself adding several of them to my own TBR pile, hoping they, too, might inspire something more from my work as Salter, John Updike, and Russel Banks have done. Salter would approve, given he believed it was so important to read as a writer.
"Style. Flaubert wanted objectivity and style, the exact choice of the right word." Don't we all. Or maybe some modern authors don't care as much if they can get it down and out. I don't know.
In sum, James Salter's book on writing makes the reader want to be a better writer. Remarkably, he does it in fewer pages than anyone might think possible. I must admit, however, I wanted more.
"There comes a time when you realize that everything is a dream, and only those things preserved in writing have any possibility of being real." — James Salter
Writing like this recognizes Salter as a lesser-known master of the craft. And it is in these lines, whether mentioned by Casey or Salter that convinced me to keep this book on my shelf. I want to read again, picking out those moments such as "a short story does the work of a novel in 15 pages."
Along with a few gems on writing, especially in the art of taking from our own lives as writers, Salter shares some of the books that influenced him and those he planned to read. I found myself adding several of them to my own TBR pile, hoping they, too, might inspire something more from my work as Salter, John Updike, and Russel Banks have done. Salter would approve, given he believed it was so important to read as a writer.
"Style. Flaubert wanted objectivity and style, the exact choice of the right word." Don't we all. Or maybe some modern authors don't care as much if they can get it down and out. I don't know.
In sum, James Salter's book on writing makes the reader want to be a better writer. Remarkably, he does it in fewer pages than anyone might think possible. I must admit, however, I wanted more.
Hinterland by Arno Geiger
dark
informative
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Hinterland by Arno Geiger has a fantastic start before becoming uneven as the story progresses. I immediately took to Veit Kolbe, who was sent home from the front in 1944 after being wounded. The story's authenticity truly struck me, as it mirrored some of the stories my grandmother told me about what it was like surviving in Germany during World War II.
In Kolbe's case, he is suffering from PSTD after five years of combat and has no sympathy for the Nazi party. He doesn't want to return to the war and manages to remain in Mondsee for almost a year. During this time, he falls in love with a married woman named Margot.
Where Geiger loses me in interspersing letters written by secondary characters. While these three varied perspectives are interesting and allow Geiger to share other stories — families lost to bombings, food shortages, schoolboys on anti-aircraft guns, and the escape of one Jewish man with his family — none of them have a same powerful cadence of Kolbe's voice. And while I do appreciate what Geiger attempted to do here, given that the accounts in his book are taken from real documents, it may have been stronger for Geiger to retain his style throughout, allowing the story to unfold a little more evenly. Or, perhaps, he could have introduced these stories differently, fictionalized from Kolbe's point of view.
Still, I'm glad I stumbled into Geiger's work. Even if I cannot read it in original German, his style shines through with the translation. I will undoubtedly give his work another go to remain connected to one thread of my family's heritage. In Hinterland, there is no question he does a great job of capturing the lives of ordinary people during the war, which is precisely what I was looking for in this book. And I would recommend it if you are looking for the same. But as a literary read, I would have enjoyed reading Hinterland as a novella and allowing most of the other stories to stand on their own as a short, as opposed to interruptions that didn't always compel me to pick up the book again (while the other books I was reading did).
In Kolbe's case, he is suffering from PSTD after five years of combat and has no sympathy for the Nazi party. He doesn't want to return to the war and manages to remain in Mondsee for almost a year. During this time, he falls in love with a married woman named Margot.
Where Geiger loses me in interspersing letters written by secondary characters. While these three varied perspectives are interesting and allow Geiger to share other stories — families lost to bombings, food shortages, schoolboys on anti-aircraft guns, and the escape of one Jewish man with his family — none of them have a same powerful cadence of Kolbe's voice. And while I do appreciate what Geiger attempted to do here, given that the accounts in his book are taken from real documents, it may have been stronger for Geiger to retain his style throughout, allowing the story to unfold a little more evenly. Or, perhaps, he could have introduced these stories differently, fictionalized from Kolbe's point of view.
Still, I'm glad I stumbled into Geiger's work. Even if I cannot read it in original German, his style shines through with the translation. I will undoubtedly give his work another go to remain connected to one thread of my family's heritage. In Hinterland, there is no question he does a great job of capturing the lives of ordinary people during the war, which is precisely what I was looking for in this book. And I would recommend it if you are looking for the same. But as a literary read, I would have enjoyed reading Hinterland as a novella and allowing most of the other stories to stand on their own as a short, as opposed to interruptions that didn't always compel me to pick up the book again (while the other books I was reading did).
The Sweet Hereafter by Russell Banks
dark
emotional
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
The Sweet Hereafter centers on a school bus accident in a small town, as told by the first-person accounts of four primary characters: bus driver Dolores Driscoll; garage owner and surviving parent of two children killed in the crash, Billy Ansel; attorney Mitchell Stevens; and a surviving, but crippled by the accident student, Nicole Burnell. The novel is simultaneously sardonic and cathartic, with characters so fully rendered that it's as if you've known them all your life.
While the primary plot deals with the aftermath of the bus going off the road and into the frozen waters of an undrained sand pit in a small town, killing 14 children, The Sweet Hereafter is largely about the hidden motivations of individuals as the town attempts to cope with the accident and consider who to blame. And the life experiences and decisions made by these four primary characters shape the outcome, for better or worse.
A sense of loss and guilt colors Dolores. Billy is tainted by grief, not only from losing his children but his wife five years prior. Mitchell is motivated by his anger at a world that contributed to the alienation of his daughter. And Nicole is motivated by a dark family secret. While Banks shares how other characters cope with the accident through the eyes of these four characters, the four set the unexpected direction of the town and leave the reader feeling a similar sense of loss and grief.
While the story told isn't something I could ever add to my favorites list, it has elevated Russel Banks to one of my favorite writers. Enough so, all of his unread works will now be added to my reading rotation. Banks has not only impacted as a reader with this novel, but my own writing as an author. I read the book in five days, but I could not put it down despite having others open. Incredible.
While the primary plot deals with the aftermath of the bus going off the road and into the frozen waters of an undrained sand pit in a small town, killing 14 children, The Sweet Hereafter is largely about the hidden motivations of individuals as the town attempts to cope with the accident and consider who to blame. And the life experiences and decisions made by these four primary characters shape the outcome, for better or worse.
A sense of loss and guilt colors Dolores. Billy is tainted by grief, not only from losing his children but his wife five years prior. Mitchell is motivated by his anger at a world that contributed to the alienation of his daughter. And Nicole is motivated by a dark family secret. While Banks shares how other characters cope with the accident through the eyes of these four characters, the four set the unexpected direction of the town and leave the reader feeling a similar sense of loss and grief.
While the story told isn't something I could ever add to my favorites list, it has elevated Russel Banks to one of my favorite writers. Enough so, all of his unread works will now be added to my reading rotation. Banks has not only impacted as a reader with this novel, but my own writing as an author. I read the book in five days, but I could not put it down despite having others open. Incredible.
Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros is everything you want out of a popcorn romantasy with dragons ... until it isn't. However, keep in mind that for many people, the "until it isn't" part never happens, which explains why the novel's rating is so high.
For me, Fourth Wing was a bit of a struggle in that it felt like five stars on the front end but couldn't sustain five stars through the middle before crashing on several one-star cringe moments on the back end. At the start, I didn't even mind that it wasn't the most original story nor that the protagonist, 20-year-old Violet Sorrengail, sounded like she was a 12-year-old with ADHD and in heat most of the time. Ergo, Violet is easily distracted by the male body, even while sparring, sometimes excited by the smell of her opponent. Of course, when she isn't addressing her lustful intentions at the most ridiculous moments, Violet loves to info dump, spoiling any tension before it can take off.
Still, I accepted this as her character, likening the book to a tamer young adult version (with lackluster writing) of the Red Rising series on the sci-fi front and Game of Thrones on the fantasy front, with a plotline super similar to everything like the Divergent and Hunger Game series. (In fact, if you read some of the more brutal reviews, you will find a litany of copycat moments.) But this is NO young adult series despite its cast of 20-somethings who come across like deeply immature middle-school students at a dragon rider training school without any safety nets.
If it were a young adult novel, Yarros wouldn't have needed to dump in some elicit sex scenes near the end. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind sex as a plot point nor blush when I read authors like Updike or Salter (or any other author predisposed to inject sex into their work). But what makes Yarros different is that her scenes read like Penthouse letters of old, both explicit and crass, as they might be rewritten by, once again, a middle schooler.
By the time I reached this point in the novel, I was utterly baffled. The book had already slipped from five to four stars, but now I was reading one-star smut that lent nothing to the story. If that wasn't bad enough, Fourth Wing does a nose dive when it finally reveals the true arch nemesis of the story — a species of humans with veiny eyes who yield magic directly from the source (rather than through a dragon or griffin). For whatever reason, this is the ultimate abomination, akin to choosing the dark side of the Force. And it is in confronting these wiley wizards and their wyverns, Fourth Wing loses all steam, becoming predictable and overwrote without any tension one would expect from an epic battle.
By the end, I felt like Yarros threw every trope imaginable at me (and none of them done well). I was left scratching my head, wondering what the heck just happened. So, when writing the review, I decided to split the difference. The front end comes on strong as an addictive romantasy that never finds its true potential (partly because the writing just isn't that good) before descending into a mindless, numbing mess of gratuitous sex and poorly handled combat. Even the characters are confused by the end of it — which shouldn't be the case because they aren't that deep anyway.
Is there any other reason to give it three stars? Yes, I suppose. I'm just interested enough in the story that I'll likely carry on with the series at some point when I need something entirely mindless to listen to (as audiobooks are the way to go with one moving forward). Why? I don't know. Why do we sometimes watch bad movies that we know are bad?
And with that, in closing, I will caution some curious non-fantasy readers: Please don't let Fourth Wing be your introduction to fantasy because it might be set in a thinly developed fantasy world with dragons; it's not a fantasy in any classic sense of the genre. And I don't mean that in a good way.
For me, Fourth Wing was a bit of a struggle in that it felt like five stars on the front end but couldn't sustain five stars through the middle before crashing on several one-star cringe moments on the back end. At the start, I didn't even mind that it wasn't the most original story nor that the protagonist, 20-year-old Violet Sorrengail, sounded like she was a 12-year-old with ADHD and in heat most of the time. Ergo, Violet is easily distracted by the male body, even while sparring, sometimes excited by the smell of her opponent. Of course, when she isn't addressing her lustful intentions at the most ridiculous moments, Violet loves to info dump, spoiling any tension before it can take off.
Still, I accepted this as her character, likening the book to a tamer young adult version (with lackluster writing) of the Red Rising series on the sci-fi front and Game of Thrones on the fantasy front, with a plotline super similar to everything like the Divergent and Hunger Game series. (In fact, if you read some of the more brutal reviews, you will find a litany of copycat moments.) But this is NO young adult series despite its cast of 20-somethings who come across like deeply immature middle-school students at a dragon rider training school without any safety nets.
If it were a young adult novel, Yarros wouldn't have needed to dump in some elicit sex scenes near the end. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind sex as a plot point nor blush when I read authors like Updike or Salter (or any other author predisposed to inject sex into their work). But what makes Yarros different is that her scenes read like Penthouse letters of old, both explicit and crass, as they might be rewritten by, once again, a middle schooler.
By the time I reached this point in the novel, I was utterly baffled. The book had already slipped from five to four stars, but now I was reading one-star smut that lent nothing to the story. If that wasn't bad enough, Fourth Wing does a nose dive when it finally reveals the true arch nemesis of the story — a species of humans with veiny eyes who yield magic directly from the source (rather than through a dragon or griffin). For whatever reason, this is the ultimate abomination, akin to choosing the dark side of the Force. And it is in confronting these wiley wizards and their wyverns, Fourth Wing loses all steam, becoming predictable and overwrote without any tension one would expect from an epic battle.
By the end, I felt like Yarros threw every trope imaginable at me (and none of them done well). I was left scratching my head, wondering what the heck just happened. So, when writing the review, I decided to split the difference. The front end comes on strong as an addictive romantasy that never finds its true potential (partly because the writing just isn't that good) before descending into a mindless, numbing mess of gratuitous sex and poorly handled combat. Even the characters are confused by the end of it — which shouldn't be the case because they aren't that deep anyway.
Is there any other reason to give it three stars? Yes, I suppose. I'm just interested enough in the story that I'll likely carry on with the series at some point when I need something entirely mindless to listen to (as audiobooks are the way to go with one moving forward). Why? I don't know. Why do we sometimes watch bad movies that we know are bad?
And with that, in closing, I will caution some curious non-fantasy readers: Please don't let Fourth Wing be your introduction to fantasy because it might be set in a thinly developed fantasy world with dragons; it's not a fantasy in any classic sense of the genre. And I don't mean that in a good way.
The Paranormal Ranger: A Navajo Investigator's Search for the Unexplained by Stanley Milford Jr.
informative
medium-paced
3.5
The Paranormal Ranger reads a little more like a personal memoir combined with Navajo-Cherokee culture than its promise of captivating police case studies that cut at the heart of aliens, skinwalkers, and Bigfoot encounters.
There is nothing wrong with that, as Stanley Milford Jr. delivers a fine book. I'm glad I read it, but I did find that I wanted so much more than a fine book. Many encounters, especially those in his youth, feel a little thin (maybe even thinner than a few of my own), as do most case summations.
As a result, I sometimes found myself more interested in the daily life of a Navajo Ranger and the Navajo culture in general than the supernatural promise that was marginally delivered, despite Milford's claims that Navajos don't wander after dark, speak the names of the dead, or want anything to do with the paranormal. He says nighttime belongs to the spirits, when witches do their work and skinwalkers prowl the land. (Never mind that you can rent a traditional Navajo hut in Monument Valley.) But I didn't always feel it in his book.
Some of these setbacks can be linked to the book's structure, with little bits of Navajo creationism tossed in ahead of some chapters. The stories, while interesting, could have used more explanation or perhaps a clearer connection to the chapter they preceded. It might have been even better to kick them all out into a chapter of their own or save them all for something akin to an appendix. I'm not sure. I see a need to keep them, but not where they are.
But the same could be said for the rest of the book. It wants to be great at many things and ends up not being great at any of them. It's a personal memoir, insight into the Navajo Rangers, intro to modern Navajo culture, and reflection on Navajo origin from the First World to the one we live in today. So, while some of it hints at having substance, it still feels less filling as a whole. There were times I even wished his editor would have advised that he push a little harder and dig a little deeper.
The last two chapters are certainly the best of the book in terms of actual paranormal activity. Milford gives us something to consider, including the tidbit that the supernatural is a universal experience, not just one for the Navajo. Overall, I like his take, recognizing that the universe is far stranger than we will ever know. He harkens one of my favorite quotes from Shakespeare without ever citing it: ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’
All in all, The Paranormal Ranger is a fine memoir of a fascinating man. So, if you enjoy a brush-up with something one-off from the ordinary, it's worth picking up. Just don't expect 240+ pages of Navajo X-files. This isn't that.
There is nothing wrong with that, as Stanley Milford Jr. delivers a fine book. I'm glad I read it, but I did find that I wanted so much more than a fine book. Many encounters, especially those in his youth, feel a little thin (maybe even thinner than a few of my own), as do most case summations.
As a result, I sometimes found myself more interested in the daily life of a Navajo Ranger and the Navajo culture in general than the supernatural promise that was marginally delivered, despite Milford's claims that Navajos don't wander after dark, speak the names of the dead, or want anything to do with the paranormal. He says nighttime belongs to the spirits, when witches do their work and skinwalkers prowl the land. (Never mind that you can rent a traditional Navajo hut in Monument Valley.) But I didn't always feel it in his book.
Some of these setbacks can be linked to the book's structure, with little bits of Navajo creationism tossed in ahead of some chapters. The stories, while interesting, could have used more explanation or perhaps a clearer connection to the chapter they preceded. It might have been even better to kick them all out into a chapter of their own or save them all for something akin to an appendix. I'm not sure. I see a need to keep them, but not where they are.
But the same could be said for the rest of the book. It wants to be great at many things and ends up not being great at any of them. It's a personal memoir, insight into the Navajo Rangers, intro to modern Navajo culture, and reflection on Navajo origin from the First World to the one we live in today. So, while some of it hints at having substance, it still feels less filling as a whole. There were times I even wished his editor would have advised that he push a little harder and dig a little deeper.
The last two chapters are certainly the best of the book in terms of actual paranormal activity. Milford gives us something to consider, including the tidbit that the supernatural is a universal experience, not just one for the Navajo. Overall, I like his take, recognizing that the universe is far stranger than we will ever know. He harkens one of my favorite quotes from Shakespeare without ever citing it: ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’
All in all, The Paranormal Ranger is a fine memoir of a fascinating man. So, if you enjoy a brush-up with something one-off from the ordinary, it's worth picking up. Just don't expect 240+ pages of Navajo X-files. This isn't that.