theirresponsiblereader's reviews
548 reviews

Alexandra Petri's US History: Important American Documents by Alexandra Petri

funny lighthearted medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? N/A
• Strong character development? N/A
• Loveable characters? N/A
• Diverse cast of characters? N/A
• Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A

3.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Inside Cover Flap of Alexandra Petri’s US History Say? 

A witty, absurdist satire of the last 500 years, Alexandra Petri’s US History is the fake textbook you never knew you needed!

As a columnist for the Washington Post, Alexandra Petri has watched in real time as those who didn’t learn from history have been forced to repeat it. And repeat it. And repeat it. If we repeat history one more time, we’re going to fail! Maybe it’s time for a new textbook.

Alexandra Petri’s US History contains a lost (invented!) history of America. (A history for people disappointed that the only president whose weird sex letters we have is Warren G. Harding.) Petri’s “historical fan fiction” draws on real events and completely absurd fabrications to create a laugh-out-loud, irreverent takedown of our nation’s complicated past.

On Petri’s deranged timeline, John and Abigail Adams try sexting, the March sisters from Little Women are sixty feet tall, and Susan Sontag goes to summer camp. Nearly eighty short, hilarious pieces span centuries of American history and culture. Ayn Rand rewrites The Little Engine That Could. Nikola Tesla’s friends stage an intervention when he falls in love with a pigeon. The characters from Sesame Street invade Normandy. And Mark Twain—who famously said reports of his death had been greatly exaggerated—offers a detailed account of his undeath, in which he becomes a zombie.

 
What did I think about Alexandra Petri’s US History?
There are 76 pieces in this collection–not all are going to be winners. The odds against that are just too great. The tricky thing is (obviously) the ones I consider winners aren’t necessarily going to be the ones that you identify as winners–that’s probably because you have more refined tastes than me. I’m okay with that (and you should be, too). But I assumed that going in, so the question is: are there enough that you’re going to find funny to make reading all of them (or at least starting all of them before occasionally deciding to move on) worth it?

Absolutely.

Some of these start strong and then peter out–like some Saturday Night Live sketches. Some start strong and build from there. Some are duds from the beginning. And a few (to go back to SNL) leave you wanting Matt Foley to yell about the van down by the river one or two more times.
 
A few of the pieces that had me laughing were:
 

• the spider in a certain Northhampton church who took umbrage at some of Edwards’ imagery
• a poem about the other guy who rode the night Paul Revere did, but his name is hard to rhyme
• a conversation about writing the song that became the tune for The Star-Spangled Banner
• an abridgment of The Scarlett Letter
• the man who bought his wife yellow wallpaper trying to get a refund
• what would Gatsby have been like if Hemingway wrote it?
• someone from Sun-Made trying to get Lorraine Hansbury to strike up a partnership
• Build-a-Bear’s attempt to commemorate 9/11

I really could’ve gone on there, but I think between that and the above quotation, you get an idea. I could’ve come up with a similar list of ones that didn’t work for me–but why bother?
 
If any of the above topics/ideas seem like something you’d enjoy, you’re likely to have fun with over half of this book. When Petri is funny, she’s hilarious. When she’s not…well, there are words on the page that you can definitely read. Her highs are so high and her lows are…still above sea level. I don’t think anything was “bad” here, just some pieces that I really didn’t care for.
 
I’m glad I read this. You’ll probably be, too. I do recommend this, as long as you go in with open eyes.
 

Such Sharp Teeth by Rachel Harrison

adventurous emotional medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? No
• Loveable characters? It's complicated
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Such Sharp Teeth About? 

The Publisher’s website says: 

Rory Morris isn’t thrilled to be moving back to her hometown, even if it is temporary. There are bad memories there. But her twin sister, Scarlett, is pregnant, estranged from the baby’s father, and needs support, so Rory returns to the place she thought she’d put in her rearview. After a night out at a bar where she runs into Ian, an old almost-flame, she hits a large animal with her car. And when she gets out to investigate, she’s attacked.

Rory survives, miraculously, but life begins to look and feel different. She’s unnaturally strong, with an aversion to silver—and suddenly the moon has her in its thrall. She’s changing into someone else—something else, maybe even a monster. But does that mean she’s putting those close to her in danger? Or is embracing the wildness inside of her the key to acceptance?

This darkly comedic love story is a brilliantly layered portrait of trauma, rage, and vulnerability.

 
How Was the Narration?
Sieh matched the energy and tone of the book—elevating some of the text with her performance.

So, what did I think about Such Sharp Teeth?
If I took the time to make a pros and cons list…I think the pros would win but by a hair.

The way the book is set up—a high-powered businesswoman from “the City” coming back to her hometown, only to meet with her High School friend who’s been carrying a torch for her since then. Things spark up between them and she’s starting to consider leaving behind all the power and money for this humble guy from a small town. I couldn’t help but think of every single Hallmark Movie parody I’ve seen/read when she talked about “the City.” And most of the storyline surrounding them reminded me of those movies/parodies, too.

The pros, however…Harrison delivers some great werewolf fiction here. The initial bite, the transformations…just about everything that Rory does to investigate her new condition…and more is so well done, and in many ways is superior to every other werewolf novel I’ve read. It’s some really solid and creepy work there, and I wish more of the book lived up to it.

In the end, it was good enough. It kept me engaged, the story moved well, and I can’t say enough about the depiction of lycanthropes. I do recommend Such Sharp Teeth, but with a few caveats.
 

Miles Morales Suspended: a Spider-Man Novel by Jason Reynolds

adventurous emotional hopeful medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Miles Morales Suspended About? 

In the shadow of his victory against The Warden (see Miles Morales for details), Miles finds himself the brunt of his History teacher’s antagonism. Miles is sure it’s a prejudice against him, his skin color, his background, or…any number of other things. There’s a small chance it’s just his teacher being a jerk. It’s probably a combination of the two. 

Regardless, Miles stands up for himself—and a few classmates have his back. And they end up serving an in-school suspension for it. The bulk of the novel focuses on that day—the doldrums of serving it, the homework assignments Miles has to try to focus on during the day, and all the ways his mind wanders through the day (his crush sitting in the desk behind him doesn’t help him focus at all).
 

Little by little, however, Miles becomes aware of a threat to him and others present that day. And eventually, suspension or not, Miles’ alter-ego has to step in and save the day. 

The Narration 

We have Guy Lockard back from the first book and this time he’s joined by Nile Bullock. I think the former handles the narration and the latter handles the parts of the book from Miles’ POV. Feel free to correct me. 

Both of these performers brought this to life—the narration is very in-your-face (as is fitting, also reminiscent of Stan Lee’s voiceovers in various projects), and the characterization of Miles and the rest ring true. 

I don’t really have anything to say about the narration other than I would listen to these two (together or apart) narrate an audiobook anytime 

So, what did I think about Miles Morales Suspended? 

There is very little plot to this (and not just because it’s just shy of 4 hours in length). What’s more, there’s very little Spider-Man action. Both of these are actually good things—at least this time. What we do get is a lot of Miles Morales action, we see the young man behind the mask just trying to survive high school, make connections, and grow up. These are the aspects of the characters that have helped people connect with Peter Parker and Miles since the 60s. 

Now, don’t get me wrong—if this had all been Miles serving detention, it’d have been hard to put up with (not necessarily impossible). So I’m glad that Reynolds gave us a fun bit of Spider-Man action at the beginning and a pretty epic fight scene to wrap things up. 

But that’s not the heart of the book—nor is it the heart of the character. Reynolds understands what drives Spider-Man (whoever is behind the mask), particularly Miles. Although, I’d like to see him tackle Peter just for fun, too. 

Including so much poetry took me aback initially (or, at least when I figured out that’s what he was doing). But it fits Miles, it fits the girl he’s trying to impress, it fits this world, the themes of this particular book…and Reynolds knows what he’s doing in verse (unlike so many fantasy writers that litter their novels with questionable poetry). The same should be said for Lockard and Bullock—they know their way around reading verse so that it hits. 

Is this the book I wanted and/or expected about Spider-Man or based on the previous novel by Reynolds? Nope. Do I care? Nope. Because it was fun, inventive, thought-provoking, and true to the character (yeah, a little heavy-handed, too—but that also sort of fits the classic Marvel modus operandi).

Bone Carnival by Megan Lynch

adventurous mysterious 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? Yes

4.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Bone Carnival About? 

Mia Wallace’s parents are professors who’ve taken temporary posts at a university in Rome and have brought the twelve-year-old and her older brother, Enzo, with them. Enzo speaks a little Italian and is fairly independent as 17-year-olds tend to be, but Mia has only a small handful of phrases and is as dependent on her parents as a preteen is forced to be, so her options for the time are pretty limited. 

Mia has a reputation (largely earned) for being a troublemaker, a teller of tall tales, and overall ne’er-do-well. It doesn’t seem like she’s leaving a lot of friends behind in the States, and she’s not expecting to change that in Rome, no matter how many resolutions she makes about reform. There’s a girl her age, Grace, who might be a candidate for friendship, but they don’t get off to a good start. Still, Grace’s mother is a colleague of Mia’s mother, so they’re likely to end up spending time together. 

There’s a stray cat who lives near their apartment that Mia has started to spend time with. On the first day that their parents have to go to work, Mia slips out of the classroom she, Enzo, and Grace are stuck in all day to go get something from a nearby bakery (her excuse is that Grace hasn’t eaten breakfast and her stomach is too loud). On the way to the cafe, Mila sees “her” cat and follows it. Unbeknownst to her, Grace has followed Mia. 

The cat leads them to a street carnival—there’s something about it that both unnerves Mia and appeals to her, too (she can’t describe what elicits either reaction). Grace is more unnerved than anything, but can’t get Mia to leave. There are shades of Pleasure Island (from Disney’s version of Pinocchio) to the carnival—but without the anarchy and transformation into a beast of burden. Honestly, I think what Mia’s in for is worse—but you can decide for yourself. 

During part of a puppet show (which is probably not what made me think of Pinocchio), Grace volunteers to participate. She’s awarded a bone of a sorcerer to carry around in a velvet pouch. Supposedly, this will bring her good luck for a day—a lifetime’s worth of good luck in a day. 

Grace doesn’t like any of this, and Mia’s a little creeped out by the idea of a finger (no matter that it’s surely just a prop). So they throw it in a nearby dumpster. 

Before she knows it good things are starting to happen to the pair—and, yup, the pouch is tied around Mia’s neck. What has she gotten the two of them into? And what’s the fine print? 

The Worst Parents in the World? 

A tricky thing that authors have to address when it comes to kids and adventure novels is how to get the parents out of the way to let the kids have an adventure. Are they dead? Are they away from home/the kid is away from home? Are they missing/kidnapped? Or do the kids sneak off—and then why do they do that and how do the parents not notice? Once that’s dealt with, and how, then the reader can settle in and see what the kid gets up to. 

Lynch solves this by giving Mia (and to a lesser extent, Grace) some of the worst parents around, who largely are unaware of what Mia is up to. I’m resisting the impulse to list off all their faults, deficiencies, and sins here—you really need to see them for yourself to draw your own conclusions. I’m typically inclined to see the parent’s/guardian’s perspective and to cut them some slack–I can defend (half-heartedly, I admit) Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, for example. But I’ve got nothing for Mia’s parents. I quickly decided that it wasn’t just Mia’s perspective, either. At a quick glance, half of my notes about this book involve what miserable excuses for parents these two are. 

Obviously, parents who abuse, exploit, and/or deprive their children are worse than these parents. Mia, Ezra, and Grace are fed, educated, clothed, and so on. They’re even cared about and for in some manner. But… 

The actual trauma they’re inflicting, the emotional abuse they aren’t knowingly inflicting, and the long-term trust issues they’re creating for their children are real, even if they’re unaware they’re doing it (or, worse, unconcerned about it). For the longest time, I’ve considered Betty Draper to be the worst parent I’ve seen in fiction. Mia’s parents (particularly her mother) gives her a run for her money. 

So, what did I think about Bone Carnival? 

I started off quite unimpressed with Mia and was hoping this book was going to be about her getting her comeuppance and/or growing up. I was more than a little afraid I was going to have to endure 200 pages of an insufferable protagonist’s antics. There is some growing up involved, thankfully, but I think there’s a healthy dose of the reader understanding Mia better, too. It doesn’t take too long (sometime before the carnival, for sure) for the reader to learn more about Mia and she becomes a bit more than just an irritating character. Once the carnival appears—definitely before it disappears, you’ll become invested in her and what happens. 

There were several times I thought I saw Lynch heading toward a moral, or a cheesy personal transformation on someone’s part to give everyone a happy ending. She did not do that, thankfully. She dodged both of those things every time it looked likely, and I was relieved and impressed each time. I’m not saying what kind of ending we get, but I do want to assure you that there’s character development and growth—but it’s earned and deserved, and not saccharine in any way. And yes, I do think readers can/should take away life lessons (especially parents in a “don’t be like this” way)—but it’s not what you might expect, and not in a “Here’s a Message for You” kind of way. 

It has been years since I’ve been this worried about the stakes in an MG novel—not just the stakes, but the potential life and death (fictional) outcomes for the characters involved. It’s been even longer since an author introduced them as effectively (Riordan and Mull came close—and even killed characters, but I don’t think they made me as apprehensive as Lynch). I could probably point to a few YA books that don’t do it as well as Lynch did. I remember occasionally stumbling across a book that did this when I was this age—John Bellairs for example—but it seems harder to find now*. This is in that neck of the woods. 

* Maybe I just need to read better MG books. 

This book really spooked me, and was disturbing in all the right ways—the character development was believable (not easy given the short time frame depicted), and I thought the characters as a whole were believable and well-drawn. It might be too much for some MG readers—so parents should exercise discretion*. Although I honestly think it’d be good for some readers to read a book that’s too much for them, it’s a great way to create an appreciation for a certain kind of story. 

* Parents should be doing that all of the time, come to think of it. 

My main point about Bone Carnival is this: It should be read by many. Maybe even you. 

Bea Wolf by Zach Weinersmith

adventurous funny hopeful medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Plot
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? No

4.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Hey, wait!
 Listen to the lives of the long-ago kids, the world-fighters,
 the parent-unminding kids, the improper, the politeness-proof,
 the unbowed bully-crushers,
 the bedtime-breakers, the raspberry-blowers,
 fighters of fun-killers, fearing nothing, fated for fame.

 
What’s Bea Wolf About?
In some generic town, there is a treehouse that deserves every accolade you can think of. Treehart has been the headquarters of several of those long-ago kids, where they played, had fun, ate too much candy, etc., etc. Treehart has been ruled by a succession of kings and queens who ruled with generosity until they started to sprout things like facial hair and acne and had to set aside the grown and (ugh) start growing up.
 
They run afoul of one of the local teachers
 

Mr. Grindle he was called, for his father was Mr. Grindle
 and his mother was Mrs. Grindle, and that is how names work.

 
With just a touch, Grindle can bring about adolescence—or, even worse, adulthood. He started periodically raiding Treehart, begeezering all he could. And then, he’d clean it.
 

Ten kids turned teenaged, tired-eyed, ever-texting
 eight turned middle-aged, aching, anxious, angry at the Internet.

 
Nearby, a former king’s cousin has heard of the adultening and sent her fiercest warrior, Bea Wolf, to come and restore frivolity and childhood to Treehart by defeating Grindle. Epic tales are shared, a lot of soda and candy are consumed, and then the two face off in a battle that can only be described as “epic.”
 
A Bit About the Art
In the Acknowledgements, Boulet said that he really didn’t have time to do the art for this book, but after reading part of the script, he knew he had to. I’m so glad he found—probably made—the time for it. This wouldn’t be nearly as successful without his art.

It’s playful and silly while not turning the whole thing into a joke. There’s pathos, there’s gravity, there’s danger in his drawings. And yet they’re attractive, winsome, and engaging, too. His art is everything the text is and more—yes, I think the book would’ve worked had it only been the text. But…he brings it to life in a way that words alone can’t.

Boulet and Weinersmith are a potent and nigh-perfect match here. I cannot say enough good about this art.

On The Publisher’s page for the book, there’s a link to “Take a Look Inside!” I’d heartily recommend you giving that a glance so you can get a flavor of the look of the book.

About Beowulf
After the tale (at least the first part of the tale) of Bea Wolf, Weinersmith spends a few times talking about what Beowulf is, its history, and the connection between this graphic novel and the source. It even talks about various translations to help a young reader pick one to try.
 
It’s written in a way that definitely appeals to crusty old guys like me and very likely will appeal to younger readers, too. I’m not kidding, I’ve re-read it just for the jokes.
 
This essay ends by applying it to the reader:
 

If you’ve made it this far, all the way to the end of my notes, reading all these words in a book that’s mostly pictures, you must be either a librarian or a future writer. Or maybe both. If you haven’t read the original Beowulf, you may be asking whether you should give it a shot. The answer is yes. It’s scary and it’s not for kids, so you’ll probably really like it. If you’re a speaker of English, it’s the oldest big poem in something resembling your language, and it just happens to be one of the greatest stories ever written.At one point, late in the original Beowulf poem, a dragon grows angry because a man steals from his golden hoard. Beowulf is part of the golden hoard of our language. Tolkien stole from it for his stories, and you should too. You might summon up a dragon of your own.

 
I don’t know if this will inspire a future writer or not, but it worked for me.
 
(yeah, I strayed from my own topic there, but whatever…)
 
So, what did I think about Bea Wolf?
I had so much fun reading this, from beginning to end. I was able to appreciate it on a few levels—as someone who appreciates cute and clever comic art, cute and clever comic writing, as a cute and comic take on the epic poem, and as a wonderful and romantic vision of childhood (and a vision of adulthood that hits pretty close to home a little too often). There are probably more levels I enjoyed it on, but that’ll work for a starter.

The poetry itself was dynamite. Weinersmith did a fantastic job of capturing the flavor and spirit of the original and adapting it to a Middle-Grade level (while keeping it engaging for older readers).

I honestly don’t know who the market is for this—sure, it’s supposed to be for Children—but I wonder how many will be intrigued by the idea of it (hopefully, they will be prompted by clever adults/peers). On the other hand, I can’t be the only fan of the original from High School/College/after those who finds the notion of this appealing. Thankfully, I do think both audiences will be pleased with the results and the time they spent with it.
 
There’s at least one more book chronicling Bea’s adventures. I cannot wait to see her deal with Grindle’s mother.
 
I don’t know if I’m doing a decent job of praising this—but I think you get the gist. Do yourself, your inner child, and possibly your children a favor and run out to pick this up. You’ll be glad you did.
 

The Last Devil to Die by Richard Osman

adventurous emotional funny mysterious 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? Yes

5.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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… it might be nice for the Thursday Murder Club to have a new project that moved at a gentler pace than usual. Something a bit less murdery would be quite a novelty.

 
What’s The Last Devil to Die About?
What a nice thought—and for a minute, it looked possible.* But no reader expected it to continue, and it doesn’t. In fact, the murder strikes pretty close to home—a character the reader had met recently, but who had strong ties to Stephen and Elizabeth. Which, of course, is how the Thursday Murder Club gets involved. Since the reader does know him, though, we’re invested from the get-go.

* And I’d absolutely read that.

The Club encounters art forgery, a different group of drug smugglers, and some people who make others they’ve faced down seem downright cuddly. (not all of them, obviously, these retirees have faced off with some scary people) The path they have to follow to find the killer—and the object their friend died over—is probably the twistiest they’ve gone down yet.

Yes, there is the “less murdery” case as well—a fellow resident of Coopers Chase is getting fleeced by an online romantic interest, but he can’t see it. So the Club takes it upon themselves to expose the fraud to protect him before he’s totally broke (and maybe get a little of the money back).

Loss, Grief, and Death

Life continues, whatever you do. It’s a bulldozer like that.

 
This series has always featured death—not just murder. Given the age and health of the protagonists—and the community they live in—it’s a constant presence. But not just death, going on, grieving, learning to cope with the absence of a loved one—and maybe not learning.
 
We’ve watched Joyce, for example, grieving for her husband from Day 1. Everyone since that time has lost people that were important to them, talked about losing others, and so on. It’s one of the dominant themes of this series.
 
In The Last Devil to Die, dominant seems to be an understatement. Osman doesn’t let you get away from it—not in a mawkish, maudlin, or over-the-top manner. It’s just there, it’s what the characters are facing and dealing with in a variety of ways (even some of the bad guys!). It doesn’t leave you (too?) despondent, however. There’s hope, there’s life, there’s a tomorrow for the living. It is a bulldozer.
 
I’ve always been impressed with the way that Osman treats these subjects, he’s at his best in this installment.
 

So, all in all, I ’ve had a lovely Boxing Day, and am going to fall asleep in front of a Judi Dench film. All that’s missing is Gerry working his way through a tin of Quality Street and leaving the wrappers in the tin. Irritating at the time, but I’d give everything I own to have him back. Gerry liked the Strawberry Delights and Orange Crémes, and I liked the Toffee Pennies, and if you want to know the recipe for a happy marriage it is that.

 
So, what did I think about The Last Devil to Die? 

That’s the thing about Coopers Chase. You’d imagine it was quiet and sedate, like a village pond on a summer’s day. But in truth it never stops moving, it’s always in motion. And that motion Is aging, and death, and love, and grief, and final snatched moments and opportunities grasped. The urgency of old age. There’s nothing that makes you feel more alive than the certainty of death.

 
This summer, when I did the Mid-Year Freak Out Book Tag, I said that while no book had made me cry this year, I figured something would by the end of the year. I didn’t think it would be a cozy mystery that did it. Almost twice.

But I was laughing—or at least chuckling—within a couple of pages both times. And it didn’t feel like emotional whiplash or like he was undercutting the seriousness of what elicited the tears or almost tears. Osman was just honestly portraying these characters in all their aspects which brings laughter and tears.

I’ve talked a lot about this book’s “downer” parts. Let me assure you that the comedy is great—watching Ron try to understand his son making Cameos, for example. Other things with Ron, too, actually. I’m having trouble coming up with examples—well, Joyce is a reliable source of humor, obviously. Everyone is, as you know if you’ve read one of these books (and if you haven’t, but are reading this post…there’s your homework, go pick up the first one and thank me later). I’m having trouble coming up with other specific examples that I can use in this post, sadly. But they’re there, I assure you.

As always, the characters are Osman’s strong suit. Our regulars are in fine form, as are the some returning characters (including some I was pleasantly surprised to see), and the new characters are great additions to the cast (however temporary some of them might be). They all practically jump off the page fully formed and it’s hard to ask for more.

The online fraud story goes pretty much like you expect it to—this isn’t a Mrs. Plansky’s Revenge kind of thing. But it was very satisfying. The murder mystery, which is theoretically why people pick this book up, on the other hand…I have mixed feelings about it. But I can’t explain that reaction. Osman knows how to construct a mystery, the red herrings are perfect, the suspects are wonderfully designed, and the reveals and wrap-up were done almost perfectly. I can’t think of a single problem with it. But the entire time I was reading it, something just didn’t click.
 
I want to stress that this is my only issue with the book—sadly, it’s the A story. Maybe it’s the fact that it didn’t feel like it always. Maybe it’s because everything else in the novel was so good and so emotionally strong, that the mystery couldn’t compete. Maybe the book was just too crowded with storylines and this one didn’t have as much time to develop as it needed? It’s also (very likely) just me. I also thought it was pretty easy to guess the killer’s identity—but the motive and the reveal were so well done that I didn’t care. Also, the herrings were red enough that I doubted my guess more than once.
 
That ineffable quibble aside, this is the best book in the series thus far. I couldn’t put it down—from the “are you kidding me?” beginning through the emotional body-blows over the course of the book, up to the strong conclusion, and all points in between, Osman kept me guessing, kept me invested, and kept me wondering how he could be so good at this.
 
I don’t need to tell fans to get this (they’ve probably all read it by now), but I can encourage new readers to catch up.
 

Mislaid in Parts Half-Known by Seanan McGuire

adventurous challenging emotional reflective tense fast-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? It's complicated

4.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Continuity Counts 

By and large, the Wayward Children books can be read in any order—sure, things will mean more if you read them in order of publication (so far, anyway). It’s easier that way to catch allusions, understand the depth of relationships, come close to tracking what Sumi is talking about, etc. But you can get away with skipping around. 

But you really need to read this one after Lost in the Moment and Found. It’s the closest thing to a direct sequel that we’ve had in this series. It’s also kind of a follow-up to Where the Drowned Girls Go (and, as always, touches on several others). 

This is largely Part II of Antsy’s story—the story is shared by a group of the students (my favorites in the series) on one of those quests they’re not supposed to undertake—and whoops, I’ve started writing the next section. 

What’s Mislaid in Parts Half-Known About? 

Antsy is having a hard time adjusting to life at Eleanor West’s School for Wayward Children, almost as much trouble as she’d be having adjusting to anywhere else on Earth. Part of that comes from not being as honest about her circumstances as she could’ve been—understandably so, I think—which just made everything worse. 

Still, there are signs that things may get better, helped a little by Antsy being able to find anything for people. Then Seraphina (who can get anyone—with one or two exceptions—to do what she wants) decides to use her abilities on Antsy to get her to find her Door. 

Ansty, Sumi, and some others (I’m not going to name them to keep your interest piqued) manage to slip away using Antsy’s ability to find things and her knowledge of how Doors work, eventually getting back to the Shop Where the Lost Things Go. Which wasn’t exactly where Antsy wanted to be—and she learns that things there hadn’t gone as expected when she left and a whole new quest develops. 

Not About Jim Morrison’s Band 

When I wrote about Lost in the Moment and Found earlier this year, I said: 

This entry would be a worthwhile read for fans if only for this one thing—we learn more about the Doors and how they work. I’m not going to go into it, obviously, nor am I going to promise that every question you had about the Doors will be answered—actually you’ll likely end up with new questions, but they’ll be informed questions.

 
That’s true here, too. In fact, we learn so much about them that I almost don’t want to learn anything more about Doors for another 8+ books so they don’t get too demystified. McGuire being McGuire, I know that if she reveals a whole lot more in the next book, I’ll end up repeating everything I said prior to this sentence—and I’ll be happy and equipped with more questions.
 
Regardless—what we do learn here is fantastic. It both makes utter sense—in the way that maybe we all should’ve guessed it already (maybe some did)—in terms of storytelling, worldbuilding, and more. I wonder what (some of) the students understanding this is going to do to things going forward. If anything.

Future Continuity
Speaking of things going forward, something major is on the way for Eleanor West. It’s been hinted at before, but so many things in this book point to it happening soon (but in Wayward Children-time, it could take 3-4 novellas for us to get to “soon”). I’m eager to see it, as much as I’m dreading what it might mean.

One Quick Character Note
Every protagonist of these novellas—and a significant chunk of the supporting characters—has been wonderful. With the exception of Seraphina and her crew*, I like all the students we’ve met at the School and want to know more about them all.

* I’m waiting for McGuire to decide it’s time to humanize them so we readers will root for even them, and we’ll feel bad for not doing so earlier.

But…from the moment we met her, Sumi’s been a favorite of mine. I should probably use the definite article there, actually. So I’m not unbiased when I say that in Mislaid in Parts Half-Known she is glorious, but she really is. She’s funny, she’s loopy, she’s brave, and she’s wise. Hard as that last one might be to believe. She’s also rather clever and displays that at the end.

The main parts of the story belong to Antsy and a couple of other characters—but Sumi stole every scene she was in and I really just want a few in a row featuring her.

So, what did I think about Mislaid in Parts Half-Known?
This is not my favorite Wayward Children book, but it’s close. There aren’t one or two big emotional moments like there typically are in these (at least not that hit me…your results may vary). But there were a handful of small emotional moments that worked so well—in terms of what happened to someone, how it impacted the other characters, and the way that McGuire wrote them—that I don’t care. It might even be better this way.

The worlds we saw were wonderful—really, you could set an entire fantasy trilogy in them without reference to any other. The world hinted at on the cover, for example, could easily sustain a 1,500-page trilogy full of whimsy and danger.

There’s probably more humor and smile-inducing moments here than several of these books combined sport. Which was a nice bit of fresh air (in a series that really doesn’t need it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not welcome).

Naturally, there are characters we’re not likely to see again due to the nature of these books, and I’m going to miss them. Although the endings they got were well deserved and well executed.

I almost always walk away from a Wayward Children book feeling satisfied and a little in awe of McGuire—I think that feeling is larger this time just because of the number of emotional and story notes she managed to hit, the storylines she was able to incorporate and resolve, the ones she just moved forward, and…everything else in 160 pages. It shouldn’t be possible. This book (like most in the series) is bigger on the inside.

A few paragraphs back, I said that this wasn’t my favorite in the series—but at the moment, I’m having trouble understanding why (but I’m going to trust my earlier impulse). But it is so, so, so good. I’m having trouble coming up with adequate adjectives at this point.

Go get this in January. Order it now (and/or request it from your library). If you haven’t read these books yet, go. At a bare minimum, get the first, Every Heart a Doorway, and then Lost in the Moment and Found, so you can be ready for this one when it’s released. You can catch up on the others later.
 

Saint Valentine the Kindhearted: The History and Legends of God's Brave and Loving Servant by Ned Bustard, Ned Bustard

 This originally appeared in Grandpappy's Corner at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Saint Valentine the Kindhearted About? 

Why do we call our celebration of love on February 14th (St.) Valentine’s Day? Why do we use February 14th, for that matter? 

Ned Bustard brings us another picture book Biography to teach young readers about Valentine, who was martyred under Claudius on February 14. 

Granted, we don’t know a lot about Valentine and his work, but we have enough to fill this book (and, as I recall from wordier historical treatments, not much more). We get a touch of his early life, a look at his ministry (and the Roman culture), a notable miracle that’s ascribed to him, and a bit about the events leading to his martyrdom. All told in a child-appropriate rhyme. 

Let’s Talk about the Art for a Minute 

Bustard’s cartoon-y art is as great here as it was in his Saint Patrick the Forgiver. The thing that stands out to me is his inking. (at least that’s what we called it back when I was really into comics and talked about the art, hopefully, it still counts). The way he uses bold lines around his character’s faces/bodies (particularly Valentine’s), really makes them pop off the page and almost look like wooden puppets. (that’s the best I can do as far as describing the pictures) 

He’s also able to convey a certain amount of unpleasantness and threat with Roman soldiers without changing the overall feel of the story and its appropriateness for young readers. 

Now, in the Patrick book, he worked in a lot of Celtic knots and whatnot to give it a more Irish feel. Here he goes for a lot of differently colored hearts all over the pages. It didn’t even occur to me while reading the book to pay attention to that—it fit the overall Feb. 14th vibe. I should’ve known better—thankfully, he explained it in “A Note from the Author,” so when I read this with the Grandcritter I can seem more knowledgeable. He works in these hearts in different colors to represent the four types of love (eros, storge, philia, and agape) from ancient Greek thought (and a pretty good book by C.S. Lewis), showing how Valentine displayed and interacted with these types of love in various episodes in the book. 

You can check out the Publisher’s site for a glimpse at the art and layout as a preview. This will probably give you a better idea than anything I tried to convey. 

How is it to Read Aloud? 

It’s a nice little bit of rhyming text, and starting off with “Roses are red,” as often as he does, you’re going to get right into the rhythm reflexively, which is a nice touch. Some of the rhymes feel like a stretch to me*, but when you’ve got a good head of steam going as you read you probably won’t notice. 

* “ago” and “van Gogh”, really? Also, that only works if you use the American pronunciation—sorry, British readers. 

So, what did I think about Saint Valentine the Kindhearted? 

I enjoyed this. I do wish we had more history to draw from for Bustard to use here (and, well, other historians writing for older audiences, too), just to fill out some of the details reliably. But this is a good introduction to the figure that’s had such a cultural impact so that even younger readers can know there’s basis to the celebration beyond chalky candies and silly drawings. 

I don’t have a lot to say about this beyond that. It’s a fun read for the little folks, it has details and layers that older readers can appreciate and use to talk about bigger ideas with the little ones, too. Color me impressed yet again by Bustard and I’m eager to see what holiday/figure he picks next. Anyone trying to bring Early Church figures to the attention of the pre-K crowd deserves some applause and I’m happy to keep giving it, while gladly recommending you jump on board. 

The Secret by Lee Child, Andrew Child

adventurous tense medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Plot
• Strong character development? No
• Loveable characters? It's complicated
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? No

2.5

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s The Secret About? 

It’s 1992 and Capt. Jack Reacher has been assigned to a task force organized by the Secretary of Defense. He’s the U.S. Army Representative, and there’s someone from the CIA, the FBI, and the Treasury Department. They’ve been brought together to investigate a series of possible murders of scientists from around the country—although there’s the possibility they’re freak accidents or suicides, too. 

In the 60s these men were part of a secret project that was abandoned after an accident caused some civilian deaths. But now it appears that someone has found their names and is working their way down a list. Can Reacher and the task force find the killer in time? What’s the purpose of killing them now? 

So, what did I think about The Secret? 

If this were a thriller about any other character and had someone else’s name on the cover, I might have said it was enjoyable enough.
 

But it’s about Jack Reacher and Lee Child’s name is on the cover (even if it’s pretty well established that Andrew is doing most of the writing), so there are certain standards that have to be met. The Secret falls far short of them. 

I could go on a prolonged screed listing my problems with the book—but I’m going to skip it. Those problems range from minor (there’s no way that a 1992 version—or a 2023 version—of Reacher is going to say “pearl clutching”) to major (there’s no reason for the big multiple attackers vs. Reacher fight in the middle other than it’s been a hundred pages since Reacher’s done anything violent, and that time was pretty quick and undramatic). I’d also say I was disappointed by the use of the rest of the task force, which was subpar at best, the big reveal at the end was lazy, and the concluding chapters were a letdown from the mediocre pages before it. 

But for me, it boils down to this—that guy walking around in a uniform wasn’t Jack Reacher. He was a decent Generic Thriller hero who could possibly develop into a character worthy of a series. And that’s a fatal flaw. 

The Secret wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t good, either. Reacher deserves better from his creator—and from anyone hired to carry on the character, and he’s not getting it. I’ve tried (and some of my readers have told me I shouldn’t) to give this new arrangement time to develop into something worthwhile, but I think my experiment is over. I’m going to move on to other thriller series now—I may check in with what the Child brothers are doing in a couple of years, but if I’m going to keep a positive regard for Jack Reacher, I’m going to have to focus on my memories (and whatever Alan Ritchson is doing on the show). 

Up on the Woof Top by Spencer Quinn

adventurous funny lighthearted mysterious tense medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

 This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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What’s Up on the Woof Top About? 

Bernie accompanies his elderly neighbors to a book signing for Dame Ariadne Carlisle, the author of a series of Christmas-themed mysteries. This, as one has to assume, is interrupted by some canine-induced chaos. However, it wasn’t Chet that got out of hand this time. Nevertheless, Chet and his human partner do grab the attention of Carlisle. 

She ends up offering the duo a job they can’t turn down. She owns quite the little compound up in the mountains. It’s called Kringle Ranch and has buildings with names like Cratchit House. Carlisle knows her brand and has fully embraced it. As part of this brand, she owns a group of nine reindeer—her favorite, Rudy, has gone missing. For a sizeable payday, successful or not, she wants Bernie (or probably his friend with the superior sense of smell) to find Rudy and bring him back home. 

Once they get to the Ranch, Bernie learns that Carlisle is suffering a career-risking case of writer’s block—which is ascribed to Rudy’s absence, but it could be the pressure that book 100 is too much for her. Or a combination of things. But it’s this block that Bernie really focuses on. 

Or he tries to, anyway. Shortly after they arrive, the duo finds Carlisle’s personal assistant at the bottom of a gorge, barely alive. It turns out that Carlisle’s one, true love was also found at the bottom of that gorge, murdered, before she started writing. Bernie assumes that there’s a link between the two and plunges into the unsolved murder case as a way of finding the attempted murderer. 

A Holiday Sampler 

Along the way, we get the occasional excerpt from Carlisle’s Trudi Termaine series—which is interesting enough and does help you understand the character. But…I’ve gotta say, I hope Quinn doesn’t go the Seanan McGuire/A. Deborah Baker route and put out books under her name, I don’t know that I could deal with an entire novel’s worth of it. 

(of course I would inevitably try it) 

The Holiday Content 

Unlike the previous holiday-themed installment, It’s a Wonderful Woof, where I said that it “would be very easy to forget that this is a Christmas/Holiday Themed novel,” it is impossible to forget that about this book. I mean, for crying out loud, Bernie is hired to search for a reindeer named Rudolph. 

Christmas just flat-out permeates Up on the Woof Top. Thankfully, not in a cheesy way, or one that should offend anyone, or put off Scrooges. It’s part of the setting, it’s part of every plotline*, and the holiday is discussed frequently. 

* I should probably qualify that with a “nearly,” but I can’t think of an exception off the top of my head. 

None of this makes this one of those novels/stories that you can only read during the holiday season—like The Nutcracker or A Christmas Carol. Whenever you get to it during the year, it’ll be fine—but you won’t forget for a second what time of year it takes place in. (which makes it different from almost every single other book in the series, which could take place anytime) 

Continuing Arcs 

Sure, it wasn’t the biggest series-changing moment, but Chet getting out to…ahem…become a father was so subtle that you could be forgiven for missing it. And many of the series’ bigger moments (both for individual novels or overall) are underplayed—thanks in part to Chet not understanding them at the time or his unreliable narration. 

That is not the case in this book. Not even close. Bernie does some things here that are going to change the books, his work, Chet’s life, and more in ways that readers can only guess at for now. (Quinn might only be guessing at for now, too)—and they make up the B-story, frequently distracting Bernie and the reader from murders, attempted murders, sleigh-pulling mammals, aging friends (new and old), and so on. 

Here’s a fairly non-spoilery way to talk about how big and unusual Bernie’s actions in this novel are—he goes to his regular pawn shop not to hock or buy-back the watch. He goes there to just buy something. It threw me almost as much as it did the owners of the pawn shop. 

So, what did I think about Up on the Woof Top? 

“You did us proud. You’re the brains of the outfit, no doubt about it.”

Me the brains? That had to be one of Bernie’s jokes. He can be very funny at times. If I were the brains how could the Little Detective Agency be so successful, except for the finances part? Still, it was nice to hear. If only I knew exactly what I’d done I could do it again, and then hear Bernie say “You did us proud,” once more. Or even more than once! But you can’t have everything, which kind of makes sense, because who could possibly carry everything? You could have it, but you couldn’t go anywhere. What would be the point of that?”

 
I had a blast with this—there’s a subplot or scene or two that I wondered about. But they were either eventually justified or were fun enough that I didn’t care. The rest was just a ball of holiday-flavored Chet-goodness.
 
I never understood Bernie’s approach to the search for Rudy, I will admit. It really felt like he was just taking a vacation and occasionally remembered he had a chore to do. But that job was just an excuse to put him in this setting so he could look into this murder/attempted murder and associated shenanigans—that was clear from the jump (well, not what he was really going to be doing there, but that a case other-than the Rudy-hunt was in the wings)—so I didn’t worry about it too much. Also, the payoff to that particular gig was dealt with well enough by Quinn, that any quibbles just didn’t matter.
 
The novel is largely Bernie and Chet getting to play in the snow while doing what they do best while encountering a few characters that the reader will want to get to know better (a former Sheriff and a current deputy for starters). There’s a child that will steal your heart as he does Chet’s. And then there’s the setup for the series change that I mentioned above. Up on the Woof Top delivers plenty of fun from page 1 to 307.
 
Naturally, we get some healthy doses of what a friend calls Chet the Jet wisdom and other real heartwarming moments (see above quotation) that will flip in a moment to welcome silliness. There’s also a conversation about the lifespan of dogs that hit me right in “all the feels” after my dog’s recent death (it would’ve done it anyway, but the hit landed a bit harder). To be clear: I absolutely loved that moment and would’ve given the book 3 stars just because of it had I been annoyed by the rest of it.
 
Fans of this series will be very happy to unwrap this gift—and it should win a new reader over as well. If either of those two labels applies to you, I heartily recommend this novel to you.