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thelizabeth's reviews
591 reviews
From The Mixed Up Files Of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg
5.0
Oh this is the cutest thing. So silly I never read this as a kid. I can tell you exactly why I would have liked it: because I used to pretend to live at the Milwaukee Public Museum in the European Village and/or Streets of Old Milwaukee exhibits. (I, uh, thought they were kind of the same thing. They're right next to each other!) This plan, like Claudia's, also would have worked. I'm just saying.
I didn't realize that Frankweiler herself was present later in the book (that it's not just a remote narrative of what the kids do.) This gives it a really sweet perspective for adults reading the book, I think. And while Claudia's more fastidious feelings are poked fun at a little (but only a little) her big feelings at the end, when she starts to realize she can name what she needs in her life, are really great for all readers to watch her have.
Meg lent me her used copy that has someone else's marks in it. At the end, all of Claudia's lessons are highlighted. But I like to think I MIGHT HAVE sorted them out on my own.
I didn't realize that Frankweiler herself was present later in the book (that it's not just a remote narrative of what the kids do.) This gives it a really sweet perspective for adults reading the book, I think. And while Claudia's more fastidious feelings are poked fun at a little (but only a little) her big feelings at the end, when she starts to realize she can name what she needs in her life, are really great for all readers to watch her have.
Meg lent me her used copy that has someone else's marks in it. At the end, all of Claudia's lessons are highlighted. But I like to think I MIGHT HAVE sorted them out on my own.
The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood
4.0
This is more like a 3.75 because things got laid on a bit thickly at the end, but I really did enjoy it, sometimes lots. It didn't really have the jaw-drop quality of a 5-star, and I didn't really like the shuffle of satirical styles with the maids' interludes. Penelope's narration was wonderful, though, and I liked the parts in Hades and I loved the easy and precise language. The chapter titles are great. "Helen Ruins My Life" is a keeper.
When this myths series started a few years ago, I was all excited, because that's pretty much exactly my alley. Retellings of these elaborate stories in modern styles are necessary because not everyone is up for Homeric translation, but some of us really do appreciate details like Odysseus's faithful dog, as well as language that's allowed to be more frank than classical poems, or artful in different ways.
Unfortunately I couldn't get through Jeanette Winterson's book at the time, and though I also had this one, I didn't try til now. A mistake! I should read more of these, and also I should read more Atwood.
When this myths series started a few years ago, I was all excited, because that's pretty much exactly my alley. Retellings of these elaborate stories in modern styles are necessary because not everyone is up for Homeric translation, but some of us really do appreciate details like Odysseus's faithful dog, as well as language that's allowed to be more frank than classical poems, or artful in different ways.
Unfortunately I couldn't get through Jeanette Winterson's book at the time, and though I also had this one, I didn't try til now. A mistake! I should read more of these, and also I should read more Atwood.
Nothing Sacred: Selected Writings by Angela Carter
3.0
Shannon gave me several Angela Carter books years ago and it's well past time I cracked them. It's clear she knows so many things I want to learn, and also I lately keep seeing her name everywhere. I even saw someone on a TV show watching Pandora's Box after I read the essay where she discusses it. The world is trying to teach me!
I thought the collection of journalism would be a good introduction to her voice, which is true, but actually I felt like it wasn't quite the right first choice. I wanted to see so many of her arguments through, to have her keep discussing a thesis, but they're all pieces written for magazines and newspapers so they don't do that. (I think I might read The Sadeian Women next, to indulge that interest.)
Her literary criticism is so famous for good reason, so it was great to read it. "Alison's Giggle" and "Love in a Cold Climate" will be read again, and made me want to reread or read the literature discussed. In general I wanted to learn more about what she's writing about. The other pieces I enjoyed most were the biographical ones, on the Wordsworths and Frida Kahlo and Colette. Her style really suits analysis of a famous life.
And I keep laughing at her joke about her neighborhood in Japan being so clean "You could eat your dinner off the children."
Thanks Shannon!
Also it is annoying me I can't find the right cover art on GoodReads. Mine has a cute photo of her in a hammock.
I thought the collection of journalism would be a good introduction to her voice, which is true, but actually I felt like it wasn't quite the right first choice. I wanted to see so many of her arguments through, to have her keep discussing a thesis, but they're all pieces written for magazines and newspapers so they don't do that. (I think I might read The Sadeian Women next, to indulge that interest.)
Her literary criticism is so famous for good reason, so it was great to read it. "Alison's Giggle" and "Love in a Cold Climate" will be read again, and made me want to reread or read the literature discussed. In general I wanted to learn more about what she's writing about. The other pieces I enjoyed most were the biographical ones, on the Wordsworths and Frida Kahlo and Colette. Her style really suits analysis of a famous life.
And I keep laughing at her joke about her neighborhood in Japan being so clean "You could eat your dinner off the children."
Thanks Shannon!
Also it is annoying me I can't find the right cover art on GoodReads. Mine has a cute photo of her in a hammock.
A Summer to Die by Lois Lowry
5.0
A gift from Amy! Thank you Amy! I finished reading this at 2:30am this morning when I couldn't sleep.
I almost didn't want to read this because it is like a little dandelion poof of a book, it is so super small I was like, I'll blink and I'll miss it! What if I hurt it! I'd never read it before because as a kid I was snotty about the kill-me-now melodramas of Lurlene McDaniel and ilk. (Please see Somewhere Between YA Lit and Death.) However, this meant I overlooked a lot.
The handling of these experiences of death is so elegant here. I liked how most of the biggest information is told not through first-person dialogue (declaration, reaction) but by simple narrative statements, sometimes right in the middle of a chapter. The news itself is important and dramatic enough to make impact in a few sentences. And I liked how once it was clear Molly was dying, her disease still wasn't named for a while -- this isn't a book about leukemia, it's a book about Meg and Molly and their family and neighborhood.
The jaw-drop factor came from the birth scene, for which I am giving the book an extra eleventy stars though GoodReads only shows 5. It is just... it is just. The detail is incredible, and everything that is said couldn't be more perfect. The symbolism of this entire subplot is perfect, but this is a 100% perfect chapter of book.
The ending is also perfect: not just leaving us with a meaningful moment in Meg's connection to her sister, but viewing Meg having a personal lesson that is just as important.
I almost didn't want to read this because it is like a little dandelion poof of a book, it is so super small I was like, I'll blink and I'll miss it! What if I hurt it! I'd never read it before because as a kid I was snotty about the kill-me-now melodramas of Lurlene McDaniel and ilk. (Please see Somewhere Between YA Lit and Death.) However, this meant I overlooked a lot.
The handling of these experiences of death is so elegant here. I liked how most of the biggest information is told not through first-person dialogue (declaration, reaction) but by simple narrative statements, sometimes right in the middle of a chapter. The news itself is important and dramatic enough to make impact in a few sentences. And I liked how once it was clear Molly was dying, her disease still wasn't named for a while -- this isn't a book about leukemia, it's a book about Meg and Molly and their family and neighborhood.
The jaw-drop factor came from the birth scene, for which I am giving the book an extra eleventy stars though GoodReads only shows 5. It is just... it is just. The detail is incredible, and everything that is said couldn't be more perfect. The symbolism of this entire subplot is perfect, but this is a 100% perfect chapter of book.
The ending is also perfect: not just leaving us with a meaningful moment in Meg's connection to her sister, but viewing Meg having a personal lesson that is just as important.
Letters to Judy by Judy Blume
5.0
This is a living Dear Mr. Henshaw. Judy Blume compiled it in a way that it addresses special subjects and she reflects on her own perspective of them. She does a great job of giving some good advice this way, but mostly she's stopping after a little frank analysis of what's at stake in each child's letter.
Good if you like: mental health, serious children. I don't know how she does it because just one of these letters going unresolved would break my heart in dozens, but that's obviously the trade-off here for the reward of confidence. And she seems to have resolved them quite often. Even more heartbreaking than those begging to be answered because they don't know who else to turn to, are the kids who say, "Can you please write a book about my problem?" The faith and hope in that request.
In the front, my copy has the inscription "To Lois, Thanks for being there to talk to. Love, Linda. 6/7/86," written two days after I turned four.
Backstory disclosure: When I was about 10 I found this book in the children's section of the library and I took it home. I had a couple days of indulgence before my mother took it away, when I was about 3/4 through. She said that when I was 14 I could read it again, but of course I didn't. (I knew she would ultimately find it inappropriate, but that just made it more important to read; I am the girl who learned "The Truth About Santa Claus" by reading Parents Magazine in the bathroom.)
What's interesting is that I still disagree with this directive, especially having read it all now -- not that I'm a parent, but I think I consider little kids differently than that. I know what really drew me to the book, since I used to try to protect myself and get smarter by learning about everything in detail, subjects way beyond my age or experience. It made me feel more like a person who was going to have a sound future, and less frightened of my own juvenile problems. Reading about the lives of adults or the abuses of history (I read Roots when I was 11), I knew better what was right to believe in and I guess I often needed that extra assurance.
I wasn't reading about problems more extreme or more inappropriate than other things in my life because they were sensational -- well, that was only part of it, since at that age you're just learning what sensational is even like. But I definitely I was also reading because instinct told me knowledge was a kind of power, a defense, and if I knew what types of things I haven't experienced then maybe I will be a safer person, or a sturdier friend. I didn't think it in those ways when I was 10, but I knew I was drawn to something so helpful for an important reason.
Probably I should also have read more issue-directed Judy Blume novels for help with this, but that is another issue. And, there are many times Judy addresses kids directly in this book -- she knew we would want to read what she said about us. As she says in one section, "What kids imagine is usually worse than the truth, so instead of hiding the facts from them, talk to them." What I didn't talk about, I'd read about, and I definitely did so because it made me feel better. She says of a situation with her own mother: "'I didn't want to frighten you,' she said. But there is nothing more frightening than not knowing."
This book is out of print now, but I recommend it highly. It can be found for pennies on Half.com or Amazon, and most likely, still in the children's section of the library.
Good if you like: mental health, serious children. I don't know how she does it because just one of these letters going unresolved would break my heart in dozens, but that's obviously the trade-off here for the reward of confidence. And she seems to have resolved them quite often. Even more heartbreaking than those begging to be answered because they don't know who else to turn to, are the kids who say, "Can you please write a book about my problem?" The faith and hope in that request.
In the front, my copy has the inscription "To Lois, Thanks for being there to talk to. Love, Linda. 6/7/86," written two days after I turned four.
Backstory disclosure: When I was about 10 I found this book in the children's section of the library and I took it home. I had a couple days of indulgence before my mother took it away, when I was about 3/4 through. She said that when I was 14 I could read it again, but of course I didn't. (I knew she would ultimately find it inappropriate, but that just made it more important to read; I am the girl who learned "The Truth About Santa Claus" by reading Parents Magazine in the bathroom.)
What's interesting is that I still disagree with this directive, especially having read it all now -- not that I'm a parent, but I think I consider little kids differently than that. I know what really drew me to the book, since I used to try to protect myself and get smarter by learning about everything in detail, subjects way beyond my age or experience. It made me feel more like a person who was going to have a sound future, and less frightened of my own juvenile problems. Reading about the lives of adults or the abuses of history (I read Roots when I was 11), I knew better what was right to believe in and I guess I often needed that extra assurance.
I wasn't reading about problems more extreme or more inappropriate than other things in my life because they were sensational -- well, that was only part of it, since at that age you're just learning what sensational is even like. But I definitely I was also reading because instinct told me knowledge was a kind of power, a defense, and if I knew what types of things I haven't experienced then maybe I will be a safer person, or a sturdier friend. I didn't think it in those ways when I was 10, but I knew I was drawn to something so helpful for an important reason.
Probably I should also have read more issue-directed Judy Blume novels for help with this, but that is another issue. And, there are many times Judy addresses kids directly in this book -- she knew we would want to read what she said about us. As she says in one section, "What kids imagine is usually worse than the truth, so instead of hiding the facts from them, talk to them." What I didn't talk about, I'd read about, and I definitely did so because it made me feel better. She says of a situation with her own mother: "'I didn't want to frighten you,' she said. But there is nothing more frightening than not knowing."
This book is out of print now, but I recommend it highly. It can be found for pennies on Half.com or Amazon, and most likely, still in the children's section of the library.
Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson
4.0
Actually, 3.5 stars, but that's ok. I star books not on how "good" they are but on how much I like them, and unfortunately for me this fell into the wanted to love it more than I did category. But: it is good. And in some ways I think that the things about it that aren't my favorite reading style are some of the things that will make it work in the long view, and I really respect that.
The prose of Lia's narration is nuts. It is all over the place and highly dramatic and sometimes sort of purple, and meander-y, and singleminded. However: that is exactly how messed-up teenagers feel, exactly. So, I can really understand Halse Anderson opening the floodgates this way. To me it was all right to read, but I think to a teenager it might be fantastic. That is very very fine. Whatever the "job" of an issues book for young adults is, I think this book can hold to it.
Even though: a part of me was really hoping to come to an empathic understanding of an anorexia sufferer's outlook while reading this book, and I didn't. Probably that means I just can't. Usually though I can find that, I can relate to the problem people, but the area of eating disorders has never been one of them. To me it is like watching a mystery and when they give you the answer at the end, you think, that doesn't make any sense, how did the perpetrator get from A to B to form their motive? Why? In the book, Lia repeatedly refers to her "broken" sight of herself and her acknowledged inability to understand what's real based on what other people think. I wish that I knew what she really meant, though.
I rounded up the rating because I still really, really, really, really love the foundation of this book a lot. I think it is a really really good plan for a book. The fact that Lia is not ok at all right from the beginning, the fact that her dead friend is trying to pull her all the way over, the fact that Lia's life looks real and not bleak. There are extraordinary ingredients at work here. And the climactic last scene between Lia and Elijah is amazing, a misty-eyer.
The book made me remember something I'd forgotten, which was a girl in my high school homeroom, whose name I can't remember but her initial landed her near my desk. She wasn't my friend (she ranked higher than me) but in 11th grade we all saw her start to wither and shrink, and later she was just sometimes gone for many weeks. To be very, very completely honest, I hardly noticed.
The prose of Lia's narration is nuts. It is all over the place and highly dramatic and sometimes sort of purple, and meander-y, and singleminded. However: that is exactly how messed-up teenagers feel, exactly. So, I can really understand Halse Anderson opening the floodgates this way. To me it was all right to read, but I think to a teenager it might be fantastic. That is very very fine. Whatever the "job" of an issues book for young adults is, I think this book can hold to it.
Even though: a part of me was really hoping to come to an empathic understanding of an anorexia sufferer's outlook while reading this book, and I didn't. Probably that means I just can't. Usually though I can find that, I can relate to the problem people, but the area of eating disorders has never been one of them. To me it is like watching a mystery and when they give you the answer at the end, you think, that doesn't make any sense, how did the perpetrator get from A to B to form their motive? Why? In the book, Lia repeatedly refers to her "broken" sight of herself and her acknowledged inability to understand what's real based on what other people think. I wish that I knew what she really meant, though.
I rounded up the rating because I still really, really, really, really love the foundation of this book a lot. I think it is a really really good plan for a book. The fact that Lia is not ok at all right from the beginning, the fact that her dead friend is trying to pull her all the way over, the fact that Lia's life looks real and not bleak. There are extraordinary ingredients at work here. And the climactic last scene between Lia and Elijah is amazing, a misty-eyer.
The book made me remember something I'd forgotten, which was a girl in my high school homeroom, whose name I can't remember but her initial landed her near my desk. She wasn't my friend (she ranked higher than me) but in 11th grade we all saw her start to wither and shrink, and later she was just sometimes gone for many weeks. To be very, very completely honest, I hardly noticed.
Refuge by Jessica Goldberg
4.0
In 2003 my best playwriting teacher recommended I read this, to help inspire the play I was working on, in a similar vein. She was a really smart teacher, so I can see why she did. (But I was too caught up to read it, at the time.)
I really liked it: the family is really good, the situation behind the family is really good, it feels like it could go longer because there's even more threads to pull.
That was almost the same as the only thing that held it back from being great for me: consistently, some of the writing is on the nose. I like that they're saying what they're saying, but good playwriting is written around those things, not all over them. Give it time.
I really liked it: the family is really good, the situation behind the family is really good, it feels like it could go longer because there's even more threads to pull.
That was almost the same as the only thing that held it back from being great for me: consistently, some of the writing is on the nose. I like that they're saying what they're saying, but good playwriting is written around those things, not all over them. Give it time.
Bash: Latterday Plays by Neil LaBute
2.0
I bought this at the first BC/EFA Broadway Flea Market I went to, in 2000. The play was new then, so I bought it with a bunch of other books for a dollar, but never read it. Or any LaBute, for that matter. Probably because I was pretty sure I wouldn't like it. Perhaps because I was worried I would?
Well, no worries, nothing exciting here. The first scene was ok, though kind of elementary. I could deal with the Iphigenia metaphor. The second scene totally lost me. It was like being stuck making excruciating small talk with totally horrible rich people for half an hour. And are they talking together or separately? It goes back and forth. Does she really need to be there? Any chance they'll kick themselves in the face? Oh sorry, SPOILERS. The third is all oblique rambling. And that is about it.
I don't get why all the "characters" are LDS, for no apparent reason or connection. To say what exactly? Only one of these stories is about institutionally-condoned bigotry, so as a whole it's not really about a church's warped value system. And the other two are more about their Greek allegories. So who knows. LaBute clearly thinks he is writing the edgiest junk in the world, and he wants to make you feel like you are super cool for participating. I don't find those kinds of authorial favors very interesting.
Well, no worries, nothing exciting here. The first scene was ok, though kind of elementary. I could deal with the Iphigenia metaphor. The second scene totally lost me. It was like being stuck making excruciating small talk with totally horrible rich people for half an hour. And are they talking together or separately? It goes back and forth. Does she really need to be there? Any chance they'll kick themselves in the face? Oh sorry, SPOILERS. The third is all oblique rambling. And that is about it.
I don't get why all the "characters" are LDS, for no apparent reason or connection. To say what exactly? Only one of these stories is about institutionally-condoned bigotry, so as a whole it's not really about a church's warped value system. And the other two are more about their Greek allegories. So who knows. LaBute clearly thinks he is writing the edgiest junk in the world, and he wants to make you feel like you are super cool for participating. I don't find those kinds of authorial favors very interesting.
Bertie's War: A Novel by Barbara Tifft Blakey
3.0
Oh hey I won a First Reads thingy.
I made a mistake with this book. I read the author bio before I read the book, and I decided that I don't agree with the author about some things, so I was going to be disappointed in the book. I shouldn't have done that, because I liked the book a lot. Remember to make decisions in the proper order.
The book has a rustic feeling similar to the feeling in Bridge to Terabithia, which has less of a connection to the current events of its period. I think this book has a great concept and way of connecting to the history in it. Bertie's worries, environment, and family are realistic and good. Her intimidating father and grandfather are true. The threat of "the woodshed" is duly terrifying, and its outcome is genuinely surprising. Her brave big sister Tami who moves into the camper out back so she can write a play over summer vacation is awesome.
And Bertie, poor Bertie. She is a really good kid, though she has lessons to learn about courage. The main letdown of the story, I think, may largely be the fault of the flap copy: the promise of Bertie confronting "an ugly truth about herself" isn't quite met by the end. Still, her serious anxiety and massive sensitivity are extraordinarily relatable and useful for the story, and my heart went out to her. I hoped she'd have a great sympathy for herself when she is older.
I made a mistake with this book. I read the author bio before I read the book, and I decided that I don't agree with the author about some things, so I was going to be disappointed in the book. I shouldn't have done that, because I liked the book a lot. Remember to make decisions in the proper order.
The book has a rustic feeling similar to the feeling in Bridge to Terabithia, which has less of a connection to the current events of its period. I think this book has a great concept and way of connecting to the history in it. Bertie's worries, environment, and family are realistic and good. Her intimidating father and grandfather are true. The threat of "the woodshed" is duly terrifying, and its outcome is genuinely surprising. Her brave big sister Tami who moves into the camper out back so she can write a play over summer vacation is awesome.
And Bertie, poor Bertie. She is a really good kid, though she has lessons to learn about courage. The main letdown of the story, I think, may largely be the fault of the flap copy: the promise of Bertie confronting "an ugly truth about herself" isn't quite met by the end. Still, her serious anxiety and massive sensitivity are extraordinarily relatable and useful for the story, and my heart went out to her. I hoped she'd have a great sympathy for herself when she is older.
Five Plays: Antigone, Eurydice, the Ermine, the Rehearsal, Romeo and Jeannette by Jean Anouilh
3.0
I remembered that I had this collection while I was reading Romola, because there is some Antigone/Oedipus symbolism early in that novel and I did a little refresher with Wikipedia. Previously, I'd read two versions of the tragedy for high school English class in 1999, a classical translation which I didn't like much, and this Anouilh adaptation which I loved. This was, I think, the first time I encountered a serious rewrite of an ancient story, particularly within drama, and it hugely influenced the things that still interest me most deeply about writing. I bought this collection sometime during college so I could reread the play one day and see if I liked his others as much.
I could do this all day, this re-looking at old words. What parts of the stories always stay the same through adaptation? What parts of them do other writers find integral? (NOT A BAD THESIS IF YOU ASK ME.) I am a huge fan of the idea of adapting the classics in this way, in order to learn from and demonstrate them. I think of it as cultural translation, ways to experiment and feel newness in the strongest stories of our species. It's a way of taking them very seriously, treating them to the same urgency given more relatable tales. I think the take on Antigone here is a really great one.
Thoughts, by play: a majorly mixed bag.
Antigone, 5 stars. Succeeds in service of the old story and in its own arguments. "It's just that I'm a little young still for what I have to go through." The conversation between Antigone and Creon made me dog-ear every page.
Eurydice, 1 star. I hated this so much I wondered if I was crazy for liking Antigone at all, much less a lot. I do though. This just stinks. It isn't translating the old story in any tangible way, nor is it doing anything else. There's so many people and they're all unpleasant and absurdly bad characters. They say stupid things. The scene where Orpheus is talking to her but they're not looking at each other isn't too bad, because it's a really good idea for a scene, but then it fizzles into ridiculousness like all the others. Was so glad when it was over.
The Ermine, 3 stars. Starts out stronger than it ends, but enjoyably Chekhov-esque. Thought that some of the financial conflicts were surprisingly real for a society melodrama. "What a sinister sort of farce life is when you're young and poor!"
The Rehearsal, 2 stars. Pretty damn boring. I guess it's farcical? But even so, who wants to watch or read these people at all?
Romeo and Jeannette, 4 stars. To my taste the later acts could use some editing because lots of the conversations feel like they hang on a few minutes too long. But I really liked it, especially the first half. It reminded me of the stressful surreal tone of The Homecoming and the shabby family of Refuge. (Sidebar: the racial epithets late in the play are confusing. One of those character's voice/author's voice mixups. Who do they belong to?) The ending really surprised me, and felt strong. Strangely cinematic, for offstage action.
I could do this all day, this re-looking at old words. What parts of the stories always stay the same through adaptation? What parts of them do other writers find integral? (NOT A BAD THESIS IF YOU ASK ME.) I am a huge fan of the idea of adapting the classics in this way, in order to learn from and demonstrate them. I think of it as cultural translation, ways to experiment and feel newness in the strongest stories of our species. It's a way of taking them very seriously, treating them to the same urgency given more relatable tales. I think the take on Antigone here is a really great one.
Thoughts, by play: a majorly mixed bag.
Antigone, 5 stars. Succeeds in service of the old story and in its own arguments. "It's just that I'm a little young still for what I have to go through." The conversation between Antigone and Creon made me dog-ear every page.
Eurydice, 1 star. I hated this so much I wondered if I was crazy for liking Antigone at all, much less a lot. I do though. This just stinks. It isn't translating the old story in any tangible way, nor is it doing anything else. There's so many people and they're all unpleasant and absurdly bad characters. They say stupid things. The scene where Orpheus is talking to her but they're not looking at each other isn't too bad, because it's a really good idea for a scene, but then it fizzles into ridiculousness like all the others. Was so glad when it was over.
The Ermine, 3 stars. Starts out stronger than it ends, but enjoyably Chekhov-esque. Thought that some of the financial conflicts were surprisingly real for a society melodrama. "What a sinister sort of farce life is when you're young and poor!"
The Rehearsal, 2 stars. Pretty damn boring. I guess it's farcical? But even so, who wants to watch or read these people at all?
Romeo and Jeannette, 4 stars. To my taste the later acts could use some editing because lots of the conversations feel like they hang on a few minutes too long. But I really liked it, especially the first half. It reminded me of the stressful surreal tone of The Homecoming and the shabby family of Refuge. (Sidebar: the racial epithets late in the play are confusing. One of those character's voice/author's voice mixups. Who do they belong to?) The ending really surprised me, and felt strong. Strangely cinematic, for offstage action.