Ethel, I think you underestimated your transmitter!

The Seance
John Harwood

Can I just say how much I LOVE this time of year? True, the fall also coincides with a return to work which is, of course, full of UGH, but even a return to grading and poorly constructed sentences and forgotten homework can't make me entirely dislike autumn. AND, it's time for SPOOKY READS! Which are, of course, full of win.

So, you might remember John Harwood from The Ghost Writer, which was, as I recall, "a pretty good time." Now he's back with The Seance, an equally atmospheric Gothic mystery set in Victorian England.

Constance Langton has problems. Her father doesn't care about her, and her mother is too busy mourning her dead sister to care much about her, either. Constance begins to delve into the nascent spiritualist community in hopes of helping her mother move on from her grief.

Whoops. So much for THAT. The best of intentions, and all that. Before you know it, Constance learns she has inherited Wraxford Hall, a mouldering old mansion in the countryside, from a distant reputation. The lawyer who tells her of this inheritance warns her to sell the building without setting foot in it -- it has been the site of numerous apparitions, disappearances, and deaths. The Hall remains shrouded in mystery.

But this wouldn't be an entertaining novel if Constance were to listen. Soon she finds herself searching for the truth behind Wraxford Hall.

The Seance is a nice little novel that is both spooky and endearing. My only complaint is that I had a hard time envisioning some of the action (especially as the mystery was explained); however, this confusion is probably due to my unfamiliarity with the layout of such great homes. (Also, I was reading on my Kindle while walking on my treadmill. So I'm sure that didn't increase my comprehension. Oh well.)

In a nutshell: Charming, spooky, mysterious -- great fun.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: Personal Kindle copy here

RIPV: Ghosts, seances, and a mystery? You're darn right The Seance counts toward this year's RIP challenge. BAM!

Not for the faint of heart

Sworn to Silence
Linda Castillo

First, a warning: this book is pretty messed up in places. There's a serial killer, and he's not the nice kind that kills you all quick-like. No, he drags things out and makes life extra-painful. In other words, he's just like high school.

Ok, so, background: Kate Burkholder grew up Amish but left the community and is now chief of police. Her skills are put to the test when young women turn up dead. Roman numerals carved into their stomachs indicate the killer's rampage has been a long one -- even though he was presumed dead over a decade ago.

In many ways, the story is cliched: Kate battles the predominately-male police force and fights to prove her worth. She's also hiding a dark secret that could destroy her. An alcoholic detective who is battling his own demons is sent to help with the investigation. What if he uncovers Kate's secret? And what about the hotshot investigator who slowly infringes upon Kate's case?

These cliches, however, do not detract from the novel. Sworn to Silence is a solid mystery that follows genre conventions and delivers chills along the way. I could have done without the predictable and unnecessary romance that pops up midway through the novel -- hello, serial killer on the loose, put it back in your pants until you catch him, mmmkay?

Overall, the story was an intriguing one. The violence and brutality featured in the novel are not for the faint of heart. However, for those looking for a disturbing, atmospheric mystery to complement this time of year, Sworn to Silence is a a perfect fit. That said, I don't think I'll read the sequel that continues the story of Kate Burkholder; one was enough for me.

In a nutshell: Disturbing, taut, and compelling, Sworn to Silence probably shouldn't be read late at night, especially if you live alone.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: downloaded a version o'this for me Kindle

RIPV: Sworn to Silence is the second book that counts toward this year's RIP challenge.

Delightful, intelligent, insightful, etc. etc. etc.

Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives
David Eagleman

It's always a pleasure to find that glowing blurbs get it right. Too often in my experience, a surfeit of praise indicates a turd. Not this time. Sum lives up to its praise -- and then some.

Sum is a collection of forty short (some only a page) tales that investigate "entirely new frameworks" (to quote the author in an interview) of the afterlife. You won't find people just hanging out on clouds: instead, you might relive all your experiences of the same type at once (that means sitting on the toilet for five months); you might find yourself with a disappointed God; you might even find yourself with the aliens who created humanity as an experiment. Would you like it if heaven were populated by only those people you knew in life? Perhaps -- perhaps not.

Eagleman's prose is so simple, yet so lovely, he makes it seem like anyone can write like he does. The stories are short, powerful, and intelligent, and I would bet it's nearly impossible to find a reader who didn't like this book.

If you'd like a sample, three excerpts are available online. Click here to read "Expectations," just one of the forty scenarios in which you just might find yourself.

In a nutshell: Why didn't I think of this? Oh, because I'm not that smart. Or that intelligent. Damn you, Eagleman.

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: alll miiiiine

Required Reading: The Sparrow

The Sparrow
Mary Doria Russell

Oh, The Sparrow. Where do I even begin?

I finished this book weeks ago, and yet I have not been able to put metaphorical pen to paper, until now. The interim has been filled with ceaseless pondering, The Sparrow continuing to occupy my mind even as I read several other novels.

Even now, scenes and characters from the novel still wander the halls of my mind, poking in at inopportune moments. When you consider that this is MDR's first novel, my envy is complete. Damn you, woman.

Before beginning with the obligatory summary, I must first state, as others have before me, that, although The Sparrow is classified as science-fiction, you should ignore this label if sci-fi ain't your bag. Although it may feature elements of sci-fi, this is literary fiction all the way.

Okay, on with the obligatory: The Sparrow follows two different timelines; we begin in 2059, when Emilio Sandoz, the lone survivor of an expedition to a faraway planet called Rakhat, returns to earth. Immediately an inquest is opened to discover the fates of the other explorers, but Sandoz is far too traumatized to offer up his secrets.

Before we can get too far, however, we are returned to 2019, as humanity first discovers life exists on Rakhat. While scanning the skies for extraterrestrial radio transmissions, beautiful, hymn-like singing can be heard. Because such music is nearly identical to our own songs of worship, many wonder if Rakhat can offer proof for the existence of God.

Quicker than you can shake a finger (or maybe not, if you happen to be Sandoz), eight intrepid explorers are off to meet the inhabitants of Rakhat. What they encounter is beyond all imagination and prompts them to question the meaning of faith, existence, and humanity. As an agnostic (something I dislike about myself, thanks to Yann Martel), I found this book very powerful; believers and non-believers alike cannot help but be affected by this novel.

In a nutshell: This crap review falls quite short of the power that is The Sparrow; simply put, you MUST read this book.

Oh, and Brad Pitt is set to play Emilio Sandoz? BLASPHEMY!

Oh, and, and -- many thanks to Heather for bringing this book to my attention!

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: Personal copy, woot woot

The Classics Circuit: Emile Zola

Therese Raquin
Emile Zola

Today I'm pleased to welcome Emile Zola as part of the the Classics Circuit!

For my stop on the Classics tour, I've read Therese Raquin, which has been on my TBR list for years. The tour finally gave me the kick in the pants I needed in order to get this thing done.

And now that I've read it, I can't help but wonder...what took me so long? Because, hands down, Therese Raquin was an INSANE read. INSANE! I was shocked by how graphic and disturbing this short novel was, and I can only imagine how Zola's readers reacted when it was first published almost 150 years ago.

In Therese Raquin, Zola is more concerned with temperament than character. So he combines three different "humors" and allows them to go crazy. There's phlegmatic Camille (who is NOT a girl, despite what my brain kept telling me), who is married to Therese, who is choleric and therefore full of energy. As you might think, Camille + Therese = unhappy marriage. And the two, together with Madame Raquin, Camille's maman, pass day after day after day doing THE SAME FRIGGIN THING over and over and over. LE SIGH.

Why, yes, there IS a cat in Therese Raquin, but sadly he is lacking bacon

Therese is resigned to her life of eternal return with only other "living corpses" to keep her company as her life unwinds.

BUT THEN! Entre Laurent. He's a beast! He's a man! He's pure sex on wheels! (Oh, and he's also sanguine, so he's creative and extroverted and if you really want to know more about humors then just go here). So Therese starts making googly eyes at Laurent and then before you know it THEY'RE HAVING SEX ON THE BEDROOM FLOOR.

Add lots of animal imagery, some plotting, more sex and what the back of my edition describes as "a crime that will haunt them forever" and you have the book in a nutshell.

Again, I was stunned by the graphic nature of Therese Raquin, and I was pleasantly surprised by the fast-paced nature of the plot. While I hated every single one of the characters (with the exception of Madame Raquin, the feisty little minx), I was still able to enjoy the novel -- surely a testament to Monsieur Zola. So thanks again to the the Classics Circuit for giving me reason to get my rear in gear.

In a nutshell: The melodrama! The gruesomeness! The cat! (Vraiment, Laurent?) Therese Raquin is fast enough to be read in a day, yet powerful enough to last a lifetime. (Possibly. It's only been a few days.)

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: Personal copy over here.

Speak now or forever hold your peace

Speak
Laurie Halse Anderson

I needed something to break my reading funk, and I knew Speak was just the book to do it.

I feel as though I'm the last person on earth to read Laurie Halse Anderson (I generally don't read YA fiction, not because I'm against it, per se, but more because I simply forget YA titles when considering what next to read), so a summary of Speak is probably not necessary. You want a summary anyway, you say?

Ok: Speak = Teen outcast + freshman year + many problems + no friends + A BIG SECRET. That, in essence, is the novel.

Of course, there's a lot more to Speak than just that. Nearly everyone can relate to Melinda in one way or another, even if you've never experienced some of her problems. While it does have a few flaws -- the end, for one, didn't sit right with me, and some points could have been better developed/resolved -- Speak remains a fast, engaging read by an author whose other books I need in my life. Now.

In a nutshell: Teen outcasts are good for adult non-outcasts, too.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4.5 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: You can see where this is headed, no? Yep, I bought this one. Surprise!

A guide to navigation in perilous times

The Time Traveler's Guide to Medieval England
Ian Mortimer

I don't read a lot of nonfiction, and when I do, it's almost never history. Still, Jen's review of The Time Traveler's Guide to Medieval England forced me to run out and grab this book immediately.

The tone is so conversational, the material so fascinating, that I blew through the book in a day or two. True, I skimmed some parts, but I was pleased overall. Mortimer takes us through Medieval England as though -- you might have guessed by the title -- we were a time traveler having landed in medieval England.

Mortimer very throughly covers the landscape, people, medieval character, basic essentials (such as dates, units of measurement, and manners and politeness), clothing, traveling, where to stay (an inn? what about a monastery?), food and drink, health and hygiene (now there's an eye-opening chapter!), the law, and what to do (which provides not only a discussion of the activities the medieval people enjoyed, but also gives an overview of the literary landscape).

At right: a leper ringing his bell -- stay away!

I began by thinking that this book would be an excellent resource for my classroom; little did I expect it to be such a page-turner. If you're even a little interested in medieval England, you'd do well to check out this very thorough guide. (In fact, despite a few slow parts, this book is nearly perfect.)

In a nutshell: Conversational, fascinating, and thorough, Mortimer's Guide is a must for teachers, students, and readers alike.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: Yet another book I purchased for myself. Get off my back, feds!

Memories are worse than bullets

The Shadow of the Wind
Carlos Ruiz Zafon

Whew! My first read of 2010 was of the magical kind, the type of novel you don't ever want to put down and the kind that haunts you after you do.

Do you even need a summary of this book? Because I feel like the last person to have read it. Also, it seems as though it's the type of novel that defies easy summary, and I am feeling particularly lazy today. (Today, you're thinking? As opposed to how you feel everyday!?!?! Touche, reader, touche. And, ouch.)

Anyway, here's something via Amazon:

The time is the 1950s; the place, Barcelona. Daniel Sempere, the son of a widowed bookstore owner, is 10 when he discovers a novel, The Shadow of the Wind, by Julián Carax. The novel is rare, the author obscure, and rumors tell of a horribly disfigured man who has been burning every copy he can find of Carax's novels. The man calls himself Laín Coubert -- the name of the devil in one of Carax's novels. As he grows up, Daniel's fascination with the mysterious Carax links him to a blind femme fatale with a "porcelain gaze," Clara Barceló; another fan, a leftist jack-of-all-trades, Fermín Romero de Torres; his best friend's sister, the delectable Beatriz Aguilar; and, as he begins investigating the life and death of Carax, a cast of characters with secrets to hide. Officially, Carax's dead body was dumped in an alley in 1936. But discrepancies in this story surface. Meanwhile, Daniel and Fermín are being harried by a sadistic policeman, Carax's childhood friend. As Daniel's quest continues, frightening parallels between his own life and Carax's begin to emerge.

Ok so that was a lot better than I'm capable of doing right now. Suffice to say, I loved reading this novel; it was fun, it was engaging, it was about books, and -- this is key -- the ending was perfect, in a heart-wrenching kind of way.

For some reason, though, I can't give it a perfect score. Why? I'm not sure. At times it was too perfect; I also have beef over some points that seemed important at the time but then didn't come to much. But these are minor quibbles. And I'm giving it a nearly perfect score, anyway.

However, this book made me feel like A Really Stupid American. Spain had a civil war?? That happened when??? For real? Who knew? Clearly, not me. To wikipedia I go!

In a nutshell: Fun, magical, both highbrow and lowbrow -- what's not to love?

Bibliolatry Scale: 5.5 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: Santa left this one at my mom's house, and she was kind enough to pass it along. Many thanks, mom!

Another day, another apocalypse

The Suicide Collectors
David Oppegaard

Another book about the end of the world! What can I say, I've been feeling a little apocalyptic.

Anyway, this one's an odd duck. So, right: the end of the world has come, this time due to the suicide of nearly everyone on the planet. After some time, these odd "suicide collectors" arrive to collect the body of the deceased. Time passes, and, as our novel opens, our protagonist (Norman) and his friend (Pops), hearing rumors of survivors in Seattle, decide to leave their homes in Florida to see what's up.

As our story unfolds, taking us through the ruins of America, we encounter survivors, who are handling the apocalypse in different ways. Some are good, some are bad, you get the point. Onward to Seattle.

Upon arriving in Seattle, Norman becomes mixed up with the scientists attempting to solve the suicide problem. And then he blows something up, although what it is, I was never sure. Unfortunately, that's the major problem with The Suicide Collectors: there's no explanation. Why did everyone start killing themselves? I dunno. Why do the collectors collect the bodies? What are they doing with them? Not sure. What is this mysterious thing Norman blows up? Not sure of that, either.

The Suicide Collectors suffers from other flaws as well; some scenes are simply too incredible, the characters somewhat flat. On the positive side, however, the plotting is fantastic and the novel barrels along, allowing me to read it entirely in the course of a few hours.

In a nutshell: Interesting idea, but a lack of explanation and clunky writing undermines the intriguing premise.

Bibliolatry Scale: 2 out of 6 stars

FTCBS: Yep, bought this one too.

Why are vampires cheap dates?

The Strain
Guillermo Del Toro and Chuck Hogan

This month, I reviewed The Strain for the mighty Pajiba.

If you're worried The Strain is simply another vampire novel, you should at least know the authors had the good sense to make them angry and hungry, not kissy and concerned. To read the review in full, click here.

In a nutshell: It's a cheap thrill and a good time. I'm looking forward to the next installment due in 2010.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars


(The answer to the riddle in the title? Because they eat necks to nothing! Hardy har har.)

Great idea, okay execution, mediocre editing

The Raw Shark Texts
Steven Hall

I've written the title first for a rare change, and I can't help but think it says it all, leaving me stumped as what to write in the actual review. Mother effer!

Okay: I've actually been reading this book FOREVER (literally almost two years), but I stalled out midway through. It's just sooooo taxing. But still, resolution and all that, so I plugged on.

It all started out so...erm, swimmingly: Eric Sanderson awakes, an amnesiac who has completely forgotten his former life. Bits and pieces return thanks to letters he has written himself. Remembering brings its own dangers, however: a Ludovician -- a conceptual shark -- is hunting him. Wait -- what?

This conceptual, metaphysical shark is not a real shark as one might expect: it hunts words, memories, thoughts. Soon Eric is on the run, hoping to avoid the shark before his memory is wiped clean again. And then things get REALLY weird.

Hall plays with words and their concepts, giving words a power they've never had before. He uses the visual appearance of the words well, too. Unfortunately, the novel gets bogged down in...well, WORDS. He's got a brilliant idea here, but the novel could have lost a good chunk of text without being the worse for wear, not to mention some scenes getting more complicated than was really necessary.

In a nutshell: Oh well.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars

I was nothing until I hated

The Secret Speech
Tom Rob Smith

This month's review has been posted at Pajiba, and this time I was excited to read Tom Rob Smith's follow up to Child 44, which I read -- and adored -- last summer.

Thankfully, The Secret Speech is just as entertaining as its predecessor. You may read my thoughts by clicking here.

In a nutshell: Fast paced and overall awesome, even if murdered children aren't a feature this time around.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time

Then We Came to the End
Joshua Ferris

Once upon a time, I worked in an office. It was the most depressing, most soul-crushing, most horrible time of my life. The seconds passed like hours, the days like weeks. I often had no work to do, yet had to appear busy (which is more difficult than it sounds, trust me). Everyone was miserable. The only relief came during those ten blissful minutes during which I tramped outside for a smoke break. In fact, even writing these few short sentences is enough to bring this time back in all its depressing glory. That's why I'm surprised to find I liked Then We Came to the End as much as I did. Although it often struck too close to home, it is truly, as The New Yorker said, a "masterwork of pitch and tone."

Then We Came to the End is both comic and tragic, both uplifting and utterly depressing. If you've spent time in an office, you'll understand how this can be so, and so you'll recognize yourself in these pages. If you've never worked in an office -- you're quite lucky, aren't you? -- allow Ferris to take you on a tour of the life that could have been yours. True, such a life is filled with moments of humor (gossip, interoffice intrigue, the occasional anecdote that helps to lighten a day), but it is often filled with moments of pain, as well, as interoffice politics, layoffs, and a general malaise abound.

Then We Came to the End follows several characters who work in an ad agency, but this novel is not so much about these characters as it is about the effect office life has on the soul. To this end, Ferris employs the first-person plural, a corporate We, if you will. This technique doesn't feel old or overdone, and it's a testament to Ferris' skill as a writer that he is able to maintain this voice for the duration of the novel (except for a short divagation to the third person in the middle). I was surprised by how connected I felt to these characters both as a group and as individuals. Although I'm not counting Then We Came to the End among the best books I've ever read, I'm glad I had the experience.

(Note: Because of the monster Drood, Then We Came to the End is the first entry in April's reading resolution.)

In a nutshell: Full of humor and pathos, Then We Came to the End lives up to the hype.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Intriguing but ephemeral

Songs for the Missing: A Novel
Stewart O'Nan

Stewart O'Nan's Songs for the Missing was March's first book in my reading resolution. It didn't rock my world, but I didn't want to hurl it across the room, either. Songs for the Missing is a melancholy, thoughtful analysis regarding what happens to those left behind after a family member disappears.

The Larsen family is thrown into disarray when Kim, their eighteen-year-old daughter, disappears on her way to work one afternoon. Unfortunately, her family doesn't realize Kim has disappeared until the next morning, and it's not surprising to find that leads are few. Kim is happy, popular, and looking forward to college in the fall: she has no reason to runaway. The search expands when Kim's car is found in a nearby town.

This isn't, however, Kim's novel. Instead, the novel zeroes in on how Kim's parents and her younger sister each cope with the crisis. Her father can't stop searching; her mother organizes the media assault and plans fundraisers; her younger sister tries to find her own place in this new, crazy world.

O'Nan's exploration of how a family is irrevocably changed by the disappearance of a core member was intriguing, but its effect faded quickly. Nearly a month after having read Songs for the Missing, I remember it as thought-provoking but ephemeral. I didn't care too much about any of the characters, and felt rather distanced from and apathetic about their plight. The effect was rather like Gloucester's wanton boys playing with their flies: I was interested in their suffering, but not moved by it.

In a nutshell: Intriguing, but not memorable

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Manderley!

Rebecca
Daphne DuMaurier

Despite my glee at April's arrival, I'm grumpy. Why? I didn't purchase a new copy of Rebecca, one of the latest titles in my reading resolution. Instead, I bought a used copy, thinking I wouldn't really care about having an old and used one.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. I've fallen in love with this most-amazing book, and now I'm pissed that I don't own a better copy. Also, I'm angry that I totally sucked on this resolution this month. And, not surprisingly, I'm behind in my reviews.

But I digress.

I feel as though I'm the only one who didn't know the story of Rebecca, so a summary probably isn't necessary. If you're one of the few left alive that hasn't raved about this book, allow me a brief recap: our young narrator has just married the man of her dreams: the rich and mysterious Maxim de Winter. Things aren't so peachy, however, after their return to the de Winter estate, Manderley. Mrs. de Winter finds it impossible to run such a large household, and it seems as though she's doomed to fail. Even worse, the housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, seems to hate her, her husband seems to be hiding something, and everywhere she turns, she is haunted by Rebecca, the first Mrs. de Winter who died a year before. You may think you know what's really going on -- but just wait. The suspense slowly builds until the mysteries of Manderley are unveiled in a stunning, surprise ending.

For years, I had heard Rebecca was good, but I didnt realize it was THAT GOOD. I couldn't put it down. I read while working, during eating -- even in the car (hubby was driving, obviously). Upon finishing the novel, I felt engulfed by the sadness one only feels at the end of a rare, amazing book. I could go on -- in fact, I can't say enough good things about Rebecca -- but now that I'm so far behind in both reading and reviewing, I haven't the time. Suffice it to say, if you haven't yet read this novel, do so immediately -- I can't imagine you'll be disappointed.

In a nutshell: Suspenseful, gorgeously written, utterly un-put-down-able -- Rebecca is a glory of a novel.

Bibliolatry Scale: 6 out of 6 stars

The Dance of the Stick FTW!

Right Livelihoods: Three Novellas
Rick Moody

I've hit a wall recently, but, to quote Ms. Dion, my heart will go on. I can do this. My reading resolution will be fulfilled.

Thankfully, having a review for Pajiba was a nice kick in the ass. This month, I've reviewed Rick Moody's Right Livelihoods. This collection of three novellas was my introduction to this author, and, even though I wasn't wowed by Right Livelihoods, I plan on reading more Moody...after the completion of my resolution, of course.

To read my review, click here.

In a nutshell: Entertaining, but not entirely satisfying.

Bibliolatry Scale: 3.5 out of 6 stars

Bummer

Travels in the Scriptorium
Paul Auster

Note: This novel was read in 2008.

Hm. This is one of those books that I know is good, but I don't feel is good. Does that make sense?

I've read that Travels in the Scriptorium shouldn't be one's first encounter with Auster, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I should have heeded this surely wise warning. I can appreciate the intellectual value behind Travels, but I wanted to be more moved by the reading.

I'll catch up with Auster again, I'm sure...but most certainly NOT before the end of 2009.

In a nutshell: Intelligent, but mostly blah overall.

Bibiolatry Scale: 3 out of 6 stars

Get your freak on

The Tutu Ballet
Sally Lee

Uh oh! Trouble's afoot (hardy har har) when Ms. Berry teaches ballet to a very diverse group of students in The Tutu Ballet. Instead of following her instructions, each student performs a "signature" move. Ms. Berry decides to make the best of the situation by organizing a ballet that highlights the talents of each of her students. As a result, Ms. Berry and her students perform the best -- or at least the most unique -- ballet ever.

As you could probably tell, The Tutu Ballet is all about individuality. Part of me was a little bothered by the message: Hey! I ranted. Real life isn't like that! You can't jump when you have to twirl! But then I realized this was a book for young children, and I suppose they can have their innocence for as long as possible.

The Tutu Ballet is probably best for really young children: the words, storyline, and pictures are very simple and engaging. I'd read The Tutu Ballet to children six years of age or younger. Or maybe four or five. Hell, we all know I'm bad at judging ages. I'll tell you what: if the kid's really smart, you should probably skip The Tutu Ballet. If, on the other hand, the child is a few bricks short of a load (not that there's anything wrong with that; I'm sure he's just a late bloomer, really) read on.

In a nutshell: Of course, The Tutu Ballet does teach the lesson that "if you want to do it, ef the rules," so caveat emptor and all that.

Bibliolatry Scale: 4 out of 6 stars

Mercy shines with even more brilliancy than justice

The Shape of Mercy
Susan Meissner

I've been behind on my blogging recently, but not my reading. One book I've recently torn through was The Shape of Mercy, by Susan Meissner.

I was pleasantly surprised by this novel; I was immediately intrigued by the subject matter (the Salem witch trials), but I still did not expect to find this novel as compelling as I did. Contrary to my expectations, I found myself unable to put this novel down and tore through it in about 2 days.

The Shape of Mercy follows two parallel storylines. First, we're given the tale of Lauren Durough, a young college girl who is looking to break free from her wealthy lineage. Trying to "do things on her own," she seeks a job, and finds one transcribing an old diary for a wealthy older woman, Abigail. The diary in question belongs to Mercy Hayworth, a victim of the Salem witch trials.

Soon, we are drawn into Mercy's world as well as Lauren's. The three main characters (Lauren, Abigail, and Mercy) are nicely drawn and never move into stereotype. Meissner creates sympathetic, intelligent characters and a taut storyline whose many facets both intrigue and surprise.

As might be expected, Lauren's world parallels both Mercy's and Abigail's, and the end of the novel satisfies even as it defies expectations. If you're looking for both a fast-paced and intelligent read, look into The Shape of Mercy.

In a nutshell: A fast-paced read that provided entertainment and insights.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars

Almondine, I love you

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle
David Wroblewski

My latest review for Pajiba has appeared, and this time I read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, Oprah's latest book club pick. I heeded her advice and deliberately ignored the book jacket; as a result, it wasn't long before I found myself in awe of the story that followed.

You may click here to read my review.

In a nutshell: Not perfect, but close enough for me.

Bibliolatry Scale: 5 out of 6 stars