Review: Wild at Heart! ❤️

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When I heard that KA Tucker was writing a sequel to The Simple Wild, I was ecstatic. Normally when there’s a “sequel” to a romance book, the author shifts the focus to a side character and expands upon his or her story. But in this case, we were getting more Jonah and Calla and I WAS HERE FOR IT. (And when she moved up the release date from March to February, I did a little happy dance.)

The Simple Wild is one of my favorite enemies to lovers romances, and while I was satisfied with the way it ended, to pick up where we left off was a dream, and pick up RIGHT WHERE WE LEFT OFF WE DID. Jonah has declared that Calla has ruined Alaska for him, and Calla can’t imagine a world without Jonah–so she packs up her many suitcases and travels north, this time for good.

I loved watching Calla and Jonah settle into their new life together in Alaska. Their love sprang up quickly and fiercely in The Simple Wild, but in Wild at Heart we get to see the roots develop. They are such different people with such vastly different life experiences and goals that it was obvious to me that there were going to be plenty of challenges to overcome before their happy ever after.

From the small bumps in the road to the giant hurdles they had to cross, I was rooting for them the entire way. The issues they faced–breakdowns in communication, different expectations, insecurity, pride, etc.–felt incredibly real because they are the issues EVERY couple has to face at some point in their relationship. It was completely relatable and refreshing to watch a couple work to make it work.

I wasn’t sure how I would feel about a book without Wren because he was such an important part of their story, but I felt like Tucker really honored Wren and his memory in this new chapter of Jonah and Calla’s story. And while the grief is still very much present, with the passing of time Calla is able to more fully process her loss. Actually, Calla grows and changes in many important ways over the course of the sequel, and I love watching her gain confidence in herself and her relationship with Jonah.

In telling more of Jonah and Calla’s story, Tucker also introduces a whole new cast of side characters in the new little town they settle into. I wish Agnes and Mabel were more a part of this story–I missed how much the little group felt like a family–but I’m pretty attached to these new characters now, too. I wish the story had been about a hundred pages longer because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Jonah, Calla, and the rest.

If I’m being honest, a few plot devices felt recycled, but I GOT MORE JONAH AND CALLA, so I am not complaining, not even a little bit. Bottom line: KA Tucker delivered a doozy of a sequel, and if you loved watching Jonah and Calla fight WITH each other in The Simple Wild, you NEED to watch them fight FOR each other in Wild at Heart.

Have I mentioned that now I really want to go back and visit Alaska again? There’s really no place in the world like it.

(Enjoy this photo of me at 17, next to one of my cousin’s planes up in Alaska circa 2004.)

Thank you to NetGalley, KA Tucker, and Butterfly PR for my advance reading copy of Wild at Heart in exchange for an honest review.

A Better (Fictional) America

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In case you haven’t noticed, our country is pretty divided these days. When my husband got home a few weeks ago, he turned on the radio and tuned into the impeachment hearings. I honestly can’t believe what is going down right now! The radio was still on while I was cleaning up dinner, and I took out my anger on the pots and pans. There was some pretty violent scrubbing going down.

Both sides–liberal and conservative–are spewing hate at what feels like an unprecedented level, and the media is eating it up. It’s disgusting to watch, quite frankly. With the hearings and scandals and twitter wars, it has been nice to escape into a fictional America, not just once but twice this fall–into an America that *could* be.

American Royals, by Katherine Mcgee, presents an American monarchy, stretching all the way back to King George Washington himself, asking the question, what would have happened if we’d given Washington a crown instead of a constitution?

The story centers on America’s two princesses, Beatrice and Samantha–one groomed to rule, careful and measured, the other rebellious and free. Their lives were decided for them based on nothing but their birth order–but what happens if they take their lives into their own hands? Or will the demands of duty win in the end? (They have a brother, the prince, but let’s face it–the stories almost always focus on the princesses.)

The first in a series, American Royals leaves a lot of questions unanswered, but I have high hopes for the sequel.

(I will admit that I felt a lot of anxiety while listening to the audiobook of this one, but then I realized that I’d forgotten to take my anxiety medication for about a week, so it was probably that instead.)

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston is the book I didn’t know I needed, but I’m so glad I found it. My friend Emily (an old high school friend who I’ve reconnected with over a shared love of all things bookish) sent me her copy, and when it came in the mail I couldn’t stop smiling. It’s the kind of America I want to live in–an America that is united, strong, and more tolerant of others and their opinions. Of course not everything is perfect, but it presents an America that is at least trying to be better.

When Alex Clairmont-Diaz’s mother becomes president, the handsome, charismatic first son becomes the media’s darling. But an altercation with the “spare heir” of England, Prince Henry, creates quite a stir, and so the two young men are forced to shake hands and fake a friendship for the sake of, well, the world. Politics, appearances, and all that. But their friendship soon becomes more real than they ever could have anticipated.

During his mother’s reelection campaign, Alex has to face the question: is America really ready for a first son to fall in love with a prince?

Red, White, and Royal Blue is quite the debut novel. I don’t think I’d ever read a LGBTQ+ romance before (well, except The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue, and The Song of Achilles…so wait, maybe I totally have), but anyway, I loved how honestly McQuiston addresses what makes us all human, what’s at the heart of us all. We all want to find love, acceptance, and belonging. We’re all a little bit broken, and we’re just looking for someone who can love us as we are, but also help fill in our gaps.

I really appreciate how more and more authors are fighting for representation and diversity in all areas of publishing–contemporary fiction, memoirs, YA, romance, etc. By reading books written by people who aren’t just like us, we can walk in someone else’s shoes for awhile, gain a different perspective, and maybe learn a little something about ourselves in the process.

We actually talked about this at our last book club meeting. The ideal goal is that we should strive for diversity by interacting with people of different races and orientations and origins–but we are, practically, limited in this endeavor by the people we actually know, the people we interact with. Some communities are simply more homogeneous than others. If that’s your situation–in my case, my day-to-day interactions tend to be with middle class white women like myself, usually moms, often stay-at-home moms–books provide a way to interact and learn from people who are essentially “not us.” Then, when we do meet and befriend and work with or go to church with people who don’t look like us or act like us or think like us, we already have a jumping off point, and hopefully we’re better equipped to be allies.*

Whether those “other” voices belong to people of color, members of the LBGTQ+ community, immigrants, or another marginalized group, they deserve to be heard, and their humanity deserves to be acknowledged.

There is value to be found in every human heart; every story is important. Let’s focus on what unites us, rather than what divides us, and maybe we’ll look back on this era of division and hatred and say with Alex and Henry, “History, huh?”

<climbs down off of soapbox and binge-watches Game of Thrones because it’s less depressing than CNN>

*I would be remiss if I did not add that platforms like Instagram and Twitter have also done a fantastic job of allowing #ownvoices to be heard, and providing a forum for learning and advocating for those in the margins.

 

Review: The Witches Are Coming

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The Witches Are Coming by Lindy West, the author of the memoir Shrill (now a series on Hulu), is a brand new collection of essays addressing the #metoo movement, fat-shaming, gender, MAGA, and more. She takes the concept of a witch hunt and turns it on its head–it’s the witches doing the hunting. I was excited to receive an ALC from Libro.fm and Hachette Audio earlier this month. And yet I only gave it 2 ⭐️s.

I feel a little bad about it. A little. But let me explain.

First, some backstory.

Until 2019, I largely only read books by people who look like me and think like me. This wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t a conscious decision I made. I just gravitated toward what was familiar. After joining Bookstagram in January, I gradually become more aware of my blind spots. I realized that I hadn’t been actively seeking out books that would challenge me. So I decided this year I needed to do better, to read more widely.

This year, I have read books by people of color, LGBTQ+ voices, and immigrants. I have read books written by people far more liberal than myself. Usually, within those pages, I can find common ground, a place of, if not complete agreement, empathy and solidarity in our shared humanity.

Reading The Witches Are Coming, though, common ground was difficult for me to find.

On paper, many of our views coincide. For instance, I don’t support Trump. I think he’s a terrible person. I stand behind victims of sexual assault and call for the perpetrators to be held accountable. Increasingly aware of my privilege, I want to be a ally, not one who does nothing.

Over the past several years, since probably 2014 or 2015, I have become a lot more moderate than I used to be (those who know me IRL will attest to this), and yet I’m sure Lindy would still lump me in with those dangerous, despicable conservatives. For instance, I will never be able to get behind #shoutyourabortion. I disagree with it, completely and emphatically. And yet, since when does having a different opinion mean we can’t have rational conversations about things that matter?

When framing her arguments, Lindy uses biting or sarcastic language to characterize entire sections of the population. As someone obviously more conservative than her but who is also an intelligent, kind person, I struggled to not feel personally and unfairly attacked. The language she uses is not meant to persuade or convince but to berate and belittle. What some interpret as bold commentary came across more like a hateful rant.

I am aware that she isn’t alone in this; the current cultural climate is not one of respect and tolerance. The media and those with power to shape the narrative have fomented a toxic miasma of recrimination and disrespect.

Rhetoric (ranting?) like this creates only deeper division; her writing is devoid of empathy for anyone who disagrees with her. That to me was my biggest issue with her book, along with the feeling that it lacked a specific call to action. Yes. This is the bleak reality of our situation, but where do we go from here?

This isn’t to say, however, that I disliked it in its entirety. It has some hilarious critiques of our current culture, with lines that left me laughing out loud. Lindy is incredibly funny. She truly is an excellent writer. I just would have liked for her to be a bit…kinder, I guess.

I’m glad I finished it, in any case.

If you’re thinking of picking this one up, I’m seeing a lot of positive reviews. It was a case of me being the wrong reader for this particular collection of essays. My conservative is showing. 😆

But I wanted to be honest in my review, so there you go.

The Blogger’s Guide to Reading Good Books

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1) Go to the library.

2) Find a book with an incredibly long title and sassy cover art. Check it out and take it home.

3) Read said book.

4) Find out there’s a sequel and squeal with glee. Then read the sequel.

To be honest, I can’t guarantee it’ll work every time, but it worked out well for me with these two.

If you are looking for some rollicking historical fiction fun, look no further. I honestly don’t know why it took me so long to pick these up, but I’m glad I finally did, in any case.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee introduces us to Henry “Monty” Montague—the son of an English earl—who is a disappointment to his father in every conceivable way. As one last hurrah before he’s forced into school, he and his best friend Percy (along with Monty’s pesky sister Felicity) set out for an tour on the continent—but nothing goes according to plan. In fact, things go horribly awry.

A Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy picks up Felicity’s story as she pursues her dream of becoming (gasp!) a lady doctor. Unfortunately the medical establishment isn’t ready for that kind of audacious idea, and she’s forced to go to great lengths to find her place in the world.

I love how modern these historical YA stories feel. The societal expectations are those of history, but the human emotions and experiences the characters live through are universal. Mackenzi Lee tackles challenging topics—sexual identity, physical and emotional abuse, chronic illness, racism, alcoholism, and the role of women throughout history—in a very authentic, relatable way.

These aren’t simply 21st century problems. As long as humans have lived, we have struggled and fought and survived, all the while wondering, “how do I fit into this whole mess of a world? And will someone love me, just as I am?” Monty, Percy, and Felicity all come face to face with these questions in the pages of these books, and I loved watching them figure it out.

Lee cushions the tough issues her characters face with humor and wit, and I found myself rooting for these young people from start to finish. Their wild adventures border on the unlikely, whether they’re seeking alchemical cures, being captured by pirates, or hunting for sea dragon nesting grounds, but the stories are so much fun I didn’t care. 💛

“We are not broken things, neither of us. We are cracked pottery mended with laquer and flakes of gold, whole as we are, complete unto each other. Complete and worthy and so very loved.”

Four Friday Favourites Vol. 2

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(By the way, I am a sucker for alliteration.)

Happy November 1st! Please tell me I’m not the only one who can’t believe it’s already November. The past few months have flown by.

Last week, I enjoyed sharing four of my favourite books (adding the “u” just makes it feel more posh), and I realized that a recurring “Four Friday Favourites” would be a fun way to highlight some backlist beauties and other reading-related goodness.

This week, I’m featuring four (of the many) books I like to reread in the fall. When the days get shorter and the air turns crisp, sometimes I just need something familiar–the bookish equivalent of a favorite sweater.

Warbreaker. A Discovery of Witches. Dark Matter. The Complete Works of T.S. Eliot.

Brandon Sanderson is a master of modern fantasy. He’s well known for the Mistborn trilogy, The Stormlight Archives, and his work on The Wheel of Time series with Robert Jordan–but Warbreaker is one of my favorite stand alone fantasies, no contest. My cousin recommended it to me (it’s one of her favorites, too), and I’ve read it so many times over the past few years I’ve lost count.

A Discovery of Witches (and the other books in the trilogy) are perfect for this time of year. They’re cozy, a little creepy, and they are all about witches and vampires. I didn’t manage to squeeze a read in in October, but maybe soon! The recent TV adaptation was also fantastic. I mean, it cast Matthew Goode as Matthew Clairmont so it had to be good.

Dark Matter by Blake Crouch is a smart, brilliantly plotted science fiction thriller about alternate, parallel universes that also somehow manages to be a love story. It’s fantastic. It’s definitely not my normal genre, but I make an exception for Crouch. He as a habit of blowing my mind–first with Dark Matter, and now with his newest book, Recursion. His books are ridiculously hard to categorize in any way that makes sense. At least for me. But that’s what makes them awesome.

And finally, I could talk about T.S. Eliot for days. I wrote my senior history capstone thesis on Eliot in college—I found both his life and his writings fascinating. And it was his poetry that helped me through some of my darkest periods of depression. I’ve written extensively about my mental health journey on my Instagram account. I’ve battled anxiety and depression for years, but when I was a college freshman, I didn’t yet have the words or the diagnoses to make sense of everything I was feeling.

Eliot’s poetry was a balm to the anxieties and loneliness that plagued me. He found solace in scripture and liturgy, and his words helped lead me to a place of peace, as well. Even now, each fall, I lose myself in “The Four Quartets” or “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” and it’s like I’ve reunited with an old friend.

Until next week, friends–may you only read books that bring you joy. 💛

Book Review: Ninth House

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I am a daughter of Lethe, and the wolves are at the door.

I had seen Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo around bookstagram, but I hadn’t paid it much attention. Until someone mentioned magic. Magic is my catnip. How had I missed this?! I had been living under a rock, apparently.

I hopped over to libro.fm and added it to my cart. I have credits built up for just this kind of impulsive download. Ninth House did not disappoint. It is, in fact, one of the best fantasy novels I’ve read in a very long time.* It’s gritty. It’s honest. It’s driven by a raw, rough, and dirty kind of magic–where stock market predictions are divined through human intestines and magical drugs can force compliance–without limits.

Alex Stern, the story’s protagonist, is plucked from the shady underbelly of Los Angeles and dropped into Yale’s world of privilege and power. She is recruited by Lethe, the “Ninth House” that oversees the other eight “Houses of the Veil,” the secret societies of Yale, each endowed with its own unique kind of magic. But Alex is not typical Lethe material. She’s different. She isn’t accomplished or academic. She’s a high school drop out, a recovering drug addict, and a victim. But she’s also a survivor. Oh, and she can see ghosts.

Alex works hard to settle into her new life at Yale, under the supervision of Darlington, her guide in this new world of the occult. But one night, he disappears, and Alex is left alone, with an incomplete understanding of the magic she’s supposed to be shepherding. Then a murder rocks the town of New Haven, and she is drawn into the mystery–which will take her to dark and dangerous places, drawn in by insidious forces she can’t begin to understand.

Ninth House is not an easy book to read. The writing is atmospheric, and the system of magic compelling, but the violence throughout the narrative is pervasive and intense. I found myself sucked in by the story, but if I paused to visualize what was happening (or had happened), the actual violence of the events was horrific. It’s a difficult, heavy read. Additionally, this is not a fast-paced book. There’s a lot of meandering, and the narrative is set up as a series of flash-backs and flash-forwards–between the fall semester and the spring semester, before Darlington disappears, and after.

There are periods of intense action; there are lulls. And there is necessarily quite a bit of exposition about the unique magics involved and Alex’s personal history. Setting up a new world can take quite a bit of time and effort, even a world grounded in our own, and I can’t wait to see how the series evolves over time.

Personally, I loved how Bardugo tied together all these small details together to create such a complete picture of Alex and her character. She isn’t naturally strong, brave, or loyal. She’s a survivor, yes, but she’s been irrevocably changed by what she’s experienced. She’s been damaged, broken, and abandoned, and she can’t just emerge from all of that without scars. I think that’s what I liked most about her. Her scars, her doubts, her skepticism and insecurities–those are the things that make her human, and her growth from the beginning to the end reveals the tenacity of her spirit.

Bottom line: I thought it was utterly fascinating. I loved it. This was my first exposure to Leigh Bardugo, but I’d say her transition from YA to adult fantasy was a roaring success.

I am aware, however, Ninth House isn’t the book for everyone. Be sure to check out the entire catalogue of trigger warnings at the end of this post because there are multiple issues in the book that could be problematic depending on the reader.

TW: rape (of a minor), sexual assault, suicide, drug use, overdose, murder, intense violence, mutilation, PTSD, gore, possession. (This would definitely be rated “R” if it were a movie. And they’d have to cut parts of it to achieve an “R.”)

*Obviously I’m making a distinction here between fantasy and high fantasy. Throne of Glass 4eva!

SYNOPSIS: Galaxy “Alex” Stern is the most unlikely member of Yale’s freshman class. Raised in the Los Angeles hinterlands by a hippie mom, Alex dropped out of school early and into a world of shady drug dealer boyfriends, dead-end jobs, and much, much worse. By age twenty, in fact, she is the sole survivor of a horrific, unsolved multiple homicide. Some might say she’s thrown her life away. But at her hospital bed, Alex is offered a second chance: to attend one of the world’s most elite universities on a full ride. What’s the catch, and why her?

Still searching for answers to this herself, Alex arrives in New Haven tasked by her mysterious benefactors with monitoring the activities of Yale’s secret societies. These eight windowless “tombs’ are well-known to be haunts of the future rich and powerful, from high-ranking politicos to Wall Street and Hollywood’s biggest players. But their occult activities are revealed to be more sinister and more extraordinary than any paranoid imagination might conceive.

Book Review: Twice In A Blue Moon

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As soon as Christina (&) Lauren announce an upcoming book, I preorder it faster than you can say “oohhemmgeeeee.” After laughing my way through The Unhoneymooners, I was counting down the days until their next book hit the shelves. October 22nd couldn’t get here soon enough.

Twice In A Blue Moon arrived on my porch last Thursday morning, and I finished it before I went to bed that night. While it didn’t immediately hook me like The Unhoneymooners or Roomies (or Josh and Hazel), it was ultimately a sweet, slower-paced (moderately steamy) romance from one of my favorite writing duos.

It had a definite YA vibe at the beginning, as a young Tate and Sam meet and fall instantly in love during a vacation in London. Love at first sight has to be done right to work, and CLo did it right. (The YA feel has been the biggest complaint I’ve seen about it on bookstagram, but as a lover of YA, this didn’t bother me at all.) After a devastating betrayal, the story jumps forward in time 14 years, and this sweet second-chance romance is a slow-burn to a satisfying conclusion.

Where The Unhoneymooners was hysterically funny, Twice In A Blue Moon is warmer and more tender. It’s not laugh-out-loud; it’s quiet with a warm cup of tea. As much as Tate and Sam’s love had me crossing my fingers and grinning, it was the love story between Sam’s grandparents that had me wiping my eyes. It was Roberta and Luther’s love that was the heart of the story and guided Tate and Sam to their own happy ending.

Twice in a Blue Moon is beautifully written, crafted with a nuanced tenderness. While it wasn’t the romantic comedy I expected, it was compelling in its exploration of love and what it can overcome. Can someone possibly do the wrong thing for the right reason? Can a once in a lifetime love happen twice?

A portion of the book is written as a screenplay, a story within a story. Because of this, I feel like this book would work really well, possibly even better, as a movie. I’d go see it in a heartbeat.

 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️!!

Also, many thanks to Libro.fm and Simon and Schuster audio for the free ALC of the Twice in a Blue Moon audiobook!

Review: Being Mortal

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For human beings, life is meaningful because it is a story. A story has a sense of a whole, and its arc is determined by the significant moments, the ones where something happens…and in stories, endings matter. (p. 238)

Being Mortal by Atul Gawande is perhaps one of the most meaningful books I have read this year. At the beginning of 2019, I resolved to read more non-fiction books, and when this title was suggested as one of our book club selections this month, I knew it was one I needed to read. In fact, I think everyone needs to read it.

In Being Mortal, Gawande presents us with a problem. Death and dying are realities we will all eventually confront. Someone we love will die, and we will, as well. But in the age of modern medicine, with the focus being on saving and prolonging life, medical professionals are struggling with how to treat patients in the final stages of life–the elderly, the frail, the terminally ill, the dying.

Our most cruel failure in how we treat the sick and the aged is the failure to recognize that they have priorities beyond merely being safe and living longer; that the chance to shape one’s story is essential to sustaining meaning in life; that we have the opportunity to refashion our institutions, our culture, and our conversations in ways that transform the possibilities for the last chapters of everyone’s lives. (p. 243)

While I was reading this book, my elderly grandmother–who is in a wheelchair and is almost completely deaf–suffered a stroke and has gone from living (relatively) independently in her assisted living apartment to a hospital bed. Her prognosis is good–she will most likely, with physical therapy, regain her ability to live on her own–but it made the information and the wisdom in the pages of this book feel immediately personal.

My other grandmother, who passed away almost two years ago, lived with dementia for years before she succumbed to a massive stroke. She spent a week, unconscious, in hospice care as her body slowly shut down. I watched her quick decline and have spent the intervening months ruminating on some of the last words she spoke before losing the ability to speak–“not afraid.” She had been afraid of losing her mind, but she was not afraid of death.

The entire concept of “old age” has changed dramatically in the last several centuries. Life expectancy has increased over time as living conditions have improved and medicine has found ways to overcome illness and disease. And the manner of death is largely changed, as well. Before, it was very common for an otherwise healthy person to get sick and very quickly decline and die, all within a few days. Now, with life-saving measures and intensive care units, the process of dying can take weeks or months. And one has to wonder, is that really best for the one who is dying?

In relating life to a story, Gawande highlights that, just like in stories, the end of life matters. Endings matter. They matters tremendously–both to the person who is dying and to those they leave behind.

Our ultimate goal, after all, is not a good death, but a good life to the very end. (p. 245)

If you genuinely desire to understand, as the subtitle says, “medicine and what matters in the end,” this book is essential reading. I’m very much looking forward of our book club discussion next week.

Four Friday Favourites

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(Because who doesn’t love a good British spelling.)

Lately I’ve found myself in a bit of a book-slump. I just haven’t had as much time to read, and when I do, the books I pick up just don’t hold my interest, so I’ve been book-hopping. Over on Instagram, I posted a slump-induced stack of four of my favourite books.

Outlander. Throne of Glass. The Unhoneymooners. Circe.

To be honest, I have so many “favourites” that it borders on ridiculous. But that’s what happens when you read more than a hundred books a year, and have been reading voraciously since age three.

There are just so many wonderful books.

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon is one of those books I wish I could read again for the very first time. It’s a perfect blend of romance and historical fiction, and I ate it up. Claire and Jamie’s love story is just so timeless. The length of the individual books can feel daunting, and they are not for the faint of heart, but these characters are friends I will cherish forever. The audiobooks are also fantastic. The narrator, Davina Porter, is just remarkable. (TW: rape, assault, violence)

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas is a relatively recent addition to my bookshelf, thanks to a recommendation from my friend Autumn. I blew through the entire series in the spring and have already reread them. What’s not to love? Assassins. Magic. An ancient enemy. It’s fantasy at its finest. (And I know at the beginning seven books can feel like a huge commitment, but something just clicks halfway through book three, the story takes off, and it’s an effortless race to the finish.) (TW: violence, assault)

The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren is hysterical. Laugh out loud funny. Olive and Ethan stole my heart. Then again, I love pretty much every book CLo has written. They were my first “auto-buy” authors, and I will continue to buy anything they publish. Ever. With each new release, my copy makes the rounds through my bookclub gals. I am not alone in my fan-girling.

Circe, by Madeline Miller. Oh Circe. She took me by surprise. Having historically not been a huge fan of mythology, I took a chance on this Book on the Month last year, and I’m glad I did. Miller takes the witch from Greek mythology, a mere footnote in The Odyssey, and transforms her into a woman of strength and resilience. She’s a sympathetic protagonist–tragic but not a victim. Her story moved me to tears, and I walked away from the book wishing she were real. (TW: rape/sexual abuse)

I can’t guarantee a “favourites” post every Friday (because life), but I think it would be a fun series to continue as time and life allows.

What are some of your favorite books?Which book do you return to again and again?

I finally read THE vampire book.

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In honor of Halloween (admittedly not my favorite holiday), I sat down with Dracula, a deliciously dark tale of vampires and those who slay them. [maniacal laugh]  It was definitely a different type of book than most of what I’ve been reading this year. Published in 1897, it’s an epistolary novel written entirely as a series of letters, journal entries, ship logs, and newspaper clippings. Its slower pace fit well with the gradually building suspense. It’s definitely old-school gothic horror.

I am a sucker (ha, an accidental pun!) for vampire novels, and have read everything from Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire to Twilight, A Discovery of Witches to the Anita Blake and True Blood series. To my horror, however, I realized I’d never read the ultimate vampire book–Dracula.

If you’re used to the sparkly breed of vampire, you won’t find that here. In Dracula, Bram Stoker creates this mythical, monstrous creature–a pale man with red eyes and an evil aspect, who can control animals and the weather, change into a bat or even mist at will, who sleeps in a coffin during the day, and wrecks havoc on the warm-blooded at night. He cannot enter without an invitation and can be repelled by sacred items and garlic. A stake through the heart and a quick decapitation spells his doom.

If you ever wondered where many of our vampiric conventions come from, here’s your answer. Dracula is a classic for a reason. And Stoker actually spent years researching this book, combing through legends and folklore of eastern Europe to piece together the picture we have today of the vampire. And of course, he also introduces another archetype–the vampire hunter–with his memorable and passionate Dr. Van Helsing.

It really makes one consider the implications of immortality and the lengths people will go to prolong their lives. In the case of a vampire, immortality comes at the cost of countless other lives. (No vegetarian vampires here.) Dracula’s motivations are selfish and diabolical. When one lives for centuries, I suppose one would become the most important person in one’s world.

Mina Harker, one of the main characters, is faced with the possibility of becoming one of the undead, and her reaction is completely opposite to that of many in the thrall of a vampire. She does not desire immortality or to become like Dracula. She would willingly die to save others. In fact, she demands that her husband be prepared to kill her, should she turn completely.

Anyway, if you want to go totally crazy, you can go down the literary criticism rabbit hole and find all kinds of crazy theories and interpretations. It’s amusing, but mama ain’t got time for that today. I’m not an English major writing papers for my literary criticism class anymore. (But man, deconstruction was a fun one.)

I’m in the middle of about four books right now of various genres, but I’d really like to read The Haunting of Hill House before October ends because this is basically the only month I bother to read scary books. (I’m a wimp.)

What are some of your favorite scary or creepy reads? I’ll make a list (for next October). (Ha.)