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 When she was young, Harper Connolly was struck with a bolt of lightning, and ever since then has had something of a connection with dead people. She can sense bodies, causes of death, and sometimes even flashes back into that person’s life to witness their death from their perspective. It’s more than a little stressful, but Harper uses her unusual talent to help people figure out the causes of their loved ones’ deaths, for a fee. When she and her stepbrother travel to a small town in the Ozarks to try and find the body of a local teenager, they realise that there’s a whole lot more than a suicide going on – and no one wants Harper to figure out the truth.
While this was absolutely nothing like the Sookie Stackhouse series, I still enjoyed it a surprising amount for a mystery. I don’t normally like mysteries, and I wouldn’t really call this one of my favorite books, but it held its own as a short, enjoyable read for an afternoon or two. The book is quite dark overall, which makes sense; the very nature of the book means that Harper is pretty much always thinking about death, how people died, and whether or not she’s about to be killed herself.
When I first started reading, I wasn’t really sure I was going to enjoy the book. Harper is a strange character; she’s very edgy and often wishes she could just be a normal person. She has a strange relationship with her stepbrother as well; they’re not actually related by blood and seem to do everything together, which feels a little strange. The whole book also has a dark feel that really suits its status as a mystery. Harris is never going to win an award for the greatest writing; she still focuses a little too much on mundane details like clothes and when characters wash up, the same as she does in the Sookie series, but her writing does go down easily and the book really sped by. This is especially so as the mystery began to unravel and I became more curious about each character and where the whole situation was going.
Because the book is so short, I don’t really have too much else to say about it, but for me Grave Sight had all the trademarks of an entertaining read. I do plan to continue the series; I’m so far not quite as drawn to it as I am to Sookie, but I won’t mind staying in this world a little longer either.
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
 In order to win the hand of his sweetheart Anna, Dutch Jacob de Zoet must make his fortune, and that is how he finds himself bound for the Japanese port city Dejima. Immediately on arrival he frets about his family Bible, worrying it will be censored in a place where he isn’t permitted to practice his own religions, but as he begins to experience life at the port he realizes he has larger problems to contend with. Even when he attempts to expose injustice, he is himself punished for not colluding in various schemes to get rich quick, and he finds himself disturbingly attracted to a young midwife that couldn’t be further in character from his intended.
I am probably the only person in the entire English-speaking world that hasn’t fallen in love with this book. It’s my first read by David Mitchell and I wonder if my expectations were too high. There were things I enjoyed about it and things I didn’t; I could see its merit but I’m afraid I’m forced to conclude that this really just wasn’t perfect for me.
My main problem really was that I just didn’t get on particularly well with Mitchell’s writing style. It felt weighty and elaborate, in that it actively slowed my reading down in ways I didn’t appreciate. His writing has been praised up and down for its beauty, but I only felt like there were moments of brilliance amidst a whole lot of muck. I didn’t appreciate the clipped sentences, short paragraphs, broken dialect – all of it just genuinely frustrated me. But then he’d go off onto something else, and immediately I’d be startled out of my annoyance by a lovely passage. I especially appreciated the ones about language and thought, so much that I’ve even managed to put a bookmark in (very rare, I assure you):
The word ‘my’ brings pleasure. The word ‘my’ brings pain. These are true words for masters as well as slaves. When they are drunk, we become invisible to them. Their talk turns to owning, to profit, or loss, or buying, or selling, or stealing, or hiring, or renting, or swindling. For White men, to live is to own, or to try to own more, or to die trying to own more. Their appetites are astonishing! They own wardrobes, slaves, carriages, houses, warehouses and ships. They own ports, cities, plantations, valleys, mountains, chains of islands. They own this world, its jungles, its skies, and its seas. Yet they complain that Dejima is a prison. They complain they are not free.
When I read that, I wonder if I should have just spent more time trying to read it instead of getting annoyed that the book would not be read at my pace.
Anyway, I liked other parts of the book too, such as Jacob’s overall honesty and faith. I thought he was a wonderful character; I liked the other Dutch characters considerably less and as a result I wasn’t crazy about the sections set on the port. What I really did enjoy was Orito’s narrative in the middle, in actual Japan. This was the first and last part of the book that I was actually compelled by and genuinely enjoyed reading.
And then I got to the end, and suddenly had a strange nostalgic fondness for the whole journey. I thought the end was really well done and got across not only the epic nature of Jacob’s life but also the very fleeting nature of it. Who is going to care what we’ve done, what we’ve stood for, after we’re dead? Unless we are very famous – and even then only sometimes – no one is going to remember.
So I closed the book feeling a lot more gracious towards it than I did when I started, and that’s why this review is so conflicted. Because I genuinely did not like parts of it, felt they were a slog, wished I didn’t have to read the book. Then I loved other parts of it and wished the whole book could have made me feel that way. I can certainly see why The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet has been nominated for the Booker prize, and I have decided I will try some of Mitchell’s other work to see if I like it better. This one was an effort, but I do think it was worth it, and I’m glad I read it.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 Ten year old Margaret Beaufort wants to devote her life to prayer, perhaps becoming an abbess in the process, since she can’t ride to the glory of her country like Joan of Arc. As she grows and gives birth to a son at the age of 13, though, Margaret realizes that she is called to a different purpose, to put her son on the throne of England. Through three marriages and countless smiles of false loyalty, Margaret never loses sight of her goal, even when it drives away all the people who might once have loved her.
Once again, Philippa Gregory has written a book which has me a little bit torn. It didn’t start off well. I didn’t believe Margaret Beaufort would idolize Joan of Arc. As far as I’m aware, English people at the time merely thought of Joan as an heretic, when they thought of her at all. I severely doubt a ten year old girl would have ever even heard of her, let alone decided she wanted to be her. And it got worse when she believed her pregnancy was of paramount importance to England. The wars were starting, yes, but the king had a son, and even if he didn’t the Yorkists had a better claim since they weren’t descended from a line specifically NOT allowed to take the throne. Henry did become the Lancastrian claimant, but only because literally every other choice was dead.
Perhaps those are not on the strict factual side like dates, but they stuck out and annoyed me, so I figured I’d include them; they both do enhance the story, so I can’t really blame her. After that, the plot improved significantly and I didn’t land on anything else that had me really irritated. I seriously cannot read a book about the Wars of the Roses without picking something out that I don’t like or think is inaccurate – so others are free to ignore my complaints and/or dispute me as they like.
Secondly, Margaret annoyed me beyond belief. Her stance of declaring her whole life preordained by God, her coldness and selfishness – not at all in line with a woman who truly deserved to be called by God – had me pretty much crossing my fingers that Gregory would change history just so Henry could not become king of England. I wanted to smack her so she would show some sort of emotion besides cold-hearted ambition. The author did not succeed in making her a sympathetic character in any way.
Negativity aside, though, this was actually quite an enjoyable book to read. It read quickly and was surprisingly exciting, especially since Margaret saw hardly any action herself. She’s also a bit of a rare subject for a novel, so I actually enjoyed seeing things from her point of view even if I did want to punch her most of the time. In fact, she fit my previous perceptions of her pretty closely. Much as I wanted her to become sympathetic, it’s hard to imagine that woman who had some sort of kindness in her could turn into the Margaret Beaufort who later moved into the palace with Henry VII. The fact that I could actually enjoy reading a book about such an irritating woman is perhaps a testament to the fact that Gregory can tell a story well.
If you enjoy historical fiction, I do believe you will enjoy The Red Queen. Gregory does a good job bringing history alive and even the changes she makes that have me annoyed do fit the context of the story. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed this one quite as much as The White Queen, but I would recommend both.
In conjunction with the Simon & Schuster UK blog tour, I have five copies of this book to give away to UK and Ireland residents! If you’d like to enter, please fill out the form below. The giveaway is open until midnight UK time Monday August 16th.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 Lenah Beaudonte can’t stand the cruelty and sadness of being a vampire; she longs to be human again. With the sacrifice of her lifetime love, Rhode, Lenah’s dream comes true, and she awakens a sixteen-year-old human who, like every other teenager, must go to school and make friends. Lenah has been asleep for 100 years and as a result, needs to learn quite a few things about the twenty-first century; she has never listened to a CD, seen a vehicle, or used a computer. She’s also in danger, as her coven will be looking for her just one month after she awakens. Can she become human enough in that time to avoid their detection?
I liked the concept of this book a lot better than I liked its execution. The vampires in Maizel’s world all long to be human, and when they cease longing for it, they go mad and must be killed. People are rarely turned of their own free will for this reason, and are instead enraptured by a vampire’s charm, which isn’t always the case in other paranormal books I’ve read recently. While vampires have supernatural senses, they lose a lot of their human feelings and become angry, vicious creatures; they’re seductive but they won’t be having relationships with human beings any time soon.
I think in large part the reason I didn’t enjoy this book as much as I might have is that it felt a little too melodramatic for my mood. It’s somewhat deservedly melodramatic; life is actually at stake quite a lot of the time, and Lenah has reasons to feel that way. It just felt very teenage to me in a way I didn’t like; in fact, I’m beginning to wonder if a lot of this vampire-y romance-y YA isn’t for me just because it does feel teenage, and I’d prefer not to remember feeling like everything was the end of the world. It may make romance seem more breath-taking, but I think I prefer relationships that don’t feel like they’re about to end any second – in life and in reading.
It also bugged me just a little bit that of course Lenah falls in love with the big, blond jock, who only likes her because she’s beautiful. Perhaps he learns later on, but I never really felt like he did, and actually never liked him much at all; how much sweeter would the book have been if she’d instead chosen Tony, her Japanese friend? Once again, the minority ended up the sidekick and the heroine fell in love with the hunky white guy. I have to confess I was disappointed, even though I read it would happen right on the back cover.
Also, I must admit that I was wondering where on earth the name Lenah came from in fifteenth century England. Let’s not mention Rhode. I’ve never seen anyone with those names in any of the reading I’ve done, and no medieval English person would get an award for baby name creativity. I had to tell myself they’d changed their names when they became vampires, because in real life they would probably have been Anne and Edward. I’d love to know if the author got these names from somewhere and if so, where, just for my own edification.
I am just about the only person who didn’t fall in love with Infinite Days. It was a good story, but I just didn’t manage to enjoy it as much as I thought I should have. Here are a few more reviews so you can form your own opinion:
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 Four women at crucial times in their lives find themselves joining together to form a catering business. Ellie is a Junior League wife and mother, confused about where her marriage is heading; Daisy is a vivacious, young single mother who has struggled along trying to provide for her clever, nerdy daughter; Cat, the only childless member of the group, has just been dumped by the boyfriend who previously defined her life; and Josephine, a woman looking to do her best at founding a business. Together, these women form the Jelly Jar sisterhood and aim for success and happiness above all else.
I’ll be honest; this book was a bit of a perfect storm of things I didn’t like. With that in mind though, it’s worth noting that I have recently liked books with large women’s fiction components (although I’d say this is a very light version of that), Christian characters, and set in the present. So I can get on all with all the elements of this book, but set up like this it just didn’t work for me.
I can start by expressing disappointment with the characters. The narration switches around between them and I can tell you that they are so indistinct that I didn’t notice until I realized one didn’t have kids and the others did. They all sound exactly the same. I didn’t pay attention to the chapter headings, but I never do, so I guess you could call it my fault, but that doesn’t fix the fact that only Daisy is at all different from the other three women in tone. In fact she was the only woman who had anything close to an interesting life or personality.
I also didn’t really feel like the story went anywhere. Jelly Jar stayed at about the same level; nothing was really gained by the end of the book except a friendship that was a little too, well, sweet. It felt unrealistic. Each woman had her own problems, but not much really changed by the end of the book. Even the couple that was in serious relationship trouble merely goes to counseling, and we don’t even read about their decision to do so, we’re just told about it.
Then there was the Christianity, which was too heavy for my tastes. I won’t go into detail, but I will say that I remember the last Christian fiction book I read, The Red Siren, with a lot more fondness than I’ll remember this one. I’d happily read more in that series; I would prefer not to read any more in this one.
I hesitated to post this review because it is so negative. Others have enjoyed this book a lot more than I have. In the end I decided it was worth getting my voice out there. If you do enjoy Christian fiction about women’s friendships, you may enjoy How Dolly Parton Saved My Life.
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
 Empress Wu was the first woman in Chinese history to become a reigning empress. Getting there wasn’t easy; as a lower concubine, which she became at the age of 13, Wu was little more than a servant, and would have been banished to a convent forever on the death of Emperor Taizong. Luckily for her, she encountered his son Gaozong before his death, and Gaozong became enamored with her, taking her from the convent and eventually replacing his current empress with her. With that mission accomplished, Wu set forth on her goal to achieve recognition for herself and, in some ways, for all Chinese women; her methods may have been brutal, but so was the time in which she lived.
Anyone who thinks the Tudors are exciting and scandalous should try on the 7th century Chinese for a change! I was frankly amazed at all the drama, scandal, and murder that went on in this court and over the course of the book. It’s fairly well documented but even so, I’m quite shocked that other people can treat each other so badly and not really seem to notice. This book was nothing short of exciting, especially for non-fiction; it’s no wonder that Wu’s life has been depicted in writing and in film a number of times over the years.
I didn’t know too much about Wu to start with; I had never read anything about her, but after I finished Under Heaven I set out looking for non-fiction about the same time period. This is set a number of years before, but the events herein had a large impact on the following history, so I just went with this book. Let me tell you, my interest in Chinese history is properly rewarding. Wu was a completely fascinating woman and I’m surprised that we have so much information on someone who lived so long ago. I can place her nicely in the context of Europe and I’m amazed at how different the cultures are.
I was also surprised at how many things were the same in China as they would be in the late nineteenth century. Now, I haven’t read any non-fiction about that period yet, but just from reading Empress Orchid I recognized the huge palaces, the tropes of different levels of concubines with different names brought in purposely to please the emperor, the huge amount of ceremonial events, and of course the endless intrigue.
What I loved most about this book, however, was easily Clements’s even-handed treatment of Wu and all of her cronies. Yes, she did some pretty terrible things; there were some more terrible things she might have done or her relatives might have done under her name; and then there were good things that she did. For example, she murdered the Empress before her and a rival concubine by drowning them in wine after dismembering them. She also may have conveniently offed her kids. That’s pretty bad, and I don’t think anyone is going to absolve her of those crimes. But she also raised the profile of women by increasing the mourning time for mothers and insisting on incorporating female halves of traditionally male ceremonies. Yes, she was ruthless and furthered her own ambitions, but she also did her part to make women important, too.
I also loved at the end how Clements stepped back and looked at Wu’s behavior in light of other, male emperors, and came to the conclusion that she behaved similarly to them. She had lots of lovers, she killed her enemies, but China prospered under her rule. Men who behaved just like that were regarded as heroes, while she has been regularly vilified throughout history. Is it just because a woman had the daring to act like a man?
I don’t know, but I like historians who question prejudice about women. Murder is never a good thing, but should a woman be condemned for it more than a man? I don’t think so.
Anyway, I’ll just conclude by highly recommending Wu. I think the subtitle (the Chinese empress who schemed, seduced, and murdered her way to become a living God) isn’t so good, but the book itself is just excellent.
I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library – but you can bet I’ll be buying this guy’s other books.
 When I was a kid, I didn’t have a TBR pile. I’m not very old, but back then there wasn’t anything close to the river of books I’m swimming in these days. We didn’t have the internet and when we did, it was painfully slow dial-up. We didn’t know about buying books online. I hardly ever saw the inside of an actual bookstore; full-price books were too expensive. I dreamed of the day I could walk into Barnes and Noble and buy whatever I wanted. If I did get a book, it usually came from KMart or, best of all, the school book order.
Most of the books I read from school age until middle school were from the book order. I can still remember the excitement of looking through this folded-over paper which contained the books I would be reading for the next couple of months. Even better was the day they arrived and a lovely stack of TBR books was mine. They never lasted long; I bombed through books as a kid and almost everything I owned was read over and over again, even if I didn’t like it very much.
 My first forays into the world of adult books were romance novels, starting with Joining by Johanna Lindsey. This was about when Wal-Mart showed up in my town and they had these types of books for $3.50. This price was acceptable to my parents, and so I began to slowly amass a collection of romances. A TBR pile followed, but it was so tiny I kept it next to my pillow on my bed. I usually had about five books to choose from, and I was still rereading books from my younger days.
Then I hit high school and discovered fantasy novels. I’m not sure what else happened, but my TBR pile actually started to grow. Either my parents started buying me more books or I started asking for them for Christmas and birthdays to the exclusion of everything else. The TBR pile moved from on my bed to the floor next to it and I remember gleefully organizing the books in the order that I planned to read them. I distinctly remembering moving Winter’s Heart by Robert Jordan to the top of the pile because I just couldn’t wait to continue his series. I  stopped rereading books so much because I had more of them and I no longer needed to; they were also of the epic fantasy variety and rereading started taking a long time.
When I went to college, I took some of my TBR pile with me, along with old favorites. The pile slowly grew as I acquired books for various reasons. The biggest catalyst was discovering LibraryThing in late 2006, when I realized there were lots of people who loved books just as much as I did, and my awareness of books exploded. Then, in 2007, I started reviewing books here, and really got into it in 2008 when I graduated. We also discovered a used bookstore near my parents’ house where books cost a maximum of $2 and all the money goes to a hospital nearby. This bookstore is responsible for more than half of my present unread book pile of 440 books.
Now I have a shelf full of TBRs here, an immediate TBR pile, and a TBR mountain range left on the floor of my parents’ house. At this point I’m not sure I could ever go back to having a selection of 5 new books, although I would love to stop and reread some older books. I love having choices and knowing that quite a few of the books I want to read are already mine whenever I want to read them. There are always more books to be bought, though, and I’m not sure my TBR pile will ever shrink too far.
What’s the history of your TBR pile?
 Shoko, a young Japanese girl, is uncertain of her future in Japan; she is clever, but she can’t get very far without marrying someone of her class. She and her father eventually decide that she should marry an American, so when she starts dating Charlie, the decision to marry is an easy one. Years later, Shoko suffers from the same ailment that killed her sister, an enlarged heart. Uncertain of how long she has left, Shoko longs to return to Japan and make amends with her family, but the doctor deems her too unwell. Instead, her daughter Sue, with whom she has always had difficulties, heads off to find them for her, learning much more than she would have expected about her mother in the process.
I was a little wary of this book when I started, simply because I wasn’t sure if it was for me. Similar books have ended up with me disliking them, and despite near universal praise I thought I might not like this one either. I was completely wrong, though; the power of Dilloway’s storytelling swept me away and I got completely caught up in Sue and Shoko’s individual stories.
As always, though, my favorite part was that set in Japan during Shoko’s youth. I always prefer the historical fiction over the modern day part of stories. It frustrated me that her intelligence couldn’t get her anywhere, that she had to marry because that was simply what young girls did. She worked, but it was clear there was no path for her. I was also fascinated by her motivations in marrying Charlie – overall, I thought this section was just really well done.
I also found the relationship between Shoko and Sue to be completely believable. I could easily understand how Sue resented her mother and the way her childhood had been different from everyone else’s, but saw how much she still cared for her. Their relationship felt very real to me and though I haven’t experienced that particular one, I think any pair of mothers and daughters could see something of themselves in their bond. Sue’s discovery of her mother’s past in detail – things that they’d never discussed – was also a fantastic journey of discovery, made even better by the fact that her daughter went along, too.
This was also a quick, delightful read, with nice even turns of phrase and nothing to really distract the reader from its central mother-daughter storyline. I did find that it even had a bit of suspense, as after Shoko’s heart surgery the book switches to Sue’s perspective and we have no idea what’s happened to Shoko. It added tension to her discoveries and gave the book an edge of unpredictability when the rest of it was fairly straightforward.
How to Be an American Housewife was a speedy read that really engaged all of my emotions. I would highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys women’s fiction or historical fiction on post-World War II Japan.
I am an Amazon Associate. I received this book for free from the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program.
 There are more things in Australia that can kill you than anywhere else, so how could Bill Bryson ever keep away from writing a travel memoir about the country? In his travels from coast to coast and several places in between, Bryson both entertains and informs us about a place that, for its size and place in the world, we know surprisingly little about.
Bill Bryson is a delightful writer and I almost wish I’d discovered him sooner! Down Under is my first proper travel book by him and I can’t tell you how eager I am to read more. It’s true that I know very little about Australia, so much of the information he shared was completely new to me. In my job, I’ve done some writing about Australia, but mainly about tourism; it was fascinating to have the historical perspective given to me so I could set it aside my knowledge of the country’s more hospitable places.
My favorite parts of the memoir were generally when he was exploring the middle, largely uninhabitable parts of the country. It’s hard to believe just how many expeditions were launched there – and equally hard to believe that the Australians haven’t managed to spread across such a vast amount of land. Yet with Bryson writing, I could feel the dust and the heat and I am pretty sure I now know why no one really wants to live there; not only is it far from every amenity but there’s truly no purpose to eking a life out in such difficult conditions.
I like that Bryson seems to travel in the same way that I do; I’d struggle to really identify with someone who does things I’d never experience. As it is, Australia is expensive, and I won’t go there for years if ever, so I could almost feel like I was experiencing things through his eyes. He chats with people, visits monuments that I’d visit, and at the same time shares the fascinating history and culture of the country. I can’t imagine a better honorary tour guide. I wouldn’t have minded some pictures, but he writes well enough that I could picture the locations in my head – or just look online, as I did several times – easily enough.
What truly disturbed me overall was the treatment of native Australians – a problem that lies more with the Australian government than with Bryson. I was appalled to learn about the Stolen Generations and even more saddened to discover that many Aboriginal Australians drift through life, missing out on schools and jobs or any parts of modern life. It’s even sadder to hear the way that white Australians have simply given up and don’t know what to do about it. I almost wish Bryson had brought this more to the forefront of the book, rather than asking about it occasionally and being stymied, but I’m not sure what else he could have done, especially not if he aimed to keep the tone of the rest of the book light and funny as he did.
Anyway, I thought Down Under was an excellent read. It certainly helped me get a broader picture of Australia and educated me in some senses at the same time. I can’t wait to read more by Bill Bryson.
In the US, this book is titled In a Sunburned Country. I am an Amazon Associate. I borrowed this book from my local library.
 Ivy Lockwell is one of three sisters, living in a fading house with her mother and ailing father. Without her around, it’s likely that her family would fall apart, but it’s also essential that the three girls marry; that’s because when their mother dies, their house will go to an odious cousin. Ivy’s father has been ill for some time now, and everyone but Ivy believes it’s due to his excessive magick use. Ivy is convinced that if she can find the spell to reverse the damage, she can cure her father; the little notes that he left her around the house encourage her in her quest. When she takes a job with the mysterious Mr Quent, Ivy begins to realize that the problem with magick isn’t just confined to her family, and that she might have deadlier enemies than she’d ever supposed.
This was such a charming book in so many ways. Ivy and her family are absolutely wonderful characters. Each of them has his or her own distinctive personality and the viewpoint switches around frequently enough that I could get to know several of them. The entire book is pervaded with a nice feel of fantasy, mystery, and at times romance. The plot is nicely twisty and turny for the most part, and even though I wasn’t entirely kept guessing throughout the book, it completely held my attention. I loved the fantasy world, with its variations on daylight and peculiar version of magick; I was really eager to figure out how it all fit together.
What I really loved about it, though, was the fact that this felt to me like a love letter to two of my favorite authors, Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte. Sections of both authors’ books are recalled in a variety of ways, and even the prose style feels like it could very well belong in the nineteenth century in particular. I loved reading the echoes of Jane Eyre in the middle section of the novel in particular. It was like reading a few of my favorite novels with magic included, and to be honest, for me you can’t get much better than that. I have read several reviews which complain that it isn’t original enough, but I’d disagree with that. The rest of the book was enchanting in its own right, and such an homage to the classics simply made it better.
Honestly, this was just another of those books that perfectly suited me. A bookish protagonist, echoes of my favorite authors, a lovely subtle romance, and a wonderful fantasy world to back it all up left me a very happy girl. The Magicians and Mrs. Quent may not be for everyone, but it was definitely for me. I am eagerly awaiting the sequel, which is releasing next month, and I only hope that it’s as delightful a read as this was.
I am an Amazon Associate. I purchased this book.
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