Autonomy, Jane Eyre and Me

 

When someone asks me what I consider to be my favourite book, the answer always requires some kind of mitigation. ‘Dude, are we talking this year? My favourite classic? The best book I read in my childhood? What influenced me the most? What inspired me? What validated my experience? What did I just straight up enjoy? What got me back into reading?’ The answers to all of these could be so different, from Twilight to Americanah. Jane Eyre, however, is a consistent thread in all of these questions. It is probably the classic I am most likely to recommend people consume (whether it be through film and TV adaptations or the original source material).

I went to see The National Theatre’s adaptation of Jane Eyre yesterday, and it again struck me how much I love the story, even when it was pared down for its telling in this form. I don’t regularly see plays but when I do I am always impressed with how much people involved can do with a small space to convey space and time. This adaptation’s standout points, however, were the very deliberate (I think) choices to focus on Jane Eyre’s quiet desperation for complete and uncompromised autonomy over her life.

It is at this point that I have to emphasise that Jane Eyre has a number of problems regarding its portrayal of race – and I am absolutely going to address this.

Many if not all adaptations of Jane Eyre have of course focused on Jane’s struggle for freedom – to do so would be to ignore key themes in the text. It’s been heralded as ahead of its time, feminist, a staid call to action for gender equality for a number of reasons. The play I went to see last night, however, had this feeling of Jane’s desperation for autonomy coming at you from all sides. From her unbridled, smiling frustration at pious kindness – ‘God seems like a loving tyrant,’ to the decision in the play to have her refuse St. John’s proposal, unlike her acceptance in the book (even though this was withdrawn). From the set decisions that conveyed entrapment, especially in the times of her life when things were actually going well for her. The constant underscore of her conscience in these times – ‘I should be happy, I should be satisfied with tranquillity, I should be grateful, I should I should I should.’

It is probably true that this is more apparent to me because I’m now 23, and am finding uncompromised autonomy a steady but heady process, full of crippling self-doubt that one ultimately has to work through – especially because of the unstructured nature of well, life, after strict regimented academic calendars for so many years. Not to go all ‘millenial’ (ugh) but it’s the truth, or at least my truth. Such is the nature of ‘finding books (or in this case a play) at the right time in your life.’

It is funny that two of the pieces of media that I have really connected to in the past year because of this have both been plays. The first being this one, the other being the Bend It Like Beckham musical. The contexts and the cultural dynamics surrounding these two plays are incredibly different, but the theme of wanting that autonomy, and wondering whether you ‘should’ just be happy with the picture of happiness others are providing for you rings so true in both stories.

The race politics of Jane Eyre have grown more troubling and jarring the older I have gotten. Even though Jane Eyre purports ideas about women that seem almost startlingly beyond its time, it cannot be talked about without reference to Bertha Mason and her presence, and how her race adds to the dynamic of her character. Englishness and whiteness, I feel, in the book, is purported as a correction of self. This is seen in the tutelage of Adele’s character, all culminating at the end of the book to ‘a [correction] of her French defects.’ It is also seen, in a number of ways, in the othering and threat of Bertha’s character. I am incredibly glad the colonial text Wide Sargasso Sea exists, it being the story of how Bertha Mason came to be. Because as much as I love Jane Eyre, it needs that supplementary assassination (even though Wide Sargasso Sea stands on its own as a brilliant text.

What was interesting about Bertha’s character in this play, was that it seemed to favour the popular theory that Jane and Bertha very much alike, but one represents acting on emotions and one practises learned oppression. However, they both experience the pain of not having true autonomy over their lives. Bertha is a woman of colour in the British empire who has been locked up in the attic. Her emotional freedom is the only freedom she has, and the play recognises this. There is a scene where the character of Bertha sings ‘Crazy,’ by Cee Lo Green, which sounds tasteless, but the bit of the song that goes ‘ha ha ha, bless your soul. You really think you’re in control?’ plays so well with the height of emotion for both characters – Bertha’s burning down of her prison and Jane’s sobbing at its decrypt sight. Maybe I’m reaching.

The plays portrayals of social control, even when yielded in the name of kindness and protection, make for an even more satisfying experience when Jane lifts that ‘keen, daring eye’ and asserts her own personhood.

I thoroughly recommend going to see it.

Happy holidays!

Valentine’s Day Things

Love. Ah, Love.

It’s a truth (sort of) universally acknowledged that love – romantic love – is an over saturated market. We all know this, you know this, your bff who helps you stream movies on your laptop knows this – h and I, fervent consumer of anything kind of cute, knows this. Many movies have dealt us the same cards, we’ve seen many similar plot points play out over time, played by many different faces, even though they can often look similar (pretty, white). We know the drill – whether it be meet cutes, sexy hook ups, an indie slice of life, devastating dramas or the simple of act just liking someone – romantic love is something that dominates our popular culture narrative.

I don’t necessarily see anything intrinsically wrong with this. I, in fact, probably perpetuate it, perhaps to a fault. I will read the blurb of a book and wonder if there is romance in it. When a friend recommends me a book, I will shamelessly ask if there is some kind of romance in it. When I start a new TV show, I will often find that it is, at the very least to some extent, that will keep me watching, sometimes to all the extent, and sometimes, seeing GIFs and hearing them being talked about is the reason I tune in in the first place (2009, Chuck and Blair, Gossip Girl*, 2014, Jim and Pam, The Office). This is definitely not always the case – sometimes the opposite is true. Sometimes, something completely different is cathartic, or sometimes you just don’t need it. But, more often than not, an interesting, non-clichéd (or clichéd and cute, no judgement here) will make things infinitely more interesting.

I think, sometimes, with my complete assimilation of romance through books and TV shows and movies, it’s always good to watch/read/listen to something that brings something new to the table, or something that feels authentic and true.  Not that at all invalidate anything anyone has done before, and of course, this will be completely subjective, but, since it’s Valentine’s Day Eve Eve (as I write this), and Galentine’s day (for all you Parks and Recreation fans), I thought I’d be completely original and tell you all my favourite cute things that you can consume around this period.

It is also recommended that you consume these with discount valentine’s chocolates.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ALL THINGS TALKED ABOUT!!

*Though I love them, I recognise they were kind of problematic

1. If you want to watch a couple of episodes of an oldie but a goodie

The Office, Season 6,Episode 4&5, Niagara, or Season 7, Episode 19, Garage Sale

In the former episode, Jim and Pam tie the knot, and it is sweet and funny and good TV and all around nice, which pretty much sums up Jim and Pam’s arc. It’s a lovely culmination of their romance, which had a wonderful (though often painful and heartbreaking to watch, particularly when they couldn’t just admit their feelings towards each other), platform in their incredibly sweet friendship.

Of all the couples in The Office, Jim and Pam are definitely the favourite, but Michael and Holly are, at least for me, a close second. Michael, as annoying and brash and self-centred and ignorant and arrogant as he could be, as much as he displayed a grating, though hilarious, lack of self-awareness, he always radiated loneliness and desire for companionship (which is testament to Steve Carrell’s nuanced performance year on year) and Holly Flaxx, a HR rep brought in to replace his arch nemesis Toby, was a perfect match for his dorkiness. His proposal to her in this episode was beyond sweet.

2. If you want to watch a couple of episodes of a (sort of) newbie and a goodie

The Mindy Project, Season 2 Episode 15, French Me You Idiot, or Season 2 Episode 22

Anything with Mindy and Danny is a pleasure to watch because of the potent chemistry between Chris Messina and Mindy Kaling, but both these episodes show them at their sweetest, as well as hilarious one liner after one liner. The former showing the aftermaths of their aeroplane kiss and the latter, curmudgeon Danny’s attempts to best Nora Ephron to romance Mindy and woo her back to him.

3. Have time for a full season? My Mad Fat Diary Season 1

You are doing yourself a disservice by not watching My Mad Fat Diary. The show (based on the real diaries of Rae Earl, who is a hoot and a half on twitter) chronicles the recovery, and the trials and tribulations this entails, of 16 year old, 16 stone Rae after she is discharged from a psychiatric hospital. It is incredibly well written and beautifully acted and directed (the show has three BAFTA nominations to date), and there is a lovely, long anticipated romance in this show, so suitable for Valentine’s Day. There are only six episodes, so it won’t take you long AT ALL.

4. If you want to read something

Rainbow Rowell and all of her books

But you already knew that, didn’t you?

Rainbow Rowell is formidable at what she does. She takes familiar threads- love stories – and spins them into something new and authentic. My favourite, Eleanor and Park, is a wonderful young adult love story that has a number of accolades. It is as heartbreaking and tense as it is sweet, as you often fear for one of the characters throughout the entirety of the story, but its blend of gritty social realism and romance really struck me and left it as one of my favourite young adult novels

Jojo Moyes

Jojo Moyes, like Rowell, has a tendency to blend social commentary with sweet stories about love, friendships and family. To have a book make you cry and laugh almost simultaneously is a rare feat, but Jojo Moyes manages to do so in all her books, and I think it is a big part of her commercial appeal. Her books and characters are always compassionately written. My favourite of hers is Me Before You, but The One Plus One is a close second.

Like No Other by Una LaMarche

This young adult Romeo and Juliet type love story of a two Brooklyn teens who are blocks apart, one a black boy, the other a Hasidic Jewish girl, wasn’t my favourite at the time, but has a lot of staying power, and with its racial and religious diversity and heart and sweetness, (I’m not a Hasidic Jewish girl, so I can’t speak on how well researched it is), but it comes across as well researched.

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

This book is ostentatiously a love story about two Nigerian childhood sweethearts, but it is also a book that delves into the intricacies of race relations in Western society, particularly that of the Unites States and the UK. It was a revelation for me to read a book about black experiences, from the black hair salon, to casual racism and passages full of candour about being invisible in popular culture, to interactions and expectations that shape racial identities, good and bad. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie goes straight to the heart of deep, uncomfortable conversations and writes from within them, and writes wonderfully about race issues no one ever talks about unless drink is involved. Many times it was like reading into an echo chanber, but sometimes she clarified things that bothered me about discussions about race (or lack thereof). It’s such a wonderful book, melancholy and heartbreaking at many points, but also sweet and romantic and funny.

5. If you’re a YouTube person, you need to watch Yulin Kuang’s YouTube channel

Yulin is a brilliant and clever filmmaker, who, as ascertained from her interviews, is passionate about the romcom genre. Her channel is a conglomerate of short films, the series ‘I didn’t Write This,’ clever adaptations of poems and scenes from books (there is even a Rainbow Rowell in there! (Check out her Fangirl adaptation) vlogs and think pieces (the thinking out loud). My favourite is actually the first one I watched, ‘The Perils of Growing Up Flat chested,’ although the ‘Dark Sonnet’ by Neil Gaiman adaptation is a close second.

6. And something for Galentine’s Day

Call Your Girlfriend Podcast

Friendship isn’t celebrated enough in popular culture, which is damn shame, because it is, in my opinion, at least just as important as romance and, in different times in a person’s life, can probably be much more important than romance. The Call Your Girlfriend podcast, hosted by long distance besties Gina Delvac, Ann Friedman and Aminatou Sow. The description readsEvery other week, tune in as we discuss Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the beauty of caftans, menstruation news, Kimye, Pitbull, Hillary Rodham Clinton, casual racism, emoji, straight people, California, rom-coms, Lorde lipstick, and so much more.

 

The Legend of Korra: ‘Beyond The Wilds’ Review

“You think your power is limited. I say it’s limitless” – Zaheer 

A word of warning: Spoilers! 

I came to see Toph, and all I got was this crappy freaking awesome wonderful episode, and ZAHEER

This was, in my opinion, one of the strongest episodes of the season. Book 4 of Korra has been a more contemplative, thoughtful season, and, although so so compelling, it hasn’t evoked the same exhilaration as the last books, particularly the brilliant Book 3, has evoked, although because of the journey Korra has been on, this hasn’t been what the book has been demanded. And the latest episode, Beyond the Wilds,’ is a wonderful culmination/sort of ending for Korra’s heartbreak.

The episode kicks off with Napoleon Dynamite Ryu, the twenty something airbender slacker from last season, trying to do his new job as an air nomad tour guide in the spirit wilds. I love little glimpses into the world of Avatar and its citizens. Of course there would be people who aren’t quite clear about the whole spirit world thing, and ask things like, ‘are we in the spirit world now?’ It also plays to the idea of characters acting as the audience. Things take a dramatic turn when the Spirit Vines start acting up and takes (swipes? kidnaps?) the visitors. This is followed by unease from Jinorra, who is sensing spiritual imbalance, and a call to Korra, whom, after using her new found skill of being able to see people through spirit vines, (I think? Correct if I’m wrong) that Kuvira is harvesting spirit vines in the swamp for a weapon.

Another thing I enjoyed was an insight into international diplomacy. Raiko is all set to prepare for battle, Tenzin, being the leader of the pacifist air nomads, wants no part in a pre emptive strike, and Fire Izumi (!) says that she won’t drag the fire nation into another pointless war, which is a very good callback to the fact that this is very much the same world that Aang inhibited and that the consequences of that generations long war still linger, both for the Fire Nation and the other nations.

The stand out storyline, however, was the reuniting of Zaheer and Korra. Korra, after realising that she needs to face the culmination of all her fears, Zaheer, to be able to access the spirit world. I wasn’t sure whether wasn’t sure whether we would see Zaheer again, despite him not being dead, just imprisoned, but I am so glad we did. It was cool to see the amount of security that surrounded him – it gave off that ‘one huge prison, one prisoner,’ vibe, found in movies like Kung Fu Panda. What was so interesting about their interaction was that it wasn’t necessarily seeing Zaheer and confronting her fear in order to overcome it that Korra needed. It was actually the wisdom that Zaheer bestowed onto her – the fact that what he did to her happened, and she shouldn’t, couldn’t fight that – that would just make things worse, and reaffirm the things that Korra now thinks about herself – that she is weak, that she is a burden, that she is no longer needed. What was much more important, and the missing piece to her healing that was needed all this time, was that she needed to accept this. Zaheer knows that the poison was supposed to kill her, but the fact that she released herself from platinum chains and fought back with everything she had shows that she is a force of nature. It was also interesting that they evoked the logistics of this, when Zaheer told Korra that she needed to let what happened to her play out in her mind. It evokes, at least for me, how to recover from human traumas that scores of people, particularly women, face every single day.

So the episode ended with Korra being reunited with Ravva, and finding the people who were taken by the spirit vines at the beginning of the episode. It is a hopeful ending for Korra, and, as things, circumstantially are about to hit the fan, (Kuvira, a contrite lovestruck Bolin, Opal and Lin facing a family rescue mission in Zhafou) I’m hoping that Korra’s internal journey only continues it’s uphill stride.

Oh, you’re not watching The Legend of Korra? You should be watching The Legend of Korra

Readers, let’s go back a year, to the summer of 2013, when I was between finishing my second year at university and starting my final year. I wasn’t all clued up on the whole ‘golden age of tv,’ thing that I think we’re definitely going through, and I was searching for a TV show to watch. My brother casually mentioned to me that he watched a childrens’ animation called Avatar: The Last Airbender. Being reader, but not a huge fantasy reader, and being someone who truly values animation but hadn’t been attached to cartoon characters since the days of T.J and the gang and Goku and co, I sat down to watch it on Netflix with a fair amount of apprehension. A year and a half later, I am completely, completely obsessed with both Avatar: The Last Airbender and the sequel series,  Avatar: The Legend of Korra. I push onto anyone that I think will be interested, and consume the short episodes released every week like a mad woman. I am comfortable saying it is one of the best TV shows I have ever watched (imdb agrees, it is one of their highest rated shows), and I think that there is hardly a person in the world who will actively dislike it. It seems like a fitting time to talk about it, as the last ever Avatar series is currently being streamed online on Nick.com, The Legend of Korra Book (season) 4.

  

 

Avatar centers around a world where some people are born with the ability to manipulate or ‘bend’ one of the four elements, water, fire, earth or air. They are separated into four nations, The Fire Nation, The Water tribes (based in the North and South Poles), The Earth Kingdom and the Air nomads, who live in air temples. There is one person, the avatar, who is reincarnated cyclically into all the nations, who has the ability to master all the elements. Their job is to keep balance in the world, and be a bridge between the spiritual and the physical worlds.

One hundred years before the start of the show, the avatar dissapears, leaving the Fire Nation to commit genocide and wage a vicious war on all the other nations, and the world enters a war that spans decades and leaves many people dead and many more in abject states of poverty. Then two of the main characters, Katara and Sokka, find a stranger frozen in an iceberg….

The Legend of Korra stars the next avatar in the cycle, a 17 year old waterbender avatar, Korra, who is almost a fully realized avatar and who deals with the political, social and spiritual implications of a rapidly developing, technological and complicated, complicated world.

I am focusing on Korra, but I cannot stress enough how good the Last Airbender is. It is truly a gem, and is populated with fully fleshed out, loveable characters, both in the ‘good guys’ and the villainous, and an exciting, tight plot that spans over 3 reasons, that deal with mature themes, (like the aforementioned genocide), and still manages to combine great humour and exciting action sequences, and stunning animation. It is one of IMDB’s highest rated shows of all time, so don’t just take my word for it 🙂

Korra is so different, but in my opinion, just as good. Aang, the main character in The Last Airbender, is a twelve year old boy, and Korra starts off as a 17 year old. Korra’s character development, as a 17 year old fiesty and fierce teen to the person she is now, after everything that has happened over three seasons, has been phonemonal. The current season is dealing with issues of PTSD in a nuanced and complicated way, even if viewers like myself are shallowly yearning for the kind of spectacular fight scenes the show is known for.

What the show is particularly good at, though, is its villains. The villains in Korra have all fought for legitimate causes – equality between benders and non-benders, spirituality (and I won’t spoil the Book 3 revelation for you, but it is equally as compelling), and they all fight against the concept of the avatar, and are all truly menacing in their own way. It brings adult, mature abstract themes to animation that is primarily targeted at children, and it is beloved and discussed a lot for these reasons.

Do YOU watch this show? What do you think?

THE INFERNAL DEVICES

Hey! So I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you what the infernal devices are, but on the off chance that you do (and that is absolutely fine, no shame zone here), it is the prequel series to Cassandra Clare’s first series, The Mortal Instruments. It consists of Clockwork Angel, Clockwork Prince and Clockwork Princess. In this world, shadowhunters, half humans, half angels, are tasked with killing demons, keeping the peace with downworlders (vampires, warlocks, werewolves, keep up) and have an avatar like task to ultimately maintain the balance between good and evil in the world. Tessa Gray journeys from America to England to stay with her brother Nate after the death of her aunt and guardian, and when she gets there, is met, not by her brother, but a much more sinister presence that ultimately catapults her into this unseen world, and into a journey of discovering who and what she is and her history.

It’s hard to do a review of a whole series, especially with this one. There is a lot that I want to talk about. This series is very popular, and I can definitely see why. However, it not without flaws. Overall, I enjoyed the series, it was fun, and, at some points, actually quite heartbreaking. I think it is in many ways more enjoyable than the Mortal Instruments, because Cassandra Clare, as a writer, has got significantly and consistently better, not just series to series, but book to book, and it especially noticeable because she writes incredibly fast, publishing about a book a year. (This year alone, she published city of heavenly fire, and she is about to publish her collab book with Holly Black, the iron trial, and she has two new shadowhunter based series coming up, The Last Hours and The Dark Artifices.)

What I liked
Characters: I confess, one of the main reasons I was intrigued to read the infernal was because of the much revered Will Herondale. I was pretty excited to meet this fictional panty dropper. Barely a booktube video (people who make online vide content primarily about books) concerning Cassandra Clare’s work goes by without someone waxing lyrical about Will Herondale in all his pretty boy glory. (Or any video concerning fictional crushes, or fictional couples, etc, etc..). I think that whilst I wasn’t enamoured with him on the same level, I wasn’t impervious to his charms, particularly in the second and third book. He’s aright 😀
(although not so much the first book – meh.) But I also really liked Tessa’s character. One of my reservations about reading this trilogy was that it would be a 19th century rehash of The Mortal Instruments (I know, I know), including characters, but we have in Tessa a character who is quite introverted and to some extent, shy, but she also has a lot of strength and compassion and kindness. Not that Clary doesn’t have those qualities, but she is much more forthright in her thoughts and actions than Tessa is. I also really enjoyed Jem Carstairs, who is like symbiotic of kindness. All the other characters – Charlotte, who again, shows a lot of strength despite sexist 19th century naysayers, and her adorable husband Henry – and just all the other characters – Jessamine, Sophie, the Lightwood brothers, Magnus Bane (who I liked even more in this series than TMI) – they all had their own back stories and personalities that added to the colourful tapestry of the whole series.

Writing
Like I said before, Cassandra Clare’s writing gets noticeably better for each book that she writes, and her writing in this series is particularly atmospheric. There is a scene in Clockwork Princess starring the Lightwood brothers in the rain having a really intense conversation, that stands out in my head, that I remember playing out in my head really seamlessly – it wasn’t a particularly massively important scene, but it is the one that sticks out in my head.

The Plot
There was one overarching mystery in this trilogy, and a number of smaller ones, and this made the plot and the pacing of the book quite fast and very accessible. I think, for a lot of people, Cassandra Clare books are books that you just fly through, and this was certainly the case for me. I thought the plot was interesting, and the way it played out brought a number of twists and turns that I definitely didn’t see coming, particularly in the first book.

The relationships
I don’t want to spoil anything for anyone, but I will say, I love reading about really intense friendships, and I really enjoyed reading about the bond – and the subsequent heartbreak that comes with it – between Will and Jem. It was really subtle at first, but, as the trilogy went on, it became more and more apparent how much they cared about each other, and Tessa, and that, no matter which way the love triangle went, everyone involved was going to feel pain.

What I didn’t like so much
The ending
Not the ending with regards as to who ends up with who – I’m still conflicted about that, but with regards to the overarching mystery and figuring out who and what Tessa is – not that it was a bad ending, by any means, but I did find it a bit anticlimactic – it should be noted, however, that a lot of the mystery had been solved before the final confrontation, and that might be why I found it a bit predictable. There are enough twists and shocks in the trilogy that though, so it’s all good.

Some of the writing
This is definitely a ‘book for book lovers,’ because it references a lot of 19th century literature (and poetry, for that matter). Although this is cool, I think it was a device that was used maybe a little bit too much – it left some dialogue and some scenes a little bit overblown.

Too much romance

I’m a sap, a romantic, but I think this book maybe had too much of a good thing  – and that was a bit too much coupling going on. They were all interesting, they all had their own unique dynamic, but it felt  little bit too much at  one point, particularly in Clockwork Princess. (SPOILER: My favourite was Sophie and Gideon because cuteeeeee). SPOILER OVER.

BUT: This was a really enjoyable set of books. My favourite is definitely Clockwork Prince, I remember being seriously, seriously stressed out at the end of that book, and I really felt for all the characters – and I haven’t felt that for a set of characters in a while. Props to the readers who had to wait two years between Clockwork Prince and Clockwork Princess! What a wait that must have been!

 

Book review: Isla and the happily ever after

 Published 2014 by Usbounre, this edition 375 pages

You all know what this is.

A few weeks ago I finished Isla and the Happily ever after, the third in Stephanie Perkins’ contemporary romance stories (the first two being Anna and the French Kiss, then Lola and the boy next door), and I squeed as much as I did in the first two, possibly even more. HOWEVER, although I really really really enjoyed reading Isla’s story, feel like there were a few things that didn’t have the same quality as both Anna and Lola. I completely completely understand that this is Isla’s story, and hers is hers to tell (and Stephanie Perkins), and I normally hate comparing, but let me explain myself.

One of the things that I think makes Stephanie Perkins’ books so wonderful is that they are familiar- an unequivocal love story – but they are so wonderfully authentic, grounded in great characterisation and romantic settings (Paris, SanFran Sisco), that they make the genre even more compelling to romantics and perhaps more appealing to those who avoid things like this. I’m not a fan of the sentiment that romance cheapens a story – I don’t think it does, unless it is handled badly. When it is handled well, it is such an enjoyable thing to read about, to be immersed in. And a major part of the reason why Stephanie Perkins has amassed such a following is because she’s a great writer that handles love stories that have their own charm.

Whilst Isla had a lot of the same charm, the same great qualities, that Anna and Lola had, it also felt like the love story in Isla felt a little more geared towards wish fulfilment and love at first sight sentiments, especially because Isla’s crush on him was huge and a little bit obsessive (although very relatable). It’s different to the build up of friendship turned to romantic love that we got familiar with in the previous two novel, which is more interesting and is more fun to read about.
HOWEVER, I do also understand that this may be because the set up and plot line of this book is different – SLIGHT SPOILER ALERT – we get to see more of an actual relationship, and this part of the novel felt very real and sweet and very sad at times. There were so many interactions that felt very spot on. Some scenes, in the hands of another author, may be written off as a bit cheesy, but because it’s Stephanie Perkins, she just has this way with romance that cheesy and cringy don’t even factor into the equation. They’re just lovely and adorable to read about.

I also would have liked to see more of her friendship with Kurt, her long term best friend, and just him as a person. He has Asperser’s Syndrome, and I thought this was dealt with very well. I would have also liked to see more of Isla’s relationship with her sisters, Hattie and Genevieve, as I thought they both sounded interesting when Isla was describing them to Josh.

What a difference perception can make! Josh, Isla’s love interest, is in Anna and the French kiss, but Anna sees him very differently, as more of a moody slacker (albeit a loveable one). Isla, however, sees him completely differently, and as a result, I saw him differently. I liked his character, I liked his character, I liked the fact that he was an artist. Isla, I liked as well, but she didn’t have a zeal or passion for anything like Anna and Lola did (films, fashion). This was an insecurity and uncertainty that she had to deal with. A noteworthy note: This is definitely the sexiest of the three companion novels, and I thought this was dealt with pretty healthily.

Overall, I liked this novel and thought it was so swoony, although it is not without faults. It was still a lovely lovely book.

Book review: Everyday by David Levithan

 This edition published by Electric Monkey (Egmont Books) 2013, 372 pages

Everyday by David Levithan is part love story, part sexy, part very interesting exploration of barometers of identity, particularly gender. Everyday follows the story of A, who wakes up each day in the body of a different person. A’s philosophy is to leave said person’s life as undamaged as possible for A’s designated duration. This is all going fine, until A meets Rihannon, and wants to be with her everyday.

It is the second David Levithan novel that I have ever read, (the first being The Lover’s dictionary, which was one of my favourite reads of 2013). I haven’t yet read a book that he has written (or part written, I have a couple of collaborations that he wrote with Rachel Cohn) that I haven’t really enjoyed, and his name is often synonymous with quality, so I had really high expectations of this book.

I really enjoyed this book. I found the start quite slow, but it grew to be very immersive. The pacing of this book is one that builds, and, as I got closer to the end, I found it harder and harder to put the book down. I expected a thoughtful, contemplative narrative, which this is to a point, but David Levithan made a good decision to include a storyline (no spoilers) that added a lot of tension, questions and general anxiety to the overall storyline, and it fused beautifully with A’s own love story, and cumulated nicely with an ending that I didn’t see coming, but which made perfect sense.

The nature of the narrative made it so that the book put forward a very positive message about diversity – diversity in gender, race, sexual orientation,etc, and that is always good to see, because it makes stories so much more interesting. And, as cheesy as it sounds, it also managed to highlight how different people are, but also, how eerily similar we are as well.

Overall, it was such a good read, and I thoroughly recommend it! 🙂

BOOK REVIEW: The Key to the Golden Firebird by Maureen Johnson

Originally published in 2004 by HarperCollins Teen

 This edition (UK edition) published by Hot Key Books, 2013, 311 pages

The Key to the Golden Firebird is a family saga about the Gold sisters, May (the main character), Brooks, the older sister, and Palmer, the youngest sister. The bulk of the story line is set a year after the sudden death of their father, and how they are all still very much  reverberating from his death and dealing with it in their own individual, slightly unhealthy and ultimately incredibly lonely ways. May is desperate to pass her driving test, as it will serve as a pick me up and she can help around the house and help keep the family together; Brooks is constantly out and about with a new crowd, and Palmer is very quietly falling apart.

I really enjoyed this book. It dealt with the potent nature of grief in a way that was personal, and felt authentic to each character. The real strength of this book, however, was the choice to tell the story from the perspective of each character. May is the main character, and she is the one who is desperate to get everyone back on track, if that can even be a thing anymore, but she is also very bitter and resentful of the fact that this role has sort of been ascribed onto her. This comes across not just in May’s narrative, but also the narrative of all the other sisters. I would often get annoyed or sympathetic with one character in one perspective, only to have that flipped over in the next, when certain behaviors would be explained. It was also especially poignant, because the way that they all dealt with their grief rubbed against one another in volatile ways, which made each character’s loneliness even more compelling. I thought that this was good storytelling on Maureen Johnson’s part, with very multi faceted characterization.

I also thought the romance between May and her childhood enemy boy next door turned driving instructor was very sweet. I actually wanted to see a little bit more of it, but ultimately I know that wasn’t what the story was about.

I thought this was a very solid, well written read and I thoroughly enjoyed it!

 

Candy x

BOOK REVIEW: The collected works of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin

Also known as The storied life of A.J. Fikry in the US. 

 Published: 2014 by Little,Brown, this edition 243 pages

I want to start this review by favouring something that the main character said in this book – that it’s much harder to talk about things that we love than things that we don’t like, which is absolutely true. I’m almost kind of scared to review this book, because I’m afraid that I won’t do it justice, because it is such a wonderful, joyous read and reading it was such an exuberant experience.

A.J. Fikry follows the main character, A.J, a recent widower, borderline alcoholic and independent bookstore owner, as he navigates his way through his lacklustre, scrooge style life. That is, until a young, suicidal mother leaves her 2 year old on his bookshop floor, and life takes a different turn that, even A.J, someone well versed in stories, could not forsee.

I absolutely loved, loved, loved this book. This is definitely a book for book lovers and avid readers, as A.J, being a bookseller, is immersed in the centre of the book industry, which features very heavily in the story. The funniest parts of the book, the bits that made me laugh out loud, were the references to how people relate to each other via finding out what the people they are interacting with enjoy reading. Case in point, in reference to one character’s, Amelia,  first date:

Still, Amelia had not allowed herself to be certain until dessert, when she’d asked him about the book that had had the greatest influence on his life, and he’d replied Principles of Accounting, Part II. Gently she tells him no, she would rather not go out again. 

Still, Gabrielle Zevin manages to pull all of this off without being pretentious, and manages to write a gentle and humane story that is not really about what books can do for people, but ultimately is about how important people and love are to the human experience. Every relationship in this book – A.J and his adopted daughter Maya, his friendship with sweet police officer Lambaise, his sister in law Ismay, and many others, is so lovely to read about, and ultimately brought me to tears towards the end of the novel. Furthermore, the ending really is an ending, in the sense it really feels like the story has come full circle in the most funny but satisfying way.

Also, I am so happy about the racial diversity in this book. It’s always wonderful to see a more accurate reflection of the population.

I LOVE this book. It has seared itself onto my memory and has become one of my all time favourites. Go out and read it read it read it.

I leave you with some of my favourite quotes:

“We aren’t the things we collect, acquire, read. We are, for as long as we are here, only love. The things we loved. The people we loved. And these, I think these really do live on.”

“We are not quite novels.
We are not quite short stories.

“You tell a kid he doesn’t like to read, and he’ll believe you.” 

In the end, we are collected works.”

“The most annoying thing about it is that once a person gives a shit about one thing, he finds he has to start giving a shit about everything.”

 Candy x

Book Review: Brooklyn by Colm Tobin

Brooklyn is a novel that follows young Eilis in 1950s Ireland, as she and her family come to the realization that it is unlikely that Eilis is going to get any sort of fulfilling work in her small, close knitted town. Following this, she is sent to Brooklyn, New York, to work, and the book follows her struggle with homesickness, her tentative friendships and perhaps something more, and struggles with family ties in Ireland.

Brooklyn is an incredibly immersive novel that did a really good job of helping me of pretty poor imagination to really visualise not just 1950s New York, but 1950s Ireland as well. It’s a short story, just over 250 pages, and the book chronicles quite a long period of time, making the pacing of the book one that will make a lot of people breeze through it. I’m generally a fan of this kind of ‘coming of age, self-actualisation type’ of novel, and I think a lot of the themes are very universal, even though it is a time period long gone.

One thing I really liked about this novel was the way that Tobin portrayed both homesickness and grief. He manages to capture both her excitement and trepidation at starting a new life, particularly at the beginning of her time in Brooklyn.  With grief, however, Tobin did a really good job at looking at how different people deal with its intensity, and how these differences can be incredibly painful to a family. The idea of choosing between your own happiness and a perception of selfishness was so pervasive here, and felt incredibly authentic in this story, and, whilst now quite enough to draw  tear, did make me feel very sad not just for Eilis, but for her whole entire family.

There were, however, a few things about the book I didn’t like. Eilis, as a character, a lot of the time felt like a blank canvas, and throughout the book, with very few exceptions, she was a character who often let life happen to her, and was very rarely proactive about what she wanted. Even as a reader, it was hard to decipher what she was thinking and why she did or didn’t do certain things.  This tied into another fault, which was that things just arranged themselves for her – accommodation, her job, her classes, her friends, etc, were things that she didn’t initially have to sort out for herself, so again, it felt like life was just happening to her. However, it could be that Eilis was just a product of her time, and wasn’t necessarily schooled in those sentiments because of that.  

Overall, this was an immersive, solid read, and I understand why people touted it as a great. It wasn’t quite for me, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.