Short(ish)
I have three more in-depth reviews that are waiting for me to do some quote-checking and decide that I'm happy with, but these were easier.
New to me:
Growing Up Weightless. This is a very well-done book that is just not the book for me. It’s quiet, and real, and grounded (word deliberately chosen for ironic nature, obviously), and the characters all possess at least three dimensions, but there’s a reason I prefer Charlotte Bronte to Jane Austen - that sheer exuberance that’s always there, that harnessed, but never completely controlled, tendency towards melodrama - and it’s too obviously channelled and controlled in this book. Most obviously with the role-playing Robin Hood game, but also with the sheer mindfulness of living in such an environment - and the problem is that when the wish-fulfilment moment of the job offer comes, it's too much like just another game. What I need to do now, tho', is track down The Dragon Waiting.
Two Joans at the Abbey. I am completely incapable of distinguishing any of the characters whose names begin with J, although I think the original Joan is the most pathologically spoilt. Four characters, on two separate occasions, get caught under falling rocks in a secret tunnel in this book, and the main concern of the author is not the unlikely stupidity that this involves, but that Joan (not rock-fallen at any stage) isn’t worried too much by this. An awful warning to authors who do not know when to stop writing a particular series.
Jean at Jo's Hospital. More Js. Back in the days when nursing meant rigid hierarchies, a lot of cleaning, sparks of romance with the (entirely male) medical staff and patients were like conveniently one-dimensional sudoku puzzles, waiting for the infinitely compassionate staff to fill in all their boxes (okay, not a simile I should use again). Strangely comforting, in the sense of as long as I never have to live there.
Re-reads:
The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn. I do like this one, although The House with a Clock in its Walls got to me first, a long time ago, and scarred my infant psyche forever with a) the clock b) the hand of glory and c) the headlights of a following car with no visible driver. In this one, however, the main character is perfectly average, or even less than that; not particularly smart (the reader is obviously meant to work out the riddle first, even if they’re reading it in the edition that doesn’t put the answer on the cover), not particularly athletic; his parents fight, and he can’t stop them, he can’t deal with manipulative adults and he really has only one friend. But he keeps going, and he cares, and he’s very likeable. I’d forgotten what the treasure was - it is the sort of thing you’d only find in a John Bellairs book, oddly out of place and yet, because of that, believable.
Son of Interflux. Not one of his best, although I love the student making an epic film with most of the school as cast, crew and spear-carriers, summoning them at short notice with abrupt messages in their pigeonholes to massively over-elaborate sets (the Fall of Troy, Woodstock, the end of the universe...). The main tension between - uh, the main character (copy no longer with me to check name) and his dad (Interflux) is defused by having them both know what’s going on from very early on. I think it’s an interesting decision, but replacing it with romantic tension of the “she screams at me a lot, so naturally we’re destined for each other” variety didn’t entirely work for me.
The Turbulence of Tony. Tomboy with circus past who usually dresses as a boy must join girls’ school while father is away. Interesting scene where her feminine identity is discovered when she has to take her shirt off after an injury to her arm, probably necessitating a number of arguments with the editor about the completely unstated reference to breasts.
Catherine, Head of House. I like this (regrettably only three book) series; they have a sense of perspective (on the genre) and a sense of humour, which even these days will take you far.
New to me:
Growing Up Weightless. This is a very well-done book that is just not the book for me. It’s quiet, and real, and grounded (word deliberately chosen for ironic nature, obviously), and the characters all possess at least three dimensions, but there’s a reason I prefer Charlotte Bronte to Jane Austen - that sheer exuberance that’s always there, that harnessed, but never completely controlled, tendency towards melodrama - and it’s too obviously channelled and controlled in this book. Most obviously with the role-playing Robin Hood game, but also with the sheer mindfulness of living in such an environment - and the problem is that when the wish-fulfilment moment of the job offer comes, it's too much like just another game. What I need to do now, tho', is track down The Dragon Waiting.
Two Joans at the Abbey. I am completely incapable of distinguishing any of the characters whose names begin with J, although I think the original Joan is the most pathologically spoilt. Four characters, on two separate occasions, get caught under falling rocks in a secret tunnel in this book, and the main concern of the author is not the unlikely stupidity that this involves, but that Joan (not rock-fallen at any stage) isn’t worried too much by this. An awful warning to authors who do not know when to stop writing a particular series.
Jean at Jo's Hospital. More Js. Back in the days when nursing meant rigid hierarchies, a lot of cleaning, sparks of romance with the (entirely male) medical staff and patients were like conveniently one-dimensional sudoku puzzles, waiting for the infinitely compassionate staff to fill in all their boxes (okay, not a simile I should use again). Strangely comforting, in the sense of as long as I never have to live there.
Re-reads:
The Treasure of Alpheus Winterborn. I do like this one, although The House with a Clock in its Walls got to me first, a long time ago, and scarred my infant psyche forever with a) the clock b) the hand of glory and c) the headlights of a following car with no visible driver. In this one, however, the main character is perfectly average, or even less than that; not particularly smart (the reader is obviously meant to work out the riddle first, even if they’re reading it in the edition that doesn’t put the answer on the cover), not particularly athletic; his parents fight, and he can’t stop them, he can’t deal with manipulative adults and he really has only one friend. But he keeps going, and he cares, and he’s very likeable. I’d forgotten what the treasure was - it is the sort of thing you’d only find in a John Bellairs book, oddly out of place and yet, because of that, believable.
Son of Interflux. Not one of his best, although I love the student making an epic film with most of the school as cast, crew and spear-carriers, summoning them at short notice with abrupt messages in their pigeonholes to massively over-elaborate sets (the Fall of Troy, Woodstock, the end of the universe...). The main tension between - uh, the main character (copy no longer with me to check name) and his dad (Interflux) is defused by having them both know what’s going on from very early on. I think it’s an interesting decision, but replacing it with romantic tension of the “she screams at me a lot, so naturally we’re destined for each other” variety didn’t entirely work for me.
The Turbulence of Tony. Tomboy with circus past who usually dresses as a boy must join girls’ school while father is away. Interesting scene where her feminine identity is discovered when she has to take her shirt off after an injury to her arm, probably necessitating a number of arguments with the editor about the completely unstated reference to breasts.
Catherine, Head of House. I like this (regrettably only three book) series; they have a sense of perspective (on the genre) and a sense of humour, which even these days will take you far.