The Sevenwaters Trilogy

Daughter of the Forest, by Juliet Marillier

As the only daughter and youngest child of Lord Colum of Sevenwaters, Sorcha grows up protected and pampered by her six older brothers. When a sorceress's evil magic ensorcels Colum's sons, transforming them into swans, only Sorcha's efforts can break the curse. A re-telling of the old fairy tale, set in Ireland as the older beliefs are beginning to be overtaken by christianity.

I have to be honest here, this book is horrifying. This book has so many terrible things happen to the people that we're supposed to like, it was a never-ending strain on my nerves, even though I know the old fairy tale well, and I should have been able to relax about the fate of our protagonist, Sorcha. Initally, I was unable to concentrate on the story because of my preoccupation with our heroine's name. It was a little too close to Sorsha, from the movie Willow, for comfort. All I could think of was that scene when Mad Martigan gets hit with that love potion, and they get into an argument, and she's yelling, "'I dwell in darkness without you' and it went away?" I really enjoy that movie, not least because of an early review of it, regarding Jean Marsh as an effective tool to force small children to eat their vegetables. (cf. If You Ask Me by "Libby Gelman-Waxner"). But soon enough, the ominous suggestions in the beginning are fulfilled, and Sorcha is called upon to save her brother through hard work, pain, and silence. I was already sucked into story by the time something horrible in particular (now I sound like I read too much Cold Comfort Farm) about a third of the way in, which was completely unexpected (by me) and therefore doubly shocking and, uh impactive, for lack of a better word. It was at that point that I realized that despite my foreknowledge of the ending, there could certainly be a lot of despair and horror before we reach that point, and that even once that point is reached, there is no guarantee that you'll get warm fuzzy feelings after turning the last page. And that realization makes the book more powerful, because you begin to experience events with the characters, and therefore know just how hard the task set before Sorcha is. The ending, which does end, as much as possible, happily (there are further revelations which serve to further depress the spirit, but they don't affect Sorcha directly, and at that point, I was willing to take victories where they lay) feels all the more joyful because of the sadness that preceded it. This is an excellently written book, a graceful and unique re-telling of the Seven Swans, one which may not be out of place among the so-called original Grimm's Fairy Tales, a la the Little Mermaid and her sea foam demise. It is harrowing, but the ability to make one scared for a character, even when you supposedly know the end to her story, is the mark of a good writer.


'Son of the Shadows (Book 2)

Liadan of Sevenwaters is the child of Iubdan and Sorcha (whose story was told in Daughter of the Forest) and she is granted the power to hear and see what others cannot. She is a healer of mind, body and spirit. It is Liadan's gift of healing that brings about a meeting with a mercenary considered to be the enemy of her family. Liadan names this man without a name or history "Bran" and soon realizes that the information she has been told about him (and the world in general) is not what it appears to be.

Okay, so, I was very excited about this one, because I read the first in the series and fell in love with the characters and the story. This one was, well, a bit of a let down. I think that's partly by virtue of the strength of the first entry in the series, and also partly because after the first one, I became somewhat inured to the almost ridiculously awful experiences that Marillier likes to puts her characters through (in this series at least - those in Wildwood Dancing got off easier). This was a good middle entry, although I personally didn't find the heroine, Liadan, as sympathetic as Sorcha. Liadan is a very different person than Sorcha, one who is not merely buffeted by the winds of fate and destiny (as is made very clear by her refusal to listen to the warnings of the Old Folk in the forest). SotS certainly sets things up for the third book, in more ways than one, set as it is about eighteen years after Daughter of the Forest and eighteen years before Child of the Prophecy. The tone of this volume is very different from Daughter of the Forest, possibly because it's not based on legend, possibly because it is more focused on very earthly problems, rather than the sorcerous and magical problems of the other books. It is well-written, but doesn't create the same sense of urgency and connection that DotF does. With the wisdom granted in hindsight, I would say that this is my least favorite installation in the Sevenwaters Trilogy et al. (although still not bad in and of itself). There are some very good sequences, such as when Liadan is kidnapped and asked to save a mercenary's life, and also an exciting escape involving fairly high stakes. These are only sequences though, and not the same as the continued strain of DotF.




Child of the Prophecy (Book 3)

The saga of the guardians of the forest at Sevenwaters takes up the story of Fainne, daughter of the former Druid Ciaran and the lost Niamh. Raised in the ways of magic, Fainne plans to become a solitary sorcerer like her father, but fate intervenes in the form of her grandmother, Oonagh, a sorceress with a penchant for cruelty and a desire to put an end to everything the Sevenwaters folks stand for. A prophecy tells of a way to preserve the old magic, and Lady Oonagh is willing to trick her granddaughter and torture her own son to break it. Though Fainne is forced to bow to her grandmother's will, the love of her family and her own strong ethics help her remember her true nature, as she learns about herself, her powers of sorcery and the part she plays in a prophecy that has tested three generations of women.

This is a strong conclusion to the trilogy, neither my least nor best liked. The plot concerns the journey of Fainne, who travels from Kerry to Ulster on the orders of her father and grandmother (although each has different reasons for so ordering). The Lady Oonagh, back from the first book, pops up, although she doesn't have the same air of menace that she did in DotF. Although I was tempted to be frustrated with Fainne by her lack of self-confidence and willingness to obey her grandmother's dictates, there are good reasons for her behavior and mindset, as Marillier adequately explains her circumstances so that her actions are completely reasonable for someone in her position. The resolution of the trilogy fell a little flat to me, because after all this build up, after all the tension between Fainne and Oonagh, after the big battle at the end for the island, it seemed a little. . . easy . . . for them to defeat the threatening evil. I was, perhaps through no fault of the author's, sucked into believing that Fainne's decision would directly impact the outcome of the battle, influence and direct the flow of it, and that didn't happen - the battle was fought and decided without her interference at all, and her purpose in the larger scheme of things is revealed only after the sorceress is well defeated, too. I did really like the evolution of the love story here, I found both Fainne and her sweetheart to be delightful in their mutual wishes to protect the other (I am kind of sucker for that). A bittersweet ending to the saga, but an appropriate one, and satisfying in a way that DotF couldn't be, by tying up sundry loose ends.




Heir to Sevenwaters (Bonus Extra Book)

Clodagh, the third daughter of the lord of Sevenwaters, is the practical one who keeps things running while her aging mother awaits the birth of a male heir. At her sister's wedding, she meets rude, closed-off Cathal, one of her cousin Johnny's personal guards. Shortly after, when the Fair Folk replace the newborn heir with a changeling creature, Clodagh and Cathal put their lives and sanity on the line to rescue the child.

This is my second favorite of the bunch. Here, Marillier returns to a more patterned story, this one modeled after various changeling and fairy folk-related tales. The plot is fairly straightforward (not something which can be said for others in the series), wherein Clodagh, a normal, unmagical girl, is thrust into the position of having to traverse the Otherworld to bargain with Mac Dara, the new (and quite villanous) Lord of the Fey. He is so bad, in fact, that one almost wishes he had a moustache to twirl as he discusses his dark deeds. The tone of Heir is much lighter than that of the previous three, which was a relief since I read them all in a row, and after several days of this particular Series of Unfortunate Events I needed some good clean romance and fantasy without all the doom and gloom attached. There is, naturally, still some doom and gloom (otherwise it just wouldn't be a Sevenwaters book), but it is restricted to warnings for the future rather than present misfortunes. Marillier really evokes the world of her characters, and never is it more apparent than here, where the changing landscape and the attendant pitfalls play a big part in the plot.

ETA: I was re-reading the books and re-read this entry to see what I used to think about them, and I realized that I didn't remember the fourth book at all, except for that twig-baby. How creepy was that thing?! And it like, moved and cried like a baby, too, didn't it? Can you imagine a heap of twigs crying like a baby and waving little stubby branches around? Because I can, and it is horrifying.

Just a heads-up.





Throughout each book, there are common elements and themes - for our heroines, they may take the message away that love suceeds in the end (although those poor souls who aren't the main characters may not trust so easily to this). There is, oddly enough, in each story the counterpoint of a young (usually) man who also genuinely loves the heroine, and in some cases puts himself through extreme privation in order to be with her. In any other book, this would make him the hero, but here they have naught but disappointment and/or death. The presence of these characters serves to remind us that love is a tricky thing, and cannot be forced but only freely given. It's a nice touch, and meshes well with Marillier's desire to bring down even the most well-earned happy endings. Another theme is that of the frailty of life, and way of life. In later books especially, is the idea that sooner or later (sooner) the old ways and beings will pass from this earth. It may be appropriate to the time period (and Sevenwaters is far from the only book to touch on this topic, ever since Peter Pan told us not believing in fairies killed them; Veil of Gold echoes this feeling of widening separation between reality and story) but it lessens the importance of the characters' actions. All in all, a wonderful series.

Billy Budd

Billy Budd, by Herman Melville

Aboard the warship Bellipotent, the young orphan Billy Budd was called the handsome sailor. Billy was tall, athletic, nobel looking; he was friendly, innocent, helpful and ever-cheerful. He was a fierce fighter and a loyal friend. All the men and officers liked him...

All but one: Master-at-Arms Claggart. Envious, petty Claggart plotted to make Billy's life miserable. But when a fear of mutinies swept through the fleet, Claggart realized he could do more than just torment the Handsome Sailor...He could frame Billy Budd for treason...

Herman, Herman, Herman. What are we going to do with you? I'll be honest here, I am not Melville's biggest fan, unless by "fan" you mean "someone who badmouths his writing style every chance she gets and constantly bemoans the wasted hours she spent struggling through Moby Dick, which is, let's face, pretty much the textbook example on why ignorance is bliss". Let's just say I was happier not knowing every minute detail of how, say, the hump back differs from the razor back from the sulphur bottom, and on and on, until I have lost not only the thread of the plot, but my sanity as well. However, now let me speak of Billy Budd, handsome sailor and all-around pretty boy.



This book is certainly mellifluous - if nothing else, Melville does know how to string a pretty group of words together, often at the loss of any sense, but still. The introduction to my book states that towards the end, Melville become increasinly upset at the inability of readers to understand him. I can only say that those readers have my utmost sympathies, because Melville seems to have written Billy Budd in some maniacal fit of pique, with an outdated thesaurus, carefully running on all sentences and obscuring all rational ideas with bizarre word choices and startling similes. Here's a sample:

From his chief's employing him as an implicit tool in laying little traps for the worriment of the foretopman - for it was from the master-at-arms that the petty persecutions heretofore adverted to had proceeded - the corporal, having naturally enough concluded that his master could have no love for the sailor, made it his business, faithful understrapper that he was, to foment the ill blood by perverting to his chief certain innocent frolics of the good-natured foretopman, besides inventing for his mouth sundry contumelious epithets he claimed to have overheard him let fall.

So, it's not quite enough to be mad babbling, but it is enough to make you wish for Melville in person, so you could shake him and scream, "Get to the point!" The story itself is pretty straightforward: Billy the Handsome (there is a fair amount of gay subtext in this novel, not the least of which appears to stem from Claggart's jealousy of Billy for being too. . . pretty. For real.) is accused of mutiny by the master-at-arms. Billy's method of dealing with the accusation is about as sensible as Melville's writing style, i.e., garaunteed to end in misery. There are good themes hidden in the story, of the battle between the letter of the law versus the spirit of the law. Compounding Billy's dire situation, and my headache, Melville treats us to an exhaustive (not extensive, perhaps, but certainly exhausting) treatise on the circumstances surrounding the plot - a period of dangerous unrest and mutiny in the British Navy. The atmosphere lends itself to urgency, while the players are left in the end to the worst fate of all: living with their own actions. Thought-provoking, but skimming will do just fine.

Trust Me

Trust Me, by Brenda Novak

Attacked four years ago at home by rapist and murderer Oliver Burke, Skye defended herself and put him behind bars. Inspired by her own struggle, Skye began the Last Stand—an organization focused on helping survivors and teaching self-defense. She is also wrestling with an attraction to the detective from her case, David Willis. When Burke cuts a deal, the fiend is out on the street, eager for revenge on Skye—who has been the focus of his continued obsession.

This isn't a bad book by any means - simply not a stellar one. The premise is, indeed, quite creepy, even if parts of the plot stretch the imagination at times. Skye is working on losing the fear that plagues every moment, something which has suddenly become much harder with the news that her attempted rapist and suspected murderer is being let out of prison early. No sooner does she get the bad news than disturbing events begin taking place. Skye is a good protagonist, one who puts her money where her mouth is, so to speak. Her actions, while they may initially appear extreme, aren't so unreasonable if you consider the trauma that she's been through - one of the most effective tools that Novak uses is the chilling possibility of this ever happening in real life. Novak is fairly skillful at presenting the helplessness and terror that arise from knowledge of your own vulnerability to stronger outside forces. Skye's struggle with her feelings for the detective are also relatable - rather than pine away for what he refuses to let happen, she makes the decision to move on. For the sake of my own peace of mind, I am ignoring the awful plot device which has the power to completely alter Skye's character, to the extent that within two days she suddenly gains the power to forgive and forget, despite three years of nonstop dwelling. The quick (and somewhat alarmingly cheery) wrap up at the end made my head spin, and yet for all that I wouldn't mind reading another by her.

The Hollow Kingdom Trilogy

The Hollow Kingdom (Book I), by Clare Dunkle

Kate and her younger sister, Emily, are orphans, sent to live with great aunts at remote and mysterious Hallow Hill. Hugh Roberts, their guardian, is a surly and somewhat sinister cousin. One afternoon, the girls come upon some strange people and an abnormally huge cat in a clearing. One of these folk, Marak, is a goblin king. He needs Kate to be his human bride, for goblins may not marry their own kind. When Emily disappears, Kate assumes that he is responsible and agrees to marry him in exchange for her sister's freedom.

This is a pretty fascinating book - this is a lot darker than normal fairy tales or romances. The underground kingdom, over which Marak rules, is not forgiving to new brides. The first section of the book is taken up with Marak's pursuit of Kate, and with the introduction of the world of goblins, as Dunkle imagines them. This book is, I think, the best of the trilogy, since although we are told that Marak is quite grotesque, we are still presented with his actions regarding Kate and Em, which redeem some of his flaws in character and appearance. The romance is, of course, problematic: he's an older goblin, whose first (captive) wife died insane, she's a young (late teens) girl with a sketchy guardian and a brash younger sister. Marak makes no bones about the fact that Kate is, basically, an unwilling captive, the latest in a long line of abducted young women and elves. Luckily, Dunkle doesn't ask us to suspend belief that Kate will be easily reconciled to her lot. However, the last section of the book deals with events about a year and a half after the beginning of the book, and I think that one of the greatest weaknesses of the story is that (for length purposes, I assume) we're not given a glance at how Kate's opinion has slowly undergone alteration, as it so clearly must have. This is a vastly gripping story, and has the power to both disgust and unsettle, while still maintaining sympathy for all characters - not an easy feat.

Close Kin (Book II)


As a human who has always thought of goblins as exciting and exotic creatures, Emily enjoys spending her days with the many goblin children in her care. She has no thought of marriage until she unintentionally rejects the awkward proposal of her best friend, Seylin. Devastated, he decides to leave the kingdom to search for his elf ancestors. Once Emily realizes that she is the cause of his departure, and how much she cares for him, she sets out to find him, accompanied by the curmudgeonly goblin, Ruby.

This book takes place seven years after the first, a time jump necessary to the plot of the story, although it does make one wistful for a more in-depth take on the intervening years for Kate. Both sisters have settled in more or less happily, until Em accidentally sets in motion several quests: her friend Seylin's quest to find elves (from who he gets his vast good looks), and Em's quest to find him. I hope it won't ruin too much of the story to say that both succeed. The elves that Seylin finds are unlike any elves that I've ever read about in fiction though - Dunkle's elves are desperate remnants, stealing food and living in filth and abject misery. This middle book has a lot less action in it - through most of it, the two lovebirds are simply wandering the wilds of England. This book feels like, and is, a set-up for the third in the trilogy. There is just not a lot to this book, although we are presented with the very deep mistrust and hatred that the elves have for goblins.



In the Coils of the Snake (Book III)

Marak, the goblin king, is dying, and his son, Marak Catspaw, is taking over the throne. Miranda, the human girl whom Marak has raised to be Catspaw's wife, has come to the underground goblin lands eager to start her role as King's Wife. When a new elf leader arrives and offers Catspaw an elven wife, Miranda's destiny disappears. She escapes the goblin kingdom and is captured by the elf leader, Nir. Meanwhile, elven Arianna, Catspaw's new Wife, is deeply unhappy with her underground life. In the end, both girls play a role in choosing a new life for both elves and goblins.

This one takes place about thirty years after the second book. I have to say that had they all been like this third book, I may not have finished the trilogy. There is a lot of subjugation of women in this one - both of the brides in itCofS are forced into marriage (literally - although there is less force in Miranda's case, probably because she was half out of her mind at the time) without warning or consultation. Unlike The Hollow Kingdom, the focus of this book is not on the relationship between the King and his bride, but rather on the coming war between goblins and elves (and I'm relieved to see that the elves in CotS have shaped up their personal hygiene habits). Thus, the readers are presented with a very ugly side of each race - both believe that the other is a barbarian, a fact of which, after itCotS, I had no doubt is true in both cases. Each king is domineering and suppressive, all in the name of protection and best interests, and it finally finally, just rubbed me the wrong way. I suppose, for Victorian England, the girls have actually done alright for themselves, but having to see what each bride endured didn't leave me with much sympathy for any of the characters - neither the kings, for being so crazy and harsh, nor the brides, for being so passive and accepting. Kate was a much more sympathetic protagonist, if only for the reason that she didn't stand around like a dumb tree while an elf put her through the marriage rites.


SO, my final verdict on these would have to be: excellently started, poorly finished. To be fair, the series stays true to the character of the world, which is never glossed over, nor prettied up. It is a harsh world in which every generation a horribly disfigured goblin kidnaps some young girl. And yet, the first book is so enjoyable because it does force Kate (and the reader) to evaluate Marak on more than simply the capture of his bride. The later books tread too close to Stockholm Syndrome for comfort. Although each husband is solicitous of his bride, there is very little to admire in the relationships that Dunkle presents at the end. The books are worth a read, if only to provoke thoughts along these and other lines - there certainly is a good deal about instinctual mistrust and prejudice of other races, which is played to good effect in both the second and third books - the second, by turning the common conception of elves on it's head, and the third by allowing us to see how little misunderstandings could result in larger wars. My only wish is that the later two books made me feel as torn about the forced marriages as the first book did - Kate and Marak's union had both positive and negative sides, while I saw only negatives for Miranda and Arriana. The fight between goblins and elves, although interesting, is resolved pretty quickly (also a problem in the second book) and neatly, leaving little to savor, since the personal relationships are given short shrift in exchange. I'm glad I read this series, since it's given me some new perspectives, and made me question some beliefs, but I feel like it could have been better - a longer, slower pace to give equal attention to personal as well as cultural battles would have done the trick.

Appetite for Detention

Appetite for Detention, by Sloane Tanen & Stefan Hagen

From back-to-school anxiety and chick cliques to gym class, teachers, and other eye-rolling icons of school life, these photographic scenes of the teen experience are as ingenious as they are hilarious. Specifically concerned with the trials and tribulations of high school and teendom, this book will have teens everywhere (and more than a few adults) laughing with recognition.

This is another of the chick picture books, although these are not bed-time stories, but instead pointed comments on the terribly small gap between children and adults, a la Uncle Shelby's ABZ Book. This particular volume concerns itself with the younger population, which is perhaps why it isn't my favorite - pictures of chicks getting a hot pink tan seem more effective, somehow, when it's about spoiled adults. There is also more of a linear story-line in AfD, in which eight chicks vie for popularity, love, and valid excuses for skipping phys ed. There are definitely some of the same winning lines that so endeared Bitter with Baggage Seeks Same to me (Sample from AfD: "Edgar wasn't a skater, a punk, a jock, a geek, or a nerd. He was just depressed, and he hadn't found that clique yet.") , but the pages were less packed with them. Still funny, but not the best of the bunch. See? I can resist the awful egg and chick puns when I really try. Even if I do die a little inside.

Wildwood Dancing

Wildwood Dancing, by Juliet Marillier

There are many mysteries within the wildwood. Jena and her sisters share the biggest of all, a fantastic secret that enables them to escape the confines of their everyday life in rural Transylvania. They have kept it hidden for nine long years.

When their father falls ill and must leave their forest home over the winter, Jena and her oldest sister Tati are left in charge. All goes well until a tragic accident allows their over bearing cousin Cezar to take control. The appearance of a mysterious young man in a black coat during their full moon revels divides sister from sister, and suddenly Jena finds herself fighting to save all she holds dear. With her constant companion Gogu by her side, she must venture to realms dark and perilous in her quest to preserve, not just those she loves, but her own independence as well.

The story is clearly a fairy tale, but one which Marillier has twisted beyond easy categorization. Jenica, the second eldest of five sisters, narrates the story, which is a good thing, because starting at about halfway through the book, I just wanted to slap her older sister, an urge which never really went away. This one was a bit of a slow starter for me - not one of the ones which grabbed me from the first chapter. On the contrary, the mass introduction of characters and names, both in Transylvania, and in the Other Kingdom put me off reading it, and only after about five chapters did I really settle into the story. This is obviously a take on the Twelve Dancing Princesses, although the initial premise is really all that they have in common. I enjoyed the building menace throughout the book, especially regarding the girls' cousin Cezar, who is kinda the archetypical domestic abuser.



Marillier is less adept at maintaining the mysteries of the book - the ending and several twists were broadcast far in advance, losing a lot of tension in terms of the "magical" problems that Jena deals with (as opposed to the "real" problems - i.e., her cousin's impending molestation and disinheritance of her, etc.). This was sort of inevitable, since the whole set up was a little intricate, and obviously required some notice before they explained it all away on the last page, but the intricacy of the premise combined with Jena's inability to decipher any the clues just gave me a headache. So rather than compelling me to solve the various parts of the mystery myself, I mostly just read in high dudgeon until it all got resolved.



To be fair, Jena does have a lot piled on her plate, and her oldest sister, as I mentioned earlier, is less than useless. Literally. There were some very lyrical parts of the book, but I never really felt swept away in either world - I didn't get a very good impression of the various attributes of each setting. However, in spite of the beginning, once Jena's story starts to take shape, the book becomes much more readable and enjoyable - it did give me a little bit of a warm fuzzy feeling, so I am not completely devoid of sympathy for true love after all.

The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks

The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, by E. Lockhart

Frankie Landau-Banks at age 14:
Debate Club.
Her father's "bunny rabbit."
A mildly geeky girl attending a highly competitive boarding school.

Frankie Landau-Banks at age 15:
A knockout figure.
A sharp tongue.
A chip on her shoulder.
And a gorgeous new senior boyfriend: the supremely goofy, word-obsessed Matthew Livingston.

Frankie Landau-Banks.
No longer the kind of girl to take "no" for an answer.
Especially when "no" means she's excluded from her boyfriend's all-male secret society.
Not when her ex-boyfriend shows up in the strangest of places.
Not when she knows she's smarter than any of them.
When she knows Matthew's lying to her.
And when there are so many, many pranks to be done.

Frankie Landau-Banks, at age 16:
Possibly a criminal mastermind.

This is the story of how she got that way.

This is not your average coming of age story - initially, I was a bit thrown by how bland the heroine was - she's basically this petulant adolescent, kinda whiny, completely focused on boys. And that's sort of how she stays - the whole book is one long look at boys. But then you begin to realize that that's the whole point - Frankie is doing all this looking, but it's not the kind of looking most girls are doing, it's the kind of looking that's taking stock and making plans. There's a point early on in the book that won me over - Frankie is at a party, invited by her upper-classman almost boyfriend, and it's just terrible, a bunch of guys doing dumb things and thinking they're funny. The narrator says that there are there are two types of reactions in this situation - pretend you're having a great time and fit in with the boys, or get out and stick with what you like doing - and Frankie chooses neither option. That statement rang so true to me, I couldn't help but enjoy Frankie's unique solution to the problem. That, and her thoughts about the Old Boys Club seemed very realistic, the anger from being excluded for such silly reasons. And of course, you can't protest without being labeled as lame or whiny or so on.

The pace picks up after a slow beginning, and you really begin to appreciate Frankie's imagination (even if I don't really empathize with the extent of her burning desire to be a part of the boys club, I do understand it). There were a lot of scenes which came across so vividly, I felt like I was really there - the action really kicks up the pace of the plot. Luckily there was a lot of humor in it, thanks to Frankie's plans and her own inner thoughts. DHoFLB is almost entirely from her point of view (although we do have an omniscient watcher commenting sometimes), which is good, because the scenes between Frankie and her boyfriend are so terrible that they could only be forgiven by hearing Frankie's unusual (and sane) take on things. I have to say that I was pleased by the ending, because one of the things I hated most about Frankie was that she was putting all this effort into, basically, trying to impress these guys, and I didn't think that there was any way for it to be worth it. So I was pleasantly surprised by the ending, which was fairly realistic, I think, and gave me (and Frankie) more to think about in terms of what she was trying to accomplish, and the worthwhile-ness of it.

So all in all, a fun read, and a thoughtful treatment of a topic which isn't normally discussed in teen books. There are very few things that Frankie and I have in common, but I still felt sympathetic to her, which is impressive. I can only hope that we may someday be treated to another Frankie story, possibly when she's grown up some, and in charge of her own criminal organization.

Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes

Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes, by Fadiman and Bernard, eds.

From Hank Aaron to King Zog, from Mao to Madonna, Bartlett's Book of Anecdotes is a collection of more than 4,000 entries and the best source for anecdotes on the market. Featuring more than 2,000 people past and present from around the world, in all fields of endeavor, these short anecdotes provide remarkable insights into the human character. Ranging from the humorous to the solemn, they span ancient history, recent politics, modern science, and the arts. Each entry includes a brief biography followed by one or more notable, lively, and insightful anecdotes that always deliver a punch of the unexpected.

So this is perhaps my all-time favorite reference book. Not a long list, admittedly, but this is leaps and bounds beyond all the others, with the possible exception of the Bartlett's Book of Quotations. Whenever I need a pick-me-up, a few pages flipped in BBoA will do the trick. One of my early favorites is as follows:

GEORGE-BROWN, Baron (b. 1914) British statesman, born George Alfred Brown
Lord George-Brown, at one stage of his career, was known to be a heavy drinker. At a certain diplomatic function when the orchestra struck up, he felt that as the senior British minister present he should start the dancing. Spying a gorgeously robed figure, he said, "Beautiful lady in scarlet, will you do me the honor of waltzing with me?" "Certainly not," was the sharp response. "In the first place, you are drunk; in the second this is not actually a waltz but the Venezuelan national anthem; and thirdly, I am not a beautiful lady in scarlet, I am, in fact, the papal nuncio."

And how I could resist this book after that, I will never know. This has spoonerisms, bon mots, even touching scenarios about invading soldiers who burst in upon maestros, only to ask them to accompany them on the piano as they sing in the company of greatness. All kinds of wild and crazy stories and improbable happenings are within. I leave you with this:

GRANT, Cary (1904-86) US actor born in England as Archie Leach.
A journalist was writing a story about Grant and needed some background information. Wiring to Grant's publicist, he asked, "How old Cary Grant?" Grant wired back, "Old Cary Grant fine. How you?"

Veil of Gold

Veil of Gold, by Kim Wilkins

When an ancient gold bear is found walled up in a dilapidated St. Petersburg bathhouse, researcher Daniel St. Clair and his frosty colleague Em Hayward set out for the university in Arkhangelsk to verify its age. Along the way they are mysteriously set adrift. Maps are suddenly useless. Lost and exhausted they turn north, sinking even deeper into the secrets and terrors of the Russian landscape.

Daniel’s lost love, the wild and beautiful Rosa Kovalenka, fears the worst when Daniel goes missing and resolves to find him. To do so will mean confronting her past and secrets that she has fought to suppress. The only way to save him is to go forward, where she encounters the haunted Chenchikov clan, a family with their own shadowy tangle of grief, desire, and treachery.

In the unknowable, impenetrable Russian forest, Rosa meets an enigmatic wanderer who is full of tales and riddles of times past. Who might hold the key to Rosa and Daniel’s future--or the destruction of their world.

This was an interesting book, catching my eye because of possible similarities to Enchantment, by Orson Scott Card, which I still re-read. This book has a lot more mysticism and a lot less humor than Enchantment. The worlds that Wilkins creates are richly imagined, peopled with creatures both bad and badder. Like all good fairy tales, it is about the journey, not the destination. The very beginning draws you in, with the discovery of the gold bear in the bathhouse. Clearly there is something unusual about the bear, proven both in it's discovery and in the electricity which passes between the bear and those it marks. Vasily, Rosa's uncle, is introduced to us and starts off promisingly, but in the end, his main purpose is plot device - leaving long enough for Daniel and Em to take the bear and go, then returning in time to send Rosa chasing after them. Most of Veil of Gold is split into two tales - that of Daniel and Em, trying to escape Skazki, and Rosa, stuck in Mir and looking for a way to cross over and rescue them. Interspersed with both of these stories is the history of the gold bear, as narrated by Papa Grigory, who has played many parts in Russia's history. The bear is a **spoiler!** MacGuffin, leading both characters and readers onward only to pull up abruptly in the end.


The end, in fact, is where I have most of my beefs. Through the book, we are given hints of various mysteries, including Rosa's reasons for breaking up with Daniel, Elizavetta's sickness, the bear's motives, and Papa Grigory's end game. Things are tied up neatly, but after finishing it, I kinda went back and thought it all out and went, ". . . really? Really?" Because, and I don't want to give too many things away here, but Rosa broke up with Daniel because she knew she would get Alzheimer's? Seriously? Yes, a disease you will likely die from when you're in your fifties is a great reason to break up with someone, then flee the country and refuse to tell them why you left. And I know that's a terrible way to go, but seriously, someone needs to slap some sense into that girl. So there's that. And also the terrible incompetance of Papa Grigory, who after all his shenanigans, apparently cannot notice after ninety years something that takes Rosa twenty minutes to figure out. Pssssh. So, all in all, a good book, a gripping book, and the scenes on the banks of the river in Skazki, where Daniel is abducted by russalki, are not to be missed. It's just - the ending is abrupt, and doesn't quite match the rest of the book. Still a good read, though.

1,001 Great Pick-Up Lines

1,001 Great Pick-Up Lines, by Tanqueray Sterling Vodka

"Compiled through a survey that asked bartenders and their customers to name the best pick-up lines, this collection features funny, clever, and romantic ways to make a favorable first impression."

I bought this for 25 cents, and while I don't regret it, neither would I have spent a penny more. Some of the lines are wonderfully cheesy, just the way I like them ("I'm lost. Which way to your house?" and "No wonder the sky is grey today. All the blue is in your eyes.") but it can be hard to find the gems among the insane ("Excuse me for not getting up. I broke my ankle falling off a polo pony."), the stupid ("Do you like chunky or smooth peanut butter?") and the downright creepy ("Gosh, you're pretty."). Still, it's good for a laugh, and inspiration. As a bonus, if you ever want to get out of a date fast, many of these also work as exits, since I can pretty much guarantee you that no one is looking for that special someone to say "You look just like the Mona Lisa's younger sister."

The Summoning

The Summoning (Darkest Powers, book 1), by Kelley Armstrong:

"My name is Chloe Sanders and my life will never be the same again. All I wanted was to make friends, meet boys, and keep on being ordinary. I don't even know what that means anymore. It all started the day that I saw my first ghost - and the ghost saw me.
Now there are ghosts everywhere and they won't leave me along. To top it all off, I somehow got myself locked up in Lyle House, a 'special home' for troubled teens. Yet the home isn't what it seems. Don't tell anyone, but I think there might be more to my housemates than meets the eye. The question is, whose side are they on?"

While I enjoyed parts of this book (the opening is particularly creepy) I was eventually disappointed by it. Part of the problem is that not only is it the first in a series, but it ends on a cliffhanger - not something I usually enjoy. That means that there are a lot of unresolved questions, and character motivations are still somewhat mysterious, which means less investment in them. I really like Armstrong's adult fantasy books, which is why I picked this one up, but the characters here don't have the same "zing" factor that her adult protagonists do. This is pretty much just 400 pages of set-up and there isn't enough resolution or action (although the action does kick up in the last couple of chapters) to make me anxious for the next book.