I ♥ This Art is a weekly feature on Tempting Persephone. Art, no matter the medium, buoys my spirit up. Each week I’ll spotlight a piece that speaks to me, makes me want to know more, or taps into some emotion or sentiment.
“The Seed of Life” by d3monicanarchist
Because heaven knows memory had nothing to do with it, a stroke of pure luck found me surfing the television guide last night, a shade or two before nine o’clock. My gaze caught on PBS’s Masterpiece and that was the catalyst; I recalled that the BBC’s most recent incarnation of Sherlock was set to premiere. That was that; the rest of my evening was happily set. And when Sherlock and Watson were walking away, side by side, from the resolution of the case, I turned to my husband and said: That was awesome. To which, with the smallest smile, he replied: It was alright.
Dratted man.
Really, though, it was more than alright, and just how much I enjoyed it came as a surprise. Conceptually, I loved it. Plunk Holmes and Watson down in contemporary London, set Watson up with a blog, Holmes with a web site, and give them both cell phones for amusing texts and a quick check of the weather. Add in a dose of Mycroft and Sherlock having mummie issues, an exasperated, going to be great fun Lestrade, and a neat visual aide for Holmes’ lightning fast deductions, and you’ve got something good.
Plus, another surprise, I quite liked Benedict Cumberbatch as modern-day Holmes. Sherlock loves a good challenge, a chance to pit his intellect against another, but you could literally see it spark on Cumberbatch’s face; it was in his eyes, the draw of his mouth. His enthusiasm, for lack of a more apt word, was catching. But even more, I liked Martin Freeman as Dr. Watson. Freeman expertly balanced all of the good doctor’s traits. And what’s better? Cumberbatch and Freeman had chemistry; it was subtle, which made sense since the characters had only just been introduced. But the potential! And the one thing I require of any Holmes retelling is chemistry between the pair; without it, I will studiously ignore the show/film/book/etc.
My one complaint, and it’s minor, was that Cumberbatch spit out his deductions so quickly, I couldn’t always follow. The superior rush of words fit his take on the character, I thought, which made it easier to bear.
So. I know what I’ll be doing the next two Sundays at nine o’clock.
Ah, alliteration! And, also, I’m just quickly pulling my head out of the sand here for a moment to post this…
| Yeah, I pretty much can’t wait. |
If I could literally do so without suffocating, I might. Though with the way I’ve been feeling lately – tears ever imminent, it seems – I’d likely pull an Alice and flood the sandy desert-like area into a river.
So.
As it turns out, going through the graduation process from graduate school is a lot harder than 1) it needs to be and 2) one would think. And that’s on top of…a lot of other stuff, both academic and personal. Which is all just to say, I’m not going to be around for a week or so. As much as I hate for this place to go quiet, I’ve got no other option.
Until I return, happy reading!
“I met Fred first.
Fred: Hot. Enigmatic. Alex’s first friend in her lonely new town. Maybe her first…everything.
I met Adina the following Monday.
Adina: Fred’s twin sister. Cold. Troubled. Trouble.
I kissed him.
She pressed her mouth to my mouth.
People warn Alex to steer clear of the twins, but Alex is drawn to them. She wants to be part of their crazy world…no matter the consequences.” [Publisher's Summary]
A frenetic, staccato, never-ending moment; that’s what Her and Me and You felt like. From the first line, the story rolls like a raindrop on glass; days and events blur one into another, punctuated by trigger fast dialogue, and then just…ends.
Of the dialogue: So many sentences were comprised of a single word. An equal number seemed to take on the shape of: “Yeah. Yes.” The excess of spare dialogue made the characters feel like these remote beings, untouchable, too good for the company they kept. And by company I mean me, the reader. But…
Before going further, I should admit that this style and narration – bare, straight to the point – is, through no fault of the authors or their effort, not one that typically works for me. I find it hard to savor prose that is broken-glass sharp, stories that rely on minimal language; I’ve always been fond of ones that linger if not meander. In the case of Her and Me and You, the style made it difficult for me to emotionally connect with the characters. Actually, it was a no-go; I didn’t care for or about even one.
Another piece of honesty: I just didn’t get this book. There are issues – anorexia, alcoholism, and family dysfunction to name a few – but not one is pinned down or explored. Maybe they weren’t meant to be, who knows? After finishing the short novel, I’ve no idea what I was supposed to have taken from it. Adrina’s manipulation should have felt creepy, but it came off as desperate and obvious. Fred’s naivete wasn’t portrayed in a manner that prompted belief. What exactly Alex saw in him, I’m not sure. The success of this story, I think, rests largely in the reader’s ability to buy into the relationship between the three, and I just couldn’t.
From the reviews I’ve read, I’m in the minority with this reaction. The one point we do come together on is the pace of the story; the pages turn quickly, they’re easily read, and it doesn’t take a lot of time to read Her and Me and You cover to cover.
This book might be for some, it just wasn’t for me. If you read it, I hope you fall into the first category.
| What Others are Saying: The Hiding Spot Sarah’s Random Musings Zoe’s Book Review |
Author Website | Blog |
I ♥ This Art is a weekly feature on Tempting Persephone. Art, no matter the medium, buoys my spirit up. Each week I’ll spotlight a piece that speaks to me, makes me want to know more, or taps into some emotion or sentiment.
“Crimson Door” by *shley77
“It’s Been So Long” by *shley77
“When Addy is swept back in time, she couldn’t be happier to leave her miserable life behind. Now she’s mistaken for Lady Matilda, the pampered ward of the king. If Addy can play her part, she’ll have glorious gowns, jewels, and something she’s always longed for—the respect and admiration of others. But then she meets Will, the falconer’s son with sky blue eyes, who unsettles all her plans.
From shipwrecks to castle dungeons, from betrothals to hidden conspiracies, Addy finds herself in a world where she’s not the only one with a dangerous secret. When she discovers the truth, Addy must take matters into her own hands. The stakes? Her chance at true love . . . and the life she’s meant to live.” [Publisher's Summary]
Because I am of two minds regarding Wildwing, this is a prickly review to handle. There is a good deal to commend the novel: Lovely imagery, a sweet, likable romantic interest, and a nice falconry-as-freedom metaphor. But there were a few things that I kept stumbling over: A heroine that provoked here-and-gone-and-back-again empathy in this reader, a too convenient time travel element, and an equally convenient ending.
Addy is not content with the life she was born to; she can’t stand the scrutiny her fatherless childhood focuses on her, cannot tolerate being looked down upon and ridiculed, and is galled by the necessity of working for the high-brows who turn her into the butt of every joke. All too often she lets her temper lead her; as understandable as her response is, it gets her into no end of trouble. Initially, I felt for Addy. But somewhere along the way, her justifiable feelings of hurt and anger became something more closely related to woe-is-me. It was further compounded by her behavior once she goes back in time and is mistaken for a lady of standing. Her “I’m a lady, I am, and I can go anywhere I want!“* thoughts were childish and didn’t endear her to me at all. She waffled between being everything she hated in her previous life to doing small, kind things for those below her borrowed station. Half of the time I liked her, the other half not so much, and that unsteady connection to her had a hand in shaping my mixed feelings towards the story as a whole.
Will, the falconer’s son, was a sweet, truly good guy, and was somewhat flat for it. Still, I liked him. And I appreciated how perceptive he could be.
…He sees the question in my eyes. “To call her back,” he says.
“Won’t she come back to you anyway?”
“Ah, it needs to be her choice.” He smiles. “You’re never a falcon’s master; you’re her equal. Not like herd animals. Dogs live to obey, and horses and men like to know who’s in charge. But what cares a falcon if you approve or no?” He gazes down at Pilgrim. “She’ll always be wild at heart.” Then, softer: “You feel it. I know you do.”**
That idea of being free as a bird willingly teethered carried throughout the story; Addy craved the same life for herself. And Will saw it in her, would be the hand she came back to if she wanted it, but would give her the space she needed to fly. And the falcons themselves were a part of the lovely imagery that Whitman skillfully drew.
Unfortunately, to go into detail about the time travel or ending would be to risk spoilers, so I won’t. Suffice to say, neither quite worked for me. Too, there’s a mystery aspect that is obvious from very early on, which lessens the impact of an event towards the end of the story.
Despite being on the fence about Wildwing, I’ll definitely pick up the next book Whitman releases.
| What Others are Saying: YA Addict Bookalicio.us Rebecca’s Book Blog |
Author Website
I received a finished review |
*Page 105
**Pages 174-5
“Forced to drop out of an esteemed East Coast college after the sudden death of her parents, Jane Moore takes a nanny job at Thornfield Park, the estate of Nico Rathburn, a world-famous rock star on the brink of a huge comeback. Practical and independent, Jane reluctantly becomes entranced by her magnetic and brooding employer and finds herself in the midst of a forbidden romance.
But there’s a mystery at Thornfield, and Jane’s much-envied relationship with Nico is soon tested by an agonizing secret from his past. Torn between her feelings for Nico and his fateful secret, Jane must decide: Does being true to herself mean giving up on true love?
An irresistible romance interwoven with a darkly engrossing mystery, this contemporary retelling of the beloved classic Jane Eyre promises to enchant a new generation of readers.” [Publisher's Summary]
I’ll begin this review with an ending: In the end, when the last few pages of Jane were turning under my hand, butterflies gathered in my stomach and flew. My reaction was immediate and visceral and twofold: On the one hand, I wanted to hold the book to my chest, and on the other, I wanted to get it into someone else’s hands so that they could experience it too. In short, I adored April Lindner’s Jane.
I can – and do – love and admire feisty heroines. It’s a distant sort of admiration, wistful even, because those girls and I do not share a similar reflection. But Jane, she resonated. I recognized her scars, her quiet strength, her halting but unshakable determination, and it made all the difference in the world. Invested in her as I was, my reading experience was imbued with pleasure and nearly painful tension; I knew Jane would encounter trials, just as I knew she’d find her happiness. The getting there set my emotions swinging. Every once in a while I need a Jane, someone truer to myself, not only in the books I read, but in the stories that move me.
Obvious divergences aside, Jane is a faithful retelling. It surprised me, actually, how true some of it was to the original, and where it slipped off the path, the logic of its contemporary issues made perfect sense for its modern setting. Casting Nico as a rock star was a stroke of brilliance. His passion for music struck me; the complications that came with his fame lent his character an appropriate edge; and the difference between his position and Jane’s gave the “forbidden love” aspect credence. Nico was sexy and disarming, arrogant and self-aware, tender and domineering; he was a million shades of shouldn’t-be-but-is wonderful.
I can’t claim to be a fan of the original Jane Eyre; that might simply be put down to reading Bronte’s novel at the wrong time in my life. But Jane is a novel that my younger self would have cherished as surely as I do now.
| What Others are Saying: Angieville See Michelle Read Book Harbinger |
Author Web Site | Jane‘s Facebook Page |
I was out of the house far longer than I anticipated, but I brought along the Russell book to surreptitiously read here and there. Haven’t finished it yet, though, so I’m going to put it down for a bit and pick up a few manga novels I’ve been keen on reading. I’ll be updating this post as the evening progresses; hopefully with more pages read!
Oh, and a huge thanks to all the cheerleaders who commented on my first post! You guys are awesome! 
9:07 PM Update
Why did I only bring home the first two volumes of Silver Diamond? I always do this with established manga series: I get hooked and have to wait to get my hands on the other volumes. Anyway, I got through volumes one and two quickly. That’s about 362 pages between the two of them.
What to read next? I’m thinking perhaps one of the short stories I had planned on reading. Or maybe I’ll continue on with Russell’s novel. Eh. I’ll decide in front of my shelves. That’s assuming that I can get off the couch without waking either my sleeping husband or snoozing pup.
 |
The little miss climbed out of bed this morning and, having decided she wanted to join me, promptly picked up her latest read. Looks like I’ll have quiet company on the couch. At least for a little while.
I actually began Mary Doria Russell’s Dreamers of the Day yesterday and will be continuing with it to kick things off. It’s a short novel and the book is already half-finished, which is good because we do have plans to go out for a bit this morning. After that, though…
It’s all books, all the time. Until the 24 hrs – or however many of them I can manage – are done.
