Review: The Name of the Star, Maureen Johnson

As of about two minutes ago, I finished this book.





If you're lucky and live in the Northern Hemisphere, you can stroll into a bookstore and grab this book all willy-nilly. (Please pay for it, though.) If, like me, you're in Australia - sorry, you're apparently waiting til October.

I'd heard a lot about this book via Twitter. I follow Maureen Johnson and John Green for literary and general lulz. Various People of the Internet posted that they'd gotten their paws on the book.
I trotted into work and found the reader's copy of it, claimed it as my own, and devoured it.

Louisiana native Aurora - sorry, Rory -Deveraux has just started at a boarding school in England when the first murder strikes. Not only are they absolutely horrific, they mimic the Ripper murders in a really distressing way. Everyone is possessed with fear. Who is this new Ripper? The police, of course, haven't a clue. No leads. No witnesses. CCTV cameras, pointed directly at the murders, only capture the victims.
But Rory, somehow, has seen the suspect they're searching for. But no one else can see him.

London becomes quite a different London than my head likes to picture it when I read this book. It's almost as if the pictures I have stored in my mind have been brushed over with a Victorian-tinted paint (yes, it's sepia). And while this book is set in the here and now, Maureen Johnson so perfectly takes you into the depths of Rippermania, the levels that Victorian London would have shivered in. There is something that changes so subtly as you wade deeper into the pages - what appears to be a normal teen boarding school novel at first, fraught with those typical teen emotions, gradually becomes more sinister as you progress. Maybe I'm weird, but I've always viewed books with colour. Reading this, we began with glorious Technicolor. We moved to slightly brown tinges, credpig along the edges of the page. And at the end - I felt blackness. It was amazingly done, the progression to each colour so minute, I couldn't even pinpoint where each staged morphed into the next.

Characters are always what will get me hooked in a novel, and Maureen Johnson's are no exception. I adore Rory from the moment I found her leaping from the pages.

"In my town... hurricane preparations generally include buying more beer, abs ice to keep that beer cold when the power goes out. We do have a neighbour with a two-man rowboat lashed on the top of the porch roof... but that's Billy Mack, and he started his own religion in the garage, so he's got a lot more goin on than just an extreme concern for personal safety."

Jazza's quirks were instantly endearing too. Maybe it's just that I want an awesome British pal, but seriously:

"Aside from being the kind of person who used 'whom' correctly while gossiping..."

"'On Saturdays I sometimes treat myself to a sandwich and a cake.' ... Everything was a tiny celebration with her."

Alistair, Boo, Callum, Stephen. All amazing characters, all sketched out in enough detail. I found myself impatient to find out more about Stephen, and thank you, Maureen, I was given it. Rory noticing Boo's way of speaking made everything more real. Callum and the tattoo - oh, the backstory we could have!
The only character I wasn't overly impressed with was Jerome, but I found his creepy fascination with Rippers new and old extremely disturbing. Even for a journo. Even though I do the same for bridal magazines. I did find it amusing when he knew exactly how to goad Jazza into sneaking out, however.

I won't say much else in fear of destroying plot (and also, I am rather sleepy). But honestly, you must read this book. First in a series! Hooray!

And, because I cannot say it any better than Holly Black, I'll part with her words:
This book made me want to give up everything, move to London, and fight ghosts.

Even if I'm quaking in my ghost-busting boots the entire time.

(No links today. On the phone makes this rather difficult.
In the next few days - definitely during this coming week - look out for my review of Miranda Darling's latest novel, The Siren's Sting. I received it on Thursday from the kind folks at Allen and Unwin. Not only does it look to be a rockin' good read, but it's also part of this year's Get Reading campaign. So if you buy it from the 1st - 30th of September, you'll receive a free book! Awesome, right?
Anyway, more on that in the review post.)

See you soon!

Book Friday: Spring for Susannah, Catherine Richmond

Straight after the death of her father, Susannah Underhill decides to take her friend's advice and get married. She's not met Jesse Mason before. He's the pastor's brother, but lives far out west in Dakota. The two don't seem a likely match at all, but as time goes on and they get to know one another and, more importantly, trust one another, love inevitably blossoms. This story charts the first few years of their marriage, and the ups and downs that come with it.

I'll admit it. I didn't get into this book at first.
Maybe it was the writing, maybe it was that I was emotionally invested in another Jesse and Susannah, maybe it was that I'd just finished a book and I didn't want to give that up.
I put this book down (/closed the app on my phone), and a week later I picked it up not expecting too much.

Tash was proven wrong.

Turns out this is a debut story. Well, that surprised me. With the whole story in context, her writing is very cleverly manipulated to reflect the situation. What originally struck me as stilted was actually excellent in building atmosphere; Jesse and Susannah became their own characters with their own story that I desperately wanted to get to the end of - and not just so it was over.

It's an interesting concept, being a mail-order bride. And that was what prompted me to choose this book - finding out more about this whole idea. How difficult would it be to marry in such a situation? Catherine showed the emotion that would come with making - and following through - on this decision with remarkable skill, and as the story progressed we learned more and more about Jesse and Susannah's traits. Truth be told, it was like the reader becomes a third party in their relationship (as creepy as that sounds). What Jesse learned, so did I; what Susannah began to notice in her husband, so did I, and I became more attentive to these quirks as I lost myself more in the story.

It did seem at points that Jesse and Susannah were built on massive cliches; of course the man had to be the strong, confident, ready to take charge protagonist we've always been given. Ivar wasn't much different. Susannah followed her set path of quiet, shy, constantly apologetic woman who doesn't seem to have much passion for anything. Marta was the serene woman that I've never once come across (perhaps they existed back then and crazy women like myself hunted them into extinction). This bothered me less as Catherine revealed more of the character, but it would have been nice to have seen more of what prompted Susannah to marry Jesse beyond, "It seemed like a good idea". Jesse's "I was lonely" was equally disappointing. I wanted juiciness, gosh darn it!

But regardless of these criticisms, I was hooked. I was certainly transported back to the dirt house in Dakota of times gone past, and was shocked to find myself blinking back to 21st century Australia. This book was a Christian novel, but I don't really think I'd class it as that (at least not as its primary genre). It's historical romance, plain and true.

Overall, I'd give this book 4 stars. Good stuff, Catherine Richmond. Approve muchly.

This book lives at Book Depository

Disclosure of Material Connection: This book was most lovingly supplied to me by Booksneeze, free of charge. Opinions are most thoroughly my own, positive or otherwise.

Book Friday: The Promise of an Angel, Ruth Reid

Review of Sisterhood Everlasting, Ann Brashares.

**Spoilers lurk in this entire post. Just in case you're not a fan of them.**


In case you'd thought I'd forgotten about books, fear not! I have been momentarily distracted by sexist freakshows, stunning wedding dresses and the whole why-must-men-be-so-hard-to-understand.
Can't help really thinking these are related, however distantly.
Anyway, back to a book post. 


High school was a massive pain in the butt. Rather than being shuttled off to the same school as my friends, I was shoved off to a private school that was opposite a beach.

Sharpes Beach, Skennars Head. Along this highway, the surfie
kids on the bus would all simultaneously turn to stare at the waves,
either in horror or in ecstasy. 

I think that was about the plus of my high school years, until every single resident of every city in the country decided to move around the school and block off any view I had out the window during Maths.

Anyway, I couldn't spend all day in a second-storey classroom, gazing at the ocean despondently and wishing I was looking at the llamas instead which were reportedly a fixture at Alstonville High. For one, the teachers glared at anyone left hovering inside the mustard-yellow rooms (clearly designed to send students to early insanity), and also, it would have cemented my position as social outcast.

So I chose the next most likely route to social leprosy - I spent my lunchtimes in the library. 

The library was a thing of solace in the outer regions of purgatory - which high school most certainly was; I missed the freedom of primary school, and I just wanted to get out and flee to the comforts of university - and I relished the time spent there. In year 7, it was squashed into the two old drama classrooms at the bottom of C Block (a 'soothing' - read, depressing - blue). Later it moved into a designated library, and that place was heaven.

I became pretty good pals with the librarian, Gloria. Gloria was brilliant, having noticed my penchant for borrowing a book, and returning it the next day with a fairly solid review. However, she also noticed that I tended to, in my nostalgia for primary school, stuck to the novels I'd discovered there. She made me a proposition.

"Read this book," she said, sliding a novel across the counter towards me, "and you can borrow three books."

The book she gave me?

Obviously, it's a new release cover, but
I do like this pretty version.

At this stage, I only slightly trusted Gloria. I didn't trust her enough to fully submit to the books she gave me, but enough that I'd take the book in order to borrow three.

(Also, she threatened that she'd not allow me to borrow books I'd read already.)

And. I. Loved. It.

Yeah, unnecessary punctuation, but you get it.

Enough about my high school experiences and Gloria. We'll fast-forward six years to Friday July 1, 2011.

I went into work and sitting next to our new-release table was a glorious new stand. I didn't really pay it much mind as I saw the four bottom titles. I'd already read the Sisterhood books and I could practically recite them, but it was handy; now, I could refer them to customers.

Yet on the Saturday, I noticed the fifth novel on the stand, bought it on the Sunday, and devoured it in an afternoon.

If you've read the Sisterhood novels, it goes without saying - you must read this book.

If you've not read the Sisterhood novels - you must read this book.

(If someone has read it without reading the first four, is it confusing?)

As most teen novels do, Sisterhood Everlasting deals with the themes of friendship, love, loss and family. However, what's interesting is that it's ten years later. The characters are firmly ensconced in adult lives, and those themes are nicely translated without turning into vapid chick-lit (see: Louise Bagshawe, Venus Envy, avoid if you can). The girls and their partners have moved away from each other, and are facing life without each other - and, more importantly, without the ritual of the pants to remind them of the friendship. Lena, half-heartedly seeing a nondescript sandwich maker, lives in Providence and teaches at RISD. Carmen has become a successful actress in New York, engaged to Jones (universally hated). Bridget and Eric are in San Francisco, where Bridget temps - still the free spirit - and Eric is a lawyer. Tibby and Brian have moved to Australia, for Brian's gaming work. 

Yet out of the blue, letters arrive for Lena, Bridget and Carmen. Tibby has organised a trip to Santorini (the island where Lena's grandparents used to live), and the three meet her there.

Tibby suddenly dies, drowning in the Caldera. And afterwards, as the girls have to deal with this in their own ways, the novel charts what happens when they're apart.

It's a fantastic read, and I very much enjoyed stepping back into these characters' lives. Brashares knows these characters inside-out, and this was far better than her other efforts. (My Name Is Memory appears to be completely stolen from Lauren Kate's Fallen; correct me if I'm wrong, but the covers/synopses/names seem eerily alike. Three Willows was a bad follow-up to the awesomeness of the Sisterhood.) I know that many people are horrified at the concept of authors continually revisiting characters, but I think this was a perfect and completely necessary addition to the series. I'm a sucker for the Lena-Kostos romance, and it thankfully resurfaces and reaches a delightfully satisfying conclusion. (The fourth novel didn't wrap it up at all and this angered me a teeny tiny little bit. Okay, maybe a lot.) And it's nice to see the characters maturing and growing, while still retaining their essential personalities. Bridget is still the free-wheeling, vaguely immature, je ne sais quoi Bridget that we were introduced to in books 1-4, but she's forced to grow up and forced to stop running from her problems. Carmen is still as dramatic as ever - her scene on the train with Roberto and his kids made me naww all over the place. Lena, still as shy as ever and as insecure of her relationship with Kostos, though I admit I was very surprised to see that she was the one teaching. 

What did irritate me was Eric's personality - really, the entire Bridget-Eric relationship. Eric was painted as a completely passive character, contrary to the Eric we were introduced to in the first novel. Actually, it wasn't passiveness. He treated Bridget with the weariness of a father with a toddler. And Bridget, for the majority of this novel, acted like a child in a very unappealing way for someone who was meant to be 28/29. I suppose it suited when she was eighteen, but not now. It did amuse me when she went out to Australia, how Brian noted that toddler Bailey (Tibby and Brian's daughter) and nearly-thirty Bridget were very alike. Oh Brian, how you hit that nail on the head. 

Yet how Bridget just upped and left, cheated on Eric, failed to tell him about the pregnancy until 20 weeks in and expected him to be all howdy-do about it? Painful. Just... so very painful. Eric gave her $10,000, and she says 'sayonara' and flees across the world with nary a word? 

Eric, maybe you're stronger than I am, and maybe you're old before your time, having looked after Toddler Bridget for too long. But I'd be donning my Goodbye Hat and leaving long before it got to the $10,000 stage.

Lena and Kostos finally getting together made me squirm with glee. 

"Hey," he said. "It's someday." He said the last word in Greek.

Overall, I'd give this book 4 stars. My irritation with Bridget made me want to attack her with a copy of the novel, and shout at her "YOU ARE NEARLY THIRTY, WOMAN, STOP BEING SO DARN FLIGHTY AND IRRESPONSIBLE". I know, I know. Homage to Marly and how she couldn't cope yet Bridget now can. WHAT. EVER.
Everything else in the novel? Perfection. Go pick it up somewhere (support a local bookstore, because stupid Amazon bought out Book Depository and my sadpandaface is firmly on). I got mine for $25; RRP is $29.99.
You'll adore it.
I hope.

I'll get back to the thirty days of books tomorrow, kay?
Kay.
I've given up le Fachebook for a month and as a result, I'm mainly tweeting from my phone. First time in forever I've hooked up the phone to the laptop.