Read my full review: https://www.mwgerard.com/review-heads-of-ceberus/
Francis Stevens (real name Gertrude Barrows Bennett) published her first story in 1904. She was just 17 years old. Like the teenage Mary Shelley and Frankenstein before her, she changed how speculative fiction would be written afterwards, but for some reason Stevens is not a household name. Hopefully, that is about to change.
Stevens’ writing is both reflective of the societal upheaval in her time and freshly insightful. And frighteningly, there are intense similarities to tensions today. Her clear-eyed, laser pointed writing strips away any pretense, leaving the simple truth to make the reader queasy.
Anyone who enjoys speculative or science fiction like The Twilight Zone, or steampunk like Jules Verne, or dystopian novels like The Hunger Games needs to be reading Francis Stevens.
My thanks to David at MIT Press for the review copy.
I tried three times to read this book but I could never get into it. The summary sounds precisely like something I would enjoy but after more than 100 pages nothing had happened. I had to set it aside.
I never tire of this subject matter and am always looking to learn about new-to-me authors and characters in the genre. While I generally enjoyed and appreciated this book, I was occasionally put off by the writer’s frequent insistence that no one (besides her) has ever heard of these figures. I grant they are lesser known and deserve more attention, but even an amateur enthusiast like me knew several of these ‘unknowns.’
Zoning is one of the more mundane -- and potentially nefarious -- aspects of modern living. Bureaucratic at its core, at times inscrutable for the average person, it can make or break a city. It can also ruin a neighborhood, encourage new business, or protect natural resources. Brown uses examples of zoning, good and bad, to illustrate her points, though I wish she had included more ways to create protective ordinances.
Put on some warm, fuzzy socks and give yourself some chills reading about these places around the world. Some of these places you'll have heard of; others are more esoteric. The strength of this book is the design and layout. Double page spreads with attractive diagrams and maps put it somewhere between guide and coffee table book. Read via NetGalley.
Read my full review: https://www.mwgerard.com/review-death-sign-rook/
Detective Jackson Brodie has retired from the police force and moved to a quiet town in Yorkshire, taking on the occasional private matter to keep things interesting. His current case is centered around a missing painting. "Woman with a Weasel," a valuable old portrait, hangs over the bed of the matriarch, but it disappears after she dies -- and the in-home carer has likewise dematerialized.[spacer height="20px"]
On his way out, he noticed something he hadn't seen on the way in -- a small patch of ground at the side that had been fenced off and contained headstones, all in different styles. It took Jackson a moment to realize this was a display rather than a graveyard -- Jessop's offered the full service, right down to the stonemason. It was rather like exiting through the gift shop. ~Loc. 1446
[spacer height="20px"]Meanwhile, at the local manorhouse of Burton Makepeace, the current inhabitants are struggling to keep the roof fixed and the heating bill paid. Despite the distaste the family has for rank commercialism, they recognize the necessity of allowing the public in for various events. Especially since their priceless Turner was stolen before they could sell it and raise any funds.[spacer height="20px"]
Lady Milton wasn't particularly fond of any of her children, preferring her dogs, two black Labradors, Tommy and Tuppence -- a brother and sister -- reasonable creatures compared to her own. ~ Loc. 359
[spacer height="20px"]Lady Milton and her family have been reduced to opening the stately home for a murder mystery weekend, complete with out-of-town guest players, community theatre actors, and an amateur script. Of course, just as the unsophisticated guests come tromping in, a massive blizzard traps them all inside, perhaps with a murderer.[spacer height="20px"]
'Lady Milton', who was herself probably one of the Murder Mystery company pretending to be the real Lady Milton. Perhaps the entire house was just one big theatrical set. And here he was on stage, a solitary man with his prop, an empty wheelbarrow, like a character in a farce, or a play by Brecht -- both equally unappetizing theatrical experiences in Ben's view. ~Loc. 2856
Brodie's inner monologue is always cranky, sharp, and amusing, and this book is no different. He remains the reluctant hero, by dint of being the one who shows up, not because he has any magnificent altruism.
The novel itself takes on a "Noises Off" or "Murder by Death" slapstick quality once the murder mystery party gets into the swing. Random people answering the doorbell or being asked to show people to their rooms. A body (maybe?) appears then disappears. It's mayhem and no one knows who is in charge.
I really enjoyed Case Histories (and the TV adaptation with Jason Issacs) and I am excited to see the Jackson Brodie has returned.
My thanks to Doubleday for the review e-galley. Read via NetGalley.
The basic setup is good enough but the story just never really gets going. I like moody novels as much as anyone the atmospherics weren't enough to keep me interested to wait for it.
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
Three years after the Bolsheviks have murdered the royal family and seized control of the country, the rebels have arrived at the crumbling Goliteva mansion. Once a prosperous family, members of the minor aristocracy, they have been relegated to the bare, freezing attic while soldiers tromp below. What little food they had is taken by the unwelcome guests.
Sisters Lila and Irina go to the market each day, in hopes of securing scraps for their family back home. On a recent trip they happen to meet two young Americans working for the American Relief Association. A sanctioned organization, they help deliver charity to displaced Russians. They offer the sisters jobs at the agency, an offer they tentatively accept.
By day they lend their talents to their modern reality. But at night the literal ghosts of their ancestors come back to life in their old home. This novel imagines a liminal world where the past demands to be part of the present.
Irina calls her fanciful whenever she mentions ghosts. Still, something isn’t right about the house, hasn’t been right since Uncle Pasha was shot dead there three years before, and Grandpere Sergei succumbed to his illness mere days after. …
Lili notices the rest of her family, hovering in the elaborately carved doorway to the East Wing…. They used to be the glitered site of soirees, of intimate conversations punctuated by peels of elegant laughter, of piping hot samovars and platters of mouthwatering pastilla desserts their butler Dmitri would set out proudly. Can she see Uncle Pasha’s tall figure? Papa’s shorter frame, his charming face? No, they are dead. … There is no denying it. She saw a ghost. Really saw it. Him. Uncle Pasha. Still shadow, but more than a flicker. More than just air. ~ Loc. 871
My thanks to Berkley for the review copy. Read via NetGalley.