Tag: kiersten white

YEAR IN REVIEW ○ 2024

~ Ricardo ~ Leave a comment

The very best I can say for 2024 is that it was a good reading year. Personal? Not so much. But this blog, despite all my rantings and diatribes, is about the more literary aspect of my precious little life, so we’re going to focus on that, instead of… the rest.

(The one great thing that happens to overlap both aspects of my life is the fact that I started writing for Booklist, something that makes me incredibly happy and proud. It’s been a great experience thus far, and I think I’ve already learned a lot in the few months I’ve been with them. Exciting!)

I read some really fine books this year. These are some of them:

CHRISTMAS DAYS by Jeanette Winterson

This is, so far, the only Jeanette Winterson book I’ve read, but I was ready to call her a favorite author upon finishing it. I fell absolutely head-over-heels in love with her writing—so much so that I found the vignettes written before the recipes she’s included here almost as beautiful as the short stories themselves. (It’s a true testament to her skill that she took what was essentially a meme in the online culinary world—the drawn-out preambles before cooking instructions—and made wonderful art with it.)⠀

A true Christmas collection, in the purest sense of the term, as Winterson runs through the absolute gamut of wintry tales: from unsettling ghost stories down to charming, sickly-sweet romances—all written with sublime grace and aplomb. Christmas Days quickly became synonymous with the holiday season for me, and I may just make it an annual tradition to read it. Wonderful stuff.

THE WEE FREE MEN by Terry Pratchett

Genuinely don’t know why I torture myself by depriving myself of these wonderful books for such long intervals. This was my first Pratchett book in a handful of years, and reading it felt like coming back to a home full of love and understanding that was also, maybe, just a tiny bit disappointed in me.⠀

Because The Wee Free Men is a brilliant showcase of Pratchett’s famous righteous anger. Tiffany Aching, like her creator, is an angry person, positively full of rage. She just uses that rage to make the world a better, more compassionate place—if only to spite the darkness. Beautiful and necessary. 

MY FATHER, THE PORNOGRAPHER by Chris Offutt

Chris Offutt’s less-than-flattering portrait of his flawed father is a challenging, thought-provoking, and undoubtedly fascinating read. I flew through this in a day, despite the difficult subject matter. It helps that Offutt writes a hell of a sentence, crafting with them a tale of obsession, melancholy, and forgiveness that’s equal parts insightful and heartbreaking. A hell of a read.

DUNE by Frank Herbert

A mesmerizing reading experience through and through. What really drew me in was the writing, which I found to be the complete opposite of its reputation for being dense and dry. “Organic” was the word that kept coming to mind. This book felt like a living, breathing thing. It helped that Herbert’s world-building was downright virtuosic—the sheer scope of the thing is truly staggering, and I was captivated throughout its countless psychedelic pages. 

Also, once again: big worms!

TRIGGER MORTIS by Anthony Horowitz

While I genuinely adore Ian Fleming’s writing (in particular his exceptional eye for detail), I find Anthony Horowitz’s Bond books, in general, much better constructed. Which is probably a sacrilegious thing to say. But where Fleming was a brilliant stylist, Horowitz is a master craftsman. The man simply lives and breathes thrillers.

Enjoyed this one a little less than Forever and a Day, his first Bond outing, but found it brilliant all the same. Can’t wait to read his final 007 story.

MOONBOUND by Robin Sloan

I loved Moonbound in a way I haven’t loved a book since probably Becky Chambers’s A Psalm for the Wild-Built. Which is apt, seeing as how they’re both stories that are inherently optimistic about humanity and what the future holds in store for us. Despite my deep-rooted cynicism, stories about radical optimism always resonate with me in profound and lasting ways.⠀

This is also a story about stories, which have always been my favorite kind of stories. Sloan plays around with a lot of tropes and archetypes here, and the fun he has with it all is palpable and infectious.⠀

Also, this book has the literary equivalent of a cinematic needle-drop, and it is, without hyperbole, one of the raddest moments I’ve ever read.⠀

My favorite book of the year.

THE ANTHROPOCENE REVIEWED by John Green

That pesky radical optimism again (hi Dua Lipa was my top artist on Spotify Wrapped this year). John Green delivers a wonderful collection of essays reviewing the myriad ways humans have–for better or worse–made an impact on this planet–and then proceeds to rank them on a five-star scale. The premise may be slightly facetious, but Green never fails to consider his subjects in a thoughtful, measured, and inherently hopeful manner. ⠀

A humorous and heartfelt celebration of humanity, I give The Anthropocene Reviewed five out of five stars.⠀

DIAVOLA by Jennifer Thorne

My favorite Hallowe’en read not actually read during the Hallowe’en season. A Gothic and thoroughly modern ghost story that explores family dynamics in a more visceral and brutally honest manner than most high-brow contemporary novels. ⠀

I loved a lot of things about Diavola, but mainly I adored its Dumpster-fire protagonist, a veritable harbinger of chaos, and how the story proceeded to validate her nature rather than condemn it, making this an exceedingly fun and cathartic read.⠀

THE BLACK SLIDE by J.W. Ocker

There are few things I respect more than children’s horror novels that aren’t afraid to go dark and still remain full of heart. J.W. Ocker’s middle grade work is characterized by this trait, but he took it up a few considerable notches with The Black Slide, and it’s all the better for it. Harrowing, haunting, and heartfelt. More children’s horror like this, please. 

LUCY UNDYING by Kiersten White

My favorite Hallowe’en read actually read during the Hallowe’en season. I just loved the hell out of this. Very much a spiritual companion to Kiersten White’s previous novel, The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein. Lucy Undying is likewise gloriously Gothic, unreservedly feminist, and meandering in the most interesting, fascinating ways. A hell of a read.

I hope you all had a great year, and I hope the next one treats us well.

See you on the other side.

📖

OCTOBER 2024

~ Ricardo ~ Leave a comment

Hello. You know the books I read during the month of October because I did an individual review for every single one of them. Like a madman. But I also managed to read a bunch of short stories throughout the month, and I want to talk about them, too. So here we are. (Also it gives me an excuse to post a picture of a very satisfying pile of books. My gloriously garish Hallowe’en display.)

The books, in case you missed them: 

Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Lives by Patrick Horvath. Wonderful!

The Chronicles of Viktor Valentine by Z Brewer. Fine!

Clown in a Cornfield 3: The Church of Frendo by Adam Cesare. Disappointing!

The Black Slide by J.W. Ocker. Amazing!

Lucy Undying by Kiersten White. Glorious!

Stay Out of the Basement by R.L. Stine. Fun!

All Hallows by Christopher Golden. Great!

The short stories:

“Parthenogenesis” / “Wait for Night” by Stephen Graham Jones. Would you believe that these are the only things I’ve read by Jones? Neither can I. Really need to get on that. Anyway, “Parthenogenesis” was a fun story with a super creepy atmosphere, but I felt like the ending was a bit of a cop-out. “Wait for Night” was just a simple and super rad vampire tale. 

“A Stranger Knocks” by Tananarive Due. Didn’t realize this was a vampire story when I first picked it up, but I do love a serendipitous theme. Similar to the Jones situation, this is the first story I’ve read by Tananarive Due. Definitely need to pick up more of her stuff because this was excellent.

“The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe. My shameful secret that would surely get my goth card revoked if it ever got out is that I’ve barely read any of Poe’s actual work. “The Raven,” sure, the odd story here and there—but, like with most artists I admire, I’m far more interested in their cult of personality first and their work second. It’s something I’ve been gradually realizing is a serious disservice to said artists, so I’m working on fixing that. Anyway—this was brilliant, obviously. I read it in a collection called Darkness There, a Kindle in Motion affair that I’ve had on my tablet for years. It’s a neat concept, and features some wonderful art by M.S. Gorley, whose work—and name—evokes Edward Gorey’s (another cult of personality from my personal canon).

“Lantern Jack” by Christopher Fowler. More of a monologue than a proper short story—but it’s a damn good monologue, which made it a delight to read. Very cool, very clever, very macabre. Very into it. Read from The Mammoth Book of Halloween Stories.

“Everybody Is in the Place” by Emma J. Gibson. Some great atmosphere here, but I found the writing style seriously grating. There’s this constant repetition of words that I guess is supposed to evoke some sort of whimsicality (“We’re running, running, running!”) but it only comes across as awkward and annoying, particularly when it’s done so often in such a limited amount of space.

“A Forest, or A Tree” by Tegan Moore. Impeccable and creepy atmosphere throughout, along with some good character work. It’s too bad that it’s all undermined by an abrupt, hasty ending. As is the case with a lot of Tor.com Originals, this felt too much like the opening of a novel, rather than the closing chapter of one.

“The V*mpire” by P H Lee. This is a short story about Tumblr, of all things. It’s also a story about identity and community. And it’s a story about vampires. It should be a mess, by all accounts, but this was a surprisingly intense and impactful piece. Of course, it probably affected me more because Tumblr was such an integral, formative part of my 20s. I was too old to be part of the social circles depicted here, but I was certainly aware of them and can say that, for better or worse, their representation here is entirely accurate—from the compassion right down to the toxicity. This is also a story about how easily predators can exploit the openness of these often vulnerable communities by appropriating their particular language for their own malicious means. The vampires in this story may be fictional bloodsuckers, but that doesn’t make them any less real.

“Bone Fire” by Storm Constantine. Another one from The Mammoth Book of Halloween Stories. My notes for this story read, “A fae and dusky little story. This very much felt like what I imagine a huge bonfire on Samhain must have felt like.” I have absolutely no idea what that means, but let’s go with it. 

(I should note that I often write my notes immediately after I finish reading a story, so they are very much a first impression kind of thing. It also means that they are almost always nonsense. Alas.)

“The Folding Man” by Joe R. Lansdale. A truly outlandish mix between an odd urban legend and, like, The Terminator. Simple, straightforward, and at times seriously savage story. I was super into it. Read from The Mammoth Book of Halloween Stories.

“Ghastle and Yule” by Josh Malerman. Despite its name, this was not a creepy Christmas story as I originally expected. Instead, it’s a tale about two rival horror filmmakers and their obsessions with both their craft and with one another. I enjoyed it a lot. The writing does leave a lot to be desired, at times—there’s more than a fair share of clunky, awkwardly phrased sentences—but the story itself is fascinating enough that I can easily forgive those shortcomings. I’ve always loved stories about film productions, particularly of the Old Hollywood and Mid-Century eras. This skews heavily towards the latter half of the fifties and early sixties, but it hit all the right notes for me. I was particularly impressed with Malerman’s world-building, which is so thorough and convincing that I found myself Googling the names of the characters and some of the film titles to see if they were real. Intriguing, morbid, and a lot of fun.

“The Ultimate Halloween Party App” by Lisa Morton. This one has a great and pretty terrifying premise, but it ultimately didn’t do much for me. The world-building felt cobbled together from interesting but half-formed ideas that never really meshed well. The ending, in particular, felt like a huge non-sequitur—as if the author got bored with her own story. Very baffling. Read from The Mammoth Book of Halloween Stories.

And finally, one book I did not do an individual review for, because I’ve written about it more than enough times: 

Pumpkinheads by Rainbow Rowell, Faith Erin Hicks. A seasonal staple, obviously. I used to pick this one up at the very beginning of October but have since realized that it’s actually the perfect transitional read, being set on the last day of the month and all about endings and new beginnings. It literally concludes with the characters talking about taking up seasonal jobs during the holidays. Which brings me, once again, to ask Rowell and Hicks for a Christmas sequel to this beautiful book. Please. I beg. I implore.

And that’s another Hallowe’en season come and gone. I hope you all had a good one. I did, despite feeling at times as if I was forcing it a bit too much. (Really, is there anything more horrific than Life getting in the way of your enjoyment of frivolous things? I submit that there is not.) But in the end, I watched some fun movies, read some damn fine stories—even wrote one of my own—and I can’t ask for anything more than that.

LUCY UNDYING by Kiersten White

~ Ricardo ~ Leave a comment

Publisher’s summary: Her name was written in the pages of someone else’s story: Lucy Westenra was one of Dracula’s first victims.

But her death was only the beginning. Lucy rose from the grave a vampire and has spent her immortal life trying to escape from Dracula’s clutches—and trying to discover who she really is and what she truly wants.

Her undead life takes an unexpected turn in twenty-first-century London, when she meets another woman, Iris, who is also yearning to break free from her past. Iris’s family has built a health empire based on a sinister secret, and they’ll do anything to stay in power.

Lucy has long believed she would never love again. Yet she finds herself compelled by the charming Iris while Iris is equally mesmerized by the confident and glamorous Lucy. But their intense connection and blossoming love is threatened by outside forces. Iris’s mother won’t let go of her without a fight, and Lucy’s past still has fangs: Dracula is on the prowl once more.

Lucy Westenra has been a tragically murdered teen, a lonesome adventurer, and a fearsome hunter, but happiness has always eluded her. Can she find the strength to destroy Dracula once and for all, or will her heart once again be her undoing?

🎃

A handful of years ago, just as I started to become slightly obsessive with my Hallowe’en reading, I picked up Kiersten White’s The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein. I wanted something lofty to read—something Gothic and Romantic—and this retelling of Mary Shelley’s seminal tale seemed to serve the need. I was already planning to read about vampires anyway, so adding another classic monster into the mix felt like the appropriate thing to do. Elizabeth Frankenstein turned out to be a highlight read, not only of that spooky season but of the year as a whole. 

So when White announced she was planning to give the same sort of revisionist treatment to another horror classic, well, I couldn’t help but be excited, even if it was a few years down the line (writing: it takes time). It was well worth the wait, though, because I ended up loving the hell out of Lucy Undying, an elegantly Gothic, gloriously gay, and unapologetically feminist tome.

Like its predecessor, this is also very meandering—a veritable labyrinth of twists and turns that chances upon every conceivable emotion along the way. The winding, saturnine nature of the narrative will no doubt be a point of contention among some readers, as it does border on being exhausting and repetitive at times, but as someone who appreciates atmosphere above most things, I certainly don’t mind when a story takes the long, lugubrious way round in order to allow us to properly take in the sights and sentiments.

And what sights! The timeline and geography of this novel are truly epic in scale, taking us from London at the tail end of the Victorian age to Europe and Asia during the wars that shaped the twentieth century, and right up to North America and our current capitalist hellscape. White manages to cover all this ground and distinct eras while still maintaining an air of Gothic atmosphere, thanks largely to a protagonist who feels perpetually out of place.

Because that’s Lucy Westenra’s story in this rendition: a progressive young woman who holds unrequited feelings for a fellow female friend while living in a conservative, restrictive society during the turn of the century, who is then murdered and becomes, eventually, a revenant. Fate, it seems, has deemed Lucy an outsider in both life and in death. Until Iris comes along, another outcast who helps Lucy reclaim her narrative. 

We see much of this story through Lucy’s vivid eyes, but Iris is just as much a protagonist here, and an equally strong and fascinating presence. In fact, it’s through her that we get this novel’s most interesting conceit: by reading Lucy’s old diaries, she gleans insight that Lucy herself was never privy to. Having the perspective of a fellow misfit help the undead one see is as close to a central premise as this charmingly convoluted novel has.

While Elizabeth was largely a reimagining of Frankenstein, Lucy acts more like a proper sequel to Dracula, shedding new light on established characters and accounts. I’m not at all versed on scholarly studies of Stoker’s work, but I can’t imagine White’s interpretation of what Mina, Arthur and Dr. Seward were doing to the Westenra family is all that popular. It’s undoubtedly intriguing, however, and White tries her damnedest to prove her thesis here. It makes, if anything, for one hell of a yarn. One of my favorite reads this season.