Incarnate by Jodi Meadows, A She Said/She Said Review

Hi, Amethyst here. I'm taking lead for this round of She Said/She Said. Why? 'Cause I finished the book first, s'why. In fact, I finished Jodi Meadows's debut novel Incarnate about forty-five minutes ago. I purchased it yesterday, and to be fair, I did have a 70-page head start before I began reading last evening.

I'd say it's a fifty-fifty split as to how I'm finished with Incarnate; fifty per cent, I'm kind of a sprinter when I read, so if I like a book, I tend to like it in fast forward, and secondly, Jodi's novel accomplishes earning both the descriptions "light" and "full. On the one hand, Jodi has an almost unconscious stream-of-conscious (say that five times fast) charm. Knowing her outside of the author/reviewer format, I can tell you, Jodi's bouncy enthusiasm and kitten-like perplexity shine right through, even in main character Ana's most wrought moments. On the other hand, I never got the feeling Jodi didn't respect the gravity of the sometimes monstrous events taking place in Ana's life, and her world. Even with the subtle touch uncertanties were uncertain, fears were fearful, and warm fuzzies were dandelions poofs at the height of summer.

What did I like best? The Almosts. The almost kisses. The almost weepings. The questions almost answered. I love the way Jodi managed to make me (metaphorically) lean forward so far out of my seat I ALMOST fell out of it, and yet, never once did I actually face plant into the carpet. There was that subtle grace again, the grace of almost.

What didn't I like? Yes, as much as I enjoyed Incarnate, I do have one or two gripes. First of all, the math of things was confusing. I'm no stranger to math confusing me, but even I generally get the gist within real applications such as generations and ages. Even for a necessarily convoluted (and very cool) concept, the numbers seemed to contradict each other more than they lined up. Maybe because I was reading too fast? I wanted a clearer explanation of the term "quindec" than what I gleaned from context clues. Also, early on in the book I was under the impression people had only been around for about a thousand years, but later it's stated they'd been living and turning through the revolving door of reincarnation for at least five millenia, not one. Trying to get the two things to agree in my head was a bit of a draw out.

My other gripe is a lack of Author Photo. Jodi's really cute. The world deserves to get to Awwww over the cute that is Jodi Meadows.

Last but not least, it should be mentioned, I read a copy of Incarnate I purchased, so it was as polished as need be. Michelle, lucky early bird, was blessed to have been granted an e-ARC, compliments of NetGalley. This means her copy may have been slightly different than mine, and therefor might (or might not!) reflect in her review (which I have not yet seen).

I bought the book, so I think that's a pretty clear Buy, right?

The Emperor's Knife

There's a crazy, swervy border between subtle and vague writing, and it takes quite a bit of education and error before one lands on the desired side of it. In my opinion, Mazarkis Williams has pulled it off with the novel, The Emperor's Knife. 


While I don't mean to imply Williams plays it safe throughout the book--many bold moves and slightly-uncomfortable moments are to be had--the story plays out as a clear starter installment without falling prey to thinness or complete translucence. Or in less fancy terms, even though you go in knowing this book is the beginning in a series, and everything has that clear "set up for what's next" feel, it's still incredibly satisfying. Like a really good appetizer, or a small cup of loaded potato soup, the world-building comes across rich, intriguing, and what losses are to be had strike at the heart, despite so little (comparatively) time to become connected to all the characters individually.

I hesitate to summarize the book as being a sort of The Girl of Fire and Thorns for boys, because A). GFT appeals to boys too, and is not girl-liked-exclusive, and I think the exact reverse of Knife: it might *trend* more toward a male reader, but it will still have great appeal for female readers.

All that being said, here's the skinny: Take a well-done bit of Prince of Persia (yes, the video game, and no, I don't mean the movie, which was pretty, but not much else), some of  Tamora Pierce's awesome everything-development, wrap it in a nice, warm, Piers Anthony Adept Series, and add a Juliet Marillier pillow, and you're rocking out a pretty crafty "prophesied overthrowing of a corrupt monarchy" story, set in desert-ish lands, with sentient glyphs, evil spirits, and a sheltered kid brother heir.

I was lucky enough to get my eyeballs on an eARC through Netgalley, but I'd--*thinks*--yeah, I'd endorse a Buy on this one.

Cry Wolf

★★★★

Cry Wolf by Angela Campbell

Sorry, no rippling teen werewolf abs or sparklepire foes in this tale. Just a good old-fashioned story of a reporter out to debunk an urban legend.

I love that a modern story involving a werewolf can be categorized as a contemporary realistic book. Realism FTW! I'm so ready for the paranormal phase to be over and get back to the good old-fashioned ghost, monster, and urban legend stories. I prefer to outrun scary creatures, not date them.

Before getting to the heart of the review, I do have one confession to make*: I have a large weakness for stories involving reporters and/or editors from small-town newspapers, or from big papers sent to small towns. It has to do with some of my college-hood dreams. I majored in journalism, later working as a reporter and then an editor at a large metropolitan newspaper. Honestly, I'm still a reporter at heart. Even now I get all squiggly inside thinking about how much fun it'd be to spend a few years working at a small-town newspaper.** 

So when I saw that Cry Wolf incorporated a) a big-city reporter coming to a small-town to investigate an b) urban myth in the form of a werewolf, with a c) romance likely to develop, I was a goner. Absolutely perfect.

That said, it was a nice story on the merits of the writing and characters as well. I'll admit I don't have many nitpicks, but probably more so because I got lost in the story. Which, honestly, should be the goal of every writer. 

It's a fun read, with a romance that feels rather realistic (including sexy bits, if you're at all concerned about that), and a kitten. How could it not be good when there's a rescued kitten? I don't think it's possible. 

Joking aside, I liked this book. Four stars to the author for an enjoyable ride. I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys light, fun romances with a touch of mystery.

*I mention this now because there is a very good possibility that other books of this nature will cross the pages of this blog, and fairly soon. There are a couple of them winking at me from my TBR pile. Those little minxes.

**It'll have to be a small one since most of the big ones are going kaput. Or being handed over to untrained bloggers, but I won't get into that. *tries not to grumble*

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for a review copy!

The Composer Is Dead

★★★★★★★*

The Composer Is Dead by Lemony Snicket

The moment I saw Lemony Snicket's name on the cover of The Composer Is Dead at the library the other day, I knew I had to read it. I knew it would be funny; what I wasn't expecting was this musical masterpiece.

The story is somewhat basic: a composer has been murdered, and the detective must sound out the man, er, instrument who committed the crime. The text, however, isn't what makes this book so amazing.

This isn't just a picture book, nor is it just an audio book or just a soundtrack; it is an experience. The book is funny enough on its own, but play the accompanying cd with soundtrack, and it's even greater. The experience, however, doesn't reach fever pitch until you add in Snicket's exceptional narration (also included on the cd).

Daniel Handler, the man behind the Snicket, must have played in an orchestra at some point in his life. It's the only way to explain how all of the humor in The Composer Is Dead is spot on.

While marketed as a children's picture book, young children won't get most of the jokes. Instead, the musically inclined adult reading (or listening) to the book will be laughing to the point of hyperventilating. 

Don't believe me? See the book trailer, below, which demonstrates a bit of what I'm talking about.

I played this book for my stepmom, a concert cellist cum cello instructor. She laughed and nodded at all the jokes and one-liners, and then immediately went out to purchase a copy to share with her students.

I highly recommend this book as a gift for the music major/orchestra teacher/flautist in your life. If they've played in an orchestra, even just in high school, they will be rolling by the time the experience ends. Then buy a copy for yourself.

*Because this book deserves much more than 5 stars.

Museum of Thieves

Lian Tanner's Museum of Thieves presents as a very good starter book for readers who have a new-found interestin  alternate universe sorts of books, and falls in with some very good company, such as Brandon Mull's new Beyonders series, and Du Prau's City of Ember (which, as is often the case, is better than the film based upong it, despite Soairse Ronan's great performance), and even to a lighter degree, Nix's Keys to the Kingdom series.

Living in a world where anything even remotely risky (dog germs, anyone?) is disallowed and removed, and children are--literally--chained to adults at all time to prevent accidents, Goldie ends up unfettered and recruited to become the fifth keeper at The Museum of Dunt. Only the phrase 'the museum' turns out to be interchangeable with 'building in which several actual realities exist, all of which are prone to shifting about and bulging at the seams when they get themselves in a snit".

A snit is exactly what the museum gets into when the ambitious Fugleman plots to  overthrow his sister, The Protectorate, for rule over the city of Jewel, and sends in his lackeys, The Blessed Guardians (who, incidently, are the tyrannical imperialists over all the chained children during regular business hours) to nail down all the rooms in the museum.

It's up to Goldie and the other Keepers (tall, smooth Sinew; grandmotherly gypsy-like Olga Cyavolga; hulking Herro Dan; and shape-shifting brizzlehound, Broo) to thwart the Fugleman and calm down the musuem enough that all of life's atrocities don't come spilling through the walls into Jewel, threatening life and limb of every being therein.  But can they do it without unleashing something just as bad, or worse?

I did happen to BUY this one, and at nine bucks for the paperback copy, I'm perfect content with that choice. I'll read the follow-up books, no doubt.

Hourglass

I absolutely adore the cover of Myra McEntire's debut novel, Hourglass. Not only does it have lovely, smooth lines, but for a little while it fools you into thinking the model is being sucked into something . . . and then you realize it's actually a girl, standing on the wall, with gravity obeying its natural course. Go 'head, turn it on the side, and then try to decide what photo magic they used to pull that one off. Photoshop? Wires? Giant wind machine? TIME TRAVEL?

Oh, right; that's what the book's about. Or more accurately, things of the past visiting a quite present Emerson Cole. Or maybe they're ghosts? Maybe Em's psychic and sees dead people? Whatever the answer, the situation is trippy.

Enter the uber-hot Michael (such a popular name for uber-hot characters). Tell us what he wants, what he really, really wants. What's he need, that Michael boy? History rewritten, that's what. Also? Em, because they are science-fictionally two halves of one whole. But do they belong together? Maybe. Maybe not. Because, you see, there's someone else in Emerson's future . . . 

The cover blurbs suggest the book induces all sorts of mood swings in the reader, and this is true, especially in the final fifty pages. Even I, a "first hero met should get the girl" loyalist, don't completely root for one boy over the other by much. Even I can see the wisdom and merit of a specific someone else winning that war, other than Michael. McEntire has done a fantastic job forcing me to consider the alternative, without embittering me toward it. That takes some mad skills, to sway a girl like me. I can only admire it and hope to learn from it.

I say this with a bit of a admission: Hourglass is a book . . . how to put this? Well, sometimes I felt myself reading a scene or a bit of narrative and feeling either proud or a little wary, because it's written so much like I myself would have written it. So that may mean I'm biased when I say I think either a Buy or Borrow appropriate.  The book isn't the most prime example of fantastic writing ever known to man, but it's entertaining, an emotional rush, and leaves you thinking about it hours later, which means it delivers on exactly what it promises.

The Restorer

★★★¾

The Restorer by Amanda Stevens

As I've mentioned before, I'm a sucker for a good ghost story, even when it scares the schnikeys out of me.  The Restorer is one of those creepily good stories that goes for the perfect chilling factor.

Book one in the Graveyard Queen series (doesn't that just sound so awesome?) introduces us to Amelia Gray, a cemetery restorer who sees ghosts. These aren't Casper-friendly ghosts, either. These are scary, wet-the-bed nightmarish ghosts, so Amelia has held to her father's edict to never let ghosts know she can see them. She's done a good job—until now.

How could a ghost story get even better? Add in genteel Southerns entrenched in secret societies and sacrificial murders, plus a handsome potential love interest with a mysterious past, and you've got a realistically fright-worthy read.

While this book is published by Harlequin, it focuses more on the mystery than the romance, which I really appreciated in this story. I'm definitely looking forward to the sequel.

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an advance copy.

Tethered

There are few books that have done to me what Amy MacKinnon's Tethered has done, which is to take me through a solid, somber tale, leading in a very certain direction and with an expected pleasurable conclusion and then blow it all to hell in the last five pages.

What I thought was going on? Not even. Going back and checking details against what really was happening? Makes TOTAL sense. All of it. A retro "ah-HAH!" moment, or rather, a barage of them, because it was great, and it all fit together like a thousand-piece jig-saw.

And I can't even tell you anything specific about the brilliance, because as River Song would say, "Spoilers!" I suppose I'll need to keep it simple, then.

The narrative--from the perspective of Clara, a withdrawn, somewhat broken undertaker--has a quiet, steady pace, calming even with the often disturbing subject matter. It isn't that Clara regards these things with any sense of flippancy, rather the opposite; her ability to process grief is so underdeveloped it's as if tragedy slides right off of her, until a certain little girl gets under Clara's skin and Clara becomes concerned with the child's home life.

Before it's all over, just about every (living) person in Clara's life is somehow connected to the young girl's circumstances: The compassionate couple who run the funeral home where Clara works, and who consider Clara their child; the older detective assigned to the little girl's case; the younger officer eager to help solve it; and not a few of the former residents of the bodies Clara works on.

Maybe I should have paid closer attention when I put a hold on Tethered with my library, because the novel is labelled "suspense", which might have given me some better idea of what was coming, but then again, maybe not. All I can say about it was that it was awesome.

So, do I recommend you buy Tethered or do I suggest you just borrow it? Well, that depends. How much do you love suspense novels? Are you the kind of reader who appreciates the craftsmanship in a good mystery enough to read it again, even after the mystery is solved, or not? If so, BUY, if not, BORROW. Either way I expect you'll enjoy yourself.

Moon Called: Book One in the Mercy Thompson Series

In short-short, I liked Patricia Briggs's Moon Called. It wasn't my favorite book ever, but it was solid and satisfying, with enough character voice and surprises to keep me happy with the end result, especially for a clear series starter.

I had one nit-pick with it as far as yanking me out of the story, and that was the use and lack of use of contractions in various places. I know, that sounds stupid, but when a reader expects a character to say "I'm" rather than "I am" it gets kind of stumbly.

For a plus point, I particularly liked main character Mercy's pace with revealing information and in explaining her own logistical conclusions.

All-in-all, I give this book a strong Borrow, a Buy if you're really, really into contemporary supernaturals.

On a shallow note, a peeve and praise for the cover designers.

First, the peeve. What mechanic worth her grease would wear her work shirt a). unbuttoned and tied up that way, and b). with a push-up bra? I cannot suspend belief enough to think this covergirl mechanic seriously thinks she'll draw in business this way, even from skeevy rich dudes. Skeevy rich dudes go to strip clubs to see girls in knotted, push-up bra-ed outfits, not garages. Mercy's not stupid; she'd dressed professionally, but for functionality, and so her customers see her as a competent business woman.

However! Kudos to the person who sized and placed the endorsement blurb by Charlaine Harris. It's noticeable without detracting from the cover image, title, or author. That's tasteful and I applaud your class with that issue, Unknown Cover Person.

I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have To Kill You

Now, for the sake of full disclosure (I disclose stuff all the time; be prepared), Gilmore Girls and Veronica Mars are my two all-time favorite grown-up TV shows (I like a lot of kids' shows, too. *shrugs*), and to realize moments after finishing I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You by Ally Carter that the whole book is one possible answer to the question, "What would happen if you enrolled a gonvernment-funded Veronica Mars in Chilton, the private school in Stars Hollow, fictional home of Lorelai and Rory Gilmore?", well, whoa.

Yes, yes, that was a really long, awkward, badly-written sentence. Don't care. I wasn't actually awake when I composed it.

Point is, I thoroughly enjoyed the first of Carter's Gallagher Girls novels. I dug the well-balanced aspects of narrator Cammie's real life with that of her cover life. On the one hand, the kind of life we normal peeps live is about as alien to Cammie "The Chameleon" Morgan, only daughter of a super-spy and the headmistress of Cammie's own seriously serious spy school for genius girls, as being a girl genius super-spy-in-training would be to us. Which is to say, mucho Vulcan.

Another great balance? Flippancy vs. solemnity. Some pages are devoted to silly, girly angst of the "I speak fourteen languages and not a single one of them translates to BOY!" and homework vareties, while other pages deal with heartache over lost loved ones, fear of incompetence (as all three, spy, friend, and girlfriend), and finding redeeming qualities in a new enemy. The great thing? Carter blends these themes seamlessly. The fluff is marshmallowy, deep stuff is satisfyingly subcutaneous.

Also, a Brownie Point for mentioning Gilmore Girls, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Dirty Dancing. Though, to be perfectly fair, I thought two mentions of Buffy =ed cool; three . . . enh, kind of pushing it.

So, the short version, if you're into anything like the shows mentioned above, or like a read that treads the worlds of fluffy AND textured, BUY this one.

Chime

Chime by Franny Billingsley is one of the most gorgeous books I've read in a long while, and yes, the cover is gorgeous too, but when I picked up the book from my library, I really didn't think a novel with such a glammed-up, confidently-posed covergirl would have the kind of depth this book has.

Boy, how was I wrong! The narrator, Briony, tells the story of herself, her father, her addled twin sister (Rose), her late step-mother, the new boy in town, and to top it all off, the very real swamp bogies in their backwoods, turn-of-the-century English villiage (in fact, kind of think of Shamalyan's The Village). Briony's voice has a wonderful point and counter-point to it, using rich language, but in a stark, staccato rhythm I found absolutely wonderful. This voice matches the way Briony views herself, on one hand gifted with Second Sight, while loathing herself for her selfishness and desire to break free of her responsibilities. 

I can't properly describe how  the adjective "flat" can be desirable or even complimentary, so you'll totally have to go BUY this book to see what I mean.