Book: On Mystic Lake

“Annie Colwater’s husband has just confessed that he’s in love with a younger woman. Devastated, Annie retreats to the small town where she grew up. There, she is reunited with her first love, Nick Delacroix, a recent widower who is unable to cope with his silent, emotionally scarred young daughter. Together, the three of them begin to heal. But just when Annie believes she’s been given a second chance at happiness, her world is turned upside down again, and she is forced to make a choice that no woman in love should ever have to make…“

I’ve been meaning to reread this book for a good long while now. And when you’re speed reading through a book you’ve already read, and you still manage to tear up–you know that what you have in your hands is a great story about love.

Thing is, much as the write-up makes it sound like a love story, what really drew me to this novel the first time (and again, the second time around) was that it was Annie’s love story with herself.

The book doesn’t spend a long time setting things up. From the get go, we see Annie losing a hold of the life she had lead for the last twenty years. And then we get glimpses of who she used to be before those twenty years. And then, the changes happen.

I really like how Kristin Hannah weaves Annie’s story. You see, Annie is a door mat. She likes to take care of people, without letting them take care of her. Without demanding that she be taken care of. Without complaint. And for the entirety of the novel, this doesn’t change. It’s who she is.

And yet, as the novel develops, you can see the changes in Annie. The choices she make in taking care of herself even while taking care of people… On Mystic Lake is the story of how Annie rediscovers who she is–without changing who she fundamentally is.

Of course there is change. Of course, by the end of the novel, Annie makes a grand romantic gesture. But nothing feels out of place.

I’ve read a few Kristin Hannah novels, and she’s one of my favorite romance writers. (Yes, I’m a guy who can enjoy chic-lit.) And that’s because Kristin Hannah knows her characters. And characters, more than plot twists, are what makes a good story great.

Book: Flesh & Bone

“Benny Imura and his friends are reeling from the tragic events of Wawona and the second Gameland, but there’s no time to stop and mourn fallen comrades. Survival in the great Rot and Ruin requires movement, and so, with heavy hearts, Benny, Nix, Lilah, and Chong continue their quest to find the jet they saw in the skies months ago. If that jet exists, then humanity itself must have survived…somewhere. Finding it is their best hope for having a future and a life worth living.

But the Ruin is far more dangerous than any of them can imagine. The zoms seem to be mutating in terrifying ways that could change everything Benny and his friends know about surviving among the walking dead. And even worse, a death cult has arisen that is gathering new followers at a frightening rate and is devoted to sending every living person in the Rot and Ruin into the waiting arms of death.“

I loved it. Absolutely loved it. Which makes me happy after being dismayed by The Mark of Athena, which was supposed to be my happy read of the week. Thank goodness for Flesh & Bone then.

Jonathan Maberry is at it again with the third book from his Rot & Ruin series–the zombie story that doesn’t just scare you, but is also out to make you cry. And this book, while not as heartbreaking as the second book, will still make you… what’s the word? Feel like a friggin’ crybaby.

Now, I don’t know what it is about Maberry’s writing, but I love how he makes his readers feel the threat against all his characters. There is an actual fear for the characters you will most certainly love as you read on. As his characters confront death in different ways, you know that any which one of them is in actual danger of dying. Because Maberry doesn’t shy from killing off beloved characters.

Kinda like Joss Whedon.

But more than that, I think, it’s because Maberry was able to convince us readers of the actual dangers that the Rot and Ruin has in store for anyone and everyone.

I have to admit, compared to the first two books of the series, Flesh & Bone is the one with the least amount of character growth. Maybe it’s because the events of the book happen in a span of two days (less, actually), with a time jump at the end. Maybe it’s because we’ve already known the main characters we’re following for a couple of years now. Or it could be because most of the book is exposition, which set-ups the next book.

The intensity of the writing though, and the feel of imminent danger, completely makes up for it.

That’s not to say that Flesh & Bone is all action, all the time. It’s not. The theme of the book is actually grief, and the many ways people deal with this. But Maberry was able to infuse each chapter, each scene–each line of dialogue, with the foreboding sense of coming death that you don’t feel any lull in the action.

There’s a surge of adrenaline in every word you read. And I loved it.

It would be a disservice to the book though if I don’t mention how, even in the fast-paced events, Maberry doesn’t forget what makes his zombie stories special: the characters.

I already said that this book has the least amount of character growth. That’s not to say there’s none, because there is. Except, the previous books have already laid down the groundwork for these growths. Nothing comes out left of field, everything feels like they’re the natural progression of things.

My only gripe about the book is that it ended too soon.

And that there’s no release date for the next one yet. That the next one isn’t out yet.

I can’t wait for the next book–just like the following bloggers who loved the book as much as I did:
Christy’s Love of Books
Elitist Book Review
A Librarian’s Take

Book: A Monster Calls

“The monster showed up after midnight. As they do.

But it isn’t the monster Conor’s been expecting. He’s been expecting the one from his nightmare, the one he’s had nearly every night since his mother started her treatments, the one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming…

This monster is something different, though. Something ancient, something wild. And it wants the most dangerous thing of all from Conor.

It wants the truth.“

I didn’t really know what to expect when I picked up A Monster Calls. A few friends recommended it to me, and I was a little ambivalent when I read the synopsis. It didn’t speak to me. But when I stumbled across the edition I found, this beautifully illustrated version by Walker Books, I knew I was buying the book. If only for the really beautiful illustrations.

But when I read the book, I fell in love with it.

Conor, the main character, is flawed. And that makes him, for me, a great character. He is a great character study on human beings. This is a child fashioned by the everyday life, shaped by external forces beyond his control, and choices that were his to make. Choices that, we find out as the story goes along, are colored by what he was taught–by the beliefs instilled in him.

Choices that the monster wants Conor to face.

Our main character doesn’t have an easy life. And I really like how author Patrick Ness doesn’t make Conor the typical flawed protagonists who has a naturally good heart. As I said before, Conor is flawed. And that’s what makes me relate more to him than other characters I’ve read, who are going through the same things he is in this book. And that’s what makes the book’s end all the more heartbreaking. Because by the time the book ends, we become Conor.

A Monster Calls tells the story of Conor, but more than that, it tells the story of us. Humans doing human things, feeling human emotions–being human. And being monsters.

This is definitely one of the best books I’ve read in 2012, and I’m very grateful for the friends who recommended this to me. Now, I shall be doing other friends favors by recommending this book to them.

Before I do that though, let us read a few reviews from book blogs across the ‘net:
There’s a Book
The Book Smugglers
Dog-Eared

Book: Cleo

“Cleo is an uplifting book about love, loss and redemption. It’s also a book about a small black feline who helped bring a family even closer together by sheer force of her cat personality.“

The last book I’ve read that had anything to do with pets was Katie: Up and Down the Hall. I remember writing something about the book not being so much about Katie than it was about the author and the family he made with his neighbors. And, I have to admit, that made me think twice about starting Cleo.

Thing is, I already bought Cleo before I started reading Katie. And it never came to second-guessing my purchase, only wondering when I would eventually get around to reading it. Well, the Holy Week vacation (we have such a thing here in the Philippines) gave me the time I was looking for, and I have to say I really didn’t have much to fear with Cleo.

The thing with books about pets is that it’s almost never really about the pets. I mean, I found Marley & Me good, and Katie not so good. Cleo, falls somewhere in between the two—but as I went on to finish the book, it moved towards the good end.

Cleo, the book, is much about Cleo the pet as it was about the author’s life. After all, the book’s selling point is how Cleo (the cat) helped heal the author and the people in her life. So it would make sense that many of the anecdotes actually have more to do with the author’s family than just Cleo. And unlike in Katie, where I thought the pet was a storyline moving alongside the author’s life, Cleo actually has a major playing part in her owner’s life.

The book starts with death. One I didn’t expect. The author alluded to it in how she introduced the book, and how she talked about her sons—but, if this were a fictional story, the death was a twist, a blindside. I was surprised; horrified even, by what had happened. But as it is, death was just the beginning—and the beginning was jumpstarted by the appearance of Cleo in the author’s and her family’s lives.

That was a very oddly-constructed sentence.

Throughout the book, we follow the author as she goes through the rollercoaster of life: the loss of a child, raising two others, working to save a marriage, and eventually falling in love again. One can say Helen Brown, the author, has lived a life with enough heartache to spare half-a-dozen people from having to go through the same—but that’s life, isn’t it? It’s never fair. But through it all, the author had one constant companion who never bothered to feel sorry for her, but was always there to listen, to cheer her up, and to tell her to move on: and that was Cleo.

On the book cover, it says that Cleo is the next Marley & Me; I think that’s doing the book a disservice. Cleo is a great book by itself, and it doesn’t need to be compared to any other books. And having finished the book, all I can say is that I wish to find a cat just like Cleo.

Find out what other people have written about the book:
The Conscious Cat
Reviews by Lola
Good Reads

Television: Doctor Who and the Curse of the Black Spot

“The TARDIS is marooned onboard a 17th-century pirate ship whose crew is being attacked by a mysterious and beautiful sea creature. Becalmed and beset by cabin fever, the pirates have numerous superstitious explanations for the Siren’s appearance. The Doctor has other ideas but, as his theories are disproved and every plan of escape is thwarted, he must work to win the trust of the implacable Captain Avery and uncover the truth behind the pirates’ supernatural fears – and he must work quickly, for some of his friends have already fallen under the Siren’s spell…“

After the dark two-part series opener, Doctor Who goes a bit light with its third episode, The Curse of the Black Spot. Thing is, it might be light in tone and material, but the whole episode is quite literally dark.

The whole episode is set on board a pirate ship. And, I don’t know about you, but after the fantastic locations of The Impossible Astronaut and Day of the Moon, I thought it was a bit constraining. I guess I’ve gotten used to the wide expanses of land we saw in the first two episodes. But this is what Doctor Who is usually like–limited locations and fantastic storytelling.

Except, I really felt as if this episode was just a filler. I mean, it was still an exciting adventure. Pirates! A curse! A siren! It has all the makings of a really cool Doctor Who story! And yet I felt a bit disconnected from all the characters. I thought it didn’t really move the story along, which is the same thing I felt back in Series 5′s The Beast Below. The only exception? The Beast Below had that really terrifying Smilers. The Curse of the Black Spot‘s monster, the Siren, pales in comparison.

At the end of the episode, the Doctor’s relationship with Amy and Rory ends on the same note as it did in Day of the Moon. And it’s the same thing on the side of Amy and Rory. I even felt that the relationship between Amy and Rory was let to devolve for the sake of a few laughs. But it still went to the same “I’m in love with you” place that it did in the last episode.

The one thing that really didn’t sit well with me is the endangerment of Rory’s life. The first time we saw Rory dead, not counting Amy’s Choice, it was a really powerful scene that changed the relationship of the Doctor with Amy. That scene’s emotions carried through the episodes that followed–until the reveal in The Pandorica Opens where we find Rory alive. Well, technically, not alive–but he was there. And then last week, we saw him getting shot. And now he drowns?

It’s desensitizing. I mean, I understand that an episode needs its thrills and emotional impact. But using the “he’s dying!” card so soon after having used it in Day of the Moon kind of takes the impact away from the actual dying. It’s taken out the meaning of the thing.

There are shows that do this well though, like Supernatural. Even though it’s become of an in-joke that the two brothers keep dying and coming back alive, each time still has an emotional impact because it doesn’t happen in every episode. Each death is still an event.

Not that I’m saying Rory’s ‘death’ in The Curse of the Black Spot wasn’t an event. It was. For all its two minutes. I mean, I’d seriously be saddened if Rory was killed off the show as he has become my favorite companion since the series reboot.

All I want to say is: can they stop killing Rory (or Amy, for that matter) just so we can have a big emotional scene? Please? Though, I guess this plea wouldn’t really help as they’re already filming the finale.

Next week’s Gaiman-penned episode The Doctor’s Wife puts everyone’s life in peril once again. Here’s to hoping we don’t get any more fake deaths.