In the years 1899 to 1900, Irish Scientist Maude Delap studied the compass Jellyfish. Maude was so thorough in her research she actually traced the jellyfish’s entire lifecycle. This picture book not only has THE MOST charming illustrations of the jellyfish, it also possess illustration of Maude in her laboratory looking through microscopes and her drawing in her lab book.
Maude’s research was so thorough, it serves as a basis for jellyfish research today.
This book serves as a wonderful addition to any STEM study. I will also serve as an inspiration for any young scientist to muck about in their environment and observe life around them
thank you to Charlesbridge and Netgalley for the copy.
This book is, itself, magical for several reasons. First, it is a charming story based on a Latvian folktale. King Kraukis is feeling lonely. He’s got his children with him, Prince Koku, Prince Balt, and Princess Sofija, but he is still feeling lonely. You see, his castle seems to be too far away for anyone to visit, so he is lonely. But then Princess Sofija has the best of ideas; she tells her father about the Magical Wonderful Bul Bul Bird, and if they had this bird, people would come from far and wide to see its beauty. The eldest prince is determined to find the bird and bring it back, but when he doesn’t return, the second prince vows to find his brother and bring the bird back himself. But when the second brother doesn’t return, the “prudent” princess Sofija goes (something she had wanted to do all along, but was dismayed to find she is a girl). Does she find her brothers? Is the Bul Bul bird dangerous? Will the princess return to her father alive?
The second reason this book is magical, at least for me, is its absolutely charming vocabulary. In particular, it uses complex words that children will enjoy pronouncing and learning, such as “prudent, azure, sovereign, boombosity, pompous, imperious.” This delight in language is why I love it when children’s books include challenging yet fun vocabulary.
And the third is the illustrations. The artist Rob Bridges’ illustrations remind me of the old pictures you’d find in fairytale books, intricate, odd, fantastical and sometimes a little creepy!
This book is a special addition to any children’s library.
Thank you to Netgalley and 4U2B Books and MediaFor the copy
I absolutely love reading epistolary novels. They make me want to write letters again. Real letters. We live in such an “instant” time where, at the click of a button, we can communicate with no pondering, no pause to clarify our thoughts, no attempt to communicate not just effectively but beautifully.
Years ago, I was lucky enough to read letters my grandfather wrote to a young woman who would just happen to become my grandmother. They were simple but heartfelt, and I truly felt like I got to know a grandfather I had never met, a man who existed before he was ever a “grandfather” to me. I think we have become a people where, unless we feel we have something important or riveting to say, we say nothing at all. And yet what we should be doing, what people like my grandfather, did so naturally in the past, is simply share the simplicity of their everyday lives. Little things: the simple goings-on of the day, what you ate for dinner, what books you’re reading, or something as unassuming as the weather.
I lived in Glasgow for a portion of a year, many, many years ago, back when the only internet you could access was at the local internet café where I had pay by the hour. So I wrote letters the old fashioned way to everyone and anyone in my address book: old university friends, my little nieces who were too young to read, previous colleagues, just to tell them about my everyday life living in Scotland. And I received a plethora of mail in return, sometimes twice a day (the Royal Mail was absolutely magnificent). It is a practice I miss deeply.
All this to say: I absolutely loved The Correspondent.
Our main character is 73-year-old Sybil Van Antwerp, a retired law clerk for a celebrated judge. Sybil has always written letters, first to her best friend Rosalie, whom she met at summer camp as a young girl, and eventually to an ever-growing constellation of recipients: her brother Felix, living in France; her children; her neighbour Mr. Lubeck; various authors she admired, among them Joan Didion and Ann Patchett; a university dean; and others. Her mailing list expands across a lifetime, and we come to understand not only her ritual for letter-writing (she has specific days and times set aside, and spends about an hour crafting each letter, a discipline we learn about through her friendship with a young student who becomes enchanted by the practice) but her motivation as well.
Woven through the novel is something more tender and more sorrowful: through letters, we learn that Sybil is losing her eyesight, and we come to know the heartbreak and tragedy that has quietly shaped her life. And throughout all of her correspondence Sybil has been writing to someone she never names. In these letters, we meet a different Sybil entirely, unguarded, reflective, sharing her most personal feelings and regrets. These letters are written never to be sent.
The Correspondent is a beautifully crafted love letter to the art of letter-writing itself. It is also a novel about identity and grief, and the preciousness of relationships and the ways we choose, or fail, to communicate across a life. By the end, I desperately wanted to receive a letter from Sybil myself. It is a quick read, and an easy one to fall into and stay until finished.
Set in 1950s Florida, The Reformatory follows twelve-year-old Robbie Stephens, who is sent to the segregated Gracetown School for Boys after defending his sister Gloria from the unwanted advances of Lyle McCormick. But Robbie’s sentencing isn’t just punishment for that act. It’s a trap. His father, Robert Stephens, is a Black man falsely accused of raping a white woman who has fled to Chicago. A union organizer with enemies in powerful places, Robert is being lured back through the incarceration of his own son.
We soon learn that Robbie is spirit sensitive. He sees ghosts, or “haints,” and this gift is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he feels the presence of his mother, a comfort that helps him endure the atrocities he faces. A curse because he also sees the ghosts of boys who came before him, those who died violently at the hands of the evil, psychopathic Warden Haddock, by fire, by beating, by every manner of physical and emotional harm imaginable, all desperate to avoid being sent to the “Shed.”
Meanwhile, Gloria is fighting on the outside to secure the legal help her brother desperately needs. Alongside Ms. Lottie, the woman tasked with caring for Robbie and Gloria after the death of their mother and a Warrior Queen if there ever was one, she races to get Robbie released before it’s too late.
The Reformatory is classified as a literary, historical, and horror novel. And while you might assume the horror comes from its supernatural elements, make no mistake. The true horror here is entirely human. It is the vile and calculated evil of those who use their power to torture children and discriminate against people whose skin is a different colour than their own. The ghosts are almost beside the point.
Trigger warnings: physical and sexual abuse, blood and violence.
Rowen Sterling is the daughter of worm farmers. You would think worm farming would be a rather mundane, banal job but unfortunately Rowen has had her share of trauma, not only did her mother die a violent death at the hands of another, her father has become distant and, she’s in her senior year of high school and has some important life decisions to make, like what college to attend, and if she is falling in love her her best friend Lucas. And just to compound these stresses, Rowen has been having disturbing dreams of murder and death. One night, Rowen is kidnapped and taken to a facility called Rosewood. Her father is behind her kidnapping and claims it’s for her own good. You see, Rowen is blessed/cursed with a gift; she can predict who will die and who will commit murders just by touching them. The trainers at Rosewood tell her that those with a red aura will commit a crime of passion, and those with a black aura are psychopaths. And that she and the other young people at Rosewood will be trained and tasked with going out into society to determine who is indeed an imminent criminal. Rowen is all for her involvement; her mother, after all, was murdered, and she would like to prevent the same trauma from happening to others. However, it’s not that simple. A load of ethical questions come into play, like how moral is it to imprison someone who hasn’t committed a crime yet? And, what if you sense an aura around someone you love?
I really enjoyed this graphic novel. Its premise was interesting, albeit a bit confusing at times (parts of the characters’ backstories seem ill-placed). The artwork is wonderful, coloured in white, black, and various shades of grey, with additions of red and pink. Colours and artistry that suit the subject matter very effectively.
The story is bloody and violent and definitely aimed at 15-18 year olds.
Since the death of her father, Sonia Wilson has had to put aside her beloved profession of being a scientific illustrator and become an art teacher. With only a few friends and an oppressive headmistress, she seeks employment elsewhere…but there aren’t a lot of positions available, because she is, after all, a woman in the late 1800s. So when the reclusive scientist Dr. Hadler hires her to illustrate his work of bugs, worms and squiggly, squirming critters, she willingly obliges.
After trekking through the woods with creepy Mr. Phelps, who offered to chaperone her and narrate the nightmarish folktales of devils and blood thieves you would meet in the woods, she arrives at Dr. Hadler’s North Carolina mansion….wonderfully creepy, atmospheric.
Sonia soon realizes that the doctor’s work is rather odd and that the artist before her disappeared under mysterious circumstances, compounded by the fact that the animals in the area are behaving rather creepily, she begins to regret her decision to work. Also, what is with the creepy shed on the property, a place that the doctor brings live chickens and keeps under lock and key?
The story is narrated by Sonia, whose voice is so personable and funny (which is wonderfully juxtaposed against the creepy atmosphere). I really wanted to be her friend and, over a bottle of wine, hear all about her experience. Just a heads up, if you don’t like bugs and blood, this novel may not be for you. Kingfisher is quite graphic in her descriptions.
Except for a few parts that seemed somewhat redundant (especially when Sonia is questioning the reality of a horror she saw), the novel is humorous, suspenseful, and everything I expected from the author.
…oh, and I absolutely loved the Kents.
This is an great Southern Gothic to add to you audio book list.
I listened to the audio of this novel. Mary Robinette Kowal is the narrator, and she is absolutely wonderful. She is very effective with voices, accents, and intonation of emotion. I would definitely listen to other audiobooks she narrates.
Thank you to MacMillan Audio and NetGalley for the copies.
You’ll be able to buy Wolf Worm at the end of May.
If you’ve never heard of Mona Awad, I need you to stop what you’re doing and pay attention, because I’m about to send you down a rabbit hole you will not regret.
I’ve only read three of Mona Awad’s works, and all three can be classified as dark academia my favourite genre. Canadian author Mona Awad has quite theimagination. She writes novels that read like fevered dreams, especially for those of us who have a history of viewing ourselves as insecure, anxious, and at times with self-doubt.
My first experience with Awad was her novel All’s Well. Honestly, I bought,this novel, because I thought the cover was beautiful, and because it was a reference to Shakespeare’s play. Miranda Fitch is a college drama teacher who is bound and determined to produce Shakespeare’s All’s Well That Ends Well, mostly because she wants to relive a time in her life when she was at the height of her acting career, playing the lead role of Helen. Her students, however, are equally bound and determined to perform Macbeth — a play that Miranda holds directly responsible for her debilitating chronic pain. When she meets three strange men at a bar (men who symbolize the three witches of Macbeth) Miranda engages in the most bizarre conversations. Soon after, the physical and emotional pain she carries begins to transfer onto the people she dislikes, and Miranda starts to feel a dark, intoxicating sense of power at the expense of others.
Now, Bunny. Bunny is the most wild of novels. Samantha McKey is part of a creative writing cohort at an Ivy League university. The entire story is told from her point of view, but we glean through her narrative (and she is an extremely unreliable narrator) that she is a loner. She views herself as superior to the others in her cohort, referring to them as “the Bunnies.” Soon, however, she is invited to join the Bunnies’ “Smut Salon” — a gathering where they meet to discuss their work. But the Smut Salon goes far beyond discussion. Soon the Bunnies are kidnapping, killing, and conducting all sorts of experiments to create. There are hints woven throughout that Samantha may be mentally ill, and that the world of the Bunnies and the Smut Salon is entirely a creation of her own mind.
The sequel to “Bunny:” “We Love You, Bunny,” made me rethink every interpretation of “Bunny” I ever had. It’s written from the various points of view of the Bunnies themselves …they finally get to tell their side of the story. It seems Samantha, our protagonist and narrator from “Bunny” has written a bestselling novel about, of all things, the Bunnies themselves. And they are not happy. Why? because they are not exactly written in the most flattering light. They kidnap Samantha and tie her up in the same attic where they once held their Smut Salon and conducted their gruesome creative experiments. In fact, the axe is still there — and it’s often picked up like a talking stick by the various narrators.
Where Bunny felt to me like a story about identity, creativity, and what one will sacrifice in order to create both an identity and a piece of art, We Love You, Bunny is more about on the creative process itself. It presents such questions as who owns a piece of art, what constitutes plagiarism, and what makes a creative work credible. Both novels, I believe, require a second reading and a long conversation in order to peel back all the layers
:Mona Awad is not for everyone but if you are someone who loves stories that blur the line between reality and imagination, that make you question everything you think you know about a character, and that stay with you long after you’ve closed the book she just might be exactly for you. I would love to know if any of you have read her work, and what you thought. As always, happy reading.
Full disclosure, Catriona Ward’s writing is a favourite of mine; she could rewrite the ingredients of a cereal box, and I’d love it. So I was fully expecting to love this new novel of hers, and I did. Although it isn’t my favourite novel of hers, it was still a good, creepy, suspenseful, mystery, thriller, and horror novel.
The novel unfolds through multiple perspectives and timelines, with the estate of Nowhere serving as the central, unifying “character” of sorts.
Leif Winham, a renowned actor, retreats from a life of glamour to his secluded estate, Nowhere. He leads an isolated and enigmatic existence, prompting neighbors to view him as an eccentric recluse while remaining intrigued by both his lifestyle and the estate itself.
Tom, a documentarian, is driven to investigate Nowhere and the mythology that surrounds both the estate and its founder.
Riley, a young girl, experiences significant trauma after being orphaned and placed in the care of a cruel, abusive guardian referred to as ‘cousin.’ Both Riley and her younger brother suffer under this individual, ultimately compelling Riley to make the difficult decision to escape with her brother. The only refuge she can imagine is Nowhere, a place described to her by a girl named Noon, who visits her at night. Noon explains that Nowhere is a place ‘in the mountains under the stars where everyone gets love and respect,’ and provides Riley with written directions to this sanctuary for children like her can find a home.
I found each of these three perspectives equally enthralling, and when Ward expertly weaves the storyline together, the novel becomes an impressive, intricate piece of storytelling.
I really enjoyed this novel, as I knew I would. It is deeply suspenseful, and I found the characters well-developed and interesting. I wanted to know their motivations, their backstories, and eventually how their lives unfold.
Thank you to Netgalley and Tor Publishing for the book
Elodie leaves her life as a single mother in Australia to join Bren in the United States. Bren appears to be the ideal husband: he is handsome, a reliable provider, and willing to help raise her autistic son, Jude. Elodie is also pregnant, which makes her feel she finally has the foundation to start anew with her family. However, she remains uncertain about the old family home where Bren has relocated them. The house is in a constant state of renovation, and Jude dislikes it, claiming he can hear the walls talking. As Jude’s behavior deteriorates, Elodie fears her seemingly perfect life may unravel, particularly if Bren discovers her secret—a secret that could jeopardize her happiness or even her safety. Yet, Bren harbors secrets as well. The central question becomes: whose secrets pose the greater threat?
Just a heads up—the ending is completely wild and unpredictable.
Well, this was a creepy book. I found some parts predictable, and I was more than frustrated with some of the choices Elodie makes, but CG Drews seems to masterfully write a psychological thriller that will make me read more of her works.
I also listened to this novel, and truth be told, I found the audio version even creepier. In fact, Saskia Maaleveld’s voice absolutely sent shivers down my spine. I had to listen to it in the bright sunlight of a walk and not in the dark of my bedroom at night. which is a testament to how well Saskia Maarleveld conveys character and atmosphere.
If you like psychological horror, then this is the book for you.
Thank you to Netgalley and St. Martin’s Press for the copy.
I both listened to and read this novel.
Lady Tremaine is more than just a twist on the Cinderella story. It’s a feminist retelling of a tale many of us grew up with, where a beautiful girl loses her parents and is mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters. In this version, Hochhauser focuses on Lady Tremaine, whose full name is Ethedreda Verity Isolde Tremaine Bramlay. The story opens with Lady Tremaine hunting with her peregrine falcon. After her second husband’s death, she tries to keep up the appearance of wealth so her two daughters and stepdaughter have a chance to marry well and secure their futures in a society that limits women’s options. Ethel, as she’s called in the novel, understands the risks her daughters face as unmarried women. The book then goes back to her youth, when she met her first love, Henry, who introduced her to falconry and became her closest friend. As the daughter of a successful brewer, Ethel’s family has some standing, but they aren’t considered true equals by the upper class. Henry isn’t the eldest son in his family, so their marriage doesn’t cause much attention.
When Henry dies suddenly, Ethel’s father-in-law tries to marry off her two young daughters, who are only seven and eight, to avoid paying for their care. To protect them from becoming child brides, Ethel looks for a second husband and meets Lord Bramley, who is Elin’s (Cinderella’s) father. Like in the original fairytale, this marriage is short-lived, and Ethel is left widowed and without money. She stays at the estate but struggles to maintain it. With her daughters and two loyal servants, Ethel works hard to keep things going, while Elin stays in her room, preparing for marriage and living a sheltered life.
As per the fairytale, the court soon holds a ball so that the prince can meet a young marriageable woman. The ball presents the perfect opportunity for Ethel to prepare her daughters for a union that will secure all of their futures…however, the prince and his family aren’t all they appear to be. Will Ethel find a way to secure her daughters’ safety and future, or will she inadvertently expose them to the exploitation that exists within families of political power and wealth?
I really enjoyed this novel. A fairytale, voiced by a middle-aged woman, telling of her experiences, the wisdom gleaned from them, and the ferocity with which she makes the decisions she does to provide a better life for her daughters. She is a courageous character who becomes heroic rather than villainous.
I loved reading and listening to this novel. Written in first-person point of view, the narrator, Bessie Carter, is wonderful at embodying Ethel’s character and at varying the voices of secondary characters.
I would definitely introduce this novel into my High School Classroom as an independent choice for a novel study or small group study.
You can buy Lady Tremaine the beginning of March.
Thank you to Negalley and St. Martin’s Press and Macmillan Audio for the copies.
Sarah Walsh is on the run. The threat to her life is so intense that she steals the identity of another woman and flees to Ireland. On her flight, she meets Paul, a man who takes an uncomfortable interest in her, but Sarah has no one, so she accepts Paul’s help navigating a new country, even agreeing to stay with him and his family upon arrival. However, just like Sarah, Paul isn’t everything he appears to be. Soon, Sarah starts finding her own people and making friends, which is a huge relief after dealing with Paul and his oppressive family. The one exception? Paul’s dad is a kindly doctor who actually recognizes Sarah’s vulnerability and notices and encourages her artistic talent.
Her new friends anoint her with the name Saoirse (meaning ‘freedom’-an appropriate christening, as we shall soon see).
The novel alternates between Sarah’s time in Ireland as Saoirse, where she begins to reinvent herself and build her life anew, and Sarah’s past in Michigan, where we learn of the trauma she endures and her need to flee. The catalyst for the main conflict of the story (I’m not spoiling it because it happens at the beginning of the novel) is Saoirse’s public recognition as an artist, where she wins a prestigious award and is compelled to hold a public exhibit of her work.
The novel is one of resilience, heartbreak, love, found family and the importance of art in healing and recovery. I found it romantic (although at times frustrating with regard to Saoirse’s choices and rationale), infuriating in its themes of the archaic nature of the lack of a woman’s right to choose, and intriguing in its discussion of art. The chapters are organized and titled according to various artworks produced by Saoirse that seem to reflect, in both subject matter and medium, various periods of her life.
I both read and listened to this novel. If you are so inclined to listen to the audiobook, the narrator is wonderful.
Thank you to Netgalley and Caladon House for the copy.
Ink And Spine 