Read Harder Challenge 2017: Part 4

This month, I finished a few more challenges, including:

• Read a book by an immigrant or with a central immigration narrative.
• Read a book published between 1900 and 1950.
• Read a collection of poetry in translation on a theme other than love.

Balzer + Bray

First up, I read American Street by Ibi Zoboi, which follows Fabiola as she adjusts to life in America with her rowdy cousins and her reclusive aunt.  When she arrives in Detroit, she is confronted by a terrible crossroads that will change her life and haunt her as she goes in pursuit of the American Dream.  A fascinating inspection into the immigrant experience, American Street  was made all the more compelling by the fact that the author, like Fabiola, was emigrated from Haiti when she was only a child.

Overall, I liked American Street.  It's a good, solid book with interesting characters, a wonderful narrator, and a heart-wrenching story.  However, I often found myself divided, because I both loved and hated this book.  It inspired a lot of emotions, not all of them good, but it also made me think and it made me feel and it compelled me to read on through Fabiola's story even when I felt my interest waning.

But, most of all, I loved the hints of magical realism seeded throughout the story.  Fabiola has very strong beliefs and she particularly believes in the ilwas of Vodou, which adds a layer of mystery, a thin veil of magic that enriches her story.  You don't really discover if Bad Leg is really Papa Legba, or if he really is just some junkie off the street, like Fabiola's cousins say, but it's that uncertainty that imbues a certain strength in Fabiola's belief and offers uncommon insight into the landscape of Vodou.

Barnes and Noble

Next, I conquered A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs, who also happens to be author of Tarzan of the Apes.  I picked up A Princess of Mars because I had it on my shelf and, more to the point, it seemed like an acceptable escape from reality; however, I wasn't always enchanted with the story.  I mean, it was really just mindless fun.

Originally serialized in 1912, A Princess of Mars is the first of many novels of the Barsoom Chronicles penned by Burroughs.  It follows John Carter, a former military man from Virginia, who finds himself ambushed in Arizona--and transported to a different world.  Mars (known as Barsoom to the native peoples) is a seemingly desolate land populated with dangerous creatures and war-like citizens, and Carter must find a way to survive if he eventually hopes to return to his home world.

For much of the story, it's really just Carter being really impressive with his super-strength and incredible agility and uncanny ability to learn languages--that is, unless he's rescuing the damsel in distress or endearing himself to the local wildlife.  Something interesting or incredible usually happens at the end of every chapter, so it's a bit of a page turner when Carter isn't boring you with facts that are obviously wrong or making you laugh with physics that could obviously never happen.

New Directions

Last, I checked out Paris Spleen by Charles Baudelaire.  Paris Spleen is a short collection of poetry originally written in French in 1896 by Charles Baudelaire--and none of his poems are about love.  I found it exceedingly difficult to find a collection of poetry that didn't talk about love, because everyone likes to talk about love and relationships and affection.  They're warm, fuzzy feelings to which everyone can relate.

But Baudelaire doesn't base his poetry on warm, fuzzy feelings; instead, he examines a darker side of human life.  He looks at the every day pleasures of intoxicating drink, sensuous women, and fine art; however, he also shines a lot on oppression, city squalor, mistreatment, malice.  His work couldn't be farther from warm, fuzzy feelings, like love.

It worked for my Read Harder Challenge, but, I will admit, it's definitely an acquired taste.  Baudelaire is really something else.

Read Harder Challenge 2017: Part 3

I finally finished the next part of my Read Harder Challenge.  I finished:

• Read a book about books.
• Read a book that is set within 100 miles of your location.
• Read a collection of stories by a woman.

Simon & Schuster

Starting out, I finished reading The Bad-Ass Librarians of Timbuktu by Joshua Hammer, which details events beginning in 2012 when more than 350,000 manuscripts--many of which had been painstakingly collected by Abdel Kader Haidara--were endangered by Al Qaeda militants seizing control of Mali.  In his book, Hammer details how Haidara and other manuscript collectors managed to find, preserve, and rescue hundreds of thousands of manuscripts, before smuggling them out of the country under the noses of Al Qaeda.

As the summary attests, it's indeed a "brazen heist worth of Ocean's Eleven."  Personally, I found it fascinating to learn how Haidara became involved in the manuscript preservation business and how he and other librarians managed to steal away more than 350,000 manuscripts from Timbuktu.  I mean, the number is simply mind boggling.

Moreover, I was consistently fascinated by the history and culture of Timbuktu and Mali as a whole.  Hammer offers a rich variety of details, discussing the medical, cultural, historical, scholastic and artistic impact of Timbuktu.  Although his work can grow a little dry, every chapter offers fascinating insight into the history of Timbuktu and, more importantly, provides readers with an eye-opening portrait of the conditions faced by Mali's residents when Al Qaeda invaded.

Cipher-Naught

Next, I checked out Beauty and the Mustache by Penny Reid.  Set in Tennessee, Beauty and the Mustache is a short, sweet little romance--which kicks off the Winston Brothers series and continues the Knitting in the City series, both by Penny Reid--that brings together Ashley Winston and Drew Runous.  After spending more than 8 years away from home, Ashley is forced to return to Tennessee to help take care of her ailing mother.  Expecting the same rough treatment from her brothers as from years before, she's surprised to learn they've changed.  She's even more surprised to meet their friend Drew, especially when she realizes he's exactly her type.

Overall, I really enjoyed reading Beauty and the Mustache.  Like I noted above, it's a short, sweet little romance and it's absolutely adorable.  It's sometimes bittersweet, sometimes tragic, but I immensely enjoyed reading Penny Reid's novel.  I found I connected to Ashley, our main character and narrator, on a personal level and I admired her sharp, sarcastic sense of humor, her intelligence, and her ability to go toe-to-toe with Drew's philosophical meanderings.

However, I will note I was bothered by one thing:  I did not like the setting.  I love the Smoky Mountains, don't get me wrong; however, I simply didn't like the narrator's inability to describe her surroundings.  I was incredibly disappointed by the setting descriptions, which were seriously lacking.  I wanted to hear more about the winding roads, the multitude of trees, the softly sloping mountains in the distance, or the way the hills fade against the horizon, deepening to a slate blue before disappearing altogether.

I wanted to hear about places I've known or seen, but, sadly, I didn't get that chance.  It was slightly disappointing.

Anchor

Last, I read Moral Disorder by Margaret Atwood.  I think I might have fudged the challenge parameters with this one, since it's really just a single novel; however, as it's labeled with "Other Stories," I assumed it would do the trick.  It centers around one woman--Nell--but it's a compilation of many short stories from different points in her life.

It begins with "Bad News," toward the tail end of Nell's life, but it jumps through time with each story and catapults Nell into the past, showing readers glimpses of her childhood and her adolescence and, finally, her transition into adulthood.

Truthfully, I didn't enjoy reading Moral Disorder that much.  Atwood is a fantastic writer and her prose packs a punch when she wants it, but, personally, I found I couldn't always connect with the stories in Moral Disorder, I couldn't always connect to Tig and Nell.  Granted, when I did connect with one of these stories, it moved me deeply and I worried for Nell, like I'd worry for a friend; however, I found it was a rather unremarkable journey for me overall.

Read Harder Challenge 2017: Part 2

Next up for my Read Harder Challenge, I...

• Read a book about sports.
• Read a book you've read before.
• Read a book published by a micropress.

Admittedly, I wasn't sure how to conquer this first task, because I am not a sports and/or athletic person.  I am, at best, a rather sedentary creature with a great affinity for books and chocolate and good food, preferably in that order; however, I was willing to take a crack at this one, because, surely, I could find a sport liked.  Considering the sheer variety of sports out there, I knew I could find something entertaining.

Doubleday

And, luckily, I did.  A co-worker recommended Playing for Pizza by John Grisham, and, since the challenge doesn't specify fiction or nonfiction, I thought I'd give it a whirl.  I'm so glad I gave Grisham's novel a chance, because I enjoyed it so much more than I expected.  Granted, I listened to the audiobook, which features Christopher Evan Welch as narrator, but I don't think that matters as Playing for Pizza is a fun, accessible and entertaining novel whether listening or reading.

Not to mention, I really enjoyed the description of food.  (I was craving pasta like mad, before all was said and done.)

Playing for Pizza begins with a game, specifically the worst game of Rick Dockery's career.  Now, marked as the worst player in the NFL--and effectively banished from Cleveland--and sporting a terrible head injury that would leave most player's contemplating retirement, Rick is at his wits end.  Since he can't find a new position in the U.S., his agent directs him to Parma--as in Parma, Italy, where he becomes quarterback for a ragtag group of Italians who just happen to be American football aficionados.  It's a huge change for Rick--and, as Rick learns, it might not be a bad one.

Next, I decided to reread Hush by Jeph Loeb and Jim Lee.  This is one of my favorite Batman comics for the simple fact that it has some of the most alluring, most beautiful art I've encountered, and it has such a richly detailed, incredibly poignant story that it kept me absolutely mesmerized the first time around.  I love every bit of this book, and I found it to be even better the second (okay, third) time.

DC Comics

Unlike Loeb's earlier works, Long Halloween and Dark Victory, which features Batman's earlier career, Hush follows the weathered and strained Batman/Bruce Wayne as he tries to keep Gotham safe from new and ever worsening dangers.  Together with his cadre of crime-fighting vigilantes--including Nightwing, Robin, Huntress, and Superman (but not quite Catwoman)--Batman sets out to find the puppet master who has set the whole of Gotham's underworld onto his heels.

Hush is one of those comics that will knock your socks off.  It's thoughtful, it's complex, and it explores every emotional side of a Dark Knight who has suffered innumerable losses, endured more grief and pain than most can manage, and defeated some of the most terrifying villains in the world.  Moreover, it has a level of Agatha Christie-esque mystery, which I enjoyed.

I mean, I certainly didn't expect it to end the way it did--and I found Batman to be all the more clever for ultimately solving the mystery.

Last, I read Master of Crows by Grace Draven.  Originally published by Amber Quill Press (which, I realize, is not a micropress), it was eventually republished by Grace Draven--and, as the definition of a micropess means it is a small and/or single-person publisher, I decided it would fit nicely into this category to complete my challenge.

Yes, yes, I realize I might be pushing the rules with this one, but I have to point out that I haven't had a lot of luck finding books published by micropresses to which I have easy access.  I know of a few local publishers, but they are publishing companies with a large enough staff that I feel they don't count.  Moreover, I couldn't find something I enjoyed by a micropress to which I had access at my local library, thus the Internet--and Master of Crows--became my go-to choice.

Amber Quill Press/
Grace Draven

Now, putting aside my (weak) justifications, Master of Crows wasn't a bad novel.  In a world where magic exists and dark creatures lurk at the periphery of civilization, Silhara and Martise are thrust together in an unexpected alliance when one of the old gods--Corruption--returns.  Determined to stop Corruption and deny his fate, Silhara enlists the aid of the Conclave and meets Martise, a slave girl turned spy.  Together, they must discover Corruption's weakness and save the world....or, quite possibly, die trying.

I realize it sounds melodramatic and, yes, I suppose it is; however, it's also an unexpectedly complex novel that I enjoyed.  It has its faults, but, overall, it had interesting characters and created a sturdy setting that I appreciated.  Personally, I think I enjoyed Draven's ability to build her world.  It's rich with detail and magic, and I absolutely loved learning more and more about the creatures, places, and history of Silhara and Martise's world.  I realize it's more of an acquired taste, but it's certainly worth sampling.

Unless, of course, you're not a fan of explicit romance.  In which case, I probably wouldn't recommend it.

Read Harder Challenge 2017: Part 1

So first up on my Read Harder Challenge, I tackled:

• Read a debut novel.
• Read an all-ages comic.
• Read a superhero comic with a female lead.

Sourcebooks
Casablanca

I started with a debut novel, Kiss of Steel by Bec McMaster.  Although I originally intended to read A Man Called Ove, a debut novel by Fredrik Backman, I stumbled across Kiss of Steel purely by accident and discovered it was just what I needed to complete this challenge.  The first book in the London Steampunk series, Kiss of Steel tells the story of an alternative Victorian age in which verwulfen (werewolves), vampires, automatons, humans, and more live side-by-side in a steam-fueled world.

Honoria Todd fled to the rookeries in a desperate attempt to escape the Echelon, the blue-blood (i.e. vampire) aristocracy of London who rule over the city with an iron fist.  But when Blade, de facto master of the rookeries, discovers her living at the fringes of his little kingdom, he becomes embroiled in a series of unexpected mysteries involving Honoria.  Soon, a vampire--a blue-blood who has crossed the Fade, who has completely succumbed to blood lust--is terrorizing the rookeries and it's up to Honoria and Blade to stop it--and the Echelon--before it's too late.

I actually enjoyed reading Kiss of Steel.  It wasn't quite what I expected, but I wouldn't say that's a bad thing.  Granted, it was a bit explicit, hyper-violent, and incredibly grisly; however, McMaster's debut novel was a mixture of action, romance, science-fiction and paranormal fantasy that I found thrilling.  Overall, I enjoyed Kiss of Steel, but I do think it could have been better.  I would have loved to have delved deeper into the alternative history and discovered more about the people--and creatures--that inhabited this world.

Marvel

Next, I read Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur:  BFF (Volume 1) by Brandon Montclare and Amy Reeder, which was a fun and amusing comic featuring Lunella and, of course, the indomitable Devil Dinosaur.  First in the series, Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur:  BFF is a great comic for kids of all ages--and it's simultaneously amusing for adults.

It starts out with Lunella, who is 9-years-old and quite unlike other girls her age.  She's an unexpectedly talented inventor and she's also an Inhuman--and the Terrigen Mist that's creeping through the city, the amorphous haze that will activate her Inhuman DNA, terrifies her.  Desperate to keep her Inhuman DNA dormant, Lunella sets out to discover alien technology that will help her stop the Terrigen Mist and keep herself human.  That is, if Devil Dinosaur, who was transported to the future with the same alien technology, doesn't destroy everything first.

Overall, I loved reading Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur.  I admit, I was a little hesitant to read it at first.  I'd seen single issues in the local comic book store and, for some reason, I couldn't imagine myself reading them--and then I discovered the collected volume at the library.  I immediately fell in love.  Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur is a lot of fun to read.  Although it takes place in the Marvel Universe, readers don't really need a who lot of background about the Kree and the Inhumans and the Terrigen Mist to enjoy the story.  It has a dynamic, intelligent character, and it's a crazy, fun adventure that will lead you across time and the city of New York.

Last, I checked out Wonder Woman:  Blood (Volume 1) by Brian Azzarello, Cliff Chiang, and Tony Akins.  I have long been a fan of comic books.  I love Batman and Superman and even Aquaman, and I've found a recent favorite in Squirrel Girl, Daredevil, and Hawkeye; however, I've not read much of Wonder Woman.  She's an interesting character to be sure, but I've just never found myself compelled to read about her until now.

DC Comics

In Wonder Woman: Blood, first in the New 52 series, Wonder Woman finds herself caught in the middle of a battle for supremacy between the Greek gods of myth.  Diana has long abstained from the more complicated dealings between these capricious gods, but Zeus has gone missing--and Hera is on the war path to destroy the child he left behind.  Now, the remaining gods, including Apollo, Hades, and Poseidon, are in a war for the king of gods' throne, while Hera cuts a bloody swath across Paradise Island to rectify the injustices done to her.

Let me say, I like Greek mythology.  I've always been intrigued by it and I've gone out of my way to discover more about it than what I learned in school, but I wasn't really impressed with their appearance in Wonder Woman.  Honestly, I wasn't really all that impressed with the story in general.  I was a little disappointed, especially since I went into this comic with such high expectations.  I'm a fan of powerful, self-sufficient women, and I love the idea of Wonder Woman, who is a warrior first and foremost; however, I'm not so sure I like her in practice.

It's difficult to describe, but let me put it this way:  I like Batman, because he is human and he is deeply flawed.  I like Superman, because he is an alien who grew up in Kansas and he is good to the best of his ability.  Likewise, I like Aquaman, because he is half-human/half-Atlantean and he struggles daily with his dueling identities.  And all these characters have one thing in common:  they were raised, in my opinion, in a recognizable place and way.  Diana, on the other hand, was raised on Paradise Island with a different set of beliefs and a completely different set of rules, which makes it difficult to relate to her on a personal level.  More to the point, it made Wonder Woman:  Blood (Volume 1) less than enjoyable to read.

Read Harder Challenge 2017

Image courtesy of BookRiot

It's that time of year.  Cold weather, chilly mornings and wintery nights--and a whole new book list to tackle.  Once again, I'll be dipping into the Read Harder Challenge.  This year, there are new and challenging tasks to complete, including:

• Read a book about books
• Read a book that is set more than 5000 from your location.
• Read a nonfiction book about technology.
• Read a classic by an author of color.
• Read a book in which a character of color goes on a spiritual journey.
• Read an LGBTQ+ romance.
• Read a book published by a micropress.
• Read a collection of poetry in translation on a them other than love.

A few of these challenges will be difficult.  I mean, I don't know that I've ever read a book by a micropress or I've never consciously sought out one.  Likewise, I don't think I've thought about a book in which a character of color goes on a spiritual journey or actively looked for an LGBTQ+ romance.

I've already found suggestions.  Thanks to my coworkers (and a few hints on Goodreads), I've managed to find a potential book for just about all 24 challenges and I've already gotten a start on my reading.  (By the way, I highly recommend Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur by Brandon Montclare and Amy Reeder for reading an all-ages comic.  It's very good.)

And with that, I'm off to hunt down new books!

Happy reading.

Happy New Year: Read Harder Challenge 2016

Since I completed my Read Harder Challenge of 2016 and filled in all the categories recommended by BookRiot, I created some of my own unique categories.  As part of my continued challenge, I've decided to:

1. Read a book by or about a librarian (or about a library)
2. Read a medical book (fiction or nonfiction)
3. Listen to an audiobook romance
4. Read a brand new, recently published book (anything from 2016)
5. Read a spin-off from a classic novel and/or fairy tale
6. Read a book about cake (fiction or nonfiction)
7. Read a fantasy book featuring dragons

Gotham Books

I thought it might prove fun to dive into some new books I might not otherwise find.  Some are based on recommendations from co-workers, while others are based on books from my TBR pile--and still others are just ideas that seemed like fun.  And with the countdown to the New Year on, I can't wait to tell you all about the books I've read, starting with a book by (and about) a librarian:  The World's Strongest Librarian by Josh Hanagarne.

If you've never read Josh Hanagarne I highly recommend his memoir.  It's funny, it's candid, it's insightful, and, ultimately, it's uplifting.  Although Hanagarne does discuss religion, his main focus is his family, his battle with Tourette's, his struggles with infertility, and his general love of the library and all things literary.  It's enjoyable to see his passion for his family, his books, and his weightlifting come to the forefront as he learns to balance all the different aspects of his life.  Overall, it's a pretty great read.

Next, I read (or, rather, listened to) a medical book--a historical medical drama, fyi--by Tessa Harris:  The Anatomist's Apprentice.  Narrated by  Simon Vance, The Anatomist's Apprentice was an interesting deviation from my usual reading material.  Thomas Silkstone is a young anatomist from Philadelphia who finds himself in England about the time of the Revolutionary War, caught in the midst of a medical mystery...and a murder  It's dark, rather macabre, but it's ultimately fascinating with the sheer depth of detail and history included.  I enjoyed my time in Silkstone's world, and I found myself quickly gravitating to book number two, The Dead Shall Not Rest.

Bantam

As for listening to an audiobook romance, I decided to check out more by Sarah Addison Allen and picked up The Peach Keeper.  Now, let me give you a warning, I have read almost everything by Allen, except Lost Lake (that one is currently in my TBR), and I have loved almost everything she's written.  The Peach Keeper was no different.  I loved the characters and the complexity of their histories; I loved the little hints of every day magic she weaves into her novels; I even loved the ghost story, which is saying something, as I am not a fan of ghosts.  It was a wonderful visit back to her world, and it was so much fun recognizing an old friend.

I also picked up a brand new book just published this year, a little novel by J. Ryan Stradal called Kitchens of the Great Midwest.  Another audiobook, I know, but it was just as rewarding as any other.  Although it follows a myriad of characters, it focuses on Eva Thorvald and her life as she grows into her own--and all the foods that influenced her in the process.  That's really the simplified version; Kitchens of the Great Midwest is much more complex, much more nuanced than I make it out to be.  It's a recurring cast of characters centered around Eva, but it's quite unlike anything I've ever read.  It's wonderful, and I absolutely adored the narrators, Amy Ryan and Michael Stuhlbarg.

G.P. Putnam & Sons

Speaking of new books, I also discovered Jane Steele by Lyndsay Faye, which fit nicely into my category for a spin-off novel based on a classic work or a fairy tale.  There were several options for this particular category, but I decided on Jane Steele because Jane Eyre.  I love Jane Eyre (as is probably apparent here), and I loved having the opportunity to reimagine her story not as the quiet, resolute girl who refused to give ground to anyone or relinquish her personal beliefs, but as the sharp, deadly woman with no qualms whatsoever of killing if it means protecting herself and her own.  It's fascinating the contrasts, and I came to love Jane Steele equally for her unwavering commitment to being bad.  It's a rousing good time.

Next, I decided to keep my love of food alive with a book about cake and sisterhood:  The Secret to Hummingbird Cake by Celeste Fletcher McHale.  While I will admit that I liked Garden Spells and The Glass Kitchen better, I enjoyed reading McHale's debut novel--and I absolutely loved getting to know her characters.  I liked Carrigan and I liked Ella Rae for their bravery, sass, and sheer stubborness, but I adored Laine.  She's the impetus of the story, the reason for it all, and, like Carrigan and Ella Rae, I felt an unexpected affection and wonderful kinship with her.  I enjoyed reading their story more than I thought I would.  For a debut novel, The Secret to Hummingbird Cake was pretty great.

Little, Brown Books for
Young Readers

Last but not least, I read a fantasy book featuring dragons with How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell.  I picked Cowell's novel up because I fell in love with the movie of the same name; however, I was a little disappointed.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed reading How to Train Your Dragon.  It's fun, it's inventive, and it's a great series for young readers (I especially liked the Hairy Scary Librarian), but, unfortunately, it's not what I expected.  I made the critical mistake of judging the book in comparison to the movie--and they're two very different creatures.  How to Train Your Dragon the book is very different from How to Train Your Dragon the movie, and it's best not to go into either one with the same expectations.

Read Harder Challenge (Part Eight)

This week, I'm just barely eking by with my Read Harder Challenge.  After reading these last books, I have officially finished my list:

1. Read a book that is set in the Middle East
2. Read a nonfiction book about feminism or dealing with feminist themes
3. Read a food memoir

Little, Brown and Co.

To start off, I finally finished reading I Am Malala by Malala Yousafzai.  It only took my 6 months, but I finished it and, honestly, I'm glad I did.  It's a fascinating story that's both heartbreaking and incredibly informative, offering insight into the various cultures and relations of Afghanistan.  Although her story is grim, it's simultaneously uplifting.  Personally, I enjoyed reading about her and her father's endeavors to bring education to local children--and particularly to the young women of the community.

Malala is a skilled narrator.  She's bright, she's hopeful, she's very detailed and she's very intelligent.  Although her book is a translation, which is sometimes apparent, I felt like I could read and relate to her feelings.  She does a fine job of connecting to her readers, detailing her thoughts and feelings--and making her voice heard.  She makes a compelling argument for education, for giving women equal education opportunities.  Truthfully, you can see why Malala Yousafzai is a Nobel Prize Laureate.

I also had the opportunity to read a short (and rather famous) essay by Virginia Woolf:  A Room of One's Own.  As an avid reader and, ahem, English major in college, you would think I'd have taken the opportunity to read A Room of One's Own, but, until this year, I had yet to make more than a cursory acquaintance with Woolf's work.  Unfortunately, I wasn't enamored by her essay.

Harcourt Inc.

A Room of One's Own makes some very valid points.  It's important to read and, after reading it, it's something that all young women should have a chance to read at least once in their life.  However, I had a hard time reading Woolf's essay, because I just couldn't seem to focus on one thing before it jumped to another.  For instance, in the first few pages when Woolf described Oxbridge and her experiences at the esteemed university, I thought it took quite a long time to get to the point--and, confidentially, I found myself growing a little bored as I waited for her to come to a conclusion.  Not that her writing is bad, mind you; I just struggled to stay committed given her style of writing, so I'm not sure if that's so much her failing as my own.

The point is, I finished reading A Room of One's Own and I have a new appreciation for Woolf.  She's a talented writer, but, personally, I'm not so sure she's the writer for me.  I appreciate her work and I appreciate the significance of her essay, but I don't think she's the one and only feminist writer for me.

Last but not least, I read Julie and Julia by Julie Powell.  It's riotously funny, yet strangely poignant.  Oddly enough, it reminds me of Jenny Lawson and her memoir, Furiously Happy--yet just a tiny bit less chaotic.  Not by much, considering Julie Powell undertakes to make 524 different recipes, many of which take hours to prepare, in just one year in a crappy little apartment in Queens.  It's astonishing the things she (and her marriage) manages to survive, including:  biological clocks, frozen pipes, disastrous dinner parties, inane dead end secretarial jobs, break downs, Blanche days, and celebrity crushes.

Hatchette Books

It's really a pretty amusing book, especially if you decide to listen to it as read by the author (which I did); however, it's not quite the food memoir I expected.  In fact, Julie and Julia is more memoir than food.  Julie is hellbent on recreating all of Julia Child's recipes in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, vol. 1 and, in her journey, she learns how to make a variety of dishes and confronts some of the most trying times of her life.  While it features a lot of cooking, Julie and Julia feels like it's more about the experiences of cooking and the results, specifically what happens to the author as she slogs through more than 500 French recipes, than the actual cooking, but I can't say I minded.

Julie and Julia is strangely heartwarming and incredibly amusing.  To me, it strikes just the right balance that makes it a memoir worth reading, especially if you have the chance to listen to the author tell her own story.  It makes it memorable.  However, I will note that while I was listening to the audiobook I discovered I borrowed the abridged version.  I don't know if the audiobook had the full text, but I do know I missed a few things that might otherwise have filled in details or fleshed out the characters involved.  It was my only disappointment in an otherwise wonderful book.

Read Harder Challenge (Part Seven)

I finished some new books for my Read Harder Challenge, and I've completed more reading tasks:

1. Read a biography (not memoir or autobiography)
2. Read a dystopian or post-apocalyptic novel
3. Read a book about religion (fiction or nonfiction)

St. Martin's Griffin

First up, I finished Florence Foster Jenkins by Nicholas Martin and Jasper Rees, which inspired the recently released movie of the same name.  Florence Foster Jenkins was not a traditional singer.  At a young age, she was well known for her skill with a piano and her love--and, more importantly, support--of music; however, it wasn't until she was 76 years old that she undertook to become a concert singer.  She's best remembered for her concert at Carnegie Hall and her vinyl recordings, which introduced the world to her rather...unique voice.

I enjoyed reading Florence Foster Jenkins.  Drawing from multiple resources, including Florence and her common law husband, St. Clair Bayfield, Martin and Rees' book does an incredible job of shedding light on Florence, her work, and her time.  It's intriguing without becoming dull, amusing without ridiculing its rather unorthodox subject, and chock full of interesting historical facts about Florence and the New York artistic scene of the early 20th century.  Overall, I enjoyed it and I highly recommend for any readers to take a moment to listen to Madame Jenkins on YouTube to get a better idea of how her singing voice sounded.  You (probably) won't regret it.

Scholastic Press

Next, I completed Rook by Sharon Cameron.  The Sunken City--formerly Paris, the City of Lights--is a place of danger, desperation, and despotism.  Ruled by the corrupt Premier Allemande and the bloodthirsty LeBlanc, the Sunken City is brimming with discontent and revolution--and, at the heart of it all, is the mysterious Red Rook who spirits people from their cells and wreaks havoc against the Premier's puppet government.

A story packed with action and adventure, political intrigue and danger, Rook has quickly become one of my guilty pleasures.  I know it falls under the rather broad category of dystopian young adult fantasy (think Hunger Games, Divergent, The Maze Runner, Life as We Knew It or even The Giver), but I really enjoyed Sharon Cameron's novel.  I enjoyed the characters, the unexpected twists and turns, the ambiguous references to the past, the complicated political climate.  I wasn't a fan of the love triangle and, yes, I will admit that the story seemed to drag in a few places; however, altogether, I really liked it and I think it settles in nicely next to Cinder.

Last, I rounded out my reading with God in Pink by Hasan Namir.  Ramy is a young Muslim man living in Iraq in 2003, right in the midst of a war and a cultural revolution--and he also happens to be gay.  Struggling with what he knows his brother would term a "sexual deviancy," Ramy tries to balance his feelings with his obligations to his family and his faith.

Arsenal Pulp Press

Truthfully, I struggled with this novel, because I was not comfortable with all the depictions of heinous violence and wanton savagery.  I understand that mindless cruelty, thoughtless barbarity is simply a fact; I understand that it happens, that it's not something you can ignore if you live on the planet Earth.  I know it exists, but it's still hard to read about terrible things happening to other people.

I didn't hate this novel; rather, the opposite.  I thought God in Pink was a magnificent book depicting life in war-torn Iraq for a gay Muslim man.  It's poignant and it's guaranteed to make an impact, but, at the same time, it will tear out your heart.  I recommend reading it with great caution, like I would for Native Son by Richard White, Beloved by Toni Morrison, or The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck.  Read it, but expect deep emotional turmoil.

Read Harder Challenge (Part Six)

I'm working on my Read Harder Challenge again, and this time I decided to:

1. Read a book out loud to someone else
2. Read a book that is by an author from Southeast Asia
3. Read a book about politics, in your country or another (fiction or nonfiction)

Putnam

First off, I read Let's Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson out loud to my boyfriend.  At first, I read a few pages to my dog, but she didn't seem particularly interested and, moreover, she apparently had better things to do.  My boyfriend, on the other hand, was a little more receptive and seemed to enjoy Lawson's crazy (figuratively speaking) memoir.

He and I both enjoyed reading Let's Pretend This Never Happened, because it was just so funny.  After reading Furiously Happy, which is fueled by Lawson's frenetic energy and her off-kilter sense of humor, Let's Pretend This Never Happened was familiar ground--and equally hilarious.  I loved hearing about Lawson's childhood, her struggle to become an author, and her struggle to acclimate to her various disorders.

It's really quite funny, and it's hard not to laugh at the seemingly random and entirely crazy things that have happened to the author.  But, be warned, some of her stories may be jarring or, more accurately, scarring.  I mean, the incident with Stanley the Magical, Talking Squirrel left me with a feeling of revulsion and horror that's hard to beat.  But the embarrassing (and traumatizing) experience involving Jenny and a particular cow does its best to rival it.

William Morrow

Next, I read Ghost Bride by Yangsze Choo, a Malaysian author.  Set during the British colonization of Malay, Ghost Bride is an intricate and beautiful novel full of Chinese folklore and regional myths and Malaysian history.  The story revolves around Li Lan, a young woman from a poor aristocratic family, who finds herself confronted with an unusual proposal:  a spirit marriage to a young noble who recently perished.  But Li Lan has no interest in becoming a bride for a ghost.  In this haunting debut novel, Li Lan must fight for her freedom--and possibly her very soul--if she ever hopes to escape the clutches of the dead and marry the man she truly loves.

Li Lan was a lovely, dynamic narrator.  I found it interesting to see how she changed as a person from her experiences in the underworld and through her relationship with the mysterious, enigmatic Er Lang.  Li Lan did a wonderful job of explaining much of the customs and beliefs in Malay without overwhelming you by offering too much information or leaving you lost, unable to discern what is happening in the narrative.  It strikes a perfect balance, which I greatly appreciated.

Ghost Bride is a bit of an unusual story, yes, but it's absolutely fascinating.  I was enchanted by Choo's descriptions of the spirit world and the rules which govern them, by the intriguing (and, sometimes, terrifying), full-bodied characters she created, by the history of the Pacific nation.  In short, it's a wonderful book--and I absolutely loved it.

Last, I read The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli.  I was not impressed, let me say so now.  I know part of that is because I purchased a translation that was--well, let's say less than spectacular.  While I was reading, I noticed little mistakes.  Some were simple typos, but a few were glaring grammar mistakes.  It's almost like the original Italian text was just fed through Google and published even with the transcription mistakes.

Dante University 

Plus I was so bored ALL THE TIME.  (Sorry for the capitals, I just feel that statement needed extra emphasis.)  It took me literal weeks to finish reading The Prince, even though it was only 114 pages.  I just couldn't keep up with it.  I was bored by it after only a few pages, and I couldn't stand reading it after I realized I couldn't consider the text reliable.

It was terrible.

I finished the book only because I needed a book on politics as one of the requirements for my Read Harder Challenge.  But, honestly, I wouldn't subject anyone to my copy of The Prince.  I would read it again for a college course, if necessary; otherwise, I don't think I'd ever read it again if I didn't have to read it.

Read Harder Challenge (Part Five)

This week, I completed three more challenges:

• Read a collection of essays
• Read a book under 100 pages
• Read a book by or about a person that identifies as transgender

Vintage Books

For my first challenge, I had to read a collection of essays.  At first, I picked up Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace, but I quickly changed my mind after attempting to read the first essay.  (Way too dense, and way too much porn for my taste.)  So, in my second attempt to finish this challenge, I read I Feel Bad About My Neck:  And Other Stories on Being a Woman by Nora Ephron--and am I glad that I did.

I absolutely loved reading Nora Ephron's essays on what it means to be a woman and, more importantly, what it feels like to have to deal with time, age, facial products, and oversized purses.  I laughed liberally throughout reading this book.  Her experiences are universal and her humor is outrageous.  Even if I couldn't relate to every experience, her essays had a way of picking out the familiar, like frustrations with wrinkles or hair dye, hatred of purses because they have a way of eating change and spitting up tic-tacs, or fighting over directions with a spouse.

It's a short read, but it's an incredibly fun journey.  I enjoyed every story in Ephron's book, but I especially enjoyed her wit and her candor and her humor as she recounted her many, familiar experiences.  She managed to connect with me as a reader and as a woman, and I appreciated her book for that.

Next, I quickly read Young Goodman Brown by Nathaniel Hawthorne.  Although it probably constitutes as a short story rather than a "book," which the challenge calls for, I thought it would be a good place to start.  I don't often read short books or novellas, and I had a dickens of a time trying to find a book under 100 pages.  Even How to Train Your Dragon, which took me part of a day to read, was over 100 pages.

So...short story it is!

Wildside Press

The plot of Young Goodman Brown is simple:  Goodman Brown takes leave of his wife, Faith, for some unknown errand in the forest, whereupon he meets a stranger in the forest carrying a black serpent-shaped staff.  He stumbles across various townspeople who travel the forest with him, until he reaches an altar in the middle of the wood where new acolytes are being brought into the fold--and one of them is his wife, Faith.  Events transpire which test his faith, causing him to live the rest of his life distrustful of his neighbors--and then he dies.

If you were hoping for a surprise, I'm sorry if I ruined the story for you, but I have to say that I didn't understand the point of this story.  On the one hand, Hawthorne sets up the episode as a potential dream, so I have no way of knowing whether or not his entire ordeal is real--which means a dream completely ruined his life.  On the other hand, if it is real, he has the ability to see the hypocrisy and sins of his neighbors, which also ruined his life.

I didn't like it.  I'm fairly certain that Faith was supposed to represent his actual faith and, when he lost her in the dream, he lost her in real life.  And I'm pretty positive that the traveler with the serpent staff is the devil, since all the evil people know him and Goodman--a good man--has the good sense to fear him.  There's so much metaphor and symbolism in, like, 12 pages that it's almost sickening.

Scholastic Press

Last, I read George by Alex Gino as part of my reading a book by or about a person who identifies as transgender.  I don't know anything about the author, but I do know that the book is about George, a little boy who would rather be a girl and who desperately wants to play Charlotte in the school play of Charlotte's Web.

One of the things I noticed about this book was how George, who did not describe or identify himself as a boy, is consistently referenced with feminine pronouns.  I thought it was a nice touch, because it seemed to make an impact, seemed to impart the importance of a person who is transgender to identify with the gender they choose.  It's an intriguing and eye-opening concept that, I thought, adequately conveyed some of the struggles that George encounters.

I actually enjoyed reading George more than I thought I would.  I'll admit, I was a little hesitant, because I had my own preconceived notions with which to contend, as well as others.  Given the debate in the media over which bathrooms transgender individuals should and shouldn't use, I really didn't want to read a book that was full of ugly prejudices or a novel that would dwell upon hurtful things.  I was afraid of finding a depressing novel.

Luckily, I didn't.  George is surprisingly upbeat, and I found it was rather fun to follow his journey from George to Charlotte, how he managed to fulfill the slogan on the back cover:  "Be Who You Are."  It has a positive message, and it's appealing because it doesn't get bogged down by hateful language; rather, it focuses on George's journey and her success in embracing her own identity.

Read Harder Challenge (Part Four)

I have three more books to add to my list for the Read Harder Challenge:

1. Read a nonfiction book about science.
2. Read a book originally published in the decade you were born.
3. Read a book with a main character that has a mental illness.

First on my list is How to Read the Solar System:  A Guide to the Stars and Planets by Chris North and Paul Abel, who host The Sky at Night on BBC.  I'm actually really glad I finished this book, because it offered me insight into the solar system that I certainly didn't have prior to reading North and Abel's book.  While it is a bit dry and quite dense, I should point out that How to Read the Solar System is not a bad book.

Pegasus Books

I mean, I was sometimes very bored when the authors went into great detail about indicating how amateur astronomers should find a specific location in space--like how to find a particular moon by Jupiter, or which filter to use use in order to observe the sun (helpful, if I understood where one might find such filters.  Or if my telescope worked properly), or pinpointing the exact degree to which one might adjust a telescope to find Venus--and I found myself losing interest.  Quickly.

I'm not saying it wasn't a good book.  I learned something interesting about each of the planets and the different heavenly bodies that inhabit space, which was an important aspect of reading this book.  For instance, I learned that Io, one of Jupiter's dozens of moons, has tectonic activity (specifically cryovolcanic activity, since it's an icy wasteland); sound waves travel faster through plasma, which gives scientists the opportunity to measure the internal activity of the sun (since it's made up of plasma); and meteor showers are essentially the debris left behind by comets, like a dust storm that the Earth passes through during its orbit.

I enjoyed actually learning something new, even if it's not quite as useful as one might hope.  Like I said, it's not a bad book.  Just a little dry and dense and, dare I say it, pedantic.  It's not something I would read twice, but it's a vast well of information that's sure to hold appeal for readers who greatly enjoy science, astronomy, technology, and even mathematics.  It's definitely worth checking out, especially if you're curious about the solar system and the explorations humankind has made.  More importantly, it gets a point in my book for having an index, so I was able to easily look up the most intriguing bits of information.

Next, I looked at The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester, which was more in line with my purview.  Titled The Surgeon of Crowthorne when it was originally published in Britain, Winchester's book underwent a slight change when it migrated over to the United States, becoming The Professor and the Madman--which was accompanied by the glorious subtitle, A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary.  I mean, how could I not be the tiniest bit enticed?

HarperPerenial

The Professor and the Madman is a story about the formation of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), specifically one of the most prolific contributors in its history:  Dr. William Minor.  Minor was an American surgeon during the Civil War, who was eventually convicted of murder and put into a sanitarium; however, during his stint at Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum, he stumbled across a call for contributors to the dictionary.  Contacting Professor James Murray, who oversaw the entire project, he began to offer definitions for the OED and sent thousands of papers slips to Oxford, before his death in 1920.

As crazy as it might seem, it's all very true.

Like Erik Larson--who has written Devil in the White City, Dead Wake, and Thunderstuck--Winchester has a narrative quality to his work that makes it appealing without compromising the facts.  Winchester pulls from a variety of resources, including medical documents from Broadmoor (an infamous mental institution for the criminally insane in Crowthorne), correspondence between Professor Murray and Dr. Minor and other important individuals, as well as historical texts.  He uses information to benefit the story, supplying an electrifying narrative and, simultaneously, feeding his readers the true and unaltered facts.  It's all very, very good.

As for my final book, I read The Lives They Left Behind:  Suitcases from a State Hospital Attic by Darby Penney and Peter Stastny.  Although I suspect this final category--which recommends reading a book with a main character who has a mental illness--is referring to a fictional novel rather than a nonfiction narrative, I decided to run with the ambiguous wording and read something not about one character with mental illness, but ten.

The Lives They Left Behind explores the lives of Willard State Hospital patients who were admitted to the hospital during the late 19th and 20th centuries.  Penney and Stastny provides an in-depth look at some of the permanent residents at Willard, as well as offers a glimpse at the big picture of mental/psychiatric care during its formative years.  The book also provides photographs and illustrations that further illuminate the care patients received, and what sort of trials they went through with (or, in some cases, without) mental illness.

Bellevue Literary Press

Altogether, I found it to be a fascinating book.  It's an examination of psychiatric care that provides statistics, which can prove a bit dull, but it also connects on an emotional level and delivers nuggets of truth that are sometimes like a punch in the gut.  It's a tough read sometimes.  For instance, I had a hard time reading about the electroshock therapy that often caused patients to have convulsions, or the medications that were prescribed that often did more harm that good--or, worse, how some patients were treated even if they didn't suffer from a psychiatric disease.

Patients, like Ethel Smalls or Margaret Dunleavy, were most likely suffering from other conditions rather than mental disorder.  Ethel Smalls likely suffered from PTSD after losing her children and being on the opposite end of her husband's temper, enduring years of abuse that left her in a fragile state.  Likewise, Margaret Dunleavy was hospitalized after an uncharacteristic outburst due to a personal tragedy and chronic pain.  Neither woman displayed the usual characteristics of mental disorder, rather they were hospitalized because they were inconvenient.  It's a heartbreaking fact behind the stories of many patients.

Read Harder Challenge (Part Three)

I've discovered some more books as part of my commitment to the Read Harder Challenge of 2016, and I've discovered some great stories in my explorations.  I have managed to:

1. Read a horror book.
2. Read the first book in a series by a person of color.
3. Read a play.

HarperTeen

Usually, I don't read horror novels.  Dracula and Frankenstein are about it for me, but I have managed to read Stephen King's The Shining and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson, among a handful of other novels that are considered good and scary.  And so, in order to satisfy my challenge criterion and read a horror story, I read Something Strange and Deadly by Susan Dennard.

Although I didn't initially lump Dennard's novel into the horror genre, I reconsidered my stance after necromancy and ritualized violence became involved.  The novel is pretty mild, all things considered--I mean, I certainly wouldn't put it at the level of The Walking Dead or Stephen King, or even Dracula--but it's still rather gory and riddled with a tough kind of suspense that leaves you hanging on the edge of your seat, hoping for more answers.  However, I think it's the zombies that pushed it over the edge and helped me give it a final designation as a horror novel.

I wouldn't call Something Strange and Deadly one of my favorites, but it isn't a bad book; in fact, I initially enjoyed it.  I liked the creepy atmosphere of it coupled with the turn of the century setting, and I even liked the story:  a wicked necromancer comes back from the dead to terrorize Eleanor Fitt, while the Dead continue to rise from their graves across Philadelphia.  It's an intriguing adventure, to say the least; however, I wasn't entirely thrilled with the story when I examined it in retrospect.  The phrase "shut pan" annoyed me to no end.  (Part of me began to think the author found a new, novel phrase and decided to run with it.)

Harper Voyager

Next, in reading the first book in a series by a person of color, I picked up My Soul to Keep by Tananarive Due.  As the first book in the African Immortals series, My Soul to Keep fit the bill perfectly to fulfill this challenge and check it off my list.  I stumbled across it purely by accident, finding it in audiobook form from my local library's website--and I was immediately hooked.

I was intrigued by the premise:  an Ethiopian warrior stumbles across the secret to immortality and spends the rest of his eternal life alternating between identities, enduring a number of years as a slave on a Southern plantation, before becoming a Civil War soldier, a jazz singer, and, finally, a college professor and author.  His story is one of sorrow and loss, desperation in trying to hold tight to the ones he loves.  I was riveted from the first word, from the first moment the narrator spoke and started to weave a complex, beautiful story about Dawit--David--and his wife, Jessica.

At just over eighteen hours long, it took me a number of weeks whittling away at the story to complete it, but I have to say I was thrilled.  It's detailed and strongly written (and narrated by Peter Francis James, who has an amazing voice by the way), and it's absolutely riveting.  The story packs a punch, pulling together a myriad of religions, myths, cultures, and countries to create a flawless tapestry of history and suspense, beauty and sorrow.  I became emotionally invested in Dawit and Jessica's story, and I found myself hoping for the best outcome--and crying (just a little) when tragedy strikes.  I highly recommend picking up My Soul to Keep and reading it for yourself.

Dover Publications

Last, I worked on Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House.  Having read a portion of the play during a theater history class in college, I was intrigued about the prospect of reading the entire play this time around.  It was just my good fortune that I found a copy of the play for a dollar at my local used bookstore.  It's almost as if it was fated to be.

A Doll's House is an interesting play, not action-packed or suspenseful (like either of the two entries listed above).  For the time period, it's thought-provoking and, even now, it raises a lot of questions about women as spouses and mothers--and what are the typical roles of women in society.  It's a play designed to make you think, rather than thrill you.

Personally, I thought it was fascinating to see how Nora managed to flaunt convention, managed to get what she wanted despite the restrictive constraints of her time that were placed upon her gender, and, more importantly, proved she was capable of making her own decisions.  It's a bit slow, but I think it's worth reading at least once, especially if you're interested in theater.

Read Harder Challenge (Part Two)

Feiwel & Friends

Continuing with my Read Harder Challenge of 2016, I've managed to complete:

1. Read a book over 500 pages long.
2. Read a book of historical fiction set before 1900.
3. Read a book that was adapted into a movie, then watch the movie.  Debate which is better.

Shortly after the New Year, I finished reading Winter by Marissa Meyer.  At just over 800 pages, it fit nicely into the "over 500 pages" category--and I couldn't be more excited.  As the conclusion of the Lunar Chronicles, which spanned four books (including Cinder, Scarlet, and Cress) and spawned a novella (Fairest) and a short story collection (Stars Above), Winter is the book I've been waiting all year to read.

In Meyer's latest novel, you have the opportunity to meet Winter, princess of Luna.  She is the step-daughter of Queen Levana, ruling monarch of the Lunar colony; moreover, she's the cousin of the lost princess, Selene (who's very important to the story, trust me).  Several years ago, she vowed never to use her manipulative powers again--which means she's slowly going crazy--and she quietly rebels against the queen.

Open Road Media

I loved the whole concept of Winter, the mixture of fairy tale and science fiction that originally enchanted me in Cinder, and I loved the story.  Winter is an unusual character:  she's totally batty, but she's genuinely nice and she's surprisingly adept at thwarting Queen Levana's wishes, considering she's spent a number of years under her stepmother's thumb (and suffered terribly for it).  Overall, I was inordinately pleased to get my hands on a copy and add it to my collection--and I couldn't wait to see what Meyer would do with the traditional "happily-ever-after."

Next, I read Sorcery and Cecelia; Or the Enchanted Chocolate Pot by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevemer.  Although Wrede and Stevemer's novel technically falls into the realm of fantasy, I think (read:  decided) it can also be construed as a historical fiction novel.  Being set in England in 1895, it's at the very cusp of the 19th century.  So, yes, I think it qualifies.

Sorcery and Cecelia is a strangely pleasing novel.  Think Jane Austen, but throw in a bit of wizardry and magic for spice.  It's an enjoyable little story that features the exchange of letters between Cecelia and Kate, cousins who share an adventurous spirit--and a fiery attitude.  Their correspondence begins at a bit of a slow pace, but once the schemes of Miranda Tanistry begin to unfold, the adventure picks up pace and soon Kate and Cecelia are drawn into a twisted web of danger and deception--and, of course, intrigue with a distinctively Victorian flavor.

Greenwillow Book

It's an immensely satisfying story, and I was ultimately thrilled by the novel.  It appealed to my love of classic English literature and fantasy without compromising on either one.  Although I was initially hesitant to begin Wrede and Stevemer's novel (for the slow pace, mind), I'm glad I stuck with the story and finished it.  It was surprisingly enjoyable and, I'll point out, exceedingly fun.

Last, I read Howl's Moving Castle by Diane Wynne Jones.  Finding a book that I wanted to read and watch onscreen proved a trifle more difficult than either entry listed above.  Howl's Moving Castle is both a classic young readers novel by Jones and an animated movie directed by Hayao Miyazaki.  Having watched Miyazaki's movie in the past, but needing a refresher, I decided it would be appropriate to pick up Howl's Moving Castle and decide which is ultimately best.

Except I don't really have an immediate answer.

Howl's Moving Castle as a book and Howl's Moving Castle as a movie are two very different beasts.  First, they are very different formats and have their own merits as such; two, they tell different stories; and, three, the characters feel completely different that I have a hard time classifying them as the same individuals.  For instance, in the book, Sophie is quiet and mousy as a young woman, but she's an outspoken curmudgeon when she's morphed into an old woman; however, in the movie, she's pretty quiet throughout and she's more like a doting grandmother, rather than the nosy old grouch in the book.

Studio Ghibli

Likewise, the stories have an entirely different flavor to them.  In the book, the Witch of the Waste is the real danger.  Her machinations have directed the kingdoms toward disaster and put Howl's loved ones in grave danger (and, yes, Howl does have loved ones outside Ingary).  Howl is, in fact, running from his responsibilities and putting a number of miles between himself, the King of Ingary, and the Witch of the Waste--and the curse she's heaped upon him.  But in the movie, Howl is caught in the midst of a war and the Witch of the Waste, while still a daunting figure, is certainly not up to challenging Howl, less so the Wizard Suliman (who is of a different gender entirely in the novel, but that's another story).

Anyway, as I said, I can't really pick which one is better.  Miyazaki's creation is wonderful:  beautiful animation, an intriguing and compelling story, and a whole heaping of creativity that takes a story and gives it wings--quite literally.  And Jones's book is absolutely lovely:  magical and creative, full of quirky characters and fabulous stories and a weaving, winding plot that's sure to keep readers on their toes.  Both are equally wonderful and entertaining, but if I lean more toward appreciating the book, I can only say I like it best for the fact that I can physically hold it in my hands and let my imagination truly wander.

Read Harder Challenge (Part One)

As part of the Read Harder Challenge for 2016, I've picked several books to fulfill some of the criteria.  So far, I've managed to:

1. Read a middle grade novel
2. Listen to an audiobook that has won an Audie Award
3. Read a non-superhero comic that debuted in the last three years

Candlewick Press

For my middle grade novel, I completed Flora and Ulysses:  The Illuminated Adventures by Kate DiCamillo.  A fun little book with amusing illustrations, Flora and Ulysses was a nice surprise for me.  I picked it up for the simple fact that it had a squirrel on the cover.  I simply couldn't help myself--I mean, who wouldn't be enticed by a book that has a squirrel as a main character?  (Not a friend of mine, I can say with certainty.)

Anyway, the main point is that I really liked DiCamillo's novel.  It caters to a younger audience, yes, but it's accessible and enjoyable to read even as an adult.  It toys with more mature themes, like divorce; however, it does so in a way that's understood by children and appealing to parents.  It's a good book with a good story (an odd story, but a good story nevertheless).  DiCamillo is also the author of  Because of Winn Dixie, and she further cements her reputation as an exceptional author with Flora and Ulysses.

Random House

Now, to fulfill my audiobook requirement, I actually revisited World War Z by Max Brooks.  I originally listened to the audiobook simply because I loved World War Z and I was intrigued to see what a full cast would be like reading it (especially since I discovered it featured Nathan Fillion, Martin Scorsese, and, of course, Mark Hamill).  It was just a happy accident that I happened to stumble across an Audie Award winner from 2007.

I highly recommend listening to World War Z if you've read the book--or, actually, even if you haven't read the book.  Having a full cast, World War Z  is singularly entertaining as an audiobook.  It's still full of the same stories, the same diversity and detail that made it such a wonderful novel, but, now, you have the chance to actually listen to those stories and more fully imagine the characters behind them.

(I will note, however, that I think I picked up an abridged version of the novel.  I don't know if the abridged novel is the only one available, or if there's a copy of the audiobook out there that has every single chapter, but, regardless, I recommend trying to get your hands on the full copy for the greatest effect.  My only complaint was that it left out some of my favorite chapters.)

Dark Horse

And then there's my non-superhero comic:  Lady Killer by Jamie S. Rich and Joelle Jones.  I picked up Lady Killer at my local comic book store on a whim, because I liked the cover (oddly enough) and I liked the idea of reading about a housewife who worked part-time as a hired killer.  It was a fascinating dynamic that intrigued and compelled me to pick up a copy for myself.

Josie Schuller is far from being a superhero:  she's pragmatic, ruthless, and cold-blooded.  She's a survivor, which means anything goes when it comes to protecting herself and her own (including her darling twin girls).  Overall, I liked reading Lady Killer.  It's probably one of the best comic books I've read within the last year--and it might simply be one of the best I've ever read.  Period.

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For more on the Read Harder Challenge of 2016, check out Book Riot.  And for more book reviews from Reader's Reach, scroll through the archives to find something you might like.

And, as always, happy reading.

Read Harder Challenge 2016

Last year, I attempted to complete the Read Harder Challenge.  I finished a portion of the list, and I even posted some reviews on another blog I maintained (which I have since let fall into disrepair - unfortunately); however, I let it fall by the wayside after a couple of months.  This year, however, I hope to change that and complete the Read Harder Challenge of 2016.

Here is a snippet of what you can expect:

• Read a horror book
• Read a nonfiction book about science
• Read a biography (not a memoir or autobiography)
• Read a book originally published in the decade you were born
• Listen to an audiobook that has won an Audie Award
• Read a book by an author that is set in the Middle East
• Read a nonfiction book about feminism or dealing with feminist themes

There's more, of course, but this is just a taste.  Book Riot has added a lot of different challenges this year, and they've changed from the previous year with the goal of getting reader's to branch out into different realms - and, more importantly, get out of their comfort zone.  (Speaking of which, I might have to work a little harder for "Read a book out loud to someone else."  That's definitely outside of my comfort zone.)

Anyway, I've only just started on my list, but I'm hoping to finish it and maybe work on some of my own reading challenges once I'm done.  My goal for the New Year is to read more and read broadly, and maybe find some new favorites along the way.

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For more information about the Read Harder Challenge, check out Book Riot.  You can find suggestions and recommendations from other readers who are trying to find books just like you!

And for a copy of your own reading challenge, click here.

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As always, happy reading.

- The Scrivener