Tag: good book

Book Reviews

Why The Stand Ruined My Life (or an adventure in a long ass book)

Manda Kay

I did it.

After months, almost half a year, I finished The Stand by Stephen King.

I wanna start out by saying that I enjoyed it for the most part. I know a lot of people consider it to be his best work. I still have a hard on for the final installment of The Dark Tower series that shares the same name, but I do think this one is in my top five for sure.

Manda Kay (@___mandakay) • Instagram photos and videos

That being said, though…

Spoilers ahead:::

My favorite character in the entire book was Nick. Favorite is a bit of an understatement, I think. I was in love with Nick. Like, I am ready to dive headfirst into some fanfiction and read some sweet, sweet Nick scenes over and over again. If Nick was real, my fiancé would have some real hard competition. Do you get what I’m saying here? I have feels for Nick in the worst of ways, and it is probably not healthy. NICK was the BACKBONE of the whole shebang, and what does King decide to do after he birthed this magnificent human being into existence?

He fucking explodes him into a gazillion pieces.

LITERALLY — Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Stephen King took my heart and crushed it like a stale cigarette.

If I ever have the chance to meet him again and actually talk to him, I’m going to have some strong words.

I recently wrote a post in a Stephen King group about this very same topic, to which I got a multitude of responses. Most people agreed with me, so in that aspect, I’m glad I’m not the only one who felt real attraction to a fictional character. I’m also worried about what that says about us as a whole. I don’t think this is a normal thing. Like, I embrace it, but cautiously.

Some people told me basically to get over it, since it is a Stephen King book, and the man has a knack for killing off the most beloved characters. To that, I lovingly say ‘fuck off,’ because it’s not the same. Stephen King has a knack for killing off beloved characters in a satisfying way that gives the reader some closure. I would provide examples, but I don’t want to spoil any more stories than this one. Just take my word for it. I have loved other characters of his, and at the time of their death, while yes, I was devastated, I was also accepting of the fact. My favorite character is dead, but their friends are grieving with me, so it’s going to be okay.

A large handful of people agreed with me, that yes, Nick’s death comes out of nowhere, and yes, the characters did not grieve in the way I wanted. However, the part I was missing was the fact that these people had already experienced so much loss before Nick’s passing. How could I blame them for being numb to it all? And to that, I say…you’re right. Everyone lost their families, their friends, the people who were closest to them. Who had I lost? Who had the readers as a whole lost? Their best friend, Nick.

That speaks to me.

While I felt for (and maybe you did, too!) everyone who lost someone during the pandemic, I couldn’t take part in their pain. I only had a few pages of knowledge about the relationship between them and their loved ones, while they had a whole lifetime with them. I could only share in their pain when I lost someone, too. That someone just so happened to be Nick.

In the end of it all, I suppose I need to be grateful that King created a character so real I could almost touch him. He was made from nothing, and when he returned to nothing, I felt a hole where he once stood. That’s some powerful stuff. That’s why he’s one of my all-time favorite authors.

And, when it comes right down to it, I guess I hope that one day I can do the same thing. I hope that in my own writing, I can create someone that feels real, not just to me, but to another living person. I hope that I can illicit this outpouring of emotion, whether it be good or bad, like he has done for me and countless other people.

I think a lot of authors getting a feel for the ropes want to be famous. As for me, that’s not what I strive for. Don’t get me wrong, selling books to get by sounds amazing. However, in the end, I want to give what authors like King have given to me: an escape.

All that stuff aside, the book was solid. It had several likeable antagonists (Flagg, Lloyd, Trashcan Man), a couple of likeable protagonists (Nick, Tom, Gene, Larry), and some damn fine storytelling throughout. He did a fantastic job of showing the “bad guys” not as monsters who were all out for blood, but real-life people who were just as good as you or me.

As for a rating, I’ll give it an 8/10. You probably think I docked it because of what happened to Nick. You’d be wrong. This baby doesn’t get a solid 10 from me because I didn’t like Stu or Fran, and they got the most screen time out of anyone. They were the main mains, and I wasn’t here for it.

And Nick exploding didn’t help.

Before I end this off, I shared a couple songs when I finished The Dark Tower, and that was kind of fun. So here’s a couple songs that feel like The Stand to me.

This first one reminds me of Nick. It feels sad and a little hopeless, which is something I imagine Nick felt a lot of throughout his journey:::

And this one reminds me of the overall fight between good and evil in the story. It’s less sad, more angry. It’s something I associate especially with those in the Free Zone. Listen to the lyrics:::

Have you read The Stand? God, I hope so, otherwise you just got something big ruined for you. Who was your favorite character, and why was it Nick? I’m just kidding. But really, tell me who your favorite was. If it was Stu or Fran, please tell me what it is about either of them that tickled your fancy. My cousin loves both of them, and I just don’t get it. Tell me your thoughts down below!!

Book Reviews

Not All Who Wander…

Manda Kay

Let’s be real with each other. How many of us have screamed at the homeless? “Get a job!” “Get off my property!” “I’m calling the police!” I’d say there’s probably a good chunk of us who have. To an extent, it’s your right to. It’s your right to protect what is yours, and if someone pushes, no one would blame you for pushing back. How many of us have ignored the homeless? They sit out there day after day with their signs and you just look right through them. There’s most likely an even bigger chunk of us in that category. I’m part of the latter, myself. It’s easy for me to look through people in general. I’m intimidated by almost every person I meet, so that’s a normal occurrence for me. I won’t use that as an excuse, though. I won’t lie and say that the emotions that go through me when I walk by a nicely dressed stranger are the same as when I walk past someone begging for money. The homeless seem more threatening to me. Their willingness to ask for assistance strikes me as odd, outside the normal realm of human interaction. They will talk to anyone with little regard for how that person will react or what they will think of them.

And, honestly, I think that says more about me as a person than about them.  I think it says more about all of us.

Does society shun the homeless because they are an eyesore to the better off?  Or do they shun them because they are living better off than the rest of us?

Hear me out.

There’s a freedom associated with living on the streets. Who here hasn’t thought a time or two about running away from our job or family or responsibilities to just go do what we want when we want? You tell me no, and I’ll call you a liar. Think about it for a minute. True honest to god freedom. What does that look like for you? For me, it would be a lot of traveling to places I’ve never been, reading anything and everything I could get my hands on, and writing, simply for the joy of writing. It sounds appealing, and it’d be so simple to do. Just drive.

Just gimme something to read and some food and I’ll be golden

So then, if it’s all good and well, what stops us from taking the leap?

I think the things that stop me are the same things that stop a lot of us.  I hate having a mortgage, but I love having a roof over my head with heating and air available to me whenever I want it (in exchange for a higher electric bill, naturally).  I hate having a 9-5, but I love the steady income every two weeks.  Knowing when my next meal will be and having the luxury to be picky is something I can’t imagine life without.  I have dogs that need spoiled, a wedding to plan, and, while I normally don’t think of myself as high maintenance or materialistic, there are things out there that I look forward to buying or viewing or consuming.  

Letting go of responsibility and throwing caution to the wind sounds lovely, but I’m just too damn comfortable.

I never really thought about homelessness and what all is involved with it until I read the book Those Who Wander: America’s Lost Street Kids by Vivian Ho. In it, Ho takes a critical look at the homeless, street kids in particular, and seeks to offer insight as to why some choose to live on the streets, and why others can’t get off them no matter how hard they try. She interviews street kids of all ages and creeds and walks of life, from the wanted to the unwanted, the sane to the mentally ill, the criminals, the innocents, and everyone in between. Ho takes her work to the next level by interacting with them in their own environment, whether it be taking a walk with one street kid in the park, or attending a convention of sorts with dozens upon dozens of homeless people on the beaches of California. The one thing they all have in common is a sense of community. Street kids, for the most part, look out for their own. It is truly a fascinating read that I would recommend to anyone interested in sociology or curious about the people who hold up signs.

Such a great cover, too – https://www.instagram.com/p/CDhfMXVg5O0/

I’m honestly not doing this book justice.  I think the biggest takeaway from Those Who Wander is this: Don’t be so quick to judge.  You never know the other person’s story.

That, and, maybe be a little nicer to your fellow man.  It costs absolutely nothing to be kind.

If I had to rate this, I’d give it a 10/10.  Vivian Ho writes in such a way that gives an unbiased look at the homeless youth’s way of life, and I am here for it.  After reading every chapter, I’d put the book down for a moment to absorb what I just read.  She tells their stories so carefully, no details spared, and she includes her own previous biases and how the people she met morphed her to understand where they were coming from.  This book is absolutely incredible.

Alright, void I scream into, you know the drill.  Your turn.  Tell me about a time you helped someone less fortunate than yourself.  Gimme some feel-goods.

Book Reviews

Light and Dark, Good and Evil, Yin and Yang

Manda Kay

Have you ever lived in a haunted house?  Would you know if you did?  Do you believe in ghosts?  It doesn’t matter.  They don’t really care.

This time around, it was a true story about a true haunting you’ve probably heard of even if you aren’t into the stuff.  It happens to be the inspiration behind the A-lister horror movie, The Conjuring.  That’s right.  The clap-clap ghost. 

At least that’s how I remember the movie.

Since then, it’s been the subject for paranormal investigators, including Ghost Adventures doing a special on the house and the haunting within its four walls. I’m talking about the book House of Darkness, House of Light, written through the eyes of Andrea Perron, one of the sisters who lived through the haunting and saw firsthand its effect on her friends and family members. It’s the first of three in the series, and if the other two are anything like the first, I’ll likely read them in the future.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CBjwvVcALVw/

So a quick little spoiler-free rundown of what to expect if you decide to take this on (which I hope you do):  There is a family with so many girls that I honestly had trouble keeping track of which one was which (but names confuse me anyway and I have a hard time of keeping track of characters when there’s more than one or two so that’s my own shortcomings).  They have some issues where they live, so they move, if a little bit unwillingly at first by all parties.  A nice old man holds the house of their dreams for them, and things seem too good to be true.

And then, out of nowhere, flies.  So.  Many.  Flies.  Things move, sometimes when no one is there to witness, other times in front of an audience.  Whispers in the room when the house is empty.  Figures standing in the shadows.  You know, your general haunted house rigmarole. 

What sets this book apart from the rest is the way it’s written.  I have a soft spot for prose written like poetry, and that’s what this is.  There is so much description that it makes me feel like I’m there with the family experience every movement and every sound for better or worse.  Also, I feel like personal experience hauntings are a dime a dozen, but there are a very small handful that have had such a huge impact on not only paranormal investigations, but on the entertainment industry of today.  There’s ghost stories.  And then there’s hauntings.  You feel me?

Spooky scary spooky scary – Photo by Ryan Miguel Capili on Pexels.com

My only complaint about the book is there was no ghost clap-clap ghost, and my spooky little heart wants to believe that the clap-clap ghost exists and isn’t just a cheap (albeit good) scare for the silver screen.  Granted, there’s more to the story that I haven’t touched yet.  The clap-clap ghost could be real still.  Or I could just be remembering the movie wrong.  If I am, hey, Hollywood, wanna make a movie about spooky clapping?  😉

If I had to rate it, I’d give this baby a straight up 9/10. So much more good than bad in this one.

And now, I turn to you, void.  This time, I have an unrelated question.  Do you prefer these book reviews to be short and sweet like this one?  Or would you rather me go more indepth like past reviews?  I’m genuinely curious.  I’ve been doing this for a year, and I still don’t really know what I’m doing.  Thoughts?  Questions?  Complaints?  Want me to shut up?  Get in the comments below, or send me an email.  Let’s be friends!  Or enemies.  Or frienemies! 

Book Reviews

You’re as Cold as Ice (These are my Confessions)

Manda Kay

Sleazy deals.  Vicious murders.  Sharp clothing.  Crime bosses and the high life.  Who doesn’t love a good mafia story?

Philip Carlo had the privilege of interviewing the notorious Richard Kuklinski—The Ice Man—before his death in early 2006.  He compiled the man’s story into a book that has since been made into a movie by the name of The Ice Man: Confessions of a Mafia Contract Killer. 

And hot damn, is it a good read.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CAfqD-ogso5/

Richard goes into detail of not only the atrocious murders he committed both for the mafia and for his own kicks, but also delves deep into the life he led before he was a house name in the underground.  The reader gets a good look at the man behind the killings and a glimpse into the disturbing way the mind of a sociopath works.

The book talks about his home life growing up and the hardships he faced between an almost absent mother and a mean drunk of a father, pointing out where in the mess of childhood trauma his life took a turn and led him down the path of cool hatred and hot tantrums.  He recalls his first kill as a young boy and the satisfaction he received from getting away with it, and his fondness for bloodshed by any means necessary only grew.

Richard was enthralled with crime and indeed almost all the reading he willingly did was books and magazines about just that.  He was interested in the different ways people committed heinous acts and what they did wrong that ultimately got them caught.

Does that sound familiar, void? 😉

That’s right, I see you, you serial-killer-in-the-making – Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

As he grew older, he met his wife, Barbara, and started a family with her with the intention of turning his life around.  But every time he tried, he’d get an itch that an honest day of work couldn’t scratch.  He couldn’t keep up with bills and Barbara’s expensive tastes on his daytime salary, not to mention his excessive gambling tended to get him into trouble.

What better place to turn than to the people who pay you the big bucks to do what you love?

And, fuck, he was damn good at what he did.  He experimented and perfected all sorts of different ways to kill people, whether the method be knives or guns, rats or his own fists.  But poison, oh, poison was something on a whole other level.  Chemicals were one of his favorite toys, and his love for them would eventually lead to his demise.

I’m not going to spoil it for you.  There is a TON of information in these 400 pages to digest, and it’s worth every minute.  Some chapters are rougher than others just for the sheer brutality, but it’s a fascinating read, and definitely something every true crime buff should pick up. 

If I had to rate it, I’d give it a 9/10.  The only reason for this is some points about Richard’s life they repeat over the course of several chapters.  Certain ideas that the author wanted to really drive home, like the fact his family never had any idea about what he was doing, could have gotten away with being mentioned once or twice instead of repeating basically the same paragraph again and again and again.  However, if I were just casually reading it here and there (you know, instead of shoving my face in it all at once), I would have appreciated the reminders, so I don’t judge it too harshly on that point.  All in all, it was a damn good read and if the mafia piques your interest like it does mine, you’re going to love it.

Alright, void I scream endlessly into: Who is your favorite true crime villain?  I gotta say, before all this it was John Wayne Gacy.  But after reading this book, I don’t know.  I think Richard Kuklinski is a close second.  His mind is horrifying and I am here for it.

Uncategorized

here we are now ENTERTAIN US

Manda Kay

Ladies and gentlemen of the void!  It’s been a while since a good-ol’ book review, hasn’t it?  I mean, part of it is because of life happening, which, yanno, happens.  But part of it is because of something as simple as this: some books you gotta take your time with.

Enter Prozac Nation.

This lovely piece of nonfiction literature was a trip and a half.  It features a girl who is unforgivingly and unapologetically set in who she is for better or, mostly, for worse.  Her emotions are raw and ugly and so fucking real.

And I couldn’t help but see a little bit of myself in her.

And I hated it.

If you ever wanted a preview of what my next book review is going to be, you can follow me on instagram. – https://www.instagram.com/p/B6_6mevgxUT/

The book is a memoir of the young life of Elizabeth Wurtzel, who deals with long bouts of depression that is more often than not absolutely debilitating.  Wurtzel doesn’t waste time trying to romanticize the disease.  Instead, she gets right down to the dirty details of what makes depression such an awful invisible illness.  She dives headfirst into the terrible things she does to those around her, and the equally terrible things those same people do to her.

Every person in the book is a double-edged sword.  Just when you think you might start to like them, SWIGGITY SWOOSHY they slice everything you thought you knew about them away to reveal the monster underneath.  There’s something to take away from that, I think. 

Let me back up a little bit and explain.  Wurtzel, whom I most identify with, has a knack for being what some would call ungrateful.  Hell, you know what?  Wurtzel didn’t sugar-coat a damn thing in this book, so why should I?  I think she was ungrateful for a lot of the things handed to her.  Her mom put her through college, and my student loan debt is envious of that.  She was able to go to London for a few months, and the lack of funds I have is super envious of that.  She got to work somewhere where she wrote for a living and screwed off over half the time, and my life choices are uber envious of that.  Like, the fuck, you have so much going for you that people like me can only dream about; why exactly are you depressed again?

But know what?  That’s some class-A depression right there.  You have a mountain of good but all you can focus on is the grain of bad.  Or you can’t focus on any of it at all.  You just exist, and it’s pointless. 

Double-edged sword.  She is ungrateful, and that makes her unlikeable, but she knows she’s ungrateful, and that makes her relatable.  I can relate to her so hard in all of her seemingly selfish actions and obsessive mind acrobatics. 

ESPECIALLY the obsessive mind acrobatics. 

At one point in the book, she gets herself a boyfriend.  A real, bonafide boyfriend (haha jesus christ) who is more than a one night stand, who is more than a few week fling.  She’s got him, and they go steady together, and when she falls she falls hard and fast.  I can’t judge her for this, mostly out of being in a different but vastly similar situation a time or two.  I used to blame it on being young and stupid, but as I’ve grown into an older, adultier me, I think it’s less to do with being young and more to do with holding onto that one glimmer of happiness so tight your knuckles pierce through the skin (what a fucking image, am I right?).  When you live in the dark for so long, the moment you get a ray of sunshine you chase it down and embrace it until it snuffs out of existence entirely.

Anyway, so they are going steady for a bit, and she tells him all the reasons why he shouldn’t be with her, and he assures her he’s going nowhere.  Same lie that’s been told a million times by billions of people, mind you.  But he’s convinced her illness is a quirk or a phase or adorable or some other atrocity, and she’s convinced he’s going to leave her forever the moment he lets go of her hand (a slight exaggeration, but the point still follows).  She does the crazy girlfriend bit.  You know the kind I’m talking about.  Calling at all hours, showing up unexpectedly under the guise of surprise but everyone knows it’s because she just wants to keep tabs on him, getting lost in a whirlwind of negative thoughts about him and herself.  It’s crazy.  She knows she’s acting crazy.  But the whole thing is compulsion; she just can’t stop herself.

And the more you try not to act crazy, the more crazy you act – Photo by Jonathan Andrew on Pexels.com

I can relate to the same degree of obsessive compulsive behavior.  Like I said, different situation, but same general idea.  High school was a lonely, confusing time for me, and so I latched onto my best friend like she was a lifeline.  At the time, I think she was more mine than I hers, and I don’t think it had much to do with her not liking me and more to do with I was smothering her.  I won’t go into specifics on that, but I will say that one particularly bad day when I was left alone with my thoughts and my mind went dark, I called her house at least twelve times.  This was before everyone had cell phones, so it was the landline, and her parents were home.  A few times, her mother picked up, and assured me she would have her call me just as soon as she woke up.  But another hour would go by, and I’d ring the line again, and again, and again.  It was stupid.  It was crazy.  I knew it was crazy.  But I kept doing it anyway.

Mental health is kind of funny that way.

Prozac Nation was an all around good book, but one that required lots of breaks in between the pages.  That has nothing to do with the readability of it I don’t think.  It all flowed well, and it held my interest from the first page to the last.  I can only handle so much truth in one sitting.  Overall, I loved it.  It’s the best book about depression I’ve read to date.  It gets a solid 10/10 for me.

So, question time: Have you ever read a book you had to put down because it was too close to home?

Uncategorized

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Manda Kay

If you thought I was done gushing about Joe Hill, hooboy were you wrong.  I finally got around to reading Strange Weather, a book composed of four different stories, and I just…

Damn, dude.

That cover art is so bad ass, too – https://www.instagram.com/p/B4svFOOACAP/

Let’s get this started.

So first off, this is my first signed copy of one of his books. It stayed in a curio cabinet where I had the beginnings of a collection going (Stephen King’s End of Watch among the small stack that has since grown). I was not one of the lucky few who had a doodle sketched by his name, but it’s still special to me nevertheless.

And now I need more – https://www.instagram.com/p/B4svZrygVLA/

The book is comprised of four shorts, each one taking place in a different season, and I use season loosely here.  Each has its own tone, its own quasi sort of personality.  It’ll leave you feeling scared of the unknown, then terrified of the world we live in.  It’ll bring you up to the top of the clouds, then plummet you back to the world below without anything to break your fall but the cold, hard ground.

Friends.  I loved this book.

The first story, Snapshot, follows a boy who after a brief altercation, has to watch his back against the man with the weird camera that snaps pictures of the past by sucking up memories. Hill has terror down to an art. I haven’t been so scared to turn the page since I read Heart-Shaped Box, another goodie written by Joe Hill. And god, the ending! A beautiful twist to an otherwise frightening tale.

American productivity would nearly double if everyone were free to work pantsless. Words to live by.

Things take a turn in Loaded, when a terrorist attack isn’t all it appears to be.  It was a total edge-of-your seat thriller where the villains are in the wrong place at the wrong time and the heroes have their own agenda.  The story is not for the faint of heart.  There is no happy ending, but like real life, there will be no happy ending until a solution to mass shootings is found one way or the other.

The third short, Aloft, plays with the question we’ve all had at one point in our lives or another: What if we could walk on clouds?  A young man—unwillingly—finds out that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be after a sky-diving accident.  He’s stuck a few miles in the air, and the only way off this ride is a suicidal jump to the surface.  Freezing, starving, and oh so thirsty, will he have the courage to find a way out?

Rain takes place at the beginning of a dystopian future, where rain falls from the sky as long, sharp crystals that tear families apart—both figuratively and literally.  A young woman’s girlfriend is torn to pieces by the needles right before her eyes, and she is determined not to let the loss break her.  She must find a way to survive this new world and the anarchy around her.

What can I say?  Each story had strong characters that you wanted to either watch succeed or witness their ultimate demise.  The thought-provoking themes forced you to put the book down and process what you just read before moving on to the next.  Some collections of short stories stay with you for a moment before floating on by, out of sight, out of mind.  The collection in Strange Weather, however, stick.  And yeah, it could be because there are only four stories in there, but I take into account that I finished this book almost a month ago before having the time to sit down and write out something other than word vomit (which this probably still is let’s be fair here), and I still remember what I read.  I still remember how each story made me feel.  That’s some good writing there.

All in all, I’d give this collection 10/10.  Snapshot was hands down my favorite; I’m a sucker for supernatural horror.  It was a damn fun ride, and I can’t wait to read his next collection (also sitting in the curio cabinet). 

Have you read Strange Weather?  Which one was your favorite?

Uncategorized

My Sin, My Soul

Manda Kay

Sometimes, you don’t just come across a book as much as it’s thrown your way in disgust and beauty and intrigue, and every time it comes close, you step to the side and let it bounce on by for the next person to deal with.  I don’t know if it was lack of time or desire that made me shrug off Lolita.  I would say the sketchy subject matter scared me away, but I’m far from the type to shy away from heavy subject matter, and even less the type to give up on a story because of a revolting narrator.

Let me come clean.

I didn’t just happen upon this in a book store. I wasn’t lead by a friend or colleague in the natural sense that most people find their next novel. I was directed to Lolita by none other than Pewdiepie, in one of those rare book club videos. Yup, that’s right, folks. I’m a nine-year-old. Fight me. (But don’t, seriously, because I am but a weak almost 30 year old who doesn’t know how to fight and conflict makes me feel icky.)

https://www.instagram.com/p/B3dK_YZAWPk/

The point is I knew Lolita existed, but I never cared enough to read it.  And now, after the last page, I wish I had read it sooner.  Or if not sooner, I wish I had read it with a group so I could talk about it with someone and hear other’s thoughts about it as a whole.  And since my book club doesn’t read the same book, I’m just here shouting to the void about this.

That’s you.

You’re the void.

Love you 😉

I’m getting off track, and I’m not even sure if I was on track to begin with.

I think the one thing I said to every person I told about this book is that it is one of the most horrible things I’ve ever read, but it’s written in such a way that it’s beautiful.  It’s poetic.  The words flow like a sick, twisted lullaby. 
It’s a sick man’s love story, in a sick way.

The narrator, “Humbert Humbert,” is as unreliable as they come, but damn does he weave some attractive lies.  Every bit of it is poetic.  He refuses to curse in the majority of the book, and I find it…oh, not ironic, but…odd, given the atrocious things he does to Delores.  He’ll touch little kids, but Lord forbid he say anything about blowjobs.  Aristocratic.  That’s a good word to describe him.  Snobbish.  That’s another one.  Narcissistic. That’s even better yet.  He’s full of himself, but the way he words his thoughts makes him likeable.

The reader really gets a sense of who the main character is, and even if he writes under an alias, he is unapologetically himself.  It makes him feel real, you know what I’m saying?  He doesn’t feel like some throwaway character for plot’s sake.  H. Humbert is a real, living, breathing person, and how well he is written is both captivating and terrifying. 

I.  Loved.  This.  Book.

So, the unreliability.  Let’s touch on that.

H. Humbert is a lot of things, but humble is not one of them.  He is supposedly a good-looking man, and knows as much.  Women fall at his feet everywhere he goes.  Especially women who are well out of his league, him being the better off, of course.  And Delores, his dear Lolita, hoo-boy.  He was a hot knife, and she was butter (you like that comparison?).  She was a squeaky door, and he was a can of WD-40 (yeah that’s right they get worse).  He’s a cunning, sly man who has everyone playing in the palm of his hand.

Or is he?

Picture definitely related – Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Humbert’s first wife cheated on him with another man, likely because of his superiority complex (and the whole slapping her around thing).  His second wife, while enamored with his looks, inevitably saw him for who he was, and things fell apart from there.  I’m not saying that he’s not a looker.  I’m just saying maybe he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is.  His version of his attractive self isn’t necessarily the version that everyone else sees.  As for Delores, he has the reader believing that she is just as in love with him as ever, that is, up until the end, where it’s revealed that perhaps he took advantage of her more often than not.  He admits to feeling bad about this, but he would go to embrace her and attempt to right all his wrongs, but soon enough he’d be right back at it again whether she wanted to or not.

That’s rape, folks, and not just the statutory kind.

The final point I’ll leave up in the air, mainly because I don’t want to give anything major away.  All I’ll say about it is not everyone is quite who they seem, and honestly, the brute isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.

But damn, if it isn’t a fun ride along the way.

All in all, Lolita is about a bad man who does some bad things, but he does them oh so good.  It’s a terrible subject matter, but it’s written in such a way that is tasteful.  If you’re looking for graphic sex scenes, first of all, that’s gross she’s like a baby, and second of all, this isn’t the book for you.  If you’re looking for an in-depth character analysis on how fucked up a guy can get, and a glimpse of how the mind of a pedophile works, you came to the right bookstore, sir. 

Ugh, that’s the thing, though, isn’t it?  It’s a messed up book, and we aren’t supposed to like those things because apparently that, in turn, makes us messed up, yeah?  A sort of promotion of bad things.  Yeah?

*insert pewdiepie stop noises here* – Photo by Fabio Lima on Pexels.com

Fuck that.

That’s the beauty of fiction.  Hell, that’s the beauty of art in general.  We read books about pedophiles.  We watch movies with graphic violence.  We purchase art of…asdfghjk; insert vile act here, am I right?  And that’s the thing of it.  It’s fake.  It’s make-believe.  It exists, but it also doesn’t exist.  You feel me on that?  Just because I couldn’t put that book down doesn’t mean in any way shape or form that I think what the character did was okay or justified or anything of the sort.  Just because you watched all the sexy/rape-y glory of Game of Thrones doesn’t mean you think any of it was an alright thing to do.  And hey, just because that basic bitch loved Fifty Shades doesn’t mean she’s an advocate for…what…sexual abuse or some shit?  It doesn’t.  That’s art, folks.  If it’s not making you uncomfortable, what’s the point?

And now, I turn it over to you, the void in which I scream into.  What’s the most fucked-up, depraved thing you’ve ever read or watched?  

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Perfect Imperfection

Manda Kay

Have you ever powered through a string of books that felt meh and slow and ultimately unsatisfied, and then you get one that you read in less than a week that captivates you from the first chapter and keeps you at the literal edge of your seat (chairs in the break room are very uncomfortable) (gotta change up the weight on the ass fat or it goes numb) (tmi?) until the very end?

Asking for a friend.

Almost Orgasmic 😉 – Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

This time around, The Perfect Child graced my inbox in the form of a free e-book from Kindle.  Written by Lucinda Berry, a trauma psychologist, it takes us through the day-to-day of a couple who decide to adopt a child who is just a little bit more than what they bargained for.  And by “a little,” I of course mean “a lot.”  Let’s be honest, there wouldn’t be a lot for me to asdfghjkl; about otherwise.

Are you ready for the shortest, most vague review ever?  Because I don’t want to spoil a thing.

This book switches between three points-of-view: Chris, Holly, and Piper, as they retell their experience with a little girl named Janie.  Janie is first found in a parking lot, where she is taken to the hospital Chris and Holly work for care, and they fall in love with her for moment one.  But not everything is as it seems.  As the story draws to an end, the truth behind Janie’s past is revealed, and nothing will ever be the same again.

And that’s it.  That’s the most direct I’m going to be with this thing, because honestly, the book is a rollercoaster, and it should be experienced as such.  Hell, the blurb itself is vague, which could be seen as both a good and a bad thing, as is evident on the reviews.  Of the ones that I read, most all negative feedback revolves around the idea that the reader didn’t know what they were in for, and there were scenes that were hard for them to get through.  I didn’t find one that insulted the author’s writing style or anything of that nature (which doesn’t mean there isn’t one lurking there, I just didn’t care enough to dig when I disagreed with what they were saying).

One thing I will draw attention to is the cover, just so if you decide to read it, you aren’t thrown off.

Look at that hand holding the balloon.  Look at it.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B20L-pSA-0v/

Is there anything about that hand that says teary-eyed drama?  Is there anything about that hand that says feel-good love story?  Is there anything about that hand that suggests the story is soft in any way, shape, or form?

No.

That hand, ladies and gentlemen, is a claw: all joints and nails, grasping at something that should be handled with care, unless you want it to pop.

That hand is the whole reason why I chose this book, and damn, am I ever glad I did.

On the whole, I would be as bold as to give The Perfect Child a solid 9 out of 10.  My only criticism is I wish there was more to the ending.  I am a fan of learning more about Janie’s past, yo.

What’s a book that’s taken you by surprise?

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We’re Not Okay

Manda Kay

Sometimes a book takes you by surprise.  The pages speak to you, laying everything out and leaving nothing unturned.  You read, and you have to take breaks in between because there is so much familiarity that it’s dizzying.  It speaks your truth, unabridged and unfiltered.

That’s what this book was for me.

https://www.instagram.com/p/ByYw60sg-ZY/

I’m Fine and Neither Are You.  This one was another freebie from Amazon Prime.  To be honest, I didn’t read the description when I chose it.  I liked the title.  To me, it captured the theme of depression.  I feel like a lot of the time, people who are going through some stuff will say that they are just fine when really, they are so far from it.  A+ on that title game.

I only had one issue with the book, and it’s a little complicated.  I didn’t like the way it was written.

Let me back that up.

I think it was written the best way it could be POV-wise.  Third person wouldn’t do well to show the raw emotion the main character, Penny, goes through at the loss of her best friend.  It just wouldn’t be the same story.  I don’t think there was too much dialogue, and I think the pacing was good.  It was fine for what it had to offer.  My main problem lies in the fact that I did not like Penny very much as a character, and a big part of that is unfair to say on my part, because my reasoning isn’t a solid problem with the author’s (Camille Pagán, btw) writing style or voice or some editing issues or anything like that.

I didn’t like Penny because I saw a lot of myself in her.  And as everyone who knows me would tell you, no one hates me more than me (sometimes I’m joking sometimes I’m not but it is what it is).  So to see my own thoughts and worries and keeping to ridiculous expectations and losing battles just trying to keep the peace was, to me, disgusting.  Vulgar, even.  Problems I’m having in my own life are just laying there in print (or pixels if you wanna get technical on me) (pretty sure you can buy a physical copy of it, though) for the world to see.  Make sense?

Like looking in a mirror and I don’t like it – Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

That being said, while I hated the main character, I think she was well written.  I think the pacing of her mind in any given situation is right on par for what a real person (ahem, me) would be thinking.  Her insecurities and pushing boundaries and inherent need to get out of her current life are believable, and let’s be honest here, believability of a character is one of, if not the most, important element of a story.  I think it’s important to keep in mind that you don’t have to like the protagonist.  In fact, I think a semi-unlikeable protagonist is better than one everyone loves, if only because their character is usually more complex, and as a result, more interesting.  While I did not like Penny, she definitely piqued my interest.

Okay case closed we get it we get it.

There’s one more point I wanted to touch on briefly before closing this one out (minor spoiler alert):

Suicide.  Suicide and how it effects the ones around us.  Suicide and how hard it is to be upfront with what happened and how hard it is to cover it up.  While there is no real way of knowing whether or not Penny’s friend’s death was premeditated or just a bad mistake, it doesn’t change the outcome.  It leaves so many questions unanswered for the ones left behind, and it’s not fair for them.

I read this book when I was at a bit of a low point.  I was dealing with issues at work and at home and myself.  I was overwhelmed with the need to run away from everyone by any means necessary.  I don’t know if I meant to go down the road of considering self-harm yet, but left unchecked, I would have.  Life can get overwhelming when you set such a high standard for yourself, and if you’re left in your head for too long, things get messy.  It’s hard to explain what you need or the logic of your thoughts to anyone else, because that’s a mystery even to you.

I’m not going to say that this book saved me.  That would be a blatant lie.  But it did get my mind turning in a different direction.  Seeing my thoughts coming from a book from a stranger was a weird, tough love sort of eye opener.

Confused?  It’s okay.  Me too.

Overall, this book hit home in a lot of different ways.  It’s one that I’ll likely read again when I’m in a better place emotionally, namely to see if my opinion of Penny has changed at all.  I give the book a 7/10.  I give Penny a -5/10.  Just don’t like her, yo.

Have you ever read a book that you liked, even though you didn’t care for the protagonist?

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Just A Little Bit Hard To Swallow

Manda Kay

Two words: Murder.  Mystery. 

Unf!

Okay, so I’ll be the first to admit, murder mysteries aren’t normally the first thing I go for when I go to a bookstore.  It’s not that I have anything against them.  It’s moreso that I prefer my murder mysteries in a different medium altogether.  Murder whodunits go wonderfully on my television screen.  Printed on page, however, it tends to go on just a little too long for my liking.  I have a tendency to get bored halfway through and be tempted to just skip to the end to see if my prediction for who killed who is correct or not.  It’s like…get it done and over with already!

The Throat was so wonderfully different from what I thought it would be.  I had hopes it would be decent—the man wrote a couple books with Stephen King, so it almost had to be—but decent doesn’t quite cover what this experience was.  Peter Straub packed a punch with his characters, and managed to keep me guessing for 689 glorious pages. 

https://www.instagram.com/p/ByONw3AAUGe/

Any faults in this novel I am willing to assume is from my own misunderstanding.  By that, I mean that the book is actually part of a series, and I was unaware of such when I picked it up.  I mean, it said so right on the dust jacket, but I kind of just glanced over it before I said “Oh, yeah, this is the next one on the list for sure.”  A lot of my books are hand-me-downs.  Work with me here.

So, the faults.

  • Characters:  There was many.  Many cops, many witnesses, many fillers.  So many characters, in fact, that I had problems keeping them apart from each other.  Now, I’m not marking that as a hardcore problem.  Like I said, this isn’t his first book following the main character.  I could be missing something/confusing some people for others because the reader had a chance to get fully acquainted with them in the first novel.  Or there could just be that many people in the novel that I just can’t keep them straight.  It’s anyone’s guess at this point, really.  But, I’m going to give it the benefit of a doubt.
  • Timeline:  This is another thing I can’t bring myself to be too harsh about, not because of the benefit of a doubt but because my feelings as I read The Throat changed.  It starts with the main character, Tim Underhill, and his childhood, then moves on to him in Vietnam, where it focuses a good chunk of the story.  Then it jumps to several years later, when he is a successful writer and gets called back to his hometown.  Looking back, I can understand why it was all formatted that way.  It becomes clearer as you go, because certain pieces you can only understand if you’ve gone through his past, but for that first portion of the book, I was lost.  I didn’t know why any of it mattered or what any of it had to do with the serial killer I was promised an encounter with.  When so many people who write stories say that you should start as close to the end as possible, why were we starting from his early childhood?  The answer is obvious by now, but it wasn’t then, ya feel me?  The short of it: I drug my feet in the beginning waiting to get to a point where it wasn’t a dizzying chore to do so.
  • Walter Dragonette:  No spoilers.  I’ll just say he is super interesting when we first meet him then later on he completely drops off the radar and I’m still confused as to the real part he played in the story.  I liked him a lot, and while he was probably meant to be just a minor character, I would have liked to see more of him.  Plus, again, the situation with him is iffy as to what happens, and I don’t know if it’s ever fully explained in the book and I missed it, or if, like I said, he wasn’t meant to be anything but filler.  I don’t know how to elaborate without spoiling, so I’ll just leave that there.

Okay, enough with the bitching.  Mostly because I don’t have much to bitch about.  Here’s some of the strongest things I found in The Throat.

  • Tim Underhill:  Oh, Tim Underhill.  How I love thee so.  He wasn’t perfect, and that’s my favorite type of main character.  His loyalty lies with himself, which is refreshing in its own right.  He’s skeptical even of those he considers, or considered at one time, friends.  He’s not extraordinary in any way shape or form.  He relies on other characters throughout the novel to bring him closer to his end goal: find out who the Blue Rose killer is.  And the best part?  It’s not even his job to do so.  So many stories like this rely on telling it through the eyes of the detective in charge of the case, but Underhill is just a writer.  A writer who’s childhood friend’s wife was murdered.  A writer, who in all honesty, is there to gather new material for a book.  He’s not a bad guy, but he has his own priorities that others would find selfish or even shameful.  Which leads me to my next point…
  • False leads:  More reason to love him is that he doesn’t have the whole thing figured out chapters before the reader does.  He’s along for the ride just as much as we are.  Just like any other good murder mystery, there are plenty of false leads that Underhill follows whole-heartedly.  He believes each false trail, and because he believes it, the reader believes it as well.  He gets himself into trouble because he believes he’s doing the right thing, then he learns from his mistakes, and sometimes is at a loss of what to do next.  He’ll counsel with colleagues and friends and witnesses until he figures out the next step.  There aren’t just a couple of red herrings, either.  Peter Straub keeps them coming all the way to the end.  It’s a pointing fingers bonanza up in this shiz, and it’s wonderful.
  • No such thing as a happy ending:  I will not spoil.  I will not spoil.  I will not spoil.  But, what I can say, just as a blanket statement, is that my favorite type of ending in any story is when it’s not all wrapped up in a neat package.  I don’t mean ending on a cliffhanger or anything like that.  The pieces are all there and loose ends tied up, but the string is frayed and split and burned and the package has been tossed around by FedEx one too many times.  The insides are still there, mostly unharmed, but no longer pristine.  I’m a firm believer that in real life, there are no happy endings, and this book emulates that.  It’s an ending, and it’s a good ending, but it’s not the ending the reader might have wanted.  It’s like if you go up to someone who’s really made you mad, who totally has it coming, and you confront them about everything.  You think that once it’s out in the open, you’ll feel better, and maybe you do for a minute or two, but once it sinks in, you realize you don’t really feel better at all.  They are going to stop doing whatever it was they were doing to make you upset, and that’s good, but you might have said some things you didn’t mean to say, and you can’t take that back.  You don’t feel better, and maybe you even feel a little worse than before.  Is this the best analogy?  Nope, but we’ll roll with it.
Who is the Blue Rose Killer???? Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

TL;DR:  The Throat by Peter Straub.  10/10 would recommend.  10/10 would find the rest of the series.  10/10 changed my mind about how I feel about murder mysteries.  For real, though.  It’s an enjoyable read, and even if these types of books aren’t your forte, I recommend you give it a try.  Maayyybe try to find the first book, though.  I won’t guarantee it’ll make more sense, but eh, it’d make sense for it to make more sense.

Do you like books about serial killers?  What one would you recommend?