The Decoy Princess Duo

Happy September people! So I may not be at Hogwarts getting sorted into a house (way past my time unfortunately), but I still have another review to share with you. Dawn Cook, also known as Kim Harrison, wrote The Decoy Princess and Princess at Sea. Although an enjoyable read, both books had a couple of things missing…

Firstly, the whole premise of the book is that there are people called Players who basically control their countries behind their monarchs – kind of like a power-behind-the-throne set-up. However, Cook does not quite explain this well enough. Simply mentioning this kind of power dynamic just wasn’t enough for me. I wanted details and illustrated situations to show me how these Players managed to control entire courts and countries without anyone realizing it. Yes, she does explain how they get extra-human powers and sixth senses through the build up of tolerance to a certain kind of animal poison, but those powers did not fully explain their ability to secretly rule and manipulate everyone around them. Furthermore, the heroine (Tess) receives training from her mentor (Kavenlow), but it all happens ‘off stage.’ As a major premise of both novels, I really felt like I needed more to work with in order to fully suspend my disbelief.

Secondly, both romances that Tess experiences are similarly flat. I simply did not believe the chemistry between Tess and Duncan, her card shark and accidental sidekick. It felt like Cook was expecting the reader to just accept that they had chemistry without really giving us convincing episodes of growing attraction. Yes, there are moments when Tess very blatantly is physically attracted to Duncan, but even she admits that she is inexperienced in this arena. In contrast, I think Cook developed the chemistry between Tess and Jeck (the Misdev captain and secret Player) much more thoroughly. They are thrown into highly emotional and stressful situations together and slowly learn how to interact successfully. The second novel ends in a pseudo-cliffhanger that left their romance half-baked though. Kavenlow, obviously a third party in this relationship, tells both Tess and the reader that Jeck is in love with her but that’s all we get. The book ends. And that’s it. Come on! Their romance was just starting to pick up when she decides to cut it off? That’s simply unfair.

So while I enjoyed both of these books, I ultimately wouldn’t recommend them. I was left dissatisfied by the ending, both plot-wise and romance-wise. Moreover, Tess as a heroine was simply not strong enough to pull of the kind of stunts that the plot required of her for me.

 

What did you guys think? Were you as dissatisfied as I was?

The Fight between Survival and Morality

Here’s the cover to David R Gillham’s novel, City of Women. I love how provocative it is – for me, it evokes both sadness and sensuality.

In David R. Gillham’s novel, City of Women, Sigrid Schröder starts out as the ideal ‘army wife.’ Berlin has become a city of women, children, the elderly, and the disabled – all of the able-bodied men have been drafted into the military. After her husband’s draft to the frontline service, Sigrid lives with her irritable and cantankerous mother-in-law, which only heightens her sense of claustrophobia. In order to escape, Sigrid finds refuge in the cinema and meets a man that changes her life just as much as the war does.

As the war builds, so do Sigrid’s secrets. This mystery man that Sigrid meets in the cinema becomes her lover. As if that wasn’t enough, this mystery man that Sigrid can’t get off of her mind is a Jew named Egon Weiss. As Sigrid lives her life in a slowly deteriorating society and city, she can’t help but become involved in the Jewish cause by hiding a Jewish mother and two young daughters, who she believes are her lover’s family.

Although the premise of a German hiding Jews during World War II isn’t exactly a new one, Gillham tackles this theme with gusto. In contrast with other authors, Gillham approaches his novel from a strong, liberated, and female perspective. Aside from her bold personality, Sigrid’s entire world is made up of women. She lives with her mother-in-law, she has strange encounters with her neighbors’ daughter, and she resides in a city that is bereft of men. Literally, everyone she meets, knows, and sees is female. And, as both the war and the novel progress, Sigrid transforms from an oblivious housewife into an aware critic of her government and her complacent community.

Interestingly, I found myself sympathizing with Sigrid despite her reluctance to involve herself in anything dangerous. In fact, Gillham made it very easy for me to understand why she resists joining the Jewish cause. Although I hoped that Sigrid would risk herself for those being persecuted by the Nazis, I still could easily understand her anguish and anxiety. It was refreshing to see how Gillham develops Sigrid’s changing psychological standpoint without writing off her initial reluctance as selfishness. Thus, Gillham constructed a protagonist that is complex, layered, and resistant to clichés.

The novel as a whole progresses in a slow burn, milking every moment of heart-racing suspense. It is most definitely not a fast-paced thriller, but I appreciated it even more for its unhurried pace. Gillham knows how and when to take his time, but he never allows the reader to become bored with the plot or the characters. His minute care in developing Sigrid’s character is especially impressive – by the end of the novel, I felt like I knew Sigrid intimately and like she had been telling me her story in person despite the third person narrative.

It came as no surprise to learn that Gillham was trained as a screenwriter. His description of an almost abandoned Berlin is impeccable. I could almost see the camera sweep across a scene of the city in a cinematic arc. With accurate and vivid historical details, Berlin itself became its own character, sometimes overriding Sigrid’s plot within its own inevitable trajectory.

The only aspect of the novel that left me dissatisfied was the lack of a glossary of German words. Throughout the novel, Gillham used German words in order to lend authenticity to his writing and to his reader’s experience. While most of the time I was able to glean meaning from the words’ contexts, I think that a glossary would have streamlined the reading process. I didn’t want to have to struggle with German words while trying to keep all of the characters and subplots straight.

Although on some levels City of Women is a simple book to describe in terms of Sigrid’s individual plot, it is really about the greater choices that must be made in impossible times. If good people act amorally in the name of self-preservation and survival, are they no longer good? If a bad man makes a righteous move, is he no longer bad? Even characters refusing to recognize their decisions is cast as a choice in and of itself. Thus, Gillham forces his reader to reconsider the fuzzy boundaries between right and wrong and our classifications of such actions and people. His details and artistically delineated dilemmas make City of Women a novel to be read and to be remembered.

 

Divergent Duties

So although there are only two of the three books published to date, I decided to forge ahead and read Veronica Roth’s Divergent Trilogy. The first two books, Divergent and Insurgent respectively, introduce us to a dystopian world of strict classifications, duty lines, and distinctions. While this world may not be the most realistic (no one is going to sit there and say “wow, this is really where our world is going to be in 50 years!”), Roth created an alternate reality that is both spooky and fun. Overall, I give the two books 3.5 stars. Maybe 3.75…

I can’t help but admit myself disappointed by these covers. I read both of them on my Kindle, so I didn’t see them until now…maybe a good thing?

Ok, let’s start with the spooky. First off, Roth makes it very clear that our heroine, Beatrice Prior turned Tris, is very very different. She does not fit in with her classmates, her community as a whole, or even her immediate family. Her closest relationship, which is with her older brother, is quite sad. All he does is show her up on being ‘the best’ in their community. And apparently, this separation from other individuals is typical of their faction, Abnegation (aka the act of denying oneself some rights, conveniences, etc. à more simply put, the act of being completely and utterly selfless). I know that heroes/heroines of dystopian novels are usually separated from most intimate relationships and interactions, but something about Roth’s descriptions makes Beatrice’s isolation all the more disturbing. She’s 16 years old and her entire world tells her that her very personality and way of thinking is wrong. Talk about screwing with some important development years.

Secondly, Roth’s construction of this dystopian world highlights contemporary issues of xenophobia. The entire society is set in future Chicago that is completely divided into different factions (Abnegation, Dauntless, Candor, Erudite, Amity, and factionless). It was interesting, though perhaps not all together convincing, to see Roth conceptualize a futuristic society that continually emphasizes categories, separations, and differences. She’s not exactly giving our world much hope here, is she?

But let’s jump to the fun parts now…both of the novels have loads of action, both the “on-screen” and “off-screen” types, if you know what I mean. Obviously, there’s a lot of fighting, both physical and verbal. When Beatrice chooses Dauntless over Abnegation at ‘The Choosing Ceremony,’ she has to change her entire outlook on life and embrace a part of her personality that she was forced to suppress previously. In this new faction, traits such as courage, fearlessness, and physical prowess are admired – so our characters’ pastimes include getting tattoos, learning how to fight and shoot guns, zip lining from ridiculously high places, and jumping on and off of moving trains. Basically, I would describe the Dauntless as a mix between a group of adrenaline junkies and a bloodthirsty gang. Although is bothered me that Beatrice, now called Tris, blindly accepted most of their truly idiotic behavior, it was fun to see her join in on the craziness.

As a whole, I would have to say that I have mixed feelings about these books. I’ll read the third just because I feel like I have to, but Roth left some major holes in her world building and her plot. I can look past the flaws in world building, but I happen to be really good at suspending my disbelief. However, there were some plot points that just left the reader confused and/or frustrated. And while I enjoyed Beatrice’s character for the majority of both books, she does get just downright annoying sometimes.

Ok, so I know I’ve left you guys with a less than clear review here. Let me try to clarify for you…I enjoyed my read a lot, but probably only because I was on vacation. I recommend it if you are looking for an easy, entertaining read and if you are willing to suspend your disbelief and just go with it.

Does that make more sense? Have I convinced you??

Dance Dance Dance – No Dancing Allowed

In Haruki Murakami’s novel “Dance Dance Dance,” there is no actual dancing. I see what you did there, sir!

This is my second Murakami novel and it did not disappoint. After reading “Kafka On The Shore,” I wasn’t sure that this one would live up to my first experience. Now, although I did ultimately prefer “Kafka,” reading “Dance Dance Dance” was a true pleasure. All of the characters are deeply detailed and honestly realistic in a world of magical realism. Murakami flawlessly molds these characters in a realistic world that just happens to have magical secrets, including a Goat Man, a high tech hotel with a between-worlds floor 16, and a prostitute that may or may not be dead/murdered popping up in Japan and Hawaii. Get it?

 

This may sound convoluted and confusing, and it is, but in a good way. Murakami exhibits his characteristic humor and surrealism in everything from his descriptions of capitalism to his characters’ individual quirks. However, underneath this lighthearted side lies a darker undertone that criticizes both urbanization and capitalism. Throughout the novel, the unnamed protagonist laments capitalism’s influence on everything from business to personal relationships. He is constantly commenting on this theme, both internally to himself/the reader and conversationally with other characters. He prefers his used Subaru to his celebrity friend’s Maserati. He prefers his small apartment to his ward’s father’s opulent home. And he prefers the rundown, small, dirty Dolphin Hotel to the fancy, huge, streamlined l’Hôtel Dauphin. He is representative of the working class in Japan, but diverges from the norm in his disdain for his work, seeing it as a means to an end that he doesn’t really appreciate, and in his difficulty in connecting with others. Although he encounters many characters in the 393 page novel, he really only establishes meaningful connections with three of them: firstly, a hotel clerk at l’Hôtel Dauphin with whom he falls in love with; secondly, a thirteen year old girl who transforms from a reluctant ward into a close friend; and thirdly, a childhood classmate and TV celebrity who shares the protagonist’s connection to a disappeared protagonist. Out of these three characters, I believe that the protagonist’s relationship with the thirteen-year-old Yuki (means “snow” in English) is the most meaningful. With Yuki, the protagonist finds a different kind of soul mate – although she thinks he’s weird and he thinks she’s spoiled, the two strike a up a friendship that catches both of them off guard. Yuki reconnects the protagonist to the world that he has fallen away from while the protagonist provides Yuki an escape from her majorly dysfunctional family. Together, the two bond over music and ultimately save each other from themselves and from their respectively failing lives.

 

After reading “Dance Dance Dance,” I was simply affirmed in my appreciation for Murakami’s style and writing aesthetic. His characters and descriptions are stunningly detailed and his portrayal of the protagonist’s mind and voice is both convincing and enthralling. I definitely recommend this read – you’ll get social criticism, psychological exploration, and humorous surrealism all wrapped up in one!

The Morgan Library, NY – Can I Have One Please?

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while, guys – I have been on vacation in New York. I’m pausing my vacation to write this because I just had to share an experience I had today…

This morning, I visited The Morgan Library & Museum. It was JP Morgan’s (yes, that JP Morgan) personal library. He built it as a lavish getaway from his hectic life and thus satisfied a lifelong passion for books and history. The displays are changing all the time and they usually have one or two special exhibits going on as well.

Entering his personal library is like walking into a king’s private quarters. The first room is decked out in red silk “wall paper,” personal portraits, artwork, and huge stone fireplaces. Mr. Morgan’s giant desk and red velvet chair sit grandly before more red velvet lounge chairs. I mean come on – who wouldn’t want a room like this?? The bookshelves are this gorgeous dark wood and are stacked with books on books on books – and I don’t mean regular, run of the mill paper backs. Every single book in his library (consisting of two main rooms and connecting room) is an historical treasure. I’m talking about first edition Gutenberg Bibles and manuscripts of Charles Dickens novels. But that’s just the regular bookshelves – attached to this first room is a secret vault (with steel, re-enforced doors and everything) that holds the really important stuff.

This is the vault in the first room – it is a lot larger than you can see here, going up another story and deeper in to the left.

So then we move into what I am calling the “passageway room.” This room is made completely of marble and it holds about three items on display at a time. Most exciting for me was to see a manuscript in Noah Webster’s own hand of the first ever English dictionary! His handwriting is like beautiful, if a little cramped, calligraphy.

Here’s a page from Noah Webster’s first manuscript – his dictionary is not only the first English dictionary, but it’s also the only dictionary ever to be compiled by a single person

And last, but perhaps most impressive, is the third room. This is where most of the books are stored. The room again houses an enormous stone fireplace, capped with a giant tapestry. The books are arranged on shelves in panel-like cabinets, covering the majority of the room and each of the three stories. Of course, the bookcases are protected by glass so that they can be better preserved in temperature-controlled environments. But as a stood there in awe, I realized something — there was no way to get up to the second and third floors! The docent saw me gaping like a fool and enlightened me thus…One of the panel-like bookcases actually doubles as a door! With a discrete handle and hidden hinges, this corner panel swung outward to enable access to a hidden stairwell that goes up to the top two floors and down to more book storage. I mean are you kidding me?? Unfortunately, only certain privileged staff members can open this bookcase-door-panel at certain times, so I could only see the stairwell through the small gap between the door and the perpendicular (and real) bookcase. What I did see reminded me of the passageway room – all white marble and dark wooden railing.

This gives you a view of one of the corner’s of the third room – as you can see, there is no external staircase. Behind my grandfather (the one that seems to touch his back) is the bookshelf that leads a double life as a hidden doorway to the secret staircase.

Another highlight in this room struck a personal chord in me. In the center of the room are display cases, which allow us Plebians to gain an intimate look into some of the books, sheet music, letters, etc. in the collection. On display today, side by side, were a letter written by Ernest Hemingway and an original manuscript of Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey. In his letter, Hemingway declines an interview George Plimpton, editor of The Paris Review, by blunting stating, “I might say ‘Fuck the Art of Fiction’ which would give a wrong impression as what I would really mean was Fuck talking about it. Let us practice it and shut up.” Amazing to see Hemingway’s characteristic bluntness written in his own hand!!

Hemingway’s letter – written on March 5, 1954. His handwriting is exactly as I expected!

Have any of you visited The JP Morgan Library & Museum? What’d you think?  What’d you see?? If you haven’t had the chance to visit yet, GO!! And then, GO AGAIN!!

Two Very Different Female Faces

Here’s an image from the TV Show “Legend of the Seeker,” which is based off of Goodkind’s series. Although decidedly different from the series, the show also portrays Kahlan (left) and Cara (right) as self-empowered individuals.

So fun fact about me – one of my favorite authors of all time is Terry Goodkind. And, one of my favorite series of all time is his “Sword of Truth” series. It has 12 absolutely incredible novels in it, all of which can stand on their own as compelling narratives but that come together to create an enthralling world filled with realistic characters. I hate to sound like a paid advertisement, but there’s a reason why, to date, Wizard’s First Rule (the first book in the series) is still the highest paid fantasy book from a first-time author.
This summer, I decided that I missed my “Sword of Truth” obsession and that I needed to reread the series. I have just finished the fifth book, Soul of the Fire – I am soaking the books up like it’s my job, spotting things and making connections that I wasn’t able to the first time over. And reading the books all over again has led me to some thoughts about the characters Goodkind created, especially the female ones…

Unlike most fantasy novels, the “Sword of Truth” series really has two protagonists, one of which is female. Thus, Richard Cypher/Rahl shares the spotlight with the Mother Confessor herself, Kahlan Amnell. Interestingly, Kahlan really almost provides the series with two different characters. As an individual, Kahlan is an intellectual and sophisticated woman who has had a privileged but hard life. She understands her professional role but still yearns for a more normal life. This side of Kahlan more adheres to female stereotypes – despite her professional ‘success,’ Kahlan more than anything wishes she could have the ‘normal’ life of falling in love and having a family. However, this more feminine sentimentality is balanced out by Kahlan’s other side…As the Mother Confessor, Kahlan is the epitome of female empowerment. She is unfazed by anything or anyone and she is the pinnacle of power in her world. Literally, her decisions and her rule outweigh any king’s, queen’s, or council’s. However, this side of Kahlan too contains an inherent contradiction. In order to maintain her power and influence, Kahlan puts on her “Confessor face,” in which she basically shuts down all of her emotions – this gives Kahlan a robotic, almost de-feminized aspect. On the other hand, Kahlan as a Confessor has her power because her touch is feared by all. By her touch, Kahlan can wipe out a person’s personality and individuality and replace their selfhood with unwavering and obsessive love for her. These two things, touch and love, seem decidedly feminine in that they are associated with maternity and female sexuality. Not to mention the fact that Kahlan’s official title is MotherConfessor – she is the symbolic mother of everyone in the

Midlands. In this way, Kahlan represents the contradictions inherent within everyone, but especially a female protagonist in a fantasy novel. She continuously battles her individual desires for love and motherhood with her professional duties and responsibilities. She is not some lovesick butcher’s daughter or some emotionally impoverished prostitute. She is a successful and courageous woman who provides the fantasy genre with an important model of realistic female empowerment.

Kahlan and Richard as illustrated of the cover of “Stone of Tears” by Terry Goodkind.

In contrast to Kahlan Amnell, Cara is not exactly a well-rounded female figure. Tortured as a child as training to become a Mord Sith, Cara is introduced as someone whose femininity was used against them – Mord Sith are women who were chosen as children because they were the most pure and the most innocent. The implication here is that the purest and most innocent aspects of femininity can be turned into weapons of mass torture and domination – not exactly the most stellar recommendation for female virtue. However, Cara (and the other Mord Sith) do exhibit an unusual aspect of female power – that is, female physicalpower. Cara is trained in combat but, with her Agiel (which is just a leather rod imbued with magic to give both the holder and the victim pain), she does not even need convention weapons. Cara can and does overcome multiple burly men at the same time with just her body. And although you might think that the Agiel gives her an unfair advantage, you have to realize that the second Cara touches her Agiel, it gives her the same excruciating and debilitating pain that it inflicts upon others. So, Cara is able to defeat soldiers and mercenaries and wizards while feeling continuous pain that literally drives men to their knees. Talk about role reversals. However, despite her physical prowess, Cara is emotionally crippled. As Mord Sith, she has been trained to forsake all emotional displays – everything from fear to love to hatred to pleasure. Only after Richard inherits D’Haran rule are Cara and the other Mord Sith allowed to be human, never-mind ‘feminine.’ But even still, it takes personal and directed attention from Richard to get Cara to slowly become more than an effective torture machine. Richard’s influence, although not coddling or condescending, does take on an almost patriarchal quality. He feels responsible for these women and wants to enable them to lead more normal lives. Importantly, Cara does not allow this. She obeys Richard’s commands when she feels like it – ultimately, she decides when and how she wants to act. So, as Cara becomes more and more human and less and less robotic, she actually acquires more power. On top of her physical power, Cara also gains emotional and personal power in her ability to choose and make her own decisions. So, I won’t ruin the series for you guys, but suffice to say that as the series progresses, Cara specifically demonstrates the progression from torture machine to human and from limited power to overall self-empowerment.

An illustration of Cara that was used on the cover of “Temple of the Winds” by Terry Goodkind. Here’s a quote from her…”If you get yourself killed trying to rule the world, I will personally break every bone in your body.”

Through these two main characters, Goodkind provides the fantasy genre with rare female figures – both battle inherent contradictions, but neither is truly ruled by the men in their lives and in their worlds. By reverting feminine stereotypes of weakness and submissiveness, Kahlan and Cara challenge not only Richard, but the reader as well. We, as readers, are forced to look at their counterparts in the fantasy genre and are ultimately left dissatisfied. As a female reader and a female fantasy fan, I can personally account for this dissatisfaction. I can’t even tell you how many fantasy novels I have read with these weak, pathetic female ‘heroines’ that bring nothing to the table but a tepid romance subplot. Finally, I have found two main characters, who just happen to be female, that actually progress the fantasy genre rather than just continuing its potential character stagnation.

What do you guys think? Am I being too hard on the fantasy genre? And do you agree with my analysis of Kahlan and Cara’s characters? Or are they not as progressive as I see them?

too true…

 

and it still amazes me that people under appreciate good, and I mean really good, writing

awesome quote

A child who can love the oddities of a fantasy book cannot possibly be xenophobic as an adult. What is a different color, a different culture, a different tongue for a child who has already mastered Elvish, respected Puddleglums, or fallen under the spell of dark-skinned Ged? — Jane Yolen

Religious Problematics – Hope Leslie as a Teenage God

Hope Leslie’s aunt, Mrs. Grafton, here shows the dual conception of femininity – she can be a fickle and shallow widow OR a powerful influence in social change.

In Hope Leslie, Catharine Maria Sedgwick presents to the readers multiple models of religion with varying levels of approval and advocacy. Aside from the clear disdain for Catholicism as embodied by Sir Phillip Gardiner, Sedgwick also confronts the faults in Puritanism, Anglicanism, Islam, and Native American Spiritualism. However, Sedgwick also includes a subtler version of religion in the form of Master Craddock, who literally worships at Hope Leslie’s feet. By including this version of unorganized and more physical version of religion, Sedgwick reveals the problematic nature of religion as a whole.

Throughout the narrative, Master Craddock is depicted as a senile old man whose greatest pride and pleasure is tied into Hope Leslie’s person: “Craddock was so absorbed in the extraordinary happiness of being selected as the confidential aid and companion of his favourite, that he would have followed her to the world’s end, without question […]” (321). Hope Leslie needs her tutor’s help in order to free Magawisca from prison and, after having been easily persuaded to join her in helping an unnamed friend, Craddock behaves more like a blind lapdog than he does like a tutor. He is consumed in blissful pleasure at the intimation that Hope desires his company and does not discern her unusual behavior in fleeing the house undetected. This happiness comes upon a passive Craddock, who revels in his having been “selected.” This language of selection is reminiscent of the Puritan conception of the Regenerate class, who are selected by God to be saved. Similarly, Craddock is described as an unquestioning follower, trusting in Hope and in his blind faith for her. Thus, Craddock is depicted as a zealous and devoted disciple and Hope as his prophet or even his God.

Moreover, Craddock proves to her that he would do anything for her, even when his actions go against his own moral code: “Such was Craddock’s habitual deference to his young mistress, that it was morally impossible for him to make any physical resistance to her movements […]” (328). Craddock’s following and trusting in Hope is so ingrained in him as a habit, that he is unable to stop himself from complying with her wishes, even when he knows they go against social propriety. This “habitual deference” echoes the regularity, consistency, and uniformity of religious prayer and behavior – Craddock’s immediate acceptance of Hope’s wishes is linguistically reflective of the Puritan’s recitation of scripture and strict adherence to manners.

Additionally, Craddock is physically powerless against Hope. As the dominant agent in their relationship, Hope is once again depicted as a God-like figure who has physical, behavioral, and perhaps even spiritual control over her follower: “[…] but neither his conscience nor his apprehensions for her, would permit him to be silent when he felt a conviction that she was doing, and he was suffering, an act that was a plain transgression of a holy law” (328). Despite his misgivings over her actions, Craddock is physically paralyzed and is thus unable to disobey Hope’s directives. However, Hope is unable to stop Craddock from voicing his misgivings, demonstrating his oral propensities and her limits as a God-like figure. Here, Sedgwick encourages the reader to pity Craddock and his powerlessness against Hope and, in doing so, paints Hope as almost tyrannical in her uncaring disregard for Craddock’s physical safety and emotional turmoil.

Therefore, through Craddock’s worshiping of an oppressive Hope, Sedgwick demonstrates that blind faith in religion is harmful and even dangerous to the physical and moral safety of its followers and perhaps that not all religions are able to provide the eternal guidance and deliverance expected of them.

Now, I wonder whether Sedgwick included this microcosmic religion as a warning or as a beacon – is it a warning against the dangers in blind faith and zealotry? Or is a beacon for feminist potential in her contemporary place in a world beginning to consider women’s rights?

Check this out guys – without physical bookstores in my area anymore (I’m pretty sure part of soul died when the Barnes & Nobles by my house closed), I have had difficulty finding new books that won’t flop three chapters in. I’m hoping this will help me find some worthwhile, quality books to read and share with you!