Where Black Stars Rise
Nadia Shammas
On one hand, the art style and the colors of this book do a magical job of mirroring the fractured nature of the characters and their experiences, including with mental illness and separation. I also loved the characters and the concept. On the other hand...the pacing felt a bit all over the place, with some early sections feeling incredibly slow-paced, and much of the second half feeling rushed. I wish it had been longer, with more development of the journey at the center of the book, or else with more focus on that journey rather than on the build-up.
It also has to be mentioned that the coloring of the print was a serious issue for me. Graphic novels can strain my eyes at the best of times, but there were a lot of choices here that made it worse than usual--yellowish-orange print on top of yellow background, black print on ink that's so dark it would stand in for black in another book (super-dark violet/blue), and dark grayish-lavender print on top of that same super-dark shading. This isn't to mention the sections of dialogue that were glossed over in a way that made them look somewhat faded (clearly a design choice and not a printing issue). All told, there were just far too many pages where I was struggling to read, even in good light, to the extent that I was taken completely out of the story. If I could figure out who made that choice, exactly, I'd probably avoid future works by them, though I don't think there's any way of telling in this case.
All told, I'm not sure where to end up with it or whether to recommend it, much as I loved aspects of it. I think I'd certainly look into the writer's future works, but I'd probably glance through a print copy in the store before bringing it home. I think I'll do the same with future GNs from the publisher also, in case that's where the design issue stemmed from.
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Lycanthropy And Other Chronic Illnesses
Kristen O'Neal
Packed with heart, humor, and incredible friendships--not to mention horror and transformation--this book is one of those that just sings with the power of storytelling, and it proves that any amalgamation of topics can be magic in the right author's hands and with the right concept. With all the horror I read, who would have guessed that my favorite werewolf novel would end up being speculative YA? With everything I read, who would have guessed that this would be the smartest book I'd read which deals with chronic illness? And with how picky I am about YA, and how much I normally get annoyed by the repeated inclusion of chats/messages, who would have guessed that they'd be a highlight of this book? Nevertheless, here we are.
O'Neal deals with chronic illness in a fashion that is real. There's no shrinking away from the pain or the difficulties, either small or large, but there's also no giant surplus of pity, as seems to so often be the case with books based on characters like these. Are there moments of pity from others and self-pity? Sure. But that pity doesn't take over the book or define the characters--not even for a moment. That's part of the beauty of this book. Yes, the main characters mostly deal with chronic illness, but the heart of the book is about friendship, growth, and, yes, lycanthropy and the difficulties of dealing with and/or being a werewolf. Chronic illness (of various types) is important to the story because it affects the characters, but since neither the author nor the characters define someone (or their abilities) based on illness, what arises from the storytelling is a story that simply seems real, werewolfs notwithstanding.
There's also a real effort here to make the messages and chats meet a careful balance. They're not so entertaining and pointed as to feel written by unreal characters just to make a book more entertaining. They're also not included just for the heck of it. They're important to the characters and the story, so they're here. That might not sound like a big deal, but to make chats/messages both feel real to a story and the characters' voices, and also to make them matter to a reader and call to mind the reader's own chat/friendships, is pretty darn magical as far as I'm concerned. I've certainly never seen it done so well as it is here.
And really, all this isn't even getting into the fact that the characters are so real, flawed and yet sympathetic and entertaining, and the page to page so suspenseful that the book is hard to put down.
If O'Neal had written ten books since this one, I'd be ordering them all right now.
I absolutely recommend this one.
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To the Bright Edge of the World
Eowyn Ivey
The truth is, I was aware of this book even before it came out because I adored Ivey's first book so much. But because the premise of this one didn't sound particularly appealing--I'm super-picky about historical fiction and don't read it all that often--I just didn't pick it up. But then I read Ivey's most recent book, and decided I had to try this one.
I'm so, so glad I did. This may be my favorite of Ivey's works now, though I've loved all of them.
To the Bright Edge of the World uses the epistolary form to the absolute pinnacle of its potential, focusing on the diaries and letters kept by husband and wife as he explores Alaska and she waits at home for him and attempts to learn photography while also dealing with personal matters and the sexism of the mid to late 1800s. Meanwhile, though, Ivey also brings in news clippings (perhaps expectedly) and, more importantly, some few letters from others, which I won't say more about for fear of ruining the surprise--but they add to the story wonderfully. Meanwhile, though, Ivey's gorgeous writing allows us to get to know the characters through their letters and diaries, and the form makes for fast reading which is all the more powerful as a result.
I absolutely adored this book.
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