Mrs. Ram's Jams

Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3) by Brandon Sanderson—published 2017—1,246 pages—high fantasy—four stars: Curls into a little ball and covers her head out of fear for what she’s about to say—this isn’t nearly as good as the first two. Oathbringer starts slowly, focusing on Dalinar and flashbacks to flesh out the wife that he can’t remember. Shallan doesn’t appear until around the 70 page mark. Bridge Four isn’t featured enough, and because of this, Oathbringer lacks major comic relief to break up the monotony of the drawn out storyline and the focus on so many characters. Wit and Lift, who also add humor, barely grace the pages. Even though I thought the Szeth narrative was over, he made quite a dent in the book, as did his sword (who DID offer some funny bits). Three angry emojis, huffing puffs of air out, light up over my head every time I think of Moash. He broke my heart. Why hasn’t he been exiled to Shadesmar yet? I feel like a different major character should have died. Is Sanderson, unlike George R. R. Martin, afraid of killing off major characters? Teft’s character arc was also surprising, but beyond welcome. I’m looking to become a Radiant myself. Can I bond a winespren? The book’s last twenty percent picked up the pace, alternating between characters’ POVs more quickly building suspense, but the narrative had gaps because of it. I often read a passage and then had to reread it immediately because it wasn’t clear to me what had happened. AND I AM NOT OKAY WITH HOW THE LOVE TRIANGLE ENDED UP. Where was the ending cliffhanger? Book two’s cliffhanger made me want to start Oathbringer right away. And you knew I was going to say it—it’s too long. But only by about 300 pages—you know, like enough to fill a whole other book. 

The Last Thing He Told Me by Laura Dave—published 2021—320 pages–thriller—three stars: I understand if you adored this story; it has mass appeal, and Reese’s stamp of approval. And there are houseboats (fun!). A Theranos-esque tech scandal! A perfect husband who has a secret past! But, y’all. I know I’ll never be a novelist nor a professional writer, and I write yawn-worthy book reviews and teacher blog posts peppered with run-ons and incoherent rants, but I could not with Dave’s writing style. The Last Thing He Told Me told me nothing. The sentences lacked panache and complexity. Sticky words ran amok. Amok I tell you! Amok! I copied and pasted a sample of the first chapter into an online tool that checks grade level, and that sample came back on a fourth grade reading level. While I realize that section was a small piece, Dave constructs the rest of the book similarly. Comparatively, I ran a sample of Oathbringer through the same checker, and it’s written on an 8th grade level. This review you’re reading now is on a 7th grade level. According to multiple websites, the average popular novel clocks in on a seventh grade level. I need some lively writing anymore, and this was dead on the page. 

The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalila Harris—published 2021—357 pages—thriller—four stars: Wowza. How do I even describe this book? It’s a thriller, but also possesses a light tippity-tap of sci-fi. It’s been described as “Get Out meets The Stepford Wives” and has drawn comparisons to The Devil Wears Prada. I felt it’s more The Firm adjacent (at least I think. It’s been years since I’ve read the novel or watched the movie) except featuring Black women working in New York publishing. Hazel, the antagonist, reminded me of Candace Owens. For once in a thriller, the ending twist surprised the hell out of me. I enjoyed Harris’s writing style. But, I warn you, you might not like this book. The beginning is a little confusing when the different plot lines are still being fleshed out. I thought some of it was satire until the sci-fi element revealed itself. The conspiracy part was uneven. But overall, I enjoyed this read.

The Plot by Jean Hanff Korelitz—published 2021—336 pages—thriller—four stars: Two four star thrillers in a row? I’m, wait for it, thrilled! A has-been novelist, now third-rate MFA writing instructor named Jacob writes his former student’s bestselling book idea after finding out that his student is dead. Then the plagiarism accusations slide into Jacob’s inbox after the novel does indeed hit it big, and he realizes that maybe the plot that he thought was fiction actually was a real life thriller. I didn’t even hate the book within the book here y’all. 

This Is Not the Jess Show (This Is Not the Jess Show #1) by Anna Carey—published 2021—304 pages—YA thriller—four stars: Three four star thrillers in a row? I’m questioning life. Even though this novel rips off The Truman Show, I think teens would find it appealing because they’re probably not familiar with the famous film. (Does Gen Z even know who Jim Carrey is? Alrighty then; I’m old.)

The Comfort Book by Matt Haig—published 2021—272 pages—nonfiction/mental health—three stars: I want to like this nugget of a book more because who doesn’t love Haig? He’s always so candid about his mental health, and his novels are fantastic. Haig composed this book of lists and snippets and words of encouragement that he wrote when going through dark patches in his life and published it. And while some passages and sentences are beautiful, I couldn’t get it out of my head while reading that this book only got published because it’s Haig. A book like this wouldn’t get published by a no-name author. 

My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix—published 2016—337 pages—horror—three stars: I’m a mixed cassette tape of conflicting emotions here. This 80s-set horror story should tickle my I-grew-up-with-mall-bangs fancy, but the more Hendrix novels I read, the more I get upset that his protagonists are female. I’ve only read two of his novels, but he hyper-sexualizes those women and puts them in rape and unwanted touching situations with demons, and I can’t help but let out “ewwwwwwwwww” and mutter “is this necessary?” every time I see it on the page. And then he sets the stories in the past and is satirizing some aspects of the plot and it comes off to me like he thinks he can just write women that way because “that’s the way it was back then” but if he’s making fun of some parts, then it just comes off as white guy icky to me. I’ve got his newest sitting in my Libby queue, and I don’t know if I’ll be reading it. 

Talk Bookish to Me by Kate Bromley—published 2021—317 pages—romance—three stars: Kara writes romance novels for a living. The first draft of her next novel is due almost yesterday, and she barely has anything on the page. Her best friend’s wedding is coupled with her looming deadline. When her ex-boyfriend from college (the one who got away) shows up as a groomsman in the wedding, she has plenty of inspiration for her book, but will her heart get broken again in the process? This book is meh. There’s a book within a book here too, and it’s pretty meh as well. 

Craft in the Real World: Rethinking Fiction Writing and Workshopping by Matthew Salesses—published 2021—256 pages—nonfiction/writing—five stars: Very obviously this book is only going to appeal to a very specific audience, but I loved this book. I’ll never look at a novel the same way again, and I took away great tips for narrative writing and teaching narrative writing from this book. It makes me want to get my MFA in creative writing.

Survive the Night by Riley Sager—published 2021—324 pages—thriller—two stars: Finally! A terrible thriller! Is the writing decent? Yes. Are there pretty surprising twists? Yes. But this book took me over six days to finish and suffers from a man writing the female protagonist’s perspective. Charlie’s roommate was murdered, and Charlie, who isn’t coping well, drops out of school and hitches a ride back to Ohio with a man who she found on a bulletin board. Something seems off about him, but Charlie assures herself that it’s all in her head. She sees “movies in her mind” which seem real but aren’t further confusing her. She finally becomes convinced that the man driving her is the serial killer, and she decides she has to avenge her friend’s death. Charlie is an idiot. The end. 

Exciting Times by Naoise Dolan—published 2020—243 pages—contemporary fiction/LBGTQ+–four stars: Bends toward the literary and doesn’t have a conventional plot—so I understand why this is only rated 3.35 stars on Goodreads—but I quite enjoyed Ava’s love triangle with Julian and Edith.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter #6) by J. K. Rowling—published 2005—652 pages—YA fantasy—five stars: In earlier mini book reviews I didn’t write reviews of Harry Potter rereads because 1. I’ve read every single one a gazillion times and 2. Just saying J. K. Rowling’s name has been as bad as saying Voldemort aloud recently. I was worried if I typed Rowling’s name, Death Eaters would show up at my door. She’s as flawed as Snape, James, and Umbridge, and I don’t agree with her politics, but I love these books. And the reason I’m rereading right now is because I’ve been reading them aloud to Little Thing (before the controversy started), and she’s hooked. The books ARE magic. Watching her reactions to what happens in each book are gifts I will never forget. I’ll never forget how we had to stop reading when Harry used Sectumsempra because she thought Harry was infallible and he devastated her. How she giggled uncontrollably when Ginny and Harry kissed. I’ll never forget her anger at Dumbledore’s fate at the book’s end. I can’t cancel these books. 

The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix—published 2021—352 pages—horror—two stars: So, I read it anyway. And I hated it. That bloody foldable chair on the book jacket? It’s the best part of the book. I’ll never read another Hendrix book again. Again there’s a female protagonist that’s written in the first person who’s a victim and is fighting to be the last one standing in a group of victims, and Hendrix just needs to stop writing female leads. Much like the last Hendrix novel I read, he tortures women throughout the entire book and then tries to correct all the mayhem and harm in three sentences at the book’s end. So is there something symbolic about that? Maybe? But ugh. 

Refugee by Alan Gratz—published 2017—352 pages—middle grade historical fiction—five stars: I read this book for the first time last year while I was hospitalized during a U.C. flare and rated it four stars. I am not in the habit of rereading and rating a book higher than my initial reaction (And I reread it because I chose it as a new summer reading book for our 8th graders.) but. This. Damn. Book. Y’all. THIS DAMN BOOK. It’s so well done. Gratz tells the harrowing stories of three different children who are refugees. Isabel is escaping from Castro’s Cuba. Josef is escaping from the Nazis. And Mahmoud is escaping from Syria. And by the book’s end, all three stories come together. This is the kind of book that builds empathy in young minds and should be required reading. 

Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead by Emily Austin—published 2021—256 pages—contemporary fiction/LGBTQ+–four stars: Gilda, a lesbian atheist fixated on death, accidentally becomes a secretary at a Catholic church. Ohhhhhhhhh, this one. I love it. Gilda also accidentally dates a man because she’s too nice to turn him down. This book is FUNNY while being awfully serious about mental health. If you like books by Jenny Lawson, T. J. Klune, or Fredrik Backman, you’ll love this book. 

(All cover art taken from Goodreads.)

Alert Alert Alert: This list contains two “it” books that were huge misses for me, two fantastic LGBTQ+ books, and a Bill Gates-does-not-understand-farmers tangent. 

The Garden of Small Beginnings by Abbi Waxman—published 2017—368 pages—chick lit—two stars: Lilian, a widow of four years, isn’t ready to look for love again, but her family keeps encouraging Lilian to date. When Lilian’s boss forces Lilian to attend a beginning gardening class, her attraction to the class’s instructor blindsides her. Gah. That’s not a good gah. I love Waxman’s The Bookish Life of Nina Hill, and The Garden of Small Beginnings just doesn’t compare to how good Nina Hill is. The Garden of Small Beginnings is a garden that was planted without a plan. Waxman cultivates sprouts of funny writing in between the storyline’s confusing bramble of weeds though. 

I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness by Austin Channing Brown—published 2018—185 pages—nonfiction—four stars: Another important, enlightening social injustice read, but this time through Channing Brown’s eyes as a Black Christian working for evangelical nonprofits.  

Where the Grass Is Green and the Girls Are Pretty by Lauren Weisberger—published 2021—368 pages—chick lit/contemporary fiction—three stars: Not my favorite Weisberger novel? Weisberger stole the plotline right from the college admissions scandal, but instead of a Desperate Housewife as the protagonist, there’s a female morning news anchor, a terrible mash-up of Felicity Huffman and Matt Lauer. When I think of Weisberger novels, I think of overindulgent New York City glitz and glam, snappy dialogue, and subtle critiques of the upper echelons, melding together for a guilty pleasure read. Weisberger attempted all three here again, but the book tripped over its six-inch, red-soled Louboutins and fell flat on its botoxed/lip-fillered face on a sidewalk. The only highlight was me screeching “Take. Me. Home. Yeah-e-yeah” off-key and on repeat while reading. 

Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid—published 2021—369 pages—historical fiction—three stars: Unpopular opinion alert. This book didn’t impress me. It’s The Great Gatsby but set in the 80s and on the opposite coast with California surfers and Hollywood A-listers. I wanted to face punch every character, except for Tarine—because she DOES face punch a chauvinistic cop, my favorite part. The entire story was overdone and underdone simultaneously. All the familial revelations unravel on the same night at a cocaine-fueled party. Overdone. Chandelier swinging. Overdone. Mick. Overdone and predictable. And the underdone part? I guess that boils down to the third person omniscient narrator. Don’t get me wrong, Reid nails it, but she covers too many characters over too long of a time frame. It made the story feel underdone to me? Too sweeping without enough development. Definitely my year’s biggest reading disappointment. Will it be some people’s jam? Sure, but not a Mrs. Ram’s jam. Sidebar: Am I the only person who throws up a little in her mouth every time she thinks about how books set in the 80s fall under historical fiction now??????

Darkfever (Fever #1) by Karen Marie Moning—published 2006—309 pages—urban fantasy—three stars: After Mac’s sister is murdered while studying abroad in Dublin, Mac hops on a plane to investigate her sister’s death against her parents’ wishes. At first she doesn’t uncover many answers, but she soon finds herself in over her head when she discovers monsters lurking beneath human exteriors. When a hyper-masculine, dangerous man named Jericho learns Mac is poking her head around Fae matters and that Mac possesses special powers of her own, Jericho shelters her and makes her help him seek Fae objects of power. So real talk, I could easily rate this a four because it’s super engrossing and Jericho and Mac have ample chemistry, but 1. This urban fantasy didn’t age well—Jericho, when trying to warn Mac off, essentially tries to scare her off by using physical force, bruising her ribs, but also there’s sexual chemistry there? Did this type of thing really work in 2006? It sure as hell doesn’t work now, but also, I liked it? So? What does that say about me? And 2. Moning frequently describes parts of the story before she identifies what’s happening in the story. Does that make sense? I know it makes little sense, but it should.

The Bookshop of Second Chances by Jackie Fraser—published 2021—448 pages—romance—two stars: Thea’s world is shattered. She’s been sacked from her job. Her husband of nearly twenty years has been cheating on her with one of her friends. Forced out of her own home, she rents a flat and is about to move when she inherits a handsome sum of money and a house from a distant relative in Scotland. After Thea and her friend drive there to sort through Thea’s inheritance, she stays for the summer to sort through the mess of her life, too. She takes a job at a bookstore despite the boss, Edward, being a grump and normally unwilling to hire women—because he either falls in love with them or they fall in love with him. (Like, for real before he hired her he had a sign posted on the door that was basically the Little Rascal equivalent of the “He-man Womun Hater’s Club” sign.) She assures him that neither of those scenarios will happen—but guess what, it’s a romance so it does. I wish I could be glowy about this book, but it’s so terribly bland. I didn’t laugh once or find a sentence that I found endearing. Edward is estranged from his duke brother because Edward slept with every single one of his brother’s girlfriends and both of his wives for revenge for a teenage slight. TF? There are pages of literally nothing happening with lots of tiny words making up sentences—which I guess is why it’s a whopping 448 pages? This book is easily 150 pages too long. 

The Guncle by Steven Rowley—published 2021—336 pages—LGBTQ+ fiction—four stars: When his best friend/sister-in-law passes away, Patrick, aka GUP which stands for Gay Uncle Patrick, takes in his niece and nephew while his brother sobers up at at rehab center not too far from Patrick’s Palm Springs home. This book is adorable and hilarious. It has a The House in the Cerulean Sea vibe sans the fantastical elements. Ultimately it’s a novel about overcoming grief. It made me sob in three different places. Also, I will now forever be stealing and quoting this line from the book: You can’t spell nemesis without me sis. I need this on a T-shirt, stat! Who’s got a Cricut? 

Real Life by Brandon Taylor—published 2020—329 pages—LGBTQ+ fiction—four stars: Literary. Beautifully written. Doesn’t have a conventional plot, as in there’s one, and it’s vague, but it works. My eyes glazed over every time the scientific experiment descriptions happened. There’s hard-to-read gritty, graphic violence. Be prepared to be uncomfortable, but that’s real life, and the book’s point. 

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston—published 2021—422 pages—LGBTQ+ romance—three stars: (And at this point it will become obvious that I forgot I was supposed to write book reviews. Whoops. Taking that blog hiatus made me forget my process.) I feel like a lot of rotten tomatoes are about to be thrown my way, but I’m not a huge fan of McQuiston’s latest. August moves to New York City to finish her education and escape her wannabe private detective mother. A girl, all beat up leather jacket and 70s retro cool, snags August’s eye on the train, and the girl, Jane, magically is on every single train that August catches for her commute to school. After Jane turns August down for a date, August finds a picture of Jane from decades earlier, looking exactly the same as she does now, at August’s own workplace (hello happenstance!). Then August races against the clock to save Jane from being stuck in time. The writing charms and shines just like in McQuiston’s earlier novel, but the witty writing hides a whole lot of fluff. And I know I write this ad nauseam, but it was too long. And the plot was overly tied together. (I know, #brokenrecordstatus with this point, too.)

Bloodfever (Fever #2) by Karen Marie Moning—published 2007—303 pages—urban fantasy—four stars: What is wrong with me? I like book two better than book one. I texted a friend, who has read the series, and told her I felt deep book shame for compulsively reading this terrible series. Gah. On to book three?

The Ruthless Lady’s Guide to Wizardry by C.M. Waggoner—published 2021—371 pages—LGBTQ+ fantasy/historical fiction—three stars: The title? Badass. The cover? Same. Delly the protagonist? Hilarious, unassuming, and brilliant. She calls her mouth a gin hole and another character a foot cramp and makes up words that sound fancy and thinks things like: Not that she didn’t say worse six dozen times a day herself, but she’d always been under the impression that young ladies weren’t supposed to know what knickers were, even while they were putting them on in the morning. And Buttons the skeleton mouse that’s really an old wizard? He’s legit. But the storyline though? Bizarre, which sucks because it breaks the book. 

Faefever (Fever #3) by Karen Marie Moning—published 2008—327 pages—urban fantasy—three stars: Well, I’m taking a pause from the series after reading book three. The ending twisted unexpectedly and graphically. 

How to Avoid a Climate Disaster: The Solutions We Have and the Breakthroughs We Need by Bill Gates—published 2021—272 pages—nonfiction/science—three stars: Bottom line—I learned some startling information about climate change (like, I really had no idea about cement), but the. Writing. Was. Drier. Than. A. California. Drought. (Is this an inappropriate comparison to draw when reading a book describing an impending climate disaster? Yikes.) Also Mrs. Ram grew up on a farm, not because she is a ram, but because her family raises Angus beef cattle and performs other agricultural magic, and I (I’ll stop talking in the third person now thanks) thought while Gates tried to be nice about farmers and farming, he missed the mark when he says this: Imagine you’re a prosperous young farmer raising corn, soybeans, and cattle in Nebraska in 2050. (Excuse me while I transform into a battering Ram here.) I realize many prosperous farmers exist in America, but I know a cow-manure ton of farmers, and the humble, hard-working farmers I know would never describe themselves as something as pompous sounding as prosperous. Furthermore, many small farms have been struggling for decades, the antithesis of prosperity. And young and prosperous together? Where does he think these speculative young farmers are getting this land required for farming prosperity??? And I hate to break it to him and I know he set his hypothetical in 2050, but according to salary.com, the average Cornhusker farmer’s salary in 2021 is $40,033. What a prosperous sum to live on!!!!!! (Disclaimers: 1. I’m not attacking his sound argument that he’s making in the book about how to avoid a climate disaster. I’m just aggravated over this one sentence and needed to vent about it. Even if it is a hypothetical. 2. I also have never claimed to know anything about farming or cattle. I leave that to my dad, my siblings, and nephews. If anything, I’m farmer-adjacent and bovine-avoidant and always have been.)

As always, any discussion is welcome.

(All cover art is from Goodreads.)