Alliances, backstabbings, and intrigue abound in Merrie England
I read this for Tea & Ink Society’s 2025 Shakespeare in a Year Challenge.
I’d never heard of King John before seeing it on the reading list. Because I had no idea what it was about, I read a summary and looked at the cast list and tried to keep all the characters straight.
I listened to the play (the excellent Arkangel production) and just let it wash over me. I didn’t worry too much about keeping track of every twist and turn. As always, I’m surprised by how much there is here.
King John doesn’t get staged all that often these days, but the political intrigue, shifting alliances, and backstabbing sure do feel relevant.
Like so many of Shakespeare’s plays, this one deals with the question “Who am I?” Am I a king? If so, why? How come that other guy isn’t king instead? He’s illegitimate—what does that mean? Do I even want to be king? Am I fit? Also, who are my friends? Why are they my friends and not my enemies? What does that say about me?
I could go on.
Also, this idea of Who Is in Charge? Who is running England? We see many forces at work that demonstrate it’s not always King John who is calling the shots. At the end, we see nature swoop in and throw a wrench in both the French and English forces. Who is in charge? Could it be an almighty God, or is it random chance? The fact that a unnamed monk (who never even makes it onstage) poisons John (for reasons unclear) and forces the nation into a new era of leadership—it shows that the levers that shift the world aren’t always the big ones. Just because you are a king doesn’t mean you’re powerful. Also, our nations aren’t as strong as we think they are. They can fall apart a lot easier than we think. Just pull a few threads, and the seams rip.
We also see appearance vs. reality, especially with the death of poor little Arthur. What the nobles “see” as reality isn’t reality at all. But nobody is interested in working to uncover the truth about what happened to him.
Alliance and allegiance are big themes, too. Who will the kings and nobles ally themselves with and why? Who do they want close to them and why? What makes England a country? Under what circumstances are we willing to compromise or even collude with our enemies? Why not just let France take over because what is England anyway? Boundary lines change constantly in the play, and most of the motivations are self-centered and not moral. The one scene where we see a moral victory over a political one is when Hubert refuses to kill Arthur.
The women in the play suffer. There are several strong moms, but they suffer. One gal is wedded to the Dauphin as a bargaining chip. Arthur’s mom goes mad. It’s not easy being a woman in this play, for sure.
A great place to start if you’re reading Shakespeare for the first time
I read this as part of Tea & Ink Society’s Shakespeare in a Year Challenge for 2025. My first time experiencing the play, I listened to the Naxos audio version, which was great. This time, I watched the 1996 film starring Imogen Stubbs, which is extremely well done.
This story isn’t meant to be believable. It’s meant to convey a human experience, and the central questions of identity, excess, and honesty are so interesting.
It’s got the same lightness and humor of Dream, but none of the magic. It’s set firmly in the real world, and all of the antics occur due to practical joking or classic Shakespearean misunderstandings (they really are the best).
This is such an amazing commentary on love and disguise! And it’s got a great wise fool.
The second time I read the play, I “got” the subplot, the one with Malvolio and Sir Toby and Maria. It mirrors the high plot, but it has this tragi-comic trajectory that makes you feel uncomfortable about the trickery, and you’re forced to ask why it doesn’t sit well. Why is it different from what Viola is doing? I’m always amazed by the depth in these plays.
The first time I read this, I consulted a few summaries from several children’s summaries and retellings, trying to land on a good homeschool resource for my kids. Here are my impressions of those:
1. Charles and Mary Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare. This was the most thorough and extensive, and it did the best job of preserving much of Shakespeare’s language and elevated tone and diction. It’s more formal, offers some commentary, and is best suited to a read-aloud for young kids, as there are no pictures in my version, and the paragraphs are very long and intimidating.
2. A Stage Full of Shakespeare Stories: 12 Tales from the Bard Retold for Children by Angela McAllister. This was the shortest retelling, and I liked the colorful illustrations on every page and the Cast of Characters reference page (Antonio, Cesario, Orsino, Malvolio, Olivia…their names contain all the same letters, so confusing!!!) This one also preserved several of the most famous quotes, but I felt like the retelling itself was a tad dry because the plot was reordered for simplicity.
3. The Usborne Complete Shakespeare: Stories from All the Plays. I actually enjoyed this easy, fluid retelling, which is great for very young kids. I liked that the presentation of the plot aligned closely with the play. There is only one illustration spread per play, so not as much to look at here for younger kids.
So far, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve read by Mimi Matthews. She tends to write clean, interesting romances that aren’t irritating.
Her books are perfect for when you want to drop a romance bomb on your reading life. Romance with a capital R. Her books are decently clean. For example, in this one, there are bedroom scenes between a husband and wife, and even though they’re steamy, they’re not spicy or explicit. In fact, it’s sweet to see the marital bed depicted in a positive light.
What I’m saying is that the romantic relationship is the point of the book. There are side characters and some light subplots, but the two main love interests get the spotlight. There’s a dab of suspense and intrigue. This keeps things interesting and allows external forces to put pressure on the romance and test it.
Most of the action, however, happens internally. Our main character, Philly, is great with wounded animals. That’s why she feels drawn to Captain Heyward (which made me think of Sanditon every time I heard it). The Captian was traumatized in battle and sustained injuries that resulted in lifelong handicaps. Philly is just the girl to make him feel safe. It’s your classic Beauty and the Beast setup—the beast isn’t lovable until he is loved. Philly has a less dramatic arc. She grows stronger and more confident in the face of the girl-bullies who try to cow her, and she becomes a tad more worldly wise to wicked people who hide their true selves.
What I appreciate most about Mimi Matthews is that she doesn’t throw unbelievable or exasperating things at her lovers to keep them apart. A pet peeve of mine is when an author overuses a misunderstanding or presumption to throw an obstacle in the way of love. If the two people would just talk about it, they’d resolve it in one beat. But no, this one unspoken belief keeps them apart for 30 chapters. That gets old fast. In this book, there are many misunderstandings, but the characters clear them up quickly and move on. This is much more satisfying.
Honestly, this all makes for a solid book. It’s not the most amazing story, but it WILL hit the spot if you need to satisfy a Jane Austen craving with some quick sugar.
According to Hercule Poirot, Christmas is a natural time for murder
Family members gather from afar. Personalities clash. People bring up past offenses. Tensions run high. Should we be surprised when all this tinder catches fire? No, says the logical Belgian.
In this book, we have a houseful of family members, and it seems that one of them has murdered the patriarch. This man is not nice. We are not sad when he dies. Simeon Lee, the head of the family, takes perverse pleasure in causing his family members distress. He’s never displayed high moral character—shady business dealings, extramarital affairs, etc. Now, it’s come back to bite him. To end him.
The trope of the Evil Parent is something that I’ve seen before in Agatha Christie. It’s also similar to the setup in Knives Out.
But who did it? It’s a locked-door murder, and everyone in the house is a suspect. Who stood to benefit from the old man’s death? Who hated him the most?
To solve this one, Hercule Poirot decides to take a close look at Simeon Lee himself, insisting that the character of the deceased often leads directly to the murderer.
There are red herrings and other deceptions that keep this book moving along. In my opinion, this is one of Agatha Christie’s stronger novels. It serves up just what I hoped it would, including justice.
My only complaint is that I wish there were more Christmas-y trappings to make it more of a seasonal read.
Like many others before me, I find myself at a loss. There’s no earthly reason why this book should be interesting, but it is. It didn’t take long for me to fall into Piranesi’s narration, which is highly logical yet leaves you with more questions than answers.
This book is about a man named Piranesi who lives in a sprawling classical building complex surrounded by the ocean. The building is bursting with statues depicting all kinds of things. Its lower floors are flooded. It’s filled with birds. You can see the stars.
Piranesi calls himself a beloved child of the house. He’s content to live a rather survivalist life in this lonely place, yet he’s not unhappy. He keeps a daily journal. He meticulously maps the house. He lovingly cares for the dead bodies in the house. Twice weekly, he meets with The Other, another man who inhabits the house. The Other is on a quest for deeper and higher knowledge.
That’s the setup. I know. Weird!
Even though it may seem like this book is about nothing, it is about life. Probably? We try to make sense of where we find ourselves in the world. No matter how large or small the scope of life, we seek to understand it, document it, and sustain it. Piranesi is a master at living in the moment.
But what happens when an external force challenges what we believe to be true about the world? What happens when there is more to the world than we thought? How do we react when we realize we have been wrong, that we’ve forgotten things?
Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of this book, but it sure was an interesting foray into a non-cheesy fantasy world.
I read this book with my 7- and 9-year-olds for Sarah MacKenzie’s Christmas School this year. I was surprised by how much they were able to access, despite the old-fashioned language. This tale echoes through so many other stories that they’re familiar with, namely the Grinch.
I am a fan of The Muppet’s Christmas Carol movie, as well as Mickey’s Christmas Carol (I had a bootleg VHS recording of this as a kid), but I cannot abide the Jim Carrey version.
I loved Bleak House, but I think I just might love this one more. This book is about what it means to be truly free and happy.
Amy Dorrit was born in the Marshalsea prison for debt. Her father was once a prosperous gentleman, but now he’s imprisoned for life. Amy, the youngest and smallest of her siblings, quietly and devotedly manages things so they can all survive.
One day, when Amy is 21, a 40-year-old man named Arthur Clennam comes on the scene, and he’s a friend to her and her family. He plays a key role in making a discovery that leads them out of the Marshalsea and restores all their former fortune and then some. The Dorrits go from a literal prison to a metaphorical one (London high society). Meanwhile, Clennam falls upon hard times and there’s a reversal of fortunes. But wait, there’s another twist.
Amy and Arthur’s story is just one fraction of the book. There is a huge cast of characters who are all trying to break free from something. What does it mean to be truly free in body, mind and soul? Some characters are imprisoned by expectations, by guilt, by vice, by emotion (romantic love in particular). It is so beautifully rendered and woven together. It’s far too complex to write about here, but I thoroughly enjoyed steeping in this theme for a month.
As is always the case with Charles Dickens, his antidote is Christian love. Even though Dickens was a flawed man who made a lot of mistakes, he writes so clearly about the power of Christian morals and ethics to bring true freedom and happiness.
I highly recommend the audiobook narrated by Juliet Stevenson. I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed it half so much if I’d read it in print. I also highly recommend watching the BBC miniseries first, as it’s shockingly faithful to the original.
Now, some quotes:
Regarding Mrs. Clennam: Verily, verily, travellers have seen many monstrous idols in many countries; but no human eyes have ever seen more daring, gross, and shocking images of the Divine nature than we creatures of the dust make in our own likenesses, of our own bad passions. Ch. 30
Regarding Arthur and Amy: Looking back upon his own poor story, she was its vanishing-point. Every thing in its perspective led to her innocent figure. He had travelled thousands of miles towards it; previous unquiet hopes and doubts had worked themselves out before it; it was the centre of the interest of his life; it was the termination of everything that was good and pleasant in it; beyond, there was nothing but mere waste and darkened sky. Ch 27
For we all know how we all deceive ourselves—that is to say, how people in general, our profounder selves excepted, deceive themselves—as to motives of action. Ch. 13
Be so good as to say nothing that goes beyond what is said among us. If you keep within our bounds, you cannot well be wrong. Ch. 8
It is enough that she was inspired to be something which was not what the rest were, and to be that something, different and laborious, for the sake of the rest. Inspired? Yes. Shall we speak of the inspiration of a poet or a priest, and not of the heart impelled by love and self-devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life! Ch. 7
Crushed at first by his imprisonment, he had soon found a dull relief in it. He was under lock and key; but the lock and key that kept him in, kept numbers of his troubles out. If he had been a man with strength of purpose to face those troubles and fight them, he might have broken the net that held him, or broken his heart; but being what he was, he languidly slipped into this smooth descent, and never more took one step upward. Ch. 6
What’s the deal with Agatha Christie and train murders?
This one was fun! I love how Hercule Poirot books include similar elements, yet they all unfold somewhat differently—always with Poirot’s big reveal at the end. This isn’t on Agatha Christie’s top shelf of best books, but it might be on the second shelf down. I thought it was a jolly good time.
This one starts with a series of character intros, setting all the pieces on the chessboard. Then, crime most foul is committed. Even though the title mentions the blue train, this isn’t a locked-door mystery like Orient Express. It’s much more fluid than that, with characters coming and going to and fro in different settings. That may appeal to some readers who get claustrophobic in tight literary spaces.
There were a lot of characters coming and going, and I will say that I did get them confused from time to time listening on audio. But the cast size isn’t bigger than your average Poirot book.
I will say that I had a lot of theories about “who did it,” but none of them were right. I can’t be sure, but I believe this book may reference other Poirot mysteries, as the Belgian detective reconnects with several of his past contacts. If that’s true, then Christie buffs may have an advantage in solving the case, but, on my own, I was way off.
Beautifully written detective novel with a stiff upper lip
This detective story from the early 20th century is not cozy. Not hard-boiled, either. It’s old-fashioned, but not theatrical.
The centerpiece is detective Alan Grant of Scotland Yard. He’s young, handsome, and not like a police officer at all. He’s not what you’d call a “character” in the same way that Poirot, Wimsey, Marple, and Holmes are characters with distinctive quirks and traits—sometimes unbelievable ones. Grant is vanilla in comparison.
This book is beautifully written, with a lot of attention to detail and emotional nuance. But, as far as character and plot, it was just okay. I did get a little bored, truth be told.
The inciting incident is fantastic. A queue of people is waiting outside a London theater to see the final performance of a beloved London actress before she departs for America. I imagine it to feel something like waiting for a Disneyland parade to start. People are squished up next to each other. Vendors are selling stuff. Street performers are doing their thing. When the line finally starts to move, a man drops to the ground. He’s been knifed through the heart! In plain sight of all those people?!?
From there, things proceed in a relatively unremarkable way. Grant is polite and logical, and he collects clues that all point to a certain suspect, yet, in his gut (he calls it his imagination) he doesn’t believe the man is guilty. He’s got lots of proof that points to this guy, but he finds himself with a (rather womanlike) gut feeling…can he find proof that this guy isn’t the murderer?
This is all good, but the execution could’ve been more exciting for my taste. I enjoy detective stories with lots of color. I don’t want to say anything about the outcome because I don’t want to spoil anything, but I do have opinions about how it wrapped up. I guess that’s better than NO opinions, right?
What kid wouldn’t be fascinated by the idea of a whipping boy?
My boys, at ages 9 and 7, loved it. This was the perfect tiny book to slip in right before the start of the homeschool year. Plus, lots of good vocab.
I’m giving this book a lot of stars, but it’s not the end-all, be-all in children’s literature. Still, I loved the morality tale it presents.
We’ve got two main characters, Prince Brat, a terribly spoiled royal child. Then, we’ve got Jemmy, his whipping boy. Whenever Prince Brat gets in trouble, Jemmy gets a whipping (because it’s against the law to lay a hand on a princely hide.) Of course, this is unjust, and kids can see that right away.
In the dead of night, Prince Brat decides to run away because he’s “bored.” He commands Jemmy to go with him. They are terrible runaways and get kidnapped immediately by two highwaymen who stink of garlic. They meet a girl with a dancing bear and a potato seller and a rat catcher, and it’s all good fun in medieval times.
There’s a hearty moral takeaway and plenty of vocabulary words tucked into the narrative and strong historical flavor. But it’s mostly a growing-up / unlikely friendship story that I think will appeal to my boys when they’re a tad older.
More twists and turns than a cinnamon roll, and a masterpiece of suspense
This book has the “train wreck” quality, where every scene has you biting your nails, saying oh no, oh no, oh no. And it’s not because it’s high on action. In fact, most of the action takes place in relatively serene settings indoors, such as parlor rooms, dining rooms, and bedrooms. People talking, with only one fist-punch that I can remember. But it’s the escalation that had me hooked, hoping for a good outcome for the shy, insecure narrator.
This book is carefully crafted, swathed in atmosphere, and bursting with symbols and meaningful details. It’s a literary banquet. It’s hard to review the book without spoiling anything.
For a long time, I thought this book might be too scary for me. I thought it was more of a ghost story with paranormal whatsits flying around, but no. Even though there are eerie aspects, it wasn’t scary. And if I wasn’t scared, then nobody gonna be scared because I’m a wuss.
Even though this is a rather slim review (to avoid spoilers) you can grab my Rebecca book club guide and get everything you need to enjoy this classic.
This book is set in a mid-century modern Great Britain. So, think cars, cigarettes, socialites, mobsters, schoolboys, and landline telephones. It’s oh-so nostalgic and gritty. The book’s cover has more of a middle-grade vibe to it, but this book falls squarely into YA.
What makes this prosaic world magical? There are two brands of magic in Kazanjian’s alternate history: Alchemy and Illata. Some people are born with an Illata, which can be anything from the ability to unlock doors to the ability to cut off someone’s air supply. You can’t control what Illata you have or if you have one at all. Alchemy is learned magic, something that non-Illata-possessors practice at school and learn from teachers, but it’s a lot more difficult to master than Hogwarts-style magic. And schools are expensive, so Alchemy tends to be the magic of the rich.
I must say that I was completely charmed by the book’s ether. I loved the seedy underlord’s domain and the corrupt upper crust and the powerless kids caught in between. It felt very much like those hard-boiled detective novels, where things could go sideways at any moment.
The plot was simple and moderately paced. It may have benefitted from a faster pace and more subplots, but I will say that the climax of the book was “big” enough to be satisfying.
I’m not sure if this book is the first in a series, but it ended on somewhat of an unfinished note, with the core cast of characters returning (sort of) back where they started with a new goal. I’d love to know if Owl’s Nest has requested a sequel for this one, because I’m here for it.
There is no romance in this book, as is commonly expected in YA, just friendship. There is no gross violence, and there may have been a cuss word here or there, but there may not have been. There is adventure-style peril that doesn’t venture into the gory or morbid.
Opposites attract. Big time. Romance Above All Else.
Oh, Mimi Matthews! She’s one of the queens of period romance. This is NOT what I’d call a naughty little nugget—it was clean—but the romance was laid thick.
I picked it because I needed a quick win after The Shell Seekers, and this came free with Audible Plus.
I will say this. The book is short, and it gets straight to the point. “You here for romance?” Mimi asks. You nod enthusiastically! She doesn’t make you wait even one page to get things started. Hero and heroine meet right away, and it’s off to the races from there. It’s one neat little package.
Besides romance, there’s not much here. Both Valentine (heroine) and St. Ashton (hero) have personal issues to deal with, but they play second fiddle to the romance.
Valentine is a vicar’s daughter, and she’s sweet and innocent, but she also has a blurry past. St. Ashton is a notorious ladies’ man with dubious morals. The morals praised by the book are (by and large) good. Some characters behave badly, but this is never condoned. I was happy with the standards the book set for female-male relationships and what’s okay and not.
How spicy is this, exactly? It’s a closed-door romance with 3/5 jalapeno peppers worth of spice. But I also wouldn’t call it chaste. There’s closeness and kissing, and a lot of it. Okay for a teenager? Yes, an older teen. How cringey is it? I’d say 3/5 on the cheese scale. One of the author’s strengths is that she can write these crazy romances without making you feel foolish for reading them.
Wow, this was long. Too long. I bought the audiobook a while back when Chirp offered it on sale, and when I saw that Haley Atwell narrated it, I was sold. Atwell is a British actress, and her voice was spot-on perfect for this story. I loved her performance. I wish I could say the same for the story.
The positives:
This book feels luxurious and lush, so if you want to revel in sights, sounds, smells, and textures, this book delivers big-time. The descriptions suck you in, and before you know it, you’re physically experiencing another time and place. This is Pilcher’s strength, nay, superpower. She is a gorgeous writer. The protagonist, Penelope, even discusses the concept of “luxury” near the end of the book, and there’s this thematic question of luxury vs. comfort vs. privation, both physically and emotionally, and this was a discussion that I can appreciate.
The book is character-driven, and there is a colorful mix of characters. By far, the best mix is Penelope and her adult children, with whom she doesn’t connect. This discord makes the scenes between Penelope and her kids the best of the book. It seems like everyone else gets along too well…sees things similarly…and this was too serene for so long a book. For example, when Penelope discovers she’s going to have a baby out of wedlock, everyone in her life is incredibly supportive. It would’ve been much more interesting if someone, anyone, had put up some fireworks—at least there would’ve opened the door for a nuanced picture of Penelope’s predicament. But overall, the characters are good.
The negatives:
There are so many intertwining storylines that it’s hard to know what you’re supposed to care about. This book reminds me of Anna Karenina—a deep dive into the interpersonal relationships and inner lives of a handful of people at a specific place and time in history. That’s exactly what The Shell Seekers is. But, like Anna Karenina, the plot is meandering and slow. Pilcher slows WAY down, describing things in such minute detail that I got distracted and a little impatient. Why does this matter? She’s moving so slowly, it’s got to have some significance…but it doesn’t.
Also, this is an adultery story. I cannot express how much I dislike adultery stories. And this one largely condones the adultery. Most of the characters give the adulterous relationship a huge thumbs-up. This robbed the story of the conflict inherent in such morally fraught actions, nor does it challenge the reader to think about something like adultery from many angles (like Anna Karenina does).
At the end of the day, what frustrated me most was that I couldn’t condone the morals that the story praises, by and large. The writing is 5 stars, but the story was much more like 2, which evens out to three. So, there you go.
Content warnings: Characters commit adultery and have sex outside of marriage, and this is largely condoned. Nothing is graphically portrayed, and the romance is tastefully written, but morally disappointing.
A message of courage for kids who are too scared to reach for their dreams
What an incredible accomplishment for a teen author! This sweet story explores what it means to have hope when hope feels unrealistic and risky. The plot did not take the turns I expected, and what started as historical middle-grade took a turn into fantasyland.
Ashton Harper loves to dance. He secretly harbors hopes of attending a prestigious school of dance. But there’s no way he’ll get in, so why try? Why care?
Ashton and his two sisters DO get a shot at auditioning for the school…will they take it? The story follows Ashton as he figures out what he really wants from life, what’s truly important, and how to let go of his fears and insecurities.
This book is perfect for young readers who love the Regency era but want to read middle-grade (not adult romance, which tends to dominate).
Two sisters with wildly different temprements fall in love with men they can’t have
This book contains some of Austen’s all-time best dialogue. So many double meanings, so much dramatic irony. I will say, though, that this novel gets off to a rather slow start. I’d forgotten how long it takes for things to really get rolling. But the story just keeps getting better and better as it flows along.
I’m a total sucker for strong theme, and this book has it—it’s right there in the title. Just like Pride and Prejudice. You’ve got two sisters who embody two extremes of temperament. Eleanor is all sense, and Marianne is all sensibility. Austen shows us the upsides and downsides of each, ultimately praising both in moderation.
In the BBC miniseries from the 2000s, there is a very cringey scene in which Brandon and Willoughby duel with pistols on a foggy morning. I always mocked this scene up and down, saying, “That never happened in the book.” But I was so dead wrong! When Brandon confides in Eleanor, he mentions in veiled language that a duel did take place. So, there you go. Duels do happen in Austen.
Roald Dahl’s books are morally fraught. They just are. They are a mixed bag of incredibly human impulses. If you try to sanitize his stories, you will erase the very heart of his characters. Danny and his dad are good guys, but (there’s no getting around it) they do some bad things. Funny things. But illegal and low-down, nonetheless.
If I’d known HOW morally mixed this story is, I may NOT have chosen it for our first summer read-aloud with my boys. But, it was a good opportunity for me to casually introduce them to the idea that sometimes the main characters in a book don’t always do the right thing.
What is so morally complicated here in this harmless children’s book?
Well, Danny and his dad are the two sweetest guys you’ll ever meet. They live a simple life in a camper next to the gas station that they own and operate. Danny is only 9 or so, still a kid. One day, his dad confesses that he’s a poacher. He wants to poach pheasants off of a rich neighbor’s land. The rich neighbor is a big, bad meanie, so who cares about him? Danny comes up with a brilliant idea for how they can poach over 100 pheasants in one night and ruin the rich man’s annual shooting party, embarrassing him in front of all his hoity-toity guests.
Um, that’s mean. And illegal. It’s robbing the rich to feed the poor, except nobody is starving, and Danny’s dad says outright that he loves poaching because of the thrill, not because he needs food. Danny and his dad are praised and never condemned for their actions or attitude. Their plot goes off with hilarious results…but the laughs are rather cheap.
Because Danny comes up with the grand idea for the poaching scheme, he’s dubbed the champion of the world. Sigh…this is wish fulfillment for kids. What kid wouldn’t want the grown-ups around him to lift him high and praise his brilliance? BUT…
…at the same time, I love how Danny is given independence. His dad doesn’t baby him. Danny isn’t a listless, depressed, anxious kid who feels like his life is meaningless. He is well on his way to maturity at the tender age of 9, knowing how to problem-solve, handle responsibility, and take calculated risks. There is a degree of merit here, especially for boys.
But, as a mom, I wanted there to be more of a reality check to balance this out.
Hey, it’s Roald Dahl, and you’ve got to know that going in.
What happens when a selfish lord decides to help a poor family get a foothold in London society? Rrrrrrrromance! (Roll the “R.”)
This was delightful. Georgette Heyer is often described as the inventor of the regency romance genre when she started publishing novels like this one back in the ’20s. This book is like Jane Austen with antics, haha.
Frederica is determined to see her drop-dead gorgeous younger sister, Charis, have one London season. That’s all she needs to make a comfortable match with a gentleman. Since Frederica lost both her parents and has long been in charge of her younger siblings, it’s up to her to make this happen for Charis.
Frederica appeals to a distant cousin, Lord Alverstroke, who agrees to help her (at first) only to needle his bothersome sisters. But then, Alverstroke realizes that Frederica might just be his kind of gal. Romance ensues.
This book is CUTE. Clean romance. Regency period. Sparkling morals. Sweet to the bone. But, unlike Jane Austen, this isn’t all quiet action in parlor rooms and gardens and country estates. Here, we mix with people of all classes. We have adventures—barking dogs, hot air balloons, steamers!
The only critique I have (and it’s a small one) is that the writing can be clumsy to read at times. It’s not seamless. I found myself halting through some passages, especially those thick with period slang and colloquialisms. Also, Heyer uses exclamation marks with zero hesitation!!! Haha.
The next time I read a Heyer novel, I’d like to listen on audio. I bet that would be even better.
Side note: I can’t believe that filmmakers haven’t picked up on Heyer yet. Instead of making bad adaptations of Jane Austen, they could pick ANY Georgette Heyer novel and run with it.
Content warnings: None. The romance is as clean as it gets.
Meet a couple of spinsters who will change your life forever and ever amen.
“Can I weep openly right now?” That’s the question I had to ask myself every time before pressing play on this audiobook. I shed many a tear into my family’s dinner as I was cooking it, into the pavement around my neighborhood as I walked, onto my clean laundry as I was folding it.
It’s been 10 years since my last reading of The Hiding Place, so I was due.
First and foremost, this book is a testament to the power of God, and it’s also a tribute to Corrie’s sister, Betsy, and her faith. This time around, I was struck by how many times Corrie described Betsy as an otherworldly being. “Who is this sister of mine?” When she prayed for her enemies, thanked God for fleas. I think this is what it means to be a new person in Christ, to have a new heart. It’s something that the unbelieving spirit of the world cannot comprehend.
Indeed, this book does not diminish the power of God. Every step of the way, Corrie demonstrates with evidence (tangible and intangible) how God gave them everything they needed to do everything He asked of them. Many times, they didn’t see His hand until after undergoing a test of faith, and only afterward did they realize He’d been at work.
I love everything about this story, and I think everyone should read it. It’s a WW2 memoir that is almost never a downer…ever! It’s edifying and uplifting while also not shying away from the horrors and atrocities.
I’m amazed by how readable and riveting the writing is.
This book wins the award for Cutest Romance That Isn’t Cutesie
It was a slow start, but once I got my mental bearings, I was hooked.
The reason that this book started a TAD slow for me is because the author throws a lot at you right away. There’s a deep cast of secondary characters, and there are businesses, locations, and other things that can cause some early “who’s who?-type” confusion. But just push through that, and you’ll be glad you did.
Set in a fictional European city in the late 1800s, the story opens with Quincy St. Claire, owner of The Q, a newspaper that consists entirely of reader-submitted questions. Kind of like the Classifieds, but anything goes. She’s a brilliant businesswoman with a fiercely independent spirit. Quincy doesn’t need anyone or anything in her life except The Q. It’s her meat and drink.
She works for her uncle, who owns The Q. When he dies, his will states that Quincy can’t inherit The Q unless she meets a set of 12 requirements. The catch? She can’t know what the requirements are. The only person who knows (and who will determine if she meets them) is The Q’s lawyer, Mr. Arch.
Quincy and Arch are tossed together a lot due to this “requirement business,” and they combine like oil and water. Their tart banter is a highlight of this book. Ever so slowly, Arch gets Quincey to open up, and she does NOT want to do this. She prefers accounts, data, and machinery. People are way too unpredictable—not a smart investment.
So, you can see where it’s going, but the journey is worth every page. This is a LONG 500+ page book, and Beth Brower doesn’t rush Quincy’s transformation. Thus, we as readers do feel like we’ve made a big investment in this St. Claire woman, and we want to see how things turn out for her.
Overall, this was a great book that I’d recommend to anyone who loves Jane Austen but with way more sass.
By now, I know what to expect from Kate DiCamillo when it comes to a book like this. The Puppets of Spelhorst felt a lot like The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. It’s about a collection of puppets, and things happen to them, and they are changed. Very similar to Edward Tulane, who is a toy that things happen to, and he is changed.
It’s got big-time Velveteen Rabbit vibes, let’s just say that.
This book is charming, and like DiCamillo’s other books, the scope is intimate, but the themes are big. Although the puppets are inanimate, they have an inner life in which they think and communicate with one another (but they can’t move around or speak aloud like in Toy Story).
The big theme revolves around stories and their power. What is a puppet made for if not to tell a story? But the puppets don’t know who they are or what their story is.
All of the puppets start out by defining themselves in terms of what they have (a crown, sharp teeth, real feathers, etc.). But each puppet has a desire for something more (to have a real experience of some kind), and this desire is achieved in a small way by the end of the book. Of course, this led me to ask myself to what degree are we all puppetlike creatures who exist to play a part in a much larger story that we can’t control?
This book uses repetition like the Mercy Watson / Deckawoo Drive books do, and I can see why this might distract or exasperate some readers, but, for me, it slows me down and makes it crystal clear what the author wants me to pay attention to.
I read this book to myself in about an hour. I’m wondering if my boys will enjoy it, too, or if it’ll fly over their heads and leave them wondering what it was all about.
When a collection of strange items is stolen from an international boarding house, Poirot takes an interest in solving the puzzle.
Hercule Poirot is my favorite fussy detective. And Hugh Fraser did a fantastic job of narrating the audiobook version of this novel. It was everything I wanted in a Christie book, and it was a quick win for me, but it just wasn’t my favorite Christie book.
We start with a boarding house filled with 20-somethings from all over the globe. An odd collection of things go missing. Some turn up again. Some are destroyed. Then, people are in danger… What starts off as a puzzle turns into more.
I like the stage: an international boarding house, which is basically like a college dorm full of students from different countries, different backgrounds, and different worldviews. I liked the varied cast of characters, although I can see how they might not sit right in today’s tiptoe political climate. I like Poirot because he’s old-fashioned, and so am I. That’s why I like Mma. Ramotswe, too. There’s a tension between modern ways and old ways, and there’s something inside me that loves to see the old ways win, but not from a pulpit.
The plot was good, but it wasn’t gripping. The characters were what made this book enjoyable for me. I would’ve liked a little MORE Poirot here, actually. His police colleague, Detective Sharp, (I may have the name wrong) got just as much page time, although he’s not as entertaining as my Belgian.
Content warnings: Nothing graphic, but people die and plot, as you’d expect. Some mention of opiate use and the mishandling of drugs. One character has a drinking problem.
Oh boy, I’m a sucker for a Regency romance, and this one came on my radar when I learned that Sarah Eden crowdfunded enough money to have this made into a film. That’s impressive. My library had it, so I thought I’d read it.
This is a loose retelling of the Hades and Persephone myth. You’ve got Adam, a duke, who is fearsome and solitary and self-conscious about his scarred face. Then, you have Persephone, who is young and lively and completely devoted to her father and siblings. The result is a classic Opposites Attract story with heavy Beauty and the Beast overtones.
Adam and Persephone agree to marry, sight unseen, each for their own reasons, and they have a bear of a time getting along.
There were times when the Hades and Persephone myth was too on the nose for my taste, but it was neat to see how Eden translated different elements of the myth into the Regency era.
These stories rely on misunderstandings in order to keep the lovers apart, and there were plenty of them here. Adam and Persephone are strangers when they marry, and neither of them will speak plainly or open up. This book almost reached my personal threshold of tolerance for miscommunications, but it wasn’t bad.
In fact, I devoured this book in just a couple of days. It was a quick, wholesome and enjoyable read.
How spicy is the romance? Like three out of five jalapeno peppers. I thought the romance was one of the most tasteful I’ve read. It didn’t feel cheesy, which is impressive. I truly believed that they were falling in love because they wanted to—not because the author told them to. 😊
Did you know how bad communism was in Romania in ’89?
Me neither! I had no clue.
To think—while I was eating Cheerios and watching Care Bears and playing Barbies, these families were living off of chicken feet and tiny potatoes, with only black-market access to anything remotely Western. They couldn’t even get proper medical care without bribing people with packs of cigarettes. Electricity and heat were hit or miss. Eating a banana was something that only happened in your dreams. All the while, one corrupt family in power was living the high life. Oooh, shudder.
I almost wanted to categorize this as “dystopian.” I feel like this will hit home with a lot of young adults simply because it really happened—and can happen again.
It brings to spine-tingling life what happens when dictators have absolute power. It portrays the human dilemmas that regular people were shouldering under this inhumane regime. There was forced privation. Constant suspicion of neighbors and even family members. Who is listening? Who saw? Will they tell on me? Talk about anxiety! Also, zero hope that things will get better.
The structure of the book is perfect for YA. Short chapters propel you forward. Action and mystery and dilemmas at every turn.
I also loved the back matter, showing photos of people, places, and objects that figure into the story. I’m impressed by the depth of research that Ruta Sepetys put into this book.
When a young woman in regency-era England is forced to flee home, where will she turn?
This is the second Julie Klassen book that I’ve DNFed since the beginning of the year. I tried listening to Castaway in Cornwall on audio first, and then I got bored at the 35 percent mark. I decided to start this one, and I find that I’m forcing myself to go back to the audiobook…I have no desire to continue, so I’m going to just stop.
I don’t know if it’s the audio format or if it’s just not the right time for a regency romance. The books aren’t bad, but I think they’re lacking the conflict and emotion that I’m craving right now.
There are times when a relatively sedate and buttoned-up story is just the ticket. But, that’s falling flat for me at the moment.
Not giving up on you, Jules! I’ll be back.
Content warnings: Nothing graphic, but there was one scene when a man made unwanted advances toward the protagonist, and she got away.
Everyone’s favorite assistant pig-keeper is off on another adventure, but this one will test him to the core.
Dilemmas. That’s why this book is so good. The characters are faced with one impossible choice after another until the very last chapter. My boys and I really enjoyed this second installment in the Prydain Chronicles.
The evil Arwan is gaining power. To stop him, Gwydion gathers a crew of loyal Prydainians to sneak into his fortress and steal the black cauldron—the wicked pot he uses to create undead warriors for his army. Naturally, everything goes wrong, and Taran must learn what it means to make hard choices—all by himself.
This book was better than the first one, and I think it’s worth reading the first book in order to experience this sequel more richly.
This is HIGH fantasy in the same vein as Tolkien. It’s hard to miss the parallels between LOTR and these books. But, these books are much shorter and accessible to a younger audience. My 7- and 8-year-olds wouldn’t be able to read them solo, but they can understand them perfectly well when I read aloud (and clarify some of the high-brow vocab). The books are written in a lofty, grand tone.
Again, this book was great because of the series of difficult choices that the characters faced. I felt like the plot was tight and economical. Overall, YES.
Content warnings: Nothing overly concerning. Several characters die, and one must sacrifice him/herself in one scenario.
After hearing Sarah MacKenzie from Read-Aloud Revival (I love her) interview the author, I was ready and rearin’ to love this book, and maybe my expectations were too high. I liked it but did not love it. Now, I do love the premise: There are portals to other worlds. They exist, just like in fairy tales. All we have to do is find them. That’s a common childhood fantasy, right? But the execution felt a tad off for me.
The protagonist is young Eva, an American who travels with her mom to visit her Grandmother in England for the first time ever. Soon, she realizes that her regal Grandmother was once a queen in fairyland.
Positives: Complex female relationships—whoooo-wheeee. Women. We can be weird. We don’t always treat each other right, and this book is packed with strong females who all seem to have fraught relationships with one another. This didn’t detract from the book at all and was one of the highlights for me.
Negatives: The writing wasn’t as immersive as I’d hoped. The pacing of the plot did drag a bit for me. I found myself wondering more than once, “Where is this going?” Eva was always finding clues and making little discoveries, but they all seemed a tad disjointed. I couldn’t see how the story was building to any sort of climax. The chapter-ending Ternival tales (fictional excerpts from a book of fairy tales) were a little hard to follow. It was a lot of new information to keep track of.
Thank you to NetGalley and WaterBrook for an ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review.
Content warnings: I wouldn’t hesitate to let any teenager read this. There’s nothing graphically scary or violent, and there is a sweet romance but it’s very much a side note until the end, and even then, there’s just a hint.
By J.I. Wagner Translated by Tracy Phua Illustrated by Cindy Foehlich
Character
Plot & Pacing
Writing Craft
Moral Value
At the end of each short chapter, there’s a clue to solve that moves you a step closer to uncovering a mystery.
That made me curious enough to give this book a try with my 7- and 8-year-olds. They have short attention spans, so we read one to two chapters per day, and we had fun solving the little clues. Some were easy and satisfying, but others were tough enough to flex our mental muscles.
The story is written from the POV of Timmi Tobbson, average kid. He has two friends, Lilli and Marvin. One summer day, they realize they need to help save Lilli’s grandpa’s house from getting repo’ed. This leads them on a wild goose chase through many crazy locations in their historic town.
The fun thing about the clues is that you must look closely at the illustrations that appear at the end of each chapter, and those pictures give you clues to help you answer the accompanying “clue question.”
The concept of this book is just wonderful. The clues and illustrations are very well done. The writing and story elements were not quite as strong. We do have the second and third books in the series, so my boys will see how the series unfolds if they choose to read these independently. I won’t be continuing the series as a read-aloud.
This is my second Georgette Heyer novel, and I went into it blind. I enjoyed this old-timey Regency romance for the most part, although there was a saggy bit in the beginning-middle, which I pushed through, and I’m glad I did. This book illustrates the age-old truth: you don’t know what you got till it’s gone.
The first few chapters race along because the setup is superfun: A rich, young, and hunky lord decides (on a whim) to marry a childhood friend of his. She’s young, like 16, and he’s not much older, like early 20s. They don’t love each other, but they’re chums. They’re marrying for convenience. The Viscount Sherry gets his full inheritance bestowed upon him when he marries, and our sweet young heroine (aptly named Hero) agrees to be his wife to avoid the woeful fate of becoming a governess.
After they get married, Hero proves that she has no idea how to be a proper lady, but Sherry can’t be bothered to teach her. They are both so young, and they just wanna have fu-un. Sherry is a bit of a wild boy, flirting and gaming. Hero is a fun-loving, ready-for-anything teenager.
The beginning-middle of the book shows Sherry having to clean up after Hero’s many social fumbles—taking the grownup role for the first time in his life. Hero realizes how much she loves Sherry, but Sherry is oblivious to this. Hero wonders if he regrets marrying her, and she never asks him, so she’s left to stress over it.
The book title probably comes from the traditional poem “Monday’s Child.” According to the poem, Friday’s child is “loving and giving,” and that is exactly what Hero is. She is not an Amazon or a Matriarch or any power-archetype. She’s entirely at Sherry’s mercy, yet, through her love and goodness, she saves him.
Sherry is not—ahem—politically correct, shall we say. This whole book, in fact, is delightfully incorrect in so many ways. Sherry is flawed. He doesn’t appreciate Hero and treats her like a possession. His nickname for her is “Kitten”—barf! Even after his transformation, he’s not exactly fighting for her right to be prime minister or anything like that. But he does teach her to drive, so there’s that.
