Review copy courtesy of Lisa Roe, Online Publicist.
Visit Carrie Host online.

Carrie Host’s Between Me and the River is the memoir of a woman who discovered she had a particularly slow-growing, and difficult to treat, form of cancer. It took me until halfway through the book to fully realize that unlike a Hallmark movie, this book wasn’t necessarily going to have a happy ending, and I had to flip to the author bio at the end to at least reassure myself that Ms. Host was still alive at the time the book was published. There’s something very raw and tough about realizing that this person you’ve grown in some ways very close to over the course of such an intimate book is still facing something so difficult.

It came as a shock to Carrie when she was diagnosed with carcinoid tumors. She had several children—one of them still very young—and the idea of facing cancer treatment as a young mother was terrifying. Even worse, it turned out that carcinoid was slow-growing (a good thing) but almost impossible to treat (a very bad thing). She faced many dangerous surgeries, invasive tests, and, most likely, a very short lifespan.

What makes Between Me and the River both amazing and incredibly difficult to read is the manner in which Carrie takes us along on all the intimate steps of her journey. She shows us her strength and stubbornness, but she also shows us the times when she whines, feels sorry for herself, and wants to give up. She dwells equally on the moments of hope and the moments of despair. Most amazingly of all, whether you’re a cancer patient yourself who wants to understand better what you’re going through (and realize you’re not alone), or you want to be able to understand those with cancer a bit better, you’ll find she deftly places you in her shoes throughout all the highs and lows.

Carrie, in addition to being in the position to tell us all about the aspects of cancer we might not think of or be aware of (from the effects of treatment, to the effects of the disease on friendships and family), is also a lovely writer. She has a poet’s sensibility and a lyrical style. Even the second time that I go back to read through some of the details of her reaction to her diagnosis, I start to cry.

If you know someone who has cancer—and the odds are high that sometime during your lifetime you will—you owe it to both them and yourself to read this book, and get a spare copy for them. It’s a beautiful way to help you both understand and cope with what’s happening, and maybe it’ll give you a common ground from which to discuss such a difficult subject.

Review book courtesy of Penguin Group

When Kiki Dion, art historian, gets the opportunity to meet rich artist Ethan Tierney, she jumps at the chance. Intrigued by his kinky subject matter, and by the feelings both it and he arouse in her, she agrees to model for him. The sparks of their first meeting quickly swirl into a storm of passion, marred only by a feeling Kiki has of being watched. As the two of them try to come to terms with their new relationship, and what they will and won’t do, they’re going to need to figure out if a collection of letters from the turn of the century are related to those feelings of eyes watching…

One of the things that intrigued me about Submission was seeing that Ms. Feather was planning on interweaving the stories of two couples together, one contemporary and one from the past. I’ve seen this done well in books in the past, because it gives readers a way to compare and contrast responses to a situation and tease out how a problem should be solved. In this book, however, I actually found the historical couple’s characters and story more compelling than those of Kiki and Ethan.

First of all, Kiki establishes in the first few pages of the book that she is not looking to get into the BDSM scene that Ethan is a part of; she is interested in meeting him because of his art. Even though sparks fly between the two of them, she attempts to get to know him better through his art. Because of her very clear boundaries in the beginning of the book, it was rather frequently irritating to see her discard them with only the barest whisper of a qualm. One would think that repeatedly going past her stated boundaries would cause some sort of emotional conflict, but if it does the reader doesn’t get to see much of it.

Ethan also made me want to tear my hair out. There’s a particular type of scene that Kiki starts wanting to do with him because the idea of it turns her on, but he adamantly maintains that he absolutely will not do that with her. Or anyone. Because he never does that. This struck me as incredibly more aggravating than the historical romance cliché of Man Who Has Been Burned By One Woman Therefore All Women Are Out To Get Him, for the simple fact that Ethan seems to have decided that doing this type of scene with anyone will make him less of a man, while in the historicals the man is basing his attitude off of (admittedly narrow) experience. And to fully disclose here: I have never had any patience for contemporary men, either in real life or in books, who are more concerned with their ego than with doing something that would make the person they cared about happy.

The cardboard-feeling characters actually took a plot formula that I normally don’t mind and gave it a feeling of utter implausibility. I love watching heroines who can take care of themselves just fine in life get not only love, but the luxury of never having to worry about money again. Ethan’s dogged insistence throughout almost the entire book that he would not do the one fantasy she explicitly said she wanted to try with him, and then proceeded to make her feel guilty about wanting it made me seriously doubt that she couldn’t do better than him. Even when he did give her what she wanted, I wasn’t even sure that he had actually learned anything by giving in to her. Because of that, their Happily Ever After felt a little bit flat.

The couple that we meet through the letters that Kiki and Ethan read actually felt more emotionally resonant to me. I felt like I got more of a glimpse into how Nicole felt about the things that were happening in her life and her relationship with Javier. It was also very rewarding to watch her struggle and come to terms with her feelings about Javier and his lifestyle. I just wish I could have gotten to know a little more about what shaped Javier into who he was.

Submission is a fun, quick, steamy read, but because the characters felt frustrating and at times unlikeable the plot felt cheap and cheesy. I actually related more to the secondary characters than the hero and the heroine. If you are looking for a fun kinky read however, you won’t want to put this down.

Review book (published 2009) courtesy of Chronicle Books.

I just looove breakfast foods. They’re so versatile and delicious, and they certainly don’t have to be restricted to breakfast-time! I was highly enthusiastic about checking out the Stonewall Kitchen Breakfast cookbook, and it didn’t disappoint in the least.

I think my favorite aspect of this cookbook is that it doesn’t try to be an exhaustive catalog of a zillion omelets, pancakes, etc. There are already plenty of cookbooks that do that. Instead, it gives one or two of each main type of thing, with plenty of hints and tips for variations, customizing to your own tastes, etc. It’s more of a book of alterable patterns than it is a book of specific recipes, and for cooks who enjoy experimenting, that’s as good as gold.

Like most Chronicle cookbooks, the table of contents lists out individual recipes, making it easy to find what you’re looking for. The paper is reasonably glossy and thick, able to withstand regular kitchen use. The photographs are gorgeous, and the layout is clean, clear, and easy to read.

Chapter 1 delves into muffins, scones, and coffee cake, with such delights as carrot cake muffins with cream cheese-walnut spread. These are fairly non-sweet, and surprisingly delicious. I was dubious about the unsweetened spread, but it complemented the muffins perfectly. If carrot cake isn’t your thing, however, there are savory options (such as basil and goat cheese muffins) and other sweet possibilities (such as coconut-orange-pecan coffee cake).

Chapter 2, fruit dishes, looks awfully skimpy with its mere two recipes (berry salad with mint syrup, and breakfast fruit smoothies). However, given the wide range of variations we’ve created out of the basic smoothie building blocks, this has actually turned out to be one of the most useful chapters in this book for us. Heck, we make the smoothies for dessert, since it’s a lot healthier than something like ice cream! Chapter 3 is similarly small, with a recipe for granola and granola bars, but again, it’s a basic building block that you can create infinite variations from.

Chapter 4 provides a surprising variety of egg dishes. There’s a smoked salmon scramble, huevos rancheros, eggs baked in pancetta cups (which are most excellent, by the way, as well as being shockingly simple to make!), baked eggs, poached eggs, omelet, frittata, a crustless quiche, a strata (with greens, sausage, and cheddar), a lobster recipe(!), and even breakfast crab cakes. Each of these starts off with a version that includes delicious flavors such as spinach, feta, and tomato, or linguica and chard, but again, it’s easy to play around from there and use the provided recipe as a starting point. This chapter also lets me point out another great aspect of this cookbook: it strikes a wonderful balance between making recipes that are easy to fix the night before (or put together quickly in the morning) so you can use them on weekdays, such as the crustless quiche, and fancy recipes you can trot out for company (Lobster Benedict with Meyer Lemon-Scallion Butter, anyone?).

Next there’s a chapter of breakfast sandwiches, salads, and pizzas. These are things we don’t tend to think of for breakfast, but why not? There’s really no good reason. And if you don’t believe me, I have a feeling the recipe for bacon, egg, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches with tarragon-lemon mayo will convince you.

The section on pancakes, french toast, and waffles is, of course, one of the highlights of the book! I was particularly pleased with the chocolate waffles with chocolate-maple sauce. They aren’t nearly as sweet as most chocolate waffle or pancake recipes, but they have a whole lot of flavor. It was perfect. There are also breakfast corn fritters, silver dollar potato pancakes, whole grain blueberry pancakes, walnut pancakes with maple-glazed apples, and more.

The side dish chapter is hard to pass up—how could I not want roasted sweet potato home fries, or blood-orange glazed sausages? There are also other spud dishes, meat dishes, hashes, flavored cream cheeses, flavored butters and fruit butters.

Finally, there are a few drinks to go with: a double-chocolate cocoa, “Stonewall Bloodys,” and a blood orange mimosa.

The recipes are imaginative and creative without being too wild. They give you great ideas for ways in which you can jazz up traditional basic dishes, but by only giving you a few examples and suggestions they also encourage and support your own improvisation and creativity. The collection strikes a fantastic balance between simple, quick, easy recipes, and impressive recipes that’ll make your guests drool (but that, frankly, really aren’t all that complicated either). And the results? Oh, my, the results! They’re consistently delicious, with nary an error that we could detect.

Review copy courtesy of Penguin Group.

Sure, we’ve seen the zombie-causing virus before. We’ve witnessed countless movies and books about mindless once-human things bent on contaminating all of the human race. Yet Walter Greatshell’s Xombies: Apocalypticon (sequel to his Xombies: Apocalypse Blues) actually succeeds in bringing something new and fascinating to this milieu.

Agent X has taken out most of the human race in one fell swoop. People—starting with women—became blue-skinned, mindless, and crazed, relentlessly chasing down every last human possible in the effort to spread the contamination. But why? How did X escape? Why did it affect women first? How is it that a few Xombies seem to have some of their mental faculties left intact?

All of these are fine questions to be sure, but they pale next to the need to survive. A ragtag bunch of young men, a scientist who worked on Agent X, and a bunch of military men seem to be safe aboard a refitted nuclear sub; their only major problem—and it’s a doozy—is that they’re running out of food. They have the only “tame” Xombies known to exist, and plan to use them to seek out supplies, as well as knowledge of what happened with Agent X. There are just a couple of problems with this. Their tame Xombies might have other ideas, and there’s a new world order out there that doesn’t want the competition…

Yet again, being a book reviewer has resulted in my starting a series in the middle. I highly recommend starting with the first book, because this is a rather complicated story, and while this book stands about as well as could be expected on its own, I would have had an easier time with some of the plot points if I’d started at the right place! Not to mention there’s plenty of interesting material here, and you might as well enjoy it all.

While there’s a fascinating mystery at the heart of the Agent X infection, and some interesting characters, the real story is the altered world in which the characters find themselves. The folks on the sub have their own hardships, and the ones on land have found some highly unusual “solutions” (I use that word very lightly) to many of the dangers the Xombies pose. There are also quite a few social implications raised by the lack of women, and Greatshell definitely has some unusual and fascinating takes on what might happen there.

I know it seems like I’m not going into much detail here, and that’s because it’s hard to get into the nitty-gritty of things without giving away some of the best surprises. The Xombie tale is gory, wild, surreal, gross, and definitely action-packed. It has a macabre sense of humor and isn’t afraid to step on toes or go places that might offend some readers. Yet it adds onto that with some great world-building and a fascinating biological puzzle that will certainly keep you guessing. If that sounds like your cup of tea, then I definitely recommend this one!

Review book courtesy of Penguin Group

For the first time in my reviewing career, I’ve run into something that almost never happens to me. I couldn’t finish a book. I tried my hardest to finish it; when I couldn’t finish it I put it down for a few months to see if time would make it better for me. Well, it didn’t.

Belavalari has absolutely no desire to be a wife. Cooking and cleaning hold no appeal for her. So when fate throws Merin in her path, a wounded soldier who she figures doesn’t have long to live, she drugs him and tricks him into marrying her. Not knowing what he’s done, he leaves her. She has what she’s always wanted: her freedom. But when Merin returns to take her to be one of the Emperor’s prospective brides, the truth comes out. The only way for the two of them to separate is to spend twenty-two days tied together at the waist. After that, they’ll be through with each other — if they manage not to kill each other…  I kind of hate to say it, but that might actually have made the story less painful for me.

I had really looked forward to 22 Nights because the premise felt so unusual to me. After all, how many people fall back in love while going through what are essentially divorce proceedings? But even as the book started, I was beginning to lose enthusiasm. Bela, despite the fact that she is twenty-three years old, feels immature. Which is not usually a sticking point for me, because I really enjoy watching character growth, but even just over a hundred pages into the book, I really don’t see a whole lot of development. I just don’t feel like I can slide into her head and experience her life with her. Her emotions and responses seem tailored to move the plot forward, with little development outside of that. Because I couldn’t connect with her, she frustrated me.

I had some of the same complaints about Merin. I don’t really get to see anything about who he is as a person outside of his feelings for Bela, which makes me sad because he’s a highly placed general at the Emperor’s court. I know he’s led an interesting life, but I never get to see it. I don’t even get a chance to see what brought him and Bela together the first time, which frustrates me because I know so little about them already. I want to like these people, but I don’t know them well enough to care.

There’s also a secondary plot line interspersed with Bela and Merin’s story, about another of the Emperor’s prospective brides named Layla. Throughout my hundred-plus pages of reading, I have no idea how her story is related to Bela and Merin’s. It’s aggravating, because just as I”m starting to get somewhat interested in them, I get yanked back to Layla’s story. I don’t have the time to get engrossed in the characters’ heads because there’s not a whole lot going on in that regard, and then I get yanked back into the other story and the process starts all over again. I’m sure there’s a connection in the end, but there’s no inkling as to what it could be, and that drove me up the wall.

The final nail on the coffin for me was the way that conflict was handled. There is a huge disconnect between the emotional conflict going on between the characters and the outside conflict that they’re experiencing. The external conflict feels like it’s there because the author didn’t feel like the emotional aspects could stand on their own. (Truth be told, I don’t think they can.) It doesn’t shed any new light on them or how they’re feeling. Even Layla’s external conflict felt pointless. Because of that, for me there’s no tension. That just drove me crazy, and it was the combination of characters I didn’t care about in danger that didn’t seem to serve any purpose because their emotions felt flat. I finally threw in the towel. As much as I love the premise, the way the story was handled simply drove me up the wall.

Review copy courtesy of Penguin Group.

Calliope Reaper-Jones seems like just another flaky, fashion-obsessed New York girl, stuck in a boring job and trying to make ends meet. But she’s far from ordinary. She’s Death’s daughter, immortal, magically-inclined, and bound and determined to stay as far away from the family business (Death, Inc.) as possible. Somehow, however, she keeps getting dragged back into it. This time, Cerberus is calling in the favor she owes him. And if she doesn’t pay up, little Hellhound-pup Runt will get taken away from her new happy family. Paying off that favor is going to be more than a little difficult, however, involving trips to Purgatory, Las Vegas, and Ancient Egypt… not to mention dealing with some very unsavory supernatural types.

I’ve wanted to read Amber Benson’s work ever since I heard she had a book out called Death’s Daughter (the prequel to this one), which just sounded cool. I rarely have the time to pick up and read books on my own these days, however, but I was more than happy to jump on it when her follow-on, Cat’s Claw, showed up on my doorstep as a review copy.

First the good: Cat’s Claw more than met my hopes & expectations in the creativity and fun departments. While I have gotten a little sick of fashion-obsessed heroines, Amber gives the trope some new life by curtailing her heroine’s finances so she has to buy things on sale (gasp!) and giving her an unlucky knack for getting her new fashion finds ruined in the hostile environs of the underworld.

The idea of Death as a corporation is hilarious, as are many of the details in this book. This is some of the most original and wacky paranormal writing I’ve encountered in a long time—with nary a vampire or werewolf in sight! Some of the dialogue is hilarious, and the characters certainly have plenty of personality.

Now for the parts I didn’t like as much, with a caveat: To me, some of my negatives read like an author who has incredible amounts of talent, but hasn’t entirely honed her craft. That said, they could also be read as elements of deliberately-chosen style that simply didn’t work for me as an individual reader. I’ll explain what bothered me, and you can decide for yourself whether it would matter to you or not.

Everybody screeches & hisses their words. Actions are melodramatic and wild. Prose is purple. In some ways it worked as a kind of overall slapstick, hilarious style. However, there are some moments in this book that are not meant to be slapstick—they’re dark, or adult, and the slapstick tone really undercuts that. If those clashing moments weren’t present, or the slapstick-ness was toned down a tad, it could make a really interesting deliberately melodramatic romp of a style. As it is, I had some difficulty with it.

There are also some really huge and blatant info-dumps in here. They almost half-work, thanks to the conversational, first-person style Amber indulges in. And that’s quite a feat, let me tell you. However, when you’re approaching the climax of the book and things come to a screeching halt so the narrator can say, “Speaking of immortality, I suppose since we’re already on the topic, now would be as good a time as any to explain how it works,” then you’re really derailing the pace.

I’m blown away by the originality of the material, so I hope to see a smoother and more consistent writing style in later books. Because while I enjoyed Cat’s Claw, it didn’t bowl me over the way I was hoping.

Review book courtesy of Penguin Group

The Order of Solace is an organization of women trained in the arts of pleasure and service. Those in need of solace can request a Handmaiden, and it will be her responsibility to serve her patron until he or she finds at least a moment of solace, at which time her service to them is over. Three men, the Crown Prince of Firth and his two friends, each request a Handmaiden one after the other. A dark moment in their past has affected them throughout the course of their lives, leaving them emotionally damaged. Can these three Handmaidens bring them the solace they so deeply crave?

The idea that a relationship can be used as a means to heal another person is one that has fascinated me for a long time. It takes a lot of experience to know when to push an issue and when to let something go. I was very curious to see how this complexity would work itself out in this book, because if a Handmaiden does something drastically wrong, she could possibly leave a patron worse off than when she had come to them. Each Handmaiden that we get to read about is fairly experienced with different patrons and their needs before she begins the assignment we are reading about. I did enjoy the fact that each of the Handmaidens had different approaches to and feelings about their assignments, which kept these three stories from feeling like carbon copies of each other with recycled characters.

Ms. Hart has an absolute genius for creating damaged men that still manage to function in their lives. Two of the male characters, Cillian and Edward, were friends when they were younger but a tragedy has changed their friendship. Guilt and loyalty compete with wanting the friendship to return to what it was, and watching these emotions play out between the two makes for some very emotionally moving scenes between them, written in such a way that they didn’t feel trite.

Another element that felt really fresh to me was the idea that Handmaidens are supposed to put the well-being of their patrons above their own desires. I have become so used to watching romance heroes and heroines bump heads and work at cross purposes that watching a couple work together for a professed common goal without exaggerated histrionics is a very welcome breath of fresh air.

One thing that I wished I could have gotten more of from the stories was a better picture of the religion. A brief overview of the relevant myth is given, but I would like to know a bit more of how it has shaped not only the Handmaidens and their job, but the society as well. There is another Order of Solace book in print, a full novel instead of three novellas, and I certainly plan on giving it a read, so maybe it will answer some of my questions.

Another thing that readers should be aware of before picking this up is that some of the styles of sexuality are not those typically found in romance novels. The characters enjoy some of the sharper pleasures, but the stories are no less moving because of that. In fact, some of the stories are more so, because this element adds another layer of conflict to what is already going on. The love scenes also don’t feel gratuitous or voyeuristic, rather they feel as if the characters are behaving true to themselves. I thought that they were elegantly done.

This book got me deeper into the heads if its characters than any book has in a very long time. I adored being absorbed into the world and its premise while watching the growth and healing of characters who very quickly came to mean a great deal to me. The sexual moments, while not always the typical fare, were handled with taste. I very much look forward to devouring and reviewing the next book in the series. In the meantime  though, this book has without a doubt earned a spot on my keeper shelf.

Review copy courtesy of Penguin Group.

Women, monsters, and ass-kicking—what more could I ask for? A Girl’s Guide to Guns and Monsters, edited by Martin H. Greenberg and Kerrie Hughes, is a collection of thirteen stories about strong women taking on monsters in a variety of settings and genres. The stories proceed in chronological order from the old West to space-faring SF, so you won’t even get mental whiplash along the way.

Jane Lindskold’s The Drifter is a delightful start. Unusual circumstances have forced Prudence Bledsloe to take up a rifle, wear trousers, and travel alone. But for once, the town she enters doesn’t seem to care much about that. They have worse things to worry about, and that’s exactly what’s brought Prudence to their doorstep. She’s there to deal with their monster for them, because their monster is something that hits perilously close to home for her.

Nancy Holder’s Our Lady of the Vampires sees a privileged young girl sent away to a Home for Girls when everything goes to Hell in 1929. She’s forced to confront the question of exactly what monsters are… and what to do about them. The answer is truly beautiful.

Lilith Saintcrow’s Best Friends was the first shining star of the anthology for me, as much as I enjoyed the previous two stories. One girl’s future stepfather has been acting more than a little strange, and Katie is sure she’s finally figured out why. Luckily for her, her best friend, Becca, trusts her enough to believe the impossible—and to help her do something about it.

Jeanne C. Stein’s Elizabeth and Anna’s Big Adventure is another of my favorites from this volume. A man breaks into the house of the prosecutor who sent him to jail, and finds only the man’s young daughter, Elizabeth. It’s Elizabeth’s craftiness that gives her babysitter, Anna, time to show the thug what a REAL monster can do.

I think it’s inevitable that every anthology, by nature, will have at least one story in it that doesn’t suit each reader. With so many different authors and takes on the topic at hand, how could it be otherwise? For me that story was Anton Strout’s Lupercalia. The tale finds us with two college roommates, Helen and Leis. Leis is on a crossbow-wielding rampage looking for her ex, and Helen’s trying to talk some sense into her. As it turns out, Leis has some reason to be upset—her ex is a bit of a trickster in human guise when it comes to the love department. The ideas behind this one are funny, and inventive, but the short story length didn’t do it justice. It ended up feeling rushed and a bit flat, without enough depth to Leis or her ex to make them come alive as characters.

Before I started reviewing a handful of anthologies I don’t think I’d heard of Kristine Kathryn Rusch, which is a true shame, as she’s easily the most talented author in all of these anthologies. Every single story by her utterly wows me. This time the tale is Murder, She Workshopped. Rusch must have had the same thought I did when watching all those episodes of Murder, She Wrote as a kid: since murder follows the writer everywhere she goes, maybe she has more to do with it than we think! In this case, an amateur writer and professional assassin has been sent to a writers’ conference to take out a target—only that target is far nastier, and far less simple, than an ordinary killer.

My other favorite tale in this selection is Jim C. Hines’s Heart of Ash. In his book The Mermaid’s Madness, we met a bawdy and beautiful dryad that turned out to be one of the most memorable parts of the book for me. Clearly the dryad concept hasn’t worked its way out of Hines’s system, and thank goodness for that! In this tale he presents another view of how a dryad might make her way in the world, and the consequences for her of intermingling with humans. I got thoroughly caught up in this story’s events, and couldn’t put it down until I’d finished every last word!

Elizabeth A. Vaughan’s Jiang Shi is a delightful and unexpected diversion that came as an utter surprise to me after reading some of her less whimsical novels. In it, a very unlikely hero in the form of a middle-aged woman is shepherded to her destiny with the aid of a sword-wielding mouse and his allies. It also has some bits of dialogue in it that utterly delighted me:

“Kate … You are the Wise One, Bearer of the Scale, chosen of the Emperor Dragon, Lord of the Dragon Kings, Ruler of the Weather, and the Waters of the World.”

I stared at the small talking mouse on my coffee table for one solemn moment, and then reality came crashing in. “Bullshit. … Tell me again how the Emperor Dragon has chosen a fat, middle-aged woman from Toledo, Ohio. Go ahead, I dare you.”

In Tany Huff’s No Matter Where You Go, I think the plot is best summed up by another piece of dialogue: “So a teenage girl opened a portal to another reality on the wall of a mausoleum, went through with her friends, Vicki followed them, and then the portal closed—is that it?” Vicki, naturally, is a vampire, meaning it’s the monster who’s going to have to save the kids from the terrors of the realm they’ve gotten themselves into. It’s definitely an adrenaline-filled rush of a story.

PR Frost’s Signed in Blood introduces us to a somewhat more inadvertent “monster,” and to Tess, the woman who has to deal with him—and who might suffer some unfortunate consequences as a result. Mickey Zucker Reichert’s Broch de Shlang was another story that I liked in concept, but couldn’t entirely get behind in execution. It explores a single mother’s attempts to care for her disabled daughter, and the family curse that kicks in to make things all the harder. Alexander B. Potter’s The Wooly Mountains is an unusual take on a world populated by “mythical” beasties that have come out of the woodwork, with a good sense of humor and delightful characters.

My final favorite, however, is Nina Kiriki Hoffman’s Invasive Species. It’s a funny and weird science fiction story with some utterly delightful twists to it, and a wonderful main character.

On the whole, I’m quite happy with the quality of A Girl’s Guide to Guns and Monsters. Even the stories that didn’t bowl me over were still enjoyable to read, and there are some absolute gems in here!

In other words, barring any unforeseen circumstances, it looks like the insomnia’s on the mend and I’ll be back to expounding on what I loved & hated about the books I’ll finally be reading again. I hope your own years are starting off well!

Update on 2/18: I’ve put together the initial scaffolding of four reviews: the above-mentioned three, plus Walter Greatshell’s “Xombies: Apocalypticon.” Now that I’m awake and have gotten myself moving again, I hope to work on those reviews over the next few days, plus start reading a couple of more thought-intensive books that I’ve had to delay: Daniel Rabuzzi’s The Choir Boats: Volume One of Longing for Yount and Carrie Host’s Between Me and the River. We’ve also made the first couple of recipes out of the breakfast cookbook and a bacon cookbook we picked up over Christmas, so reviews of those will probably show up in the next few weeks!

There’s something a bit terrifying about having to catch up on nearly three years’ worth of insomnia-induced lack of productive output, but I’ve finally managed to pick a spot and start digging, which ought to make things easier.

Review book courtesy of Penguin Group

Many of us are curious about the private lives of royalty, both in the past and the present. What could be more tantalizing than the relationships (or lack thereof) that occur between the royal sheets? Leslie Carroll has created a fascinating read about not only some of the more famous unsuccessful royal marriages, but of successful ones as well. It’s a journey into the past showing that while some things change throughout the years, others stay the same.

I must admit, I was excited to see Leslie Carroll’s Notorious Royal Marriages: A Juicy Journey Through Nine Centuries of Dynasty, Destiny, and Desire find its way into my review pile. Ever since reading The Devil’s Queen, I’ve become more and more curious about royal marriages and what they entailed. Ms. Carroll provides an enjoyable and informative romp in and out of various monarchs’ bedchambers, often in the company of a mistress or two. One of the things that made this such an informative read for me was the way that Ms. Carroll was able to summarize political intrigues and factions so that even though explanations were minimal, I still understood why events were happening the way they were. There are few things more frustrating to me as a reader than not understanding why things are happening in a certain fashion.

One of those few things, however, is not knowing exactly which person an author is referring to. I realize that in royal courts, names can be handed down in the same manner as a favorite piece of jewelry, but there were many times throughout the book where I wasn’t sure if she was referring to a person I’d met in the last chapter or to a different relation. A few genealogy charts would have helped me to see the relationships in an easily comprehensible fashion. (Granted, they would probably have looked more like spiderwebs than linear charts, but that’s why inbreeding and consanguinity became problems as royal houses progressed…)

Another thing that I appreciate about Ms. Carroll’s writing is that it does not feel as if she is attempting to solicit sympathy for one partner or the other. Possible reasons for antagonistic feelings are explained, as opposed to typecasting one or the other as cold or unfeeling. It also fascinated me to see how some couples, such as Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, grew closer to each other towards the end of their marriages. The stories and hearsay, based upon what I’ve heard, seem to portray their marriages as static.

Quite possibly, Ms. Carroll’s greatest strength lies in portraying these royals as not the ruling elite, but as people, with faults and foibles. It made it much easier to relate to them, because I can read their stories and see a few mistakes that I’ve made in my own relationships. The easiest way to get me interested in history is to talk about the individual people and who they were, not only what they did. Notorious Royal Marriages does this very well, and that’s why I enjoyed it so much.