For our twelfth and final literary rendezvous, I decided to finally read Wellingtonian Elizabeth Knox’s The Vintner’s Luck, a book I’ve been intending to read for quite some time.
The hardest kind of book to talk about, I think, is one that you liked but didn’t necessarily love. That’s what Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees is to me.
I wanted The Cuckoo's Calling to be good. The actual mystery is intriguing and following the clues is always fun. But Rowling’s style, in the context of adult fiction, just isn’t for me.
I feel it’s my duty to state, right here and now, that The Magicians is not, in fact, Harry Potter feat. sex, swearing, and alcohol.
Sherman Alexie’s memoir, You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, is a quilt of personal essays and poems and pages are filled with grief.
The Hate U Give follows sixteen-year-old Starr Carter who lives in the hood surrounded by poverty and gang violence but goes to school in the burbs surrounded by rich white kids.
I’ve expounded the virtues of nonfiction before, but (somewhat hypocritically) I don’t read it very often. Every now and then, however, I come across a real gem.
The Conductor is a fictionalised account of the Siege of Leningrad (now known as Saint Petersburg), in Soviet Russia during World War II.