We are quite pleased to announce that the winner of The Orphanmaster ARC is . . .

Karen!

Congratulations Karen — by the time this posts, we’ll have already gotten in touch to facilitate the giving away of the stuff. Looking forward to hearing what you think. Happy reading, all!!

It’s 1663 in the tiny, hardscrabble Dutch colony of New Amsterdam, now present-day southern Manhattan. Orphan children are going missing, and among those looking into the mysterious state of affairs are a quick-witted twenty-two-year-old trader, Blandine von Couvering, herself an orphan, and a dashing British spy named Edward Drummond.

Suspects abound, including the governor’s wealthy nephew, a green-eyed aristocrat with decadent tastes; an Algonquin trapper who may be possessed by a demon that turns people into cannibals; and the colony’s own corrupt and conflicted orphanmaster. Both the search for the killer and Edward and Blandine’s newfound romance are endangered, however, when Blandine is accused of being a witch and Edward is sentenced to hang for espionage. Meanwhile, war looms as the English king plans to wrest control of the colony.

As you know, I’m a big fan of historical fiction. So when I heard about this bad boy, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it. Picture it: a chaotic new world, a charismatic heroine, a betrothal gone wrong, an English spy for heaven’s sake, and a mystery involving missing children. *drool* If you can get past the fairly brutal start (and I’m not even particularly squeamish), you’ve got a lot in store for you.

The most wonderful part of the book was Blandine. She’s a headstrong trader unafraid to put herself equal with men, a fierce gunsmith, an ale-drinker, a lover, and of course, the most attractive woman in the settlement. (Could you imagine being labeled the most beautiful woman in present-day Manhattan? Ha!) She is at once bullishly independent and the stereotypical soft woman, always tending to those in need. An orphan herself, Blandine feels obligated to investigate when orphans begin to go missing in the settlement. And that’s when things start to get busy. There’s the missing orphan mystery, there’s Blandine’s relationship with her fiance and her relationship with Drummond (the English spy), there’s the trading aspect of Blandine’s life and the day-to-day life in the settlement, then there’s the life and times of the orphan children . . . oh, and then there’s the fleeing of town because Blandine is accused of being a witch and Drummond gets discovered and charged with espionage. Wait! Let’s not forget about the impending war between the Dutch colonies and the English (who are coming to take that shit). Hold on!  There’s also the haunting legend of the witika – also known as the wendigo, a mythical spirit of the Algonquin nation that has the power to possess humans and cause intense cravings for human flesh (which took me back to those Scary Stories books that I read as a kid — remember those??? On Fridays, our kindergarten teacher used to turn out the lights and read us a scary story with a candle lit. Yes, we were five. She was awesome.).  There is so freaking much going on in this novel, I had to force myself to stay focused. I often failed.

Still, this book was good. Well, good on paper, anyway. Ever heard that saying “good on paper, bad in bed”?

It’s like when you’re on match.com and your date checks aaaaalll the boxes and then you meet and there’s absolutely no chemistry. That was me and this book. No chemistry. I could recognize where things were good, I could recognize the intricacies involved in the various plot lines (although I’m 100% sure that I didn’t get all of the nuances), I knew who I should be rooting for and rooting against. We just didn’t spark.

But! I want to give you a chance to love it, so . . . Giveaway time! Didn’t see that coming, did you? Yes, this ARC can be all yours, mythical cannibalistic creatures and all. There aren’t even any coffee stains! Hot damn. All you have to do is leave a comment below before midnight on Wednesday, May 9th.Winners will be picked at random (by title) and announced here on Friday, May 11. U.S. and Canada only, unless you pay for shipping (and then I’d send it to wherever you want). Good luck — and you have to report back and let us know what you thought!

• Open the book that you’re reading to a random page
•  Share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• Don’t be a jerk: NO SPOILERS!
• Be sure to include the title & author.

Between them the barrier was just as high, just as broad, and just as firm as if in Clare did not run that strain of black blood. In truth, it was higher, broader, and firmer; because for her there were perils, not known, or imagined, by those others who had no such secrets to alarm or endanger them.

Passing, Nella Larsen (Kimberly)

Alright, out with it. What are you reading?? Or even better . . . what do you wish you were reading?

• Open the book that you’re reading to a random page
•  Share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• Don’t be a jerk: NO SPOILERS!
• Be sure to include the title & author.

But it was too late. Shrieking, weeping, rushing out alone or dragging their loved ones with them, the residents of New Amsterdam performed a wholesale retreat from the Stadt Huys fright show.

The Orphanmaster, Jean Zimmerman (Kimberly)

Sharing tiiiiime: what are you reading this week?

On a small island in a glacier-fed lake on Alaska’s Kenai Peninsula, a marriage is unraveling. Gary, driven by thirty years of diverted plans, and Irene, haunted by a tragedy in her past, are trying to rebuild their life together. Following the outline of Gary’s old dream, they’re hauling logs to Caribou Island in good weather and in terrible storms, in sickness and in health, to build the kind of cabin that drew them to Alaska in the first place.

But this island is not right for Irene. They are building without plans or advice, and when winter comes early, the overwhelming isolation of the prehistoric wilderness threatens their bond to the core. Caught in the emotional maelstrom is their adult daughter, Rhoda, who is wrestling with the hopes and disappointments of her own life. Devoted to her parents, she watches helplessly as they drift further apart.

A portrait of desolation, violence, and the darkness of the soul, it is an explosive and unforgettable novel from a writer of limitless possibility.

I know I already mentioned Caribou Island my Vacation Roundup, but I just wanted to take a quick minute and reiterate how fantastic I think it is. I thought it deserved its own moment in the sun, so to speak. Plus, I wanted to mark it as a Top Pick. You’re welcome.

From my Vacation Roundup (and please pardon me for quoting myself):

This baby was the dark horse of the group. And when I say dark, I mean dark. Set in Alaska, it’s the story of Irene and Gary, and their attempt to save their marriage by building a cabin on Caribou Island. (Don’t ask, just read.) Also of note: their daughter, Rhoda, and her relationship with her shitface boyfriend, Jim. You want to shake Rhoda and tell her to WAKE UP JIM IS AN IDIOT but then you feel bad because Rhoda is the only one who knows that when it comes to her parents, well, things just ain’t right. This book is pretty powerful. It’s bleak and it’s complicated, and did I mention dark? Vann doesn’t mince words, either . . . it’s solidly packed, without any fat to trim around the edges. Read it. I will repeat: READ IT.

I found myself in that wonderful post-fantastic-read bubble of wowness, and while I was poking around for more information on Vann and Caribou Island, I came across many bad reviews of the book. I try very hard to avoid reviews of a book that I want to read before I actually read it, so I was pretty surprised. When I started reading the reviews, however, I saw that their dislikes tended to be my likes. Por ejemplo, some readers didn’t like the various narrators. I, on the other hand, think that tool is crucial to Gary and Irene’s story, and also to seeing the similarities between that relationship and the relationship between Jim and Rhoda. There’s a multi-generational thing going on here, you see. It’s tragic and intense. Maybe I just fell so hard for it because I’m just tragic and intense. HA.

Many more of the poor reviews were based on the “somber,” “depressing,” miserable,” “insert similar-yet-appropriate adjective here” tone of Vann’s plot and storytelling. To me, though, that’s what makes the damn book. Yes, it’s all of those things to a degree, but not gratuitously so; the novel is sincere and plainly wonderfully written. The mood is in the characters, it’s in the situations, it’s in the landscape itself. If you’re not a fan of that aspect of it, then I suppose you wouldn’t like the novel as a whole. But I clearly did.*

*See above re: tragic and intense.

When a virus makes everyone over the age of eighteen infertile, would-be parents pay teen girls to conceive and give birth to their children, making teens the most prized members of society. Girls sport fake baby bumps and the school cafeteria stocks folic-acid-infused food.

Sixteen-year-old identical twins Melody and Harmony were separated at birth and have never met until the day Harmony shows up on Melody’s doorstep. Up to now, the twins have followed completely opposite paths. Melody has scored an enviable conception contract with a couple called the Jaydens. While they are searching for the perfect partner for Melody to bump with, she is fighting her attraction to her best friend, Zen, who is way too short for the job.

Harmony has spent her whole life in Goodside, a religious community, preparing to be a wife and mother. She believes her calling is to convince Melody that pregging for profit is a sin. But Harmony has secrets of her own that she is running from.

When Melody is finally matched with the world-famous, genetically flawless Jondoe, both girls’ lives are changed forever. A case of mistaken identity takes them on a journey neither could have ever imagined, one that makes Melody and Harmony realize they have so much more than just DNA in common.

I thought Wither, the first book in the Chemical Garden series, was pretty decent, so I had high hopes for this one. The premise is similar, but instead of people dying of a virus in the early years of adulthood, they become sterile. I know in theory that two books about a similar subject means absolutely nothing in terms of how enjoyable or well-written they are, but what can I say? I was optimistic. (You know where this is going, don’t you?)

Because reproduction isn’t possible after people turn 18, girls from 12-18 are popping out babies left and right, sometimes as “amateurs” and sometimes as “professionals.” The professionals are basically surrogates, but more . . . businesslike. Contracts and test scores and all of that. They look down on the amateurs, who are generally less desirable than their well-paid counterparts.

Against this backdrop we meet Harmony and Melody (apparently their mom was hepped up on goofballs when they were born), twins separated at birth and adopted into two very different lifestyles — churchy and nonchurchy, to keep it simple. Melody is a professional who is more than ready to be “bumped” (and needs to be soon, according to the terms of her contract). When Harmony discovers that she has a twin sister, she flees churchytown (Goodside) and shows up at Melody’s house, hoping to a) convince her sister that she’s living a wicked life, 2) convert her sister and z) persuade her to live in churchytown. Melody is like nuh-UH, Harmony is hurt and confused, then there’s this big WOMP WOMP moment of mistaken identity, and things get messy.

Look. It’s not all bad. Harmony and Melody (I cringe every time) actually turn out to be semi-admirable in the fact that they stand up for what they come to believe in. Even so, their emotions are only surface-level and there isn’t as much tension as you’d expect; in spite of the fact that there’s a sequel, the relationship between the girls seems a bit too neat and tidy for me. Aside form that, most of the time I found their characters (and most of the others) pretty predictable and worthy of my eye-rolling. To her credit, McCafferty just MIGHT be an amazing writer. She seems to have captured the ridiculous colloquialisms of trendy 16 year olds — and even imagined some new ones that have a possibility of popping up in another 15 years or so. Gotta give her credit for that.

The plot has such potential, but just doesn’t pan out in a way that I find satisfying at all. The only reason I finished it was because it proved to be a pretty quick read, thank goodness.

• Open the book that you’re reading to a random page
•  Share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• Don’t be a jerk: NO SPOILERS!
• Be sure to include the title & author.

Ten minutes later, to the surprise of both of us, I was driving past the old guy and his ever-urinating dog again. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him gesturing excitedly, shouting at me that I had gone the wrong way, but as this was already abundantly evident to me, I ignored his hopping around and went left at the junction.

The Lost Continent: Travels in Small Town America, Bill Bryson (Kimberly)

What are you reading this week?

So. There’s this thing called spring cleaning — maybe you’ve heard of it. In my place of residence, it happens very rarely. But I’ve decided to put it into practice when it comes to my TBR list. My criteria:

Do I really want to read this?

That’s it.

It didn’t take me long to weed through and remove everything that I wouldn’t be excited about reading. I only managed to remove about 10 books from the list, but I do feel a bit better.

Do you keep any kind of to-read list? Do you dust it off from time to time and reevaluate?

The bus, obviously.

We’re not talking about Greyhound here, folks. We’re not even talking about Megabus. No no, for the first few weeks of un viaje de America del Sur, we were talking about Via Bariloche, otherwise known as the swankest bus you will ever ride. We’re talking champagne and whiskey nightcaps. We’re talking abo–what’s that? How does this relate to books, you ask? Oh right, books. What I mean to say is that South America was big and several days of my life were spent on one bus or another. Sometimes more than one. Needless to say, I read. A lot. Then I proceeded to traipse on a glacier/climb a mountain/frolick on the largest salt flat in the world/giggle at llamas/rock the shit out of the Inca Trail (what does that mean? I dunno). What I mean to say is that for the majority of my vacation books, the ones where I didn’t provide a full review (like Heft and The Dressmaker), I think a roundup will suffice, no? Si, amigos. Si.

American Gods  by Neil Gaiman

Yes, I was the only person in the world who hadn’t read anything by Neil Gaiman. The funny thing about this was that it took me a while to get into the whole fantasy aspect of it. In fact, most of the time while I was reading it, I was thinking, yeah, meh, it’s alright. The main character, Shadow, is pretty cool, but there are all of these gods wandering around and I wasn’t sure what to make of them. And then I got to the end, stepped back, and may have said aloud, “Wow. That was pretty incredible.” Oh, and also? Samantha Black Crow’s outburst in Chapter 13 is, quite possibly, the best monologue ever. Ever. Read it.

I am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

I loved reading the Book Thief so I was naturally a little wary of this one. You know how it is when you love a book and then can’t wait to read another book by the author and then it’s a huge disappointment? (I’m looking at you, Wally Lamb.) This one did not disappoint. Who doesn’t love a story about a young kid who goes around giving people what they truly deserve while looking for his place in the world? The main character is endearing and it’s written in such a way that you keep wanting to know what happens next. The ending isn’t really satisfying to me, but *shrug*. Can’t have everything. Read it.

Letters of a Woman Homesteader by Elinore Pruitt Stewart

This one just didn’t float my boat. It’s a true account of a woman setting up home in Wyoming the early 1900s. I was thinking, yay! I-am-woman-hear-me-roar-ness + all things around the home + a bit of a historical setting = sweet. What I got instead was . . . well, boring. Not really much else to say about this one, unfortunately. Use this one as a paperweight.

Case Histories by Kate Atkinson

This one had been sitting over on the TBR pile for quite some time, and I’d heard a lot about it. What I didn’t hear was that it was SO mothereffing sad. Sheesus. In this tale of multiple unsolved mysteries (R.I.P. Robert Stack), the various viewpoints throw you around a bit at first, but they settle and I was able to enjoy it. Jackson Brodie isn’t the larger-than-life main character that I was expecting, but it doesn’t matter; the story is strong enough with him simply tying the pieces together. Read it.

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks

I liked this one even better than March. It is 1666, and the plague has gripped a small village in rural England. Through the eyes of Anna Firth, we see the precautions taken (and not taken), the fears that grip the villagers as they watch so many around them die, and the ways in which people change when death is – quite literally – on their doorsteps. It’s quite a beautiful story, really, and it’s based on a real village. Gotta love authenticity. Read it.

One More River by Mary Glickman

Ahhhh, the search to find out who we are and where we come from. It’s the early 60s, it’s the South, and Mickey  Moe is in love with Laura Ann. Trouble is, her parents don’t really think that he’s good people. So off he goes, down back roads and upriver to search for the truth about his father. As Mickey Moe peels back the layers one by one, the story of his father is also told in real time, so we see what really happened, which I always appreciate. If you’re in the mood for some southern effed-up-ness, then by all means. Read it.

The Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison

I think I read this a long time ago, but I didn’t remember so I picked it up again. This is another sad one, but in a kind of that’s-a-shame kind of way . . . as in, it’s sad that people are beaten down to a shell of themselves. It’s sad when we accept the reality of what the world tells us as opposed to looking at what’s inside ourselves. That being said, I didn’t like it as much as I feel I was supposed to like it. Does that make sense? I mean, it’s Kind of a Big Deal, so for that reason . . . Read it. But if you’re not into things that are Kind of a Big Deal, then . . . use it as a paperweight.

The Reconstructionist by Nick Arvin

This one has gotten a lot of good reviews. But me no likey. Actually, the first part wasn’t bad — Ellis, our protagonist, is a tad adrift until someone from his past (okay, his dead brother’s old girlfriend Heather) pushes him toward her husband, Boggs, and BAM! A new career as a reconstructionist. I found the work pretty interesting; Boggs and Ellis are hired by attorneys to essentially recreate accidents to find out how they actually occurred. The book feels broken into two distinct parts, and in the second part, things get weird and kind of go to shit . . . Ellis and Heather have been knocking boots in her RV and then Boggs goes off the deep end and goes MIA when he finds out. This leads Ellis to drive around for days looking for him, which means revisiting all of their old accident sites, and that takes Ellis to the scene of his brother’s death, and a whoooooooooole lotta mess is stirred up. The second part just lost it for me. Use this one as a paperweight.

Caribou Island by David Vann

This baby was the dark horse of the group. And when I say dark, I mean dark. Set in Alaska, it’s the story of Irene and Gary, and their attempt to save their marriage by building a cabin on Caribou Island. (Don’t ask, just read.) Also of note: their daughter, Rhoda, and her relationship with her shitface boyfriend, Jim. You want to shake Rhoda and tell her to WAKE UP JIM IS AN IDIOT but then you feel bad because Rhoda is the only one who knows that when it comes to her parents, well, things just ain’t right. This book is pretty powerful. It’s bleak and it’s complicated, and did I mention dark? Vann doesn’t mince words, either . . . it’s solidly packed, without any fat to trim around the edges. Read it. I will repeat: READ IT.

Has anyone else taken a trip to avoid the not-so-wintery winter? What did you read while you were away?

Tess, an aspiring seamstress, thinks she’s had an incredibly lucky break when she is hired by famous designer Lady Lucile Duff Gordon to be a personal maid on the Titanic’s doomed voyage. Once on board, Tess catches the eye of two men, one a roughly-hewn but kind sailor and the other an enigmatic Chicago millionaire. But on the fourth night, disaster strikes.

Amidst the chaos and desperate urging of two very different suitors, Tess is one of the last people allowed on a lifeboat. Tess’s sailor also manages to survive unharmed, witness to Lady Duff Gordon’s questionable actions during the tragedy. Others—including the gallant Midwestern tycoon—are not so lucky.

On dry land, rumors about the survivors begin to circulate, and Lady Duff Gordon quickly becomes the subject of media scorn and later, the hearings on the Titanic. Set against a historical tragedy but told from a completely fresh angle, The Dressmaker is an atmospheric delight filled with all the period’s glitz and glamour, all the raw feelings of a national tragedy and all the contradictory emotions of young love.

Tess, a maid in England, wants noting more than to be a designer. So when she finds last-minute employment on the decks of the Titanic with one of the most respected haute-couture designers in the world, she can’t believe her good fortune. but when he ship goes down (come on, that’s not even a spoiler, for heaven’s sake), everyone learns that survival means fighting for yourself . . . and for some people, it doesn’t always mean fighting for what’s right.

Torn between desire and dignity — and of course, the affections of two  men — Tess wants to remain an independent thinker, but at what cost?

I like Tess, I do. But sometimes it pains me that she runs off at the mouth. I love that she’s a strong, independent character. But at other times it kind of bothered me that she wanted to get into the game, so to speak, but didn’t want to  play by the rules. And then I got annoyed with myself because that’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it? If we don’t like the rules, change them? I was also pleasantly surprised with the outcome of the love triangle, especially since I was ready to roll my eyes to high heaven at a predictable result. Alcott, I must admit, you got my number.

Alcott’s characters are great in that they’re truly human, often making poor judgements without true malice in heir hearts. Sometimes they’re abrupt, saying the wrong things at the wrong times. And really, who doesn’t love a bit o’ that? I wonder, then, why I’m not tied to them too strongly. At the end of the day, most of them didn’t stay with me, except The Unsinkable Molly Brown. Now that’s a woman who I want to read more about — and here’s where historical fiction can be tricksy, and why I love it ohsomuch. Many of the characters are real, and the line between fact and fiction is so faint, it’s often unrecognizable.

The prose isn’t always elegant, but it’s a solid story about tragedy on a large scale, missed opportunities and fresh starts.