Val Muller

This is the first in a series of middle-grade books following two girls, Valerie and Samantha. The girls are best friends, but they are total opposites. Sam is fashion-conscious while Val is not, for example. But their opposites make them good friends, and even Val’s mother shakes her head at the creative games they come up with. In this book, the two girls sneak out to the barn in search of a mysterious possum Val’s mother has been talking about. They follow the possum through a mirror that had been covered in a tarp and find themselves in a mysterious world—the world of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. (I won’t explain the possum; you’ll find out at the end.)

The girls recognize some of the things they encounter, such as a girl named Snow (as in Snow White) and other familiar elements from fairy tales with which Val is familiar. Befriending Snow and some other helpful characters, the girls must navigate the world (and the villains) of fairy tales. It’s definitely a book primarily for girls, as both protagonists are female, and the story focuses on the fairy tales having to do with evil stepmothers and marriages. It’s a clever mix of modern storyline and classic fairy tale, and the author mixes it up enough that it never feels stale. The reader is also kept in suspense during the times when Val and Sam cannot remember certain elements of the tales—remembering them would have helped them solve the problems they encounter much more quickly. This suspense will keep the reader turning the pages. I could see myself having enjoyed these books when I was a girl Val and Sam’s age.  

The narrator is kept a mystery for the first chapter or so, until we learn the narrator is actually the garden gnome that stands watch in Val’s parents’ garden. At times, the narrator’s personality came through, which I found enjoyable. At other times, the narrator’s personality faded into the tale, which disappointed me because I found the gnome’s voice and tone humorous, adding to the story.

Val’s mother also plays an important role in the story. She’s the one who points out the possum in the barn, and she’s been writing a story (that she knows Val and Sam are reading) about Valerie and Samantha going on adventures. It’s even hinted at that the whole tale might be the result of reading Val’s mother’s manuscript and letting their imaginations go wild—though the girls agree that it was all too real to have been simply imagiation.

I received a review copy of this book in exchange for my honest opinion. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. I’m reviewing the other two books as part of a blog tour, so stay tuned for more!

It’s always refreshing to read a classic. While I appreciate plot-driven works, there’s just something about a book like Hurston’s, one full of figurative language and imagery, that quenches my intellectual thirst as a reader.

Hurston’s novel follows the life of Janie, a woman on a quest to find herself, love, and meaning in life. As a young child, Janie was raised by her grandmother, a woman who knew slavery. Nanny uses her own life experiences to shape her goals for Janie: Nanny was raped by her master and almost killed by the master’s jealous wife after the birth of her daughter. Janie’s mother was raped by a white schoolteacher and then ran off from responsibility. Nanny did not want to see the same thing happen to Janie.

As a result, Janie is married off at age 17 to a much older man simply because he can provide for her. The problem is, Janie has never been satisfied with simply filling her basic human needs. She experiences an epiphany under a pear tree. The “blossoming pear tree in the back-yard….called her to come and gaze on a mystery.” The tree is described in a beautiful and suggestive passage comparing the tree to “a flute song long forgotten in another existence and remembered again,” a song “that had nothing to do with her ears.” She watches the bees among the blossoms and experiences a vision of perfection in marriage, “the thousand sister-calyxes arch[ing] to meet the love embrace and the ecstatic shiver of the tree from root to tiniest branch creaming n every blossom and frothing with delight.” It was a revelation that “left her limp and languid.” This epiphany is what Janie uses to compare all future relationships.

Needless to say, Logan, her first husband, cannot compare. He is older, he’s focused on working his farm, he doesn’t wash his feet before bed, and she hates “de way his head is so long one way and so flat on de sides and dat pone uh fat back uh his neck.” In short, “the vision of Logan Killicks was desecrating the pear tree.”

Janie runs away with a man younger than Logan (but at least ten years older than her). Jody starts the town of Eatonville in Flordia, an all-black incorporated town. At first Janie is flattered to be the mayor’s wife, but as time goes on, she realizes that Jody has stifled her freedom. The men in the town are infatuated by Janie’s beauty, specifically her hair. Being three-quarters Caucasian (from her family’s history of rape), her hair is much softer than the other women’s, and it makes her stand out. Jody catches someone stroking Janie’s long braid (without Janie’s knowledge) and forces her to keep her hair tied up for the next twenty-odd years.

At nearly age 40, Janie becomes free of her marriage to Jody, and she meets a younger man named Tea Cake. At age 25, he can’t ignore his love for her despite the age difference. I won’t spoil the ending, but Tea Cake definitely fits Janie’s pear tree vision.  Through the story, Janie does find what she was looking for. The horizon is used as a symbol throughout, and at the story’s end, despite its bittersweet qualities, Janie “pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net,” with “so much of life in its meshes!” She learns what life and love truly is through the novel, and it’s an experience you’ll enjoy discovering along with her.

The challenge of this book is its use of dialect. Hurston has become famous for her anthropological use of diction. Words are spelled the way they were spoken among southern towns in the 1920s and ‘30s. “Ah” is used instead of the pronoun “I,” for example. While it presents an initial slowing of reading, it adds lots of flavor, and by the third chapter, you’ll barely notice it. The rich use of figurative language and interwoven symbols makes this a rewarding reading experience.

This story takes place in 1659 Bavaria. Although it’s called The Hangman’s Daughter, it mainly follows the hangman, Jakob Kuisl, as he fights to solve a mystery. A child’s body has washed up in the river with supposed markings of witchcraft, and Jakob and his allies are worried that this will begin a witch-scare like the one that happened thirty years earlier (and resulted in the torture and deaths of many innocent women).

I’d heard a lot about this bestseller, so I was hoping for something stellar, but it wasn’t as good as I expected. Part of that, I think, is because the book is a translation (it was originally written in German). The writing seemed uneven to me. At times, I would get lost in the narrative, but most of the time the writing seemed painfully slow, and I watched the percentage number on the bottom of my Kindle screen creep along. For the first thirty percent of the book, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to finish it. The story, to me, didn’t really pick up until I was 75% of the way through.

It definitely started out with an intriguing preface, illustrating the disturbing details of being a hangman. This profession, in the 1600s, was frowned upon but necessary. The hangman, with his knowledge of the human body (torture and medicine combined) was shunned by townfolk. He was also tasked with clearing the trash from outside of homes each week, and he and his family were considered “dishonorable.” The caste-like nature of this society is starkly different from what I know as an American, and it was interesting yet aggravating to me. Jakob has more integrity than anyone else in the book and should not have been treated so horribly. The fact that he was, and that he hated his job yet found ways of making it work, made him a likeable character. During the novel, he is tasked with torturing a confession out of a suspected witch, the midwife. Since Jakob respects the midwife (she delivered his own children), he uses his knowledge to delay the more gruesome parts of her torture, giving him time to solve the mystery (and disprove that it’s witchcraft). The majority of the book follows Jakob trying to track down a character known as “the devil” and determine what his role is in the murder.

Because of the title, I was waiting for the hangman’s daughter, Magdalena, to play a role—which she did about three-quarters of the way through. A doctor’s son has taken an interest in Magdalena, but since she is “dishonorable,” his family (and the rest of the town) disapproves of the match. I didn’t learn much about her, and as a result I felt too distanced. In fact, I felt this way about most of the characters. Some of the scenes took too long to get through. Some of the dialogue seemed unnecessary. And sometimes, when I wanted more details, the story fell short. A few more well-chosen details could have made me feel closer to many of the characters. I didn’t hate the villains the way I feel I should have, either. I’m not sure how much of this might be a result of the translation, though.

The Kindle edition did come with illustrations. My black-and-white screen didn’t do justice to these, but they did help fill in visual gaps. A hard copy or a bigger/brighter screen (cue ad for Kindle Fire!) would have helped.

I might be holding my standards a bit higher because this is a bestseller, but this is my honest opinion. I enjoyed the details of the story that gave me a taste of life in the 1600s: the smells, the discovery of a new powder called “coffee,” the strange herbs midwives and doctors would use for various ailments. I would have wanted more details about all the characters. The bottom line: it’s an interesting story that introduces a reader to the culture of 1659 Bavaria, but it could have been condensed, or kept the same length with lots more details added. I’m glad I borrowed it for free using Amazon Prime…

I was given an advanced review copy of this work to review. The YA novel is a sci-fi adventure in which a young man named Jason must help fight a race of giant, interstellar wasps in order to save Earth. The bottom line: Sometimes humorous, sometimes terrifying, and always imaginative, this high-tech, interplanetary tale will keep you buzzing through page after page. You will never look at bees the same way!

In fact, as I’m writing this review, I am watching a handful of carpenter bees ravage my wooden deck, and it’s actually making my skin crawl. The story follows a race of giant bees—bigger than humans—with their eyes on Planet Earth. The most terrifying is the General, a nightmarishly huge wasp bent on destroying humans.

The story is full of technology—the humans have advanced from our present-day technology, but so have the bees. They have sinister technology, characters, and motivations that underscore the novel with a tone of foreboding dread: The Death Watch, the Eternity Drive, the War Machine, Death Rays, and the deadly General. Even in the story’s lighter parts, these threats are constantly in the background, giving the reader a sense of urgency. Still, not all the bees are bad, and I enjoyed the more light-hearted interactions Jason has with the friendlier apians and was touched by some of the more poignant moments as well.

I also enjoyed the themes running through the book: Jason and his father are firm believers in the possibilities offered by education and science. Through the conflict with the bees, they risk their lives to use science to help the Earth. Another theme the author makes us question is the nature of humanity. Though under attack by a horrendous race of bees, some of the humans are still sticking to their own factions, valuing loyalty to individual countries rather even over loyalty to the human race as a whole. As a music lover, I also liked how Jason links music and science, and uses music to his own advantage in a way reminiscent of Dune. And suggestions about the nature of the Bees’ history and the nature of magic versus science was intriguing as well.

I enjoyed the story overall. There are places where the imagery truly carries each scene (descriptions like “blood orange light” stress the sinister intentions of the bees). My one wish was to be just a bit deeper inside some of the character’s heads before all the storylines come together. Still, I enjoyed the use of future slang; and overall, the suspense of the story carried the writing, making this a page turner and a quick read.

I recommend this book for fun-loving sci-fi fans, apian lovers, and readers liking a multi-cultural examination of the way we humans live, and can live, in this world.