JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

Any Way the Wind Blows by Rainbow Rowell

In Carry On, Simon Snow and his friends realized that everything they thought they understood about the world might be wrong. And in Wayward Son, they wondered whether everything they understood about themselves might be wrong.

In Any Way the Wind Blows, Simon and Baz and Penelope and Agatha have to decide how to move forward.

For Simon, that means deciding whether he still wants to be part of the World of Mages — and if he doesn’t, what does that mean for his relationship with Baz? Meanwhile Baz is bouncing between two family crises and not finding any time to talk to anyone about his newfound vampire knowledge. Penelope would love to help, but she’s smuggled a cursed American Normal into London, and now she isn’t sure what to do with him. And Agatha? Well, Agatha Wellbelove has had enough.

Any Way the Wind Blows takes the gang back to England, back to Watford, and back to their families for their longest and most emotionally wrenching adventure yet. This book is a finale. It tells secrets and answers questions and lays ghosts to rest.

The third and final book in this young adult trilogy, Rainbow Rowell’s Any Way the Wind Blows brings Simon and Baz’s story to a close. It provides closure for Simon’s origin story, as well as the other characters we’ve met along the way.

Strengths include humour and wit, and the existence of magic in the story and how it develops over the course of the novel. Interpersonal relationships and emotional intelligence is also another strength, as characters start to cross paths again and are forced to confront deep-rooted insecurities.

“I thought maybe Snow didn’t want to share a bed with me because he was afraid I’d bite him in my sleep. But apparently that’s fine! Bloodletting is fine – intimacy is the real taboo!”

This final book in the series will please fans of the series who have been holding out for some Simon and Baz romance. But to be perfectly honest, this book has a pretty non-existent plot. It feels like it’s been written purely to serve the fans, and it wasn’t necessarily written because it needed to be. Hardly anything happens, and the novel is mainly driven by dialogue. The mystery comes in quite late in the novel and is solved rather fast. The ‘villain’ in the book doesn’t hold enough presence in the novel, and is not intimidating enough for his role.

The best part of the book is the moments of humour peppered throughout the chapter, but they’re few and far in between. And the novel moves between so many different characters, it gives a bit of whiplash. I feel like those who have read the first two books will be interested in seeing how it ends, and the writing is certainly accessible enough to make reading this quite easy, but overall, this is quite a disappointing conclusion. The plot was so limited it actually felt like book 2 in a trilogy.

“It wasn’t quite like that. I didn’t chicken out. It was more like I got overwhelmed. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Baz had said and how I needed to talk to him. Immediately, it felt like some window was closing. It was probably already closed, and I’d need to break it open.”

There were certain elements of the characterisation that didn’t quite ring true. Baz and Simon are really horny for each other in this, which is fine, but a lot of the book is about Simon trying to mature and have a real relationship and the introspection feels fleeting and overlooked at times. Any moments of tension or clashing pass over so quickly, you wonder why they had to happen in the first place.

Also, if my memory serves me correctly, Simon was quite anxious and shy about his feelings for Baz in previous books. And in this book, he’s gone from 0-100?

“The good thing about my aunt’s terrible flat is that I can do some light hunting without even leaving the building. I just have to dispose of the empty rodents when I’m done.”

For readers who are up to date with the trilogy, it’s nice to see how the story ends. But this is not the explosive finale that I anticipated. Readership skews female, 14+

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow #3)
Rainbow Rowell
July 2021
Pan Macmillan Book Publishers

The Electric Kingdom by David Arnold

A genre-smashing story of survival, hope and love amid a ravaged earth.

A deadly flu has swept the globe, leaving a shell of the world that once was. Among the survivors are eighteen-year-old Nico and her dog, who are on a journey devised by Nico’s father to find a mythical portal; a young artist named Kit, who knows almost nothing of the world outside the old abandoned cinema he was raised in; and the enigmatic Deliverer, who lives Life after Life in an attempt to put the world back together.

David Arnold’s post-apocalyptic YA novel The Electric Kingdom is an ambitious saga, a unique twist on the frequently-tackled scenario that is the near eradication of humanity. After a swarm of flies, as yet unbeatable, descend on Earth and wipe out most of the population, few remain alive. We meet a cast of characters determined to survive in a barren wasteland, a ravaged world full of danger.

Not your stereotypical fantasy novel about the end-of-the-world, although perhaps a little familiar during current times, The Electric Kingdom is written in third person and switches between three characters — eighteen-year-old Nico, twelve-year-old Kit and the mysterious and unnamed Deliverer, whose role in this story doesn’t become clear until the end.

Readers will find themselves enthralled in the journey until the final pages.

“The room was quiet, the brush of a hand in his hair. Kit debated whether to tell her what he really thought: that when he stood at the open window of his art classroom, held a breeze in his face, he had long ago resigned himself to the reality that he would never know where that breeze came from, or where it was going.”

David’s writing style is quite stripped and minimalistic, which is ironic considering this book is over 400 pages. Dialogue is taut and clipped, and it works. Prose is seamless, with short sentences. David only reveals information that is absolutely necessary, and readers will appreciate it.

There’s a strange sort of atmosphere to this book, like there’s something larger at play and you know you won’t understand it until the end. Characters mention deja vu, like they’ve been through these events before. There are moments of fear and tension, but there are also some really tender, sweet moments between characters. Moments where you get an insight into how their lives might’ve been if the flu never happened.

Above all else, The Electric Kingdom is about taking chances, pursuing risks, the endurance humanity and survival — it’s about how determined some people are to outlast any threats to their safety. The Electric Kingdom is not about how the world ended, it’s about the people left behind as they navigate through this new world.

“When the entirety of one’s universe is an old boarded-up farmhouse, there is no greater treasure than a dusty shoebox full of photographs. All smiles and kisses and travels and meticulously positioned foods on butcher blocks. Nico’s favourites were the ones from her parents’ honeymoon in Italy.”

Admittedly, the secondary cast of characters do blend together in the book. When Kit and Nico’s journeys become embroiled with others, and we meet multiple other characters of a similar age, it was hard to tell them apart. Their voices didn’t feel overly unique, and their experiences were quite similar. When some of them died, I didn’t feel much of an emotional response.

And some of the most heightened moments in the book – particularly the father and son with violent intentions – come incredibly late in the novel. I would’ve preferred if David brought forward some of the bigger moments in the novel so they didn’t all hit right at the end.

“Dead towns galore. Kit was amazed at just how many, small and tucked away. These days, he felt more breeze than human, floating in and through all these little towns, on the lookout for dreamers, Knowers of Things in open windows, observing their little worlds, wondering What (if anything) Lay Beyond.”

Recommended for teenage readers and young adults.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Electric Kingdom
David Arnold
February 2021
Text Publishing

Malorie by Josh Malerman

In the old world there were many rules. In the new world there is only one: don’t open your eyes.

In the seventeen years since the ‘creatures’ appeared, many people have broken that rule. Many have looked. Many have lost their minds, their lives, their loved ones.

In that time, Malorie has raised her two children – Olympia and Tom – on the run or in hiding. Now nearly teenagers, survival is no longer enough. They want freedom.

When a census-taker stops by their refuge, he is not welcome. But he leaves a list of names – of survivors building a future beyond the darkness – and on that list are two names Malorie knows.

Two names for whom she’ll break every rule, and take her children across the wilderness, in the hope of becoming a family again…

Josh Malerman’s Malorie is the sequel to the cultural sensation-turned-Netflix-movie Birdbox, starring Sandra Bullock.

In this follow up, Malorie is even more cautious and paranoid than when we last saw her. She’s had seventeen years to perfect her methods of survival. She’s got two teenage children now and even though they’re old enough to look after themselves, they’re teenagers and they don’t always obey the rules. They don’t remember the world before the creatures — sometimes they’re too trusting, and they don’t always understand why they can’t look outside at the real world.

Malorie needs to learn to trust her children. She needs to learn to loosen the reigns a little. She’s hyper-cautious and strict, and she doesn’t trust easily, and whilst it’s easy to understand her characterisation, her son Tom in particular grows quite resentful of her smothering nature over the course of the novel.

“Malorie thinks of Gary. It makes sense. A man arrives at the camp. He knocks. He speaks from the other side of the door. All good intentions, of course. Until you let him in, of course. Then he makes friends with the others, ingratiates himself to the point where your own kids turn on you, and presto, you’ve welcomed an old-world mad-man into your life.”

It’s fascinating reading this whilst living through a pandemic. You can suddenly relate to the characters’ fear of the unknown, the scepticism, the uncertainty and the doubt. The blindfolds feel strangely close to masks, and remembering myself watching the film — pre COVID-19 — with no idea of what was to come to the world, is a strange thought.

Malorie is a bit of a balancing act — road trip, survival story, family drama, teenage angst. There are so many different elements to the story and Josh does a really fantastic job of juggling them all and maintaining interest from the reader. There are lots of twists and turns, plot points I didn’t see coming. Although admittedly, there are some moments where Tom goes from being an understandably rebellious teenager, to being just that little bit too annoying and unlikable.

“Tom is stricken by how alive Malorie looks. Her eyes appear bright memories, realisations, decisions. The bag beside her is full. She wears a hoodie and long pants, gloves and boots. In one hand is the blindfold she just removed.”

Whilst you can read Malorie without having read or watched Birdbox, I’d advise you familiarise yourself with its predecessor. It would make for a richer and more enjoyable experience when reading Malorie. There are frequent mentions to events from the previous book, particularly surrounding the character Gary, and I do think readers who are unfamiliar with Birdbox will get confused easily.

“She thinks of Camp Yadin and how safe they were. She can almost feel the texture of the rope in her gloved hands, rope connecting each building, one of which housed canned goods, another with a garden beside it. She sees herself, waking there, walking there, living there, safe. She hears herself asking the teens what might be outside.”

Whilst the ending of the book is satisfactory and satisfying, I felt like the pacing was inconsistent. The book moves at a slow but tense pace, drawing the reader in and keeping them engaged throughout. But the ending is incredibly fast and rushed. I almost couldn’t believe Malerman was going to wrap up the story in such a short amount of pages, and yet, he did. I wish some more time had been spent on the ending.

Highly recommended, although do read or watch Birdbox first.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Malorie
Josh Malerman
August 2020
Hachette Book Publishers Australia

Flyaway by Kathleen Jennings

Bettina Scott lives a tidy, quiet life in Runagate, tending to her delicate mother and their well-kept garden after her father and brothers disappear – until a note arrives that sends Bettina into the scrublands beyond, searching for answers about what really happened to this town, and to her family.

For this is a land where superstitions hunt and folk tales dream – and power is there for the taking, for those willing to look.

19-year-old Bettina Scott lives with her mother; her father and two brothers disappeared three years earlier. Kathleen Jennings’ Flyaway is a gothic, mythical fantasy novella set within a Western Queensland town. Bettina has never found out what happened to them, and after a note implies one, or more, of her brothers is still alive, Bettina embarks on a journey to uncover the truth.

Flyaway is a blend of the real and the otherworldly — the book is underpinned by a subtle hint of unease and rising tension. At just 180 pages, Flyaway is a quick read.

“She made it to the trees. Later, they would find a thread of her coat caught on the bark of a dead silky oak, although they would not know whether she had left it coming or going.”

I feel like there’s two elements to this review — writing style, and the actual story itself.

Kathleen’s prose is lyrical and poetic, gorgeous. She evokes emotions and images with the quickest and brutal of sentences. Dialogue is brief and sparse, but welcome. Kathleen incorporates similes and metaphors that really sing off the page. Immediately, I felt completely enveloped by her writing and her prose. Kathleen has an incredible ability of weaving words together to create really evocative sentences.

“The triangle tangle of roads and tracks held the district of Inglewell: hills and scrub glittered in the power-white light, fading to chalk blue; sharp grasses fluttered pale in the paddocks, green and burgundy on the verge; grey huts subsided into themselves like memory.”

Okay, the actual story. Truthfully? I hate to say this because I really wanted to love this, but I was quite bored reading this. Not even exquisite prose can make me fall in love with cardboard cut-out characters. And sometimes, it really felt like these characters fell a bit flat. At times, the dialogue felt stilted and unnatural, particularly between Bettina and her mother. And none of the characters felt particularly fleshed out to me. It felt like Kathleen spent so much time perfecting each sentence, but she didn’t spend enough time on the story and characters as a whole.

Additionally, I just didn’t ‘feel’ the magic/folklore element that the blurb and cover promised. Moments of fantasy are peppered throughout, albeit randomly, and it did feel a little thin and disorienting. This felt like a stretched tale — could this have just been a short story? Browsing reviews of this novella make it clear that I’m definitely in the minority with these thoughts — there’s a lot of love out there for this book, so there’s obviously just something about this plot and this story that didn’t quite resonate with me like it did other readers.

“Then there were stories of those who had simply…gone. Walked into the trees or vanished from a tent in the night, been swallowed up in long-fingered leaves, waded into waterholes or fallen through cracks in the earth. Or those who had got into the car one night and driven off without saying goodbye.”

Recommended for fans of fantasy and the supernatural. Fans of literary fiction will welcome the writing style and poetic cohesion of Kathleen’s words.

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Flyaway
Kathleen Jennings
August 2020
Pan Macmillan Publishers Australia

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins

Ambition will fuel him. Competition will drive him. But power has its price.

It is the morning of the reaping that will kick off the tenth annual Hunger Games. In the Capitol, eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow is preparing for his one shot at glory as a mentor in the Games. The once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times, its fate hanging on the slender chance that Coriolanus will be able to out charm, outwit, and out manoeuvre his fellow students to mentor the winning tribute.

The odds are against him. He’s been given the humiliating assignment of mentoring the female tribute from District 12, the lowest of the low. Their fates are now completely intertwined — every choice Coriolanus makes could lead to favour or failure, triumph or ruin. Inside the arena, it will be a fight to the death. Outside the arena, Coriolanus starts to feel for his doomed tribute… and must weigh his need to follow the rules against his desire to survive no matter what it takes.

Fans of The Hunger Games will remember Coriolanus Snow as the ruthless and fascist President of Panem. In Suzanne Collins’ prequel, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, readers will come to understand his backstory — how did Snow go from teenager to bitter tyrant?

In this setting, the Capitol are up to their 10th Hunger Games and things are very different from how we see them over sixty years later. Nobody is watching the Games, especially in the poorer districts where they don’t even have televisions. The Capitol need to switch things up to increase excitement in the games, and Snow has a natural ability to ponder disastrous ways to engage new audiences.

There are three parts to the novel — Snow meeting Lucy Gray and gearing up for the Hunger Games, the Hunger Games themselves, and then afterwards, where Snow spends time in District 12 with his friend Sejanus and Snow’s humanity slowly starts to dissipate.

“Could there be a bigger slap in the face?” Coriolanus wonders. “District 12, the smallest district, the joke district, with its stunted, joint-swollen kids that always died in the first five minutes, and not only that . . . but the girl?”

Lucy Gray is a fascinating and complex character — she’s a talented singer with the charm and confidence to fascinate the Hunger Games crowds. Fans will find joy when they realise that the songs we learnt in The Hunger Games — The Hanging Tree, for example — were written and sung by Lucy Gray. We come to understand the history and the significance of these songs, which is a nice touch.

Because the book is written in third person, we experience events as Snow does and we never really come to understand what’s going on inside his mind. We witness as he betrays friends and kills people, but we never experience his thoughts or conflicts and it’s both a clever and chilling stylistic device.

“He’d been to the arena several times as a small boy, to see the circus, mostly, but also to cheer military displays under his father’s command. For the past nine years he’d watched at least part of the Games on television.”

This book explores the evolution of Snow but is also explores the evolution of the Hunger Games. In the beginning, we understand just how uninterested people are in them. The Capitol want to use the games to exert control over the districts, but they can’t quite work out how to do that. By the end, Snow has plenty of ideas on how to increase obsession with the Hunger Games, and it gives readers a chilling premonition because we know just how successful the Hunger Games end up being.

The novel isn’t without its flaws. The pacing was inconsistent. It takes a long time before the Games start, and they don’t actually go for that long. And then we follow a rather slow journey to the climax of the story. Whilst I loved the ending and truly felt surprised by the story of Lucy Gray and the conclusion to her tale (not a spoiler), I felt a little cheated that it took so long to get there.

Additionally, I never believed Snow’s hatred for mockingjays. It felt like it was put into the story purely to provide another connection to The Hunger Games.

“Some of the tributes dropped in their seats, chins almost on their chests, but the more defiant ones tilted their heads back and surveyed the hall. It was one of the most impressive chambers in the Capitol, and several mouths gaped open, awed by the grandeur of the marble columns, the arched windows, the vaulted ceiling.”

Recommended for fans of The Hunger Games. You’ll find yourself captivated by the setting and the story, and engaged long enough to see the story through to the end. 14+

Thank you to the publisher for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes
Suzanne Collins
May 2020
Scholastic Publishers Australia