Eargasm, or, Why I’m Shy to Review Audiobooks

As a hobby blogger, this was my MOST (and only) SERIOUS BUSINESS QUESTION. Do I review my Audible “reads”? Cross my heart, there’s a logic here. I’ve finished multiple audiobooks that I’d never get halfway through in print; physical books do not get a lot of leeway when it comes to abusing my attention span.

Problem is, I friggin’ love Audible. Not reviewing audiobooks disqualifies easily half my library. Bored at the gym? Plan to spend the next six hours knitting that scarf you promised your best friend? Go get your earbuds, it’s Audible time.

The crux of it is: even if nobody reads this blog but my scarfless best friend (hey girl hey), I’d like to be able to write a reliable review. I think being able to see the bias makes a big difference, though, and all I can do is try. I encourage particularly vocal feedback from anyone who has read these books themselves, and everyone else should take this review post with a grain of salt.

Reading this book was like doing a trust fall with your summer camp bestie, but then she turns at the last minute to check out the lifeguard. Rebecca Hamilton’s “The Forever Girl” is the first book in a long series that I am just never going to read. I was so into it until the protagonist, who was written with a strong and unique voice, fell into a corny banter with a man who has been watching her from afar, sometimes as a squirrel. Do not write me a compelling heroine that forgets how to be compelling in the presence of a dude. Do not drop me on my ass on the beach because Clayton Morris isn’t wearing his shirt. That’s all, and it’s not a lot to ask.

Zero sparkly wands out of five, and a pox on rakishly charming men and trust falls.

“The Sin Eater’s Daughter” by Melinda Salisbury had some pretty high hopes for itself. I don’t think it lived up to all of them, but there are a lot of aspects that I did enjoy. The moral and social implications of the protagonist’s “blessing,” for example, are examined in a way that doesn’t lecture the reader. But the plot and its twists were just too predictable for me. If I’d actually been reading this book, I probably wouldn’t have finished it. Ironically, that would have sucked because the ending was the FUCKING BEST. My inner feminist was happy and it catered to my shamelessly romantic heart… Worth it? Oh yes.

Three sparkly wands out of five.

“Dreamer’s Pool” by Juliet Marillier is my whole audiobook problem. I like this book more for having listened to it. Hell, I never would have read it otherwise. I do not read high fantasy books, I do not read mysteries, and I do not have the patience for three points of view to finally coalesce into a realization that I came to 200 pages ago. This was proof that a good cast can liven up a slow book. Though I do, in addition, appreciate the lack of George R R Martin syndrome.* I don’t really know why I enjoyed this book, since I technically shouldn’t have, but I’m interested enough to listen to the next one.

Three?? sparkly wands out of five.


* Primary symptoms include needless misogyny, rape, and violence; faux medieval realism; and excessive character death. Look! I wrote a bonus review of that whole series! Zero sparkly wands for creepy old men who write books so gory they circle back around to boring.

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Can’t Win for Losing: Seraphina and Shadow Scale

Screen Shot 2015-03-26 at 18.59.31I’m going to level with you.

You can tell because I’m sitting on a backwards-facing chair while I write this, like we’re pals on a 90s sitcom. See, the truth is, you don’t know me. This is only my third blog post, after all. How could you? (Unless you’re my husband* – in which case, Ash, you’ve heard and are bored of this rant. You can skip ahead to the footnote where I tell everyone how cool you are.)

My point is: You don’t know that I am tired as hell of YA authors birthing triplets. Most trilogies – within the recent trend – are unnecessarily drawn out, poorly paced, and simply not suited to the form. Given that fact, I was pretty surprised when I found out that the follow-up to Rachel Hartman’s “Seraphina” was being marketed as a companion novel rather than the second of three books – especially since Hartman wrote a series that could’ve used the extra word count.

=SPOILERS START HERE=

The titular character of “Seraphina” is a sixteen-year-old court musician trying very hard to keep her head down. It’d be easier if the court wasn’t in chaos: someone has murdered a crown prince of the realm, and it was probably a dragon. You can roll your eyes here if you want; I did. But Hartman has a knack for understanding that non-human beings have distinctly non-human priorities, and her dragons don’t disappoint. Neither, for that matter, does her world-building.

I usually make fun of books that make up too many words, yet “Seraphina” and its companion, “Shadow Scale” have the necessary heft to balance Hartman’s linguistic creativity.

“Seraphina” didn’t surprise me with its plot twists, but I didn’t mind. The discovery that Seraphina herself is a half-dragon, that there are others, etc., was well within what might be expected. Supporting characters were nicely developed and romance, while present, didn’t play more than a minor role. Nonetheless, I was excited to find “Shadow Scale” on my list of March releases, in part because of this good first (novel) impression.

The presence of gay and trans characters (it’s like they’re real, normal people!) was a major plus**, along with the diversity of race, ability, and age within the cast***. The plot moved in both expected and gut-punching directions. I was well invested in what Hartman had set up: so much so that my little sister was left baffled when she met me for lunch and found me tearing up over my Kindle. Basically, “Shadow Scale” lived up to my expectations – in all ways but one.

Rather than showing her readers how things ended – Seraphina’s romantic decisions, the fate of her fellow half-dragons, etc. – Hartman wraps up “Shadow Scale” with a final chapter that vaguely added up to “and they all lived happily ever after.” In particular, the fate of Orma, Seraphina’s uncle, is left dangling in an epilogue that was as brief as it was dissatisfying.

Worse, it felt like there was (gasp) a trilogy’s worth of material in these books, which means I have to eat my words. Two books was not enough, not here. But a clunky ending can’t totally mar what was an otherwise fun, charming read. “Seraphina” and “Shadow Scale” are well worth any weaknesses in execution Hartman experienced.

Four sparkly wands out of five.


* Full Disclosure: We’re not actually married. Ashley is my husband because I’m her wife; she buys the beer, I buy the Doritos, and we watch Supernatural while we paint our nails. It’s the perfect friendship.

** When lgbt characters show up as more than sideshow attractions (Look at the freaks! See how they live!) I automatically love a book about 1,000% more. I don’t penalize books for being non-inclusive, but when inclusivity is done right I want to sing from the rooftops.

*** If this was a book report, I’d talk about how “different =/= weird and horrible” is a theme in these books, and how happy it makes my heart. Suffice to say I want to go back in time and give these to my teenage self with a Lisa Frank Post-It: “SEE? YOU WILL BE FINE.” More of this, please.

Three Cheers for March Releases! (None of which are featured here.)

Because my latest reads just aren’t cutting it.

22351151First up, Gigi Pandian’s “The Accidental Alchemist,” first in a series I have no intention of continuing. There’s nothing really wrong with this book, except that other authors have done it better. It reminded me strongly of Deborah Harkness’ recently-completed “All Souls” trilogy, with a smattering of Paula Brackston’s “The Witch’s Daughter.” (The former had a punchier heroine and the latter was deeper and more compelling.) Unfortunately for Pandian, that meant reading this was lot like going on a rebound date after a really amazing relationship you’re not over. But since I can’t actually fault it for not being the book I wanted to read, this one gets three sparkly wands out of five.

13600701Next, McCormick Templeman’s “The Glass Casket.” Ohhh my goddd this book. This book is not the kind of YA that adult readers can also enjoy. It drew upon “Snow White and Rose Red” – no relation to the Disney story – which is one of my favourite old-timey fairy tales. But it was slow and predictable, and I have strong disapproving feelings about books that try to sound like they’re from another time when they’re clearly not. So despite the fact that it’s a fairy tale retelling, I just can’t care enough to summon more than two sparkly wands.

Unter-The-Never-Sky-Veronica-RossiAnd finally, the rarest of books: A DNF. I never leave a book unfinished, if only because it’s hard to irritate me enough to make me run away screaming. But Veronica Rossi’s “Under the Never Sky” is so brutally cliché that every plot point in the first hundred pages* aligns perfectly with a @DystopianYA tweet. Now, look. I enjoy the tropes within genre fiction – that’s why I read it. But when an author can’t be bothered to contribute to her own book, there’s nothing that compels me to stick around for the ride. Zero sparkly wands and a fairy loses its wings.

The good news is that March brought new releases with it – including two sequels I’ve been salivating over for a long time (and one I’m indifferent to but will inevitably get desperate and read, let’s be honest). This means that there’s a high likelihood I’ll stop bitching and perk up, [Insert Spring metaphor here].


*I usually know by page 65, but 100 is a nice, arbitrary number that makes it look like I’m fair, so I make myself get to that point if I want to complain about a book here. Which, of course I do.