Time-travel books are by far my favorite type of book. Even more than fae books.
I freeze and gape in horror at what I just typed. “Le gasp! How dare I?”
Oh, I dare.
Before No Good Deed by Kara Connolly appeared on the “new books” shelf in the library, I’d exhausted the Young Adult department’s time-travel selection. Basically, I saw it, snatched it up, and almost forgot to check it out before I staggered out of the library, already nose-deep in it.
Ellie Hudson is on the road to a gold medal for the U. S. Olympic archery team, but, when she makes a wrong turn in the caverns under Nottingham Castle, she ends up in medieval England. Ellie doesn’t care how she got to the Middle Ages, she just wants to get home. But, as she spends time in the past, she sees that people are suffering and she has the skills to make it better.
Filled with humorous outlaws, dashing knights, and cunning royals, Kara Connolly delivers a fantastic romp. Well-paced and fairly historically accurate (for a time-travel and a spin on Robin Hood), I read it in one sitting. Heck, I cried when it ended.
No Good Deed hit the bull’s eye, so I award it five out of five gold stars.
Unlike most books that I pick up, I got it after seeing the cover. Usually, I ignore the cover and decide whether or not to get the book after reading the summary, but I had a feeling about Amy Engel’s The Roanoke Girls. It probably helped that, at the time I checked out the Roanoke Girls, I had just finished Rooms, and this book echoed a similar creepiness. Whatever the case may be, I didn’t regret my impulsiveness.
Following her mother’s suicide, fifteen-year-old Lane Roanoke moves in with her grandparents and cousin on their massive estate in Kansas. knowing little of her mother’s family, Lane embraces her new life… until she discovers the family’s darkest secret. Eleven years later, Lane gets a call in her current home in Los Angeles from her grandfather: her cousin, Allegra, is missing. Feeling guilty for leaving her behind, Lane returns and helps look for Allegra.
Weaving effortlessly between Lane’s first summer and her return to Roanoke, Amy Engel spins a tale of destructive relationships, gentle manipulation, and how twisted love can be. Set in a town frozen in time, secrets are guarded viciously and family life is a game of whether or not your wits are intact. Dark, terrible, and fierce, The Roanoke Girls will haunt you long after you’ve put it down. I give this gorgeous wisp of a nightmare four out of five stars.
In accordance to my usual ritual when reading books I know I’ll like, it took me awhile to actually sit down and read. Since 2015, when the local library first got the book, to be exact. After checking it out at least five times and reading the first twenty pages over and over again, I decided enough was enough. Summoning my inner Sandra (a lead character in the book), I kicked up my feet and began devouring Lauren Oliver’s Rooms.
“Everything comes up in the end.” That’s what Sandra, one of the two ghosts haunting Coral River, said. Indeed, when the owner of the house, Richard Walker, died and left his alienated family to pack up his belongings, it seemed that secrets would be uncovered. Sandra and Alice (the other ghost) pass the time bickering, watching the Walkers, and reminiscing their pasts. While his sister, mother, and niece were busy packing and preparing for his father’s funeral, Trenton began to communicate with an new ghost, and the spirit and human worlds collide.
Filled with smart dialogue, vivid descriptions, and frighteningly relatable characters, Rooms buzzes to life, and is as painful and reassuring as it is mysterious and haunting. From its eerie beginning and climatic middle and bittersweet ending, Ms. Oliver’s ghost story and family drama will stick with you long after you’ve turned the last page. It’s like a fine, aged wine. It starts out tasty and gets better with every drop.
I easily rate this a five out of five stars.
For the past several weeks, I’ve been milking Lauren Oliver’s Rooms. In the midst of a chapter I found myself struck by the elusive muse and, following her prompting, scribbled down this poem. I hope you enjoy it. (On another note, I’ve changed my site’s url, so now it’s aweebiteccentric. I’ve done this because I feel that it is more mature and matches the site’s identity. Plus, I never really liked the original url anyways.)
The absence of the living.
The rooms left behind.
The words we spit.
The fire in the basement.
The empty shell of a house.
The spirits are freed.
Copyright © 2017 by Nita Pan
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