octavia_cade's reviews
2467 reviews

This little mini-collection of two short stories - or, as I suspect, a short story and a novelette - is a quick, easy read. I'm not too inspired by "Aviva and the Aliens" to be honest, in which a palace cook is briefly abducted in order to prepare a meal for some rather off-putting aliens. I did enjoy "Rivka in Port Saltspray" though, mostly for the emphasis on communication. Rivka rescues a woman in distress, and they share stories but not a language, so the two of them trying to understand each other with limited vocabulary was really cleverly done. It reminded me of that Star Trek: TNG episode... oh, what was it. "Darmok," that's it - Shaka when the walls fell. (I remembered the phrase before the title!) 

This was a fast-paced, decent enough story, if a little predictable in places (if you can't see Gilla's actions and motivation coming from a long way off, you're not paying much attention). That being said, it's not rising above two stars from me.

Everyone has tropes that they just don't care for. Personally, I don't see what could possibly be appealing about aliens who look like devils, complete with horns and forked tails, but it makes me roll my eyes every single time. Especially as there's absolutely no reason for it in this particular book. Had the indigenous inhabitants of Devil World looked like literally anything else, it wouldn't change a single thing about the story. Not one thing! What, I ask you, is the point of it then?

Someone needed to kill a darling here and didn't. This isn't even the first time I've seen this stupid trope in a Trek novel. Here's hoping never again. 

This is my first time reading this and I went into it with absolutely no idea as to what it was about, and I was still surprised. It seems very racy for the 1950s! Hell, I'm sure some people would complain about it now. It's fascinating at how so much of it talks around subjects like homosexuality and just expects the audience to follow along - it's a very elliptical play in that sense. The introduction was very helpful in that respect; it takes up about a third of this particular edition, and goes into themes and stagings and critical responses.

I have to admit that I'm curious to see it staged. It strikes me as one of those plays that lives or dies by the charisma of the characters. This is true of most plays, I expect, but I'm thinking primarily here of Brick, who would need someone of towering charisma to not fade beside the rest of the cast. I have limited sympathy for him on the page - not that he isn't interesting and deserving of compassion, under the circumstances, but if I had to live with him I'd be at the end of my rope. In fact, I couldn't help but think that if I were Maggie and I did get pregnant and Big Daddy did die, one of my first acts after inheriting would be to suffocate my dead weight husband in his bed one night. Let's face it, he'd probably enjoy it. 

This issue raises more questions than it solves! Which is great, as it makes me want to keep reading. The well creature is more tricksy than ever and Sam is, if not dead, then close enough. I hope he stays that way. Physical violence is always less interesting to me than head games, and the well creature (I suppose I should call it? him? Zack, but it feels like Zack is only for the moment) seems as if it will excel at those, which is promising. 

Finally, I realise that Nina has not been raised on the horror genre, but if Sam isn't dead she's got two kids who failed to kill him and she needs to teach them follow-through. Almost, in this case, is not good enough, and that's a horrifying note in itself to end on. 

This is more like it! Sam's still around, being fairly boring, but that creepy thing that lives in the well is out and manipulating everything around her. She's a fantastic horror villain, and the frame of her clambering out of the well is the best in the series so far.

I think when it comes to character I'm most interested in motivation: why characters do things. What they're after. I don't know what the well creature wants, but it's clear that she wants something and is out to get it. Sam's far more murky for me. Perhaps it's that he's being manipulated himself, but mostly I think it's because he's flat-out crazy, and that muddies motivation and makes it less compelling for me. He feels like a puppet, and so I don't care. 

I just can't get that interested in Sam Lesser and his murder spree, I'm afraid. On the bright side, the relationships between the family members are one of the most interesting things about this series for me, and there's a lot of that in here. Ty's determination to stick around for his little brother is affecting, but every time I see the name "Bode" part of me thinks "Is that a real name? Do people actually call their kids that?" I dunno, maybe it's an American thing, but all I can think of is boding ill. I suppose there's boding well, too, but still. Maybe it's short for something? 

This isn't exactly a placeholder issue, what with the escape and all, and the emphasis on Kinsey is due. The first three issues focus on the three kids, and I can see why - Hill is getting the main characters set up for the readers. Emotionally, it feels a little like a placeholder, though. That doesn't really sound fair, as Kinsey has as much of a right to her trauma as the other two, but there's a small sense of repetition... mostly with the first issue. Kinsey and Ty are much older than Bode, and their responses, by virtue of their age, are more similar than that of their younger brother.

There's also less focus on the house here, and I really enjoy creepy, weird house stories (is the place actually haunted?) so hopefully there's more of that coming. 

It's fast-paced and easy to zip through, which is about the best that can be said. It's not that the book's bad, but there's not a lot of meat here of any kind. Yeah, it's a kids' book, but the antagonist is particularly thin, and it's too easily wrapped up at the end. Also, I know that kids' books often find ways to get the parents out of the way pretty quick, but you can't tell me that Benjamin Sisko of all people would watch a ship with his kidnapped child zoom away from DS9 and go, essentially, "Eh, let's sort this out diplomatically." I don't think so - he'd be following that warp trail in less time than it takes me to write this review.

I remember reading another one of these junior DS9 novels, and he was an extraordinarily indifferent parent there as well. Now, Star Trek has its share of useless parents but trying to frame Sisko - of all people! - that way beggars belief. 

I've finally finished this tie-in collection of stories from the Rivers of London series, which is good as it's due back at the library today. It's likeable enough but a mixed bag generally; I think I prefer the novels, and I say that as a dedicated short story reader.

The strength of the Rivers series, for me, has always been the voice: Peter Grant is warm and funny and suspicious, and his characterisation is genuinely appealing. In the novels, that appeal is in service of (generally) well-developed plot. That's not so much the case here. Aaronovitch is not what I'd call a natural short story writer... his strength clearly lies in longer pieces. There's a tendency to an abrupt, awkward end, which is admittedly evident in only some of the stories here, and in others the plot, or points of the plot, are not that well-developed. Don't get me wrong: I did enjoy a lot of the work here, and it's a solid three stars out of five, but I probably won't pick it up again.