*SPOILERS AHEAD*
I got to listen to Conrad this time around?? Woohoo! And yes, I've reached the end of this series firmly on Team Conrad. The events of this book solidified it for me, but honestly not until the very end. I think this series is deeply rooted in absolutes that were established in the first book: Belly has always loved Conrad and always will, Beck was always sure Belly would marry one of her sons, all of these characters will be inextricably entwined because of their shared love for the late Susannah and the beach house, etc. A sense of nostalgia floats above the whole story, too, made stronger with every flashback scene. These absolutes aren't expected to change as the series continues, which is part of why Belly and Jeremiah being together seemed too good to be true from the get go. I really like how the book starts, how we get a glimpse of Belly's life at college navigating new female friendships and a boyfriend. But their relationship shatters when Belly finds out Jeremiah cheated on her. This immediately made their decision to get married feel doomed from the start. It was totally clear to me that they were rushing into marriage because they needed to prove that they could still trust each other and never hurt one another the way Jeremiah hurt Belly again. But that's not a reason to get married at all, and Laurel, Steven, Conrad, and co.'s reactions to the news were all completely valid to me. The riff between Belly and Laurel really made me quite sad; I couldn't imagine trying to go through with an already shaky wedding without the approval or presence of my mom. But I'm glad the riff doesn't last the whole book, and that when Belly really needs her, Laurel shows up. I also think, considering the timeline of how long Susannah has been dead, the depictions of grief are still really accurate. My heart twisted when I realized the letter meant for Conrad was given to Jeremiah. We don't get to see what it says, but I can imagine what a letter from a late mother to her son the night before his wedding could entail. I'm glad we get to see Belly's letter from Beck, though. The lack of Conrad's name until the very last second here was also a subtly effective craft move, since it's pretty clear by the end of the book that Belly ends up with Conrad. There's still room for a little bit of doubt. Because that's the thing about Conrad that bothered me until the end: he's supposedly Belly's endgame, yet keeps her on her toes to the point where she never really knows if she can trust him with her whole heart. I think it comes down to Conrad caring so much for Belly that he pulled away during times when he wasn't emotionally stable or knew he couldn't provide for her in the ways he wanted to. That's precisely where Jeremiah stepped in: he communicated how he felt, Conrad recognized the true love he had for Belly, and he took a step back. We see in his perspective chapters how the regret really eats at him, how he never stopped loving Belly but hardly ever acted on what he wanted to act on. It just makes for a more complicated plot and romance, I guess. In general, this book's plot depending on the "will they, won't they" of the marriage happening was unexpected, and a little disappointing. Disappointing might not be quite the right word, but it expresses the divide between my expectations and reality well enough. I like how Belly and Conrad waited a few years before deciding to tie the knot, which seems to be an indicator of healthier relationship choices when compared to Belly and Jeremiah's rushing. The fact that Belly studies abroad and doesn't answer Conrad's letters as soon as they start arriving made me happy, too. In my opinion, Belly's a boy-crazy kind of female main character. Her decision to live with her girl friends from college, experience living in another country, and put physical space between her and the Fisher boys made me happy to see. I feel for Jeremiah, though; the cheating is inexcusable in my eyes, but how hard it must've been for him to tell Belly he couldn't marry her when he still loved her is unimaginable. One of the things I cared most about was knowing Conrad and Jeremiah make up after their terrible fight. Seeing Jeremiah at the wedding is closure enough. I adore the ending scene and can picture it so clearly: a rainy day, Conrad in a suit and Belly in her white dress, both running carefree toward the ocean with so much history at their backs. It's one of many scenes I'm looking forward to seeing in season 3 of the show. :) The parallelism of the book starting and ending with this scene is so good too! It hit me later on that you can half expect the boy in the scene to be Jeremiah on a first read, but have it be confirmed as Conrad on a second read.



Some of my favorite quotes from We'll Always Have Summer:

"But just because you bury something, that doesn’t mean it stops existing."

"There hadn’t been one specific moment. It was like gradually waking up. You go from being asleep to the space between dreaming and awake and then into consciousness. It’s a slow process, but when you’re awake, there’s no mistaking it. There was no mistaking that it had been love."

"A fight is like a fire. You think you have it under control, you think you can stop it whenever you want, but before you know it, it’s living, breathing thing and there’s no controlling it and you were a fool to think you could."

"'Sometimes it hurts to look at you,' I said. I loved that I could say that and he knew exactly what I meant."

*SPOILERS AHEAD*
Here I was convinced that Lola Tung's narration couldn't get any better, when in waltzes Gavin Casalegno! Jeremiah himself! His perspective chapters were magnificent. Knowing how the plot of the TV show's second season unfurls didn't take away from this reading experience. If anything, I was glad there was more of a focus on Belly, Jeremiah, and Conrad, that the extra fluff characters added to the show for the sake of drama and B plots didn't make any appearances. I'm talking about the Fisher boys' aunt and cousin specifically, but I felt the gaping Cam Cameron-sized hole. They don't really explain where he goes, now that I think about it. I guess it's just kind of assumed that Belly never called him after leaving the summer house. There was a lot less of Taylor and Steven, too. Hardly any Steven at all, really, which I was more disappointed about than I expected. I could've actually done with a little less Taylor, though she and Belly seem like the perfect friendship pairing at times: they both have incredibly selfish moments.
Susannah's death comes on swiftly and strongly in this book. It happens "off screen," so to speak, in between the events of that first and second book, but the narration style continues to jump back and forth between flashbacks and present day. I think this was especially important for the storytelling of this book because it let readers peek into Susannah's funeral, last moments, and Belly and Conrad's winter night before everything crashed and burned. I found myself once again annoyed with Belly on multiple occasions, but couldn't be surprised considering her track record. I do, however, appreciate how this book represents grief, chiefly in its range of characters. Laurel grieves Beck in her own internal world, while Belly just has to observe. Beck's boys keep their emotions in, especially Conrad who, poor guy, really needs to go to therapy. Their father has to grapple with times he fell short in the husband department. And Belly seems to grieve the loss of a second mother figure as well as the golden years of a childhood she can't ever get back, in more ways than one. It's all multifaceted and well-written. The quest to save the summer house and all it represents concerning Susannah drove the momentum of the story forward, too. Regarding the romance and the ever present "will they, won't they" of Conrad and Belly's dynamic, I still think I'm leaning towards Team Jeremiah. At some point, Belly needs to lean into the brother that's choosing to be there for her, choosing to express that he loves her and wants to be with her, rather than the brother she's still holding out hope for. There is the argument that Conrad loves Belly, needs Belly, in ways he doesn't know how to express cause, again, therapy is lacking. But I still think that Belly empowering herself to let Conrad go and be with Jeremiah at the very end of this book felt like a satisfying ending. I know it's not the ending; there's still one more full book. And this time, I don't have the third season of the TV show to guide my thinking or spoil any major plot points!



Some of my favorite quotes from It's Not Summer Without You:

"That's when I finally got it. I finally understood. It wasn't the thought that counted. It was the actual execution that mattered, the showing up for somebody. The intent behind it wasn't enough. Not for me. Not anymore. It wasn't enough to know that deep down, he loved me. You had to actually say it to somebody, show them you cared. And he just didn't. Not enough."

"We stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But it was the kind of nothing that meant everything."

"Gone had come to mean something different, in a way that is hadn’t used to. Something permanent."

Why more people aren't talking about Lola Tung narrating this audiobook is beyond me. You mean the actual Belly is in my ear, telling me her story? I love it. I have fond memories of watching the first season of the show adaptation by myself in COVID quarantine. I cried just as hard on my rewatch with my mom about a month later. And while the second season didn't feel like it hit quite as hard as the first one, I still enjoyed gathering friends in my apartment to watch it together. I don't usually read books I've already seen the movie or show adaptations of, but this felt like an exception I was willing to make. And I can still read/listen to the third book before the third season comes out. There's something about reading a book steeped like iced tea in the concept of summer during the height of a San Diego summer. Granted, Cousins Beach and Belly's emotional rollercoaster of a love life are located on the East Coast. But as I said with Happy Place, until I'm able to experience what summer's like on the opposite coast, I'll settle for reading about it. I have my fair share of critiques for this book (and most of them have to do with Belly's decisions and attitudes), but I really think time jumps and well-placed flashbacks strengthen the overall story. For one thing, this novel is about more than love triangles and a fifteen-year-old girl beginning to hit puberty in a good way. It deals with sibling relationships, divorce, and the effects of cancer. Showing bits and pieces of summers in Cousins that were completely carefree, where Belly has tunnel vision for Conrad and enjoys the company of those around her in a more childlike way, paves the way for greater emotional reactions when the current summer is irrevocably different. It captures that bittersweet realization that some of the "lasts" of childhood slip by without enough time to turn one's head and watch them go. I also like how Conrad's uncharacteristic behavior gets an explanation at the end, that he doesn't remain an asshole, as at least every character ends up calling him at least once, through to the end. With that being said, though, I kind of got incredibly sick of Belly swinging like a pendulum between Jeremiah and Conrad. I know she's 15 and hormones rage, but she really wasn't fair with either of them, playing with their emotions and being indecisive. And bringing Cam Cameron into the equation stirs the pot, sure, but I feel so bad for him and what I suspect he knew from the beginning: Belly's heart wasn't ever really his to have. There's a lot of emotional manipulation going on on all levels (I won't say Laurel and Susannah are exempt), so at times I just wanted to take whoever was acting out by the shoulders and give them a little shake. Belly's best friend Taylor, especially. Talk about emotional manipulation. I don't have much else to say other than, somehow, I might be sidestepping from Team Conrad to Team Jeremiah. I get snagged on Belly's ideology that no matter what, Conrad is it. Romantic as the ideology is, it just limits her frame of mind and confidence so much. And when Conrad acts like he could care less about anything Belly's doing, it's just annoying to see her pining. Who's to say where I'll end up by the end of the series, though. I think if I were Belly, I'd just take a giant step back and do everything I could to make sure I didn't lose them both as close friends. But, alas, I am not Belly.

​
Some of my favorite quotes from The Summer I Turned Pretty:

"In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want."

"Victory is a thousand times sweeter when you're the underdog."

"I wondered if this was the way old crushes died, with a whimper, slowly, and then, just like that—gone." 

I imagine this book has a lot of similarities to the The Summer I Turned Pretty series, because it was certainly reminiscent of the TV adaptation I've seen several times. Which is so fun! And what I look for in a romance book with a fun, colorful cover like this one! It encapsulates what I imagine an East coast summer surrounded by best friends would feel like (I've only experienced West Coast summers in my 23 years of life thus far). And really, I loved all the romance packed into this story, but most of my post-read thoughts are drifting to this book's strong female friendships. As I've noted with Book Lovers, Emily Henry knows how to write some great dialogue; I feel like her characters actually talk the way people talk in real life, even if those things are cringey at times. But through the dialogue and flashbacks, the relationships between Harriet, Cleo, and Sabrina jump up in three dimensional, relatable quality. From the very first chapter, nostalgia for specific college memories of mine had me hooked. Because the descriptions we get of these three girls going from randomly-placed college roommates to inseparable, sister-level kinds of friends is something I've been blessed to experience in my own life. The motif of a happy place, whether existing in Harriet's state of mind or the physical Maine beach house and quaint town, also manifests in how Cleo and Sabrina are a part of her girlhood, during and post-college. I could get so sappy with my own recollections of meeting my versions of Cleo and Sabrina, of dinners and beach trips and movie nights and late night drives that solidified friendships I can't believe I ever lived without. But I'll cut it short here by saying this: my favorite part of this book is its spotlight on the importance of holding onto best friendships through life's changing seasons. I should mention Wyn now, cause I love him and his self-deprecating humor, furniture making, and cute gentlemanly manners. He's a golden retriever/boyfriend/leading rom-com man if I've ever seen one. I like how he and Harriet balance each other out in so many subtle ways, and how they like to point those things out even when they're fighting and technically broken up. The fake dating trope popped off again and again and again. I loved the tension. I think one of Henry's strongest narrative decisions was  jumping back and forth between the series of events happening at the beach house post-breakup, and revealing the story of how they met, fell in love, and broke up. Clues are dropped left and right about what happened, because I really was leaning in thinking what happened, these two kids are clearly meant for each other. But when the whole picture comes into focus, and they finally talk about what should've been talked about months ago (classic miscommunication trope), the pay off was satisfying. I will say this, though -- I started to get annoyed with the pacing just a smidge. I have a minimal understanding of the romance genre's general plot blueprint, but I know it relies on dramatic irony. Aka, readers screaming like the characters can hear them, Just talk about it! You clearly love each other! But the amount of times Harriet and Wyn acknowledge that there isn't anyone else for them but each other almost made the whole thing feel like a joke. Because, if I were them, I would throw the rest of my cares and anxieties to the wind and say, I love you. We'll figure out everything else as we go along. So when Wyn says they should choose to be together rather than in love from a distance, I actually threw my fist in the air and said, "Finally!" Okay. Rant over. I did, however, like this book's spin on the "third-act breakup," instead having the two love interests broken up before the story's really begun. I cannot tell a lie -- Book Lovers still sits on its pedestal as my favorite romance novel, but this one's sitting primly on the pedestal right below. :)

​

Some of my favorite quotes from Happy Place:

"My best friends taught me a new kind of quiet, the peaceful stillness of knowing one another so well you don’t need to fill the space. And a new kind of loud: noise as a celebration, as the overflow of joy at being alive, here, now."

"Like even when something beautiful breaks, the making of it still matters."

"I want my life to be like-like making pottery. I want to enjoy it while it's happening, not just for where it might get me eventually."

"He laughs against my cheek. I wish I could swallow the sound, that it would put down roots in my stomach and grow through me like a seed."

"'What if she wants to be alone?'
She has a point. It’s possible.
But people don’t run or hide only when they want to be alone.
'What if,' I say, 'she needs to know she isn’t?'"

The 2019 version of me who first picked up this book and said "Not for me" is not the version of me writing this book review. That 2019 version evolved into a 2022 version who decided to give the TikTok-trending Song of Achilles a try. She bought a copy in a busy Florence bookshop and finished it quietly sobbing next to a total stranger on her flight home. But the 2024 version of me writing this review found a $5 copy of Circe at a North Park, San Diego book fair and thought, "It would be good to read for my thesis research. Why not give it another try." Madeline Miller's prose and storytelling style is one of my favorites among the great and the mediocre, but her ability to make seemingly unrelatable characters into three-dimensional, raw, humane characters isn't limited to Song of Achilles. While I enjoyed some of the subtle references to her other novel and its famous Greek characters, Circe is entirely its own. And even though many different renowned Greek myths see Circe, the exiled goddess and sorceress, lingering on the edges of their narrative, this book is clearly Circes' to illuminate. It begins at Circe's beginning, the kind of beginning that sort of feels like a middle, because gods and the descendants of Titans operate on their own calendars. The  passing of time and its effects are so well-captured in this book, especially because Circe is a narrator as aware of her own divinity as she can be while still only knowing what it's like to be immortal. It felt like a kind of mind trick to realize that hundreds and thousands of years pass between the events in this book, because Circe recounts her tales with the perspective of a goddess. The only instances where she comments on time are when she's made painfully aware of the many things she loves having expirations dates: the herbs and natural ingredients used in her draughts, the rise and fall of cities, the men eaten by the monster she turned Scylla into, and her own son, Telegonus. And then there's the matter of her three main lovers: the wise and creative Daedalus, the rampaging and complex Odysseus, and finally, Telemachus the Just. Her story doesn't revolve around the men who keep her company before their time is up. But her brief time with them lasts. I think this theme concerning time, specifically time from the point of view of a goddess never wanting for more of it, just makes the ups and downs of living a finite amount of minutes and hours and days all the more stark. I've gotten existential enough; I'll comment on something more lighthearted. I loved all the descriptions of Circe's island! It's the definition of an "I want to go to there" kind of place for an introvert who dreams of having a magical house that stocks and cleans itself, and beautiful private beaches, forests, and cliffs to go with it. Seeing the treatment Circe endured in the household of her father makes the solitude she receives in her exile ironic. Even Circe acknowledges that getting to finally rid herself of the family that never treated her like true family is a reprieve, not a punishment. Her island isn't a utopia, hence her iconic "I'll turn these men into pigs and be done with them" era. But the island brought her freedom. It, I think, allowed her to blossom into a version of herself she never would've been able to find in the environment of her childhood. She certainly never would've met the people she did, or become a mother and learn what it's like to care for a son she'll far outlive. Circe is made relatable in her trial and error, her mistakes and guilt, her choice to endure because it's not actually a choice at all. In this way, the human race is reflected in her: hurting, but enduring. And Circe is repeatedly good in her helping mortals and gods alike, time and time again, even when she's slighted in return and has every reason to become as callous as some of the gods she can't stand. This doesn't strike me as overtly feminist literature, and perhaps it's meant to be subtle, the opposite of in your face, but Circe is a feminist icon if I've ever seen one. She's also the one who warns Odysseus about the Sirens he'll have to sail past, marking him as the one man to hear the Sirens' call and survive (insert relevancy to thesis research here :). Oh, and the ending? It reminded me bittersweetly of La La Land's genius end, flinging itself so far ahead like a net that hasn't caught any fish yet. It implies Circe's plan to eat the flowers she's used to transform others, and in turn transform herself into a mortal, so she might live the rest of her days with a husband and children. So she might walk through the Underworld one day to be with them. To have an end. And readers can only hope she gets to live a version of that flashing epilogue once she drinks from her bowl. Now that's the kind of ambiguous ending I'm talking about.


Some of my favorite quotes from Circe:

"That is one thing gods and mortals share. When we are young, we think ourselves the first to have each feeling in the world."

"All this while, I have been a weaver without wool, a ship without the sea. Yet now look where I sail."

"I had no right to claim him, I knew it. But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me."

"My name in his mouth. It sparked a feeling in me, sharp and eager. He was like ocean tides indeed, I thought. You could look up, and the shore would be gone."

"I had once told Daedalus that I would never marry, because my hands were dirty, and I liked my work too much. But this was a man with his own dirty hands."

"I loved his certainty, his world that was an easy place of right action divided sharply from wrong, of mistake and consequence, of monsters defeated. It was no world I knew, but I would live in it as long as he would let me."

"'It is strange to think of a goddess needing friends.'
'All creatures that are not mad need them.'"

"He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive."

I think it might be impossible to not give this book's title a second glance. It really is eye-catching, and it certainly caught mine. I listened to the audiobook version, which I highly recommend, considering it's read by the author herself, Jennette McCurdy. There are plenty of clever, "haha, that was witty" moments in the writing itself; I genuinely think McCurdy has committed to a writing style and voice that works well for her personality and the story she has to tell. Be warned, it's a sad story. A story that had me speechless and open-mouthed at times, shaking my head in disbelief at others, and contemplative throughout. As one could probably guess, McCurdy focuses on her tumultuous relationship with her mother, and the multitude of ways said relationship effected her. The narrative is broken up into two parts, "Before" and "After," and the opening scene vividly sets the tone for the kind of story readers are in for. I didn't grow up watching iCarly, or really any Nickelodeon at all, so learning about McCurdy's early acting career and experiences with "the creator" as well as the pressures any prepubescent teen girl must face didn't come with any sort of bias from my own childhood days spent watching her on TV. I think McCurdy spends careful time describing the living environment of her house, the dispositions of her other family members, and the constant control her mother had over every aspect of her life well into her adulthood. The book's tone sets readers up perfectly to be outsiders looking in, aware of the clear abuse McCurdy suffered from a mother she looked up to and wanted to please. It's extremely psychological, to say the least, and intriguing to read through the lens of the now far-removed and clearer-eyed McCurdy. The narrative deals heavily with issues of anorexia and bulimia McCurdy learned from her mother. I haven't dealt with eating disorders, but I resonated with these parts of McCurdy's life on a level that every young woman subjected to societal standards and oversexualization can (sadly) relate to. She captures what it feels like to be aware of your own body for the first time, to see and be a little afraid of how it's growing and changing before your very eyes. She evokes a certain kind of melancholy for young female friendships, that yearning to just fit in when you have no idea who you even want to be yet. McCurdy's honesty about her love life and experiences with sexual intimacy were also empowering to listen to. I appreciated a lack of "fade to black" scenes and her raw delivery in the audiobook. It's books like these, plainly displaying the author's insecurities, mistakes, and fears, that readers can actually connect with as well as respect. They make you stop and think, Wow, they really didn't hold back. That takes guts. McCurdy writes about her mother in such a delicate way, and I get it. Despite the abuse, gaslighting, trauma of hospital visits and cancer and pressure, that woman was her mother. The way McCurdy looks back and comments on everything that happened because of and since her influence is honest, in a word. I once again recommend listening to the audiobook to literally hear from McCurdy herself. I don't think you'll be disappointed.



Some of my favorite quotes from I'm Glad My Mom Died:

"I don’t like knowing people in the context of things. "Oh, that’s the person I work out with. That’s the person I’m in a book club with. That’s the person I did that show with." Because once the context ends, so does the friendship."

"Loving someone is vulnerable. It's sensitive. It's tender. And I get lost in them. If I love someone, I start to disappear. It's so much easier to just do googly eyes and fond memories and inside jokes for a few months, run the second things start to get real, then repeat the cycle with someone new."

"Through writing, I feel power for maybe the first time in my life. I don’t have to say somebody else’s words. I can write my own. I can be myself for once. I like the privacy of it. Nobody’s watching. Nobody’s judging. Nobody’s weighing in. No casting directors or agents or managers or directors or Mom. Just me and the page. Writing is the opposite of performing to me. Performing feels inherently fake. Writing feels inherently real."

Okay, so I'm feeling a bit silly about how long it took me to get on the Brandon Sanderson train, but at least I'm on board now! Because if the rest of his books are anything like this delightful novel, then I can be considered a fan for sure. The more fantasy novels I read, the more I realize how nuanced the genre is. High fantasy with a heavier focus on complex worldbuilding and action isn't the cup of tea I'm going to choose when a story that prefers to flesh out genuine characters in an easier-to-grasp world is sitting right in front of me. I think this novel seems to have found a perfect little pocket between these two descriptions. The idea of a planet where oceans are made not of water, but dangerous spore materials poured out from different moons seems ungraspable at first, but Sanderson's effortless writing style triumphs over descriptions of such a world that other authors might stumble around and never quite get right. Really, though, his writing style presents as not only effortless, but engaging to a level of actual laughing out loud on every page. This man's ability to come up with and make a piece of figurative language perfectly describe whatever it is he's set out to describe is suspiciously good.  His sense of how to make language work like a well-practiced song is clear from the very first page. I loved Tress from her first description, and only continued to love her as she developed into the kind of main female character I live to read. The amount of times she's underestimated by herself as well as others was refreshing to read after the amount of badass female heroines I've encountered in wildly popular BookTok titles. Nothing's wrong with those types of heroines. There's just a lot of them out there, floating around to fit the needs of current tropes and trends. Tress, with her people-pleasing, timid, inadvertently genius intelligence and quiet charm, was just a breath of new air. And knowing that she's meant to be a Princess Buttercup who believed her Wesley was still alive and went to look for him herself makes her even better. To keep this a spoiler free review, I will also just say that I love Huck the rat, and how much he ends up being a larger part of the story from a bird's eye view than I was expecting. The  novel's range of side characters was fantastic, too. Seeing Deaf representation and how Sanderson utilized the freedom of writing inside a fantasy world to make Fort's super cool writing board made me very happy (and also taking some notes for my own book's Deaf character). I admired the individual aspirations and goals each of these side characters had, since their stories are meant to exist on the sidelines of Tress' main journey. But any lovable character, whether main or side, needs hopes and dreams, and Ann, Salay, Fort, Dr. Ulaam, and even charmingly-confusing narrator Hoid, aren't lacking such things. There's a quality of distinguished storytelling in this novel that holds space for whimsicality and serious reflection on very human things, like loss, self-confidence, irony, and love. The quotes I've included below really speak for themselves, I think. Considering this novel as my fourth 5-star read of the year, I highly recommend it!


Some of my favorite quotes from Tress of The Emerald Sea:

"That said, you must understand that this is a tale about people who are both what they seem and not what they seem. Simultaneously. A story of contradictions. In other words, it is a story about human beings."

"Yet I've found that the people who are the happiest are the ones who learn best how to feel. It takes practice, you know. Effort."

"If you wish to become a storyteller, here is a hint: sell your labor, but not your mind."

"Deadly beauty is the starkest variety. And you will never find a murderess more intoxicating, more entrancing, than the sea."

"Unfortunately, sympathy is not a valve, to be turned off when it starts to flood the yard. Indeed, the path to a life without empathy is a long and painful one, full of bartered humanity sold at a steep discount."

"People consistently misjudge common things in their lives. (Other people come to mind.)"

"Memory may not be the heart of what makes us human, but it's at least a vital organ."

"Enjoy memories, yes, but don't be a slave to who you wish you once had been.
Those memories aren't alive. You are."

"Heroism is often the seemingly spontaneous result of a lifetime of preparation."

"Our words, like our hearts, are weapons still hot from the forging, beating themselves into new shapes each time we swing them."

*SPOILERS AHEAD*
Any story involving the sea, folklore/fairy tale retellings, and Studio Ghibli inspirations swiftly makes it onto my to be read list. I quite promptly ate up The Girl Who Fell Beneath The Sea. Having primarily read it on the London Underground and two trains to and from Scotland, I can say it’s a great travel read. More than anything else, this book sucked me into its otherworldly setting, which literally takes place in the realm of the Sea God, a being said to have been slumbering in a cursed sleep for a hundred years. His city, lively with the presence of spirits caught in between the mortal world and other worlds, makes for the kind of fantasy landscape I always crave in a book. I think this novel’s two greatest strengths are the execution of such a fantastical setting and the dialogue. I could sense the influence and wonder of Spirited Away in every chapter. All of the characters, from Mina, the fallen girl herself, to Namgi and Kirin, the loyal friends of Shin, the head of Lotus House and (here’s the reason for that spoiler warning!) the actual Sea God, are developed through their interactions and unique ways of speaking. I also loved the decision to have Dai, Mask, and Miki, three helpful spirits Mina would certainly have been lost without, revealed towards the very end of the story to be her ancestors living within the Sea God’s city. It’s a plot point I saw coming, but still shed a joyful tear over. I think the romance is also developed very well; it constantly asked me as a reader if I knew the characters well enough to anticipate their next moves, if they would give in to their true desires and growing emotions, or continue to act out of duty. Very thought-provoking questions are asked concerning what the responsibilities of gods are versus the responsibilities of humans in a world full of joy as well as heartbreak. Seeing how human the gods and goddesses act and appear may be a greater part of the original mythology this author draws from (that I can’t admit to be very knowledgeable in at all), but I like how she crafts it in her own rendition here. The story’s consistent theme concerning fate and the authority one can choose to have over such a thing really intrigued me. At times it felt a bit aloof, and as a result left me feeling like I wasn’t as close to the characters’ inner minds as I would’ve liked to be. I think this is partly due to the writing style, which I enjoyed as well as admire, but it’s just different from my own and others I’ve seen in fantasy authors that I can’t quite put my finger on so soon after finishing the book. It might be due to the fact that Mina, our main heroine, tells us her story through a first person account, but does a lot of telling and flashing back to memories of her family and homeland. I consciously noticed flashbacks at the beginning of the novel more so than in the middle, and was truthfully a bit disconcerted. It seemed like more time could’ve been devoted to developing Mina as a character in her current situation under the sea than in telling about her life before the inciting incident. It’s because of her love for her brother, Joon, and the clear love he has for Shim Cheong, that Mina sacrifices herself to a fate as the Sea God’s bride in the first place — so her brother may live with the woman he loves. However distant I may have felt from Mina as a narrator, I never doubted her upstanding character and deep desire to just see those she loves and cares about happy and safe. The other gods and goddesses in the pages of this story also added color to the already multilayered Spirit Realm we become well-acquainted with. I loved the unexpected character development of the Goddess of the Moon and Memories, as well as the time spent back in Mina’s homeland, Beside-the-Sea, in the last few chapters. A book that prompts me to check how many pages are left before the end is a good book on my shelf; I wasn’t sure if this tale was going to have a happy ending, or if I was going to be okay with such an ending. I ended up really appreciating how all the events tied together, how Shin lost his memories rather than abandoned Mina. The irony of the emperor essentially asking Mina to marry him twice also felt fitting, since time and again Mina is called to enter into the spotlight of a role she feels she must play to save the lives of others, with her own life considered second. I think her selflessness might contribute a bit to why she felt less relatable than other heroines, because she truly acts as the daring and loving heroine worthy of legends and timeless retellings. Despite being human, physically weak within a realm of spirits, and afraid of the unknown more than once, she proves to be the bride of the Sea God because the love she finds for Shin grows free from the constraint of “shoulds” or “musts”. In short, this story’s plot swung like a pendulum, keeping me on my toes and changing direction just when I was sure I’d had everything figured out. Oh, and it was kind of short lived, but I loved the trope where Mina wasn’t able to speak and Shin read her lips. The sass and banter from both parties was so fun to read and clued me in pretty early to where I could expect the seed of romance to bloom. That being said, I’m also very grateful to this book for helping me with a bit of my thesis research. It’ll be just a drop in the bucket of other books, articles, and works I’ll be referencing for my project. But because it possesses love, a god of the sea, memory loss, and a creative spin on rich folklore, it’s been helpful in the marathon writing my own ocean-related novel has been. :) 



Some of my favorite quotes from The Girl Who Fell Beneath The Sea:

“Stories are both an escape from the truths of the world and the only way to see them clearly.”

“Not all storytellers are grandmothers, but all grandmothers are storytellers.”

“In order to remain a human you'd have to tie your life to an immortal. I may not be the god of a river, a mountain, or a lake, but I am a god, and I would tie my life to yours, if you'll have me."

​I won’t go so far as to say that the movie was better in this instance, but seeing the film adaptation of this zombified-classic made it a bit hard for me to be as invested in the more tame plot the novel holds. Frankly, the movie goes for a more action-packed feel and focus, which makes sense — our modern audience’s attention span is already so short. But the novel’s afterword helped me to better appreciate what the addition of zombies in a Jane Austen book means in the larger perspective of the gothic genre. The afterword, written by English professor Dr. Allen Grove of Alfred University, makes it clear that the emergence and wild popularity of the gothic genre in Austen’s time (which she pokes fun at in Northanger Abbey, a fave of mine) would be most likely influenced Austen to like a version like this one to be made out of her now-beloved novel. Because, of course, there’s all sorts of reimagined literature already in existence concerning the Bennet sisters, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy. But Gothic writers in the early 1800s wrote the dark stuff they did as a form of rebellion when people all over the world were physically rebelling in revolutions over freedom and politics. Adding brain-hungry monsters to the landscape of a peaceful, high society-driven London and English countryside is delightful precisely because it doesn’t seem like the two should fit together, but they do. They really do! It makes sense to see the Bennet sisters highly trained in the deadly arts, in fact it’s incredibly satisfying to see them act dually as refined ladies and warriors. I at least think it adds a layer of true depth to these already interesting female characters, making them even more relatable and likable heroines for modern readers because they are more than capable of taking care of themselves and rival if not equal the warrior skills of their eventual husbands. And it also makes sense to see zombies infiltrating England, forcing what would otherwise be undisturbed young ladies and gentlemen into soldiers in the service of keeping their country safe. I just have to say, though, that I like some of the liberties the movie took in making a more action-based plot (aka, more of an attachment between Lizzy and Wickham, the congregation of St. Lazarus’ Church, and Wickham literally being the Anti Christ lol). The novel, however, has some fun quirks and plot points I appreciated, like Charlotte’s slow transformation from human to zombie, Mr. Collins’ unexpected end, and a final image of Wickham attached to Lydia, continually wetting himself. I’m glad to have tried my hand at some zombie literature, and essentially reread my beloved Pride and Prejudice in the process. It was also quite fitting to read during the current time I’m spending living in London, too!


Some of my favorite quotes from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies:

“Of all the weapons she had commanded, Elizabeth knew the least of love; and of all the weapons in the world, love was the most dangerous.”

“‘I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Without having read any of his novels or short stories, I've now read King's memoir on his craft cover to cover. If his fiction is anything like his nonfiction, I'm gonna have to get over my squeamishness of horror and read one of his less paranormal tales. I didn't have too many expectations when I started reading this apart from a hope that I'd take away at least one helpful tidbit of writing advice or encouragement. What I didn't expect was for King to state nearly right off the bat that nothing in the book would truly be linear. I think that proves to be more of a half truth, since the three main sections of the book deal with comparatively different topics while still managing to keep King's perspective on writing and living the life of a writer at their centers. The first section set me up for an entire book of sparsely connected anecdotes and (sometimes) far fetched stories of adolescence, which I was quickly on board with. Most of what we learn about life and its creative trades is through stories, after all. But then the meat of the book, practically titled On Writing, made it clear for this reader that I would get some clear-cut writing advice and discussions on the craft before reaching the last page. The way this advice is given, though, stands out to me the most. You might expect as prolific and recognizable an author as Stephen King to throw down advice from his throne without much humility or self-awareness. That's a bit harsh, but I was prepared for it nonetheless. But King advertises his advice and tips as what he's found to work for him, and not some sort of one size fits all for every single individual who happens to like writing enough to give it a go and​ pick up this book. Because I was encouraged to take every tidbit with a grain of salt, I was more inclined to actually set them aside for later in the metaphorical toolbox King illustrates masterfully. The advice and tips are also developed with examples, hypotheticals, and anecdotes that make it impossible to forget the entire first section you spent your time reading to get acquainted with King's rejection slips, substance abuse, and financial struggles. The third distinct section tied it all in a bow for me. King gets meta on us, and I appreciated as well as admired the risk. He explains to his readers that in the midst of struggling to finish the very book they're holding, its author nearly died. And even after leaving a very real brush with death in the past, physical pain and healing consumed his future -- and the book still wasn't done. My respect for nonfiction authors increases every time I can sense that they genuinely strove for total honestly in their work. Needless to say, my respect for King increased here without a doubt. And the short prose he uses to detail his gruesome accident and its aftermath had me hooked. As I write forward and onward, I'll keep King's words of wisdom as well as the fun, raw, and witty stories from his life in mind. I'm sure I'll get around to reading one of his novels sooner rather than later.


Some of my favorite quotes from On Writing:

​"...good story ideas seem to come quite literally from nowhere, sailing at you right out of the empty sky."

"Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot of difference. They don't have to make speeches. Just believing is usually enough."

"Life isn't a support-system for art. It's the other way around."

"...books are a uniquely portable magic."

"At such times I find a book vital. If I have to spend time in purgatory before going to one place or the other, I guess I'll be all right as long as there's a lending library."

"Come to it any way but lightly. Let me say it again: you must not come lightly to the blank page."

"I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops." (lol)

"I'm convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing."

"The object of fiction isn't grammatical correctness but to make the reader welcome and then tell a story ... to make him/her forget, whenever possible, that he/she is reading a story at all."

"Even after a thousand pages we don't want to leave the world the writer has made for us, or the make-believe people who live there."

"If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There's no way around these two things that I'm aware of, no shortcut."

"You cannot hope to sweep someone else away by the force of your writing until it has been done to you."

"Reading is the creative center of a writer's life."

"If not for heart and imagination, the world of fiction would be a pretty seedy place. It might not even exist at all."

"I think you will find that, if you continue to write fiction, every character you create is partly you."

"If there is any one thing I love about writing more than the rest, it's that sudden flash of insight when you see how everything connects."

"Good fiction always begins with story and progresses to theme; it almost never begins with theme and progresses to story."

"I have written because it fulfilled me ... And if you can do it for joy, you can do it forever."