#Middle Grade Monday #Book Review of Enola and the Black Barouche by Nancy Springer @Wednesday Books30/8/2021
Enola Holmes is the much younger sister of her more famous brothers, Sherlock and Mycroft. But she has all the wits, skills, and sleuthing inclinations of them both. At fifteen, she's an independent young woman--after all, her name spelled backwards reads 'alone'--and living on her own in London. When a young professional woman, Miss Letitia Glover, shows up on Sherlock's doorstep, desperate to learn more about the fate of her twin sister, it is Enola who steps up. It seems her sister, the former Felicity Glover, married the Earl of Dunhench and per a curt note from the Earl, has died. But Letitia Glover is convinced this isn't the truth, that she'd know--she'd feel--if her twin had died. The Earl's note is suspiciously vague and the death certificate is even more dubious, signed it seems by a John H. Watson, M.D. (who denies any knowledge of such). The only way forward is for Enola to go undercover--or so Enola decides at the vehement objection of her brother. And she soon finds out that this is not the first of the Earl's wives to die suddenly and vaguely--and that the secret to the fate of the missing Felicity is tied to a mysterious black barouche that arrived at the Earl's home in the middle of the night. To uncover the secrets held tightly within the Earl's hall, Enola is going to require help--from Sherlock, from the twin sister of the missing woman, and from an old friend, the young Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether!  My thoughts:
Enola Holmes is the seventh story in Nancy Springer's series of Middle Grade mysteries featuring Sherlock's younger sister. If you haven't read the previous titles in the series, don't worry: a) it can be easily read as a standalone b) we get an introductory chapter from Sherlock himself with a hilarious recap of Enola's previous adventures. We also learn that fifteen-year-old Enola is a very independent and resourceful young lady who lodges at Professional Women'sClub in London. When Dr Watson writes to her and asks her to help with one of Sherlock's famous bouts of melancholia , she immediately hurries to Baker Street. While she is there, trying to get any kind of reaction from her depressed brother, a potential client arrives. Letitia Glover, a young professional woman (a typist) desperately needs Sherlock's detective expertise, but alas! it isn't easy to draw his interest. Enola, on the other hand, is immediately moved by Tish's pleas. Her sister Felicity's rich husband, the Earl of Dunhench, sent Tish a note informing her that her sister unexpectedly fell ill and passed away, but Tish is convinced that Felicity is still alive. Enola is a delightful character. She is smart, determined, witty and doesn't take herself too seriously. She's also extremely enterprising and brave. This is a historical mystery, so all of her adventures are set against the background of the Victorian society with its particular customes. The book is rich in detail - from changing fashions, food, a typical layout of a lady's boudoir and different kinds of carriages to typical attitudes. It was great to see how Enola and Sherlock worked on the case approaching it in similar ways-they both collected information, looked at the evidence, analysed documents and even set up a trap for the culprit. The writing was very engaging, easy to follow and fun to read. I would definitely recommend it not just to MG/YA audience, but anyone who likes strong, independent female leads witha delightful sense of humour. Thank you to NetGalley and St.Martin'sPress/Wednesday Booksforthe ARC provided in exchange for an honest opinion.
Eyes of the Forest
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play 
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My thoughts:
A quick, entertaining read for anyone who loves books about books, mystery and fantasy. April Henry is a master storyteller, who knows how to engage her reader and keep their attention all way through! Bridget is a quiet girl with a gift for noticing and remembering details. She's been working for her favourite author RM Haldon keeping track of of every little scrap of info related to the fictional universe of his fantasy books. If you belong to any fandoms, you'll appreciate her good luck in getting this dream job. The latest instalment in the series is overdue, but Bridget is relentlesslessly defending Haldon. She is understandably worried, when the author goes missing. These books gave her mom so much comfort when she was fighting her terminal disease, Bridget feels she needs to everything she can to solve the mystery and save the writer. I am a big fan of Stephen King and this one is essentially a YA retelling of one of his timeless classics, which originated the trope of a crazy/stalkerish fan. You probably know which book/movie I'm talking about. When a trope is good, it IS good,and is worth re-exploring and re-imagining. Our world has changed - a huge part of our lives is now led online, for better or worse. There's also more awareness/attention paid to lifestyle choices (where there is a choice, which isn't always the case), although things are not straightforward and not everyone is going to be comfortable with this aspect of the story. I really liked the characters April Henry created in this book- perhaps with the exception of one, which seemed a bit far-fetched. Bridget is smart, independent, and resourceful. It was also great to see the pressures of writing and the publishing world from the point of view ofBob/ RMHaldon. The story is told in short, snappy chapters with excellent pace, which contributes to building suspense and sense of urgency. Overall, a fast-paced YA mystery with multiple POVs, a compelling storyline and interesting issues explored. Thank you to Giselle from XBT for inviting me to participate in this blog tour, and to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC, provided in exchange for an honest opinion. Hosted by:
Cursed Beauty
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by: #Book Blitz #Seventeen Butterflies by Anna Katmore #Contemporary Romance #YA @Xpresso Book Tours23/8/2021
Seventeen Butterflies
-- EXCERPT: “Who. Are. You?” The words fly out of my mouth even before the front door falls shut behind me. There’s a stranger in my house—built like a demi-god, demonic dark hair, and with eyes like an angel. He comes out of the bathroom as if he’d just taken a break after parking himself in my home for a cozy film marathon. Hello? The intruder with the white t-shirt wipes his still damp hands on the back of his washed-out jeans, not even half as confused as I am, obviously. “My name’s Thane,” he says. Then he smiles, and the sun is rising a second time today at half past six in the evening. What the hell? He cocks his head. “And yours?” My backpack slides from my right shoulder, pulling one side of my unzipped dark blue hoodie with it, and hits the tiled hallway floor with a thud so loud the neighbors could hear. That’s from the five new books I just borrowed from the library. All hardcovers. “Huh?” Dimples and an amused look make the young man’s eyes scrunch a little tighter. “Your name?” Jeez, burglars don’t usually smirk and engage you in conversations, do they? Then again, we’ve never been robbed before, so what do I know? With a jerk of my shoulder, I push my hoodie back in place and then grab my brother’s old hockey stick from behind the chest in the foyer. We’ve been keeping it there since the day I watched my first murder mystery as a kid, and today I swing it for the first time. “I’m Sandra Michelle Cardington. Cardington as in the name written on the mailbox outside this house. My house.” Need I say, “I live here!” My fingers clenching around the wood, I move one step closer to the housebreaker. “You don’t.” “Whoa.” His chuckle runs wild into nice boyish laughter, and he lifts his hands in surrender. Not gonna help, cutie. I’ll knock your lights out. As I scowl like a wild dog, he keeps his body rigid, but his star-blue eyes move to the right as he shouts over his shoulder, “You didn’t say you’re living with Harley Quinn, Cam.” The next instant, he moves forward so swiftly I totally miss the moment. With just one hand, he brings my arms down then casts a friendly look straight into my eyes. “Let me show you how this works. This isn’t a baseball bat, you know. You use it a little closer to the ground.” 
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by: #Book Blitz #Tempest (The Veil Chronicles Book1) by C.J.Campbell #YA Fantasy @XpressoBookTours16/8/2021
Tempest
-- EXCERPT: I slide into a slouch and make a happy hum of approval with my next slurp. Resting my head against the window, I close my eyes and listen to the rain pound. The earlier spit has given way to a deluge. This is close to my idea of bliss—coffee, quiet, and the rain. Between the beats against the car’s chassis, something vibrates. A noise so out of place in the lullaby of rainfall that I sit bolt upright. Another buzz, and a shiver spider-walks my spine. I squint in the dark, chest so tight it’s impossible to breathe. A light illuminates the driver’s side compartment. The sound the plastic makes with the third buzz rattles my very bones. I shove my coffee cup into the holder and squeeze my upper half through the gap between the seat and door. Fingers outstretched, I grapple for my father’s cell phone that blurs to life for the fourth time. Once in my hand, I clutch it to my chest and curl into the darkness of the backseat, as if the shadows might somehow protect me. The screen illuminates for the last time. I peek at the number, but it’s listed as unknown. My heart bangs so loud that I’m afraid it will shatter my ribs. There’s no one outside, at least not that I can tell, but that doesn’t mean anything. A car pulls into the space opposite, the garish headlights flood the backseat. I gasp and throw myself onto the floor, pulling Father’s jacket over my head. Each second that ticks by feels like an eternity. My breath comes in quick, startled pants, and I shut my eyes to pray. Not that I’m overly spiritual, but right now I’ll try anything. “Please, please don’t be them,” I mouth, fingernails biting into the plastic of the phone. “Keep my parents inside, please.” The lights die and doors slam. A second later, feminine laughter bounces around the empty lot and heeled shoes clatter past the car. Relief rushes through every vein in my body until I’m limp as a fish. “Thank you,” I whisper and rub a hand down my face. I toss off the jacket and heave up onto the backseat. It takes a full minute before my breathing regulates and I no longer feel my pulse in my ears. All I can do is stare at the phone screen, at the unlisted number, and contemplate what it means. As if in answer, the phone buzzes in my hand again. I almost drop it, ready to nose-dive to the floor, but morbid curiosity keeps me glued to the spot. It’s not a phone number this time, but a text. A simple sentence that reads: You can’t protect her forever, Fred. They’ll come for her. She’ll need us. T.
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Mark of the Wicked
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play 
My thoughts: Dark and sinister, Mark of the Wicked is a story of a teenage witch who is in a desperate need of getting a second chance in life, although she herself isn't aware of it. If you like books in the paranormal genre, you do know how the female characters often tend to be either hapless beginners who have just discovered they are The Special One or tough, independent fighters (with a penchant for wearing dark colours) against all the injustice in the world. They are Inherently Good, otherwise what example would they set? Right? Well, Matilda from Mark of the Wicked doesn't fall into either category. She is quite unlikeable with her petty revenges and self-cetredness. It's just that she can get away with them. For now... Matilda comes from a powerful bloodline of witches and has been taught by her grandmother and her mother that magic should be used for good and there is a balance in nature. When magic is used to hurt someone, the victim's name is carved on the face of the witch. Everything changes when Matilda's father teaches her a painful, but powerful spell for concealing the traces of her wrongdoing (originally created to protect the witchfolk from being persecuted). Why work hard on using magic to help people without getting any thanks, let alone a personal reward, if you can have fun watching them gets scared or confused? You can guess that it is going to go either the Dorian Gray way or…something really bad is going to happen and shake Matilda into questioning her own decisions. In this case, Oliver, a new boy at Matilda's school becomes interested in her magic, and, all the wicked, inexplicable things that start happening in their small town seem to point at Matilda. I like stories where the main character develops and discovers that everyone makes mistakes in life. You have to face the consequences, but you're not alone, there are people who will see you as more than just a sum of your errors and will be there for you when you need help. Mark of the Wicked is a dark and atmosheric read -the events take place around Halloween, so a certain amount of creepiness is only to be expected. It was really interesting to read about the magic system and Matilda's family history. There are some fascinating secondary characters, including Nana May. The pace is a bit slower in the first part of the book, but it is understandable, the setting and the moral ambiguity of the main character need to be established. Overall, this is a promising debut from Georgia Bowers and I will be looking forward to reading more of her unusual, atmospheric stories. Thank you to Giselle from Xpresso Book Tours, NetGalley, Macmillan's Children's group/Swoon Reads and the author for the review copy. All opinions are my own and were not influenced in any way. #Blog Tour #Book Review of He'll Be Waiting by Liz Alterman #Young Adult#Thriler @Xpresso Book Tours11/8/2021
Today I'm delighted to participate in the blog tour for He'll be Waiting, a new, gripping thriller by Liz Alterman.
He’ll Be Waiting
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Indiebound 
My thoughts:
What a ride!Liz Alterman's newest thriller He'll Be Waiting proved to be such a gripping, compelling read, I just had to finish it in one sitting and here I am writing this review five hours after I picked the book! 17-year-old Tess Porter wakes up in a hospital with broken bones, bruises all over her aching body, stitches on her head after a surgery and, for better or worse, no memory of the 'accident' that caused all of this. Her parents are there taking shifts looking after her, doctors, nurses, a psychologist- the only person who is missing is her boyfriend James. Tess remembers that James was supposed to come back home from his college a day early to spend it with her, but probe further and her mind draws a painful blank. When she does see him, his visits are hurried, full of apologies and half-memories. What exactly is going on? Why would people who love her or are supposed to make her well-being their highest priority would force her through this torture of trying to remember the events of that snowy day on her own, without help? Why not just tell her what happened? This is about as much as I can tell you without spoiling the story. Pay attention- the clues are there all there. When it all slowly and gradually gets revealed, you'll see how well-thought-through this compelling plot is. Personally, I don't like it when crucial information comes out at the end and there's no way you could have guessed who the culprit is and what their motivation was. This isn't the case here. Everything is foreshadowed and developed later. The same can be said about the characters. When we first meet Tess, she is hurting, she's confused, she's focused on herself, but through her eyes we get to see the people who are most important to her and who are all somehow involved in this mystery. Part of the message of this book is that everything is interconnected and even the smallest of our actions can have unpredictable consequences. Unpredictable because we can't control other people, their feelings and their actions, but we can do our best to be there for people we love and pay real attention to them. The book is very easy to read, it just grips you and compels you to keep turning pages until you solve Tessa's mystery and go through a rich mix of masterfully-portrayed emotions - grief, anxiety, anger, sadness, forgiveness. An extremely well-written YA thriller from the author I didn't know much about, but certainly hope to read more in future. Thank you to Giselle from Xpresso Book Tours, the publisher and the author for the review copy provided in exchange for an honest opinion. #Book Blitz #The Living Sword 3- The Burden of Legacy by Pemry james #YA Fantasy @Xpresso Book Tours8/8/2021
The Living Sword 3 – The Burden of Legacy
-- EXCERPT: “Ah, so we’re heading for smithies,” Misthell said. Startled, Eurik glanced over his shoulder at the blade. “We are. How did you know?” “We’re looking for my makers, that’s the point of this whole story. Also, there were at least two carts laden with iron bars and coal we passed heading the same way we are.” Looking past Misthell, Eurik spotted one of the carts in question. “Right. I should have noticed that.” “You’re too focused on one thing. Or should I say, one Way. Why don’t you try Dance of the Whirlwind to find what you’re looking for?” He hesitated for a moment as the people flowed around him. But these past weeks, what little time he’d had for training had been taken up by Silver Fang. And on the Road, even wind chiri didn’t quite work as it should. Taking a deep breath, he reached out only to have Misthell whistle sharply in his ear. Eurik flinched away. “What was that for?” “Because you’re starting wrong. The wind is motion, so if you’re trying to become one with the wind . . .” He sighed. He should know this and he did. “So must I.” Eurik moved forward, arms hanging loose at his side, fingers lightly splayed, and felt for the flow of wind chiri. Though flow was the wrong word for the chaotic mess swirling around him, a chaos he added to with every step, every breath. On reflex, he closed his eyes to better concentrate on his other sense. He tried feeling for the ringing of steel, of hammers striking hot iron. But the wind chiri shied away from his reach, his flow rebuffing those around him. Eurik sidestepped a group walking toward them, their wake washing over him. A sharp flow snaked its way out of a tavern to his left, carrying a jaunty tune. Behind him an ox exerted himself, hot air blasting out with every huff. Those flows he could feel, because they mixed and bounced off his own, but they also constrained his world. He pushed, wind ruffling clothes and hair, and he felt his perception expand. So did the chaos, new flows emerging within his flow while more flows beat at it from without. The wingbeat of a lake gull, the wind blowing over the rooftops of Urumoy, hot air rising from a dozen chimneys, the staccato of a thousand voices whispering, speaking, hollering. Eurik swayed, and a wagon wheel ground past his toes, almost crushing them. “Look where you’re going!” Opening his eyes, he staggered away as he lost his connection with the world. Out of the flow of traffic, into a narrow, shadowed alley. The air hung in there, thick and fetid. His deep breaths only set him to coughing. “What did you do wrong?” “I—” Another cough. Eurik shook his head. “I don’t know.” Breathing through his nose wasn’t better, only made the smell worse, but it helped against the coughing. “I tried to reach out to find the smithy, but I got swamped by the city. There was too much.” “Wind is not earth,” Misthell said, his voice changing into a familiar one. One Eurik had not heard in months. “It is more like water, flowing from a place of abundance to one where there is absence. The wind dances to its own music, and you must dance with it if you wish to guide it to where you need it.” Eurik blinked until his sight stopped being blurry. “You talked a lot to sesin.” “Yeah. What, you thought I’d spent all that time in a box?” Eurik shook his head. “Hard to imagine. I would have found you within a year or so if that were true. All I would have to do is follow the stream of complaints.” “You mean pointed reminders. Not my fault your fleshy minds leak memories like sieves.” 
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Today I'm delighted to participate in the blog tour for Grenade Bouquets by Lee Matthew Goldberg, the second book in his Runaway Train series.
Grenade Bouquets
EXCERPT
2
Genetic – Sonic Youth When I get home, Mom is on the couch with one of those huge mugs that could be used for soup or tea. She’s got the AC blasting and wearing a sweater with wool scrunchie socks like a loon. I’m surprised not to see Mr. Ferguson, or rather, Roger, her new boyfriend. Most nights they sit on the couch together and watch old romantic films like Roman Holiday or Bringing Up Baby. Old movies bug me, the acting seems so forced and fake, and everything is so overdramatic. I’d rather watch Heathers for the nineteen-thousandth time. Mom and Roger have a pretty sweet setup. Roger literally lives next door with only a fence separating them, so they haven’t moved in together yet. They decided to ix-nay the idea of putting an extension between their houses. Something I’m not ready for either, since Roger has two chow-chows that take giant log-like shits that would make even the Log Lady from Twin Peaks proud. “Nico,” Mom says, as she waves me over. She removes a knitted blanket from the seat next to her and pats for me to sit. I curl up and see she’s watching My So-Called Life. “Aren’t you a little old for that show?” I ask, as I watch Angela make moon eyes for Jordan Catalano. “I was once in high school too, ya-know,” she says, and her eyes glaze over. I imagine she’s remembering times from the olden days. “Although it was so different than what you kids are dealing with now. Alcoholism, school violence, AIDS…” I have a realization that my high-school life has basically been My So-Called Life and not 90210. I’m Angela, Winter’s wild Rayanne, and Jeremy is flamboyant Rickie. Although there’d never been a boy like Jordan Catalano in the halls who looked my way. Mom wraps an errant hair around my ear and fingers my faux diamond stud. “How was Winter’s?” I must’ve made a harumph sound because she gets this concerned dent between her eyes. “I dunno…” I try to form what I want to say. “Winter can be such a bitch.” Mom mutes the TV as Claire Danes with her crimson hair flails around in her oversized flannel at a backyard party before she gets shoved in the mud. “It’s probably hard for her to watch you go.” “I’m only like going for a few weeks.” “Sweetie, you two aren’t glued at the hip anymore, it’s natural.” I pick up her big mug and take a sip. It’s ginger tea. “Really?” “Not everyone gets a best friend in high school like you both had. But you can’t stay best friends forever, it’s not possible. There’ll be college and jobs and husbands and many new friends. I haven’t talked to my best friend Lucille in ages.” “Isn’t she the one who sells hair?” “It’s for a non-profit charity, but yes, she does sell hair for wigs. That’s my point. We’re so different. She never had children…” Mom pauses at the word ‘children’ and then recalibrates, her hardwire telling her she only has one child now. A sigh like a fog over a moor escapes from her lips. “We grew apart. Like what’s happening with Angela and Rayanne,” she continues, nodding at the TV. “And with you and Winter.” “She has this godawful new friend Emily, who’s like the worst. And I think they…” I struggle to say they might be doing cocaine. Mom might think she’s all cool with her My So-Called Life knowledge, but cocaine would be too big a leap. “She’s a bad influence.” Mom pulls me close. We used to do this when I was little, snuggle up and eat a bowl of Teddy Grahams or something. But then I became a demon around the age of eleven and shut myself up in my room blaring Nirvana whenever I was home. |
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Photos from Simon_sees, Dmitry Karyshev
