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Nahri has never believed in magic. Certainly, she has power; on the streets of 18th century Cairo, she’s a con …
For more than two hundred years, the Owens women have been blamed for everything that went wrong in their Massachusetts …
Very charming fantasy grounded in the imaginative childhood games of the Bronte siblings.
Arriving in Tangier with her new husband only to encounter the estranged best friend she has not seen in more …
A journey through psychology, philosophy, and lots of meditation that shows how Buddhism holds the key to moral clarity and …
When two young sisters disappear from a strip mall parking lot in a small Pennsylvania town, their devastated mother hires …
Following her record-breaking debut trilogy, Ann Leckie, winner of the Hugo, Nebula, Arthur C. Clarke and Locus Awards, returns with …
Two people. Ten chances. One unforgettable love story. Laurie is pretty sure love at first sight doesn't exist anywhere but …
"THE SECOND BOOK IN MIRA GRANT'S TERRIFYING PARASITOLOGY SERIES. THE ENEMY IS INSIDE US. The SymboGen designed tapeworms were created …
"Toby is a happy-go-lucky charmer who's dodged a scrape at work and is celebrating with friends when the night takes …
It's 1988. The CD has arrived. Sales of the shiny new disks are soaring on …
At best this is an excellent work of music appreciation masquerading as an aggressively uninteresting novel. The prose about specific works of music is engaging and transformative but the story feels so inconsequential it's hard to feel like anything much is at stake. A bunch of boys who seem to have nothing more serious to worry about than what their music is recorded on sit around and hope the owner of an errant handbag comes back for it. Then she does. It doesn't feel tedious exactly but I wonder if the tedious banality of the characters lives is being intentionally placed in counterpoint to the big ideas and tragic stories of the music. And the narrative payoff is an improbable tropey romance that I desperately hope no one takes seriously with regard to what to expect out of their relationships.
It's 1988. The CD has arrived. Sales of the shiny new disks are soaring on …
At best this is an excellent work of music appreciation masquerading as an aggressively uninteresting novel. The prose about specific works of music is engaging and transformative but the story feels so inconsequential it's hard to feel like anything much is at stake. A bunch of boys who seem to have nothing more serious to worry about than what their music is recorded on sit around and hope the owner of an errant handbag comes back for it. Then she does. It doesn't feel tedious exactly but I wonder if the tedious banality of the characters lives is being intentionally placed in counterpoint to the big ideas and tragic stories of the music. And the narrative payoff is an improbable tropey romance that I desperately hope no one takes seriously with regard to what to expect out of their relationships.
