book review

Top Quotes from Hardy’s ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’

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Sheepfold at Early Morning by Sir George Clausen. Image from Gallerix.org.

Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy Genre: British classics I read it as a(n): paperback Length: 468 pp Her Grace’s rating: 4 stars 

So this is one of those classics that I not only never read in high school or college, but I didn’t even know what the plot was. Like, at all. All I knew was from the blurb on the book that I have. Since I want to be better about reading more classics, I thought this would be a good one to start with partly because I didn’t know anything about it, and because it’s British and I like British authors for the most part. 

But I don’t feel like writing a proper review of it. It’s been sitting on my desk for weeks since I finished it, waiting for me to review it. Other than saying that I loved it and that there were quite a few parts that I thought were actually hilarious, it was a solid story. I thought it took a bit longer than necessary to introduce all of Bathsheba’s suitors, but it was fine. I loved it overall regardless. 

One thing I like to do is make a note of any books or music that are mentioned in a book. The literature mentioned in this one is:

Anyway, like I said, I don’t feel like writing an actual review. Partly because I’ve had the book sitting on my desk for weeks and I finished reading this quite some time ago. So instead of a traditional review, I’m going to share my favorite lines from the novel. Here they are. Behold.

The instinctive act of human-kind was to stand, and listen, and learn how the trees on the right and the trees on the left wailed or chanted to each other in the regular antiphonies of a cathedral choir; how hedges and other shapes to leeward then caught the notes, lowering it to the tenderest sob; and how the hurrying gust then plunged into the south to be heard no more (14).

To find themselves utterly alone at night where company is desirable and expected makes some people fearful; but a case more trying by far to the nerves is to discover some mysterious companionship when intuition, sensation, memory, analogy, testimony, probability, induction – every kind of evidence in the logician’s list – have united to persuade consciousness that it is quite in isolation (18). [Extroverts? I think this describes extroverts.]

“My name is Gabriel Oak.”
“And mine isn’t. You seem fond of yours in speaking it so decisively Gabriel Oak.”
“You see, it is the only one I shall ever have, and I must make the most of it.” (27)

There was left to him a dignified calm he had never before known and that indifference to fate which, though it often makes a villain of a man is the basis of his sublimity when it does not (43).

[Discussing Joseph Poorgrass’s shyness]
“Yes – very awkward for a man.”
“Ay – and he’s very timid too,” observed Jan Coggan. “Once he had been working late at Yalbury Bottom, and had had a drap of drink, and lost his way as he was coming home-along through Yalbury Wood – didn’t ye, Master Poorgrass?”
“No, no, no – not that story!” expostulated the modest man, forcing a laugh to bury his concern.
“-And so ‘a lost himself quite,” continued Mr Coggan with an impassive face implying that a true narrative, like time and tide, must run its course and would respect no man. “And as he was coming along in the middle of the night, much afeared, and not able to find his way out of the trees no-how, ‘a cried out, ‘Man-a-lost! Man-a-lost!’ A owl in a tree happened to be crying ‘Whoo-whoo-whoo!’ as owls do you know, Shepherd” (Gabriel noddled), “and Joseph, all in a tremble, said ‘Joseph Poorgrass of Weatherbury, sir!’” (62-63). [LOOOOOOL that poor guy! 😂]

The good old word of sin thrown in here and there at such times is a great relief to a merry soul (65).

It was one of the usual slow sunrises of this time of the year, and they sky, pure violet in the zenith, was leaden to the northward, and murky to the east, where, over the snowy down or ewe-lease on Weatherbury Upper Farm, and apparently resting upon the ridge, the only half of the sun yet visible burnt rayless, like a red and flameless fire shining over a white hearthstone. The whole effect resembled a sunset as a childhood resembles age.
In other directions the fields and sky were so much of one colour by the snow that it was difficult in a hasty glance to tell whereabouts the horizon occurred; and in general there was here too that before mentioned preternatural inversion of light and shade which attends the prospect when the garish brightness commonly in the sky is found on the earth and the shades of earth are in the sky. Over the west hung the wasting moon, now dull and greenish-yellow, like tarnished brass (104).

O I love him to very distraction, and misery and agony. … Loving is misery for women always (207).

[Petrichor!] She went out of the house just at the close of a timely thundershower, which had refined the air, and daintily bathed the coat of the land, though all beneath was dry as ever. Freshness was exhaled in an essence from the varied contours of bank and hollow, as if the earth breathed maiden breath, and the pleased birds were hymning to the scene (210).

But man, even to himself, is a palimpsest, having an ostensible writing, and another beneath the lines. It is possible that there was this golden legend under the utilitarian one: “I will help, to my last effort, the woman I have loved so dearly” (254).

[A mutt!] He was a huge heavy and quiet creature, standing darkly against the low horizon, and at least two feet higher than the present position of her eyes. Whether Newfoundland, mastiff, bloodhound, or what not, it was impossible to say. He seemed to be of too strange and mysterious a nature to belong to any variety among those of popular nomenclature. Being thus assignable to no breed he was the ideal embodiment of canine greatness – a generalization from what was common to all (277).

All romances end at marriage (281).

Where however happy circumstance permits its development the compounded feeling proves itself to be the only love which is strong as death – that love which many writers cannot quench, nor the floods drown, beside which the passion usually called by the name is evanescent as steam (409). 

References:
Clausen, Sir George. A Sheepfold, Early Morning. 1890. Oil on canvas. Gallerix, https://gallerix.org/storeroom/1363/N/287/. 

Hardy, Thomas. Far from the Madding Crowd. Edited by Suzanne B. Falck-Yi and Linda M. Shires, 2nd ed., Oxford University Press, 2008.

Why Raynor Winn’s Memoir Matters: A Defense Against Criticism
editorial

Why Raynor Winn’s Memoir Matters: A Defense Against Criticism

kristen3 Comments

Some of you fellow book nerds might’ve seen the recent scandal surrounding Raynor Winn, author of the beloved bestselling memoir The Salt Path. If not, here’s the TL;DR version: a “reporter” (we’ll be generous and call her that) from The Observer accused Winn of fabricating parts of her book. She claimed Winn lied about her husband’s neurological illness, said they secretly had a house in France, and basically tried to tear the whole memoir apart.

Then, not long after, the same journalist backpedaled, admitting maybe she hadn’t actually fact-checked her piece very well.

I call bullshit.

In Winn’s statement about this, she says that The Observer had been offered the chance to talk to her and Moth and “to correct their inaccurate account and to be guided on the truth, on the basis that the discussion would not be made public. However, they chose not to take it, preferring to pursue their highly misleading narrative” (Winn). The reporter could’ve used her platform at The Observer to do something meaningful, like highlighting an underreported social issue, talking about a bright young up-and-coming inventor, or maybe even helping someone. But no, she wrote a smear job about a wildly popular book, penned by a flawed, real human being. Newsflash: Winn is human! Not perfect. No one is. But I don’t for one nanosecond believe that Winn fabricated The Salt Path out of whole cloth.

For starters, yes, she mentioned a place in France, but a) it’s a ruin, not a livable house, and b) they were destitute. How were they supposed to get to France with zero money? By beaming there? Could they have tried selling the French place? They did, according to Winn’s statement, but the place is worth almost nothing and the local realtor “saw no point in marketing it” (Winn). Did they actually lose their house because she’d embezzled money from her employer? Not according to her statement, which she printed basically with receipts. I choose to believe she and Moth are gentle and awesome humans, but you never really know a person. And that’s just the thing. Unless you know all the details, which none of us do, don’t assume. And more importantly, it’s really nobody’s business. Writing a memoir doesn’t mean the author signs over their entire private life to public scrutiny. It’s like when a friend asks for your advice. They’re not actually required to take it. Quit acting like entitled monsters.

Also, let’s talk about memoirs in general for a second. Nearly all of them are creative nonfiction. The operative term there is “creative.” Imagine a memoir that was just a dry, factual list. “Dear diary, we lost the house. Then we walked 600+ miles.” How fucking boring. No matter what readers might say, we don’t actually care if a person lost their home or what the reason is that they lost it. We want the heartbreak, the grit, the beauty, the weirdness, the transformation, the discovery, and nature walking, all of that. We don’t want to know just what happened. We want to know how it felt. What we want, in fact, is a story. 

Storytelling makes up the biggest part of human existence. It teaches us, comforts us, challenges us, and elevates us. It is fundamental. It’s how we understand each other. Storytelling makes us human. 

I am not saying that every word in The Salt Path is literal truth. I’m saying that it doesn’t matter. It’s one woman’s lived experience. Ray and Moth are different beings, and they experienced things differently. I would have a different experience too. Interpretation is highly individual. That doesn’t make it a lie. Memoir is not court testimony, nor a science book. It’s an emotional truth that is shaped by individual memory and meaning. With any work of literature, whether it’s poetry or prose or memoir, there is a relationship between the text, the author, and the reader where they create the meaning together. The book doesn’t exist in a vacuum. The French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre wrote about this idea at length. Here is a great blog post about the more salient points of Sartre’s essay: Sartre: Is There a Connection between the Reader and the Writer of Literature? For those of you who are feeling particularly spicy, you can also read the entire thing: What is Literature? Give it a go, seriously. 

This also means readers have a responsibility as well. Stop blindly nodding along with whatever some journalist says. Think for yourselves. 

I came across a YouTube video (not even gonna link it, it’s too stupid. Look it up yourselves if you want to see it and are willing to take the hit to your IQ), claiming The Salt Path harms sick people. What the eternal fuck, now? That’s idiotic on so many levels. For one thing, Winn never, anywhere in her books, said, “If you do exactly what we did, your illness will go away.” I’ve read them all. That’s simply not a thing. What she has said and done, many times, is make it clear how hard Moth’s condition is to diagnose. The only definitive confirmation comes after death through an autopsy. You might understand why she’s reluctant for a real diagnosis under those circumstances. And to these internet armchair medical experts saying, “The life expectancy for CBD is 5 to 8 years, why isn’t he dead yet?” – do you hear yourselves? That is a vile thing to say. You’re rooting for a stranger to die just to prove a point? If you’re in the mood to hope someone cops it, I can give you a list of people who actually deserve it. 

I doubt seriously that many of these internet armchair medical experts are people who trust doctors anyway. There’s almost certainly overlap between the folks who don’t believe Moth is sick and the ones who thought drinking bleach or taking horse dewormer was solid Covid advice. 

That YouTuber also claimed the book gives people false hope. Excuse me? No, it doesn’t. Hope is not a weapon. If you don’t have hope, that’s not Raynor Winn’s fault. And if you’re dumb enough to ignore your doctor’s advice in favor of something you read in a memoir, that’s on you. I’m so sorry if you’re sick. I truly am. But The Salt Path is not to blame for your disappointment. You are not entitled to drag someone else because their experience didn’t match your expectations. Manage your own emotions.

Finally, and this is really the big point for me. Both the publisher and the film company have stated they did their due diligence. They believe in Winn and stand by her. The release of her fourth book has been delayed, not because it’s being scrapped, but because they’re trying to protect her and her family while this shitstorm plays out. They’ve said as much publicly. Feel free to look it up.

So if that “reporter” wants to do some soul-searching and professional self-improvement (doubtful, but okay), maybe she could start by holding herself and her colleagues to actual journalistic standards. Maybe demonstrate some journalistic courage, while they’re at it. For example, the first reporter to ask Trump to his face, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” should instantly win the Pulitzer. She should ask why Black defendants get villainized in crime reporting while white ones get sympathy profiles. She should ask why it’s okay when powerful people lie in ways that can actually harm people and the press is silent, but when a regular person writes a memoir that maybe is embellished a little for the sake of a story, the press suddenly gets all hot and bothered. This journalist, and the people lapping up her nonsense, are part of the problem.

book review · Tudors

The Tragic Tale of Mark Smeaton: A Historical Fiction Review

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The Queen’s Musician by Martha Jean Johnson
Genre: historical fiction
I read it as a(n): digital ARC 
Length: 344 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 5 stars
2025 Reading Challenge tasks: PS: #31 – music plays a prominent role 

Spanning the years 1529 to 1536, The Queen’s Musician follows the story of Mark Smeaton, one of the musicians who played for Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. The novel follows his meteoric rise from total obscurity to fame. Much of his success, at least in this book, stemmed from being in the right place at the right time as much as his genuine musical talent. However, what goes up must come down and his tragic fall from favor was catastrophic and swift. Alongside Smeaton, the novel also follows Madge Shelton, cousin and courtier to Anne Boleyn, whose own path is shaped by the strict rules and expectations of class as well as by rumors. Through the perspectives of these two historical figures, Johnson takes readers on a deep and thoughtful exploration of the perils of the Tudor court.

Anyone familiar with Tudor history knows the fate of Anne Boleyn and the men accused of being her lovers. Smeaton was the lowest-born among them, an easy target for manipulation. Little is known about his life before court, but Johnson vividly imagines what it might have been, filling his world with music that feels as essential as breathing. The novel highlights how deeply Smeaton connected with his art, not just as a performer but as someone who saw music as his true language. His passion for his subject extends beyond the demands of his life as a royal musician. His admiration for composer John Taverner reflects his appreciation for the era’s greatest musical minds. The gentleness written into his character, especially his love for music, people, and, most touchingly, his horses, makes his fate even more devastating. I felt absolute rage on his behalf. 

Music was central to the Tudor court, not just as entertainment but as a reflection of power and prestige. Henry VIII himself was an accomplished musician and composer, and courtiers were expected to be well-versed in music. While some composers of the time, like Thomas Tallis and John Taverner, left behind enduring legacies, no known compositions of Smeaton’s survive. If he did write his own music, as Johnson imagines in the novel, it has been lost to time. This adds to the novel’s poignancy – Smeaton’s talent, like his life, was ultimately erased by history.

Similarly, little is known about Madge Shelton’s early life. At various points, there were rumors that she was briefly Henry VIII’s mistress, but her real experiences are largely unknown. Johnson brings her to life as a woman navigating court politics, her innocent romance with Smeaton offering a brief moment of sweetness amid the court’s poisonous gossiping and currying favor. Even though their social classes made it impossible for them to consider a future, or even a genuine friendship, it was nice to have that hope for just a moment. Their entwined story felt like a rare and delicate thing in a world where relationships were mostly transactional. 

The characters are vibrant and deeply human. Some secondary characters, such as Smeaton’s friend Paul, are a delight on the page and bring a lot of warmth to the story. Others, such as Cromwell and the head musician at court (I’m totally blanking on his name now), give a masterclass in villainy and are the sort of characters you love to hate. Johnson excels at making readers care about them, drawing us into a world where we already know the outcome, but nonetheless making us hope for a minute before slowly shattering our hearts. We know how this journey ends, but the path to that end is gut-wrenching, beautiful, and filled with moments of quiet grace.

Highly recommended for anyone who loves Tudor history or anyone who, like me, enjoys being completely destroyed by a story.

book review · historical fiction

Hungerstone: A Feminist Retelling of Carmilla

kristen1 Comment

Hungerstone by Kat Dunn
Genre: Gothic historical
I read it as a(n): Digital ARC 
Length: 336 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 4.5 stars
2025 Reading Challenge tasks: TND: #1 – a 2025 release 

Lenore Crowther learned at a young age that nobody can save her but herself. She spent her childhood after the death of her parents learning everything a titled lady would need to know, secured herself a wealthy but untitled husband, and carried out a campaign to ingratiate him into the social circles that he craved. 

Ten years later, the shine is worn off the marriage and she has no children to occupy her time like a proper Victorian wife should have. When her husband, Henry, buys a large estate, Nethershaw, Lenore is hopeful it will be just what she needs to break the doldrums. 

However, the decrepit mansion is not at all what she’d hoped for, and the arrival of a mysterious woman who survived a carriage wreck only brings about more dissatisfaction. 

This atmospheric novel drips with the Gothic elements that so many of us love. The mansion isn’t a dark and drafty castle, but it is dilapidated and a sad shadow of its former imposing glory. The place is surrounded by misty heaths, treacherous cliffs, and windswept fields. The landscape and mansion are both characters in themselves, which is always a fun experience for readers, though significantly less so for the characters. 

Lenore tries her hardest to conform to the Victorian ideal of the Angel in the House, but as we read on, we learn that underneath her soft outer layers is a ruthless core of iron. Carmilla, the carriage-crash survivor who is recuperating at Nethershaw, is strange and defies every social convention there is. She awakens previously unknown desires in Lenore that are catalysts for her drastic change throughout the novel. 

This story is so much more than a retelling of Carmilla, as it is marketed, or even about hunger, as indicated in the Author’s Note. It is an examination of demand and dependency, societal expectation, and the injuries that cause invisible damage to us all. It is a commentary of society today as well. There is one quote that perfectly encompasses every issue the novel tackles: “What is a monster but a creature of agency?” Women’s agency, independence, intellect, women who decide for themselves what they want rather than allowing men to do it for them – all can be seen as monstrous depending on who’s doing the interpreting. What makes a monster or a savior is, in this novel, entirely in the eye of the beholder. 

Highly recommended for lovers of Gothic fiction, social commentary, and women who proudly identify as a problem.

book review

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke: A Beautifully Confusing Read

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Piranesi by Susanna Clarke
Genre: fantasy
I read it as a(n): hardback
Length: 245 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 3.5 stars
2025 Reading Challenge tasks: TND: #33 – a title you know nothing about

Piranesi is the story of a man in a strange and hidden world. He is alone but for occasional visits from the man he calls the Other, and the bones of several people.The House Piranesi lives in has endless corridors, statues, fish and sea creatures and birds, as well as an ocean that floods rooms and has tides. When the tides rise and a room floods, Piranesi is careful to move the bones of the people who were there before him so they are safe and they know they aren’t alone. Eventually, in his mission to help the Other find A Great and Secret Knowledge, Piranesi discovers that there may be a great deal more to his world and place in it than he ever could have anticipated. 

It is appropriate that the reading challenge this book fits is the one where you know nothing about the title. I really liked this book. I thought the writing style was beautiful, I loved Piranesi as a character, I thought the setting was fascinating. And I have no fucking idea what this book is actually about. 

Piranesi is the most unreliable of narrators because the House damages one’s memory the more time is spent there. The Other has an agenda of his own and is not helpful. And of course the only other people in the House are the Bone People. So readers are left to wonder where he really is, how he got there, why can’t he get out, where are all the other people, and how long has Piranesi been in the House. He keeps a journal and that is an intrinsic part of who he is. But the entries, with interesting dating systems like “the 4th day of the 8th month in the year the albatross came” are also no help.

I think Clarke wrote this as a story to be experienced rather than understood or explained. It had a very dreamlike quality to it, which I love more the more I think about it. The narrative style bears out the idea that it’s a meditation on dreaming. There is an unnatural calmness to the entire setting. Piranesi is quiet and formal in an archaic way. He’s just so very polite, as my friend said at our book club meeting. Time seems to drift and is fairly meaningless. Overall, I think it works well as a meditation on dreaming because, like dreams themselves, the story works fine on partial knowledge. You know something but don’t know why or how. It just is. Also, things that should scare the living shit out of you, like an endless house with an ocean trapped inside it, are just part of the setting and are not alarming. Partly it’s just again with that calmness. The House and Piranesi just have their own internal logic that works. It doesn’t matter if we understand how it works, only that it works. 

Another thing that I really loved, and which also fits the dreamlike narrative, is the deliberate mix of the sacred and the profane. I’ve always been interested in that (or at least have been interested since I first learned about it in college). Piranesi reveres and even worships the House. It could just be a lower-case house, a place where you live, but he elevates it to something more. The House. And it is suitable because of course it isn’t just any ordinary house. Oceans inside it, remember? Tides and sea creatures and birds. Giant statues. Bones of other people. The bones are another way Piranesi turned the profane into the sacred. He tends to the bones as best he can, keeping them clean and in order and all the bones with its respective body. He talks to them so they don’t feel alone. He has somewhat deified them. 

The whole narrative structure is not just the vehicle or container for the story. It is a major part of the story itself. When it first starts and is entirely dreamlike and drifting, it helps readers know how to feel without telling them. Then when we start to get glimpses of other places and people outside of the House, that’s the dream turning, the point where you would either wake up or the dream shifts into something else. 

There’s also maybe some commentary on academic exploitation. The Other, whose name is Ketterley, would fit right in with a dark academia novel. He’s obsessed with this Great and Secret Knowledge, and is willing to do anything and use anyone to get whatever it is he thinks he’s looking for. That’s a big contrast as well between him and Piranesi. Ketterley will exploit the House and Piranesi, whereas Piranesi cherishes the House and Ketterley. Ketterley and his whole thing is a sharp reminder about what can result when you have intense curiosity (yay!) that is divorced from compassion (oh no!). 

Spoilers below the cut!

Continue reading “Piranesi by Susanna Clarke: A Beautifully Confusing Read” →
book review · books

A Review of The Castle of Otranto: Insights into the First Gothic Novel

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The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole Genre: Gothic, classics I read it as a(n): pb Length: 117  Her Grace’s rating: 4 stars

Generally considered to be the very first Gothic story, The Castle of Otranto is centered on Lord Manfred, his wife Hippolyta, his daughter Matilda, and his son’s fiancée Isabella. In the opening scenes, Manfred’s son, Conrad, gets smashed to a pulp by a giant metal helmet that seemed to come flying out of thin air when he was on his way to the church to marry Isabella. This, friends, is foreshadowing! Events proceed from there, with a family curse, a nefarious plot, a hidden nobleman, a random but handsome stranger from another town, and a salty monk bringing the action along with them.

One of the first things I noticed, and was surprised about, was how funny this story was! There are a couple of servants, Jaquez and Diego, who are like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. The lady’s maid, Bianca, is like all four of those men rolled into one. Or maybe she is channeling her inner Lwaxana Troi. Either way, she’s hilarious. There were several spots where just the writing and narration itself made me laugh out loud as well. Walpole occasionally broke the fourth wall but good.  

There was also a very heavy implication that nobility is a blood- or birthright. Considering that Walpole was himself a nobleman, that makes sense. It was a little on-the-nose in some parts, but I feel like Walpole was making a deliberate commentary about nobility. The idea running throughout the story is that nobility is inherent, not something one can inherit with titles or take through force. We see this played out in full force with Theodore and Manfred. Theo started out as a peasant in the story but through his actions and behaviors, showed that he was more noble than Manfred. When Theo is revealed to actually be a nobleman, it reads like a confirmation of what we already knew more than an actual plot twist. It’s a big contrast to Manfred who has the titles and lands to back up his claim of nobility, but he’s cruel, paranoid, and basically unhinged. Just like a certain tangerine-colored politician. Example of how life imitates art! 

The way the women fit into nobility is also interesting, if frustrating on occasion. Hippolyta is noble by birth and actions. Her nobility is closely tied to her loyalty, humility, and piety. But she goes way overboard with the whole obedience thing and eventually her virtues are tied so closely with submission that they actually become the problem. She is a very virtuous doormat. Matilda is also virtuous and noble, and her compassion bears that out. She forgives and is empathetic even to people who wrong her. But since this is a Proper Gothic Story, there’s a lot of fatalism and in the end, Matilda’s virtues are not enough to save her. 

I think Isabella is the most interesting. She is virtuous and everything a woman was expected to be at that time, but she also has a spine. She tells Manfred to fuck off when he wants to marry her, she always tries to protect other people, she chooses to be noble as well as being noble by birth. She also tries to save herself by getting the hell out of the castle and pelting to the monastery where she can claim sanctuary and avoid Manfred. She and Theo would make a great match, if that were part of the plot. 

Overall, this was a fast and fun read, the first real Gothic story, and definitely one I recommend to anyone who is into that. 

Some of my favorite lines:

“I fear no bad angel, and have offended no good one” (30).

“He tells you he is in love, or unhappy, it is the same thing” (41).

“Since mirth is not your mood, let us be sad” (64). 

“A good Knight cannot go to the grave with more satisfaction than when falling in his vocation: whatever is the will of heaven, I submit” (66).

“He sighed, and retired, but with eyes fixed on the gate, until Matilda, closing it, put an end to an interview, in which the hearts of both had drunk so deeply of a passion, which both now tasted for the first time” (72).

“I can forget injuries, but never benefits” (95).

book review · books · historical fiction

Carmilla: The Sapphic Vampire Classic

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Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu
Genre: horror/Gothic/Classics
I read it as a(n): e-book
Length: 108 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 3.5 stars
2025 Reading Challenge tasks:
Her Grace’s: #10 – A book that was adapted to screen
TND: #9 – Author starting with J; #48 – Under 250 pages
PS: #39 – A classic you never read (I guess technically, I read it in college but I definitely didn’t pay attention to it then)

Predating Stoker’s Dracula by about 25 years, Carmilla is the Gothic Sapphic story you are looking for. Though by no means the oldest vampire story (that honor falls to Sekhmet from Ancient Egypt, circa 1500 BCE), Le Fanu’s novella highlights many of the now-familiar tropes within the vampire canon. Mysterious, highly attractive stranger? Check. Dark and spooky castle/forest/chateau/moors setting? Check. Weirdly incestuous vibes? Shuddercheck! Homoerotic fixation? Double check! 

Le Fanu opens his story with the narrator (her name is Laura but we don’t know that until about halfway through the story) reminiscing about a past experience that has haunted – literally and figuratively – her life ever since. The story is told in snapshots of memory as though written in a letter or diary format. Or as if we are sitting with Laura and she is telling the story to us. In any case, the format of the storytelling adds to the atmospheric setting overall. 

Laura is a young girl when she first meets Carmilla, or so it is implied. She seems to meet her in a dream, though as we read, it seems more likely that Carmilla found her in real life and had somehow marked her as her own. When they meet several years later, the intensity of the connection between Laura and Carmilla reads, at times, like long-lost friends as much as lovers. And there were a LOT of Sapphic vibes throughout this short book. Laura finds herself struck dumb more than once at Carmilla’s beauty, though savvy modern folks know that’s just what vampires do. They charm us. See? 

@kwasikao

song: kwasi kao – cupid’s arrow #vampire #blackgoth #alternative #melanin #love #fyp

♬ cupid’s arrow – kwasi kao

But seriously, that guy could charm me all he wants. 

Anyway. Carmilla’s victims that we know about are all young women or children who are young enough to still be fairly androgynous. That part is super creepy. Also creepy are the incestuous vibes when the General talks about his ward, who he views as his daughter, and who was unfortunately one of Carmilla’s victims. That’s a common vampire trope, so it isn’t out of the ordinary here, except when we consider that this is one of the earlier vampire stories we have and it was written in the Victorian Era, that period of supremely repressed sexual desire and general moral chucklefuckery. 

I decided to read Carmilla because I am reviewing a retelling of it for the Historical Novels Society and wanted a refresher. I’ll post that review once it goes live on the HNS site. For now, I am glad that I reread Carmilla; it is easy enough reading, once you get used to the very long sentences, and short enough to read in one sitting. 

book review

Navigating Teenage Girls’ Growth: Insights from Untangled

kristen4 Comments

Untangled: Guiding Teenage GIrls through the Seven Transitions into Adulthood by Lisa Damour, Ph.D.
Genre: nonfiction/sociology
I read it as a(n): paperback
Length: 343 pp 
Her Grace’s rating: 4 stars
2025 Reading Challenge tasks:
Her Grace’s: #8 – a nonfiction about an -ology
TND: #10 – The title is red; #42 – Wish you had read when you were younger 

As the title suggests, Untangled is a guide for parents of teenage girls. It breaks down, clearly and logically, the major phases of life the author, who is a practicing clinical psychologist, has identified that teen girls go through. Each section discusses the unique phase in depth as well as includes some case studies and examples. It also has suggestions for ways to approach topics, how to handle difficult conversations, and when you should legitimately worry and seek outside help. 

I enjoyed Damour’s writing style. I found her approach to be supportive and encouraging – and honestly hilarious at times! The humor was welcome, because teenage years are horrific and if you don’t look for the humor in it all, then you’re going to end up rocking in a corner somewhere. 

Part of the reason I picked this book up in the first place is that it seems like most psychology books for parents of teens deal with the Generic Teenager. Others deal specifically with Teenage Boys. Finding books about Teenage Girls are fewer and farther between. It’s an important distinction because, yes, teens do have some of the same weirdnesses across genders, such as the way the brain restructures itself from the primitive lizard brain first to the frontal cortex (where logic lives) at the very last. But many other experiences are unique to girls, their biology, and the way they process emotions and thoughts. Having a resource specific to teen girls is super important and I, at least, found it really insightful.

I would definitely recommend this if you have a teen or soon-to-be teen girl. I wish I had read this book years ago, before my girl turned into a teen. Honestly, ever since she hit 13, this song has been playing in my head on repeat.

book review

A Journey in Eventing: Review of Ambition by Natalie Keller Reinert

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Ambition by Natalie Keller Reinert
Genre: contemporary fiction
I read it as a(n): paperback
Length: 358 pp
Her Grace’s rating: 4 stars
2025 Reading Challenge tasks:
Her Grace’s: #9 – Passes the Bechdel Test
TND: #17 – Animal on the cover; #34 – Starts with A or L
PS: #10 – You got it for free; #30 – Reminds you of your childhood

A few months ago, I was jonesing to read some adult horse novels. The one I read was atrocious and it made me a) definitely dumber than before I read it and b) turned me off to adult horse books in general in case they were all like that. As if horses and women can only go together in terms of vapidity and unrealistic romance. 

Then I saw reviews and recommendations for Natalie Keller Reinert’s eventing series and that it was an excellent overview of actual horse and eventing life. I decided to give it a try and am very glad I did. There was a little romance, but it was seriously like 10% of the story. The rest of the story focused on the protagonist, Jules Thornton, and her attempts to break into the upper levels of eventing while also trying to train other people’s horses AND keep her own barely-functioning farm afloat. 

Her own horse, Dynamo, has a big heart and he loves Jules as much as she loves him, but he is not talented enough to take her as far as she wants to go in competition. So Jules is thrilled when she signs on a new horse to board and train, Mickey, who is everything an eventing horse should be. Except that he’s crazy and traumatized. 

I did really enjoy this novel, enough that I placed the next one in the series on hold at my local library. It gave a good look into the actual work that goes into training horses at a very high level, some history of eventing, and the dangers involved. It is funny to me now, as an adult, to remember the horse crazy little girl I was who thought I would get to be on the US Olympic Equestrian team, despite not having remotely close to the money needed for such a sport and also the fact that my horse was too small and an entire coward. 

I definitely recommend this book if you have a love of horses and eventing, though I think if you aren’t familiar with that, or English style riding in general, it could be a bit confusing as some of the terms are not defined in context. 

book review

Exploring Themes in The Shadowed Land by Signe Pike

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The Shadowed Land by Signe Pike
Genre: historical fantasy
I read it as a(n): audiobook
Narrator: Eilidh Beaton, Toni Frutin, Gary Furlong, Angus King, and Siobhan Waring
Length: 11:48:00 
Her Grace’s rating: 3.5 stars
2025 Reading Challenge tasks:
Her Grace’s: #15 – a retelling (Arthurian legend); #24 – Three or more point-of-view characters 
TND: #5 – Green on the cover; #30 – An author you love 
PS: #19 – Highly anticipated for 2025; #32 – An overlooked woman in history

The highly anticipated third installation of Signe Pike’s Arthurian retelling, The Shadowed Land, focuses on the reunion of Languoreth, Lailoken, and Angharad, Languoreth’s long-lost daughter. Everyone thought Angharad had died in a battle nine years before as no one could find her afterwards. She was, however, living with the Picts. Traveling with them is the warrior Artur Mac Aeden, who eventually gets summoned back to his father’s home in Dalriada, Languoreth and Lailoken go back to Strathclyde with the odious priest Mungo, and Angharad goes back to the Picts to try to convince the Druid Briochan to take her on as an apprentice. 

Maybe I just forgot some things since it was so long between book 2 and this book (I think it was at least 3 years since the previous book, The Forgotten Kingdom, was released). But it felt like a whole lot of nothing much happened. Partly, I think my reading was a bit tainted because I thought this was going to be the final book in a trilogy but then I read that it is now a series and at least one more book is planned. That honestly kind of killed most of the anticipation I had felt leading up to this book. Why does everything have to be a fucking series? Can’t anything stop at just a trilogy anymore? Or even just a single book? One book, one story. I get so sick of reading never-ending series. Most of them now just feel like selling out to make more money.

I also have no idea why we suddenly got Gladys, Languoreth’s elder daughter, as a POV character. She seemed to have zero purpose in the overarching plot. I listened to this as an audiobook and whoever they got to narrate her* was also super obnoxious. I hated her and I will never intentionally listen to any book she narrates. I don’t know how much, if any, input authors have into who is cast for their audiobook narrators, but if Pike has any say in it, I truly hope she tells them to find someone else next time. 

I did really like that there was a lot of focus on the Picts in this book. I don’t remember there being as much about them in the previous two books. I have always been intrigued by them, and we know so little about them, that it is fun to find a book that has Picts as main characters. I don’t have the print edition of this book yet – waiting for the paperback edition – but when I get that, I hope it has a little bibliography so I can check out some of the books myself. I love it when authors include a bib in their books, even if it is in no way all of the things they, themselves, read while researching. 

I also liked that there seemed to be a theme of self-discovery throughout. Each POV character, except Gladys, learned or discovered things about themselves that made them a more complete, complex character. I think it was nicely done on Pike’s part, as it showed growth that people just acquire as they age and engage in self-reflection. 

Overall, I still liked the book, but I frequently tuned out and was disappointed that it felt more like a filler or placeholder to the next book in the now-series. I wish it had stayed as a trilogy as originally planned.

*Eilidh Beaton narrates Gladys’s voice. Process of elimination by listening to samples on Audible, yay. Now she is on my Do Not Listen to This Narrator list.