A Young Soul Maturing during Another Summer in the North Woods on the Big Lake Book Review

Full disclosure: The author of the book that I am about to review is a patron at a library that I work at. All of the opinions stated in this review are solely mine.

Over a year ago, I reviewed The Tale of the Red Fox in the North WoodsRobert C. Jones’s first book written for a younger audience. It seems like Jones got enough positive reviews on it that he decided to create another title with a similar age range in mind. This became A Young Soul Maturing during Another Summer in the North Woods on the Big Lake. It’s a coming-of-age tale that doesn’t always work, but what is effective really is.

A Young Soul Maturing during Another Summer in the North Woods on the Big Lake is about a summer Bobby spends at his aunt and uncle’s resort in the North Woods. Bobby comes back to the North Woods and encounters old and new friends, strange new characters, and his aunt and uncle. Problems arise when unknown individuals disrupt his story. Bobby confronts the issues of trust, bullying, and social/emotional conflicts with them. At his young age, he learns that adults have and keep secrets, and sometimes help can come from the most unexpected places. At the end of visit, he is regarded as more grown up.

Like The Tale of the Red Fox, Jones wanted to target children of a certain age with A Young Soul. This time, it has mixed results. I liked Addendum A, which provides the recipe for Aunty’s Peach Cherry Cobbler with Sweet Biscuit Topping. Aunty makes that in the book, which represents a sense of normalcy in the midst of chaos that Bobby experiences. Even though I wish Jones had included exact measurements, I understand that recipes from an earlier time didn’t do that, so it feels authentic. I still have to make that cobbler at some point. In addition, I love the Postscript, which discusses the presence of migrant workers in Northern Michigan. Bobby befriends a 12-year-old worker named Daniel Ortez. Migrants play a big role in the story because the hospital being built is on land that they’re working on, and they are portrayed realistically. The postscript reminded me of the ones I used to see in American Girl and Dear America series.

On the other hand, I wish there was a set of book club questions that addressed certain plot elements. A lot happens to Bobby in this book like him having funny feelings towards the girl who dives off the local bridge, an intruder coming into the cabin that Aunty and Uncle reside in, and the realization that adults have and keep secrets. Luckily, Jones does include one question, which is “Do you the reader have a secret you should share with a person close to you?” 

This is definitely intended for an upper elementary/middle school audience because of the vocabulary and the amounts of violence. I’m not kidding about the latter. People get injured and murdered in gruesome ways throughout the book. There are some mentions of violent acts in The Tale of the Red Fox, but A Young Soul raises the stakes in that regard. Even one of the black-and-white illustrations depicts a man getting shot in the shoulder. Jones mentions that it’s based on a true story, yet I have to wonder if the violence actually happened in the way that it did because it felt so visceral.

Since Jones wanted to educate kids about what it was like decades ago, he had to explain certain things. There are times where it’s well done. For example, Jones defines what a fruit cellar is when Bobby has to go down there to grab items for Aunty. On the other hand, they are sometimes awkwardly inserted. To some readers, they may come off as patronizing. For instance, a person literally describes what a peeping tom is in his journal, and I had to scratch my head over that. 

Finally, I have to talk about the story. A Young Soul is more of a coming-of-age tale than The Tale of the Red Fox was. Bobby has a big realization among adults and musters up the courage to do things that earn him respect in the community. It all plays out in a way that readers will know and possibly predict. However, I like the ending, in which Bobby makes an important choice regarding what he learned about adults. The main plot surrounds people getting injured and murdered while a new hospital is being built. Because this is a coming-of-age story, it makes sense to have more mature content. I also want to point out that the perpetrator is wonderfully evil. He explains his entire backstory in a diary that’s featured in one and a half chapters of this book. I loved how far he’s willing to go to achieve what he wants. Because of this villain, it does elevate A Young Soul from being another by-the-numbers coming-of-age story.

A Young Soul Maturing during Another Summer in the North Woods on the Big Lake by Robert C. Jones is another coming-of-age story. However, it tackles a lot of big issues from migrant workers to a sad realization about adults, which were well handled. Does everything work? No, but what does work really does, especially the obviously evil villain. It’s basically everything that one could expect from Jones after reading The Tale of the Red Fox in the North Woods with the stakes raised. I would recommend it for 9-13 year olds, especially if they like coming-of-age stories and truly heinous baddies, and their grandparents who want to relive their younger days and love Jones’s other books. I’m curious to see how Jones continues with the “North Woods” series.

Stay tuned for next week when I reveal my Top 3 Best and Worst Books* of 2024! See you then. In the meantime, Merry Christmas!

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Adapt Me Podcast – Nightbitch Movie

Hi Everybody!

Grab your buttered-up popcorn and some raw meat because returning guest Carl Malek and I start a new subseries “His/Her Reviews” on the Adapt Me Podcast. In our inaugural episode, we discuss the movie adaptation of “Nightbitch” in all of its glory. Check it out at this link.

In the meantime, you can see my review of Nightbitch the movie here.

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Nightbitch Movie Review

Content warning: this review contains spoilers.

After eight months of waiting, I finally had the opportunity to watch Nightbitch starring Amy Adams and directed by Marielle Heller on the big screen last week. Now reader, you’re probably wondering how I feel about this film adaptation of the book of the same name by Rachel Yoder. Well, it was fine. It contained good elements, but on a whole, it could have gone further with its premise.

In my review of Nightbitch the book, I was hesitant to give out many of the plot points due to fear of spoiling them. I don’t have to worry about that now since the movie is not a direct adaptation. Both contain the same plot and major beats, but they contrast quite a lot in some ways. For example, the novel contains a subplot, in which Mother (played by Amy Adams) tries to find Wanda White – the author who wrote the book about the mythological powers of mothers, so she can ask her about motherhood. In the film, Norma the librarian (played by cult actress Jessica Harper) gives the title in question to Mother. Then, the main character tries to talk to Norma for the same reason. 

Another major contrast between the book and the movie is how certain relationships were expanded. For starters, Mother barely has a relationship with her mom in the book because of how distant the latter is. In the film, it’s revealed that she is a Mennonite who died long before the events involving Mother. Various flashbacks revealed how much Mother’s mother was loving, but needed some time away. As a child, Mother encountered her mom out in the woods running like a dog. Afterwards, the latter assured the former that she will always come back. The core conflict of both is how Mother wants to find someone who could tell her the secret of being a good and balanced mother, so this certainly brings out more of the dynamics between her and her own mom.

Another example is in the relationship between Mother and her husband (played by Scoot McNairy). In the novel, he is essentially aloof due to his work. This doesn’t make him a bad parent, yet this reasonably frustrates Mother. Once she finally gets to express all of her feelings to him about being a stay-at-home mom, he magically gets it, which I felt was too neat. In the film version, the husband is portrayed more sympathetically, and the relationship is more complicated. They both wonder where the other has been, and during the second half, they separate. This leads to a scene, in which the husband gets to experience what it’s like to raise their toddler son by himself. It’s at the end when Mother is displaying her art exhibition that he realizes what she has gone through. Because of the more time spent with the husband, his discovery and willingness to help her out feels more earned in the movie than in the book.

One final difference is the tone. The book is a horror satire. Lots of gruesome things happen. It put me on edge because I wasn’t sure what was going to occur next. On the other hand, the movie is more like a typical horror comedy. It does well with the latter. I enjoyed watching the scenes, in which Mother tries to raise her son by herself. She obviously feels frustrated, but it still made me laugh because of how relatable it could be. This is especially true with the out-of-control fingerpainting scene. However, the horror was lacking. Since the book leaned into the darker elements of the premise, I wanted the film to do something similar because it was so chaste. I mean, it’s a story about a woman who thinks she’s turning into a dog, but it doesn’t fully commit to that. I get that some of the more ghastly parts of the book wouldn’t fly with a regular audience, so I understand why Heller sanitized it to some degree, particularly the scene involving the family cat (side note: my husband was terrified by that bit, so props to her for still making it scary.) The parts leading up to the canine transformation are handled decently, but when Mother finally changes into that animal, it’s done in a few shots. I would have preferred to spend more time on that like in the way The Wolf Man movies focused on Larry Talbot turning into that monster. It all felt neutered.

Another thing that bothered me about the movie that was actually in the book was its heavy-handed messaging. Both deal with the violent nature of motherhood and how mothers should find ways that naturally let out their rage. These ideas are shoved down audiences’ throats through Amy Adams’s monologues and narration throughout the film. I felt the visuals and the ending communicated that well without any dialogue. But, I bet Heller wanted to reach out to a wide audience, so she had to make the messaging extremely clear for everybody to understand. Yoder did something similar at the end of the novel, which made me roll my eyes as much as I did while watching the adaptation.

Despite my grievances with the movie, there’s one other thing that works, and that’s the acting. The actors in this are good. They play their roles well given the material, but there were clear standouts. The first is Scoot McNairy. As mentioned earlier, his portrayal of the husband is sympathetic. He genuinely doesn’t get what Mother is going through, but this comes out of ignorance. He can come off as a prick at times, but an unintentional one. When the husband finally realizes the suffering that Mother has endured by essentially their son by herself, McNairy conveys this quite naturally and sincerely.

Now of course, I have to talk about the main draw of this movie: six-time Oscar nominee Amy Adams. She is great in Nightbitch. Her strengths as an actress are her quiet femininity and how she conveys internal brooding. Both are on display in this flick from the beginning to the very end. I love how Adams paces herself as the rage grows inside of her character. She starts off as being able to mask her true emotions as she talks with other people, but slowly, that mask falls off. It helps that the editing lets audience members know when she’s masking and when she’s not, especially in the beginning. Moreover, Adams is absolutely convincing when she’s turning into a dog. She’s got the paranoia down and fully commits to the canine bits. Will Nightbitch get her 7th Oscar nomination? I’m not entirely sure, considering the mixed-to-positive reviews of the film, but it’s still early in the award season. Anything can happen.

Nightbitch is a neutered version of the book by Rachel Yoder. While it’s good with expanding certain relationships from the novel, and the acting is wonderful, it fails to capture the darker spirit of the source material. One would think that a story about a woman turning into a dog as allegory to the struggles of motherhood would be completely bonkers, but this isn’t. It doesn’t fully commit to the horror and fantastical elements. In spite of these, I would still recommend it to mothers of all kinds since it does communicate the struggles of motherhood well as well as to those who love Amy Adams. Other than those groups, stick to the book.

Before I go, I want to let everyone know that I have recorded the latest episode of the Adapt Me Podcast. My husband and I debut a new subseries called His/Her Reviews. In it, we talk about adaptations of books we just watched. And yes, we discussed Nightbitch the movie. Keep an eye out for the link.

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Grimmer Revisionist Fairy Tales, Fables, and Nursery Rhymes Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given an ARC of this book from Stress Free Book Marketing in exchange for an honest review.

Content warning: this book review mentions drug use and eating disorders.

Like many people, I grew up with fairy tales, fables, and nursery rhymes. I heard these stories so much that I actually want them to be subverted in some ways. Fortunately, I read a book recently that did just that. It’s called Grimmer Revisionist Fairy Tales, Fables, and Nursery Rhymes by Marissa Carter, and it’s a wonderful send up of those tales that’s primarily for adults. 

 Grimmer Revisionist Fairy Tales, Fables, and Nursery Rhymes is exactly what one would expect while looking at a title like this. It’s the tales that one read as a kid, but with modern twists, witty jokes, and a bit of cheeky irreverence. They may start off sweet, but they’ll get mischievous, take left turns, and transform into a different story. This ain’t your childhood fairy tale collection, and that’s what makes it fun.

This anthology wasn’t kidding when it said that the beloved stories were going to take interesting directions. They veer off in some off-the-wall ways. For example, in Rapunzel, one would think that it would end with Rapunzel and the prince getting married and living happily ever after. In this version, without spoiling too much, I can say that it involves some pretty wacky stuff. I never knew where the stories would go, which made them all the more entertaining. 

Also, I enjoyed how the collection addressed society’s tendencies to over analyze the story elements and morals as well as to modernize the tales in ways that don’t always make sense. Each of the stories tackles these in extremely funny ways. For instance, the commentary on the nursery rhyme There’s Once Was An Old Lady in a Shoe involves how the old lady and her children are able to live in a shoe, or if it was a shoe in the first place. Later on, the nursery rhyme Tom the Piper’s Son – one that I’m actually not familiar with – gets political commentary from Mao Tse Tung, Joseph Stalin, Winston Churchill, and Richard Nixon. The dialogue is straight out of a Monty Python sketch.

This anthology is no doubt influenced by Shrek, yet I noticed some South Park elements in them too. In Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Goldilocks is said to have watched all the episodes of CSI and have bulimia. I’m convinced that Eric Cartman wrote that one. Also, in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Snow White has a cocaine problem, and one of the dwarves is named Horny. It makes me wonder why South Park didn’t do a send-up on famous fairy tales like The Simpsons and Family Guy did, but then again, South Park is not your traditional cartoon for adults.

My favorite stories in the anthology are Chicken Little, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, and Three Little Pigs. I love how everything in Chicken Little gets over analyzed to the umpteenth degree, which captures the spirit of a tale involving the sky falling. In Snow White, they give the real reason how Snow White got her name, and it made me laugh very hard. Plus, I enjoyed how the evil queen would smash the mirror anytime it revealed that Snow White was still alive. Three Little Pigs had the wolf eating the pigs whose houses he blew down, which makes me wonder why he didn’t do that in previous retellings. Also, the punch line was fabulous. 

Does every joke work? No. For example, in Chicken Little, there’s a quip about how Ducky Lucky studied at Donald Duck University, and it shouldn’t be confused for McDonald’s Hamburger University. Those are two very distinct intellectual properties that no average person would ever have a hard time identifying. Regardless, many of the jokes land with flying colors including the ones referenced in the paragraph above.

 Grimmer Revisionist Fairy Tales, Fables, and Nursery Rhymes by Marissa Carter is a funny send-up on everyone’s favorite childhood tales. It goes in directions that no one would really expect, and it makes fun of people who over analyze and try to modernize the timeless tales. This isn’t for children as it has some mature content. I would recommend this to adults who have a twisted sense of humor as well as love Shrek; South Park; and above all, fairy tales, fables, and nursery rhymes. Get this book, and one will live in their own version of happily ever after.

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The Doctors We Need: Imagining a New Path for Physician Recruitment, Training, and Support Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given a free advance reader copy of this book by Sasha Stolz Publicity in exchange for an honest review.

Even though I’m not in the medical field, I find it fascinating, especially how doctors navigate through it while taking care of their patients. Within the last two years, I’ve read three stories about doctors and their tales regarding their practices. These were Open for Interpretation: A Doctor’s Journey into Astrology by Alicia Blando, MD, Box of Birds: What New Zealand Taught Me about Life and the Practice of Medicine by Stephen Stowers, M.D., and Stress Test by Kay White Drew. Today, I’ll add a new book to that list: The Doctors We Need: Imagining a New Path for Physician Recruitment, Training, and Support by Anthony Sanfilippo, MD. This book addresses the “family doctor crisis” in Canada. Although I’m not Canadian and have no experiences with their medical system, I found this title to be an interesting look at the problem of not having enough doctors practicing family medicine.

The Doctors We Need: Imagining a New Path for Physician Recruitment, Training, and Support confronts the issue of the lack of family doctors. Despite Canada’s pledge to universal healthcare, over 6 million people lack a family doctor. This problem persists in spite of the investments in medical education and institutions. Dr. Sanfilippo addresses how the legacy processes for recruiting, educating, and promoting specialization in medicine have failed to adapt the basic healthcare needs any Canadian should expect. He offers real-life accounts when discussing the impact of outdated selection and training methods on doctor shortages, how the system lacks crucial oversight, and why current approaches fail to produce doctors with diverse skills needed today. In addition, he presents solutions that are more than just band-aids. This book provides a blueprint for transforming the medical system that can truly serve all Canadians.

Despite the fact that I have no experiences with Canadian medicine, it acknowledges problems that I’ve come across in the other medical-related books mentioned earlier. This is especially true with the conflict of profit/paperwork over patient care. Sanfilippo acknowledges that even if a person has a family doctor, they still have trouble finding a meaningful relationship with them, specifically if the physicians spend a good chunk of their time typing out the patients’ problems on a computer and the “one problem per visit” mentality. This shows that the American and Canadian medical systems have similar issues.

It also makes me grateful to have a primary care physician. I’m able to email her when I have questions regarding my health. She’s good at giving medical advice as a doctor should be. At the same time, it’s still an impersonal relationship since she comes and goes. This is the kind of problem Sanfilippo is referring to.

Despite the family doctor shortage, Sanfilippo offers reasonable solutions in the later chapters. These include “developing standards for admission that are relevant to modern medical practice,” designing programs to prepare learners for that kind of career, being realistic of about what it is and what it isn’t, and expanding “the admission process to attract and welcome individuals who have had some personal experience in other fields of health care” (p.130, 132, 135, and 140).

I am absolutely all for these answers, especially the fourth one. There are plenty of people who have plenty of experience working in the medical field, but for reasons like cost, disabilities, and other circumstances, they choose not to go to medical school. 

On top of that, Sanfilippo backs up his arguments with footnotes from credible articles and uses regular language to convey what he wants to say. While I had a hard time connecting with the material, he did a good job with communicating his thoughts. After all, he knows what he’s talking about since he is a cardiologist and former Associate Dean of Medical Education at Queen’s University.

The best parts of this book are the stories of real-patients and doctors. They paint realistic and diverse situations that exemplify what Sanfilippo talks about. For example, to illustrate the issue of not enough primary care physicians in Canada, Sanfilippo tells the story of Rachel. She always wanted to be a family doctor, and she proved to be a highly capable and dedicated one. But when she was looking to go on maternity leave, she couldn’t find other physicians to take on her patients. As a result, she left the practice and started working temporarily replacing those on leave or on vacation (p.17-21). These stories serve to describe the depth of the problems faced by the small number of primary care doctors and how the system must change to better address the needs of today’s patients.

The Doctors We Need: Imagining a New Path for Physician Recruitment, Training, and Support by Anthony Sanfilippo, MD is a good book that takes a hard look at the lack of family doctors in Canada. It offers clear-eyed views on how the issue became what it is and reasonable solutions. Also, it cites credible sources as well as uses regular jargon and real-life stories to get various messages across. It’s definitely one of those titles that works the best if the reader is familiar with the Canadian medical system. Even though I’m not, I still found plenty of things to admire about it. The Doctors We Need: Imagining a New Path for Physician Recruitment, Training, and Support will be out Tuesday, December 3, so go grab it wherever you get your books.

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Daughters of Bronze: A Novel of Troy Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given a free eARC copy of this book by Dutton Marketing and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Since I published my review of The Shadow of Perseus by Claire Heywood, I’ve read plenty of retellings of Greek mythology. I have always enjoyed that subject ever since I took a mythology class in high school. One of the things that we did was read parts of The Iliad by Homer – the epic story about the Trojan War. It was quite enlightening. A tale like that deserves plenty of retellings, including today’s subject Daughters of Bronze: A Novel of Troy by A.D. Rhine (the pseudonym of authors Ashlee Cowles and Danielle Stinson). It’s a wonderful feminist take on the classic epic with its theatricality, understanding of Greek mythology, and the female characters that are brought to the forefront.

Daughters of Bronze: A Novel of Troy follows four women in the midst of the Trojan War. Andromache the Amazon has proven herself to be a capable leader, but can she maintain that status now that she’s the mother to the city’s long-awaited heir? She must bring together a divided city in time to make a final stand. Rhea is a Trojan spy, but she never expected to find love behind enemy lines. When the final battle lines are drawn, she must decide where her loyalties lie and how much she’s willing to lose. Helen is no longer the broken woman Paris took to Troy. She must cast off her shroud of grief and use her healing gifts to save Troy’s greatest hope. Cassandra has seen Troy’s fate. However, she knows that the truth is only as valuable as the person who tells it, and only a few in Troy value her. All that is about to change. One hero will rise, and another will fall, and Cassandra will have her say. All four shed unexpected light on the legend of Troy.

This novel is actually the second book in the duology that began with Horses of Fire. I didn’t realize this while reading it, but one can still read it as a stand alone.

One of the things that stood out to me was its theatricality. It’s rightfully dramatic because the story is based on one of the most famous legends of all time. The stakes are high since it takes place during a war; therefore, the reactions and emotions are going to be heightened. For example, much of The Iliad and Daughters of Bronze lead up to the fight between Hector – Andromache’s husband – and Achilles. For those who have read both, Andromache has a perfectly reasonable reaction to Hector’s fate. It also paid tribute to the spirit of ancient Greek theatre not only with the heightened emotions, but also with the intent. The purpose of theatre in ancient Greek times was to show both sides of an issue. For instance, when Hector is looking to go and fight Achilles, Andromache tries to dissuade him since she has just as much of a say in what happens in Troy as much as the heir to the Trojan throne. He counteracts this with his own reasons.

Moreover, Cowles and Stinson have a great understanding of Greek mythology. They clearly did a lot of research while making this and Horses of Fire that they were able to infuse it naturally in the story. For example, there were moments, in which Cassandra was sitting in a bathtub while the characters were strategizing, and I immediately thought, “That’s not foreshadowing her demise. NO! Not all!”

Furthermore, the authors use their knowledge to explore certain underlying elements. Even though the gods don’t play a major role in the novel, many of the characters invoke them in a general sense since the Achaens believed in how they controlled fate. At the same time, many, especially Cassandra, are also aware that they have a say in their destinies. 

And of course, I would be doing a disservice if I didn’t mention the characters in this book. The Iliad featured moments of character development from various women so much so that scholars have postulated that Homer was a woman. This carries over to Daughters of Bronze since the women are fantastically developed. Each has their own motivations. Andromache wants to prove her leadership now that she’s a mother. Rhea desires a sense of belonging while with Ajax. Helen strives to make it known that she has more strength than people realize, and Cassandra wants people to believe her visions. In addition, I love how they work with each other and how their relationships change during the course of the novel. While these characters were great, my favorite was Cassandra. She has a gift for seeing into the future, yet rarely anybody believes her. Luckily, our protagonists do even if it means death and destruction for Troy. Cassandra even provokes Andromache’s ire when she puts her son in danger.

Daughters of Bronze: A Novel of Troy by A.D. Rhine is a wonderful retelling of The Iliad from a feminist perspective. I love how dramatic it is given the source material and how the authors understood Greek mythology. Most importantly, Andromache, Rhea, Helen, and Cassandra are fantastically fleshed out characters, and I enjoyed seeing them interact with each other. It’s no surprise that it’s been getting rave reviews from various readers. I would recommend it for those who love Greek mythology, feminist versions of famous tales, and reading about the Trojan War and the legend of Troy. Daughters of Bronze: A Novel of Troy will be out Tuesday, November 26, so go grab it wherever you get your books.

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The Nutcracker Chronicles: A Fairytale Memoir Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given a copy of this book by BooksForward in exchange for an honest review.

Christmas is coming soon, and that means more Nutcracker-related content! Last year, I reviewed The Kingdom of Sweets by Erika Johansen – a novel inspired by both the ballet and the book Nutcracker and the Mouse King by E.T.A. Hoffman. This year, I’ll take a look at The Nutcracker Chronicles: A Fairytale Memoir by Janine Kovac – a memoir written by a former ballet dancer who participated in numerous performances of The Nutcracker ballet. It’s a great book detailing the author’s struggles in the ballet world while recounting her relationship with the famous story.

The Nutcracker Chronicles: A Fairytale Memoir provides a modern twist on the classic holiday ballet, intertwining the story of Clara and the prince with the true-life story that unfolded backstage. Janine Kovac was seven years old when she knew that she wanted to be a ballerina while watching her first performance of The Nutcracker. It wasn’t long before she herself was dancing the part of a snowflake; flower; mouse; soldier; and Fritz, Clara’s brother. This was all in search of the magic she felt only on the stage. She recounts her pursuits of an elusive dream that compels her to endure blistered toes, weekly weigh-ins, second-hand pointe shoes, and constant insults from her directors like why can’t you just dance like a pretty girl?

Over a twelve-year career, Janine danced with ballet companies in San Francisco, Seattle, Germany, Iceland, and Italy, returning home every holiday season to perform The Nutcracker with Ballet El Paso. Despite the challenges of the ballet world, Janine couldn’t resist the inner glow and effortlessness she feels on stage, under the lights, dancing to Tchaikovsky. This is when she feels beautiful.

I talked about my previous experiences with The Nutcracker ballet in my The Kingdom of Sweets review, so this memoir was right up my alley. For starters, the structure is inventive. It’s basically the ballet, but with Kovac’s personal story woven in it. Each chapter is a scene from the show, and she talks about her life and how it pertains to that particular part of the ballet. For example, in the chapter title “Chinese,” Kovac describes what her life was like during the initial Covid lockdown and how she – a Latina – dealt with the problematic elements of the ballet like the Chinese dance. The way that she weaves her story into the tale is effortless.

Kovac also paints a brutally realistic picture of what it’s like to be a professional ballet dancer. Throughout the memoir, she discusses how she struggled to make sure her appearance and weight were in line with what a ballerina should look like, especially as one with brown skin and just a few pounds heavier than what’s required. She also had to perform the precise steps at the right time all while being graceful. This was a challenge for her as well since she had coordination issues like always dancing to the left while the rest of the group moved to the right. I love to dance, but even I wouldn’t want to do it professionally. 

On top of that, she had to withstand insults hurled at her and other dancers by instructors, especially Ms. Heuser – the director of the El Paso Ballet Theatre at that time. Ms. Heuser had a reputation, for stories like how she danced for Hilter in Germany circulated. It’s easy to portray someone like Ms. Heuser as evil as the Mouse King, but Kovac doesn’t go that route. Her relationship with her instructor is far more complicated. Despite the insults she threw, Ms. Heuser also gave Kovac opportunities to dance in The Nutcracker and would always be there to pin the wigs just right. She even bestowed Kovac a bouquet of flowers at one point as a way of apologizing for not allowing her to dance in the “Waltz of the Flowers” scene.

The best part of this memoir is Janine herself. Readers can easily sympathize with her as she navigated the ballet world. She made friends and relationships, including the Prince Charming whom she would marry, but she also went through ordeals like the ones I mentioned earlier. This will make readers ask, “Why did she stay around even if she wasn’t getting the good roles?”

Janine has an answer for that: the power of the stage. Throughout the book, Kovac mentions how yearned to dance on the stage because that’s where she shines and feels the most beautiful. It didn’t matter if she’s playing Fritz, a soldier, a clown, a Dunce Flower (the name of one of the positions during the “Waltz of the Flowers” scene), etc. She wanted to perform, even when she was sort of living vicariously through her dancer husband and kids later on. I certainly felt that hunger as I read the memoir as I recalled the times when I was on the stage. It also didn’t matter if I didn’t know the kinds of moves that Janine had to execute as a ballet dancer. The point was that they were hard and required precision, elegance, and grace – things that she had to work on. And still, she wanted to do it to let her beauty shine.

The Nutcracker Chronicles: A Fairytale Memoir by Janine Kovac is a wonderful book to read during the holidays. This is especially true if one is going to see or be in a production of The Nutcracker. Janine is relatable as she yearns to be a ballet dancer, but she has a hard time making it in that world. Her conflicts, including the one with Ms. Heuser, are handled realistically and emphatically. While the ballet environment is portrayed in a brutally honest manner, Kovac still manages to maintain a sense of wonder as she hungers to be on the stage. In addition, the structure is unique with Janine’s story mirroring that of the one in The Nutcracker. Along with the audience I mentioned above, I would also recommend it to those who love to read about ballet or dance in general, who are current or former dancers, or anyone who loves consuming all Nutcracker-related stories. The Nutcracker Chronicles: A Fairytale Memoir is out now, so go grab it wherever you get your books.

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Remarkably Bright Creatures Book Review

Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt has undoubtedly become one of the most popular books to come out in the last two years. And, it’s not hard to see why. It had an octopus as one of the narrators. What other novel has a creature like that? I finally read it recently, and I enjoyed it, especially for its main characters.

Remarkably Bright Creatures is about a widow and her unlikely connection with a giant Pacific octopus. After her husband’s death, Tova Sullivan took up night shifts mopping floors and tidying up at the Sowell Bay Aquarium. Keeping busy has always been her way of coping, especially after her 18-year-old son Erik mysteriously disappeared on a boat in Puget Sound over 30 years ago. She becomes acquainted with Marcellus – a curmudgeonly giant Pacific octopus living at the aquarium. He knows more than anyone could imagine, but he wouldn’t lift any of his 8 arms for his human captors until he starts a friendship with Tova. Marcellus, ever the detective, deduces what happened the night of Erik’s vanishing, and he must use every trick his old invertebrate body can muster in order to discover the truth before it’s too late.

After reading it and discussing Remarkably Bright Creatures at a book club, I realized that it uses the blueprint mostly used by Fredrik Backman. Many of his novels are character studies and feature a cranky elderly person who finds a way to connect with others in the most unlikely of ways. Think of Ove and Britt-Marie. In this case, Remarkably Bright Creatures has Marcellus and Tova – an octopus who makes snarky comments on human attendees at the aquarium and a human who keeps her distance from others in order not to get hurt. It’s not the first book I reviewed that uses this structure, yet it still stands out with its main characters.

Let’s start with Tova. She is a 70-year-old widow who works at the local aquarium to keep herself busy. At first, Tova comes off as standoff-ish and wants things done in a certain way like lining the trash bins. She wants to be around people and not interact with them at the same time. This dynamic is seen whenever she’s with a group of friends that called themselves the Knit Wits. Once she begins bonding with Marcellus, she realizes that she enjoys having company and tries to make more of an effort to be more present. Tova sees Marcellus as incredibly smart – a trait that most humans fail to realize, for he’s able to escape from his area and retrieves items like keys from various places.

And there’s Marcellus. As I alluded to earlier, there hasn’t been a novel that features an octopus as a main character. He’s the best part of Remarkably Bright Creatures. His snarky, but endearing voice is absolutely memorable, and I love how Van Pelt starts his sections with the day number of his captivity. And at one point, he expresses that he’s had enough of counting the days that he’s been in the aquarium. When Marcellus begins his friendship with Tova, one can feel the sweet side of him coming out, as if he’s grown accustomed to her face. Marcellus brings out the open side of Tova so much he becomes desperate to solve the mystery involving her son Erik. The only thing I have to complain about with Marcellus is that for a book that’s heavily marketed on him, he’s not in it for all that much compared to Tova and the other main character Cameron.

One would probably notice from my summary that Cameron isn’t mentioned. I’ve read other blurbs for the book, and many of them fail to include him too. There’s a good reason for that. He’s kind of a spoiler. For those who haven’t read the novel yet, how he fits into the picture gets revealed by the end in a clever way. 

More importantly, there are some readers that don’t really like Cameron. I understand that. He’s a whiny deadbeat who’s still angry that his mom abandoned him when he was a child, and he’s 30 years old. I wasn’t bothered by him, for he’s supposed to be annoying. Readers are supposed to be irritated by him because he remains stagnant and doesn’t know his true potential. Also, since this is from Tova’s perspective, she sees him in that light at first. Overtime, she realizes that Cameron is more than that. On the other hand, I find it interesting that many of the positive reviews omit him. I get that too. He basically exists to show the opposite way of handling grief and as a contrast to that of Tova. In other words, the level at which one can enjoy this book depends on how one can tolerate Cameron.

I also listened to the audiobook, which is narrated by Marin Ireland and Michael Urie. Ireland is an actress who’s appeared in television shows like Law and Order; movies like Rachel Getting Married, Glass Chin, and The Irishman; and plays like Reasons to be Pretty, which earned her a Tony nomination. She has previously recorded audiobooks like Sleeping Beauties by Stephen and Owen King, Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr, Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson, and a handful of novels by Fredrik Backman. Ireland puts on a good performance. She voices Tova as an uptight, but sweet older lady, which becomes more relaxed as the novel progresses. Cameron is portrayed as whiny and immature. The rest of the male characters kind of sound the same, but the minor female ones have some distinctions. Cameron’s Aunt Jean has a chatty and coddling voice that’s straight out of a trailer park.

While Ireland is good, the real standout is Urie. Urie is an actor best known for his role as Marc St. James in the television show Ugly Betty. He has also been on Broadway in musicals like How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying as Bud Frump, Spamalot as Sir Robin, and Once Upon a Mattress as Prince Dauntless. He’s great as Marcellus. Urie puts in the right amount of snark and sincerity to make not only the octopus three-dimensional, but also the friendship with Tova believable. I was always looking forward to his sections because listening to him is a godsend. Marcellus was already a memorable character, and Urie brought him to life even more. Honestly, I wish Remarkably Bright Creatures could be adapted into a musical, so Urie could be cast as Marcellus and sing as the curmudgeonly octopus. 

Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt is a remarkable novel (yes, I finally had to say that word). It contains one of the memorable hooks for any book with Marcellus the octopus. On top of that, the friendship between him and Tova is so endearing. Of course, readers will have to put up with Cameron just like Tova does for most of the novel. I would recommend it to those who love reading about animals, friendships between them and humans, grief, and loss. And if one has the chance, listen to the audiobook; Michael Urie is great as Marcellus. 

Before I go, I want to let everyone know that I will be recording another episode of the Adapt Me Podcast this month. Jesse McAnally – co-host of The Cheese Wheel Podcast – and I will discuss how we would adapt this novel. Keep an eye out for the link.

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Committed: Startup Survival Tips and Uncommon Sense for First-Time Tech Founders Book Review

Full disclosure: I was given a free advance reader copy of this book by Sasha Stolz Publicity in exchange for an honest review.

Part of my job as a book reviewer is reading titles that I wouldn’t normally seek out. Some of these are books that appeal to a niche audience. However, I believe that even if a title is not for everyone, there’s still something that people can connect to, especially if it’s good. I’ve looked at books like Caterham Sevens: The Official Story of a Unique British Sportscar from Conception to CSR by Chris Rees in the past. Today, I’ll analyze another niche title, this one being Committed: Startup Survival Tips and Uncommon Sense for First-Time Tech Founders by Eldon Sprickerhoff. While it’s a manual that effectively appeals to a specific audience, general readers can find something in it too.

Committed: Startup Survival Tips and Uncommon Sense for First-Time Tech Founders gives advice for people looking to start a technical business written by a tech founder who has “walked the path.” Great tech simply isn’t enough, and many first-time technical founders don’t know what they don’t know. To them, most business books focused on startup strategies might seem inaccessible, outdated, and off-topic.

To that end, Eldon Sprickerhoff, cofounder of cybersecurity firm eSentire, has assembled a list of everything he didn’t know as a first-time technical startup founder before his firm rocketed to a valuation of over $1 billion, finding product-market fit, raising early- stage capital, competing against bigger and better-funded competitors, building resilience, pushing through failure—and dealing with success. In Committed, Sprickerhoff offers readers “survival strategies” that encourage technical founders to embrace their new title, the one that matters: Chief Survival Officer.

When I started reading Committed, one of my first thoughts was that it reminded me so much of Caterham Sevens: The Official Story of a Unique British Sportscar from Conception to CSR by Chris Rees. Obviously, these books tackle completely different topics, but they have two things in common: their target audiences are very specific, and they use jargon that appeals to those groups. With the former, Sprickerhoff’s readers are inspiring technology founders, while the latter appeals to car enthusiasts, especially of Caterham Sevens.

While I’m not looking to start up a technology company nor am I a car aficionado, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy books about niche things. After all, I placed That’s Me, Groucho!: The Solo Career of Groucho Marx by Matthew Coniam on my best list back in 2020, and that too has a very specific fanbase. What I’m saying is that even though I didn’t connect to books like Committed, I found things in them to like.

Both Sprickerhoff and Rees try to appeal to a wider audience, yet the latter is the most effective. Sprickerhoff uses analogies quite a lot, and he’s quite good at knowing which ones to use. The most frequent one he utilizes is how a company is like a baby. The founder has to take good care of it in order for it to survive and thrive. They will undoubtedly love the company, yet Sprickerhoff lets his readers know that they can’t expect that everyone, including employees, will adore it in the same way (p. 38). In addition, while the author uses tons of technical and business language, he always makes sure that his audience understands what he’s talking about. For example, in his chapter about funding, he defines the different types like pre-seed, seed, and Series A. While discussing seed funding, Sprickerhoff mentions angels, which are seed funds that might include “accelerator groups, formal family offices, or high-net-worth (HNW) investors, many of whom might have previously trod the very road you’re on” (p. 136).

They are usually the group, in which founders will likely try to seek outside investment money from.

One of the most beneficial parts about the manual is the chapter on mental health. Sprickerhoff is fully aware of how taxing it can be to start up a business. Specifically, he says the following, “You should expect that despite whatever success you achieve at some point, things will fall apart. Most of what I have put together in this book I learned along the path through the various mishaps, bumps, and bruises that come along with nurturing a startup” (p. 176).

To combat this, he offers plenty of coping mechanisms that help to bring people to the surface when they feel that they are drowning. These include spending time with family, exercise, talking to people outside of the startup ecosystem, listening to motivational speakers, listening to music, and therapy. He even reveals his own “Startup Hype List” of songs that get him through the day. They include tunes like “Lose Yourself” by Eminem, “99 Problems” by Jay-Z, and “Started From the Bottom” by Drake (p. 180).

Advice like these make the manual realistic when it comes to starting up a tech business. Sprickerhoff offers a positive view of achieving this goal, while also being blunt about it. Two of the other important tips that he gives is “Everything will take longer than you expect it to, even when you take this statement into account” and “Learn how to sell. Do not abdicate the responsibility for selling” (p. 195).

This and other pieces of advice are iterated throughout the book, but Sprickerhoff also includes them in the “TL;DR” section at the end.

He too gives personal stories about his trials and tribulations when starting a tech business. This adds authenticity to what he says. In case anybody is wondering, he also offers his opinion on reality television shows like Shark Tank

Committed: Startup Survival Tips and Uncommon Sense for First-Time Tech Founders by Eldon Sprickerhoff is a great manual for those looking to start-up a technology-related company. It offers great, realistic advice. Even if the author uses jargon that some readers might get confused with, he always takes the time to explain it without being condescending. Also, he sold me on the analogies and the mental health chapter. Although it’s not a title for me, I can see tech/business people committing themselves to reading it. Committed: Startup Survival Tips and Uncommon Sense for First-Time Tech Founders will be out Tuesday, November 12, so go grab it wherever you get your books.

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Adapt Me Podcast – I Was a Teenage Slasher

Hi Everybody!

Pay homage to your favorite slasher movies and try to control your killer instincts because returning guest Mel B of BDA Publishing and I discuss how we would adapt “I Was a Teenage Slasher” by Stephen Graham Jones in the latest episode of the Adapt Me Podcast! You can check it out at this link.

In the meantime, you can see my review of I Was a Teenage Slasher here.

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