Delightful. 

Magical. 

Fantastical.

Bewitching. 

Heartwarming. 

Charming.

To be a Waverley in Bascom, NC is a special thing. Some would call that special thing natureal, some would call  it strange. Some would embrace it and some would run as far and and as fast as they could from it. Accept it or not, appreciate it or not, the Waverleys are special.

Claire and Sydney are sisters who had dramatically different childhoods. One seemed to inherit the talent to use the edible flowers in their family garden to create enchanted dishes. So many secrets get passed down from Grandma Waverley to an eager Claire. Sydney, however, distanced herself from the “special” label of the Waverley name and escaped from Bascom as soon as she graduated high school.

Years later, Sydney is trying to escape from something else, and comes home with her daughter. Both sisters struggle to overcome misunderstandings from their childhood, and choices they’ve made as adults. They learn to trust each other, and eventually themselves. Once their carefully constructed walls of doubt start to crumble, they discover the true magic of old family ties and new love.

I can’t tell you how much I loved this book. The story is told in such a magical, almost sing-song way. I love that it’s not told by just one character, as well. Many of the characters get to tell their own tale, from their own perspective. So many things going on, but all blending and weaving together. It’s comforting, and despite the very obvious supernatural aspects of the story, makes you believe. 

The story is full of funny, quirky side characters that just move into your heart and stay there. Evenelle, who will show up at any time of the day or night to give you something that she just KNOWS you’re going to need (and you do, always, end up needing it) is one of my favorites. Not everyone has a happy tale to share, but the friendships that get them through those not-happy times are just incredible.

This was the first, but will absolutely NOT be the last book I read from Sarah Addison Allen. She’s worked her story magic on me, and I have a feeling she’ll do the same to you.

I only have 3 books left to read (plus one in progress that I need to finish) for Halloween Bingo, so I'm going to take some time and figure out which ones will be next.

I'm going to pick Mary Shelley's The Last Man for Genre: Horror because I am all horrored-out at this point, and need something that is more Goth than Gore.

I'm also super intrigued by a post-apocalyptic sci-fi novel written by Shelley in 1826. I mean, she's not the first author that immediately comes to mind when thinking about post-apocalyptic sci-fi.

Bring it, Mary!

I'll be listening to The Last Man mostly on my commute next week.

Mikey climbed into the Honda and turned the key in the ignition. He revved the engine, tossing mud up into the air as the car peeled out of the clearing and onto the road back to Auburn. He glanced down at the dashboard clock. It was one o’clock in the morning on the last day of September—or rather, the first day of October—and he had just bashed out the brains of an innocent, defenseless animal in order to cast a spell he’d found on the Internet to make the bullies in town suffer for having hurt him. Mikey felt he would vomit. He pulled the car to the side of the road and leaned out of the driver’s side door just as his stomach began to heave. All of this for nothing, he thought sickly, retching into the mud. I killed a living thing for nothing. Yeah, I’m a real sorcerer, aren’t I? I am Mikey Childress. Fear me. Christ almighty, what have I turned into? On the ride home it occurred to him that the best thing to do would be to drive off one of the cliffs and crash his mother’s car into a ravine. It would solve a lot of problems. At the same time, he suspected, he probably didn’t even have the courage for that.

This quote to me very represents the very best part of the book: the almost tangible despair and inner turmoil in the main character, whose life has been shaped by bullies of all kinds. 

With respect to the portrayal of bullying and the impact it can have on a person, October was great. 

What didn't work for me was the execution. The story felt rushed, most of the characters were a bit two dimensional, the plot and characters choices felt at many time ludicrous, and there were some other writing choices that made me either groan, roll my eyes, or want to heave.

Sure, this was a novella and had limitations of length to contend with, but to me the story just felt rushed and trying to do too much.

Not for me.

I'm still working reading away on my plan to get the hard-boiled horror out of the way first, so I can spend the rest of the game with categories that are more to my liking. 

Saying that, I do love McDowell and would not have changed out yesterday's reading of The Amulet for anything, and I also enjoy expanding my reading boundaries ... or more accurately phrased when it comes to the Horror genre ... tie my comfort zone boundaries up with duck tape, throw them in the back of the car, take them to a cliff, set fire to them, kick them over the edge to challenge the the sea gods to a duell. 

Anyway. My next one is another recommendation by Char and I am reading it for the Modern Masters of Horror square. It would also fit Terror in a Small Town, Genre: Horror, Supernatural.

(I've taken inspiration from Moonlight's pumpkin spice latte yesterday, but without pumpkin spice at hand I've opted for cinnamon.) 

*whines* It's still miserable, windy winter here!! How do I combat the chills this induced? *shudder*

Whenever I read stories like this, I remember that quote "novels win by points, short stories by knock outs". I know I was already whimpering one page in. I finished with a wiki-walk and... How come every interpretation is so... mild? compassionate? forgiving?... of the husband?

I get time and society marching on, and symbolism, but how come picking the barred, dreary, ex-nursery with mismatched furniture and a purposely for that visit nailed down bed makes any but malicious sense?

No monster, no gore, but hell, psychological mind-fucks will forever get me shivering