In December I posted about a wonderful book entitled The Silent Deal that I had read the month before. Two days later I actually started the second book, The Magic Trick and before the year was up I had it finished, devouring the prose like some sort of drug. It was truly addictive.
Unfortunately, that little thing known as 'Christmas' and 'New Year' got in the way of writing a blog and it's now close to a month since I finished the book. I apologise for this, not for this being late per se, but for the simple fact that a review of any media is much fairer when all is fresh in the mind. Since then many things have happened and I worry that this review will not be as complete as it perhaps would have been before Christmas.
When I began The Magic Trick I immediately felt that the style of writing was better than its predecessor. That's not to say The Silent Deal was poorly written; just that things were smoother, the pacing was more fitting and it really felt like Mr Stack was in his stride. This wasn't a cautious nudge into the world of books, this was a charge.
That said, I also felt that they actual content had taken a step back. I don't mean it had gone from an eight to a four, just maybe dropped to a seven. The previous book had been left after such whirlwind events, on the brink of something big, yet the second book began rather tamely. Several months had passed and although we are filled in on the details, the events are rather subdued.
It's still fun. It just feels very much like a 'kids at fantasy school' story (for early on Viktor and select members of the Crossbones Clan are sent to train as apprentices in Staryi Castle, the home of the enemy), à la early Harry Potter, with less wizardry. As I said, it's still entertaining, it's still a pleasure to read, it just feels like the The Silent Deal was the kindling to a great blaze and the The Magic Trick begins as embers.
About a third of the way through, however, things change. Those embers rapidly burn white hot. Things really pick up and I found myself loving the way the story was going. From here, not only writing style but also content supercede the first book. I haven't been so genuinely enthralled by a book in a very long time (I've had books I've enjoyed immensely, but for the first time since about February 2014 it was a book that I did not want to put down. It was a book that rather than reading to procrastinate my workload, I had to read to stop myself being distracted from my workload).
It's genuinely fantastic. There's many more wonderful puns, that make me smile every time I read them. There's still Masqueraiders and cards, but to add to my love of both there is 'traditional' Victorian magic. For those out of the know, as a Magician's Assistant, 'real world' magic is a new passion of mine. So, much like the masquerade masks and use of cards, this book felt like it was written around my hobbies and collections.
There's also a lot more violence; not so much graphic, but what happens is utterly brutal. I am usually fairly unattached to characters; when plethora after plethora of grisly things happen in A Song of Ice and Fire I shrug it off, nonchalant. Okay, so someone else is being horrifically tortured/mauled/killed; ah well! The Magic Trick? Not so much. Two scenes in particular had me reading, absolutely aghast, jaw dropped in shock. It made me squirm.
I mean this in absolutely the best possible way. That's the reaction those scenes are meant to illicit and they're written so marvelously. They shock without being unnecessarily bloody in description; I think, if anything, it's the lack of visceral prose that makes those scenes really stand out. The one critique I will give, however, it when one character is truly brutalised (no spoilers as to who or how), he spends the rest of the book acting as if he has not been physically broken. It's just a little strange, as if these new physical ailments have no effect on his being.
Still, it's a minor issue in an otherwise brilliant read.
Much like The Silent Deal, the questions you are dying to know go unanswered, but it strikes an excellent balance between answering and creating questions, so you don't feel frustrated at the end. Unlike The Silent Deal, there's a lot more action and things are creeping ever closer to an Armageddon. A lot happens in The Magic Trick, including a lot more page time of The Leopard (who is an utterly fantastically evil character) but it's clearly still the beginning. There's a lot more to come and I'm impatient waiting (the third book is not out yet).
I genuinely think Levi Stack had outdone himself here. Just like my last post, I really cannot thank him enough for bringing me such sheer enjoyment in book form. For me it's a perfect blend of flawed characters, in depth story and light entertainment. The Magic Trick is perfect sequel to The Silent Deal and a perfect opening for what is yet to come.
This book in facts and figures;
My rating: 9/10
Pages: 420
My Format: E-book
Published: 2014
Tuesday, 20 January 2015
Tuesday, 6 January 2015
Reading Leads to Silent Nights
With Christmas having come and gone and 2015 rolled in, it's time for me to start blogging again now that free time is back on my side.
This post, rather than a review of any books (which, really, I do have a couple I need to write about) is going to be about the books I received from my family, which includes my fancy, super special present (but I'm getting ahead of myself). I've not had chance for more than a perfunctory flip through these books, but I'm looking forward to being able to review them properly (and it gives you guys an insight in to what's coming up).
The first book I got was Mütter Museum: Historic Medical Photographs. It had been on my Amazon wishlist after Goodreads recommended it after adding The Resurrectionist to me 'to read' list. What can I say? I enjoy picture books of the macabre and bizarre; the older I get, the more convinced I am that I'm actually a Victorian curio collector, that eccentric academic of the peculiar.
Certainly, Mütter Museum isn't for the non-squeamish, although it is certainly no worse than modern medical and forensic counterparts. I find it an utterly fascinating look into the past. My father, however, thinks it is pretty grim, perhaps even grotesque; for me, it really is no different to seeing images of post surgery now. Some images are more disturbing than others, but many are what would be considered fairly 'straight forward' medical procedures by today's standards (for example, there are several photos of people post amputation; bear in mind, amputation has been around pretty much for forever, at least as early as the 14th Century). Some of the images (and, by extension, the medical technology) are utterly astounding though; from the man who had a hip removal, to the young boy who had extreme cosmetic surgery on a burn on his arm (the skin had fused in a flexed position so, without the surgery, he did not have full use of it). In its own way, it is incredibly beautiful; each photo, after all, depicts a human being; when you actually realise these people were living, breathing and had thoughts and dreams, it becomes much more than just an insight into the bizarre human condition.
It's certainly a book I'm looking forward to reading (or perhaps just looking at, as there does not appear to be a great deal of text); I'm not sure whether to leave it on the coffee table for guests to pick up, or whether the weirdness of it will just cement in people's heads that maybe I'm not quite normal. (Although I'm fairly certain they all know that already). The book itself is nice and sturdy, yet heavier than I anticipated. The front image is bizarre and fascinating, although the cover is very, well, beige. I may take the dust cover off to display the black cloth binding.
Also, I had no idea until I was flicking through it on Christmas that Mütter Museum is an actual museum in Philadelphia, from where the photos were taken. Too bad it is across the pond, or I may have paid a visit.
The second book I got was a book entitled Memento Mori by Muriel Spark. It's a fiction novel, that claims to be 'one of the great British novels of the last fifty years' (Julian Barnes). From what I can glean from the blurb and cover, is it is a novel about the aged. They start receiving mysterious phone calls, reminding them of their imminent deaths (after all 'memento mori' is Latin for 'remember you will die'; Lemony Snicket taught me that when I was about nine). I can't really say much more about the novel; neither it nor its author are names I have come across before. My mum admits she bought it simply because the title sounds like it belongs on my shelf; she's not wrong there. It looks like it could be entertaining enough to read (from what I can understand, it is a bit of a black comedy; the blurb uses 'grusome', 'macabre' but also 'hilarious' and 'funny' to describe it) and, while not something I may have picked up myself, I'm going to read it with an open mind. Every now and then, picking up something outside of my usual genre reveals absolute gems of books; I'm hoping this will be the case. (And, if not, well. Remember you will die. It's fitting for the forensic anthropologist to tote around in a handbag.)
I also got a small box set, entitled Mini Treats: Everything for the sweet lover by Parragon [sic]. It comprises of two books; Mini Desserts and Mini Sweets. They're a pair of recipe books for creating teeny, tiny sweet treats, such as S'mores, teeny sundaes and bite-size cheesecakes through to marshmallows, peppermint creams and fruit jellies. They've got some genuinely delicious looking recipes.
I do enjoy cooking and baking, but part of the reason I do less is that my boyfriend and I can never agree on desserts (he likes chocolate, I like fruit), so if I bake a big fruit cake then there's no one around to eat it. These little cookbooks help, by making tiny, one portion desserts (yes, the recipes are for making batches for parties, but it's easy enough to either cut down the ingredients or store the left overs). There is also the added bonus that I can now make all these sumptuous foods dairy free.
Over Christmas we tried out the miniature blueberry crème brûlée and the whisky chocolate fudge. I'm not sure how we managed to both work in my mother's kitchen at the same time (it is the size of a postage stamp), but we did. Both recipes were a success; more so, actually, they were divine. I honestly can't wait to try out some more of these; I may have to throw a party just so I can try more of the recipes.
To be fair, the Sweets book is more interesting as the Desserts are mostly just mini versions of well loved favourites, however they come as a pair and it's still fun to have both. If you enjoy making miniature treats it's definitely worth picking up a set; the books themselves are bright with plenty of images and easy to follow (although the fancy script they use for the titles does mean one recipe is called 'strawberry nipple marshmallows'... Oops). While probably not ground breaking in the cooking department, they're a nice little addition to my cookbook shelf and they're certainly going to be a lot of fun, especially if the rest of the recipes are as successful as the two we've already tried. As mentioned before, the miniature aspect is a real draw for me as it means minimal wastage when my fruit adverse boyfriend refuses to touch it based on it having 'less than 70% cocoa solids'; a normal dessert recipe book would probably go unused in this household.
So that leads us to my favourite book (favourite present, really), the super special, out of print, price could feed a family for a month, book. Well, I say book. I lie, it's a book set. Because I like books, sure, but I love pretty books (why do you think I wanted a medical photography book?) Books that are designed to be art, to be viewed as much as read, that is like crack to me. There's something awesome in the truest sense of the word about a beautifully bound, pleasant to the touch, gilt edged book. The crack of a spine of an unread treasure that smell of fresh paper (or leather; although, if I'm honest, nothing beats the scent of an old book either. It's why my copy of Alice is a tatty, '70s print rather than something brand new in the '90s. Old books smell like the figurative home.).
I digress. My mum bought me a limited edition box set of The Lord of the Rings. Hold on. Hold it right there. Why do I need a copy of The Lord of the Rings? I'm a twenty two year old book loving aficionado; I've read Gormenghast. Surely Rings is an old favourite, a well worn, well read copy at the side of my bed?
Well, uhm. No. As much as I adore the films (that is childhood for me) I've never read, or owned, the books. Oops, sorry. While many of my other friends rushed out to read Rings after the films came out, or read it as they entered their teens I kind of... It was a book that I was always going to read someday so... Why rush? I knew the story, I may as well indulge in other worlds and save Rings for a time when I needed it most.
So I didn't own a copy of Rings. Then, I was in Waterstones at some point and I came across a fantastic copy; cloth bound, with the Tree of Gondor spreading across the spine. Gorgeous; distinctly modern in style and a divide away from 'typical' fantasy covers, yet still wonderfully in keeping. Sadly, at £15, it wasn't something could afford. I had noticed that they were £30 for a set (including The Hobbit, all in a slip case) on eBay and, although I had asked for them for my birthday, I didn't get them. The only problem being that by the time Christmas rolled around, they'd gone out of print... And are now around £250 for the set. Owch. (I have been reliably informed that my parents found the last set in existence for the RRP, which makes me doubly pleased with this gift).
They're even beautiful inside. They have maps, a printed signature on the cover page and The Hobbit has illustrations. I also noticed that Return of the King has the 50th Anniversary Appendices included (there's apparently extra content in the 50th Anniversary edition); I'm fairly certain that normally the Appendices are bought separately to the books. Either way, it's an amazing set and a great addition to my book collection, not only for it's elegance but also so that I can now have such a classic on my shelves.
Part of me feels that I need an equally exquisite copy of Gormenghast, to display the other classic, but the other part of my loves the story behind my second hand, worn old paperbacks.
Not only am I extremely delighted to have received such a wonderful array of books, I am also immensely grateful. My parents have got me some very special gifts this year and I cannot thank them enough for getting me exactly what I wanted. I know that the presents aren't the point of Christmas, but, honestly, thank you (and thank you to everyone who partook in my Christmas one way or another. I am blessed to have such amazing people in my life).
I hope you all had a brilliant Christmas and a fantastic new year! Here's looking towards all the books, loved and hated, of 2015!
This post, rather than a review of any books (which, really, I do have a couple I need to write about) is going to be about the books I received from my family, which includes my fancy, super special present (but I'm getting ahead of myself). I've not had chance for more than a perfunctory flip through these books, but I'm looking forward to being able to review them properly (and it gives you guys an insight in to what's coming up).
The first book I got was Mütter Museum: Historic Medical Photographs. It had been on my Amazon wishlist after Goodreads recommended it after adding The Resurrectionist to me 'to read' list. What can I say? I enjoy picture books of the macabre and bizarre; the older I get, the more convinced I am that I'm actually a Victorian curio collector, that eccentric academic of the peculiar.
It's certainly a book I'm looking forward to reading (or perhaps just looking at, as there does not appear to be a great deal of text); I'm not sure whether to leave it on the coffee table for guests to pick up, or whether the weirdness of it will just cement in people's heads that maybe I'm not quite normal. (Although I'm fairly certain they all know that already). The book itself is nice and sturdy, yet heavier than I anticipated. The front image is bizarre and fascinating, although the cover is very, well, beige. I may take the dust cover off to display the black cloth binding.
Also, I had no idea until I was flicking through it on Christmas that Mütter Museum is an actual museum in Philadelphia, from where the photos were taken. Too bad it is across the pond, or I may have paid a visit.
The second book I got was a book entitled Memento Mori by Muriel Spark. It's a fiction novel, that claims to be 'one of the great British novels of the last fifty years' (Julian Barnes). From what I can glean from the blurb and cover, is it is a novel about the aged. They start receiving mysterious phone calls, reminding them of their imminent deaths (after all 'memento mori' is Latin for 'remember you will die'; Lemony Snicket taught me that when I was about nine). I can't really say much more about the novel; neither it nor its author are names I have come across before. My mum admits she bought it simply because the title sounds like it belongs on my shelf; she's not wrong there. It looks like it could be entertaining enough to read (from what I can understand, it is a bit of a black comedy; the blurb uses 'grusome', 'macabre' but also 'hilarious' and 'funny' to describe it) and, while not something I may have picked up myself, I'm going to read it with an open mind. Every now and then, picking up something outside of my usual genre reveals absolute gems of books; I'm hoping this will be the case. (And, if not, well. Remember you will die. It's fitting for the forensic anthropologist to tote around in a handbag.)
 |
| Two books, plus gift tags and cake wrappers. |
I do enjoy cooking and baking, but part of the reason I do less is that my boyfriend and I can never agree on desserts (he likes chocolate, I like fruit), so if I bake a big fruit cake then there's no one around to eat it. These little cookbooks help, by making tiny, one portion desserts (yes, the recipes are for making batches for parties, but it's easy enough to either cut down the ingredients or store the left overs). There is also the added bonus that I can now make all these sumptuous foods dairy free.
Over Christmas we tried out the miniature blueberry crème brûlée and the whisky chocolate fudge. I'm not sure how we managed to both work in my mother's kitchen at the same time (it is the size of a postage stamp), but we did. Both recipes were a success; more so, actually, they were divine. I honestly can't wait to try out some more of these; I may have to throw a party just so I can try more of the recipes.
 |
| Unfortunate font... |
So that leads us to my favourite book (favourite present, really), the super special, out of print, price could feed a family for a month, book. Well, I say book. I lie, it's a book set. Because I like books, sure, but I love pretty books (why do you think I wanted a medical photography book?) Books that are designed to be art, to be viewed as much as read, that is like crack to me. There's something awesome in the truest sense of the word about a beautifully bound, pleasant to the touch, gilt edged book. The crack of a spine of an unread treasure that smell of fresh paper (or leather; although, if I'm honest, nothing beats the scent of an old book either. It's why my copy of Alice is a tatty, '70s print rather than something brand new in the '90s. Old books smell like the figurative home.).
I digress. My mum bought me a limited edition box set of The Lord of the Rings. Hold on. Hold it right there. Why do I need a copy of The Lord of the Rings? I'm a twenty two year old book loving aficionado; I've read Gormenghast. Surely Rings is an old favourite, a well worn, well read copy at the side of my bed?
Well, uhm. No. As much as I adore the films (that is childhood for me) I've never read, or owned, the books. Oops, sorry. While many of my other friends rushed out to read Rings after the films came out, or read it as they entered their teens I kind of... It was a book that I was always going to read someday so... Why rush? I knew the story, I may as well indulge in other worlds and save Rings for a time when I needed it most.
So I didn't own a copy of Rings. Then, I was in Waterstones at some point and I came across a fantastic copy; cloth bound, with the Tree of Gondor spreading across the spine. Gorgeous; distinctly modern in style and a divide away from 'typical' fantasy covers, yet still wonderfully in keeping. Sadly, at £15, it wasn't something could afford. I had noticed that they were £30 for a set (including The Hobbit, all in a slip case) on eBay and, although I had asked for them for my birthday, I didn't get them. The only problem being that by the time Christmas rolled around, they'd gone out of print... And are now around £250 for the set. Owch. (I have been reliably informed that my parents found the last set in existence for the RRP, which makes me doubly pleased with this gift).
Part of me feels that I need an equally exquisite copy of Gormenghast, to display the other classic, but the other part of my loves the story behind my second hand, worn old paperbacks.
Not only am I extremely delighted to have received such a wonderful array of books, I am also immensely grateful. My parents have got me some very special gifts this year and I cannot thank them enough for getting me exactly what I wanted. I know that the presents aren't the point of Christmas, but, honestly, thank you (and thank you to everyone who partook in my Christmas one way or another. I am blessed to have such amazing people in my life).
I hope you all had a brilliant Christmas and a fantastic new year! Here's looking towards all the books, loved and hated, of 2015!
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