2026 REREAD: Gosh, goddess and Godzilla is this cute! A surprisingly adorable, endearing, touching and heartrending girl's coming-of-age story and (monster!) metaphor.
Everything in my old review below still applies.
In my sudden recent, and disappointing, manga rereads, I'm so happy that at least my opinion on 'Kaiju Girl Caramelise, Vol. 1' hasn't changed.
Final Score: 4.5/5
Original Review:
Teenage girl has to hide a literal monster illness, and she transforms into a kaiju, as a metaphor for adolescence and the tumultuous feelings that come with it, told in cute, shoujo-style artwork.
I should just end it right there.
I've never seen a kaiju or Godzilla movie, not in full anyway, but I know my shoujo manga, and 'Kaiju Girl Caramelise, Vol. 1' mixes these two genres in a playful, funny, charming, adorable, endearing, heartfelt, teary way.
Pretty much all the high school shoujo genre clichés are here: The socially-awkward, outcast female lead; the popular bishonen love interest who is not as perfect or happy as he appears; mean girls who are infatuated with said love interest and are deadly jealous of said female lead for getting his attention; the weird, embarrassing parent who acts more like a child her/himself; the other, prettier female lead who becomes friends with the heroine, and is quirky or otherwise eccentric to counter her polished reputation and appearance. Add a variety of cake in there and you have cuteness in the barrel.
But it is handled well. The manga is written surprisingly thoughtfully and delicately. Everyone is insecure and hiding themselves in different ways.
The art is absolutely brilliant; cute, round and sparkly, appropriate for slice-of-life and comedic scenes, but it knows when to be serious as well. The ginormous kaiju that the heroine, Kuroe Akaishi, turns into when she can't control her lovesick emotions anymore, looks stunningly awesome.
I think all teenagers can relate to Kuroe on some level; the poor, self-hating yet precious, sweet, funny, sparkling bundle of nerves. There's the pressure to be normal and perfect in a cruel, judgmental world, where problems cannot be acknowledged - cannot be revealed out in the open. No acceptance, no outward "ugliness", no "bad" emotions, no cries for help. Even though repressing feelings and any kind of psychological issues is not healthy living. It comes to the point that when something good does come in a depressed outcast's path, they will refuse to believe it is genuine, and try to push it away because they are made to think they don't deserve it. They've been hurt and disappointed too many times before.
Anyone can relate to this. Anyone can be coerced, unconsciously or not, to feel ugly and unlovable.
It is so easy for a sci-fi/fantasy story to allege the "Who's the real monster?" message, but in this world, we've made it too easy.
Everyone is a monster to a degree. Everyone is battling their own personal demons. Kuroe's monster is just more literal.
And since the world is much harder on teenage girls than anyone else, well...the allegory is inevitable.
As much as I adore and relate to the lonely, awkward, marginalised Kuroe - I'd hug her, not caring about any spikes on her body - I think my favourite character is Manatsu, the friendly, pretty girl with a kaiju fetish. I won't spoil anything else, but oh my, Kuroe unleashing as a giant, barely-rampaging monster has nothing on Manatsu's fanatic, otaku craze. It is all delectable and in jest, and Kuroe needs a friend other than a boy.
Kuroe's mum is a fun character, too. She uses humour and smothering affection to try to make her daughter feel normal and loved despite her unpredictable, incurable condition. She's a little strange - though no stranger than her kaiju child - but she loves her darling Kuroe dearly, and will go to any lengths to protect her. We need more attentive parents like this in manga and anime, please.
Their little dog is named Jumbo King. Good old Japan.
'Kaiju Girl Caramelise, Vol. 1' (goddess, even the title is freaking cute, did I mention I love Japan!?) - sweetness, self-awareness, remarkable wokeness, comedy, and heart. And pancakes. Recommended to anyone.
Final Score: 4.5/5
Sunday, 21 July 2019
Saturday, 20 July 2019
Book Review - 'Sorcery of Thorns' by Margaret Rogerson
2023 Reread: Oh wow. So much better on my second read. One of the most genuinely well written, magical, creative, immersive, entertaining, heartwarming, beautiful, big and powerful fantasy novels I've ever read. Surprisingly funny, too, in spite of its tackling of serious subject matters.
A massive, marvellous well done to the author.
Final Score: 4/5
Original Review:
'Elisabeth lit up. "Grimoires," she breathed, even more delighted than before.
Nathaniel's expression grew odd. "You like this place?"
"Of course I do. It has books in it."'
Damn that cover's awesome.
Even better is that it isn't a lie (mostly) - there actually is an arse-kicking, perturbed-looking female lead with a pretty sword, and vines, thorns and purple roses bloom wherever and whenever she fights. The magic is from the male lead, but it's still a beauty.
'Sorcery of Thorns' is a special case for me. Because it starts out good, then it gets confusing and weird, but then slowly but surely it picks itself back up again, and it keeps on climbing higher and higher, soaring towards one of the best YA climaxes I have read in a long time. It's one of the best YA fantasy climaxes, period. Except for the last two pages, which almost made me reconsider giving it good praise, but what the hay - the last few hundred pages are too entertaining and heartfelt for the little things to taint, with ink blots, this glorious beast of a book.
So this book - a great big fantasy novel - is a case of me going through so many ups and downs whilst reading, losing heart one moment but loving it the next, that I did end up staying in love, warts and all. Like being in a real life relationship with a person. Regardless of flaws and mix-ups, it has heart, and it tries very hard to get better all the time, with successful, admirable results.
Nothing is perfect, after all.
It's wonderfully well written, despite some confusion in the worldbuilding: It's alternative historical fiction in the 1800s, where magic is real, powerful and widely known. As are demons. But these are feared yet revered as well? And it's all ping-pong and dice-rolling when it comes to gender politics and roles. The tome is charming and surprisingly funny as well. I simply could not put it down. What genuinely exciting days it has been for me reading it.
Mainly I wanted to read 'Sorcery of Thorns' because of the promise of a strong fantasy heroine driving her own story and personal journey, and because of the premise which features books, called Grimoires, as sentient beings - monsters, even, just like 'The Monster Book of Monsters' from 'Harry Potter'. But in spite of knowledge being literally dangerous in this world, the heroine, Elisabeth Scrivener, loves them, and loves libraries and grew up in one, covered in pesky, pesty booklice.
I won't reveal much more, since I want as many readers as possible to pick 'Sorcery of Thorns' up blind like I was, and experience its magical, frustrating but worth it journey as open as a good book. Or as pure and wondering as a newborn.
All I'll say is that Elisabeth is as complex, complicated, adorable yet sharp as her story. She's sixteen, tall for her age, a little clumsy, very funny at times, strong physically and wilfully (except when she isn't, thus one aspect of the confusing continuity issues), uses a sword, Demonslayer, given to her by her female Director, and starts out as a single-minded library warden's apprentice, then through great character development grows into so much more for her world.
Elisabeth is assertive, very brave, and gets stuff done. I had my doubts about her sometimes, when she is dependent on the protection provided by two male characters, the equally complex magister, or sorcerer, named Nathaniel Thorn, and his not-so mysterious servant Silas. She'd be dead without the constant help of those guys. People have a habit of talking about her as if she isn't in the room and conscious; though she does have her own habit of being rendered unconscious at the end of a chapter - a typical fantasy cliché. But Elisabeth, Nathaniel and Silas make an engaging, entertaining team, and whatever Elisabeth goes through, whenever she is used and abused, she gets back up and never gives up. Understandably, she has slight PTSD and anxiety, which could have been explored a lot more, admittedly.
One of the most subversive things about Elisabeth's character is that she isn't a chosen one of a prophecy, and she isn't related by blood to anyone special. She's an orphan whose parents remain unknown throughout the entire book - we get no clues whatsoever to the circumstances of her birth. It is because of where she grew up and her own actions that mark her as "special". It is nurture rather than nature that makes her a hero. Take note, Hollywood.
Her best friend is fellow librarian apprentice Katrien, a dark-skinned, eager mad scientist girl who is also coded as asexual. She acts as the fourth edition to the team whenever she can help Elisabeth as she's in danger.
Nathaniel is Elisabeth's love interest, predictably. A super-tragic, bad boy love interest at that. But their romance is slow-building and natural, and they work well off of each other. Their banter is hilarious and touching; I love characters that are in a dark place and are depressed, but still able to tell facetious jokes to hide their pain. Plus, in a wonderful twist, Nathaniel is bisexual! I swear his relationship with Silas is deeper than we are explicitly shown.
The book doesn't drown in overdescriptions of kissing, thank the moon and sun. Elisabeth and Nathaniel - YA love between a hot magic boy and a strong girl that I feel warmly about. I never thought I'd be rooting for them, but that's what good writing and characters do.
Elisabeth doesn't only love books: she becomes a freedom fighter. A saviour of the reviled and an enemy of a rich and powerful man in society. She does learn and grow stronger over the course of the book; she's worthy of the moniker "heroine".
Bonus: Therein lies a cute fluffy white demon cat, whom Elisabeth dubs Sir Fluffington. Nuff said.
'Sorcery of Thorns' isn't as subversive as it could have been, with its race and sex rep, and there is one antagonistic character who is scarred and hard of hearing, and only briefly shows up. Its moments of sheer brilliance and cleverness are jarring when taking the confusing worldbuilding into account.
But dang it, it's powerful entertainment. An ideal coming-of-age fantasy story, that reminds me of why I love fantasy. It's a dark, huggable gem that leaves me giddy and willing to forgive its shortcomings. A beautiful, dramatic, loving monster that can be tamed.
Never judge a book by its cover (even if the cover turns out to be as good as the book), or by its first impressions.
Final Score: 3.5/5
A massive, marvellous well done to the author.
Final Score: 4/5
Original Review:
'Elisabeth lit up. "Grimoires," she breathed, even more delighted than before.
Nathaniel's expression grew odd. "You like this place?"
"Of course I do. It has books in it."'
Damn that cover's awesome.
Even better is that it isn't a lie (mostly) - there actually is an arse-kicking, perturbed-looking female lead with a pretty sword, and vines, thorns and purple roses bloom wherever and whenever she fights. The magic is from the male lead, but it's still a beauty.
'Sorcery of Thorns' is a special case for me. Because it starts out good, then it gets confusing and weird, but then slowly but surely it picks itself back up again, and it keeps on climbing higher and higher, soaring towards one of the best YA climaxes I have read in a long time. It's one of the best YA fantasy climaxes, period. Except for the last two pages, which almost made me reconsider giving it good praise, but what the hay - the last few hundred pages are too entertaining and heartfelt for the little things to taint, with ink blots, this glorious beast of a book.
So this book - a great big fantasy novel - is a case of me going through so many ups and downs whilst reading, losing heart one moment but loving it the next, that I did end up staying in love, warts and all. Like being in a real life relationship with a person. Regardless of flaws and mix-ups, it has heart, and it tries very hard to get better all the time, with successful, admirable results.
Nothing is perfect, after all.
It's wonderfully well written, despite some confusion in the worldbuilding: It's alternative historical fiction in the 1800s, where magic is real, powerful and widely known. As are demons. But these are feared yet revered as well? And it's all ping-pong and dice-rolling when it comes to gender politics and roles. The tome is charming and surprisingly funny as well. I simply could not put it down. What genuinely exciting days it has been for me reading it.
Mainly I wanted to read 'Sorcery of Thorns' because of the promise of a strong fantasy heroine driving her own story and personal journey, and because of the premise which features books, called Grimoires, as sentient beings - monsters, even, just like 'The Monster Book of Monsters' from 'Harry Potter'. But in spite of knowledge being literally dangerous in this world, the heroine, Elisabeth Scrivener, loves them, and loves libraries and grew up in one, covered in pesky, pesty booklice.
I won't reveal much more, since I want as many readers as possible to pick 'Sorcery of Thorns' up blind like I was, and experience its magical, frustrating but worth it journey as open as a good book. Or as pure and wondering as a newborn.
All I'll say is that Elisabeth is as complex, complicated, adorable yet sharp as her story. She's sixteen, tall for her age, a little clumsy, very funny at times, strong physically and wilfully (except when she isn't, thus one aspect of the confusing continuity issues), uses a sword, Demonslayer, given to her by her female Director, and starts out as a single-minded library warden's apprentice, then through great character development grows into so much more for her world.
Elisabeth is assertive, very brave, and gets stuff done. I had my doubts about her sometimes, when she is dependent on the protection provided by two male characters, the equally complex magister, or sorcerer, named Nathaniel Thorn, and his not-so mysterious servant Silas. She'd be dead without the constant help of those guys. People have a habit of talking about her as if she isn't in the room and conscious; though she does have her own habit of being rendered unconscious at the end of a chapter - a typical fantasy cliché. But Elisabeth, Nathaniel and Silas make an engaging, entertaining team, and whatever Elisabeth goes through, whenever she is used and abused, she gets back up and never gives up. Understandably, she has slight PTSD and anxiety, which could have been explored a lot more, admittedly.
One of the most subversive things about Elisabeth's character is that she isn't a chosen one of a prophecy, and she isn't related by blood to anyone special. She's an orphan whose parents remain unknown throughout the entire book - we get no clues whatsoever to the circumstances of her birth. It is because of where she grew up and her own actions that mark her as "special". It is nurture rather than nature that makes her a hero. Take note, Hollywood.
Her best friend is fellow librarian apprentice Katrien, a dark-skinned, eager mad scientist girl who is also coded as asexual. She acts as the fourth edition to the team whenever she can help Elisabeth as she's in danger.
Nathaniel is Elisabeth's love interest, predictably. A super-tragic, bad boy love interest at that. But their romance is slow-building and natural, and they work well off of each other. Their banter is hilarious and touching; I love characters that are in a dark place and are depressed, but still able to tell facetious jokes to hide their pain. Plus, in a wonderful twist, Nathaniel is bisexual! I swear his relationship with Silas is deeper than we are explicitly shown.
The book doesn't drown in overdescriptions of kissing, thank the moon and sun. Elisabeth and Nathaniel - YA love between a hot magic boy and a strong girl that I feel warmly about. I never thought I'd be rooting for them, but that's what good writing and characters do.
Elisabeth doesn't only love books: she becomes a freedom fighter. A saviour of the reviled and an enemy of a rich and powerful man in society. She does learn and grow stronger over the course of the book; she's worthy of the moniker "heroine".
Bonus: Therein lies a cute fluffy white demon cat, whom Elisabeth dubs Sir Fluffington. Nuff said.
'Sorcery of Thorns' isn't as subversive as it could have been, with its race and sex rep, and there is one antagonistic character who is scarred and hard of hearing, and only briefly shows up. Its moments of sheer brilliance and cleverness are jarring when taking the confusing worldbuilding into account.
But dang it, it's powerful entertainment. An ideal coming-of-age fantasy story, that reminds me of why I love fantasy. It's a dark, huggable gem that leaves me giddy and willing to forgive its shortcomings. A beautiful, dramatic, loving monster that can be tamed.
Never judge a book by its cover (even if the cover turns out to be as good as the book), or by its first impressions.
Final Score: 3.5/5
Wednesday, 17 July 2019
Hamilton
I went with my mum to see Hamilton last night for my birthday. Loved it. Here is what I could get for now 😊
"Immigrants - we get the job done!"
"Immigrants - we get the job done!"
Tuesday, 16 July 2019
Birthday Presents Part 1
New gorgeous lamp (placed in front of a little part of my manga collection, and my witchy jewelry box)
Bronze witch and cat statuette
Japanese pink Lolita cosplay dress (which came out orange 😕😅😒)
Another Japanese pink Lolita cosplay dress (and that one did turn out pink 😌😃😊)
Summer dress from my workplace
Madoka shirt, plus the goddess Isis necklace (both of which I'll be wearing today to London)
Bast and Nefertiti necklaces
Beautiful honeycomb necklace which I happened to find by chance in a shop near me
Undertale! (Undyne coming soon)
(Part 2 coming soon)
Monday, 15 July 2019
RWBY, She-Ra, and book review 2019 update
I can't believe that after all these years of calling myself a girl power fan and critic, I hadn't seen this series; barely gave it a glance. But I've finally viewed the massively popular webtoon, 'RWBY'.
What did I think? I enjoyed it at first. The girls are actually action-orientated and use physical force and weapons, and they don't transform or use a sparkly aesthetic like typical magical girls. The characters (their designs and personalities) and the action sequences are fantastic. Worthy of note: season three is definitely the best.
All ages can and should see 'RWBY', and others like it.
But like most long-running shows, it goes downhill from its peak. Or its beacon, as it were. It gets too complicated, too convoluted, with too many characters to keep track of, and worse, Ruby herself barely appears or does anything in her own show. When five seasons in and I still have no clue what the villains' motivations are, aside from the typical darkness and chaos rules misanthropy, then there is a problem (the main villain, Salem, is a complete nonentity, and I am not impressed by the others).
For these reasons, I don't think I will be continuing the series, once season six is uploaded on YouTube. It is a shame.
In other news: I've seen 'She Ra and the Princesses of Power' season two... apparently. It's only seven episodes long, and only a few of them are entertaining and relevant to the overarching story. Got to wait over twelve months for the third season for things to actually progress and reach a conclusion. Yey.
In other other news: I can't believe I'm saying this, and that it might have come to this; but I'm just not enjoying reading books as much as I used to. Too many disappointments and DNFs from this year and the last few have caused me to lose faith in the medium of novel lit. I'm not as quick as I used to be, and often I'm too busy with other stuff in my life to make time for reading. Only a few novels left are planned for this year, and then I'm done. For now. So expect less Artemis Crescent book reviews coming up from now on. I've started writing more negative reviews this year as well; summing up my current mood and how I just don't care anymore. I'll read and write what I want, whenever I want. No one is forcing me to do anything.
That's me and my opinions, given to you. I'm out. Have a good, moonlit night.
What did I think? I enjoyed it at first. The girls are actually action-orientated and use physical force and weapons, and they don't transform or use a sparkly aesthetic like typical magical girls. The characters (their designs and personalities) and the action sequences are fantastic. Worthy of note: season three is definitely the best.
All ages can and should see 'RWBY', and others like it.
But like most long-running shows, it goes downhill from its peak. Or its beacon, as it were. It gets too complicated, too convoluted, with too many characters to keep track of, and worse, Ruby herself barely appears or does anything in her own show. When five seasons in and I still have no clue what the villains' motivations are, aside from the typical darkness and chaos rules misanthropy, then there is a problem (the main villain, Salem, is a complete nonentity, and I am not impressed by the others).
For these reasons, I don't think I will be continuing the series, once season six is uploaded on YouTube. It is a shame.
In other news: I've seen 'She Ra and the Princesses of Power' season two... apparently. It's only seven episodes long, and only a few of them are entertaining and relevant to the overarching story. Got to wait over twelve months for the third season for things to actually progress and reach a conclusion. Yey.
In other other news: I can't believe I'm saying this, and that it might have come to this; but I'm just not enjoying reading books as much as I used to. Too many disappointments and DNFs from this year and the last few have caused me to lose faith in the medium of novel lit. I'm not as quick as I used to be, and often I'm too busy with other stuff in my life to make time for reading. Only a few novels left are planned for this year, and then I'm done. For now. So expect less Artemis Crescent book reviews coming up from now on. I've started writing more negative reviews this year as well; summing up my current mood and how I just don't care anymore. I'll read and write what I want, whenever I want. No one is forcing me to do anything.
That's me and my opinions, given to you. I'm out. Have a good, moonlit night.
Sunday, 14 July 2019
Book Review - 'I, Coriander' by Sally Gardner
=Spoiler Warning=
I should have loved 'I, Coriander'. I'd been putting off reading it since its publication in 2005 and I'm not sure why. It seemed right for me. Indeed at first I thought I would love it: A loose retelling of 'Cinderella' set in England in the 17th century, full of magic, witches, fairies, princesses and queens, shadows, another realm, reflections and changes in society, and the dangers of piety and religious extremism. Like a storybook with the benefit of more modern values and dissonance. It should have been an enchanting experience; even dark and full of bloom and gloom and doom. And to give credence, some parts are well written.
But 'I, Coriander' ended up being one of the stupidest books I have ever read. Insultingly stupid, not entertainingly. As in, because its target audience is young it gives it the excuse to be shallow and lazy; to do whatever it wants with no thought to character or plot or any semblance of sense.
I don't even know where to begin. I almost want to laugh at it, because that's preferable to crying in disappointment. Maybe my teenage self was psychic and knew how dumb and hollow 'I, Coriander' was, and that's the subconscious reason for why I didn't read it then. I might have saved a large number of my brain cells - no multiple funerals for those youngin's, once full of potential.
Oh, how best to describe 'I, Coriander'?
'I, Coriander' is like 'Ella Enchanted' - the nearly-equally stupid Anne Hathaway film adaption, not the brilliant book - mixed in with Jacqueline Wilson's worst books containing her most cliched tropes, plus some rejected 'Monty Python' sketches, adding in a kitchen sink of fantasy creatures and elements that made the worldbuilding in 'Mortal Instruments' so random, cliched and incomprehensible; all molded together in Nickelodeon slime that's been in the fridge for eight weeks, inside a cauldron bought at a charity shop, and brewed by one of Diana Wynne Jones's satirical witches, or by a character from 'Pan's Labyrinth' whilst in a fever dream.
Before I get into any specific detail, a disclaimer: I won't go too much into the historical inaccuracies, because there are other reviewers who have pointed them out already. Inaccuracies such as treating Oliver Cromwell like the devil, and King Charles I and Charles II like saints (and Cromwell did not ban Christmas - no one can outright ban Christmas, it's impossible!)
Amid the baffling stupidity and trite and lazy template characterization (more on that in a bit) in 'I, Coriander' is the faux feminism. The main character, Coriander Hobie, is your typical ahead-of-her-time strong young feisty heroine, who loves books and learning, who stands up to the evil adults around her except when she can't, and never wants to marry and fall in love, despite what society (plus a bachelor set for Parliament) pressures her to do. She is nine-years-old, by the way.
Can you guess what happens? The book itself pressures Cori into a damn, shallow love story with barely any substance and chemistry with a cursed fairy prince, Tycho! There is no reason for this love story to exist. At all. Hell, Cori literally runs away with him, on the fly, in his arms, on the very last page. She becomes a man's property when she'd sworn she wouldn't be.
Pray tell, when was this warranted? What does she know about him anyway? What about her family and friends?
The prince even rides a white stallion! Yeah, I wish I was making this up, too.
I hate the romance, it is not needed. What about Cori's family drama, isn't that enough of a conflict?
I read 'I, Coriander' not long after reading 'Opal Plumstead'. The former is like the fantasy version of the latter, right down to the appalling portrayal of women, and the portrayal of men as all lovely gospels of truth and kindness and chivalry. Faux feminism and rampant misogyny - the two books would get along like wildfirehopefully burning together, their ashes pissed on.
An example of the stereotypical portrayal of women in 'I, Coriander' is Cori's evil stepmother, Maud Leggs.
A moment of clarity:
Cori's beloved, mysterious, literally-too-beautiful-and-pure-for-this-world mother is dead. Her grief-stricken father is rushed into marrying almost the first woman he sees, in order to save his reputation and life, and to dispel (ha) rumours of his late wife being a witch. What is most important, however, is that his new wife isn't barren and can bear him a son. Of course.
The introduction of the stepmother is when I really started to dislike the book.
Because Maud. Oh Maud. Oh Maudy Maudy Maudy.
Every single bad thing you can think of in a fairy tale stepmother and worse - every socially-deemed bad thing to be typically attached to a woman, period - that is Maud. She was conceived to have no redeeming qualities whatsoever. She's fat, she's greedy, she's ugly, she has scars and acne, she has a piggy nose and eyes, she has black teeth, she lived in poverty before marrying Cori's father, she's uneducated, she can't read or write (and I swear Cori is the only female in the book who is literate), she smells, she's noisy, she snorts, she whines, she complains always, she's demanding, she's spoiled, she's childish, and is so extreme in her Puritanical Christianity that it is impossible to take her seriously.
Maud sees everything as sinful: pictures on walls, mirrors, and tables and chairs. I am not joking. It's like she waddled (the book's word, not mine) straight out of 'Blackadder', except you're supposed to take her as a genuine article, not a parody. At least, she's supposed to be a serious threat to Cori's life. But even people of the 1650s' wouldn't have given her the time of day. Sure, nobody likes her and they know she's mad and disgusting, but why does everyone tolerate this obviously insane person who would give the mother from 'Carrie' a run for her money?
And she abuses her daughter Hester. Cori's poor, sympathetic stepsister I will talk about later, but now, here's this line from Maud:
"I can neither read nor write, nor would I allow any girl of mine to meddle with letters. I believe that women's minds are too feeble for such things, and words only confuse them the more. Nay, I will leave the reading of the Bible and such matters to the greater minds of men." - page 64
She's a caricature, not a character.
In fact, everybody's a caricature, but that's beside the point.
Maud Leggs is just like Mrs Plumstead, except she's intended to be a villain.
Just like all religious villains as well, she's a raving hypocrite. She's vain and shallow. She's stolen, murdered, and has been an accomplice to murder, before she came to Cori's house. Every inch, every molecule of her character screams "I AM EVIL I AM EVIL LOOK AT HOW EVIL I AM I AM BAD I AM BAD THE CHURCH IS BAD I AM MAD I AM MAD I AM EVIL MAD MAD MAD EVIL EVIL EVIL CAN'T YOU TELL I AM A BAD GUY BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Children's stories deserve better, more complex and interesting villains than this.
Also, if you thought that 'I, Coriander' couldn't possibly be any more over the top, any more ridiculous in its one-dimensional antagonists, Maud's partner in crime, the evil preacher, aka the crooked man, is named Arise Fell.
Arise. Fell.
I'm done. I'm crying and positively dying of laughter. This book is too silly.
Further examples of misogyny are the portrayals of an evil queen and princess in the fairy realm. I can't even be bothered to remember their names, they're so generic. The queen is also a stepmother - memo: all stepmothers are pure evil, we get it, book. The princess, whom the prince Tycho is forced to marry in one chapter, barely appears and is never seen or mentioned again after the botched wedding. She's very fat, is unfavourably compared to a meat pie, is whiny, and only shrieks and screeches; in case you didn't get the book's other memo that pretty = good, ugly = evil.
A villains' evilness is actually all there is to remember about them. They possess no depth whatsoever.
Coriander's pretty-pretty-oh-so-pretty-and-beautiful-and-tragic mother was a princess from the fantasy world. Which makes Cori a fairy princess, too. With a fairy prince to run away with at the very end. This is all so trite and saccharine it hurts. 'I, Coriander' should come with a warning for diabetics.
Maud's daughter Hester might appear to be a positive portrayal of a female who isn't the main character at first. She is nice and is friends with Coriander, and unlike the other women and girls except Cori, she wants to learn to read and write. But it turns out that Hester is on the opposite spectrum of negative female archetypes: She's a weak, pathetic damsel in distress who gets kidnapped and is in constant need of men, and the approval of men. Men like her long-lost brother from war, Ned, who had escaped Maud, and the wise old tailor, Master Thankless, and his apprentice, Gabriel, whom she has a baby boy with (fuck, this is like 'Opal Plumstead'! Stop with these babies already! We get it: Women are nothing and their stories are not worth telling if they don't shit out tikes in their happily ever after! Fuck!)
That particular romance comes out of nowhere, too.
Hester is rendered unimportant in her own rescue, when she is the one that everyone is risking their lives to save. It is all about Gabriel and his manly heroics. The next time we see Hester after she's been dragged around, she's had a baby. Motherhood leaves Hester so pretty and angelic, going goo-goo gaga over her perfect little white baby.
All she ever needed in life to be happy was a man. Several men, even. Her mother can go fuck herself.
Every "good" female gets married at the end. This includes Danes, Cori's mother's former witch assistant and Cori's positive but ineffective mother figure, to Master Thankless. That, thrice more, comes out of the blue.
I mean, wow.
One more rant: Tycho talks infrequently of mermaids in the fairy realm in the few times we see him. Once the evil queen is defeated, he says that everything is back to normal and happy and dappy and sappy and I-feel-so-sick-what-is-this-shit-good-vs-evil-black-and-white-morality-child's-play-crap, and that the mermaids are back. But we never see them! It's tell and no show! I was told there'd be mermaids but there aren't! What is wrong with this story!?
'I, Coriander' takes itself way too seriously for such a shallow, blanket fairy tale. It's that rarity where it contains so much substance and plot, but at the same time there's hardly a plot/point of focus at all, and nothing about it is worth remembering, lest you want your brain to ache with all the nonsense. It's too gritty to be called whimsy, either.
Towards the end it was an endurance test for me, and I wanted to cry out, "Please make it stop, it's too stupid, stop being so stupid, book! and I don't care anymore."
I really don't care anymore. How this became an instant classic and an award-winner of anything, even called a "masterpiece" by some, I can't fathom it. I think perhaps it's because of nostalgia that people still like it today?
Regardless, I've got nothing else. Best not to delve any deeper into this shallow insult to fantasy. I might go mad. Not 'Alice in Wonderland' fun mad, but demented.
Final Score: 0.5/5
I should have loved 'I, Coriander'. I'd been putting off reading it since its publication in 2005 and I'm not sure why. It seemed right for me. Indeed at first I thought I would love it: A loose retelling of 'Cinderella' set in England in the 17th century, full of magic, witches, fairies, princesses and queens, shadows, another realm, reflections and changes in society, and the dangers of piety and religious extremism. Like a storybook with the benefit of more modern values and dissonance. It should have been an enchanting experience; even dark and full of bloom and gloom and doom. And to give credence, some parts are well written.
But 'I, Coriander' ended up being one of the stupidest books I have ever read. Insultingly stupid, not entertainingly. As in, because its target audience is young it gives it the excuse to be shallow and lazy; to do whatever it wants with no thought to character or plot or any semblance of sense.
I don't even know where to begin. I almost want to laugh at it, because that's preferable to crying in disappointment. Maybe my teenage self was psychic and knew how dumb and hollow 'I, Coriander' was, and that's the subconscious reason for why I didn't read it then. I might have saved a large number of my brain cells - no multiple funerals for those youngin's, once full of potential.
Oh, how best to describe 'I, Coriander'?
'I, Coriander' is like 'Ella Enchanted' - the nearly-equally stupid Anne Hathaway film adaption, not the brilliant book - mixed in with Jacqueline Wilson's worst books containing her most cliched tropes, plus some rejected 'Monty Python' sketches, adding in a kitchen sink of fantasy creatures and elements that made the worldbuilding in 'Mortal Instruments' so random, cliched and incomprehensible; all molded together in Nickelodeon slime that's been in the fridge for eight weeks, inside a cauldron bought at a charity shop, and brewed by one of Diana Wynne Jones's satirical witches, or by a character from 'Pan's Labyrinth' whilst in a fever dream.
Before I get into any specific detail, a disclaimer: I won't go too much into the historical inaccuracies, because there are other reviewers who have pointed them out already. Inaccuracies such as treating Oliver Cromwell like the devil, and King Charles I and Charles II like saints (and Cromwell did not ban Christmas - no one can outright ban Christmas, it's impossible!)
Amid the baffling stupidity and trite and lazy template characterization (more on that in a bit) in 'I, Coriander' is the faux feminism. The main character, Coriander Hobie, is your typical ahead-of-her-time strong young feisty heroine, who loves books and learning, who stands up to the evil adults around her except when she can't, and never wants to marry and fall in love, despite what society (plus a bachelor set for Parliament) pressures her to do. She is nine-years-old, by the way.
Can you guess what happens? The book itself pressures Cori into a damn, shallow love story with barely any substance and chemistry with a cursed fairy prince, Tycho! There is no reason for this love story to exist. At all. Hell, Cori literally runs away with him, on the fly, in his arms, on the very last page. She becomes a man's property when she'd sworn she wouldn't be.
Pray tell, when was this warranted? What does she know about him anyway? What about her family and friends?
The prince even rides a white stallion! Yeah, I wish I was making this up, too.
I hate the romance, it is not needed. What about Cori's family drama, isn't that enough of a conflict?
I read 'I, Coriander' not long after reading 'Opal Plumstead'. The former is like the fantasy version of the latter, right down to the appalling portrayal of women, and the portrayal of men as all lovely gospels of truth and kindness and chivalry. Faux feminism and rampant misogyny - the two books would get along like wildfire
An example of the stereotypical portrayal of women in 'I, Coriander' is Cori's evil stepmother, Maud Leggs.
A moment of clarity:
Cori's beloved, mysterious, literally-too-beautiful-and-pure-for-this-world mother is dead. Her grief-stricken father is rushed into marrying almost the first woman he sees, in order to save his reputation and life, and to dispel (ha) rumours of his late wife being a witch. What is most important, however, is that his new wife isn't barren and can bear him a son. Of course.
The introduction of the stepmother is when I really started to dislike the book.
Because Maud. Oh Maud. Oh Maudy Maudy Maudy.
Every single bad thing you can think of in a fairy tale stepmother and worse - every socially-deemed bad thing to be typically attached to a woman, period - that is Maud. She was conceived to have no redeeming qualities whatsoever. She's fat, she's greedy, she's ugly, she has scars and acne, she has a piggy nose and eyes, she has black teeth, she lived in poverty before marrying Cori's father, she's uneducated, she can't read or write (and I swear Cori is the only female in the book who is literate), she smells, she's noisy, she snorts, she whines, she complains always, she's demanding, she's spoiled, she's childish, and is so extreme in her Puritanical Christianity that it is impossible to take her seriously.
Maud sees everything as sinful: pictures on walls, mirrors, and tables and chairs. I am not joking. It's like she waddled (the book's word, not mine) straight out of 'Blackadder', except you're supposed to take her as a genuine article, not a parody. At least, she's supposed to be a serious threat to Cori's life. But even people of the 1650s' wouldn't have given her the time of day. Sure, nobody likes her and they know she's mad and disgusting, but why does everyone tolerate this obviously insane person who would give the mother from 'Carrie' a run for her money?
And she abuses her daughter Hester. Cori's poor, sympathetic stepsister I will talk about later, but now, here's this line from Maud:
"I can neither read nor write, nor would I allow any girl of mine to meddle with letters. I believe that women's minds are too feeble for such things, and words only confuse them the more. Nay, I will leave the reading of the Bible and such matters to the greater minds of men." - page 64
She's a caricature, not a character.
In fact, everybody's a caricature, but that's beside the point.
Maud Leggs is just like Mrs Plumstead, except she's intended to be a villain.
Just like all religious villains as well, she's a raving hypocrite. She's vain and shallow. She's stolen, murdered, and has been an accomplice to murder, before she came to Cori's house. Every inch, every molecule of her character screams "I AM EVIL I AM EVIL LOOK AT HOW EVIL I AM I AM BAD I AM BAD THE CHURCH IS BAD I AM MAD I AM MAD I AM EVIL MAD MAD MAD EVIL EVIL EVIL CAN'T YOU TELL I AM A BAD GUY BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Children's stories deserve better, more complex and interesting villains than this.
Also, if you thought that 'I, Coriander' couldn't possibly be any more over the top, any more ridiculous in its one-dimensional antagonists, Maud's partner in crime, the evil preacher, aka the crooked man, is named Arise Fell.
Arise. Fell.
I'm done. I'm crying and positively dying of laughter. This book is too silly.
Further examples of misogyny are the portrayals of an evil queen and princess in the fairy realm. I can't even be bothered to remember their names, they're so generic. The queen is also a stepmother - memo: all stepmothers are pure evil, we get it, book. The princess, whom the prince Tycho is forced to marry in one chapter, barely appears and is never seen or mentioned again after the botched wedding. She's very fat, is unfavourably compared to a meat pie, is whiny, and only shrieks and screeches; in case you didn't get the book's other memo that pretty = good, ugly = evil.
A villains' evilness is actually all there is to remember about them. They possess no depth whatsoever.
Coriander's pretty-pretty-oh-so-pretty-and-beautiful-and-tragic mother was a princess from the fantasy world. Which makes Cori a fairy princess, too. With a fairy prince to run away with at the very end. This is all so trite and saccharine it hurts. 'I, Coriander' should come with a warning for diabetics.
Maud's daughter Hester might appear to be a positive portrayal of a female who isn't the main character at first. She is nice and is friends with Coriander, and unlike the other women and girls except Cori, she wants to learn to read and write. But it turns out that Hester is on the opposite spectrum of negative female archetypes: She's a weak, pathetic damsel in distress who gets kidnapped and is in constant need of men, and the approval of men. Men like her long-lost brother from war, Ned, who had escaped Maud, and the wise old tailor, Master Thankless, and his apprentice, Gabriel, whom she has a baby boy with (fuck, this is like 'Opal Plumstead'! Stop with these babies already! We get it: Women are nothing and their stories are not worth telling if they don't shit out tikes in their happily ever after! Fuck!)
That particular romance comes out of nowhere, too.
Hester is rendered unimportant in her own rescue, when she is the one that everyone is risking their lives to save. It is all about Gabriel and his manly heroics. The next time we see Hester after she's been dragged around, she's had a baby. Motherhood leaves Hester so pretty and angelic, going goo-goo gaga over her perfect little white baby.
All she ever needed in life to be happy was a man. Several men, even. Her mother can go fuck herself.
Every "good" female gets married at the end. This includes Danes, Cori's mother's former witch assistant and Cori's positive but ineffective mother figure, to Master Thankless. That, thrice more, comes out of the blue.
I mean, wow.
One more rant: Tycho talks infrequently of mermaids in the fairy realm in the few times we see him. Once the evil queen is defeated, he says that everything is back to normal and happy and dappy and sappy and I-feel-so-sick-what-is-this-shit-good-vs-evil-black-and-white-morality-child's-play-crap, and that the mermaids are back. But we never see them! It's tell and no show! I was told there'd be mermaids but there aren't! What is wrong with this story!?
'I, Coriander' takes itself way too seriously for such a shallow, blanket fairy tale. It's that rarity where it contains so much substance and plot, but at the same time there's hardly a plot/point of focus at all, and nothing about it is worth remembering, lest you want your brain to ache with all the nonsense. It's too gritty to be called whimsy, either.
Towards the end it was an endurance test for me, and I wanted to cry out, "Please make it stop, it's too stupid, stop being so stupid, book! and I don't care anymore."
I really don't care anymore. How this became an instant classic and an award-winner of anything, even called a "masterpiece" by some, I can't fathom it. I think perhaps it's because of nostalgia that people still like it today?
Regardless, I've got nothing else. Best not to delve any deeper into this shallow insult to fantasy. I might go mad. Not 'Alice in Wonderland' fun mad, but demented.
Final Score: 0.5/5
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