Category: book reviews

John Green Forum & the Universality of “Firsts”

On By KatieIn book reviews, Fiction, LifestyleLeave a comment

First off: a confession. I have read several books since my last blogged book review a few weeks ago, and I plan to get back to reviewing at least some of them on here soon. Many of these are classic children’s books that I have re-read this year with my daughter, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t gotten anything new out of them. In fact, I think that the best children’s books have just as many new things to offer the mind and soul when you’re older as they do when you’re a child.

And on that point, the reason for this break in book reviews is for a different kind of literary post–one that I’m completely book-nerding out about!

John Green Forum at USM

Last night, I got to go sit and listen to a forum hosted by the University of Southern Mississippi and featuring one of my very favorite authors (the author, in fact, of a recent book review published here)—John Green! John Green is best well known for his fiction which is aimed primarily at Young Adults, although his writing goes deeper and expects more of the reader than most Young Adult novels dare. His novels, while full of love and humor, touch on subjects that a lot of people feel uncomfortable discussing: grief and loss, illness, OCD, depression, anxiety and sometimes several of these at once–all under the umbrella of coming of age in this big ole’ confusing world. He’s also well known for his VlogBrothers videos (serving nerds like me since the early days of YouTube) and his more polished, but also entertaining, educational “Crash Course” videos, which engage young learners in subjects from chemistry to history.

During his speech, I got to hear Green describe his writing in his own words. He was a fantastic speaker: funny, witty, and real. He was smart, but also humble. In describing his process of writing, he kept things really simple. He said that writing should always be about “caring for the reader.” In terms of his YA novels, he said his goal is to “write books that care for readers in the unprecedented ‘firsts’ of these confusing years.”

It’s perhaps not an Earth-shattering statement, but it was one that resonated with me strongly as a lifelong reader. The best books, especially those for children/teens/young people, do care for the reader, and they do so in a way that is never lost or forgotten.

I felt the truth of that statement at 22, when I read John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars as a young adult in the process of watching my mom (who was also my best friend) be consumed by cancer. The book was also largely about cancer, loss, and grief–all things my family was experiencing for the first time. It was hard and painful to read, just as what I was going through was hard and painful. I remember that my boss at the time was horrified that I’d be reading something so sad at a time that was already full of sadness. But solidarity and understanding was what I needed then: a friend to bear the reality of that grief and pain and loss. Whenever I think of that book, I think of how it was there for me in that –a place that could handle my pain and discuss my confusion about the world not being the comfortable place I’d always assumed it to be. There are many other books that stick out to me as favorites from childhood and adolescence, too, most less serious than The Fault in Our Stars: Anne of Green Gables. Little Women, A Little Princess. Matilda, Harry Potter. The Once and Future King. As I think about it now- I realize that they all gave me something I desperately needed at the time. They were a piece of the puzzle making up who I would become.

Books that “Care for the Reader” During Our First “Firsts”

I bet if you think about this, you’ll find some similar examples. What are some of your favorite formative works of fiction? What did these books give you, that you really needed then? (Not that all children necessarily need, but what YOU needed?) It’s fascinating to consider this as a reader, and I think it’s necessary to consider if you’re an aspiring writer, too.

I also think once a book has cared for you in this way, at this sort of formative time in your life, it has earned a permanent place within you. There seems to be a transcendent gratitude that forms towards books and authors that shape you as a child and young adult. As Kathleen Kelly said, “When you read a book as a child, in shapes you in a way that no other reading in your whole life does. “

As I consider this, I also picture the packed house of John Green’s forum last night, and the variety of generations in the audience. I am solidly a millennial, the age of Green’s earliest YA readers and YouTube followers during the 2010s. There were also many people there who were younger than I am–college students and high school students with whom his work continues to resonate, 20 years later. I actually was surprised that my younger cousin, a high school student, asked if she could come with me. I didn’t know she was also a fan!

But there were older people in the audience, too–many of them! And this struck me because these are people who wouldn’t have become fans simply because they were young adults reading books made only to care for young adults. This seems to indicate something more than gratitude towards a book that has reached us right when we’re at that age of “firsts.”

The Universality of Firsts

So I thought about it, and here’s my theory. Those “firsts” are universal, and they stick with us longer than the “seconds” and “thirds.” The “firsts” are always and forever part of who we are. I think we carry those people who experienced them around with us always. To receive care through a book geared towards young people, whether it delivers the “medicine” at the time it is directly needed, or many years later when our perspectives have grown, is still very much like meeting a friend who understands and can speak to an intimate version of ourselves that will always remain.

Though we change, mature, and grow, we carry those vulnerable selves with us. I think that, in time, and when growing in the right ways, we hopefully become people who would protect and care for our former selves most fiercely. And, more importantly, who will care for those younger than us who are experiencing those firsts for themselves. But we can still find gratitude in those books that understand where we’ve been and which could have helped us then…that, in new ways, can still help us now.

And now I’m wondering if that’s why I now cry as an adult when starving Sara Crewe gives her bread to the hungrier child in A Little Princess, or when Mrs. Weasley always sends Harry a Christmas sweater too (and he wears it even when Ron throws his own sweater aside). There is something in me that will always be fiercely protective of those resonating archetypes, many of which I now see in own children. And I feel gratitude still for these characters and perspectives, though my own role in the story has shifted.

These are all just thoughts pinging around my brain on a stormy afternoon while my children (unprecedentedly) nap at the same time???!? But honestly: reading a lot of children’s literature lately, and hearing from one of my own favorite YA authors in real life, has definitely gotten me thinking about the power of Children and YA lit. I truly believe it is something special, with a power that can stay with us always.

If you’ve stuck with me this long, thanks! I’d love to know your thoughts on all of this. Leave me a comment to join in the discussion. And keep scrolling to see some pictures and a few epic things John Green said which I managed to jot down.

  • Have you read any John Green? If so, what’s your favorite book of his?
  • What is a book “cared for you” as a child, teen, or young adult? How did it impact you?
  • Do you think we carry around some version of our younger selves and/or the impact of those 1sts? How would you describe your own experience of this?

Now for Pictures, Storytime, and Some Epic John Green quotes!

After getting lost on the not-that-big campus (such is my gift) I finally gave up on any vacant visitor’s parking and grabbed a random parking spot, praying that it would not inconvenience anyone and/or earn me a ticket. We arrived right as the main auditorium was declared full and ended up in this scary-big overflow line (there were even more people behind us). I was crying inside thinking it wasn’t going to work out, but we were able to grab some of the last remaining seats thanks to some determined ushers. Then I almost cried out of gratitude.

It was a real emotional rollercoaster before any genius words were spoken, I tell you. I wore my bright red rash, as always, when under any amount of duress.

The hall could not have been more packed! I ended up sitting between two friendly strangers in the highest section of the balcony, but the view of the stage was still pretty clear. Right before putting my phone away per forum protocol, I grabbed a one-and-only photo of the man himself. (I think it’s non-professionalism vouches for it’s authenticity.) I also packed a tiny notebook, which I intended to use to jot some notes. However, I was so wrapped up in listening that I didn’t get many notes (no regrets), but I do want to share the few quotes I wrote down, following this stunningly professional picture.

In addition to discussing his writing, John Green had some truly impactful things to say about despair vs. hope. He talked about how his own experiences serving as a chaplain in a children’s hospital impacted him deeply and caused him to despair, and how the process of writing was therapeutic. He described that -even though he’s rarely written about those experiences directly- all of his books are really about that singular experience in some way or other.

“I wrote myself out of despair.”

He also encouraged anyone going through something difficult right now, or struggling to remember this key piece of advice:

“Things as they are, are not things as they will be. Keep going.”

He talked about hope as both the product of human determination and the enemy of despair, saying.

“As a worldview, despair has a weakness. It doesn’t tell the truth.”

(And)

“Sometimes it is easier to notice the bad than to notice the good. Good news happens slowly, as the result of human effort. Bad news happens all at once.”

He gave some really encouraging examples of recent good that has been accomplished based on years of human effort, but that we might not always notice in the face of immediate dark news. He also pointed out how this hope should inspire us to combat the despair, to keep going and creating good.

The whole experience of the forum is very much on my mind today! I feel inspired as a reader, writer, human– all the things. Thanks John Green for giving this lecture/Q & A and thanks to USM for inviting him!

Lastly, some #nerdfighter inspired photos because #DFTBA. If you know, you know. If you don’t know, here’s a YouTube channel.

(Last one is me getting pumped to re-read everything he’s written.)

Book Review: The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green

On By KatieIn book reviews1 Comment

My rating: 5/5 quills

I credit The Anthropocene Reviewed as the work that changed my feelings towards non-fiction, and that’s why it’s one of my top recent reads.

I have always been a fiction lover, as you can probably tell if you follow my blog. I’m particularly inclined towards literary and historical fiction and fantasy. And, I’ll be honest, as a fan of John Green’s works of fiction, I was not thrilled to discover that his latest release, The Anthropocene Reviewed, was an essay collection. Frankly, the word “ESSAYS” does not sound like it will sweep you away.

But because I love John Green’s voice as a writer, I was intrigued enough to give it a try. I’m so glad I did! I was unwillingly hooked from the very first essay, as Green digs into humanity’s role on the planet through a series of (at first) seemingly random reflections on various topics (from his fear of Geese to his love of Dr. Pepper).

The further you go into the essay collection, the more the patterns within his many essays become clear, forming one conversation that goes deep. It grasps at questions about humanity (leading to the name) and invites you to think, not just read, about things like: What makes something “real”? What is our role as humans? Why are we so powerful? Why don’t we do more with that power? 

These are not small or random questions, but they are so enjoyably and tactfully elicited in the reader through this essay collection.

Green’s conversational writing style, use of anecdotes and humor, and unabashed self-exploration made me feel as if I was fully walking in the shoes of another, learning new perspectives, and asking myself things that I’ve never considered before. That’s what great writing does!

While I have experienced this “empathy phenomenon” many times in fiction, The Anthropocene Reviewed showed me how they can be uniquely experienced in non-fiction.

I loved this book because of it’s conversational and witty tone, it’s many fun factoids, and it’s brilliantly deep layers. But I think I loved it most of all because it has opened up a whole new pathway in literature for me. If anyone could do this, I’m not shocked that it was John Green!

Book Review: Eve in Exile by Rebekah Merkle

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My rating: 3.5/5 quills

As you can tell from my quill rating, this was a “like,” but definitely not a “love.” While I know that this book is much-loved in many of my Christian circles, there are several things about it (“evidence,” examples, and tone) that weren’t appealing to me at all. That said, I do think it’s a unique and important book, as it handles many important topics with depth, complexity, and Biblical truth. Those are all wins. Now let’s dig in a little deeper. (But first I wanted to give you the chance to prepare yourself to forgive me if you love this book, and probably also to forgive me if you hate this book.)

Eve in Exile by Rebekah Merkle is a conversation starter, either way you look at it. It’s a thought-provoking, unique, counter-cultural stick of dynamite. Tackling “The Restoration of Femininity” from a Biblical lens, Merkle digs into how the diminishing of Biblical femininity has rippled through our culture, touching on everything from gender roles, having babies, not having babies, and what “homemaking,” really means.

The book stands out for its unique angle on a topic which may seem niche, but which is actually broader than it might first appear, rippling into many aspects of all of our lives.

But let me tell you, my reaction to this book was a rollercoaster.

This is noteworthy especially because, on paper, I’m the poster child for its intended audience (having much in common with the author, herself): an educated, Christian, traditionally feminine, homeschooling mom who thinks “home” is pretty special and worth sacrificing for/ investing in. Yet, even as the target audience, I had issues with Eve in Exile.

Let’s start by some of her main points, many of which I found to be logically organized and well-presented. Here are the highlights of the conversation in Eve in Exile:

1. Gender Roles and Definitions.
Merkle presents a strong argument for distinct gender roles, suggesting equality shouldn’t mean “sameness.” I enjoyed her discussion of boundaries, differences, and excellence as she explored how “the lines define and create a space where excellence can thrive.”

2. Feminist Movements’ Impact.
She focuses not just on the what of women’s basic rights as humans (which she does agree with), but the how and why (which she does not agree with). She goes on to describe how the “how and why” of the Feminist movements have invoked many problems in our current culture, including:
-Celebrating selfishness over selflessness
-Separating sexuality from motherhood, devaluing both as a result.
-Creating a culture that no longer values what femininity actually is, because it’s so focused on making women just like men.
-Making a mockery of the traditional “homemaker” role which is often seen as either sloppy and depressing (think: the millennial mom Instagram trope based on her description) or as a 1950s stereotype (think: a superficial and purposeless existence based on her description).
-How this all leads to a gaping, black hole of overall purposelessness.

3. God’s Design for Women.
This is where Merkle shines, emphasizing women’s unique, God-given roles. She discusses how equality is harmonious when women and men have distinctive roles. She does a really excellent job showing the importance of both, how our current culture may not value one as much of the other (much needed validation, moms), but how we can re-claim ownership of Biblical femininity and find great satisfaction and joy in doing so (I was thinking: “OK. YES. LET’S GO!)

4. Understanding Biblical Submission.
To me, this section was the most dynamic, potentially bombshell, and most well-handled part of the book. Merkle tackles two controversial passages of Scripture which are often mishandled (either denied or misinterpreted): 1 Corinthians 11 (“Woman was created for man”), and Titus 2:3-5, which describes the role of Biblical women in society. My hackles raised slightly here when I realized what she was getting into, but I read it, nonetheless. I have to say that her discussion of these Scriptures is uniquely well done, and worth a read if you are a Christian woman. It’s counter-cultural, but Biblically grounded and convincing. The Biblical perspective here is what makes it so good AND EVEN NON-OFFENSIVE (if you are a Christ-follower.) Ultimately, this section glories Biblical womanhood by comparing it to the life of Christ.

While I think these major points were well-done and worth reading if you are a Christian woman, my praise comes with some serious reservations (and a few eyerolls). Here are some reasons I struggled with Eve in Exile:

1. So Much Stereotyping, Generalizations, and Negativity.
One major issue with the book is its tendency toward stereotyping, generalizing, and a negative tone against entire groups of women. This is particularly evident in the discussion of the 1950s housewife. Merkle portrays these women as vapid and unfulfilled, their meaningful work supposedly replaced by gadgets, diminishing their role as home keepers. While I understood her initial point, her continued portrayal devolves into a demeaning stereotype of an entire generation of women.


For example, Merkle uses “the casserole” as a recurring symbol of lazy homemaking, frequently associating it with the 1950s housewife, whom she describes as preoccupied with just “throwing a casserole in the oven and looking nice.” This oversimplification does a disservice to the complexity of women’s lives. Many women found, and still find, fulfillment in caring for their families and homes. (If they can now, as she argues, then why couldn’t some then?) Additionally, it overlooks the fact that some women had jobs, often facing unfair treatment.


Her suggestion that greater respect and happiness would have come during this time for women if only they had found greater joy in, and worked harder at, their homemaking roles in the ’50s, instead of entering the workforce. (SERIOUSLY??? Let’s go talk to June Cleaver about this one.)

2. Use of Questionable Statistics
Merkle also uses questionable statistics to support her arguments. For example, she compares the rates of antidepressant use among women in the 1950s to the present, insinuating that women are less happy now due to their participation in the workforce. (It was a rise of about 3%). This comparison is super flawed, given the significant changes in mental health awareness and treatment since the 1950s. 3% is barely a fluctuation, especially given that everyone and their dog has a therapist today, whereas it was a lot less common in the 1950s. The fact that she even uses this example as “evidence” undermines her point.

3. Lack of Depth in Examples
Lastly, and perhaps most disappointingly, Merkle fails to get personal and go deep when it really counts. More personal accounts would have added so much to the whole book, but particularly when Merkle delves into the essence of Biblical femininity. She starts this section strong, offering a compelling view of women as translators of the immaterial into physical, beautiful experiences. She uses the strong example of how women create the experience of Christmas to highlight the meaning of Christmas.
However, her examples beyond that fall short, focusing on cooking, interior design, and dressing well as pinnacles of Biblical womanhood. (Really?) This approach paradoxically reinforces the very stereotype of the 1950s housewife—focused on surface-level tasks—that she earlier criticizes. A deeper exploration, perhaps including personal anecdotes from her own life and journey, would have added significant much-needed impact to this section.

In essence, I do think Eve in Exile is a worthwhile read for the Christian woman, but I can only recommend it with some caveats. It’s insightful, unique, thought-provoking, and grounded in a strong Biblical foundation. Yet, it sometimes slips into stereotypes and misses the mark in fully exploring the depth of its subject. In other words, its tone often undermines the message itself. It’s a book that will resonate with some, challenge others, and leave many, like me, feeling a blend of strong agreement, frustration, and the occasional eye-roll.

On By KatieIn book reviewsLeave a comment

The Duke and I by Julia Quinn

My rating: 2.5/5 Quills

Dear Reader,
I have a confession to make—one that evokes a deep blush. Yet, in keeping with my commitments to our reading blog society, I feel compelled to share it with you. In my quest of finishing a book per week, my second novel of 2024 is quite different from my usual literary fare. It is, in fact, The Duke and I, the first novel in Julia Quinn’s Regency romance series, Bridgerton.

Perhaps you have watched the Netflix adaptation?

The series follows the high-society Bridgerton siblings as they navigate the social sphere of Regency era London. All happenings (both secret and not secret) are reported in an infamous society gossip column, written by the mysterious “Lady Whistledown.”

The Duke and I is a love story between the innocent, kind-hearted, and perceptive Daphne Bridgerton, and the worldly, handsome, tortured Duke of Hastings, also known as Simon. Simon has a tragic past. Daphne has a happy one. It’s one of those Beauty and the Beast situations from the outset.

First, reader, I must tell you. This is a Regency romance, in every sense of the word, and this is not usually my cup of tea. I love a good love story, but I generally feel uncomfortable being thrust into that part of other people’s lives (even fictional ones). I feel like I’ve walked into someone’s bedroom accidentally, and I’m just not a fan of that. As I said: blushing.

However, if the story and/or characters are good, and the love story is compelling, I feel more open to a thoughtful use of love scenes. And ultimately, I felt that they were mostly thoughtfully used in this book: to emphasize key parts of the love story instead of being the whole love story. The Regency era setting also feels authentic, the tone is witty and enjoyable, and the characters are likable.

Without too many spoilers, here is the gist of the novel. Young Daphne Bridgerton and the Duke of Hastings, despite being quite opposite, strike up a friendship and decide it will be to their mutual benefit to feign a courtship. The Duke hopes that this faux-courtship will deter socialite mothers from thrusting their daughters upon him. Daphne hopes that appearing to have caught the season’s most eligible bachelor will make her look more desirable. Their plan works, but, of course, things become more complicated. The four main drivers of these complications are:

  1. The Duke, who hates his late father, has sworn to never marry and never, ever have children (denying the estate the heir that his father would have wanted).
  2. Daphne’s only dream is to have a family, and children, of her own.
  3. The two fall in love.
  4. They are forced to marry when they are caught in a compromising situation.

    That’s it. That’s basically the plot. There’s not a lot happening, but what does happen is well done. Ultimately, I cared about Simon and his background. I wanted him to overcome his hate. I was rooting for Daphne. She was innocent and naive, but also intuitive and wise—a realistic and interesting heroine. The chemistry between them was sweet and fun to read.
    Would I recommend it to everyone? NO! This book is a little bit like Jane Austen Cliff Notes with some sugar and chipotle powder sprinkled on top. However, the thoughtful historical details and character development lend it enough substance to rise above the typical ‘romance novel.’
    It’s well-written, but lacking much depth. That said, I mostly enjoyed it. I enjoyed it enough to finish it, anyway. It’s not amazing literature. However, if I considered it to be bad literature, I wouldn’t have finished it and would not be writing this at all.

    Ultimately, reader, The Duke and I was a bit like a tea time macaron: sweet, light, non-hearty fare that’s not for everyone, but may make a nice treat for some.

    View all my reviews

Book Review: The Christie Affair by Nina de Gramont

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A flapper-esque woman in pearls on the cover. A 1920s disappearance. A work of historical fiction based on the life of mystery icon, Agatha Christie. I’ll be honest: the cover, and the jacket-flap summary, won me over. However, ‘The Christie Affair’ by Nina de Gramont turned out to be something different than I initially expected.

This novel is a character-driven, slow-burning tale. While the story’s hook is to explore the whereabouts of Christie during her famous two-week disappearance with no explanation, the bulk of the story revolves around a supposed reason for her disappearance: her husband’s mistress, Nan.

As the story unfolds, it sets a stage with distinctive characters clearly in the spotlight. The two primary women, Nan and Agatha, seem to have few things in common on the surface, but they are connected in surprising ways. Agatha’s husband, Archie, is a truly love-to-hate-him character, reminiscent of Tom Buchanan from ‘The Great Gatsby’. The inspector on the case of Agatha’s disappearance, Chiltern, gives strong nods to Christie’s famous detective, Hercule Poirot. Lastly, Finbarr, a tragic, war-torn, childhood love of Nan’s, adds complexity and uncertainty to the whole.

The setting and style of the story are very believably 1920s, reminiscent of works written during that time. Even more impressive is how the style of ‘The Christie Affair’ mimics the work of Agatha Christie herself. This lineup of memorable characters, while initially only mildly interconnected, becomes closely tangled as one mystery unfolds into many more—ultimately leading to the revelation of unexpected connections, motives, crimes, and resolutions. Interestingly, and perhaps appropriately, Christie’s character is more background to the main actions of the story. Her disappearance focuses more on internal resolutions, showcased by her furious writing throughout. The reader will be much more caught up in the mysteries surrounding the true main character, Nan.

Ultimately, this book is more than it seems; it’s not just a cozy mystery, or a fabulous homage to Agatha Christie, but also a portrait of how we all, to some degree, write the mysteries we present to, or hide from, the world.

I give The Christie Affair 4/5 quills!

Have you read The Christie Affair? What did you think? (Personally, it made me want to add some Agatha Christie books to my Good Reads list!)

P.S. Yes, it’s me! I’m still here! I’ve been freelancing blogging so much for other people over the past couple of years, but I’m back to my personal blog to keep in touch with writing (and reading) that I do for my own self. I am not calling it a “2024 resolution”…despite the fact that this review comes on 1/1/2024 along with the desire to read and review one book a week this year. I’m not calling it that. Regardless, I hope it will turn out that way. Anyway, I anticipate this blog being more book-centric this year. Thanks for being here!

Thoughts on Greenlights by Matthew McConaughey

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I’m new to this whole celebrity bio genre, so I don’t really know how to define my expectations for this book: life of a celebrity who has done crazy things, cowboy gone Hollywood lifestyle? What do I know about Matthew, really? Abs? Rom coms? Interstellar (that was a good movie…) It’s not something I’d normally pick up, but I was surprised to hear it so highly recommended by several people whose opinions I respect. Then we decided to read it in my book club, so I dove in.

I decided to listen to the audiobook, and as soon as Matthew started diving into his rollicking childhood in this unexpected-Texan-poet-of-all-honesty way, I was hooked.

What is this book? I don’t know. Like the main “character,” it doesn’t really fit into any boxes you’d expect. It’s a collection of stories from a very interesting life. It’s a lesson, shown via stories, about being objective, and getting relative, keeping yourself going when life is hard–and (most interestingly) keeping yourself grounded when it’s a little too smooth. It’s about the need to pursue, balanced with the need to restore.

In tone, it’s honest, not preachy. It’s poetic, a little mystical, and laugh-out-loud funny.

I came away with a few takeaways, and as I talked with other people about the book, I thought it was interesting to see how different pieces of insights and observations stuck to and hit us differently. There are simply so many of what Matthew calls “bumper stickers,” in this book–tidbits of things he’s learned and wants to remember.

And here’s the thing. I may not 100% agree with every single one of Matthew’s bumper stickers. There are some people out there who don’t and won’t like this one because of that. However, I’d argue that the point is that I don’t have to agree with every thought to appreciate the whole. This is the author’s story, and he’s not telling anyone else how to live theirs. In fact, I think that’s one reason that this book works so well, and why it’s so clever in a year where everyone is eager to tear each other apart over different opinions. He’s simply a living character, telling his story.

The interest and the connection isn’t grown from a perfect leading man, but from from a complex and likeable one, with an interesting journey to share.

In the journey of this book, we experience and reflect on how life can have its greenlights, yellow lights, and red lights. We see and understand– along with a reflective Matthew– how each of these presents different opportunities. It might also leave you (as it did me) with a desire to document things more, so that one day you can look back on it and see what you couldn’t in the (then) present moment.

Just as in works of fictional literature that I love, I find – in Greenlights – a compelling non-fictional character, pieces to connect with, and eye-opening perspectives. I’d recommend this book to anyone who enjoys a good time and a little down-to-earth whiskey wisdom.

20 Atmospheric Autumn Reads

On By KatieIn book reviews, creative writing, Uncategorized2 Comments

…(An Alliterative Appellation)

…(Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.)

Hello fellow readers, and happy October! Something about Autumn, I think, is especially appealing to literary folk. C’mon: some adventurous novels, blue skies, chilly air?

OR

Dark, rainy nights, pumpkin spice candles, and a glass of Merlot served alongside mysterious and chilling tales?

You guys know what I’m talking about.

‘Tis the reading season.

Awhile back, I comprised a list of autumn reads for kids/ teens for Hip Homeschool moms. (You can read that one on their Website, here.)

When I shared the list with a friend, she asked me what my autumn book list would be for adults. Not like “for adults,” but more like the, “unedited version.”

While all of the classics from my teen list would remain (because let’s be honest, most of us can still enjoy kid and YA fiction), there are also some fall-ish novels that I love but wouldn’t feel comfortable openly recommending for YA (and under) readers.  Below, you’ll find a mix of all of the above making up my top 20 autumnal reads.

20-atmospheric-autumn-reads

Autumn Classics (These are for Pretty Much Everyone.)

1.Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte- a unique heroine,  a mansion with a dark secret, the test of love between two passionate souls, and a touch of magical realism that seems unique to the setting of North England. Jane Eyre is of my favorites anytime, but especially in fall and winter.

2. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte– Those Bronte sisters really knew how to weave together the feelings of a conflicted heart alongside the mystery of the English moors.  Oh, Heathcliff—in high school I loved you, and as an adult I love to hate you. I still read about you and Cathy every year, though; your tortured and unhealthy relationship is undeniably haunting.

3.  Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier–  Again with that Cornish setting. But can anyone argue that the misty moors and the roar of the cold English ocean is just plain exciting and mysterious and lends itself so completely to thrilling and slightly spooky stories like Du Maurier’s Rebecca?  Okay, no arguments? Good. (Sidenote: I can’t wait for the Netflix film version coming out later this month…just another reason you need to read this book this October!)

4. I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith- An uber cozy 1930s account of an English girl who aspires to be a writer and chronicles the eccentric characters and happenings around her. Yes, I know–another British one. *Anglophile alert*

5. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald- Hey, it’s an actual American novel (Arguably one of THE American novels.) Gatsby is another favorite novel of mine anytime of the year, and it’s arguably a perfect summer OR autumn read. The thrilling roar of summertime and its dreams takes up most of the book’s premise, but the momentum leads to the fateful first fall of the leaves…the end of summer and its illusions (and delusions).

Autumn YA Novels that Adults Will Enjoy Too

(Because Adults Actually Read Just as Many YA Novels As Teens Do)

6. Shiver (and Wolves of Mercy Falls Series) by Maggie Stiefvater –Not just another paranormal werewolf romance story. This New York Times Bestselling Author totally gets the raw emotions of first love. It’s a sweet and beautifully melancholy tale.

7. The Mortal Instruments Series by Cassandra Clare- You know that metallic, green book you’ve seen at Target with the washboard bare torso of a young guy on the cover? Yes, I’m actually putting that book (and the rest of the series) on my list as  guilty pleasure-reads for autumn (but hey, I’m listing them all as “one” book. ) I’m not sure who was in charge of marketing/cover layouts, but The Mortal Instruments is only slightly about dudes with abs. It’s a fun supernatural series with lots of action and witty banter: a fun series for some bathtub reading on a chilly day.

8. Wintersong by S. Jae. Jones- Labyrinth meets Phantom of the Opera! I actually reviewed this one here. It’s a dark fairy-tale that fantasy lovers will gobble up.

9. The Diviners by Libba Bray- I’m actually reading this one right now: 1920s Manhattan, mysterious murders, a plucky flapper heroine, supernatural bumps in the night. Libba Bray is a great writer, and this book is actually pretty darn creepy for a YA novel. The characters are very teenager-ly…but the story is pretty adult (kind of like her Gemma Doyle series).

10. Warm Bodies by Issac Marion- Just your typical little post-apocalyptic  love story/comedy/commentary on human nature (narrated by a Zombie.) Whatever.

11. The Beekeeper’s Apprentice by Laurie R King – While not technically written for a Young Adult audience, this story is definitely appealing/appropriate for teens or adults. It’s a super cozy and engaging introduction to King’s Beekeeper series, which follows a retired Sherlock Holmes and the bright, young woman who becomes his assistant.

12. THE HARRY POTTER SERIES by J. K. Rowling- If you haven’t read Harry Potter then you should. It’s okay to re-read it whenever you want, especially in fall. That’s all I have to say about that.

Not Your Kiddo’s Halloween Booklist (I think the category speaks for itself)

13. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon- Sweeping and kind of steamy historical/romance/adventure/quasi-fantasy that you’ve all probably heard of (because, you know, Starz). Because there’s some rough stuff in it, I don’t recommend Outlander to everyone, even though I personally have enjoyed what I’ve read of the series. The first books starts out with Clare stepping through standing stones in the Highlands during the feast of Samhain (Gaelic Halloween), which is one of the things that makes the first novel of this series a great October read.

14. Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman– A profound, weird, creepy, adult collection of fantastical short stories. A dash of spooky and a dollop of thoughtfulness.

15. Dead Before Dawn (A Sookie Stackhouse novel) Charlaine Harris- A Cajun-infused chick-lit romance/ blood-and-gore/ mystery/ vampire novel. A little bit of a guilty pleasure but super fun (and amazingly successful given the amount of genre crossover).

16. Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice- Arguably the most iconic vampire novel since Dracula. It’s fascinating and dark and compelling.

17. Dracula by Bram Stoker- This year was actually my first year reading Dracula (with my bookclub!) It was a slow-starter, but once I was hooked I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. It felt much more “mystery” to me than horror. Teen kids would be okay reading this one, actually.

18.- 19.  Rules of Magic/ Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman! I wrote a whole post about this series already! Read it here. 

20. Magic Lessons by Alice Hoffman-the prequel to the last two books I mentioned! It’s currently next up on my nightstand, and I can’t wait.

There are so many books springing to mind now that I’m calling this list “done.” However, 20 seems like a good place for me to stop…for now. How about you? What are some books that scream autumnal, Halloweenish mystery to you?

I look forward to hearing about them!

-Katie

Alice Hoffman’s Most Magical Novels

On By KatieIn book reviews, Uncategorized1 Comment

“There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.” 
― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

practical magic

The Owens women from Practical Magic  (film version) were a little formative for me as a teen and young adult. Being a Christian, it may seem a little weird to some of my friends that I found a film about witchcraft to be so influential, but there it is.

(BTW: If you have never seen this film, Halloween season is the best time to watch it.)

Practical Magic is a wonderfully 90s (I love the clothes) fantasy/drama is about two sisters whom  rely on one another and ultimately set themselves free from a centuries-old curse. The curse? Any man they fall in love with will die. (There’s also a really evil boyfriend who gets killed, necromanced, and then killed for good.)

I fell in love with facets of the film: eccentric, maiden aunts in a Victorian house,  chocolate cake for breakfast (and midnight margaritas) , a garden by the sea full of lavender and rosemary,  the strong bond of sisterhood,  potions in the form of lotion and shampoo (before EOs were cool), and notion of cursed love.

For me, these elements wove a spell of mischief, whimsy and melancholy that my young INFP heart found undeniable appeal in. Despite the B-rating Rotten Tomatoes gives this movie, I don’t think I was alone in this. I know so many people who still love this film today, and I’d argue that it is possibly even a cult classic.

So, when I finally started reading Alice Hoffman’s book Practical Magic (the inspiration for the film) a few years ago, I was initially a little disappointed. Sally and Gillian, the sisters, did engage me in the way that I expected.  I actually preferred the film characters to their literary counterparts, which is an extremely unusual occurrence for me.

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But by the time I finished reading Practical Magic, I decided that I actually loved the book. I just loved it in a different way than I expected.

“Writing itself was a magical act in which imagination altered reality and gave form to power.” 
― Alice Hoffman, The Rules of Magic

 Hoffman often writes in the genre of magical realism, and she nails it.  She blends together the real world and elements of magic so completely that, as a reader, the whole thing becomes seamless.

It is all real. It is all magic. 

Something that definitely helps with this is her ability to craft a vivid setting for the worlds in her books. In the case of Practical Magic (and the prequel, The Rules of Magic), much of this hinges on the Owen’s family home: an old house, on an ordinary street, where even the dust motes seem brimming with magic.

Even more so,  Hoffman excels at crafting the world of her story around a theme.  The way she does this, especially in conjunction with the genre of magical realism, gives the adult reader a special gift: a novel that speaks to the heart in a way that only a true fairy tale can–revealing truths dark and deep, bright and sparkling. As someone who devours fiction, this is what I love.

rules of magic

So when The Rules of Magic, long-awaited prequel to Practical Magic, came out a couple of years ago, I had already pre-ordered it.

Almost as soon as I Rules of Magic, I was hooked. I loved many of the same things about it as Practical Magic: the world-building, the  omens, raw bits of wisdom, the whimsical tone.

But there were new things that immediately drew me in, too. The setting of 1960s New York was fascinating, and I found myself much more engaged with the characters (younger versions of the aunts in Practical Magic, and their brother, Vincent.)

What I loved the most, though, was the way Rules of Magic took the web of themes that we find in Practical Magic and went deeper, simultaneously dissecting  and expanding upon them. 

There are many kinds of love explored in this work and – at the center of it all – heartbreak and startling truth. Two truths, especially, spoke to me in both of these books.

  1. Love is a curse.
  2. The only way to survive the curse of love is to love more.

If you’ve lost someone that you love, you’ll recognize this “curse” and the way it plays out for the Owens sisters within their fantastical setting.  You know what it is to lie awake at night and fear the inevitable: that this curse of love is one that you will meet again and again.

There is nothing you can do to escape it. It is a fearful, heavy thought—more than sadness: horror. It does feel like a curse. It’s something that not everyone understands–until they experience a major loss for themselves. At some point, we all realize that it’s a curse we will have to live with.

“I’m fated to lose everyone I ever love,” April said. “I already know that.” “Of course you are,” Jet responded in her calm, measured tone. “That’s what it means to be alive.” 
― Alice Hoffman, The Rules of Magic

It is tempting to reach the same conclusion that the characters in Practical Magic/The Rules of Magic do at various times in the the narrative: don’t love at all, and the curse will be irrelevant.

However, as Hoffman explores in this duo of grown-up fairy tales: to attempt to resist love totally is to truly fall under the power of the curse. Yes, the curse of love is real, but the only way to break free of the curse it to continue to choose love, over and over again.

“Know that the only remedy for love is to love more.” 
― Alice Hoffman, The Rules of Magic

It’s a hard lesson to explain, one of those things you don’t get until you feel it. One of the reasons I love fiction is that it allows us to feel and understand things as though we’ve experienced them. It creates empathy with others and helps us to understand ourselves more deeply, too.

Don’t take my word for it though. Read it. I’d say read them both, but if you have to pick one, I’d go with The Rules of Magic.

Furthermore, read them now, because Alice Hoffman’s newest addition to this collection, Magic Lessons is coming out on October 6th!
(I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m a little excited about it.)
“Love someone and they love you in return, you ruin your lives together. That is not a curse, it’s what life is, my girl. We all come to ruin, we turn to dust, but whom we love is the thing that lasts.” 
― Alice Hoffman, The Rules of Magic

Midnight Sun: A Case for Bella.

On By KatieIn book reviewsLeave a comment

“You don’t see yourself very clearly, you know.”

These words, uttered from the (“perfect”) lips of sparkly vampire, Edward Cullen, to the disbelieving ( and presumably very normal) ears of a clumsy, teenage girl named Bella, made an entire generation of fiction-devouring adolescent girls swoon.

I know this, because I was there. Okay, fine.

I was one of them.

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You have to understand, that Twilight (because of course, I’m referring to Stephanie Meyer’s outrageously popular, Twilight Saga) was the first of the many YA supernatural love stories of its kind. Despite the fact that it essentially gave birth to a whole new sub-genre, aspects of Twilight’s formula were very old and almost (like Edward himself) antiquated. 

It’s apparent (via numerous literary references within the Twilight saga) that part of the intent of the series was to re-imagine the kind of love-at-first sight/ forbidden love story that one finds in classic tales like Romeo and Juliet, or the more gothic– Wuthuring Heights. It had that whole instantaneous, “you are my soul mate” kind of love  + the whole “We can’t be together. It would never work” thing.

“I love you. It is torture to be with you.”

“I’m like, literally dying to be with you.”

You get it: Good, old-fashioned, love angst, set in modern times.

Plus the stakes were higher than ever, because – in Edward and Bella’s case- they truly could not be together. I mean, Edward is literally torn between his desire to protect Bella or eat her. (It kind of takes the “all consuming love” thing to the next level.)

And maybe this antiquated, almost parodic level of love angst is the reason that.

  1. Teen girls were immediately obsessed with Twilight.
  2. Just a few years (and an awkward film series later) people whole-heartedly scoff at Twilight. The super intense love of two teens (one who is actually 107) comes off as a bit…errr…creepy.  “What modern girl would let herself fall into such an unhealthy, all-consuming relationship?” asks the once-obsessed teen girls who are now in their twenties.

Let’s explore that, shall we?

Enter Midnight Sun

Over a decade later (actually more like 15 years) Midnight Sun follows the exact same plot as Twilight, only this time, it’s from Edward’s perspective.

My initial thoughts when I found out that this long-rumored re-imagination (which was temporarily shelved when it got leaked about 10 years ago) was finally making it’s appearance, I thought it was pretty brilliant.

Honestly? 2020 is a great year for the release of Midnight Sun.

We could all use a little nostalgia + escapism, and this “return to Twilight,”  novel presents itself as just that. 

So I read it. There was definitely some nostalgia. There were also some dramatic eyerolls. Ultimately, however, there was a big surprise in Midnight Sun, too, as I realized that it took me back to my younger self in  unexpected ways that turned out to be surprisingly important. 

Firstly, let me say that the book is advertised as “Twilight from Edward’s perspective,” it is pretty much exactly that, plot-wise. There are a few minor detours from the familiar story because we are traveling through this book with a different character, but nothing that really changes the story. 

At times I got annoyed because much of the dialogue was exactly the same. Come on, we can be a little more creative, can’t we?

However, that’s not to say that the story itself didn’t change. In fact, what struck me about Midnight Sun was how much it changed because our point of view (and therefore perception) of the characters is changed…and also, perhaps, because how much us- the core audience – has changed.

First, let’s talk about Edward. I re-read Twilight a few years ago, and as a late- twenty-something, the constant references to, “Edward’s perfect lips,” had me in stitches. What kind of unbelieveable leading man is this? I thought. How did I ever fall for this level of flat-ness?

But in Midnight Sun, Edward is very deliberately not a perfect character.

For starters, he’s controlling, perfectionist and has obvious anger issues. Plus, he actually does want to eat his girlfriend (sometimes).  Told from Edward’s perspective, this truly becomes more of a “Beauty and the Beast” story, wherein we care a lot less that  the Beast is attractive and a lot more about the fact that he’s recovering cannibal.

Think Kiefer Sutherland Batman, but from 1917. And sparkly. Touch of Hannibal. That’s about right.

While we already had hints of the other personality traits in Twilight (we just ignored them, because “hotness.”) Edward’s also surprisingly insecure. He’s anxious and probably OCD, and we see how the sort of arrogant façade that we got from Twilight is a direct response to those underlying insecurities. 

Essentially, in Midnight Sun, Edward is actually better, more complicated character.  I think this gets a lot closer to the original Heathcliff mark that Meyer was probably aiming for with Twilight.

We also finally see, from this perspective, how Bella changes him from the inside out. I don’t know about you, but I never found that part of this sparkly vampire saga to be believable. 😉 

Essentially, Midnight Sun is much more fascinating, from a character development standpoint, than it’s companion novel, and I found that it made the love story more understandable, too.

And a big reason the love story becomes more believable is that we finally see and understand Bella’s value through Edward’s eyes, which brings me to the most important thing I got from reading Midnight Sun.

Bella really didn’t see herself clearly, and – as a generation of young, female Twi-hard readers- neither did we. 

For years now, there’s been this joke about Bella being the “flat” character that was relatable to all teen girls. The theory goes that she is so bland that any reader can slide into her perspective easily, which is why the book was so instantly popular, (and maybe why it’s popularity didn’t hold up as well over time.)

For a long time, I believed this too. However, after reading Midnight Sun, I realize that (at least after a period of reflection on the author’s part) Bella isn’t an “anyone” character.

She’ s just quiet.  She’s not cardboard; she’s simply a wallflower. From Edward’s perspective in Midnight Sun, I think we get a clearer image of the character envisioned by the author: we see her as shy, selfless, stubborn, smart, family-oriented, bookish, responsible and a bit insecure. She’s sort of a Season One Rory (for the Gilmore Girls fans). 

 

She’s not every girl.

However, I do think she represents a certain set of teenage girl.

The girls who would have picked up a gothic-inspired love story in Books-A-Million in the early 2000s. The good girls. The bookish girls. The girls who absorbed classic novels on the beach and observed everything that happened in the local coffee shop. The girls who hadn’t quite figured out who they were yet, but who wanted to be seen for the strong, quiet potential that they had. These are the girls who would have become instant Twi-hards. These are the girls whom Bella was designed to represent (and I was definitely one of those girls, in case you are wondering). 

From this angle, I come to see finally that I was wrong, all those years ago, thinking that boring Bella doesn’t deserve “perfect” Edward.

Bella was simply unformed, surfacing. The Bella we meet in Midnight Sun could have been or done anything in future years, and I came away from this novel feeling kind of sad that she never got a chance to realize her value, just as she was.

All of these thoughts lead me to the final conclusion that, maybe as a generation of bookish teenage girls reading Twilight, we fell into that same pattern that Edward rightly accused Bella of:

Maybe we didn’t see ourselves clearly. We didn’t see our worth, or that the processes we were going through had value in helping to develop our adult selves.

And maybe these traits and insecurities were part of the reason we even became Twi-hards in the first place, drawn to a story where that sort of quiet value was desirable and powerful to an inhumanly “perfect” leading man.

You might say that I’m going too far with this, or digging too deep.

Maybe I am, but I really don’t think so. Partially this is because Stephanie Meyer’s introduction to Midnight Sun specifically addresses the target audience as readers who were teens when Twilight came out, but whom are now adults living (hopefully full) lives.

As time passes, we all find things that we left hanging, that we wish we could go back and say, or that we wish we’d realized at the time.

For Meyer, I have to think that perhaps she wanted to use this reboot as an opportunity to  address complaints about her characters–to show that Edward was never too perfect or that Bella was never an “anygirl.”

For me, seeing these iconic characters differently gave me a chance to think about things that I hadn’t realized were left hanging, instilling a new respect for the quiet, bookish girl who didn’t think she was good enough. Reading it, I glimpsed my own seventeen year old self through a different lens. 

Is Midnight Sun a great book? Not especially.  Ultimately, I’d only recommend it to the audience to whom it was dedicated—those who read Twilight in years past. However, I think if you did read and enjoy Twilight at any point, reading Midnight Sun is both nostalgic and interesting as a character development experiment and as a vessel of self-reflection.

It’s amazing what you can get out of a familiar story by simply finding a new perspective.

 

4 Ways “Mary Poppins Returns” Gets it Right

On By KatieIn book reviews, Uncategorized2 Comments

Mary Poppins: the icon responsible with so many things that we now associate with British culture, nannies, and childhood in general. She is both no-nonsense (perhaps just as “keep calm and carry on,” as the Queen herself) and whimsical (she’s got Elizabeth II beat on that one). She floats calmly into a family, shakes the foundations down to a crumble, and begins the necessary task of building it back again…making herself unnecessary in the process. Her tools are a mixture of musical numbers, sensibility, life lessons, and instruction in magical (if seemingly random) skills such as jumping into chalk portraits and chimney sweeping in the clouds.

(Because, you know, it’s a jolly holiday with Mary.)

The Banks children aside, this woman was an important figure in the childhood of millions. So when Disney decided to make a sequel, Mary Poppins Returns, I think  a lot of us felt afraid.  Personally, I wanted to love it because I wanted more Mary Poppins in my life. But, remaking a classic? That is very tricky, especially when you are messing with an icon like Mary.

Play it too safe, and you risk the result feeling like a boring parody of the original. Go too far outside of the box- either with the character, the tone, or the plot-and you are going to make a lot of dedicated fans very grumpy.

Still, I wanted to see it, and I  *finally* did a few days ago.  Despite the fact that several people have called this film, “practically perfect,” I was a little skeptical and tried to go into it with few expectations.  However, I was shocked by how quickly this film won me over.  Having given it a little consideration, here are 4 ways I think Mary Poppins Returns completely gets it right.

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1.Emily Blunt IS Mary Poppins, but she is not  Julie Andrew’s Mary Poppins. 

Personally, my biggest fear about this film was that it would be pretty much impossible to do a believable Mary Poppins character that didn’t feel like a lackluster Julie Andrew’s impersonation. How do you even separate Julie Andrews and Mary Poppins?  Fortunately, Emily Blunt owns this character in a way that is completely outside of a Julie-shaped box.

All of the Mary Poppin’s character qualities are there (kind but extremely firm, always in control of the game, full of magical surprises, rosy cheeks etc.) but her mannerisms are different.  One of the first ways this comes through immediately is in Blunt’s more aristocratic-sounding British accent and some jazzier singing moments (which also reflects the film’s time period of the 1930s).  Stylistic choices like these helped me immediately separate Emily Blunt’s Mary Poppins from Julie Andrew’s, which allowed me to get into the film more quickly and easily.

 2.  The Plot Follows the Original Formula 

Saying that a movie is “formulaic,” is rarely a compliment. However, certain movie genres can get away with it, and children’s films are one of them. Mary Poppins Returns uses heavy-handed formula in its favor. Keeping things spoiler-free, let’s just say it like this: if you were to take Mary Poppins  and Mary Poppins Returns and break them both down into a timeline categorized into “events, reactions, and musical numbers,” you would have two identical timelines. Identical. Therefore, while many things about the sequel are different from the original, the experience of watching Mary Poppins Returns is extremely familiar.

Surprisingly, this doesn’t translate badly. Instead, is clear that the structure is intentional, and it reminded me of the way that children’s book series often keep the same formula while mixing up the details. Since Mary Poppins springs from the children’s book series by P.L. Travers, this seems appropriate.  More importantly, the familiar effect is grounding.

3. Balance in the details. 

Of course, Mary Poppins Returns would be a really boring movie if it had an identical plot formula AND the same events, issues, characters, etc. Instead, there are new experiences to enjoy in this film, ones which are relevant to the particular needs of the main characters in MP Returns.  Often, these build on something familiar to the original film and take it in an unexpectedly delightful new direction, such as when the children
“pop into” a pottery piece in their nursery:  a callback that provides viewers with a particularly  amazing bit of new animation  while also teaching us something about the children and moving the particulars of the plot forward.

I also thought it was important that the father (grown-up Michael Banks) in this story has a very different relationship with his children than George Banks did in the original. This, in turn affects the lessons that the children need to learn.  Still, there are very nostalgic and appropriately-placed ties to the original that are thoughtfully and powerfully utilized. (Tiny spoilers: these include, but are not limited to, a certain green kite and an appearance by Dick van Dyke.)

4.  The Music

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert in music or musicals.  That said, here are some of my most important criteria for “a good musical:”

  1. Does the music take me on an emotional journey that mirrors the plot? Does it have me grinning like an idiot, crying, and toe-tapping within the span of 2-3 hours?
  2. Do the songs get lodged in my brain AND (see 3.)
  3. Do I continue to listen to the soundtrack despite the fact that the songs have already been in my head on loop for days? (?!)

This movie definitely ticks those boxes for me, from the tear-inducing ballad, “Where the Lost Things Go,” to the bouncy, joyful “Trip a Little Light Fantastic.”  I’ve been singing, listening, dancing to, and feeling emotional about the songs since seeing the film. I also appreciated the way that lyricist, Scott Wittman, translated the tone and plot of the story so seamlessly into music while the composer, Marc Shaiman, channeled the feeling of the original Mary Poppins’ music into a fresh new score.

Overall, I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that there was very little argument in my brain against this movie while watching it. My heart was definitely NOT screaming (as I’d feared): “You are not Mary! I feel wrong about this!”  Instead, I found myself completely delighted by the music, the acting, the story, the sets, and the special effects  More amazing to me was the fact that everything about Mary Poppins Returns struck a balance that made it fun to watch as a new experience but also easy to feel sentimental about, as if it had been there all along.  Like Mary Poppins herself, I think that Mary Poppins Returns ultimately succeeds by doling out just the proper proportions of sensibility and magic.