Paper Plane Reviews

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Category: Horror Page 1 of 6

The Narrows by Travis M. Riddle

Travis M. Riddle’s work graces this blog for the second time, this time in an entirely different genre. I remember enjoying the writing of Balam, Spring, but there was a big part of me that wasn’t sure how he would come across in modern horror after only reading cosy high fantasy. Either way, I liked the synopsis and was curious to see how it would pan out.

The Narrows follows Oliver and his childhood friends as they return to their home town of Shumard and prepare to attend the funeral of a former close friend, Noah. Haunted by the unexpected nature of his late friend’s death, Oliver finds himself drawn to the spot where he died. Whilst there, he sees the grotesque display of a man dissolving in the middle of the road, and is convinced that this is somehow connected to Noah’s death. Now facing the prospect that their friend may have been shielding them from something terrible, he decides to investigate further.
The easiest way to discuss The Narrows is probably to tackle the horror elements separately from the slice of life, coping with grief stuff. I’ll tackle the everyday stuff first, as Riddle really nails it. The thing that I find interesting about the regular world story-line is that it could probably stand by itself without the horror elements, had Riddle wished to do so. The grief expressed by various characters about Noah’s death is really complex and multi-faceted, as one would expect from dealing with the death of someone who used to be a friend. Davontae probably has the least complex reaction, sadness at the loss of a friend tempered by the distancing of their relationship. Sophia understandably decides that he stopped being their friend long before and so refuses to attend the funeral entirely. But, being the viewpoint character, Oliver gets the most interesting reaction, which is anger at his former friend’s apparent abandonment, but also a desperation for his subpar behaviour to be vindicated in some way. I can genuinely say that I would have read an entire novel of just those three dealing with grief.
That’s not to say that the horror elements don’t work. They definitely do, and it’s some of the more disconcerting and unusual imagery that I’ve seen in a while. The first sign of the supernatural is someone full on melting into orange fungi-vomit, so it doesn’t pull any punches. At the same time though, there’s not much explained about how the Narrows of the title actually works. In another genre, that would probably have bugged me, but I think it works in horror. The idea that this other world exists and there may be no real rhyme or reason behind it, it’s just something that the protagonists have to deal with now.

A great novel about grief and losing touch with childhood and the people in it, with a truly uncanny horror world lurking in the background. Definitely something that I would recommend to someone looking for some indie horror. 4.5/5

Next review: K-ON! College by kakifly

Signing off,
Nisa.

The Blighted City by Scott Kaelen

As if the continued adventures of Harry Dresden weren’t grim enough for me, my next book was The Blighted City, a dark fantasy novel dealing with a legendary city of the undead. Since it’s been a little while since I’ve read a proper dark fantasy, so I was definitely looking forward to it.

The Blighted City follows three mercenaries, Oriken, Jalis and Dagra, who are given a job to retrieve a burial jewel from Lachyla, a city known only in stories. Supposedly the city’s king angered the goddess of Life and Death, who cursed the city with a blight that converted the citizens into the undead. Dagra, who is a great believer in the gods, is dead-set against going, convinced that they’ll be cursed if they set foot in Lachyla. But his friends convince him to go, against his better judgement, and they soon find that there may be more to the stories than they first assumed.
It took me a while to really sink my teeth into The Blighted City. I’m not sure what it was, but it wasn’t until the narrative had really entered Lachyla that it picked up for me. While there’s a lot about the story that I liked, primarily some interesting worldbuilding around the city of Lachyla, I found some of the pacing to be a bit off. Like I said, the stuff in the city was great, but the sections covering the journeys to and from there could possibly have benefited from being less detailed. While the travelling covered some nice character interaction between the members of the mercenary party, the narrative spent long enough on the outward journey that it started feeling repetitive and claustrophobic, and then the journey back perhaps wrapped things up in more detail than I am accustomed.
With regards to the city itself, it looks into an interesting variation on how the undead work in this world, especially the origins of said undead. It’s certainly a world that I would be interested in returning to and see how Lachyla has changed.

The Blighted City is a cool variation on your standard fantasy undead lore, and a fun adventure while the characters are in the city of Lachyla itself. I personally found the build-up and wrap-up were a bit over-long and over-detailed, but that might not bother you so much. 3.5/5

Next review: Night Huntress by Mak Long

Signing off,
Nisa.

Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill

I will admit to cheating a little with Heart-Shaped Box, as I had already read it several years before. It was my book of choice on a college trip to Berlin and I remember some good evenings spent curled up in a youth hostel scaring myself silly. But I’d forgotten some of the details of the book and thought that now would be a good time to remind myself of why I loved this book.

Heart-Shaped Box follows Judas Coyne, a middle-aged rock star who has gone into semi-retirement following the deaths of the majority of his band, and generally being tired with the whole business of being a rock star. He receives an email that says “Buy my stepfather’s ghost”. As he has a collection of the macabre, mostly consisting of twisted gifts from his fans, it seems like the perfect addition. But when the ghost is delivered to Jude, a dead man’s suit in a black heart-shaped box, he finds that the ghost that he has allowed into his life had a grudge against him during life and is hardly about to let death stand in the way of his plans for revenge.
I really loved Heart-Shaped Box the first time round, and the second time was similarly entertaining. I will say during this second read, there were a couple things that stuck out as needing work that I didn’t notice as a younger woman. But I’ll start with what the book gets right.
Firstly, I personally really liked the main characters, Jude and Georgia/Marybeth. I’ve seen a lot of reviews that criticise them for being flat and predictable, but I think that’s too harsh a line to take. Sure, ageing rock star and his significantly younger groupie girlfriend isn’t exactly the most original of archetypes to run with, but I don’t take much issue with this for a couple of reasons. First of all, you don’t tend to get these character archetypes as the main protagonists, so I’m happy to switch focus to them for a while. Second, the development that they both go is pretty damn significant, even if it’s kept a bit low-key compared to the whole “we’re being chased by a homicidal ghost” thing. They go from being a pair of desperately unhappy people who are unable to deal with all of their emotional baggage to a couple that can last through thick and thin, knowing that there’s someone who has seen them at their worst and decided to stick around.
The villain, Craddock, is a bit on the cartoonishly evil side of things, having pretty much no positive features either alive or dead, but then I think that’s about right when it comes to the supernatural. For me, there is a big factor about a supernatural evil that influences how scary I find them, which is whether they can be reasoned with. It’s the reason that I find zombies much worse than vampires. With vampires, there’s the potential for a spark of humanity that can be exploited by the quick-witted to possibly get out of the situation alive. With zombies, there is no reasoning with them, leaving you with a zero-sum situation. Craddock has no positive qualities or virtues that can be appealed to and combined with his incorporeal form and eerie mind powers makes him a formidable foe.
The main issue that I had with Heart-Shaped Box in my second reading was that the really unsettling stuff seems to be in the first part, with each subsequent part getting less scary as it goes on. This could be because as they go on, Jude and Marybeth gather some additional tools to combat Craddock with. But then they also get increasingly on-edge and beaten up, so that sort of balances out. Part of it is probably that the character development does make up a big chunk of the road trip that takes up the latter part of the novel. But the thing that sticks out in my mind most is a scene right near the end of the first part which is just so fucked-up and creepy that pretty much everything after it pales in comparison. Afterwards the horror is more slow-burn, which only emphasises how good that shock to the system scare is.

I thoroughly enjoyed my second read-through of Heart-Shaped Box. While it does suffer scare-wise after having its most shocking and nauseatingly creepy scene fairly early on, the ghost is persistent and subtle enough that there is at least a decent amount of tension throughout. The main characters aren’t necessarily the most original, but the personal development that they both go through is pretty damn good. I’d definitely recommend this for horror fans or maybe as a starting point for someone looking to get into the genre. 4.5/5

Next review: Banebringer by Carol A. Park

Signing off,
Nisa.

The Orange Eats Creeps by Grace Krilanovich

The Orange Eats Creeps was a book that I’ve been intrigued with for a while, if only because of the unusual title and blurb. I was definitely getting a Chuck Palahniuk vibe from it, so I was kind of looking forward to it, but otherwise I wasn’t really sure what I was getting into.

A girl with drug-induced ESP, one of a group of self-described slutty teenage vampire hobo junkies, describes her life hitching rides across the Pacific Northwest. While her companions seem content to slum around gas stations and convenience stores, she intends to use her ESP to try find her runaway foster-sister and establish whether she has been murdered or not.
I still have very little idea of what happens in The Orange Eats Creeps despite having just finished it. Of all the books that I could have read as an audiobook, this one seems the least suited for it. The problem is that the book has a very strong voice, but a significantly weaker grasp on plot and continuity. So there’s a distinctly teenage-style voice narrating a series of very similar scenes at convenience stores, punk concerts and scuzzy shared digs, which makes it all start to blur into an indistinguishable morass of sex, drugs and teenage apathy. I’m all for a strong voice in writing, but it needs to be grounded in something like character or plot, otherwise it’s the literary equivalent of shouting into the void. Maybe that’s appropriate for this book, but it doesn’t lead to a particularly fun time.

A strong voice, but it doesn’t have the same strength when it comes to plot or characters, or anything else that you are likely to care about. Admittedly, this was possibly the worst choice of novel for an audiobook, but it made for some serious spacing out moments. 1.5/5

Next review: Silent City by G. R. Matthews

Signing off,
Nisa.

Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer

Finally, we come to Acceptance, the last part of the Southern Reach trilogy, and it has quite a lot to live up to and possibly explain. I was really looking forward to finding out how everything would be tied up, and tucked into this with cautious enthusiasm. Spoilers will follow for Annihilation and Authority.

Following the collapse of Southern Reach when the border of Area X suddenly expanded, Control and the clone of the biologist, answering only to Ghost Bird, travel to the as-yet-uncharted island. Together they hope to find answers about how to get back home and what happened to the original biologist. The narrative also flashes back to the perspectives of Saul Evans, the lighthouse keeper who will eventually become the Crawler, and the former director as she prepares herself for being part of the first and final twelfth expedition into Area X.
I had a quick look over the reviews for Acceptance before starting my writing again, and I have just one thing to say about the main criticism that I saw levelled at this last installment. To those who have read Acceptance and were disappointed that everything wasn’t explained in minute detail: were we reading the same series? I mentioned in my review of Authority that I didn’t have more of an idea what was happening, I had a firmer grip on how the world and the people in it worked, and I’m quite happy to say the same for Acceptance. And honestly, I’m okay with that as an ending. For me, the Southern Reach series was never about explaining Area X, it was about how humans fare when they inevitably try and make it into something tame and conquerable. A novel, at it’s best, is about documenting how people react to unusual, challenging settings or situations. And honestly, it would have been more disappointing if VanderMeer had just shoved in a load of last minute, bullshit answers just to placate readers who can’t handle a bit of uncertainty. The Southern Reach series has never been super-detailed science-fiction, so why anyone would think that it would suddenly turn into that in the final installment is beyond me. For me, it was always about the journey of the biologist/Ghost Bird and Control. It was about how they both adapt to their new situation in their own separate ways. And in that sense, Acceptance more than succeeded.

For those people looking for concrete answers, look elsewhere. That wasn’t the style of Annihilation or Authority, so to expect details at this stage is just baffling. The character arcs are the most important aspect of Acceptance by far, and they are handled perfectly. This conclusion is about as open-ended as you can get, but that is just fine with me. 5/5

Next review: The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie

Signing off,
Nisa.

Authority by Jeff VanderMeer

Having finished Annihilation, I was really excited to see where the Southern Reach series would go. From what I could gather from the blurb, Authority would focus more on the actual facility that sent out the expeditions, as they try and wrap their heads around whatever is going on in Area X, which I thought had a lot of potential. As a warning, there will be spoilers for Annihilation in the following review, so if you’re still in the middle of it, I would advise skipping this until you’re finished.

Authority follows John “Control” Rodriguez, a secret service agent who has taken over as the new director at Southern Reach, following Annihilation‘s disastrous twelfth expedition. Three of the expedition members have returned home without triggering any alarms at the border of Area X, only the psychologist, now revealed to be the former director, still missing. Having been charged by his mysterious handler, known only as “the Voice”, to put Southern Reach back into some kind of order, Control must try and navigate deliberately obstructive staff who are certain that the former director will return, the unnerving and circuitous notes left behind by the former director, and the disturbing notion that his superiors are keeping secrets from him.
When I finish a book, what I usually do is write my review, submit it, and then take a look at other people’s reviews to see where we differ. As I wanted to organise my thoughts a little before discussing Authority, I looked at the reviews first. The number of one star reviews that I found in surprisingly quick succession gave me a bit of a shock. But taking a look at the content of those criticisms, I could see where they were all coming from, despite personally quite liking it. So, the main criticisms seemed to be with regards to the comparatively slow pace and more mundane focus on what is essentially office politics, especially after the weirdness that was Annihilation. They seem like decent enough points to discuss, and I can avoid the majority of spoilers. Looking at Authority having finished it, I can say that the slow pace and the focus on office politics, while admittedly frustrating at times, does seem to have its place in the grand scheme of the Southern Reach series. The pace and focus serve to develop what could be considered the status quo of two elements: Control, and the Southern Reach facility.
I’ll start with Southern Reach itself. While initially appearing rather normal for a facility dealing with Area X, the mundane routine of a 9-5 working week means that each day reveals layer after layer of weirdness and misdirection between all the different people working there. Control’s return to his rented home in the nearby town provides a much more straightforward example of normality, so you can really see how Area X is starting to bleed out and affect its surroundings. And once you get to the part of Authority where the plot goes from 0 to 60, it is way more of a shock to the system. Having created a pocket of comparative normality, the uninhibited weirdness of Area X that turns up in the final third is stark and feels so much more threatening for it.
Then there is Control. He decides at the beginning of his term as the director that he won’t let himself get emotionally involved in anything that he finds out, and that he will stay firmly in control of whatever he needs to do in order to clean up after his predecessor, meaning that he sets out with a hyper-vigilant mind-set. The set-backs that he encounters pretty much immediately, like the strange obsession that he has with interviewing the biologist and the deliberate withholding of information from both his employees and superiors, aren’t necessarily big when he is first confronted with them. But with his hyper-vigilance, he picks up on every little detail, both legitimate cause for concern and irrelevant tidbit, and soon everything is being seen as part of a mass of competing conspiracies, leading him on a downward spiral to anxiety and paranoia. I think you can probably guess what a mindset that defensive and fragile will do when confronted with anything from Area X, right?

If you’ve started reading Authority with the intent of getting concrete answers for questions you had from Annihilation, then you will be disappointed. It does give some more details about the Southern Reach facility though, so while I won’t admit to knowing much more than I did at the end of the last book, I think I have a firmer feel on how the world works. I have seen some criticism that Authority focuses too much on the office politics, but I think that the slow pace and (comparatively) mundane setting are very cleverly pulled off. The focus on seemingly unimportant details both develops how the normal world is affected by Area X even with containment, and allows Control to move from being stoic and hyper-vigilant to someone who is barely coping with his own anxiety and paranoia. You just have to be patient with it. 4.5/5

Next review: Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer

Signing off,
Nisa.

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

I’ve been a bit naughty with regards to my reading list. So my husband has been telling me how good the Southern Reach series was since shortly after it came out, but with my reading list as over-full as it is, I couldn’t quite justify bringing the series forward. Cut to the New Year, and we found out that the series has been adapted into a film. My husband was utterly bewildered by this turn of events, and is determined to see it to find out just how they’ve gone about adapting what is apparently a very weird series. So now I have until late February to finish the series in time to see the movie adaptation.



Annihilation follows a nameless biologist as she enters a strange place known as Area X as part of a scientific expedition. Little is known about the area beyond that there was an apparent environmental disaster, despite the apparent lushness of the ecosystems there. The members of the all-female expedition have been given the seemingly simple task of charting the land and taking samples of anything unusual. But it soon starts falling apart, starting with the discovery of an unmapped tunnel right near their base camp.
Having just read Annihilation, I can kind of see why my husband was so confused about the trailer. While there is a lot that comes up that could be seen as scary, both with regards to the secrets that are revealed about the authorities behind the expeditions and the weird creatures that call Area X home, I think it’s the kind of scary that is very difficult to translate to film. It’s the kind of slow burn that most directors avoid, and it wasn’t in evidence in the trailer that I’ve seen.
As to the actual book itself, I absolutely loved it, but it’s a bit of a shock to the system after a lot of fairly standard novels. There’s surprisingly little character interaction, and what there is is very detached and clinical due to the introverted nature of the biologist. It ends up being strangely claustrophobic in tone, as there is no secondary viewpoint to balance her out and her clear disinterest and difficulties regarding social interactions only makes her more isolated as a narrator. She’s an intriguing voice to follow if nothing else. As for the plot, I probably couldn’t say if I actually know what’s going on in Area X, but I am hoping that the next installments of the series will be a bit more illuminating.

x

Seriously weird and claustrophobic, I would heartily recommend this if you’re happy with a slow burn and not much in the way of answers for now. The narrator is refreshingly introverted, although I appreciate it might not be everyone’s cup of tea. 5/5

Next review: Authority by Jeff VanderMeer

Signing off,
Nisa.

The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes

The Shining Girls was a book that I stole from my mum after she had finished reading it, although she seems to have forgotten it entirely by the time that I actually got round to reading it. I took it partly because I was intrigued by the premise, and partly because I had heard good things about the author Lauren Beukes.

The Shining Girls focuses on two main characters, Kirby and Harper. Kirby is a young woman who is trying to put her life back together after a brutal attack that nearly killed her. Attempting to track down the man who tried to kill her, she starts finding evidence that she isn’t the first woman who he has attacked, but some of the evidence is just impossible. Meanwhile Harper, having found a house that inexplicably allows him to travel anywhere within the years 1929 and 1993, is compelled to kill a set of girls whose names he has found written on the walls of one of the rooms upstairs, leaving a memento from one of his other kills at the scene of her death.
So I really wanted the whole time travelling serial killer premise to work for me, but it just doesn’t. It’s quite disappointing, especially as the writing itself is solid and engaging. But for me, the time travel just wasn’t implemented well, leading to two main problems.
Firstly, it’s really tough to make a thriller tense when you know that most of the awful stuff that the serial killer is going to do has, in another character’s timeline, already happened. Sure, the murder scenes are really well-written and horrifying in and of themselves, but it’s tough to maintain the tension when the reaction to each new female perspective chapter is “well, here’s the next sacrificial lamb”. The time and attention spent fleshing them out and giving them engaging problems seems kind of wasted since the reader knows that the next time their name crops up, they’ll be dead by the end of the chapter.
Secondly, it uses my most despised type of time travel, the ontological paradox, also known as a causal loop. If you’re not familiar with that, essentially it’s if person A is given an item by the elderly person B, then goes back in time to give that item to a younger version of person B. At which point you sit there and wonder how the item came into being in the first place if it’s constantly looping between two points in time. It drives me up the wall, and the aggravating part is that Beukes spends so much time setting up this closed loop. Spoiler alert, it turns out at the end that the reason the House makes Harper want to kill people is because the House is Harper’s spirit. Which is just infuriating, because it wants to be so clever and thematic, but it just brings up questions. How are the girls picked out as victims? Harper keeps mentioning that they shine, but the narrative never elaborates on what that is exactly. The only way that Harper knows about who he needs to kill and when he needs to go to kill them is via the House, so there’s never any thought process about why or how his victims are selected. It unwittingly leads to Harper being a more or less flat character, as he has no real motivations other than follow the House’s lead, for reasons that are never explained.

The Shining Girls is a prime example of an interesting premise that is its own worst enemy. What interest there could be from the impossible serial killer storyline is sabotaged by its own use of dated time travel tropes. There’s little tension because all the killings have already happened in one timeline or another, and the painstakingly constructed causal loop only brings up questions of how this all comes about as well as depriving the main villain of any meaningful motivation. The only saving grace is the writing itself, but there’s only so much that can be saved from this plot. 2.5/5

Next review: Blood Rites by Jim Butcher

Signing off,
Nisa.

The Mammoth Book of Angels and Demons edited by Paula Guran

The last time I took a look at one of the Mammoth short story anthology, I was somewhat disappointed, as it didn’t really fit the theme terribly well. So I started The Mammoth Book of Angels and Demons with perhaps a little more trepidation than I initially picked it up with. But it did have stories by Neil Gaiman and George R. R. Martin, so I thought that there could at least be potential.

The Mammoth Book of Angels and Demons is an anthology of short stories focusing on angels and demons, both traditionally Christian in origin and more modern reimaginations.
First of all, and this might just be a personal gripe, but this is the first anthology where the editor has preceded each story with a snippet of information and a whole dollop of why this story/author is awesome, and it’s really not needed. Rarely is the snippet of angelology or demonology especially necessary to understand the story, and it’s really distracting to have the editor act as a hype-man. If you’ve included something in an anthology, I am going to take it as a given that you like the story in question, it doesn’t need to be hammered home.
As for the actual content, I found that the stories were generally more consistent in meeting the brief than my last Mammoth anthology. There were a few duds, of which the worst was easily “Only Kids are Afraid of the Dark” by George R. R. Martin. Considering that I was expecting his entry to be one of the safe bets, it was really disappointing to find such a poorly-written mess under his name. But while there were only a handful of outright duds, there were only five that I would actively seek out to read again: “Uncle Chaim and Aunt Rifke and the Angel” by Peter S. Beagle, “Sanji’s Demon” by Richard Parks, “Oh Glorious Sight” by Tanya Huff, “Elegy for a Demon Lover” by Sarah Monette and “Demons, Your Body, and You” by Genevieve Valentine. Beyond those four and the handful of duds, the stories included were just kind of okay. I would have hoped to get a better success rate than 5 out of 27, quite honestly.

Not a bad anthology by any stretch of the imagination, but there were only a handful of really good stories to appreciate here. While there were similarly only a handful of outright bad stories, that still leaves over half of the anthology as stories that will leave you going “meh”. Having the editor act as hype-man before every story just made the experience aggravating on top of that. 3/5

Next review: Neuromancer by William Gibson

Signing off,
Nisa.

Fashion Beast by Alan Moore, Malcolm McLaren, Antony Johnston & Facundo Percio

It’s been quite a while since my last comic, so I fancied something that was a little bit out of left field. In this case, that meant Fashion Beast, mainly because the artwork looked absolutely gorgeous, but also because I have a pretty good record with Alan Moore’s work so far and I was interested to see how one of his lesser known works held up against the hard-hitters that I’d read, like Watchmen or V for Vendetta.

Fashion Beast follows Doll Seguin, an androgynous coat checker barely scraping by at a popular club, decides to take a chance auditioning as a “mannequin” for a world-famous, reclusive fashion designer after losing her job. Making an unexpected impression on the mysterious patron of the House of Celestine, she is initially delighted by the world of glamour that she now inhabits, miles away from anything she could have imagined in the nuclear winter outside. But she soon finds that all is not well, and that the secrets that inspire its head designer to create beautiful clothing could be the very things that tear the fashion House to the ground.
My first reaction to Fashion Beast upon finishing it was a deep breath, because it’s quite a lot to digest over a lunch break. Having thought it over a bit, I find myself puzzling over it. In some ways, I like it and my initial reaction still applies as it tackles a lot of big ideas, like beauty and celebrity culture, the corruption of the creative process, gender identity, the class divide, and mental illness. It mentions on the blurb that Fashion Beast came out of an unproduced film script for a modern retelling of Beauty and the Beast, which would explain how it ends up feeling almost mythic in proportions, despite the comparatively small scale of the plot.
But then you look at some of the individual components and it starts to fall apart a bit. The characters, while vivid, are not for the most part written with much in the way of depth. This can make some of the emotional highs and lows come across a bit flat, as there hasn’t been enough character build-up to warrant the change. The same could be said about the setting, which has an intriguing premise that isn’t built on enough. Throughout the comic, you get glimpses of the outside world through radio segments warning about an impending nuclear winter, but it never seems to actually feel all that imminent. In the sections where the action is cooped up within the fashion house that makes sense, but even in the sections out in the poorest areas of the surrounding city it doesn’t feel any more immediate. If anything, all the talk about a nuclear winter does it make it really obvious that Fashion Beast‘s story was written in the 1980s with the cold war still firmly in place.
The artwork is pretty much perfect though. It manages to combine the glamour of high fashion with the griminess of the surrounding post-nuclear world and somehow manages to make it all look weird and utterly gorgeous. I might have to look out for more of Percio’s work if this is anything to go by.

Fashion Beast is a bit of a strange one. If you read it as a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, then it does work with that kind of fairy tale/mythic tone. If you look at it with more of a critical eye for depth of character and setting, then it may well disappoint you. Probably not Alan Moore’s best, but the potential is definitely there, and I would love to see an expanded version of this if that’s ever considered. 3.5/5

Next review: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can’t Stop Talking by Susan Cain

Signing off,
Nisa.

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