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Juan Matucan juanm1535 — Why are two people who are so obviously mismatched compelled to be together? Reason dictates that if you are miserable together, you should be able to part ways, never to look back. What mysterious force draws us back and binds us to each other? What makes us remember the most obscure detail (a gesture, a scent) and turns it into a reason to stay? And should these little reasons be enough? The List, by Tara Ison, explores these excruciating puzzles within a tumultuous relationship. Isabel and Al are as incompatible as couples get. One is driven and high-strung while the other basks in his slacker life-style. They can never seem to keep their relationship going for long, and yet can not resist the urge to reunite. Does the need to hang on to each other come from the fear of missing out on experiences left unshared? Isabel and Al set off to find out with unexpected, and often undesirable, results. So much rang true in this story. Jealousy, anger, affection, desperation, lust, and memory whirlpool around this couple as they search for closure before moving on from their emotionally violent love. We watch them fight. We watch them profoundly misunderstand each other. We wonder how two people can ever come together in midst of all that is hurtfully said, and all that is felt and never said at all. And yet, when we are given a glimpse inside their heads and shown moments of tenderness and wonder, we understand why these two persist in hanging on. In reading The List, I found myself torn, like the characters, not knowing whether to root for separation or reconciliation. Like most really remarkable books, this one gave me insight into myself and my own stormy relationships. Being able to observe this familiar couple was a strange, sometimes painful experience. I would guess the vast majority adults have been through a relationship of this ilk. The List is a wonderful sympathetic novel for all of us who have ever questioned ourselves in terms of our emotional bonds, our fears, and our choices.

Bo Peng dahaipeng — A WW II novel of a campaign in the Pacific focusing on a recon platoon. Sharp reality is the main characteristic of this novel. It is not the heroic war fiction, but rather the foot slogging horror that is war.

Russell Losey loseyrus — I want to start this review with "Gil is gay and it's awesome" and I'm a little conflicted. I don't want to distract people from the fact that this is one hell of a sword and sorcery story, but at the same time I really think it bears highlighting. Morgan's writing is fast, brutal and uncompromising. He set out to deliberately smash fantasy fiction tropes with The Steel Remains, and he continues his task with great relish in this sequel. This is nihilistic, brutal and unrelenting stuff and he puts his characters - particularly his main protagonist Gil - through sheer and absolute hell with hardly a pause for breath. Gil gets knocked down – hard – and then just grits his teeth and drags himself up again, no matter what, and he doesn't ask for any favours to do so. It's the undiluted essence of a hero and it's not always fun to watch. The battered, bitter, weary, pissed-at-the-world Gil makes pretty much all the other anti-heroes you've ever read and liked look like they were merely playing at being badass. But I feel the way that Morgan writes his hero (or more accurately, anti-hero) is somehow even more ground-breaking than he intended. Because Gil is gay, but he's gay in a way that any other hero in any other book you've ever read is hetero. He's violent, aggressive, cocky, confrontational and very good at killing. He's deeply flawed, a bit (understatement?) messed up and he does things you don't always like. But he's also alone and struggling to survive, to be as invulnerable as he can even while being completely human. He's had a crappy childhood and has been forced to do some even crappier things just to survive and what's more he, of all people, is not proud of it. Doesn't mean he's going to do otherwise next time. And like anyone, he needs others. He craves meaningful connections, needs companionship and comfort. When he meets someone attractive, he feels desire. It might not mean anything or amount to anything, and if it does you know it can't last because his life just doesn't work like that, but he's only human, like anyone. He just happens to also be gay. It's this approach to his character, the way his sexual orientation is such an embedded part of his inner landscape, so background, that it comes across as completely unremarkable, and that's why I didn't want to start this review with "Gil is gay and it's awesome". Because it shouldn't be something to remark on, but it is. I can't really express how rarely I've seen something like this in other fantasy fiction. Possibly never. Sure, I've read those books by Lynn Flewelling, as well as others. Gay protagonists are not completely unheard of in this genre, but it's always more of a... I don't know, feature. More often still, they're relegated to supporting character and written in a way that equates 'homosexual' with either someone to feel a little sorry for or someone to mistrust or dislike. Morgan doesn't 'feature' Gil's homosexuality, he doesn't unrealistically romanticise or degrade it. He doesn't fade-to-black on the sex scenes but neither does he get unnecessarily explicit. He basically just treats it as he would have treated a heterosexual protagonist, and when Gil faces thoughtless prejudice or hostile opposition, when he struggles alone and is in need of comfort, when you realise his feelings for someone close to him run deeper than he lets on, you are as fully invested in something good happening to him as you would be with any other character in the same situation, no matter who turned them on. And that's as it should be.

Mohamed Honda _ — Anyone who's read my reviews of the first and last books in the Twilight saga knows that this review won't consist of much. Twilight was the beginning, the best book, the start of something great. Or at least, it should have been. Breaking Dawn was the bitterly disappointing ending to the saga that had potential, but just didn't deliver. New Moon and Eclipse were the pointless, disappointing, utterly forgettable filler books in this tragedy sandwich. You know it's sad when, three days after I read this book, I couldn't immediately remember what it was about. I still don't remember much of what happened in it, aside from the fight scene towards the end. The only reason I remember said fight scene is because I'm still infuriated that Bella was able to act like such a spoiled, selfish little brat and somehow have fate reward her for it. When Edward and his family are preparing for battle, Bella has an emotional breakdown and decides she just can't live without Edward. So she asks him to stay out of the fight. For her. Internally, she feels terrible for requesting it, but she can't reconcile those feelings with the overwhelming fear of losing Edward. So she never takes it back. Edward, like the totally pussy-whipped doormat he's become (completely uncharacteristic of him considering his behavior in the first and second books), agrees. The explanation is that he feels so badly about leaving Bella for eight months (in the second book) that he can't refuse her anything. Even if it means leaving his family to fight, alone, against a sadistic, revenge-bent she-vamp whose only target is Edward's own precious little girlfriend. So he does just that. He leaves the werewolves and his family to fight alone while he and Bella camp out in the mountains. But wait! It's okay because the she-vamp has other plans. While she sends her army of newborn vamps to fight the Cullens (the ones who didn't allow some selfish bitch to talk them out of fighting, anyway) and the werewolves, *she* loops around to the mountains with her freshly-made lover-vamp to take Bella out while the others are preoccupied. It's a real good thing she asked Edward to stay out of the fight, otherwise he wouldn't have been on that mountain to defend her from Bonnie and Clyde Vampire. Please. Don't even get me started on Bella's other admirable traits. As the series progresses, she gets dumber, more selfish, and less empathetic. I hate this character. She's not the same character as the Bella in Twilight. Not even close. Her attitude and behavior make this book barely tolerable.