Category Archives: Pretty Books

These are all my posts about books that have exceptionally nice covers or particularly fancy editions that I have found.

The Sky is Everywhere

Young adult novel about grief and love

This book has been on my shelf for a very long time. Way back when I started this blog, I was frantically collecting books with tinted edges and I picked this one up from a Canberra book shop called Book Passion. However my bookshelf was bigger than my eyes and it has taken me a very long time to get to some of these early books. In an effort to try to tackle my backlog of over 200 unread books (send help!), I’ve been trying to prioritise books that have been sitting around for a while so I picked this one to take with me when I went for a trip.

Photo is of “The Sky is Everywhere” by Jandy Nelson. The paperback book is framed by a yellow circle of wrapped cord that looks a bit like a sun, with blue sky in the background. The cover is sky blue with white text surrounded by a white heart.

“The Sky is Everywhere” by Jandy Nelson is a young adult novel about a teenage girl called Lennie who returns to school after her sister Bailey has died suddenly following an unexpected health event. Lennie struggles to process the loss of her sister, or to talk about her grief with her grandmother and uncle, instead leaving snippets of poetry written on unlikely scraps discarded around her home town. However, things begin to grow even more complicated when she starts spending time with Bailey’s boyfriend Toby and meets the handsome, musical new student Joe.

This is an extremely heartfelt book that authentically and messily tackles the different ways people handle grief. Lennie is a very relatable character who grapples with the urgency of living – with ambition, love, family and school – while coming to terms with the understanding that these are all things her sister will miss out on. I really liked the interactivity of Lennie’s poetry throughout the book, with the lines scribbled on different types of paper (and even things like candy wrappers). I felt like it made the book feel more raw. I also really enjoyed Lennie’s relationship with her Gram, the strain and later solace they find in each other, and Lennie’s gradual understanding of her absent mother.

While I completely understand how Lennie’s grief and desire to be close to her sister clouds her judgment, I did find the love triangle of the book one of my least favourite parts. As a reader, there was just something quite uncomfortable about Toby and Lennie seeking comfort in one another. I appreciate that it contributed to the tension of the book, but I think sometimes you can have a budding relationship and explore social issues without tension.

Nevertheless, a gentle book that sensitively explores grief and adolescence. Also if you’re looking for a TV series on a very similar topic, I really recommend “Never Have I Ever” which is far more chaotic and extremely funny.

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Filed under Book Reviews, General Fiction, Pretty Books, Tinted Edges, Young Adult

Galatea: A Short Story

Short story retelling of a Greek myth

I am still so behind in my reviews, but this was the last book in my 2022 Short Stack Reading Challenge. I picked it up because I had read a book by this author before, and because it is enchantingly small with eye-catching gold foil.

Image is of “Galatea” by Madeline Miller. The hardcover book is standing on a small concrete circle and leaning against a short concrete cylinder, surrounded by pebbles and chips of stone. The cover is waves of navy blue with tiny dots in gold foil.

“Galatea” by Madeline Miller is a short story retelling of the story of Pygmalion. The story is told from the perspective of a woman who is being kept in a hospital bed and made to stay quiet and still. She tells them that she was once made of stone, but they don’t believe her. She is visited by her husband and when she is expected to recreate a sexualised re-enactment of their first meeting. However, although it becomes clear that she is trapped it is also clear that her spirit has not been crushed.

This is a very swift, satisfying read that strikes a beautiful ambiguity between real life and something more fantastical that I always strive for in my own writing. The narrator could very well be an ordinary woman with some strange beliefs, or she could very well be a statute brought to life, and Miller leaves it to the reader to decide for themselves which interpretation they prefer. However, the truths of her treatment by her husband and those caring for her are irrefutable and she becomes a character who is very easy to sympathise with.

A beautiful little book inside and out.

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Filed under Book Reviews, Fantasy, Historical Fiction, Magic Realism, Pretty Books, Short Stories

Where’s My Jetpack? A Guide to the Amazing Science Fiction Future that Never Arrived

Non-fiction book about why the inventions we imagined don’t exist yet

There is no question why I picked up this book. It has the most incredible metallic blue tinted edges and even though I don’t frequent the non-fiction section at the Lifeline Bookfair very often, this clearly caught my eye. It’s a nice short book with large text: ideal for the Short Stack Reading Challenge.

Photo is of “Where’s My Jetpack? A Guide to the Amazing Science Fiction Future that Never Arrived” by Daniel H. Wilson, PhD. The paperback book is leaning against a black PC case that has glowing blue lights inside it and a lit up mouse and keyboard reflected on the panel. The cover is silver and black with a figure in a jetpack shooting up amongst skyscrapers and a zeppelin. The smoke from the jetpack is blue. The book has shiny metallic blue tinted edges.

“Where’s My Jetpack? A Guide to the Amazing Science Fiction Future that Never Arrived” by Daniel H. Wilson, PhD is a non-fiction book about a range of imagined inventions from science fiction designed to help with transportation, entertainment, superhuman abilities, household tasks and space travel. Wilson dedicates each chapter to an invention, explaining the science behind why it is not yet a reality.

Although this book was published in 2007, it is surprisingly still relevant. With humour and surprisingly good science communication, Wilson carefully explains the history of each idea, what would be required to get it working, progress so far and what is standing in the way – be it viability, money or will.

While I remember enjoying the book while I read it, I didn’t feel like I retained a lot of information from it. I think I would also like to see an updated or revised edition that takes into account scientific progress over the past 17 years.

A fun and informative book for sci-fi and non-fiction buffs alike.

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Filed under Book Reviews, Non Fiction, Pretty Books, Tinted Edges

The Secret Garden

Classic children’s book about a lonely child and a hidden garden

I think I was recently down a Wikipedia rabbit hole looking up the filmography of Colin Firth when I found that he had been in a 2020 film adaptation of this book. I recall watching the 1993 version several times and I think I may have read this book as well as a kid, but I wasn’t completely sure. I remember the story was very wholesome, which I was definitely in the mood for, and I have a very pretty edition with lemon-coloured tinted edges that was just the thing.

Photo is of “The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Bernett. The hardcover book is resting among greenery and small purple flowers. The cover is yellow with green botanical designs, a pattern of darker yellow keyholes and an embossed gold key hanging from a chain.

“The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Bernett is a classic children’s novel about a young British girl called Mary who is left orphaned following an epidemic in British India. She is shipped back to England to live at the manor of an uncle she has never met. Spoiled and sullen from being neglected by her parents, Mary is largely left to her own devices in her new home. However, after a bit of kindness from one of the maids, Martha, and her brother Dickon, the encouragement of a little robin redbreast and some exploring, Mary uncovers two secrets of the manor.

This is an uplifting story about a young girl who, despite her privileged upbringing, doesn’t have any emotional connection with anyone. Bernett proposes that friendship, time outdoors and the beauty of nature can improve the happiness and wellbeing of any one. The book is a celebration of life the North York Moors and gardening; not just as a means of food production, but as a healthy and enjoyable hobby. Dickon brings a pagan earthiness to the story, encouraging and bringing the best out of prickly Mary in the same way he does the English wildlife.

However, unlike the inimitable “Black Beauty” (which I have in the same set of children’s classics), there are some a few elements to this book that don’t hold up today. Mary starts her life in India, and unfortunately the book has a lot of racist, colonial views about Indian people. There is a moment in the book where Bernett is a family violence apologist, suggesting that perhaps if a woman spoke more nicely to her husband, he wouldn’t get drunk and beat her. Then, there is a bit of an argument that book espouses toxic positivity.

Nevertheless, it is a cheerful book with some beautiful nature writing, and I’m keen to watch Colin Firth as Lord Craven.

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Filed under Book Reviews, Children's Books, Classics, Pretty Books, Tinted Edges

The Forty Rules of Love

Historical fiction novel about Sufism and love

Content warning: sexual assault

Quite some time ago I started collecting these beautiful Penguin by Hand editions. There were six books written by women published with embossed covers inspired by different types of craft. I have three in my collection (so far) but have only reviewed “The Help” and “The Postmistress“. This book is just as beautiful as the others with a gorgeous tactile embossed design inspired by cross-stitch. I actually can’t believe it has been over five years since I last reviewed a book in this series. I feel like I have picked this one up and put it with a handful of books to read on several trips, but it has never made it to the top of the pile until now.

Image is of “The Forty Rules of Love” by Elif Shafak. The paperback book is resting on a red scarf with dark amber beads laying diagonally across the top of the photograph. The cover has a cross-stitch design with whirling dervishes and a border of a dark and light blue zigzag design.

“The Forty Rules of Love” by Elif Shafak is a novel within a novel. The first story is about a mother called Ella who lives with her husband and three children. Her days are mostly spent on housework and preparing elaborate meals for her family. Despite being in the family home day in, day out, her family seem to be drifting away from her and her life feels meaningless. However, when she gets a part-time job reading for a literary agency, suddenly everything changes. The first book she is asked to read, the novel within this novel, is called Sweet Blasphemy by an author called A. Z. Zahara. This, on the other hand, is a historical fiction story set in today’s Iran in the mid-1200s about a Persian poet called Shams who befriends and becomes the spiritual instructor of an Islamic scholar known as Rumi. At the beginning of the story, we learn that Shams had a pivotal impact on Rumi’s poetry and that he was murdered. As Ella reads the story of Shams and Rumi, she begins to feel more and more inspired by love and decides to email the author.

I am no expert in poetry, but this book has just reaffirmed to me the strength of Iran and Persia‘s poetry tradition. My favourite parts of the books were by far the Sweet Blasphemy chapters. Shafak uses a range of characters to examine different parts of Persian society: a novice, a beggar, an alcoholic, a sex worker, Rumi, members of his household and even the person who killed Shams. There was an incredible magnetism between Shams and Rumi and even if their relationship was strictly platonic, it certainly felt very romantic. I also really enjoyed Shams’ rules and how each rule tied into the theme of each chapter. It was also a fascinating history of the origin of whirling dervishes.

I did find, however, that I was much less invested in Ella’s story. Somehow compared to the historical significance of Shams and Rumi and the mark they made on poetry and religion, Ella’s difficulties with her family, love life and career just weren’t as engaging. I could see that her story did serve to bring modern relevance to Shams and Rumi, but I’m not sure it was enough to keep me compelled.

A beautifully written novel, especially Shams and Rumi’s story, but a little unevenly paced.

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Filed under Book Reviews, General Fiction, Historical Fiction, Penguin By Hand, Pretty Books

Mother Thorn and Other Tales of Courage and Kindness

Collection of four fairy tales

If you follow my blog, you may have seen my post about my new reading challenge: the Short Stack Reading Challenge to read as many short books in December as you can. I knew exactly what I wanted my first book to be. I have been reading this author’s books for years and years, and when I saw that she had an illustrated collection of fairy tales, I had to have it. When the edition arrived, I was amazed at how beautiful the book was in person. The gold foil on the hardcover is stunning and it came with a lovely illustrated card with black silhouettes with gold detailing.

Image is of “Mother Thorn and Other Tales of Courage and Kindness” by Juliet Marillier and illustrated by Kathleen Jennings. The hardcover book is resting on top of a white card with black silhouette illustrations with gold detail. There are also two artworks by my favourite fairytale artists: a cover artwork of “East of the Sun and West of the Moon” depicting a woman in a red tunic and skirt with long black hair, brown skin and tattoos standing with a polar bear by Erin-Claire Barrow, and a small blue glass rabbit by Spike Deane.

“Mother Thorn and Other Tales of Courage and Kindness” by Juliet Marillier and illustrated by Kathleen Jennings is a collection of four original fairy tales. The Witching Well, inspired by a Scottish version of the Frog Prince story, is about a young woman called Lara whose difficult mother requires water from a special well to bake bread with. One day after the long journey there, Lara finds the well dry and must make a bargain with a talking frog. Mother Thorn is an original fairy tale set in medieval Ireland about the dogs and the loves of our lives. Pea Soup is a retelling of The Princess and the Pea with a more modern and cosy perspective. Copper, Silver, Gold is a reinterpretation of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Tinder Box about military trauma and the three magic dogs.

Marillier’s work is the ultimate in comfort reading and this book is infused with warmth. Despite visiting some familiar territory in Mother Thorn, Marillier proves again that she is a flexible author who works comfortable in a variety of settings and lengths. The Witching Well was an incredibly sweet story that was tempered with a realistic exploration of managing a relationship strained by anxiety and control. I really liked how in Mother Thorn, things don’t go to plan, but Niamh finds happiness through the different stages of her life. In Pea Soup, Marillier shares the perspective between two characters and highlights a less traditional but no less vaild form of masculinity. Copper, Silver, Gold was probably the most heart-breaking of the stories. Unlike many stories that focus on the ‘glory’ of war, this story instead grapples with the aftermath and the work and support people need to heal.

This was a lovely little collection, as beautiful on the outside as it is on the inside, and I enjoyed it from start to finish.

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Filed under Australian Books, Book Reviews, Fantasy, Pretty Books, Short Stories

The Beast’s Heart

Beauty and the Beast Retelling from the Beast’s Perspective

Content warning: suicide attempt

I received a copy of this book courtesy of Harry Hartog. The author is a Canberra local, and one of the authors whose books were available at the pre-lockdown VIP fantasy and science fiction event. I’ve been on a bit of a fantasy streak recently, and this book is another one that has been sitting on my shelf for far too long. I really love the copper foil detail on the cover, and you can see from the photo below how it catches the light.

Image is of “The Beast’s Heart” by Leife Shallcross. The paperback book is resting against a wooden fence overgrown with vines and flowering bushes. The cover is navy blue with a black metal gate and vines and the title in copper foil.

“The Beast’s Heart” by Leife Shallcross is a fantasy novel that retells the fairy tale “Beauty and the Beast” from the Beast’s perspective. After years of running wild in the woods, a beast finds his way back home to his overgrown chateau. Over time he begins to regain some clarity of thought, and the chateau in turn awakens to do his bidding. When a man arrives at the chateau in need of help, Beast shows him hospitality. However, using his magic, Beast contrives to trap the man into an unthinkable bargain: his life for a year with his youngest daughter. When the beautiful Isabeau arrives at the chateau, she has everything she could ever want and more: a beautiful garden, entertainment, delicious food and friendship. However, when Beast asks her to marry him, she cannot possibly say yes. Unbeknownst to Isabeau, Beast is under a curse and if he cannot find true love, he is doomed.

This is a gentle, lyrical reimagining of one of the world’s most well-known fairy tales. Shallcross depicts the Beast as someone who is rigidly principled, in an unwinnable war between his passions and his morals. Shallcross contrasts the idyll of Beast and Isabeau’s days with the much simpler, busier lives of Isabeau’s sisters who are left behind to learn how to work in their much reduced station. Telling the story from the Beast’s point of view is a unique take on a classic story. A slow-burn romance, Shallcross spends a lot of time exploring friendship as the foundation for a relationship. Shallcross’ backstory for the Beast, especially in relation to his beloved grandmother, was probably my favourite part of the book and showcased her creativity. I also did enjoy the scenes with Isabeau’s sisters, and I felt that out of all the characters they underwent the most character development, learning to live within their means and open their hearts.

Although Shallcross has stayed close to the original version of the fairy tale, in which Beauty is too obtuse to work out that the Beast and the man she dreams about are one and the same, I found it really frustrating that the otherwise bright and insightful Isabeau wasn’t able to put two and two together. I also found it frustrating that she seemed to lack curiosity, and although Beast asks her again and again to marry him, she doesn’t every consider why on earth he would put himself through the emotional torture. Without much productive conversation, the many chapters of Beast and Isabeau sitting in parlours felt a bit slow and while the scenes of Isabeau’s family broke things up a bit, I think there was room for a bit more fire and chemistry between the two. Perhaps Isabeau’s agreement to stay for a year was too long.

An original take on a classic story that perhaps needed fewer magical fireworks and more metaphorical fireworks.

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Filed under Australian Books, Book Reviews, Fantasy, Pretty Books

The Lifeboat

Historical fiction about being stranded in a lifeboat

Content warning: suicide

I picked up this book some time ago from the Lifeline Book Fair for an obvious reason: the beautiful tinted edges. They are such a deep turquoise colour and the cover design itself is really striking. The endsheets have a map showing shipping routes across the Atlantic Ocean. I’m still chugging away at my to-read shelf, and it has been a little while since I have read one of my books with tinted edges, so I chose this one.

Image is of “The Lifeboat” by Charlotte Rogan. The hardcover book is resting on a dark navy surface with an empty blue tin cup on its side next to it and a boat made out of newspaper just above. The cover has a small image of a lifeboat silhouetted against light on the horizon, with the sea below and the sky above almost identical in colour: dark turquoise.

“The Lifeboat” by Charlotte Rogan is a historical fiction novel about a young woman called Grace who is on trial with two other women. Weeks earlier, she finds herself on a lifeboat as the ocean liner she and her husband were sailing on is sinking. Before long it becomes clear that the lifeboat is overcrowded and is riding too low in the water. Despite taking turns to bail out the water, the passengers realise that to survive, some will have to be sacrificed. As Grace presents her testimony to the court, the reader is left wondering what truly happened on that boat?

Shipwrecks and being stranded at sea are almost always interesting stories because they place an often large number of people within a very limited amount of space and put them under the enormous pressure of surviving in extreme conditions until they are either rescued or die waiting. The absolute highlight of this book was the perspective. Grace is a deeply enigmatic character who initially seems very innocent but who later lets slips moment of ambition and manipulation that leave the reader questioning exactly how reliable her recollection of the events was. Rogan is a strong writer and the juxtaposition between the crowdedness of the boat and the emptiness of the sky and sea around them was truly unsettling. I felt that Rogan really captured the discomfort and pain that comes along with exposure and starvation and the book felt really realistic and well-researched.

While I thought it was well-written, I’m not quite sure the ending was landed. While I appreciate that Grace was the main character we were concerned with, I didn’t feel connected to any of the other characters except perhaps Mr Hardie. Grace, in true narcissistic form, talked about her interactions with them but not really much about their natures. I would have liked to have known a lot more about Hannah. While I understood that Rogan was angling for subtlety when suggesting what was truly happening on the ocean liner before it sank and how Grace came to be on the boat on the first place, I think a bit more depth or a few more moments of leaning into Grace’s unreliability would have made the ending more hard-hitting.

A well-written and easy book to read that left me with plenty to think about but wishing for a little more punch.

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Filed under Book Reviews, Historical Fiction, Mystery/Thriller, Pretty Books, Tinted Edges

The Wonderling

Children’s book about an orphan fox boy

I cannot remember where I bought this book from, but there is no mistaking why. It is a beautiful hardcover book with copper metallic detail on the lettering both on the slipcase and beneath. Then, of course, is the premise. As I have mentioned many times on here I am a big fan of animal fantasy, and the little anthropomorphic fox and suggestions of steampunk had me hooked.

Image is of “The Wonderling” by Mira Bartok. The hardcover book is resting on a slate grey background with a pocket watch, a clockwork mechanism with a bunny and a key to the right. The cover is outlined in lime green with a teal band across and filling in the middle. There are clockwork beetles in the corners, ribbons, a key and a red fox with one ear wearing a great jacket and a necklace with the number 13.

“The Wonderling” by Mira Bartok is a children’s animal fantasy steampunk novel about an orphan fox boy known only as 13. A “groundling”, a mix of both fox and boy, he lives at the Home for Wayward and Misbegotten Creatures run by the cruel Miss Carbunkle. Bullied and downtrodden, when he makes a new friend called Trinket who gives him a new name, Arthur agrees to escape the Home and try to find the truth about his past and his destiny.

There were a lot of positive things about this book, and I think Bartok’s writing is probably the strongest selling point. It is lyrical and playful and her descriptions are lovely to read. I really enjoyed the art sprinkled throughout the book and the all the different types of groundlings. Trinket was one of the best characters who, despite being tiny and almost entirely birdlike, had lots of gumption and pizzazz. I enjoyed the interludes with the young boy Pinecone and his family in their treehouse, and they were some of the most enjoyable parts of the book.

However, this book was heavily inspired by “Oliver Twist” with the hapless Arthur just as much a victim of circumstance as the orphan Oliver, and even Quintus is just like a hybrid of the Artful Dodger and Fagin. Despite these broad plot and character similarities, the story was rather confusing and there were a lot of elements that didn’t make sense or simply went nowhere. For example, someone out of kindness put something in Arthur’s pocket, but didn’t help any of the other groundlings? But Arthur inexplicably never checked his pocket? And then the thing was lost anyway? I also felt that while individually the elements of Arthur’s world were very whimsical, collectively the worldbuilding was a bit lacking. Some of the choices (e.g. men wearing top hats walking cats in Lumentown) seemed to be based more on aesthetics rather than logic.

An easy if somewhat meandering read that draws a lot of inspiration from Dickens.

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Phosphorescence: On awe, wonder & things that sustain you when the world goes dark

Part self-help book, part memoir about finding your inner glow

Content warning: cancer

I think it’s pretty obvious why I picked up this book: it is breathtaking. The unique hardcover design is covered in subtle, intricate silver foil and it is truly eye-catching when you walk past it in a bookshop as I did. I saw Julia Baird speak some years ago about her biography of Queen Victoria, but I haven’t yet managed to tackle that very large book. However, this book seemed much more manageable and I think we can all agree we need a bit of brightening up.

“Phosphorescence: On awe, wonder & things that sustain you when the world goes dark” by Julia Baird is a non-fiction book that blends memoir with self-help. Drawing on her own experiences in the wake of a cancer diagnosis, Baird considers what it is that nurtures us during challenging times and how we can foster our own phosphorescence. Baird divides her book into four main sections that loosely deal with our physical environment, our identity, friendship and finding hope.

There are a lot of thought-provoking ideas in this book. Baird incorporates snippets of various philosophies and research to support the things that she does in her life that she finds helpful. I enjoyed the earlier chapters about nature the most, especially about the physical phenomenon of phosphorescence. Reading Baird’s account of swimming at Manly Beach has made me want to get into distance swimming even more and Baird’s awe for cuttlefish was nice to read around the same time as I watched “My Octopus Teacher“. Baird is a spirited writer who beautifully captures the awe nature inspires in us. I was also quite interested in reading about the movement within the Anglican Church to allow women to be ministers and how instead of accepting the idea, the patriarchs doubled down on including women.

However, for a lot of the book, I didn’t feel very engaged. I think the book that I was hoping for was something more like “H is for Hawk” with phosphorescence in the natural world as more of a central theme. I’ve always been captivated by things that glow, and some of my happiest memories are seeing unexpected fireflies at dusk and swimming with bioluminscent plankton, so I was expecting a blend of memoir and natural history. Unfortunately, this book only touches briefly on this phenomenon and the majority of the book is about Baird’s experiences living in New York, surviving cancer and, directly and indirectly, her religion. Without a clear central theme, it did feel a bit more like a collection of Baird’s essays and ruminations vaguely organised by theme. This book actually reminded me a lot of Leigh Sales’ “Any Ordinary Day“, except rather than forensically trying to figure out why events happen in anyone’s lives, Baird is more concerned with sharing the details of little decisions she has made to try to make sense of her own life. She also included two chapters that were letters to her own children which, while I appreciate the sentiment, I’m not sure really aligned with the rest of the book. I also felt that the audience this book is written for was quite a narrow one, and Baird doesn’t really acknowledge that a lot of her experiences are the result of significant privilege.

A book that will certainly cheer you up sitting on your bookshelf, but could have used more glowing jellyfish.

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Filed under Australian Books, Book Reviews, Non Fiction, Pretty Books