Both children – 10 year old and 13 year old – had a go at reading this, though (the admittedly very sensitive) 10 year old didn’t continue past the early pages. Youngest has a policy on not consuming media if the dog dies so…. that might be worth knowing if you have a similar stance.
The story follows the eponymous Finnegan Quick, whose nightmares have an impact on the real world come morning. We went into reading this book expecting something akin to Goosebumps or Gremlins – given the excellent neon-nineties vibes of the cover – but the story itself was something darker, and there are some genuinely scary moments.
Eldest kiddo really enjoyed this book, and I think it’s the perfect sort of novel for those between years, when young adult books can be slightly too old, and middle-grade can feel slightly too young. Horror isn’t a genre that Eldest would usually read, but the more grown-up themes explored here within the context of a middle-grade novel worked perfectly. We’ll definitely be looking out for more books like this in future.
What are your favourite spooky books for children? Are there any you’d recommend we explore beyond the old-school obvious?
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I’ve set up a ‘bookshop‘ of sorts, over on Bookshop.org, so that I can point you to somewhere to buy that isn’t Amazon. I get a small commission for any sales made there. This helps to support me running this blog. If you’d like to get your copy of The Nightmares of Finnegan Quick this way, please just click here. Thank you for your support.
Abraxus Elijah Honey by Ella Ruby Self is probably my number one book of 2024. I haven’t actually got around to writing up a full review of it on here, but if you’re interested in my thoughts, check out my Storygraph…
Rory and the Snack Dragons by Louisa MacDougall was a book my family had been waiting for since The Kelpies Prize 2022 when it was shortlisted. It absolutely didn’t disappoint, and despite both being older than the target demographic, both children absolutely loved this fantastically quirky, fun read.
What are some of your favourite books from the last 12 months? What should I add to my (admittedly already vast) TBR pile for 2025?
Before signing off for 2024, I’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has sent me a book to review, or shared a link, or liked one of my posts. I really, really appreciate it.
2025 kicks off with some really exciting news for me, and I can’t wait to share it with you all.
I hope that whatever you’re doing this New Year, that it goes as well as it can for you.
See you on the other side.
xx
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I’ve set up a ‘bookshop‘ of sorts, over on Bookshop.org, so that I can point you to somewhere to buy that isn’t Amazon. I get a small commission for any sales made there. This helps to support me running this blog. If you’d like to get your copy of the books mentioned above this way, please just click here. Thank you for your support.
Today, I’m reviewing Earth Hagiography, an adult poetry book by Sfarda L. Gül.
This is a first for me, and I’d love to know if you’re interested in me doing more.
But first, let’s get into this.
For those who don’t spend their lives reading about medieval saints for fun, a hagiography is – according to the Cambridge dictionary –
I love this as a title for a book of poems about the earth – it’s probably the main reason why I decided to review this book, rather than sticking to only children’s literature. Not only does it encapsulate this sense of a holy ‘Mother Earth’ , but it also speaks to the idea that we’re celebrating something that has passed – a warning, in this day and age, that the climate crisis can (and will) end us unless we act.
There’s very little in the way of introduction to this book, which I found to be something of a double-edged sword. I love poetry, but one of my favourite things about reading it is looking at the author’s intentions and the way that they were executed. I like Hollie McNish for this reason – her accompanying essays enrich the poetry so much – and I’ll forever be a fan of a good anthology, like Ella Risbridger’s Set Me on Fire. That said, it sort of works here – the intentions of the earth are unknowable, and we can only make meaning in the natural world for ourselves.
The poetry is enigmatic, and as a fan of writing that uses incredibly specific, unusual words that feel good to say aloud, I really loved the vocabulary of this book. And yes, I realise that sounds pretentious, but I was a linguist in a former life. I love the way we pronounce words in contrast to their spellings, and their etymologies, and the way that English has incredibly niche ways to describe such odd things. Words like ‘enubilous’ (used in Dew) just feel so good to say.
Time (Nonlinear) was a favourite – the branching penultimate and final verses reading like the splitting of tree roots. I also loved Taxidermy, which felt both grim and humorous and hopeful. I also found When I opened my Eyes and Natureless Sphericity to be particularly hard-hitting. And then there’s the layout of Solastalgia and Artificial Life both of which I could have spent a long time unpicking – and might, later.
Overall, the themes are somewhat bleak, but that’s probably because… *gesticulates wildly* You know. I do like that the final inclusion is a poem of hope though, or rather, a plea for something to hope for.
If you’re a fan of poetry and words, this is definitely a book you should consider. ___
So, what do we think? Should I review more adult books? More poetry books?
Here seems like the perfect place for the book’s blurb…
When the skies turn deadly, a young heroine must rise from the ashes…
Twelve-year-old Amberley Jain has faced incredible challenges since the crash that took her parents and paralysed her legs. Now, with her best friend Ricardo Lopez about to be sent away and a swarm of mutated insects closing in on the Skyfleet base, the stakes have never been higher. Something monstrous is driving the mutabugs north from the contaminated meteor site known as the Cauldron, and the only plane capable of stopping it – the Firehawk – lies in pieces in the hangar.
Determined to honour her parents’ legacy, Amberley hatches a daring plan. With Ricardo’s help, they stow away on a supply train, trading his most treasured possession for the parts needed to repair the Firehawk. After secret test flights, the legendary jet is ready for action. Now, Amberley and Ricardo must confront the deadly swarm and save their home, discovering their inner strength and the true meaning of friendship along the way.
Firstly, I wish I could go back in time and give this book to 12-year-old me. At that point, I was desperate to be Han Solo, and the idea of a child my age, getting to pilot something as cool as the Firehawk would have guaranteed obsession over this book from me. Actually, the whole thing feels reminiscent of my own childhood – there are Han Solo Star Wars elements in there, but there are also shades of Starship Troopers,* Disney’s Rescue Rangers, and Gerry Anderson’s Thunderbirds. There are fact files about the individual aircraft – something pretty much guaranteed to appeal to any Pokemon fans out there. Case in point; as youngest was reading, much page-flicking occurred in an effort to decide which craft would be best-suited to deal with which incoming Mutabug species.
I have to admit – I stayed up way past my bedtime reading this and have absolutely no regrets. It was so much fun to lose myself in brightly-coloured escapist adventure again, in a way I haven’t for years. Certainly not since the first time I watched Pacific Rim.
My singular qualm about this book was the layout – it took a bit of coaxing to get the aforementioned youngest kiddo to dive in because of the tiny page margins. I think the blocks of text seemed slightly intimidating. Admittedly, said kiddo is 9, and perhaps a little younger than the main target audience, but it’s worth mentioning in case other small folk out there also find packed pages slightly off-putting. That being the case, it might be a book to read together, rather than to send a young reader off with.
On top of that, I found the change in font for the dialogue when characters were talking over the radio slightly distracting, but as my reading sped up as the book went on, I got used to it, and can definitely see why the decision to differentiate was made.
Otherwise, this was a stonkingly good romp that felt nostalgic without being old-hat. I really hope it’s the start of a series. I’ll definitely be passing out a few copies this Christmas.
Huge thanks to The Write Reads for this book, and to the author for the incredibly fun ARC pack – and massive thanks to Sabrina at Booktails for the photo.**
___ *Don’t judge my parents too harshly – they didn’t know I was watching this. Or if they did, they turned a blind eye to my sneaky video-mislabelling antics.
**So, little known fact about me; I use a Nokia flip phone rather than a smart phone. It’s something I started doing in 2016 as a way to stay sane. For the most part, it’s excellent, but for photos… less so. I do have an old DSLR which I use when I’m out and about, but as its currently got its macro lens on for a uni project, it’s of less use for photographing Mutabugs… They’re much too big!
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I’ve set up a ‘bookshop‘ of sorts, over on Bookshop.org, so that I can point you to somewhere to buy that isn’t Amazon. I get a small commission for any sales made there. This helps to support me running this blog. If you’d like to get your copy of Skyfleet this way, please just click here. Thank you for your support.
To date, I don’t think I’ve ever reviewed the same book twice, but since Youngest wanted to review The Legendary Mo Seto the first time round, I jumped at the chance to add my own thoughts about the book to this second blog tour.
I’ve said already that everyone in my family – even my non-reading husband! – loved this book. Whilst we all enjoyed the plot, for me, the characters were what really made this story a special one. I loved the dynamic between Mo’s parents, and the way that each of her parents had a very different type of relationship with her – it’s one of those rare books where the family felt real rather than a cast of actors performing the set roles of mother and father. I loved that the adults in the books all had pasts – pasts which included hopes and regrets which impacted the way they dealt with the events of the plot.
And Gramps! I loved Gramps so much – I’ve been searching for such a long time for fictional older male characters who show love and sorrow in ways other than shutting their loved-ones out of their lives. For anyone (like me) who got wildly frustrated at Carl in Disney’s Up! for pushing Russell away, Gramps is the perfect antidote.
I loved the detail in the character building – that every film with Cody Kwan in was Mo’s favourite. I loved that Nacho drew a tattoo on his hand in Sharpie (who didn’t, as a teenager?!). I loved the complexity of Dax – Mo’s rival – and the way in which the author managed to tell so much of his story in a few pages, without it feeling like exposition. The dialogue there was *chef’s kiss*. I loved the way that Nacho’s family and Mo’s sort of bled into one another – the way that families do when children have known one another since the age of five.
The entire thing left me hoping for a sequel – I want to be able to go back and revisit these characters which feel real enough to come across as old friends.
And it has been a LONG time since any book made me feel that way.
Have you had the chance to read The Legendary Mo Seto yet? Do you know of any other books about martial arts movies that I can pass to the rest of my family who are absolutely hooked?
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I’ve set up a ‘bookshop‘ of sorts, over on Bookshop.org, so that I can point you to somewhere to buy that isn’t Amazon. I get a small commission for any sales made there. This helps to support me running this blog. If you’d like to get your copy of The Legendary Mo Seto this way, please just click here. Thank you for your support.
THE INQUISITIVE NEWT 