“That, children, is the tale of the hard nut. And now you know why people are apt to say: ‘That was a hard nut to crack.’ And now you know why Nutcrackers are so hideous.”

First and foremost, I have only read Hoffman’s

Nutcracker and Mouse King—not the (longer) Dumas retelling that's also included in this volume. It initially sounded interesting to read the two back-to-back since they’re fairly short, which is why I picked this edition...except I didn't really like Hoffman's

Nutcracker. Perhaps I'll try Dumas’s interpretation at some point, perhaps not.

Nutcracker is a fairy tale, and maybe it’s my fault for not being more familiar with traditional (ie non-Disnified) fairy tales but the story is just

so weird. The “plot” is kind of all over the place and relies heavily on implication to the point that it’s difficult to follow what’s happening. I was only really invested when Marie was an active participant in the tale, rather than being told the unending story of Frau Mouserink. Speaking of Marie: how old is she? She acts like a child, but by the end

she’s engaged

. What?

I did enjoy the descriptions of the festive decorations: there’s something quite cozy about reading about nineteenth century Christmas trees with lighted boughs and gingerbread men cookies and realizing how far back some of these Christmas traditions reach. Similarly, Drosselmeier’s creations are a joy to discover, with their quaint details and intricate clockwork mechanisms. And finally, the realm that Marie explores at last is absolutely delightful, a possible inspiration for Roald Dahl’s chocolate factory with rivers of lemonade and honey and houses of gingerbread and…dolphins drawing shell-shaped vehicles? (As with everything else, the tale goes a bit off the deep end.) Hoffman also has a tendency to refer directly to the reader by whatever name suits his fancy, which gives the delightful effect of being told a story as a child.

Overall, though,

Nutcracker and Mouse King was a disappointment, confusing and boring and without any of the themes that I’d expected a Christmas fairytale to have. Apart from some nice atmospheric touches, the most interesting thing about the story is that I believe it seems to be the origin of the phrase “hard nut to crack.”

Some favorite passages:

For the entire twenty-fourth of December, the children of Medical Officer Stahlbaum were not permitted to step inside the intermediary room, much less the magnificent showcase next door.

So if any of the beautiful clocks in Stahlbaum’s home fell ill and couldn’t sing, Godfather Drosselmeier would come by, remove his glass periwig, take off his snug yellow vest, tie on a blue apron, and insert sharp instruments into the gears. It was very painful for little Marie, but it didn’t harm the clock at all. In fact, the clock even grew lively, and it started cheerfully humming, striking, and singing again, much to everyone’s delight.

I turn to you, gentle reader or listener—Fritz, Theodor, Emst—or whatever your name may be, and I picture you vividly at your last Christmas table, which is richly adorned with gorgeous, multicolored presents. You will then envisage how the children halted, in silence and with shining eyes.

The huge fir tree in the center carried many gold and silver apples, and, like buds and blossoms, the sugared almonds and colorful bonbons and goodness knows what other tidbits emerged from all the branches. However, the loveliest and most praiseworthy feature of the wonder tree was the myriad of tiny lights that twinkled like tiny stars in its dark boughs.

and he gave the children a few lovely tan men and women with golden hands, legs, and faces. They were made entirely out of the fanciest gingerbread and they were so sweet and pleasant as to greatly delight Fritz and Marie.

The father then removed him cautiously from the table and, raising the wooden cape aloft, the manikin opened his mouth wide, wide, and showed two rows of very sharp, very tiny white teeth. When told to do so, Marie inserted a nut and—Crack! Crack!—he chewed up the nut, so that the shell dropped away, and the sweet kernel itself ended up in Marie’s hand.

However, Marie could not finish. For when she pronounced Drosselmeier’s name, Friend Nutcracker’s face twisted up devilishly, and his eyes virtually emitted sparkling green prickles. But the moment Marie tried to get properly released, she was again viewed by the mournfully smiling face of honest Nutcracker. And now she knew that it was the draft and the quickly blazing ray of the lamp that had totally distorted his features.

The big, gilded owl perching on the clock had lowered its wings, covering the whole timepiece and poking forth the ugly cobblestone with the hooked nose. And the noises grew louder, and words could be made out: “Clock, tick, tock, clock, tick, tock! And everyone has to hum softly, hum softly. After all, Mouse King has a fine ear.

“Pendulum, had to hum, didn’t wish to fit, clocks, clocks, clock pendulum, had to hum, softly hum, bells boom, bells blast, limp and lame and honk and hunk, doll girl, don’t worry, scurry, ring the bell, bell is rung, bell is sung, to drive away Mouse King today, now the owl comes flying fast, pack and pick and pick and pack, chimes are jingly, clocks, hum, hum, pendulums have to hum, pick wouldn’t stick, hum and hum and purr and purr!”

And indeed, Marie soon heard a louder plashing and splashing and she spotted the broad Lemonade River. In proud, cream-colored waves, it rippled away amid green-glowing, garnet-shining shrubs.

“That’s Gingerbreadhome,” said Nutcracker. “It lies on Honey River and it’s inhabited by very lovely people. But they’re mostly grouchy because they suffer terribly from toothaches. That’s why we’re not going inside.”

Marie noticed a shell-shaped vehicle coming from far away and drawn by two dolphins covered with golden scales.

Though Marie was not allowed to talk about her adventures, the images of that wondrous fairyland hovered around her in sweetly rushing billows and gracious, charming sounds. She looked at everything once more, focusing sharply. And so, in lieu of playing as usual, she sat there, quiet and rigid and deeply self-absorbed. That is why everyone scolded her for being a little “dreamer.”

I found myself (unexpectedly) obsessed with the first two books in this series. However, by the time I got to

The Last Star,

everything seemed stale and melodramatic: Yancey's prose (The philosophic musings:

"For some, death is the midwife to faith. For others, it is faith's exocutioner." The short, choppy, stream-of-conciousness sentences:

"And cold. Not the cold of a walk-in freezer or the cold of this never-ending f***ing winter. The cold of dry ice. The cold that burns." The over-the-top metaphors: thinking of chains, sharks, and

"I'm thinking of the night I

landed on the shores of Evanland and planted my flag upon that sculpted beach

."); the characters (Cassie was starting to drive me insane); and the plot (it doesn't seem like a lot of progress has been made since the start of the series, and after so many twists I got bored of the whole

what's-the-purpose-of-them-ending-the-world debate).

That being said, I still really enjoyed the series and the ending was fantastic. And I still smiled while reading some of Yancey's dreamy, romantic renderings:

"His forehead touching mine and the stars turning over us and the Earth beneath us, and time silpping, slipping." At the end of the day, what else can you ask for?

I read this as a kid and I still remember that magical last line: "The hat filled up with stars."

Unfortunately, this was a disappointment. While it was a quick read that kept me engaged, it was missing many of the elements of John's personality that initially got me hooked on the series. In the earlier books it was fascinating to watch John struggle with his serial killer tendencies, but in this installment he was more or less an empty shell. I understand that characters evolve, but it's unfortunate that John evolved to be so.....

boring.

Renee Ahdieh has the rare gift of being able to describe tiny details - the way footprints disappear quickly on a black onyx floor, the never ending sand and sun - in a way that shows enough to be utterly absorbing without being distracting or burdensome.

I vaguely recall reading a quote about how the best writers will show you the room but allow you to paint it. In other words, they will give context but allow your imagination to fill in the details and take command of the story. This is one of the things that is most endearing about the written word over visual mediums, and Ahdieh is a master at taking advantage of it.

I will say that she does take some liberties in her use of the English language and twisting the meanings of some less common words, but I'll call it "artistic license" and roll with it.

Laini Taylor doesn't disappoint: as always, her stories are haunting, her settings are immersive, and her prose is breathtaking.

Each of the three short stories contained in this collection is a standalone, so I am going to review them as such.

Goblin Fruit

5 stars

By far and away, this first story was my favorite of the three. Taylor's writing is as wild and eclectic and colorful as Kizzy, and she manages to put into words that which we all, I think, have felt:

Kizzy wanted it all so bad her soul leaned half out of her body hungering after it, and that was what drove the goblins wild, her soul hanging out there like an untucked shirt.

Who hasn't wanted to be someone else or, more powerfully, to

be wanted by someone else?

Combined with swan wings and pearl handled stiletto knives and ghosts dancing deasil round the living.....this was beautiful and powerful and, yes, I cried.

Spicy Little Curses

4 stars

If

Goblin Fruit was wild and eclectic and raw,

Spicy Little Curses was more exotic and romantic and, well, spicy.

Kissing can ruin lives. Lips touch, sometimes teeth clash. New hunger is born with a throb and caution falls away. A cursed girl with lips still moist from her first kiss might feel suddenly wild, like a little monsoon. She might forget her curse just long enough to get careless and let it come true. She might kill everyone she loves.

She might, and she might not.

What an opening. The sense of atmosphere is amazing - I could

feel India - and the characters are more slow and deliberate, as is the romance (well, as slow and deliberate as a short story will allow). It is beautiful and amazing, if slightly less profound for me. If only these were published in a different order!

Hatchling

3 stars

The longest of the three, and boy does it feel like it. Of course, it's impossible to truly dislike anything written in Taylor's style, but the characters, plot, and, yes, even the settings - usually so decadent and enticing - failed to grip me. It was almost - dare I say it? -

bland. Annnnnnnnd......that's all I have to say.

DNF @ 15%.

Too weird for me. I didn't really realize how much of the story was historical fiction about Pontius Pilate. Maybe I'll come back to it at some point.

DNF @ 7%.

I just didn't find this very engaging from a storytelling perspective. I'd rather just read Lewis's nonfiction theology.

DNF at 17%.

I love VanderMeer's prose, and the characters felt like they had real depth, but the world was just too weird. Not for me.

DNF @ 40%.

This was truly terrible, and I am absolutely shocked to see all the positive reviews. The first quarter of the book was completely pointless and could have been left out entirely, and it didn't pick up much after that (40% of the way through, after nothing much had happened, I skipped to the end. I have NEVER done this, but it was the best decision I made tonight since the big ending with all it's "revelations" was entirely expected and not at all surprising or scary). Maud was truly a terrible person who I couldn't stand--she was vicious and whiny and judgmental. And the prose..... I had such high hopes, but the prose was less engaging than many of my college textbooks. I never felt immersed in any of the scenes, which felt like they had been dutifully recorded with the skill of a teenager marking down what they had for breakfast in their journal.