Shaina Reads

Elizabeth Sanderson's son Tommy has gone missing. He was supposed to be spending the night with his friends Josh and Luis, tromping around their private Minecraft server, but a midnight trip into neighboring Borderland State Park has swallowed him up. Josh and Luis's lips are sealed, and it's only over the course of a few hundred twisty, ominous pages that the full truth of their night at Devil's Rock comes out.

At first, I thought I wasn't crazy about this book, but then I remembered what I was comparing it to. Tremblay's A Head Full of Ghosts did such a thorough job of blowing my socks off back in February that anything would have had its work cut out for it as a follow-up. Part of the problem is that I went in expecting more of the same genre, but this books reads much more like a mystery or thriller than a straight-up scare-fest. In A Head Full of Ghosts, there was horror lurking in every room of the Barrett home. Tremblay takes that tasty melodrama down a notch in Disappearance at Devil's Rock, focusing more on the possibly even more horrific reality of a child, a sibling, a friend disappearing in the deep, dark woods.

I loved that Tremblay played around with perspective, taking us inside most of the characters' heads, and I particularly enjoyed it when he switched up the format. Parts of the story are told through handwritten excerpts from Tommy's diary (including a particularly creepy drawing that had me spooked for an entire evening), transcripts of police interviews with Tommy's friends, and present-tense flashbacks of previous visits to the landmark where it all began.

Really, I think my only legitimate problem with the book was the abundance of Minecraft references. Then again, it's a contemporary story revolving around pre-teen boys. How authentic would it have been otherwise?

At first the protags of DISAPPEARANCE AT DEVIL'S ROCK annoyed me, but then I realized they're middle schoolers. Of course they're annoying.

— Shaina (@shainareads) May 5, 2016

Disappearance at Devil's Rock has aged well in my memory, and I think any fan of the creepier side of the mystery and thriller genres would enjoy it. Either save A Head Full of Ghosts for later, or know that you're going in for a much different ride.

I received Disappearance at Devil's Rock from William Morrow/HarperCollins for review consideration.

Goodness gracious, you guys, putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) has been a struggle lately. This isn't an entirely bad thing. My dedication to unplugging and chilling has taken root, and I've been catching up on good TV, spending time with friends, baking delicious treats, and starting and abandoning books with gusto. Still, I do miss bumming around in the book blogosphere and, you know, actually finishing the books that I begin.

Thankfully, I think I've finally found two that will stick. Underground Airlines by Ben H. Winters was one of my most anticipated BEA galley-grabs, and so far it has not disappointed. It's essentially a detective novel set in an alternate history in which the Civil War never happened. Let me tell you, it makes for some perfect beach reading.

A photo posted by Shaina (@shainareadsbooks) on Jun 18, 2016 at 11:26am PDT

I also started the audio of Grass by Sheri S. Tepper over the weekend. I've been meaning to read some Tepper ever since my boyfriend's mom recommended her science-fiction to me, and this one has the added bonus of being set during the onset of a plague (one of my Books on the Nightstand bingo squares!).

I hosted my first ever #chillafathon this past weekend. I use the term "hosted" very loosely, since I basically stopped checking in on the hashtag by Saturday. I don't feel guilty, because this event was about making a concerted effort to take a load off. I'm not good at that by nature, and after a particularly trying couple of weeks and a brain buzzing with anxiety, I knew something had to give.

And it was wonderful. I read. I slept. I tidied my apartment. I took myself out for a wonderful dinner. I made spontaneous plans with friends. I drank a good deal of beer and wine. I honestly can't remember the last time that I relaxed so thoroughly. Even now, by mid-week, I am calm.

It's a good time to be calm. If you've stuck around Shaina Reads for a while, you know that I believe in knowing what's going on in the world and bearing witness to all of it, good and bad. A lot of bookish people feel the same way, and I love this about them. They are so engaged with raising up the voices of those who would otherwise go unheard and exposing the atrocities in the world for what they are.

Naturally, on Sunday, everyone in my Twitter feed was reeling from the news of the massacre in Orlando in my home state of Florida.

That day, I remembered my commitment to taking care of myself (to the spirit of #chillafathon, which suddenly seemed like such a glib moniker) and made a deliberate decision to log off. The news of the shooting was devastating, but I knew that scrolling through social media all day would not change that. I went to the park with friends, and then we met others at a concert. The performers asked for a moment of silence for Orlando, and I closed my eyes and thought about how grateful I was that people I knew from high school were safe and how sorry I was that so many more were not. And then I enjoyed the music.

It's so easy to feel guilty for taking a step back, but an acquaintance from college, one committed to making the world safe for anyone who does not identify as straight and cisgender, put why we shouldn't so well:


There's so much more to say, but I'll leave it at that. Take care, each and every one of you.

All right, y'all. It's been a week.

My brain is currently home to a rich, simmering stew of anxiety. I will leave my job in 50 days, but, before that, I will run an eight-week internship program with all the bells and whistles and train my replacement. I will then move my entire life across the country and, just a few weeks later, start graduate school. These are all very good and exciting changes, mind you, but this would be a lot to handle for someone who's good with change. To no one's surprise, I am not one of those people.

It's been messing with my reading life. It's been messing with my blogging life (hence my radio silence this week). It's been messing with just about every aspect of my life, and something's gotta give.

My boyfriend goes out of town this evening, and I'm going to have three whole days to myself to decompress in any way I like. Naturally, it's time for a 'thon, but not just any 'thon. This is going to be a chillafathon.

What's a chillafathon, you ask? It's anything you want it to be. Want to read a whole bunch of books? Do it. Will you build yourself a stack, or fly by the seat of your pants? Whatever, man. Just go with it. Want to write reviews instead of read? Be my guest. Wanna just hang out on the #chillafathon hashtag and unwind with other bookish folk? You do you.

There are no challenges, no posts, and no prizes. This is the epitome of minimalism, because screw anything that might harsh this event's mellow.

Right now, I'm thinking about putting my feet up with a stack of books and having myself a little tasting party to see what sticks. Maybe I won't do that. Who cares, really? It's all good.

Those of you who've stuck around here for a while have witnessed my transformation from an adamant audiobook denier to a born-again audiophile. Nowadays, I always have an audiobook going in addition to whatever I'm reading in physical format. After listening to more than 15 books in just under a year, I've noticed a few specific situations in which audiobooks work better for me than their print brethren.

I want to note that everything I am about to say is very dependent on a book's narrator. I have been lucky so far to avoid any truly terrible (or even lackluster) performances, but even the most wonderful book will suffer at the hands of a sub-par narrator.

When the print doesn't work 

(This is Captain Obvious, reporting for duty.) I have wanted to read The Killing Moon by N. K. Jemisin ever since Julianne started raving about it. Despite having the print copy out from my library for months now (yes, some libraries have check-out periods that long, may your hearts be still), the story just hasn't clicked for me in print. After listening to and loving Jemisin's The Fifth Season, I realized that her stories may flow better for me in audio format. I'm happy to report that I'm an hour into the audiobook of The Killing Moon and foresee smooth sailing from here on out. The next time you aren't getting into a book and can't put your finger on why, consider giving the audio version a shot.

When the prose is spare 

Lush prose certainly works well for audiobooks (hello again, The Fifth Season), but I find that narration can make the biggest difference when you're dealing with leaner writing. Nnedi Okorafor's Who Fears Death is an excellent example of a book that I may have abandoned had I read it in print. Okorafor's story of a young sorceress on a journey is gripping, but her straightforward writing style might have lost me if I'd had to use my eyes to read it. Read aloud by the fabulous Anne Flosnik, Okorafor's short, simple sentences crackled with life. I felt the same way about Donald Sutherland's narration of The Old Man and the Sea, which I had previously abandoned mere pages from the end.

When a book is very info-heavy

In the past, I have been wary about listening to nonfiction rather than reading it. What if there are fascinating details that I miss? Now that I've got two long but worthwhile nonfiction listens under my belt—Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow and NeuroTribes: The Legacy of Autism and the Future of Neurodiversity by Steve Silberman—I can safely say that I would never have remembered all of those details no matter the medium through which I consumed them. I also firmly believe that the narration helped carry me through some of the denser sections that I might still be wading through in a print copy.