At the age of sixteen, Rhine only has four more years left to live. Two generations ago, scientists found a way to create genetically perfect humans, impervious to all known diseases or mutations. But something went wrong, and the children of this first generation of perfect humans die inexplicably at a very young age: girls at the age of twenty, boys at the age of twenty-five. Geneticists are racing against time to find an antidote, but as the first generation dies out, the world is full of poverty, starvation, and orphans hoping to find some meaning before they die before their time.
Reviews
Review: The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss
*Author’s note: Minor spoilers follow. If you’re a purist, stop reading now.
I’d like to start this review out by saying that I’m not usually a huge fan of high fantasy. Oh, I’ve read many of the classics–J. R. R. Tolkien, the first few books of The Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan, even some Terry Goodkind. But left to my own devices, I’m much more likely to gravitate towards urban fantasy or science fiction.
But when a good friend sang high praises of Rothfuss’ as-yet unfinished Kingkiller Chronicle, I decided to give the first book a whirl. And I am certainly glad I did.
The novel follows Kvothe, a young man who spends the early part of his life as a traveling trouper, following his actor and musician parents as they journeyed from town to town, performing plays and ballads at inns and town halls.
Review: The Scorpio Races
I discovered Maggie Stiefvater much later than everyone else. I would always see her first book Shiver while browsing at the library, but I’ve never been a huge fan of werewolves so I never checked it out. Boy, was I wrong. After reading this book, I believe that Stiefvater is one of the most talented YA writers out there at the moment, and I fully intend to add all of her books to my TBR pile.
The Scorpio Races takes place on a windblown island off the coast of Britain. Each year, throughout the month of October, vicious flesh-eating water-horses known as capaill uisce are drawn to the shores of the island. Those brave enough to catch and tame the horses compete in a race at the beginning of November, risking their lives for prize money and glory. Some live. Some die.