Personal response

Source:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Whole-Truth-Cara-Hunter-ebook/dp/B0828Q7226/ref=sr_1_1?cri
d=2236SCYUYMZ48&keywords=books+bestsellers+2021&psr=EY17&qid=1636647425&s=
black-friday&sprefix=bopk%2Cblack-friday%2C331&sr=1-1

The Cookster
TOP 100 REVIEWERVINE VOICE
5.0 out of 5 stars
Hugely impressive! ... A fine example of how to write a modern police procedural.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 16 April 2021
Verified Purchase
Rating: 4.6/5

Given that this is the fifth book in this series, it is fair to say that I am a little late turning up to the
party. For any prospective readers who may find themselves in a similar situation, I can assure
you that this will not impair your enjoyment of this novel in the slightest. Author, Cara Hunter,
even goes as far as to provide a little background précis of the central characters at the start of
the book, which shows wonderful practical consideration for her audience.

This is the finest example of a police procedural that I have read to date. I am frequently irked by
books from this genre. The format is so often hackneyed with stereotypical characters and plots
that are ridiculously far-fetched, scripted in yawningly melodramatic fashion. None of the
aforementioned criticisms apply here.

I won't even begin to rehash the plot in this review. There is adequate information in the official
synopsis to get you started, so you don't need any potential spoilers from me to detract from you
own enjoyment of uncovering the story for yourself.

The characters are all well-drawn and credible. The plot is believable, compelling and has been
carefully and tightly constructed. The pace of the novel is practically faultless. There are sections
that are somewhat more considered, but only when it is appropriate for them to be so - and there
are other times when I was left almost breathless as events briskly unfurled.

The author also makes great use of some literary / publishing mechanics that really embellish
and enhance the overall impact of the book. In contrast to most types of fiction, I often feel that
police procedurals work better as televisual dramatisations rather than on the printed page. Cara
Hunter has found a way to present her work in a way that comes close to offering the best of
both worlds. I have no doubt that this series would translate very well onto the small screen, but
even in book form it offers an enjoyably immersive experience to the reader.

I don't give out many 5-star ratings for book reviews, but "The Whole Truth" absolutely deserves
the top mark. If you are a fan of police procedurals, a fan of crime fiction in general ... or just
someone who enjoys good, well-written fiction of any genre, then you really should put this on
your reading list.
Even though it might not be a modelic example of personal response, there are several features
that define this as such. First of all, the writer uses the personal pronoun ‘I’ throughout the whole
text, stating with it his personal opinion. There are several examples of opinion statements such
as ‘It is fair to say that’, ‘I can assure’, ‘I have no doubt’. The evaluative lexis is somewhat simple
and abundant. Finally, there are positive feelings express directly such as ‘I was left breathless’
and some in an indirect manner such as ‘This is the finest example’.

Review - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (2001)

Source: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0241527/reviews/?ref_=tt_ql_urv

This review has the three elements in its schematic structure. The first paragraph provides
contextual information about the director of the film, and it is mentioned that the film is an
adaptation of a series of books. The second paragraph provides information about the most
important characters of the film, but it is true that in this paragraph, there is very little
information about the plot. I would say that an explanation of the plot is the only part that is
missing in this review. Finally, the third paragraph offers the writer’s subjective opinion about
the text. Therefore, this review follows a clear structure.

Character analysis

<MOVIE INTRODUCTION AND CHARACTER PRESENTATION>

I’ve seen Ridley Scott’s 1982 masterpiece Blade Runner probably 10 times and it
took me a fair few viewings before I could even attempt to explain what the movie
was about. That may have been some of the problem it had when it was released; it
was gorgeous to look at but it is emotionally distant. Upon recently watching the film
again, amid the gawking at how gorgeous it is every time I see it, it finally hit me what
the film is ultimately about: humanity. Duh, right? A movie about robots wanting to
extend their life is about humanity? You don’t say! But it’s deeper than that. I always
thought that the replicants, specifically Rutger Hauer’s Roy Batty, were far and away
the most interesting characters, and Harrison Ford’s Rick Deckard, the titular “Blade
Runner,” was pretty boring and unlikeable. But that, my dear friends, is the point. It’s
taken me ten viewings to realize, Deckard is boring because he doesn’t know what it
means to be human. He also might be the least heroic hero in science fiction.

Now, I’m not talking about whether he is or is not a replicant; that’s for other nerds to
debate. There’s evidence either way and the ambiguity is part of why the film is great.
So for the purposes of this argument, let’s set aside this argument. What do we know
about Rick Deckard at the beginning of the film? He is a guy who is good at his job,
maybe the best, but one who a) doesn’t do it anymore and b) doesn’t WANT to do it
anymore. He keeps saying he’s retired and it’s only when faced with arrest that he
agrees to take on the task of hunting down escaped replicants. So he is his job and,
in the eyes of many people, he’s only as good as his job, but he doesn’t like it. In
essence, he’s creatively unfulfilled.

Second, he lives alone and, until his fling with Rachael, he doesn’t seem like he has
many visitors. He has many pictures of people, but they all are black & white and
seem very old, so he doesn’t have much of a family presence either. He’s the typical
cipher, a character about whom the audience knows little. This had to have been
intentional. As a reference to the hardboiled detective noir of the ’40s and ’50s,
Deckard is the man without a past and largely without a future. We truly learn nothing
about his situation from the film other than he plays piano and daydreams about
unicorns.

What we do know is that he’s kind of a dick. He seems to have little regard for life,
and even less regard for replicant life. He has no problem destroying poor Rachael’s
entire belief system by rather callously telling her she isn’t a human, but rather a
replicant implanted with the memories of her creator’s niece. Sure, he feels bad
about it later, but he seems to think nothing of crushing this poor woman at the time.
And even after he’s apologized and she’s saved his life, he’s more than a little rough
with her, all but forcing her to have sex with him. Even if he “likes” her, it still seems
like he thinks of her as an object.

He also shoots women. At the start of the film, he’s hired to hunt down and “retire”
four replicants, two men and two women. Rachael kills Leon, and Roy Batty dies of
old age, so the only two he actually manages to retire are the women. He shoots
Zhora in the back as she tries to run away, and he shoots Pris after she’s managed to
beat him up pretty badly. Both of these cases are quite unheroic and keep him firmly
in the category of “unsympathetic” character. What kind of a man shoots women in
the back? In any other Hollywood movie, he would be the bad guy for doing this, but
 because these particular women are fugitives, and specifically synthetic fugitives,
they are not considered people. We’re told that these women are violent killers, but
they just seem to be trying to live quietly.

For the entire movie, Deckard has been about as unlikeable and unknowable a
character as any in science fiction. But this changes when he finally confronts Roy
Batty. In the film’s best sequence, Roy chases Deckard through the Bradbury
building, taunting him all the way. He breaks Deckard’s pinky and ring finger on his
gun hand in retribution for his killing the women. Deckard runs for his life, feebly
jumping across rooftops and landings, while Batty merely hops. Batty could easily kill
him at any moment, but just as Deckard clings to a parapet, Batty pulls him up and
saves him. Batty, who has been a murderer the whole film, realizes his own life is
ending and killing Deckard won’t change that. His final words, and his desperation to
extend his brief existence, give Deckard an appreciation for his own life and his
desire to create one worth living. Deckard is silent through all of this, and in versions
of the film without narration, he barely says anything for the whole rest of the movie.
He doesn’t need to.

<CHARACTER JUDGEMENT>

Rick Deckard is far more than simply the lead character in the film; he’s a flawed and
complex anti-hero who learns what being a person means through his interactions
with those who are not “real.” At the beginning of the film, he is far more machine-like
than any of the skin jobs he’s made to hunt and it’s because of them, specifically
Batty and Rachael, that he understands what it truly means to be human.

This is not exactly a modelic character analysis; although the main elements are indeed
present, and we can certainly deduce the text’s genre from them, its register is much more
colloquial than those seen during class in Christie and Derewianka.

Source: Nerdist.

Thematic interpretation

<PREVIEW >

It is not uncommon for Poe to use first-person narration in his stories. In fact, the
majority of Poe’s short stories use this type of narration. The narrator of “The Fall of
the House of Usher,” however, is unique in that he is unidentified aside from his
gender. The story contains no descriptions of his physical features, his age, or where
he is traveling from. Apart from his boyhood friendship with Roderick, his history is
unknown. This is all intentional: Poe designed the character as a surrogate, or
stand-in, for the reader. The absence of a specific description of his character allows
the reader to easily identify with the narrator. In effect, the reader assumes the role of
the narrator and experiences the fall of the house of Usher as both an observer and a
participant—just as Poe intended. Poe sought to inspire powerful emotional
 responses to his stories. “The Fall of the House of Usher” is carefully crafted to elicit
feelings of dread, stress, and, above all, what it calls “the grim phantasm, FEAR.”

<ELEMENT EVALUATION>

In “The Fall of the House of Usher,” the setting, diction, and imagery combine to
create an overall atmosphere of gloom. Death and decay are evoked at the outset.
The story opens on a “dull, dark, and soundless day” in a “singularly dreary tract of
country.” As the narrator notes, it is autumn, the time of year when life begins to give
way to old age and death. The house is as melancholic as its environment. A mere
glimpse of the Usher mansion inspires in the narrator “an iciness, a sinking, a
sickening of the heart.” Upon entering the house, the reader as the narrator
navigates through a series of dark passages lined with carvings, tapestries, and
armorial trophies. Poe draws heavily on Gothic conventions, using omens and
portents, heavy storms, hidden passageways, and shadows to set the reader on
edge. The overwhelming sensation is one of entrapment.

Whether the reader is trapped by the house or by its inhabitants is unclear. Poe uses
the term house to describe both the physical structure and the family. On the one
hand, the house itself appears to be actually sentient, just as Roderick claims. Its
windows are described as “eye-like,” and its interior is compared to a living body.
Roderick suspects that the house controls its inhabitants. On the other hand, there
are plenty of strange things about the Usher family. For one, “the entire family lay in
the direct line of descent,” meaning that only one son from each generation survived
and reproduced. Poe implies incestuous relations sustained the genetic line and that
Roderick and Madeline are the products of extensive intermarriage within the Usher
family.

In the end, both houses “die” at the same time: Madeline falls on her brother, and the
mansion collapses.

There is no appreciable element reiteration in this thematic interpretation. Otherwise, this

follows the model presented in Christie and Derewianka. Some synoptic elements are also
present, but the focus of the text seems to be thematic above all else.

Source: Encyclopaedia Britannica.