Review: Fault Lines (by Emily Itami)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

 

It's not often that I make the decision to buy a book based on it's cover, but in the case of Emily Itami's debut novel Fault Lines, the cover art – a dark blue image of Tokyo's skyscape at night, overlaid by beautiful pink cherry blossoms -- was so gorgeous that I couldn't resist having it on my bookshelf so I could pull it out and look at it whenever I wanted.  I did end up checking out the plot summary after I bought the book and while it's one I was definitely interested in reading, I couldn't didn't jump in right away due to the LONG list of books I already had lined up that I needed to get to.   So of course, when one of my book clubs chose this book for their April selection, I was more than delighted to be given the excuse to finally get around to reading it (though not without some reservations about whether I would feel the same about the story as I did about the cover).  Now after having finished, I am happy to report that I really enjoyed the story, which I found to be by turns both delightful and thought- provoking.

 

At the center of the story is Mizuki, a Japanese housewife and mother of two young children (a 10-year-old daughter and 4-year-old son) who, after more than a decade of marriage, has fallen into a resigned complacency of sorts where her days are spent washing the dishes, folding the laundry, taking care of the kids, and being invisible to her extremely hardworking husband who oftentimes can't even be bothered to look at her when he's at home because he is too busy taking care of work matters on his phone.  One day, standing on the balcony of the glamorous high-rise apartment in Tokyo where she lives with her family, Mizuki has the sudden urge to throw herself over the railing.  She doesn't succeed in killing herself of course (not a spoiler), but the incident makes her realize just how mundane and depressing her life has become.  She loves her children deeply, but also yearns for the emotional connection that she used to have with her husband, Tatsuya, back early in their courtship and marriage, when she used to feel seen and appreciated as a partner.  So it is that when she meets Kiyoshi, a charismatic and hugely successful restauranteur, she is drawn to his easy-going nature and they become good friends.  When she's with Kiyoshi, Mizuki is reminded of the person she used to be – funny, charming, and perfectly happy roaming around the city she loves, admiring the sights and sounds, eating good food, and having meaningful conversation with someone who understands her and genuinely cares about her.  But as their relationship deepens, Mizuki finds it more and more difficult to reconcile her devotion to her family and the obligations of motherhood with the happy, carefree existence she has with Kiyoshi. 

 

The entire story is told from Mizuki's first person of view, which I felt worked really well in this instance, as it made her struggles more real and heartfelt.  But I think what helped the most was the author Emily Itami's thoughtful and sensitive, yet entirely realistic portrayal of Mizuki as an ordinary woman struggling with universally relatable issues such as marriage, motherhood, family expectations, societal norms, etc. Itami presents Mizuki in a way that is sincere and honest, helping us understand the character completely through the good moments as well as the bad ones so we can make sense of why Mizuki makes the decisions she does – the effect of this, for me, was that even though I didn't agree with some of those decisions, I couldn't help empathizing with Mizuki and rooting for her along the way. 

Another aspect I really appreciated about the story was how emotionally resonant it ended up being.  I'm not married and I don't have children, yet I was still able to relate to Mizuki's struggle with understanding and reconciling her life choices with the reality of how her life turned out. I resonated especially with Mizuki's conflicting feelings toward her identity and culture — more specifically, feeling bound by the constraints of cultural and societal expectations in her various roles as wife, mother, daughter, friend, etc., yet when the opportunity to be free of these bounds arises, feeling hesitant to take the first step out of fear of what the change might bring.  The beauty of this story is in its nuanced commentary on life and what it means to be a woman in contemporary Asian society.

One thing to note with this story is that, plot-wise, nothing much actually happens — instead, through Mizuki's experiences, we are treated to atmospheric and mesmerizing observations of a city that we get to know intimately by the end of the book. I've always wanted to visit Tokyo (it's one of my bucket list destinations) and after reading this book, that desire has grown even stronger.  Perhaps someday that will become a reality— in the meantime, I don't mind revisiting through the various descriptions in this book.

Review: The Golden Doves (by Martha Hall Kelly)



My Rating: 2.5 stars

For the second time this month, looks like I am once again an outlier who didn't like a book written by a popular author that everyone else seemed to really enjoy.  In both instances, the reasons why I disliked the books were very similar, even though the genres, styles, and story lines were completely different (more on this later).  The interesting thing is that, with both authors, I had read previous books by them and had enjoyed those immensely, but their newest releases I disliked to the point of nearly breaking my own rule and giving them the DNF treatment (in the end, I hung on, but barely, since I had to resort to skimming large sections of both books in order to get through them).  It's also possible that the previous books were also problematic, but I didn't notice at the time, and now having evolved as a reader, I'm perhaps more critical of things that maybe didn't bother me before.  Either way, both experiences have made me realize that I need to be even more selective with the books I decide to pick up (not that I wasn't selective before, as I've always been a lot pickier than most people I know when it comes to this stuff) – basically, I have enough to deal with in my life at the moment and I really don't want to add "frustrating reading experience" to it if I can help it…

 

Before I talk specifics about what bothered me with this particular book, I have to say that I did read Martha Hall Kelly's previous Lilac Girls series and thought those books were really well done – which is why I'm completely baffled as to how Kelly's newest release, The Golden Doves, ended up on the absolute opposite end of the spectrum for me.  Initially, going into this book, I was actually expecting to like it, not only because I had enjoyed Kelly's previous works, but also because the genre is historical fiction (which is my favorite genre) and the premise really did sound interesting:  two former female spies (the titular 'golden doves') who endured unspeakable atrocities during World War II join forces once again after the war is over to heroically take down a bunch of Nazi fugitives who had evaded justice.  Given this description, I assumed that I would be getting a thrilling, fast-paced espionage story with two strong, kickass female protagonists at its center (yes, a la Kate Quinn, whose works I adore).  Well, friends, that assumption was dead wrong!  What I ended up getting instead was a plot hole-filled, unnecessarily draggy, poorly-written, boring (I could keep going with the negative adjectives, but I will stop here) story featuring two naïve, immature, annoying-as-hell, frustratingly pathetic (which, believe it or not, is an understatement) female protagonists who were so stereotypically written, it's not even funny.  I mean, literally all you need to know is that Josie Anderson is American and Arlette LaRue is French – those identities essentially drive the entire story in that they dictate how the two women act, think, talk throughout much of this (unnecessarily long 500+ page) book. With Arlette especially, we are reminded time and time again throughout the entire story, both directly and indirectly, that she is a French woman (which to me, felt like the author was trying to use that to justify why Arlette behaves the way she does — namely, the constant flirting with men and always having to come across as 'sexy' and 'sensual').  And yes, both women were utterly unconvincing as spies – sure, it can be argued that both were recruited as teenagers (though this already doesn't make sense because why them??) so of course they would be immature, but the problem is, nearly a decade later, when they became grownups (both when they are apart and when they reunite), they still conducted themselves in exactly the same immature manner in nearly every circumstance.

 

For me, the biggest issue with this book was the way the characters were written, which can essentially be summarized in two words:  unrealistic and unlikeable.  First, Josie – she works as an agent at U.S. Army Intelligence, but she is impulsive, irrational, and has no sense of awareness or common sense whatsoever (as an example — in one scene, she knows someone is trying to kill her, yet after nearly getting run over, she walks into a hotel room without checking it first, immediately pours herself a drink, leaves her firearm in plain sight on the kitchen counter, then blindly pushes open another door, completely unaware that someone is following her).  Much of her behavior and actions throughout the story don't align with her job -- in fact, several characters she encounters throughout the story outright question whether she was ever trained because she kept doing stupid things.  And that's when she's an adult…as a teenager, she actually does even more ridiculous things, which, of course, is not surprising at that age – what's surprising is why she was chosen to be recruited as a spy in the first place. Of course, this also makes what happens at the end, with her career, entirely unplausible.

 

As far as Arlette goes, I honestly don't even know where to start.  While Josie's story arc was ridiculous but at least somewhat tolerable, Arlette's story arc was absolutely outrageous.  Pretty much all Arlette does for most of the story can be summarized as follows: 1) pine for her son, 2) flirt with every guy she encounters, 3) berate herself for being "pathetic" and "ridiculous" because of how easily she falls for men (especially the handsome ones — though it seems that, according to Arlette and Josie, every man they encounter – and there are plenty in this story -- who isn't a Nazi fugitive is "handsome" or "good-looking" in some way).  As an example of how outrageous and nonsensical Arlette's story arc got — I ended up skim-skipping most of the sections where Arlette was in French Guiana (which was, oh, like a third of the book) because a lot of it was useless fluff that didn't advance the plot much (except near the end), plus I got tired of reading about Arlette lusting after the bodyguard every couple pages (no exaggeration – there were actually scenes where Arlette spies on the guard taking a shower, or her blouse conveniently flies open in his presence somehow, or she's in a bathrobe when he suddenly enters the room for no reason – not to mention all the gratuitous references to the bodyguard's "beautiful eyes" or hot physique or whatnot) — it basically got into "steamy romance" territory, which to me, made absolutely no sense given what the story was supposed to be about.

 

Another thing that irked me about this book was that the entire narrative was written in first person, alternating between the "voices" of Josie and Arlette.  Normally, this would not be too much of a problem, but when both of the main characters are so unlikeable (and problematically written like they were here), to have to hear the story told from their perspective and be subjected to their every ridiculous, outlandish thought – well, let's just say it made this already tedious and frustrating read even more tortuous.  Interestingly enough, the last couple books I read that I didn't like (all new releases) were in the same format – first person point of view narrated by the main protagonist(s).  I noticed this format is used a lot with mysteries and thrillers, which I can understand, as the limited perspective could help build up the air of mystery or suspense in the story, but with historical fiction, it seems like it would be less effective…though I guess at the end of the day, doesn't matter too much as long as it's done correctly, which it obviously wasn't in this case, as it made the entire story sound stilted and awkward.

 

Overall, I was hugely disappointed with this book.  It actually had the potential to be a very powerful, emotional story about the Holocaust and its aftermath, while also shedding light on historical atrocities such as the Lebensborn program, the secret experiments at the concentration camps, the underground network that helped the most heinous of Nazi fugitives evade justice after the war, etc.  Unfortunately, Kelly took the story in an entirely wrong direction with the contrived plot and the ludicrously nonsensical (not to mention unrealistic) characters.  Ironically, the Author's Note at the end of the book actually does a good job of covering the historical details and also provides references for non-fiction books that cover these topics.  I mention this because I'm kicking myself now for wasting my time reading 500+ pages of a story that I disliked when I could've just read the Author's Note and found out everything I needed to know (including the basic plot and the ending, which there are major spoilers for in the Author's Note).   

 

To me, this book was a waste of time, but again, as I mentioned earlier, I'm an outlier with this one so don't just take my word for it.  If you're on the fence about whether to pick this one up or not (with the page count, it's actually quite a time investment), I would recommend checking out other reviews before deciding.

 

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

 

The Cuban Heiress (by Chanel Cleeton)

My Rating: 4 stars

After finishing a book last week that left a bad taste in my mouth, I needed a palette cleanser, a book that I knew I would likely enjoy.  Glancing through my options (amongst the list of April "upcoming" reads I hope to get to), I saw Chanel Cleeton's latest historical novel The Cuban Heiress and I knew that would be the perfect choice.  I've read 5 of Cleeton's books so far and while I enjoyed some of them more than others, I've never been disappointed in her ability to deliver the goods (a solid, satisfying read with compelling characters that are easy to root for). 

 

It's actually hard to talk about this story without giving some aspect of the plot away, so this review will be short, brief, and yes, a bit on the vague side (if the little that is mentioned piques your interest, then I definitely recommend picking this one up and reading it for yourself!).  

 

The story is based on a true event – the disaster that occurred aboard the luxury cruise ship Morro Castle during its voyage from Havana to New York back in 1934. Narrated from the alternating perspectives of the two female protagonists, Elena Palacio and Catherine Dohan, the story unfolded in a way that I felt was a little bit of a departure from Cleeton's last couple books -- whereas the focus with those were more on the historical aspects, this time around, the story seemed to lean more into the mystery / suspense vibe (which I'm totally fine with, since it was done well in this case) as well as the romantic relationships (which thankfully didn't overwhelm the story, so I'm fine with that as well).   Though I will admit that I was hoping there would be more emphasis on the historical aspect, especially about Cuba, since that was one of the areas I enjoyed most with Cleeton's previous novels.  While Cleeton does continue to pay tribute to her Cuban heritage in this story, there isn't as much focus on it in the sense that Cuban history doesn't play as heavily into the plot or the characters' lives compared to her previous works (aside from the fact that one of the characters, Elena, is Cuban, and one leg of the cruise ship's journey is to Havana, the primary events that drive the plot in this story actually have nothing to do with Cuba at all).   Not that I'm complaining though, since the story overall was well-written, intriguing, and engaging to the point that it held my interest and I found it hard to put down after I started reading it -- the way that the 2 characters' backstories were presented not only got me invested in how things would pan out for them, but also had me wondering throughout the entire time whether their stories would converge and if so, how?

 

One thing I did miss with this book is the lack of connection back to the Perez family.  Since Cleeton switched to writing historical fiction in 2018 with Next Year in Havana, which was the first book to feature the Perez family, she has included some kind of connection back to the family in each of her subsequent works (the stand alone ones that weren't direct sequels to the original).  For me, this was part of the fun with reading Cleeton's books — identifying that connection and also getting that sense of satisfaction from having remembered the particular character or relation or plot point back to the original story.  

All in all, this was another enjoyable read from an author whose works I know I can count on to get me out of a reading rut or, in this case, erase the disappointment of a previous less-than satisfying read.  I definitely look forward to reading whatever Cleeton has in store for us next!

Received ARC from Berkeley via NetGalley.

Review: The Soulmate (by Sally Hepworth)

My Rating:  2.5 stars

Before I start, just a quick disclaimer:  I'm one of the outliers who didn't like this book much, so I won't have too many good things to say about it in my review.  If this is going to be an issue for those reading this, then I suggest stopping right here.  Don't say I didn't warn you!

Ok, so here's my unpopular opinion: overall, I really really disliked this book — to the point that I  struggled to write this review because I had trouble choosing which of the myriad of "issues" to rant about.   Below is just a smattering of things I had a problem with (not all-inclusive of course). 

First, the writing, which to me, felt quite different from the previous Sally Hepworth novels I had read.  The writing this time around felt stilted and choppy and a bit elementary if I'm being honest.  There was a lot  of "I did this, then I did that, then I did this" (and by A LOT, I mean pretty much every chapter — there are 87 chapters) — with much of the detail being about unnecessary stuff that had nothing to do with the plot (honestly, does it matter to me that a character 'went to the supermarket, pulled out a cart, walked down the aisle, put stuff in the cart'? Nope!).  What made this worse was that the entire story was told from the first person point of view, so it sounded super awkward to hear the characters describe their own mundane actions (I.e.:"I picked up the laptop, I walked over to the table, I put it down and I opened the lid").  This also made the story feel unnecessarily long and dragged out — which normally wouldn't be a problem except that this is supposed to be a domestic thriller / suspense novel and mundane details like this bog down the plot.

Speaking of the plot, that was another thing that didn't work in this story.  Many of the plot points felt contrived and forced, but what bothered me the most was the ridiculousness of the main character Pippa's story arc — for much of the story, I found myself alternating between wanting to slap Pippa (more on this later) and suspending my disbelief every couple pages at the repeated stupidity of some of the characters' (mostly Pippa's) actions/behaviors/decisions (wait, she swept his behavior under the rug AGAIN?!?!?!).

And that brings me to what irked me the most about this story — the characters, all of whom weren't just unlikable ("loathsome" is probably more accurate), but frustratingly so, to the point that I couldn't bring myself to  feel anything but annoyance with all of them (but especially with Pippa).  The way Pippa's character was written, she felt like a caricature rather than a real person.  It didn't make an ounce of sense to me how Pippa was portrayed as a smart, confident lawyer and doting, assured mother of two young daughters one minute, but the next minute, as soon as her husband Gabe walks into the room, she becomes someone who deliberately buries her head in the sand, ignores all red flags (even the obvious ones that even she herself says are problematic), gets defensive whenever anyone says anything remotely critical about Gabe, second guesses and lies to herself over and over (and over and over and over again), and basically adopts an incredibly naive (not to mention frustratingly stupid and irrational) "I can't live without him so I must turn a blind eye and find excuses for his repeated s**tty behavior regardless of how that negatively impacts me or the kids" attitude.  To be honest, Pippa is exactly the type of nonsensical character that I absolutely cannot stand in any story — basically a twisted variation of the "damsel in distress" archetype but a hundred times more annoying because she is actually capable of "saving" herself and getting herself out of the many bad situations she finds herself in, but she chooses (repeatedly) not to do so, then justifies her decisions / actions with one lame excuse after another.  To me, it seems that even the author Hepworth finds this behavior problematic, as there is a scene near the later part of the book where Pippa's sister Kat confronts Pippa about the irrational way she constantly excuses her husband's behavior/ actions…Kat basically lays into Pippa, asking her point blank "how long [is she] going  to live like this?"  When Pippa gives a by-her-own-admission pathetic response (the exact quote is "A pathetic response, I know, but the only one I have."), Kat replies: "Fine. But I can't support you anymore. Not when you keep acting so damn stupid."  My sentiments (toward Pippa) exactly!!

As I stated earlier, there were a lot of things I disliked about this book and I honestly only touched on a few main ones, but I will stop here.  One thing that I did like was the ending, which I thought was done well, but unfortunately, coming at the tail end of the story, it was "too little, too late."  This was also one of those rare instances where, throughout the entire time I was reading, there were multiple moments that I was tempted to DNF the book (I have a rule about finishing every book I start, which I don't break often, so the fact I felt like DNFing is a big deal for me) — but I ended up plowing through it (albeit painfully).  

I think I will be taking a break from Hepworth's books for the time being, as this one obviously left a bad taste in my mouth and I honestly wasn't too keen on her previous book, The Younger Wife, either (I detailed the reasons why in my review of that book so if you're curious, feel free to check out that review). But then again, this is just me and my specific tastes — I didn't take to this newest book but many others did, so I suggest checking out those reviews as well for a more balanced perspective.

Received ARC from St. Martin's Press via NetGalley.

Review: Paper Names (by Susie Luo)

My Rating:  4 stars

Going into Susie Luo's debut novel Paper Names, I knew to expect an immigrant story, as I gathered as much from reading the summary and a couple reviews beforehand. However, what I wasn't expecting was an immigrant story that would be so different from what I've read in the past.

To start off, the structure of the story was quite unique. Told from the perspectives of three main characters — Tony, Tammy, and Oliver — the narrative alternated not just between the characters, but also between multiple timelines in a non-linear, non-chronological fashion.  In addition, the narrative also switched back and forth between first and third person depending on which character's perspective the story was being told from (all of Tammy's chapters were in first person).  Normally, this type of structure would be difficult to follow, but it actually worked well in this instance, as I found the story flowed pretty seamlessly from one perspective to another.  

As the Chinese daughter of immigrant parents, I thought I would resonate with Tammy's perspective the most, but I actually found that I also related quite a bit to Tony's story as well. In fact, this was one of the areas that made this particular immigrant story different from others — through Tony, we got to hear the immigrant parents' perspective and how the decision to leave their country for a foreign one impacted them.  I appreciated the way this structure gave a fuller, more well-rounded picture of the immigrant struggle, which also made the story more powerful, in my opinion. For me, Tony's story arc was the most moving, but more importantly, it gave me better perspective on my own parents' struggles back in the day and how the decision to immigrate ended up shaping their lives. The chapters told from Oliver's perspective were well-done too, but unsurprisingly, his story arc was one I couldn't relate as much to.

There is so much more I could say about this story, but I think it would have more of an impact experiencing it for one's self.  One thing to note though is that this was a contemplative, reflective story where there was not much action save for a few pivotal scenes — one that unfolded slowly, with particular focus on the characters' thoughts and feelings.  I mention this because a quiet story such as this one, coupled with an unconventional structure and a timeline that jumps around, might not work for everyone, so a heads up just in case.  Overall, this was a solid debut and I look forward to reading more from Luo in the future.

Received ARC from Hanover Square Press via Book Browse First Impressions program.