Review: The Story She Left Behind (by Patti Callahan Henry)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I am officially back!  I completed my final classes for my Master’s degree last week and while I’m admittedly relieved, I’m also feeling a bit off-kilter – not surprising given that I’ve spent nearly every day of the past two years doing some form of schoolwork.  I’m not complaining per se, as I did truly enjoy all of my classes and also the exposure to so much great literature that I probably would not have picked up otherwise.  What I didn’t like (aside from the stress of having to juggle work + school + family obligations) was the lack of “leisure” reading time during these two years – for a perfectionist like myself, not being able to “get to” the list of books that I plan to read every month is stressful in and of itself, so in that sense, I’m glad to finally have my reading life back (though I definitely have A LOT of catching up to do in the next few months due to how badly I fell behind in my reading goals, especially this year). 

As I slowly but surely get back up to speed, I decided to start with a book that has been on my list since the beginning of the year: Patti Callahan Henry’s newest release The Story She Left Behind.  I had read Henry’s previous novel The Secret Book of Flora Lea two years ago for book club and really enjoyed it, so this newest work was highly anticipated and in the end, it did not disappoint.  Though this is a very different book from her previous one (and not related in any way to that book), the premise is similar in that at the center of the story are a mysterious disappearance, charming characters, an enchanting countryside setting, multiple book-related plot points, and emotionally resonant storytelling that had me captivated to the point that I honestly could not put this book down.  This time around, the “disappearance” involves the main protagonist Clara Harrington’s mother, a child prodigy author who leaves her husband and young daughter behind in Bluffton, South Carolina one morning in 1927 and never returns, shattering their lives forever.  Twenty-five years later, Clara is an artist and illustrator and has an eight-year-old daughter of her own named Wynnie, whom she named after the mother she still yearns for after so many years.  So it is that when Clara receives a phone call from Charlie Jameson, a man in London who claims to have discovered a dictionary containing her mother’s secret language, she decides to go retrieve it.  Later, due to the disastrous weather, Clara and Wynnie escape to the Jameson family’s picturesque countryside retreat in the Lake District, where Clara not only finds love and friendship, but also the courage to finally unravel the mystery behind her mother’s disappearance and the story that she left behind.

Henry writes the story in a lyrical prose that is both descriptive and atmospheric, giving the story a delightfully immersive quality that definitely made me feel transported to the picturesque countryside location that Clara and Wynnie find themselves in. One of the things I love about Henry’s writing is the way she is able to infuse subtle elements of magic and mystery to a story, yet still firmly root it in the real world through its historical aspects.  The way she writes her characters – endearing, yet flawed (sometimes frustratingly so) – also adds emotional depth to the story.  With that said, I did find some of the plot points a tad bit predictable (i.e.: I figured out the “mystery” part pretty early in the story and already had a feeling how it would end), but this didn’t detract from the story, at least not for me. 

Overall, I enjoyed this one immensely and would definitely want to read what Henry writes next, especially if it is in the same vein as this story or the previous one.  I also want to say that even though I received an ARC of this book through NetGalley, I also bought a physical copy of it because of the beautiful cover art and that’s the version I ended up reading – for me, this enhanced the reading experience quite a bit, so I would recommend this option if possible.

Received ARC from Atria Books via NetGalley.

Review: Run For the Hills (by Kevin Wilson)

My Rating: 4 stars

Whenever I pick up a Kevin Wilson book, I already know that I will be in for a zany and wild ride through a weird yet heartfelt story alongside a cast of characters who are quirky and eccentric, but in a loveably delightful way.  In this instance, the “ride” is a literal one, as the central premise revolves around a road trip that four half-siblings embark upon to locate their long-lost father. 

Madeline “Mad” Hill’s solitary yet “okay” life living on a farm with her mother in Coalfield, Tennessee is suddenly upended when a young man named Reuben (nickname “Rube”) shows up on her doorstep claiming to be her half-brother.  As it turns out, their father, Charles Hill, is a serial abandoner – he walked out on Rube and his mother 30 years ago, changing his name and starting a new life on a farm with Mad’s mother, only to walk out on her and Mad 10 years later.  But Rube and Mad weren’t the only ones abandoned – their father actually did the same thing two more times after them, leaving behind a college-age daughter named Pepper (“Pep” for short) in Oklahoma and an eleven-year-old son named Theron (who goes by “Tom”) in Utah.  Rube invites Mad to accompany him on a cross-country trek to not only find their other siblings, but also try to locate their father so they can confront him and get answers.  Though Mad thinks this is a crazy idea, she ultimately agrees to go with Rube and together, they set off on a road trip unlike any other.  When Rube and Mad locate their other siblings and trade stories about their father, they are shocked to discover that he took on an entirely different persona with each “new life” he started.  These facts about their father, along with other secrets they uncover, deepen the siblings’ determination to find their father and figure out what exactly is going on (and perhaps more importantly – why??).

I will admit that, at first, when I read this outlandish premise, I honestly wasn’t sure if it was going to work, as it sounded a bit too off-the-wall to me.  But then I remembered that this is Kevin Wilson – an author who has the unique talent of taking the zaniest of premises and turning them into fun, delightful, emotionally nuanced stories that may not always be believable, but are always full of humor and heart.  I loved the four siblings at the center of the story and was truly moved by their earnest efforts in trying to navigate their newfound sibling relationship while at the same time reconciling the impact of their father’s actions on their lives.  With that said, I’m not really sure how I feel about the ending – I don’t want to give anything away, so I won’t say too much here, but I think this is an area that would make a good (and interesting) topic of discussion.

Overall, this was an enjoyable and highly entertaining read. Sure, there were some moments where I felt like I had to suspend disbelief somewhat, but those were few and far between – plus there was the emotional payoff that made things worthwhile in the end. I definitely recommend picking this one up, as it makes for a fantastic summer read!

Received ARC from Ecco via NetGalley.

Review: Three Days in June (by Anne Tyler)

My Rating: 4 stars

Anne Tyler’s latest novel may be a short, quick read, but it contains the same low-key yet poignant exploration of human nature that is a common feature of nearly all her books. Tyler is a master at taking mundane, everyday events and turning them into a meaningful story – one with substance and heart and subtle humor.  Her characters are always so relatable, probably because they are ordinary people going through ordinary life events, with emotions that always feel so real. 

This time around, the main character is Gail Baines, a 61-year-old who loses her long-time job as assistant headmistress at her town’s school over a lack of “people skills.” As if that weren’t bad enough, her only daughter Debbie is getting married the next day, yet as mother of the bride, Gail feels like an interloper – not only is she barely involved in any of the wedding planning (the mother of the groom has pretty much taken care of everything), it also looks like no one bothered to tell her about the special pre-wedding spa day that the mother of the groom organized for all the women in the wedding party.  But the worst is when Gail’s ex-husband Max (from whom she has been divorced for over 20 years) shows up unannounced on her doorstep with a stray cat in tow.  True to its title, the story unfolds over the course of these 3 particular days in June – the day before Debbie’s wedding, the day of the wedding (or “D-Day” as it is referred to in the chapter heading), and the day after – though there are also snippets interspersed throughout that provide some insight into Gail and Max’s past as well as how their marriage ended up falling apart.  The story is narrated entirely from Gail’s first-person perspective, which has the effect of giving us a front-row seat to Gail’s thoughts and feelings as she reflects on everything going on around her.

While I did find Gail to be frustrating at times with her stubborn adherence to certain perfectionistic tendencies that made some things in her life harder than they needed to be, at the same time, I also connected with her introverted, socially awkward nature.  There were moments that resonated quite deeply, where I found myself nodding my head and thinking, “yes, I know that feeling exactly!” – though of course, there were also moments that made me wonder what in the world Gail was thinking. 

With Three Days in June, Tyler once again provides us with a nuanced portrayal of human relationships rendered in her signature style.  While this was certainly not the most engaging of Tyler’s novels that I’ve read, it was enjoyable nevertheless.  Definitely recommended!

 

Review: Good Dirt (by Charmaine Wilkerson)

My Rating: 4 stars

I really enjoyed Charmaine Wilkerson’s debut novel Black Cake, which I found to be a very interesting story told in a way that was so different from what I had read before.  That story was told not just from multiple perspectives, but also jumped around through multiple locations and time periods; plot-wise, the narrative unfolded around a female protagonist, a treasured family heirloom, and secrets from the past that significantly impact the characters’ present and futures, all while shining a light on aspects of history.  Wilkerson’s sophomore effort, Good Dirt, follows largely the same pattern structurally, yet it is also a completely different story. 

The story begins with a tragedy – 10-year-old Ebby Freeman is playing hide-and-seek with her beloved 15-year-old brother Baz at their home in an affluent New England neighborhood when two men enter and shoot Baz dead.  The tragedy garners massive media attention, mostly due to the fact that the Freemans are one of the few African American families living in an exclusive enclave where all the other wealthy families are predominantly white.  Despite the media frenzy over the case, the crime is never solved.  Ebby, now 29-years-old, is about to be married to Henry Pepper, who is also from an affluent and influential New England family, but on her wedding day, her fiancé ghosts her, leaving her to deal with yet another barrage of unwanted media attention when her family is thrust back into the spotlight due to the high-profile nature of the relationship.  Ebby ends up fleeing to France, where she hopes that a solitary retreat at her friend Hannah’s village house will help her heal – a hope that is upended when Ebby’s past catches up to her.  At the same time, Ebby continues to deal with the trauma of Baz’s death 18 years ago and the survivor’s guilt that has followed her since that moment she found her brother lying bloodied on the floor of their home, surrounded by shattered pieces of a stoneware jar – an heirloom that had been in their family for nearly two centuries.  The heirloom’s significance – both to Ebby’s family as well as to her own future – becomes the main thread that links the narrative’s various threads together.

Just like Black Cake, this story is beautifully written and one that explores complex themes of grief, trauma, racism, etc. interwoven with heartbreak and loss, yet also balances this with themes of love, courage, resilience, and hope.  Ebby is a character I couldn’t help rooting for – Wilkerson did a great job developing her character arc in such a way that it was easy to connect with her experiences despite being from different backgrounds.  I also appreciated how part of the story was told from Ebby’s parents’ points of view as well, which provided important insight and perspective on the various events that happen in the novel.  The historical elements also blended nicely with the present-day timeline, as Wilkerson explored the Freeman family’s origins as well as the significance of the heirloom that played such a central role in the story.

This one is highly recommended, especially if you enjoyed Wilkerson’s phenomenal debut.  For me, both books were equally great reads, though I think Black Cake stuck with me more because it dealt with more obscure history that was less familiar to me.  Either way, Good Dirt is a well-told, fascinating, and thought-provoking story definitely worth the read!

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Lost Story of Eva Fuentes (by Chanel Cleeton)

My Rating: 4 stars 

As much as I wish for it to be otherwise, my reading life is off to a late start this year.  I wasn’t able to read much in January or February due to some things I had to take care of in my personal life, so now, heading into March, I’m trying to play catch up with my TBR.  Though I guess if I’m being honest, it’s not that I didn’t do any reading the past 2 months (because I’m always reading something), but rather I didn’t want to spend time writing about it.  In any case, now that I have things a little bit more under control, I’m starting to slowly but surely clear out my ARC list.

 

It's actually a little bit ironic that the first ARC I’m starting with this year doesn’t publish until July, but that’s how things ended up turning out.  The Lost Story of Eva Fuentes is Chanel Cleeton’s latest Cuban-themed historical fiction novel and it’s definitely a good one!  I’ve read most (but not all) of Cleeton’s past novels and especially enjoyed her series about the Perez family, though her other novels (the ones not about the Perez family) have been a hit or miss for me overall.  With this latest one, I’m guessing I enjoyed it so much because the storyline revolves around a lost book and its connection to three women from three different time periods. 

In the present timeline (London in 2024), Margo Reynolds is hired to help her client find a rare book that was written 120 years ago, but there is a huge catch – only one copy of the book is currently in existence.  Though Margo accepts the challenge, she quickly realizes that she may actually be in over her head as other parties interested in the book start to come out of the woodwork and her life is placed in danger.  The timeline then moves to Havana in 1966, where librarian Pilar Castillo lives in grief and anger over the loss of her husband, who was arrested and imprisoned for going against Fidel Castro’s regime.  Pilar comes into possession of the mysterious book when it is turned over to her for safekeeping by a neighbor and eventually becomes more than a source of comfort for her as she endures the difficulties of living under Castro’s repressive regime.  Finally, the third timeline, in 1900, introduces us to the author of the book, Eva Fuentes, a Cuban teacher who is given the opportunity to travel to the United States as part of a summer cultural exchange program at Harvard University. During Eva’s stay there, she experiences both joy and heartbreak that not only end up altering the course of her life, but also provide the inspiration for her novel.

 

I have to admit that I was a bit dubious at first how the story would unfold given how far apart the three timelines were.  It turns out I didn’t have to worry though, as Cleeton definitely knew what she was doing in making Eva’s book the central thread that connected the seemingly disparate timelines together, but in a way that was seamless and made sense for the story’s development.  Given my affinity for historical fiction, no doubt that I enjoyed Eva’s and Pilar’s timelines more -- Margo’s timeline was well done overall, but since the three timelines alternated with each chapter, it did feel a little jarring to jump from an early 20^th century historical setting to a modern day murder mystery setting in 2024.  Things turned out fine in the end though.

 

As an avid reader and also a writer myself, I love learning about the behind-the-scenes aspects of how a particular story came to be as well as the inspirations for certain characters and events, which is perhaps why Cleeton’s latest work resonated with me more than her previous novels did.  Speaking of behind-the-scenes, Cleeton writes in her Author’s Note that The Lost Story of Eva Fuentes is a “love letter to the power of books and the impact they leave on our lives,” which is one of the main reasons why she had Eva’s fictional book be what links the three women in the three different timelines together.  I couldn’t agree more!  Cleeton fans will definitely want to pick this one up, but those who enjoy “books about books” will likely enjoy this one as well.

 

Received ARC from Berkley via Book Browse First Impressions program.

Review: Beautiful Ugly (by Alice Feeney)

 My Rating: 4 stars 

Alice Feeney has become one of my “go-to” authors in the thriller/suspense genre over the years, to the point that I’ll automatically pick up any new book she writes, sometimes before I even know what the story will be about.  Having read all of Feeney’s books, I’ve enjoyed nearly all of them, though there have definitely been some that were more “miss” than “hit” (and only one book so far that I hated enough to regret reading).  Her newest book, Beautiful Ugly, is one that I have mixed feelings about.  On the one hand, I continue to be blown away by Feeney’s ability to come up with original, mind-boggling twists for story after story (she is known as the “Queen of Twists” after all) -- most of the time, when I read her books, I’m not able to guess the ending (this newest book, with its back-to-back twists dropped one after the other near the end, certainly was no exception).  On the other hand, I also feel that, with each book, the plot seems to get more convoluted and the ending a tad more outlandish while the characters behave in ways that make them less likeable as the story unfolds (all of which were definitely the case here).  With all that said, I also feel that this book is Feeney’s most atmospheric one to date (I heard that there are sound effects on the audio book version that enhances the atmospheric experience manifold, so might want to give that version a try), as well as the most clever – even though I’ve read all of Feeney’s books and am more than familiar with her style, the various twists still took me by surprise (after I finished the book, I realized that she had mirrored a very similar format from a previous book for one of the twists, but it was so smooth and seamless that I totally did not catch on). 

 

I’m keeping this review brief and vague on purpose, as there really isn’t a whole lot that can be said without giving parts of the story away.  I read some reviews that say this book is Feeney’s best one yet and while I don’t necessarily agree with that statement, I will say that it is definitely one of her better ones.  This is also the “twist-y-ist” of all her novels in the sense that there are multiple “what the heck just happened” moments that kept me turning the pages and wanting to know how everything comes together.  As for the ending – all I’m going to say is that the opinions are bound to be mixed on it (for me personally, I haven’t figured out how I feel yet about what happens at the end).  Overall, my favorite of Feeney’s novels is still her debut Sometimes I Lie, followed closely by Rock Paper Scissors (His & Hers was pretty good as well, but not as memorable as these two).  This newest book will definitely satisfy long-time Feeney fans, though for those who have never read her, I wouldn’t recommend starting with this one.  Also, her novels tend to lean darker on the psychological thriller spectrum, so that’s something to keep in mind as well.  I’m honestly curious to see what Feeney will come up with next – she has written 7 books so far and all of them have been very different both in scope and story, so I wonder which direction she will go next.  Whatever the case, I know I will be there for it!

Review: Rental House (by Weike Wang)

 

My Rating: 4.5 stars

A couple weeks ago, I had made a plan to take advantage of the vacation time I would have during the last two weeks of December to catch up on as many 2024 reads as possible. While I realize now in hindsight that this plan was a bit too ambitious given all the family obligations I had around the holidays, I’m glad I put in the effort because even though I won’t get through as much as I had planned, at least I’m making a decent dent to my TBR pile.
 

One of the books that I have been looking forward to reading ever since I found out about it is Rental House, Weike Wang’s third novel that she wrote during the pandemic. I loved her previous novel, Joan is Okay, which resonated with me deeply and was a 5-star read for me, so of course it’s no surprise that this new book was high on my list of must-reads.  I finally got around to reading the book this week and I’m definitely glad I did.  At only 213 pages, this slim novel is a quick read, but yet, one that also packs a punch.

 

In Rental House, Wang presents a marriage between two people from completely opposite ends of the cultural divide.  Keru was born in China, but immigrated to the United States with her parents as a child and despite having completely assimilated into American culture (including becoming a citizen through naturalization), she is still viewed as “foreign” by many people, including her own in-laws.  Keru’s parents, who are strict and demanding (as most immigrant Chinese parents are), expect perfection at every turn and believe that only through endless striving and struggle can immigrants such as themselves gain success in a country not of one’s origin. Nate is white and from a rural Appalachian, working-class family that distrusts intellect and striving as a means to get ahead and instead believes that those in a position of wealth (including the government) should be expected to help them out.  Despite being from two disparate cultures, Keru and Nate marry after college and instead of having kids, decide to raise a sheepdog whom they name Mantou (which means “steamed bun” in Chinese).  The book is divided into two parts, with part 1 being about a vacation in Cape Cod with Keru and Nate as well as both sets of in-laws (albeit separately – Keru’s parents visit first, then Nate’s parents), while part 2 takes place 5 years later, with Keru and Nate vacationing in the Catskills, this time without either set of in-laws (though their presence is still hugely felt despite not being there physically).  The story essentially chronicles the culture clash that ensues as Keru and Nate navigate a life together while simultaneously having to deal with the differences between their families.

 

As a Chinese American woman, I always feel seen whenever I read Weike Wang’s works – more than when I read other works by Chinese/Chinese American authors – probably because of how realistically she is able to portray the Chinese American experience in a modern-day setting.  I love how Wang captures the nuances of the Chinese American experience so perfectly and precisely every time – though in Rental House, the differences are more out in the open due to the juxtaposition of the two main characters who are from such disparate and opposite backgrounds. Given my own background, I especially resonated with Keru’s struggles: the pressure that her Chinese immigrant parents place on her to achieve success, with this success in turn being used as justification that her parents’ sacrifices were not in vain; the never-ending identity struggle that comes with being caught between two disparate cultures; constantly having to weigh the necessity of assimilation against the risk of losing her own cultural identity; and the nagging feeling that, even when she does everything right (works hard, gains prestige and wealth through a respected, high-paying job), it is somehow never going to be enough.  Most of all though, I resonated deeply with the way Keru behaves in the presence of her parents, especially her mother. Growing up with my background, I’ve found that one of the biggest things that my non-Asian friends have the hardest time understanding is the relationship dynamic between the Chinese mother and her children (sons to a certain extent but especially daughters).  In the face of relentless criticism from our Chinese mothers, the most common question that Chinese daughters such as myself get asked is why do we behave the way we do in front of our mothers and furthermore, why do we allow our mothers to treat us this way in the first place.  What those who ask this question fail to understand is that, for Chinese mothers, criticism (especially toward Chinese daughters) is their love language – it’s something so ingrained and such a natural element of the Chinese parent/child relationship that, when we’re in each other’s presence, we automatically slot into our roles without even realizing it.  Weike Wang is one of the few Chinese American authors I’ve read who is able to convey this dynamic so well on the page and I love her for it!

 

With all that said, my favorite novel of Wang’s is still Joan is Okay, but this newest one isn’t too far behind.  I will pretty much read anything Wang writes at this point, and I’m hoping her next novel won’t take too long to come out.

 

Also, one last thing I want to put out there: as those who are familiar with Weike Wang’s works probably know, her style is not for everyone.  She writes with a wry, ironic wit in a snarky, dead-pan style that is oftentimes misunderstood, perhaps because she is unapologetic about portraying her main protagonists in all their quirky, eccentric, realistically flawed glory, which may not work for all audiences.  Her books also tend to be heavily character-driven and not only lack a coherent plot, but also lean more toward “slice-of-life vignette” territory where parts of the story may feel abrupt or incomplete.  This kind of style may not work for all readers, so it’s important to keep this in mind when deciding whether to pick this one up.

Review: Meditations for Mortals (by Oliver Burkeman)

 My Rating: 4 stars

When it comes to books that fall into the “self-help” category, I’ve never been much of a fan, as I find a majority of these books are “overly-preachy” in tone and oftentimes also employ aggressive-sounding language that essentially tries to shame the reader into following the advice at hand.  I’ve always been picky with books, but given this particular pet peeve of mine, I tend to be even more careful when choosing self-help books to read.  Two years ago, I came across Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks and upon the recommendation of trusted book friends (who obviously understood my wariness toward self-help books), I read the book and really enjoyed it.  One of the things I liked most about that book was how Burkeman presented advice regarding time management and productivity (among other things) that largely ran counter to the advice traditionally presented in business books.  As I wrote in my review of that book, Burkeman essentially takes the advice that those time management books preach – the idea of “making more time to get more done” – and throws it out the window.  Instead, his message is that since time is finite and most humans are only on this earth for an average of four thousand weeks, it is realistically impossible to get every single thing that we want to do done – so instead of obsessing over how to cram more “to do” stuff into a short time span, it’s better to just make the conscious decision to do what matters most in the moment and accept the consequences (good or bad) of that choice. 

 

Burkeman’s follow-up to that book is Meditations for Mortals, which came out back in September.  In this much slimmer book, Burkeman takes the concepts from Four Thousand Weeks and breaks them down into “mediations” across 28 days (4 weeks), with the focus specifically on how to embrace our limitations (or “imperfectionism” as Burkeman puts it) and make those choices that matter.  Burkeman wrote the book in a flexible manner where it can either be read all the way through in one or two sittings, or taken in bite-size morsels over a 4 week period (even though I chose to read the book all in one sitting, I appreciate the flexibility that this format provides).

 

Overall, I actually enjoyed this book more than his previous one, probably because I felt it was more accessible, both content-wise and format-wise.  Four Thousand Weeks was a good book, but as I mentioned in my review, it waxed a bit too philosophical in some parts, rendering some of the content a little too abstract.  This follow-up is less philosophical and more practical, which made the content easier to digest and remember.  The format also makes it easier to go back and re-read particular sections that may be more relevant and applicable than others.

 

For those who already read Four Thousand Weeks, I highly recommend reading this follow-up, as it synthesizes some of the concepts from there and, in my opinion, enhances that book.  If you haven’t read that book yet, I would say no need to go back – just read this one instead.

Review: Dreaming in Cuban (by Cristina Garcia)

 My Rating: 4 stars

The past few months have been a bit of a crazy, chaotic whirlwind for me and while I’ve continued to do tons of reading, I’ve unfortunately been less diligent with the review side of things (mostly due to lack of time) – which is why I’m grateful to have a couple weeks off now and in December so I can finally catch up, both on the backlogged reviews that I didn’t get a chance to write as well as on the teetering stack of books that I have not gotten around to reading yet (the stack is literally inches away, right next to my keyboard, threatening to topple over as I type this).

 

One of the books I finished earlier in the month is Cuban American author Cristina Garcia’s debut novel Dreaming in Cuban, which came out back in 1992.  I picked this one up because it was assigned reading for one of my classes, which of course made me skeptical about whether this would be a tedious read and whether I would actually enjoy it. 

 

The story revolves around three generations of the del Pino family and the devastating impact that the Cuban revolution has on them.  The narrative alternates between the perspectives of Celia (the matriarch of the del Pino family who still lives in Cuba), Lourdes (one of Celia’s three children who flees with her husband to the U.S. at the height of the Cuban revolution), and Pilar (Lourdes’s daughter who is caught between two the American world she lives in and the Cuban world of her heritage).  In addition to the interesting format that the story is told in (a combination of third person, first person, and epistolary), there are also magical realism elements sprinkled throughout the narrative, though not in a heavy-handed manner (which I was glad to see because magical realism can be a hit or miss for me). 

 

This is one of those novels that has a complex plot involving multiple characters (I’m grateful for the character chart that Garcia includes at the beginning of the book) with a deeply profound underlying message that takes a little bit of patience to get to. 

 

Overall, I wouldn’t say that I “enjoyed” the book, as there was a lot of hard stuff in this one that had to be parsed through, but I definitely liked and appreciated it, especially for the unique insight it provided into the Cuban American experience.  I would say that if this is a perspective that interests you, this one is well worth picking up, though be aware that trigger warnings abound.

Review: The Sequel (by Jean Hanff Korelitz)

My Rating: 4 stars

 

Given how much I loved Jean Hanff Korelitz’s literary thriller The Plot, it should come as no surprise that when I heard Korelitz had written a sequel to that book – aptly titled The Sequel – I was dying to read it (pun intended, lol).  The Plot was a book that blew me away – clever, creative, and so masterfully done, with an ending that was wholly unexpected (but made sense given the clues hidden throughout the story).  It was so well done, in fact, that I initially couldn’t help but wonder whether a sequel would be able to live up to the original (even Korelitz gives a shout out to this common cultural sentiment when one of her characters in The Sequel states that “they’re never as good as the first book, are they?”).  Well, it seems that the jury is still out with this one, as there seem to be varying reactions to it from what I can see – some readers feel the second book is better while others feel the original is still the best; for me personally, I would have to say that I fall into the second camp.  While I did enjoy this one and found it to be every bit as clever as the first book (I absolutely loved the way Korelitz named each chapter the title of a real-life literary sequel, as half the fun of reading this book, for me at least, was figuring out which book the sequel title belonged to), I also felt that it was not as tightly-written as the first book was and much less “suspenseful” in comparison. 

 

Before I go any further, I have to say this: despite what people may say about it being fine to read this one as a standalone, I actually feel it is absolutely necessary to read The Plot first, for multiple reasons.  First and foremost is the fact that this book starts off where the first one ended; second, much of the story expands upon many of the plot points from the first book, particularly as it pertains to Anna’s background; third, many of the characters from the first book also show up again, with a few featuring heavily in the storyline this time around; and fourth, there are a few points in the book where the big “twists” from the first book are mentioned.  So basically, if you have not read The Plot but try to read The Sequel, you will either be completely lost with the storyline or you will encounter so many “spoilers” from the first book that there’s no point going back to read it anymore.  To be honest, even reading the “blurb” on the jacket of the sequel is not a good idea if you haven’t read the first book, since there are some references to plot points in that story that, in my opinion, can be “spoiler-ish.”

 

In any case, with that out of the way – as I mentioned earlier, I feel that this book was enjoyable but the original was definitely better. I think part of the reason why I feel this way is because The Plot was unique enough on its own, from all aspects, whether storyline, characters, format (the “story within the story” concept was particularly well-done), tone, voice, flow, etc. – it all came together brilliantly.  With The Sequel, I feel that Korelitz was trying to rehash essentially all the same elements, except this time around, with Anna as the protagonist instead of Jacob (for obvious reasons).  This gave me a little bit of a “been there, done that” vibe for one, and two, it made the storyline a lot more predictable – case in point: with a few minor exceptions, the first book largely had me guessing as to the direction that Korelitz was going to take and I was genuinely shocked with ending; with this book, I already had everything figured out midway through the story and not only that, I ended up being exactly on-the-dot in terms of the ending.

 

I also have to say that I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Anna being the protagonist in this story given all the horrible things she did (and continues to do). The blurb on the jacket states that with The Sequel, Korelitz “gives readers an antihero to root for” – well, this wasn’t really a true statement for me because with Anna, I honestly did not see anything worth rooting for (though I understood Anna’s motivations, I still found her behavior and actions beyond appalling).  But I guess this is more a case of “it’s me, not the book,” since I’m not really a fan of diabolic, villain characters as protagonists.

 

Overall, this was a worthwhile read, especially if you’ve already read The Plot, as this story fills in nearly all of the gaps that were left open-ended from the first book (and it’s definitely a thrill to be able to recognize a character or plot point from the first book and wonder what the implications will be for the new protagonist who wasn’t involved in the interaction the first time around).  As for whether I would read a third book (if there were to be one – which, all indication so far is that there might be), probably yes, but definitely with less anticipatory excitement, especially if Anna is also going to be the protagonist the third go around.

 

Received ARC from Celadon Books via NetGalley.