Review: Banyan Moon (by Thao Thai)

My Rating:  5 stars

I've been reading quite a few new releases the last couple of months and while many of those I enjoyed immensely (majority have been 4 and 4.5 star reads thankfully), I had yet to come across one that I could truly categorize as a 5 star level "this book blew me away" type read (so far this year, I've rated 2 books 5 stars, but both were backlist reads).  Well, heading into summer reading season, I'm happy to report that I've finally come across my first 5 star read among the plentiful 2023 new releases — Thao Thai's spectacular debut novel Banyan Moon (scheduled for publication in June).  

There was so much to unpack with this book, I'm honestly not sure where to begin.  Perhaps the best place to start would be what attracted me to this book in the first place — as soon as I read the premise, especially the following last paragraph, I knew that this was a book I abs had to read:   Spanning decades and continents, from 1960s Vietnam to the wild swamplands of the Florida coast, Banyan Moon is a stunning and deeply moving story of mothers and daughters, the things we inherit, and the lives we choose to make out of that inheritance."  

First of all, I love sweeping family sagas, but in particular, I'm drawn to stories about mother/daughter relationships.  Part of the reason I gravitate toward these types of stories is because I have a complicated relationship with my own mother, so I'm constantly on the lookout for books that explore this — particularly between Asian mothers and daughters, as there are usually familiar cultural dynamics involved that inform these relationships, which can hopefully help me make sense of my own.  

To be honest, reading this book was like a gut punch for me because I resonated so deeply with each of the 3 main characters — Minh (grandmother and family matriarch), Huong (Minh's daughter and Ann's mother), and Ann (Minh's granddaughter, Huong's daughter, and herself about to become a mother) — and the various misunderstandings and disagreements that defined their relationship with each other. I understood Ann's feeling of being adrift and floating and not really knowing what she wanted to do with her life, only that she wanted to escape from the perpetual tension that always existed when she was in her mother's presence.  I also understood Huong's feelings of inadequacy — both as a mother and as a daughter — and feeling like she had no choice but to resign herself to a life that reflected what others wanted rather than what she actually wanted.  And yes, I also understood Minh's struggle, why she became the overbearing force to be reckoned with in the family, and what necessitated her urge to protect her granddaughter at all costs.  So many of the dynamics that were at play between these three women felt so familiar to me, as they reflected some of my experiences and struggles with my own family over the years:  for instance: the inability to communicate our true feelings no matter how hard we try, and then being bogged down by endless guilt and regret that never truly goes away; the resentment and hurt built up from a lifetime of letting fear and desperation dictate our words and actions, resulting in us saying things to each other that we may not really mean, but that end up dealing irreparable damage to our relationships; and for me, this one was the most poignant and heartbreaking — the constant struggle with understanding the different ways to love someone and the impossibility of choosing a "right" or "wrong" way to love (especially where family is concerned).  As an indication of how deeply this story resonated with me — during various points as I was reading, I actually had to set the book down in order to wipe away tears that seemed to appear of their own accord. 

Another thing that blew me away with this book was the writing. I love beautiful prose and this one definitely had plenty of it!  When I read fiction, I tend to read straight through without marking up any passages because I don't want to break up the flow of the story, but in this instance, I couldn't help myself — some of the passages, in articulating the complexities of the relationship between the 3 generations of Tran women, also described my own feelings so precisely that I just had to mark them for rereading and reflection later.  

One other thing I wanted to mention is the format of the narrative, which, except for the first chapter, alternated between the perspectives of Minh, Huong, and Ann, both in the present day as well as going back to the past.  This format was powerful, I felt, as juxtaposing the three women's stories in this way not only helped us see how each navigated her role as daughters (which is important because of how much these experiences shaped their future roles as mothers), but it also helped us to see how similar some of their motivations were, yet how differently their lives turned out based on the choices they made. 

As I mentioned earlier, there is a lot to unpack with this one and the above only touches upon a few of my initial thoughts about certain aspects of the story that resonated with me, which of course only scratches the surface of what this book is about.  This is why I'm so glad that one of my book clubs chose this as a monthly read, as I now have an excuse to go back and reread this in preparation for the discussion.  Definitely looking forward to it!

Received ARC from Mariner Books via BookBrowse First Impressions program.

Review: The Museum of Ordinary People (by Mike Gayle)



My Rating:  2.5 stars



When I first read the premise of Mike Gayle's latest novel The Museum of Ordinary People, I was quite intrigued by the idea of a museum that collected keepsakes and mementos — things that people didn't want to throw away, but also weren't able to keep either.  This story arc was definitely an interesting one and indeed, the chapters that talked about the museum — how it came about, the history behind some of the items, the backstories of the people who donated the items, etc. — were the strongest.  Unfortunately though, much of the rest of the story was bogged down by various threads that I felt were irrelevant, unnecessary and distracted from the main arc — for example, all of the chapters devoted to the main protagonist Jess Baxter clearing out her mum's house, room by room — which had the effect of dragging out the already slow-paced story to the point of being nearly unbearable. 

I also was annoyed by the thread involving Jess's relationship with her boyfriend Guy. Right from the start, the dynamics of their relationship felt off and it was already pretty obvious the direction that the relationship was headed (that they wouldn't be together in the end) — which was why, as the story progressed, I got increasingly frustrated with how their relationship continued to drag on, with both Jess and Guy coming up with one "justification" after another for why they should remain together.  And then when the split finally happened, it was done in a way that honestly made no sense (not to mention it ticked me off how Jess was portrayed throughout that entire scene — specifically having her grovel and take all the blame with no mention of the role that Guy's atrocious behavior played in the whole mess).

Speaking of Jess, I felt like the way her character was written was very inconsistent throughout the story, to the point that it was hard for me to connect with her at all.  It seemed like one minute, she would exude confidence and stand up for herself but then the next minute she would become a doormat and second guess herself at every turn. Basically, she came across as being all over the place due to her behavior and actions being contradictory throughout various parts of the story.  

In addition to the characters being problematic, the writing was also repetitive in places (for example - the word "anyway" was repeated at so many points in the story that I lost count after the first couple chapters), there was way too much “telling” rather than “showing” (the writing actually came off awkward in places), and the plot was a bit too contrived for my liking (there were some "twists" added near the end that were convenient but unnecessary in my opinion).  

Overall, I would say that this was an okay read that I think would've been a more effective story if it had focused on the original premise of the museum rather than branching off into other tangents.  The narrative meandered too much and there were too many instances where I felt like I had to skim through tedious bits in order to get back to the parts that mattered (the scenes involving the museum). As I seem to be an outlier on this one though, I would recommend checking out other reviews as well, just in case.

Received ARC from Grand Central Publishing via NetGalley.

Review: The Wishing Game (by Meg Shaffer)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Meg Shaffer's smart, whimsical, and utterly delightful debut novel The Wishing Game is the feel-good story I didn't know I needed!   

Inspired by the beloved children's classic Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, this was a retelling of sorts, but set in the world of books.  Instead of a chocolate factory, there's a "writing factory" that is the home to Jack Masterson, the reclusive and eccentric children's author of the mega-bestselling Clock Island series.  The fantastical book series is so beloved in part because of the books' ability to help the children who read them find solace and comfort during difficult times in their lives.  One of those children is Lucy Hart, who grew up in a family with parents who were neglectful and ended up abandoning her in favor of her older sister Angie.  To combat her loneliness, Lucy found solace in books, especially the Clock Island series, with its magical world where a mysterious figure named Master Mastermind "granted wishes to brave children" and in so doing, helped them face and overcome their fears.  Many years later, 26-year-old Lucy is a teacher's aide at an elementary school in California, where she meets 7-year-old Christopher Lamb, an orphan in foster care with whom she develops a close relationship.  Her biggest wish is to adopt Christopher and give him a forever home, but unfortunately, her lack of funds and unstable living environment make that wish all but impossible.  It's during this time that Jack Masterson, who had mysteriously quit writing 6 years ago, re-emerges and announces that he has written a new book in the Clock Island series – not only that, he has devised a contest where specially chosen readers of his books will get to compete for the sole copy.  When Lucy is chosen as one of the 4 contestants who receives the "golden ticket" – the invitation to travel to the real Clock Island (located off the coast of Maine) to compete for the coveted prize – she sees the opportunity to finally make her wish come true.  But it won't be easy, as Lucy not only has to beat out 3 other contestants who have equally compelling reasons for needing to win, she also has to deal with Hugo Reese, the illustrator of the Clock Island books and Jack's caretaker of sorts on the island.  Unbeknownst to all of them though, Jack actually has reasons of his own for putting on the contest that could end up changing the lives of all involved in ways they weren't expecting.

This was a charming, clever, inner story that sucked me in right from the first page.  Shaffer did a magnificent job with the world-building in this story, to the point that I was blown away by how simultaneously similar and different this was from its inspiration, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.   There were the obvious parallels of course:  the stand-in for the chocolate factory, which in this case was the setting of Clock Island, with each location whimsically named based on the segments of a clock (such as 'The City of Second Hand' or 'Nine O'Clock Dock' or 'One O'Clock Picnic Spot'); the character of Jack Masterson, whose eccentric personality and endearing nature gives off serious Willy Wonka vibes;  the contest where the lucky recipients of the blue envelope containing the invitation (equivalent to the golden ticket in the chocolate bar) are the ones who get to go visit Clock Island; the main protagonist coming from a poor background and so the opportunity that the "golden ticket" presents is particularly life-changing.  But there were also significant differences, with the obvious one being the romantic storyline between Lucy and Hugo; the literary theme involving the fictional Clock Island book series (complete with excerpts from the books scattered throughout the story);  the exploration of various "heavy" topics such as parental abuse and neglect, illness and death, the foster care system, the effect of childhood trauma lasting into adulthood, free choice versus circumstance, etc. — all of these topics were covered in a way that acknowledged their importance but wasn't heavy-handed (which I appreciated), while also fitting perfectly with the vibe of the book (whimsical, light-hearted, hopeful, etc).

Another element that was done really well in here was the humor, which felt very natural and seamless throughout the story.  I love banter between characters that isn't deliberately funny, but still has the ability to make me laugh, and there was the perfect amount of that in this story.  It's even more wonderful when the banter isn't just between the characters in a romantic relationship (though yes, it was fun following the back and forth between Lucy and Hugo in most of their scenes), but also features significantly into the relationships between the other characters as well.  I especially enjoyed the dynamics of Jack and Hugo's "pseudo father/son" relationship, which had me laughing one minute and moved to tears the next minute.  Actually, the various relationship dynamics was one of the main elements that set this story apart from its inspiration, which is also what made the story more compelling in my opinion.

If I had to sum this one up, I would say that it's an imaginative, magical, bookish take on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but for adults.  It's also a story with lots of heart (I agree with everyone who said reading this book is like getting a big warm hug, lol), but what I love most is its underlying message about hope and wishes as well as the power of books to change lives.  A wonderful homage to books and reading as well as a tribute to a childhood favorite (I love how Shaffer dedicated this book to "Charlie"), this is a book that I highly recommend and hope that many readers will love it as much as I did.

P.S.:  The cover of this book is absolutely gorgeous!  I read an e-ARC of this one, but I'm actually considering buying a physical copy so I can pull it out and look at the cover whenever I feel like it. 

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Sorrows of Others (by Ada Zhang)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

Short story collections can be a bit of a hit or miss for me.  One reason is because I need stories to have some type of closure, as I don't like the feeling of being left hanging — for me, a story needs to have a beginning, middle, and ending (which can be good, bad, or indifferent — doesn't really matter to me as long as there's closure).  I also enjoy stories with characters that are well-developed and that I can root for.  Unfortunately, most short story collections are written in a way where we essentially only get a small "slice of life" snippet, with the story oftentimes ending abruptly – the result is that the stories usually feel incomplete and I'm left yearning for more.  In terms of the characters, it's hard for me to be invested enough to root for them when I'm given little to no chance of getting to know them and watching them evolve.

 

With Ada Zhang's debut collection of stories, The Sorrows of Others, this was exactly the type of situation I encountered.  While I loved the themes that the stories explored – the impact of immigration and assimilation, constant struggle with identity and belonging, cultural dissonance between generations, parent/child relationships, complex family dynamics, etc. – I felt that the stories were way too short and therefore the themes weren't covered as amply or deeply as I would've liked (as a point of reference, the entire collection was less than 150 pages, with the longest story being only 22 pages and the shortest story only 6 pages).  Nearly every story felt incomplete to me, which made for a frustrating read, as I kept having to start over with each story trying to get back into the groove of things and get acquainted with the new characters.

Format-aside though, the writing here was excellent — Zhang did a great job weaving the cultural elements into the stories, which I definitely appreciated, especially since, being from the same culture, many of the experiences were familiar to me. Also, with some of the characters, the emotional undercurrents were definitely felt within their respective stories, it's just that there wasn't enough time to develop further due to the brevity of the stories.

Out of the 10 stories in this collection, the ones that resonated most with me were:  The Sorrows of Others, Propriety, Silence, Sister Machinery, Knowing, and Compromise.

Overall, this was a good collection that I absolutely recommend for those who enjoy the short story format.  Though I prefer novels, I appreciated the writing enough in this one that, if Zhang were to put out another short story collection, I would definitely read it.

Received ARC from A Public Space Books via Edelweiss.

Review: No Two Persons (by Erica Bauermeister)

My Rating: 4 stars

I read Erica Bauermeister's previous novel The Scent Keeper a couple years ago and absolutely adored that book.  Two of the things I had loved about that book were the story itself (with its unique structure, interesting subject matter, and fascinating characters) as well as the gorgeously lyrical and immersive writing.  Given this experience, it's probably no surprise that when I was approved for an ARC of Bauermeister's newest work No Two Persons, I was ecstatic knowing that I would be in for another mesmerizing read.  While in the end, the experience was a little different from what I expected, I still really enjoyed this one overall.

In this book, Bauermeister once again employs a unique structure — this time, through a series of linked short stories — to explore the impact that one book has on 10 different people, starting with the young author who writes the book, Alice Wein.  Each story presents characters from different walks of life who are struggling in some way (whether it's with love, relationships, grief, illness, financial insecurity, etc.) but then they encounter Alice's book, simply titled Theo, which opens the door to a different perspective — and in some cases, a much-needed path forward — for each person.  I found it fascinating how Bauermeister was able to weave Theo so seamlessly into each character's story and adapt it to meet the situation they were in.  As I was reading each story, I knew Theo was going to make an appearance somehow, but I didn't know when or how, which made me want to keep reading to find out (and then marveling to myself afterwards how brilliant each instance was).  Each story also gave us insight into Theo's plot and while we never got the full story arc of course, enough details were revealed that it made me wish it were a real book, as it was one that I'd definitely be interested in reading. 

As an avid reader, I definitely resonated with the messages in this book — that no two persons will read the same book in the same way; that certain books have a way of meeting the reader where they're at in their lives; that some books have the power to change lives, but sometimes, we need to be willing to let them in and give them a chance.  In that sense, this was also an ode to books and reading, which I absolutely appreciated.  

The other thing I really liked about this book was the writing, which was beautiful and lyrical, similar to what I saw in The Scent Keeper.  I also found it refreshing that this book was written from the third person perspective — which normally wouldn't matter to me, but because most of the books I've read lately were written from the first person point of view, it was nice to finally read something where I got to see things from all the different characters' perspectives instead of having to remain in one character's head through the entire story. 

My one complaint — which I always have with short story collections (though more accurately speaking, this was actually a "novel in stories" where various characters cross over into each other's story) — is that each story is incomplete, so we only get glimpses into each character's background.  This made it hard to form a connection with the characters, which is important for me seeing how much I love character- driven stories — though having some of the stories be linked to each other (i.e. the writer, the agent, the publishing assistant for the same book all have their own stories) as well as having some of the characters "pass through" each other's stories did help.

Overall, I enjoyed this one immensely, though I didn't love it the way I did The Scent Keeper. Having said that, I still highly recommend this one, especially with its interesting structure and the way it explores various life situations that will likely resonate with many readers. I also think that people who love books and recognize the importance of reading will really appreciate this one.

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

Review: Yellowface (by R.F. Kuang)

My Rating:  3.5 stars



I'm honestly not sure how to feel about this one.  Part of me wants to approach this from the satire angle, which helps me to not take this story so seriously and thereby enables me to tamp down my frustration and anger at the plethora of "problematic" actions and behaviors of all the characters in the story. The other part wants to approach this from the angle of a necessary commentary on the dark and ruthless underbelly of the publishing industry, the toxicity of social media, the rise of online book communities, and of course, the most most front and center hot button topic in recent years — racism and social justice. Regardless of which angle though, one thing I do need to make clear is that I'm approaching this book from the position of not having read any of R.F. Kuang's previous works and also not having much knowledge of her background or history as an author.  I feel this is an important distinction to make because, just glancing through the mixed bag of reviews and ratings on Goodreads, it's pretty obvious that this book is going to provoke strong reactions in readers that will vary greatly  depending on each person's background, experiences, and also familiarity with the author and/or her works. (As a side note, it seems that most of the negative reviews of this book on Goodreads seem to focus on the "meta" aspect of the story as it pertains to Kuang's own background and interactions related to her previous works — while these observations may be completely valid, this was an angle that did not concern me given my lack of familiarity with the author, so it won't be a focus of this review).

Kuang actually covers a lot of ground with this book in terms of topics — in addition to the commentary on hot button issues mentioned earlier, the story also explores cultural appropriation, colonialism, systemic racism, cyber bullying, the current political environment, censorship, toxic friendships, recent debates about who should be allowed to tell which stories, etc. While so many of these topics are important and should be brought up for discussion, I have to admit that it felt like too much all at once, to the point that, at times, I felt I was being bombarded with one issue after another after another, making it difficult to process my thoughts (which, to me, was necessary given how "heavy" so many of the topics were).  I honestly think that the story would've been a less overwhelming experience (and hence a more powerful and effective story) if it had focused less on trying to cover all bases and instead, focused on only a few topics to explore more in depth.   

Aside from the subject matter, the other thing that made this book a difficult read, at least for me, was the fact that all of the characters in the story were hugely unlikable, with the main protagonist June Hayward (aka Juniper Song) being particularly loathsome and pathetic (it also didn't help that the entire story was narrated from June's first person point of view, so we were stuck listening to her endless excuses and whining the whole time).  It's honestly hard to enjoy a story when you hate the main character and have no one else to root for because all the supporting characters were also annoying.

As I mentioned earlier, this is a provocative story with so many topics that could actually be debated ad nauseam and probably we would never be able to come to an agreement on anything.  One of the central issues that the story dives into — and the one most resonant for me — is the idea of who gets to tell what story.  In theory, I don't have a problem with an author "going outside their lane" so to speak — in this instance, a white author writing an Asian story — as long as it's done correctly, which in my book means doing so respectfully and as authentically as possible (though yes, there is also the argument about how this takes the opportunity away from a marginalized author to tell the same story, which I also agree with, but that's a whole separate debate altogether and not really the focus of this story).  But I think what happens in Yellowface actually goes beyond this (who should get to tell the story) — technically, it's not about whether June, who is white, should be allowed to tell a story about Chinese history and culture, as the fact of the matter is that the original story was written by her friend Athena Liu (who is Chinese).  The real issue here is that, when Athena dies unexpectedly, June "takes" the manuscript and publishes it as her own.  Sure, June makes a lot of edits to the manuscript and even "rewrites" large chunks of it, since Athena's version was unfinished (this is important because June clings to this throughout the story as her main "justification" for why the story belongs to her and hence she did nothing wrong).  Even so, June had the choice to go down the proper path with this — that is, to credit Athena for coming up with the story and writing majority of it, and to attach herself as collaborator in finishing and editing it (there is a scene where June actually considers doing this).  But she deliberately chooses not to and that, friends, is the crux of the problem.  To me, once June made that choice, nothing else mattered — I no longer cared what excuses or justifications she gave (believe me, she gave PLENTY), or what "factually" happened or didn't happen (i.e.: "I didn't mean to take it, I was just curious" or "I never 'pretended' to be Chinese so it's not cultural appropriation" or "Athena is a bad person because she stole from me first", etc). At that point, it was hard not to view June in a negative light for the rest of the story.  

Of course, it probably also doesn't help June's case that I'm Chinese myself and am intimately familiar with the language and culture, which means that I understood most of the nuances in Athena's manuscript, so June's actions come across as even more egregious in my view.  There was one passage in particular that got me seething mad (yes, THAT passage in which June's complete ignorance of Chinese culture is put on full display) — thinking about it now though, it strikes me that perhaps this may have been intentional on the author's part, as there is no way that anyone with even a passing knowledge of Chinese language and culture wouldn't be triggered by the "edits" that June makes to the script.  Speaking of which, the other thing that really bothered me was June's attitude — specifically the utter delight and glee with which she "changed" Athena's creation. The entire section that details June's "editing sessions" was honestly very painful to read — not just from the perspective of someone who knows the culture, but also from the perspective of a writer who has spent countless hours on a project, only to see someone else come in and happily "butcher" it.  And then, to add further insult to injury, there's this passage, where June's editor Daniella tells her at the end of the sessions: "You are so wonderfully easy to work with. Most authors are pickier about killing their darlings" to which June's immediate reaction is "This makes me beam. I want my editor to like me. I want her to think I'm easy to work with, that I'm not a stubborn diva, that I'm capable of making any changes she asks for. It'll make her more likely to sign me on for future projects."  Needless to say, I wanted to punch June's lights out by that point (and this was only at the 15% mark in the story, unfortunately). 

Overall, in terms of literary merit, I feel that this book is definitely worth reading (and to some extent, it's actually a necessary read from the social commentary aspect), but like I said earlier, what the reading experience is going to be like will depend on how close you are to the subject matter.  Given my background, reading this book was obviously not a pleasant experience for me (hence why I rated this the way I did), but that does not mean others will feel the same way.  With that said, I do think that, with this book in particular, given so many triggering elements to it, the best course of action might be to check out as many reviews as possible (both positive and negative) before making the decision whether to pick it up.  I had heard that this book is actually a departure from R.F. Kuang's usual style and while I can't comment on that, I will say that the unpleasant experience with this one hasn't discouraged me from wanting to read her previous works.  I have both Babel and The Poppy Wars trilogy on my shelves and I do intend to read both at some point down the line.

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: Bird by Bird (by Anne Lamott)

My Rating: 5 stars

Who knew reading about writing could be so fun?  One of the things that sets Anne Lamott's classic writing guide, Bird by Bird, apart from other books on the subject is the honest, down-to-earth, humorous manner in which she conveys both the joys and frustrations of the writing life.  I love how Lamott recounts her experiences with such raw honesty and self-deprecating humor, while at the same time, relaying valuable advice that is both relevant and useful.  The other thing I love about this book is that Lamott's writing is very accessible — she doesn't use flowery, abstract language or wax philosophical about the writing process in ways that make it feel like she is talking down to us.  Rather, it feels like a conversation between friends trading writing advice and telling funny stories about various writing experiences.

Those who've followed my reviews for awhile probably know that I've finally started on the novel writing project that I've been putting off for years.  As part of my "homework" for this project, I've been trying  to read as many books on writing as I can, from writing manuals to memoirs and everything in between.  Many of the books on the subject are relatively cut and dry, and while I usually end up with a few pages of notes, much of the content is largely repetitive, with very little that I feel I can actually apply to my own writing process. Reading Lamott's book was a completely different experience for me — not only did I take pages and pages of notes, I also found a lot of the advice hugely applicable.  

One example of how I've been able to apply Lamott's advice:  Each time I sit down to write, I'm often struck with "the tremendous sense of being overwhelmed" that Lamott describes in this book and if I'm being honest, there have been moments where I've felt like giving up.  Despite the fact that I already have a plot summary and a loose outline of the story's major scenes, I still feel that the task at hand — having to fill in all the details in a way that flows and make sense — is tremendously daunting.  It's during these moments that I usually sit back, take a deep breath, and remind myself of Lamott's advice to "just take it bird by bird" (which, for me, is scene by scene).  I then proceed to utilize her short assignment method of "writing down as much as you can see through a one-inch picture frame" and focus on nothing else at that moment except writing out that one scene. Continuing to apply this method, I eventually start to accumulate random scenes, which I intend to piece together at the very end.

Another example:  I'm a perfectionist when it comes to my own writing.  The novel project notwithstanding, in everything I write — be it emails, reviews, even personal notes that no one is going to see but myself — I'm obsessed with making sure every sentence I put down is perfectly constructed, that I'm using the exact words I need to use to convey the meaning I want to get across, that there is not a single mistake with spelling, grammar, sentence structure, etc.  And when a mistake is found, I tend to beat myself up over it but worst of all, it puts me on edge so that the next time I sit down to write something, I end up paying more attention to HOW I'm writing rather than WHAT I'm writing.  As a result, as much as I love to write, it can be a very draining process for me. In her book, Lamott talks about perfectionism as well as terrible first drafts and knowing what type of writer I am, these sections resonated with me especially deeply.  As it pertains to writing, Lamott likens perfectionism to clearing up clutter, wanting "desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up" later, but all it does is "ruin your writing, blocking inventiveness and playfulness and life force."  She encourages us to leave messes be because "we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here — and by extension, what we're supposed to be writing."  Related to this, another piece of advice that I found especially useful and resonant is this:  "Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts.  You need to start somewhere.  Start by getting something — anything — down on paper.  A friend of mine says that the first draft is the down draft— you just get it down.  The second draft is the up draft — you fix it up.  You try to say what you have to say more accurately. And the third draft is the dental draft, where you check every tooth, to see if it's loose or cramped or decayed, or even, God help us, healthy."  

After reading this book, I now understand why it is on nearly every recommended list as a "must-read" for writers.  I of course, absolutely agree — this is an indispensable read for writers of all stripes, a writing bible of sorts, but more importantly, it is one of those books that I plan to re-read whenever I feel discouraged or uninspired in my writing. Definitely a wonderful book and a necessary addition to every writer's bookshelf!

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.