Review: Mansfield Park (by Jane Austen)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

 

Now that I completed my large essay for class, I can finally buckle down and catch up on my leisure reading, just in time for summer!  But first, a few catch-up reviews on books I had read over the past couple weeks, but didn’t get a chance to write about due to being too busy.

 

Those who’ve been following my reviews probably know that I’m a huge Jane Austen fan.  Since I’m studying British Literature in school, many of my classes will of course cover Austen’s works, which is why I’ve been re-reading all of her novels over the past couple years.  This time around, I re-read Mansfield Park and I will be honest in saying that I struggled quite intensely with how to rate this one (specifically, should I give it 5 stars or 4.5 stars?).

 

On the one hand, this IS my all-time favorite author Jane Austen – call me biased, but I feel like all her novels deserve 5 stars just based on the sheer complexity and nuance of her writing.  On the other hand, MP is my least favorite of Austen’s novels, and the one that actually makes me angriest whenever I read/re-read it.

 

One of the things I’ve always loved about Austen is her ironic wit – she writes with a sardonic sense of humor that renders her novels funny, but in a subtle, inimitably nuanced way.  With MP however, Austen went in a slightly different direction in that she seemed to tone down the satiric humor quite a bit, which had the effect of dialing up the overall “wretchedness” of the characters.  What I mean by this is that in most of her novels, Austen uses humor (albeit subtly) to clever balance out her characters’ follies and vices, which still achieves the ‘cautionary tale’ effect but makes the characters more tolerable and less annoying.  In other words, the mean and nasty (and generally deplorable) characters come across as less mean and nasty (and less deplorable) because the other more sensible characters in the story keep the follies of these characters in check.  Think Mr. Woodhouse in Emma (whose hypochondriac ramblings the people around him pretend to indulge, but in reality, push back upon) or Lady Catherine in P&P (who gets ‘put in her place’ by both Darcy and Elizabeth and different points in the novel).  Basically, with these characters, because they are so heavily caricatured and made fun of, their ridiculousness becomes obvious and they end up making me laugh, which also makes their unlikability less strong.

 

In MP, unlike the other novels, the nasty characters are allowed to ‘run amok’ so to speak and rarely, if ever, get put in their places.  Aunt Norris, for example, is allowed to say all sorts of nasty things to Fanny Price and no one in the Bertram family (not even Fanny’s biggest defender Edmund) ever bothers to refute her or call her out for being abusive (I’ve seen Aunt Norris often described as a ‘bully’ but I personally feel that’s sugarcoating what she truly is: an abuser through and through).  Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram are also awful, but in different ways.  While it’s true that Austen does utilize her signature wit to describe these characters in a at various points in the novel, the sarcasm is relatively mild compared to her other works.

 

And yes, like many readers, I had an issue with Edmund and Fanny as the main couple in this story, as it honestly wasn’t convincing and I honestly did not feel that Edmund was worth Fanny ‘pining’ over for the entirety of the novel.  With that said, I’m probably one of the few readers who does not ‘hate’ Fanny Price – sure, she is very different from Austen’s other heroines: she is meek, obedient, afraid to speak her mind, and self-effacing to the point of being annoying (there were multiple times where I wanted to shake her and tell her to stop putting herself down) – but when I think about the way the Bertram family treated her (subjecting her to constant verbal abuse and tamping down her confidence at every opportunity), it made perfect sense to me why Fanny’s personality turned out the way it did.  Instead of disliking Fanny, I felt sorry for her, and couldn’t help thinking that, if she had been raised under different circumstances, perhaps she would’ve turned out differently.

 

As I mentioned earlier, MP may be my least favorite of Austen’s novels, but it is still a brilliantly written one that is well-worth reading, especially for serious Austen aficionados like myself.  While definitely less charming than P&P (which was intentional on Austen’s part, as she famously thought P&P was too “bright and sparkling,” so her later novels focused on still being comedic but more serious), it’s just as thoughtfully written, with endless angles to explore that only become apparent upon re-reading.

Review: Shelterwood (by Lisa Wingate)

 

My Rating: 4 stars

I’ve been quite a bit behind on my leisure reading as of late and while I hope to catch back up as soon as possible, the reality is that it will be a challenge with peak summer reading right around the corner.  In addition to being busy with work and school, a few of my favorite authors actually have books coming out this summer, so it goes without saying that I will definitely be doing some prioritizing over the next couple weeks in order to get to everything. With that said, I’ve been able to squeeze in a May / June new release here and there.  This time around, the book is Shelterwood, the newest release from Before We Were Yours author Lisa Wingate.

When it comes to dual timeline historical fiction, I usually prefer the past timeline over the present one, but this time around, I felt that the present timeline, which took place in 1990, was much more engaging than the one from 1909.  I think this might be because for most of the 1909 narrative, I had no idea where the story was headed – the pace was slower, some parts didn’t feel entirely believable, and few of the scenes seemed a bit too farfetched, a little like drama was being created for drama’s sake.  The 1990 narrative, in comparisons, moved at a much faster pace and I felt more invested in the story (though I noticed these sections were much shorter than the historical narrative, which made the overall pacing much slower than I would have liked).  Having said all that, I like that Wingate brought both timelines together in a way that was meaningful and memorable; in all honesty, that moment when all the pieces started falling into place and I finally understood the historical situation that Wingate was trying to shine a light on was when I truly became engaged in the story – though I wish it hadn’t taken so long (more than half the book) to get there.

I love historical fiction because of the way the genre makes history so interesting and I always learn something, even if I’m already familiar with the subject matter I’m reading about.  In this case, I knew nothing about Oklahoma’s history and the guardian system that indirectly sanctioned the stealing of land from indigenous children, so I appreciated getting to learn about this (though I highly recommend also reading the Author’s Note, as Wingate recounts the history in way more detail and, for me at least, clarified a few aspects of the narrative that didn’t make a lot of sense at first).

Lastly, I wanted to put in a quick mention about the characters.  My favorite stories are the ones with strong, tenacious female protagonists who aren’t afraid to go against the grain – both Ollie (from the past narrative) and Val (from the present narrative) were precisely this kind of protagonist, which I absolutely appreciated.

This one is definitely recommended, though a little bit of patience is needed to reach the payoff at the end.  For me, it was worth it!

 Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Return of Ellie Black (by Emiko Jean)

 My Rating: 4 stars

This book came onto my radar because I had read Emiko Jean’s previous contemporary / romance novel Mika in Real Life and loved it.  If Jean’s name sounds familiar, that’s because she also wrote the popular YA series Tokyo Ever After.  Now with The Return of Ellie Black, Jean takes on the mystery / suspense / thriller genre through the case of Elizabeth Black, a missing girl who reappears out of the blue after disappearing without a trace two years ago from a town in Washington.  Ellie’s case is being handled by Detective Chelsey Calhoun, a small-town cop whose passion for solving missing person cases stems from her own sister’s disappearance 20 years ago.  Chelsey sets about investigating what happened to Ellie, but the task proves to be more difficult than anticipated due to Ellie’s refusal to cooperate.  When links to other missing girls start to surface -- some of whom, like Ellie, might still be alive – the urgency to solve the case reaches fever pitch.  But with Ellie not cooperating, will Chelsey crack the case in time to prevent other girls from being taken as well?

This is a story that surprised me in many ways.  First (and most important) is the fact that this is definitely NOT another one of those run-of-the-mill thrillers with a helpless (and usually stereotypically drawn) female protagonist at its center who is eventually saved by some guy in uniform (and maybe they live happily ever after if a romantic attraction is thrown in there somewhere).  Instead, this story deals with many real-life issues that we continue to face in our society on a daily basis -- toxic relationships, discrimination of all types (i.e. race, gender, class), misogyny, racism, dysfunctional families, police corruption, class distinctions (i.e. rich versus poor), etc. – in a way that gave the story depth (which meant that, at times, I forgot that I was reading a thriller).  The narrative alternates between the third person perspective (where we get to “hear from” various characters in the story, though mostly from Chelsey) interspersed with a first person “confession” of sorts from Ellie herself, where she recounts in detail everything that happened to her.  For me, this type of narrative (alternating between different voices) can be a bit of a hit or miss, but in this instance, it was done in a way that made sense and also didn’t feel jarring.  In terms of the plot, this one was particularly well done in the sense that I was truly kept at edge of my seat and most significantly, I actually didn’t see any of the twists and turns coming.  I mention this because I’ve read my fair share of mysteries / thrillers over the years where I’m usually able to figure everything out by the halfway point, but that was definitely not the case here – I was genuinely surprised by how things turned out, not to mention all my guesses ended up being wrong (not a bad thing at all when it comes to thrillers). 

Having said all that though, what I loved most about this book was the main protagonist (Detective Chelsey Calhoun).  It’s not lost on me how rare it is to have the main character of a mainstream mystery (thriller/suspense) novel be a strong, smart, competent, kick-ass, no nonsense cop who is both female and Asian (full Japanese, not mixed race).  And yes, it is Chelsey (as the lead detective on the case) who “saves the day” throughout the story, including at the end (I’m proud to admit that I cheered each time Chelsey triumphed, lol).  Most importantly though, Chelsey came across as a real-life person – someone who has her own vulnerabilities and insecurities (especially in her personal relationships) while also having to deal with the realities that come with being female and Asian in a cut-throat profession where she has to fight like hell to prove herself every step of the way.

Emiko Jean is an author whom I’m glad to have discovered and whose backlist I’m happy to explore.  I admire authors who are able to write across multiple genres and so far, based on what I’ve read of her work, Jean seems to have talent in this area.  I hope to read more of her work soon.

Received ARC from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley.

 

Review: The House on Biscayne Bay (by Chanel Cleeton)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

In her latest work, Chanel Cleeton tackles the gothic theme by centering her dual timeline story around Marbrisa, a glamorous mansion built in Miami, Florida right after the Great War. The over-the-top mansion is a gift that Robert Barnes surprises his wife with for her birthday, but during the inaugural party to celebrate the estate's completion, tragedy strikes and their lives are changed forever.  More than 20 years later, Carmen Acosta has no place to go after the tragic death of her parents in an accident, so she moves into the Marbrisa, the mansion that is currently home to her sister Carolina and her rich husband Asher Wyatt.  Prior to her arrival though, strange things were already happening at the mansion but things escalate soon after, to the point where Carmen's life is in danger.  Is Marbrisa cursed and haunted like people believe it is?  Or are the strange events the result of something more sinister?  

Overall, Cleeton's latest foray into Gothic fiction was entertaining, but I enjoyed her previous works more.  While the writing was good (as expected), the plot was way too predictable, to the point that I already had everything figured out less than halfway through the story, which of course took the "suspense" out of things (not to mention some loose ends never got explained, which created a few plot holes here and there).  The other issue I had was the narrative structure: the story was told in a dual timeline structure, with each time timeline narrated from the first person perspective of its respective protagonist— Anna in 1918 and Carmen in 1941.  The two protagonists couldn't have been more different in terms of age, race, life experiences, circumstances, etc., yet at times, I found it difficult to tell the two narrative voices apart and had to go back to check the chapter heading to remind myself which timeline I was reading.  This got a bit tiring after awhile, though it wasn't to the extent where it prevented me from moving through the story at a decent pace.

As I mentioned earlier, I did enjoy this one, but I have to admit that I was a little bummed that the story this time around had no connection to the Perez family (though I shouldn't have been surprised, since this book and her Cleeton's previous one were both standalone). With that said, there was an indirect link to one of Cleeton's previous novels — a "blink and you'll miss it" reference that I totally missed and only found out about after reading the Author's Note.

Even though I didn't take to this one as much as I thought I would, Cleeton continues to be one of those "go-to" authors for me whose works I will continue to read regardless (though I do hope she writes another book with a Perez family connection at some point).

Received ARC from Berkeley via NetGalley.

Review: The Twilight Garden (by Sara Nisha Adams)

My Rating: 4 stars

I had read Sara Nisha Adams's debut novel The Reading List for book club over a year ago and really enjoyed it.  During the author talk for that book, Adams mentioned that her next book would be about a community with a shared garden, which of course, turned out to be this book, her sophomore novel entitled The Twilight Garden. While I have to admit that I enjoyed her debut much more, I still found quite a few things that I liked with this new book, with the first and foremost of those being the characters.  I couldn't help loving the entire Stoke Newington community and all its interesting residents — it felt like it would be a dream to live among them and to be able to share in such a beautiful garden (though minus the foxes please).

Told in somewhat of a dual timeline format (though also divided into 4 parts based on the seasons), the story alternates between the perspectives of Winston and Bernice starting in 2018 — the neighbors live in Numbers 77 and 79 in a townhouse complex on Eastbourne Road (in Stoke Newington, London).  The two houses have a garden that is shared among them (a non-negotiable written into the housing contract).  The garden is in a state of disrepair after being neglected for years, which might as well be fine since the two neighbors can't seem to get along anyway and are constantly arguing with each other.  Winston is an immigrant from India who came to London hoping to fulfill his parents' dream for him to be successful and happy, but instead, he quit his steady job in finance and works instead for his neighbors Sal and Angela in their shop (though they treat him lovingly, like their own son); on top of that, Winston's relationship with his partner Lewis is on shaky ground.  At the same time, he is forced to deal with his bossy new neighbor, Bernice, who just moved into the house next door with her 10 year old son Sebastian, finally on her own after separating from her ex-husband Simon.  The two neighbors seem to be at odds from the start, arguing over everything under sun, but especially over the shared garden;  one day, when Bernice tells Winston off and tries to claim the garden for herself, he decides to start clearing the garden and tending to it out of defiance.  Bernice's son Seb slowly gets to know Winston and soon enough, he is helping his new friend in the garden (much to Bernice's chagrin).  Over the course of a couple months, as Bernice joins her son in helping out with the garden, she begins to understand Winston better and they eventually become friends. Interspersed throughout the Winston-Bernice storyline is a narrative that flashes back to 40 plus years prior, starting in the 1970s, with the story of Maya and Alma, who were the previous residents of Numbers 77 and 79. Maya and her husband Prem are also of Indian descent, but arrived to London from Kenya, where most of their family still reside.  Alma is an interesting character — someone whom all the residents love and fear at the same time. Maya and Alma — two women with such opposite personalities (and also from vastly different backgrounds) become fast friends and even turn their shared garden into a community garden where all their friends and neighbors frequently gathered.  One of the things I really appreciated about this structure was how some of the characters ended up appearing in both narratives, which meant that we got to see them evolve and grow — as a reader who loves character-driven stories, I'm always game for watching characters develop and evolve throughout a story (even though this one was done nonlinearly).

This heartwarming read about friendship and community also had a poignancy to it that I wasn't quite expecting — to the point that I found myself feeling a lump in my throat at certain parts.  Though perhaps I should not have been surprised, given that the overall tone of this second novel is in a similar vein to The Reading List (which was especially poignant and moving).  While this is a book I definitely recommend, I do have to warn that it is very much a "slow-burn" type of story where there is not much of a plot to speak of and nothing "exciting" (depending on one's definition of course) ever really happens.  And those who aren't into gardening might find the detailed descriptions of various plants and flowers and gardening activities a tad less interesting (though thankfully, Adams incorporated these details in a way that wasn't overwhelming).  

Overall, I enjoyed this one for what it was — a moving, emotionally resonant story with endearing, lovable characters (no villains in this story, which is refreshing…oh except maybe the foxes?)  doing everyday things and dealing with everyday issues.  The narrative does meander a bit though, especially in the middle section (the book overall probably didn't need to be as long as it was), but luckily it didn't lose me. I'm definitely looking forward to what Sara Nisha Adams writes next!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: Only the Beautiful (by Susan Meissner)

  

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I’ve had Susan Meissner’s books on my TBR for quite some time, but it wasn’t until recently that I got the chance to read one of her books – and the most recent one at that!  Meissner’s latest Only the Beautiful is one of those books that has so much of what I look for in a truly excellent read:  a genre I love (historical fiction), a beautifully well-written and engrossing narrative, well-developed characters whom I could relate to and root for, meticulously researched elements incorporated seamlessly into the story, and a thought-provoking story arc with emotional depth that continues to stay with me long after I finish reading the book. 

With all that said, I have to admit that I was a bit hesitant to pick this one up at first, mostly because of the WWII setting, as I had read too many books with this setting in recent years and felt like I needed a break – but since I had agreed to read and review this one, I of course followed through with it and am glad I did, as this turned out to be a very different story from what I expected.  Rosie’s story in part 1 was truly heartbreaking and in all honesty, left me speechless, especially as I had no idea that eugenics was being practiced in the United States throughout much of the 20^th century (nor did I know that there were actually laws that supported the practice).  I was also shocked to find out that the state of California (where I grew up and lived my entire life) was the site of the highest number of forced sterilizations in the nation up until the 1960s.  As heartbreaking as part 1 was though, Helen’s story in part 2 was even more so, especially as the parallels between what the Nazis were doing in Europe and what people in positions of power were doing in the United States became terrifyingly clear.

Reading about this history, I could not help but think about all the terrible decisions being made in our country in recent years that attempt to take away our right to choose what is best for ourselves.  As Rosie and Helen both ask at various points in the story:  Why do those in a position of strength get to decide what the best looks like?  Why is it that only the strong get to define what weakness is?  What gives those in power the right to decide who is worthy to be a mother or a father and who is not?  Who gets to decide that living with a disability means that life is not worth living?

There was so much in this book that was difficult to read about, yet I would still highly recommend it as a necessary as well as illuminating read. Books like this one remind me yet again how important it is to understand the connection between history and what is happening in our world currently, as well as how these things can impact our lives in ways both profound and subtle. 

As I await the next book from Meissner, I definitely need to go back and read her other books on my TBR (starting with the ones which I already have physical copies, of course).  Looking forward to more wonderful reads from her backlist!

Received print edition from Berkley via Bookbrowse.

Review: Real Americans (by Rachel Khong)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I just finished a major project for class, so I'm hoping to have some time for catching up on my leisure reading over the next couple weeks. I decided to pick up Rachel Khong's Real Americans next because of an author talk I plan to attend (which I'm very much looking forward to!).  

I will start off by saying that, admittedly, this was one of those books that I found a little bit hard to parse at times, mostly because of the "science" element — which, even though it remains largely in the background throughout most of the story, it does play a pretty significant role in advancing parts of the plot. That said however, I feel that the way Khong structured the story is brilliant — there are 3 parts to the story, each told from the first person perspective of 3 different characters: Lily in 1999, Nick in 2021, and Mei in 2030. All 3 voices felt distinct to me, which is an admirable feat, no doubt, given how different it is to pull off.  The first part of the story, told from Lily's perspective, reads like a romance, as it is the love story of how Lily — the daughter of Chinese immigrants who struggles to make sense of her life working a dead-end job that she's not even getting paid for — meets Matthew, the rich heir of a pharmaceutical conglomerate -a and how they ultimately fall in love and start a family together.  Part 2 fast forwards 22 years later — Lily and Matthew are separated and Lily is raising their son Nick, who is 15 years old, alone in a remote part of Washington.  Told from Nick's perspective, this part feels like a coming of age story, as Nick (who, though biracial, looks more like his father than his mother) struggles to come to terms with his own identity as well as that of his estranged father, whom his mother refuses to tell him anything about.  Part 3 takes place 9 years later, in 2030, but actually provides the backstory that explains many of the things that happened in parts 1 and 2.  This last section (which reads like historical fiction) is told from the perspective of Lily's mother Mei, as she recounts what her life was like growing up in China in the 1960s, at the height of the country's Cultural Revolution, and how she ended up fleeing to America.  What I found interesting about this structure is that all 3 parts, at times, read like 3 different stories (albeit with the same characters), and interestingly enough, the 3 timelines never truly converge like most multiple timeline stories do, yet the overarching story as a whole never felt disjointed.  As I was reading, I was continually engaged with the story, even though oftentimes, not a whole lot was actually happening plot-wise.  All the characters in here were also well-drawn, realistic, and relatable — especially the 3 characters who narrate the story.  

Another interesting thing to note with this story is that it's not one of those stories that ties everything up neatly (and not just the ending). There are gaps in all 3 timelines that are never fully explained, yet the story still feels complete somehow (not sure how to explain this properly but I think those who've read this will know what I mean).  

Overall, this was an engrossing read that I absolutely recommend.  The story itself is definitely the slow burn type — quiet, subtle, and rarely makes any major waves — yet it also never felt boring to me (case in point, I read this in 2 days because I couldn't bring myself to put it down).  Part of this was due to Khong's writing, which the blurb to the book already describes perfectly as "moving" and "immersive."  I haven't yet read Khong's debut novel Goodbye, Vitamin, but given how much I enjoyed this new one, I will definitely have to go back and read that one.

Received ARC from Knopf via NetGalley. 

Review: The Other Side of Disappearing (by Kate Clayborn)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As has probably been evident from the sparseness of my postings in recent weeks, I've been a bit behind on my leisure reading lately.  Don't get me wrong — I've definitely been reading a lot, everyday in fact, it's just that most of it is stuff I need to read for class so that I can complete my assignments.  With that said however, in not wanting to sacrifice my leisure reading too much, I've been trying to find a better balance between work, family, and grad school obligations so that I can get to as many of the books on my teetering TBR as possible (albeit at a slower pace than usual). 

One of the books on my list from last month is Kate Clayborn's newest romance The Other Side of Disappearing.  Since I don't read a lot of romance overall, I usually go off recommendations from friends when it comes to this genre and Clayborn came highly recommended.  I can definitely see why, as Clayborn's romance feels different from ones that I've read in the past — it's written in a way that leaves much food for thought.  The story is narrated in the first person and alternates between the perspectives of the main couple, Jess Greene and Adam Hawkins.  Adam is employed by Broadside Media, where he is assigned to  work with veteran journalist Salem Durant, whose popular podcast about con artist Lynton Baltimore catapulted her to fame over a decade ago.  That podcast resulted in some unfinished business and Salem wants nothing more than to track Baltimore down in order to tie up that particular loose end. The opportunity arises when they are contacted by Tegan Caulfield, whose mother Charlotte abandoned her 10 years ago when she ran away with her then-boyfriend (whom Tegan finds out is actually con man Baltimore). With some clues Tegan provides, they arrange to go on a search for Charlotte, which they hope will also lead them to Baltimore.  When Tegan's half-sister Jess finds out about the plans, she insists on going along so she can protect the sister whom she has raised since their mother's abandonment.  On this road trip "adventure," all four characters end up discovering things about themselves that ultimately change the course of their lives.

Overall, this was an enjoyable read and a fun way to take a break from so much heavy academic reading.  One of the things that stood out to me with this story is the interesting angle that Clayborn took with the main theme of "disappearing" — she goes beyond the literal definition of the word and instead goes deeper to explore the various forms that "disappearing" can take (not just the physical, but also the emotional, mental, spiritual, etc).  The nuanced way that some of the themes were explored added a little bit of a philosophical bent to the story, which I appreciated.  

My one complaint would be that I found it difficult to connect with the characters for some reason.  I liked the characters for the most part and Adam and Jess as a couple was one I could stand behind and root for (which I did, of course), but I didn't feel as much of an emotional connection as I was expecting. Regardless though, I would definitely read more by this author if the opportunity were to arise.

Received ARC from Kensington via NetGalley.

Review: After Annie (by Anna Quindlen)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

This is a beautifully written story about a young wife and mother, Annie Brown, who collapses on the kitchen floor one night and never gets up again.  In the aftermath, her devastated family, swimming in grief, try to cope with the loss of the person who was the center of their universe — her husband Bill is shellshocked and buries himself in his work; her daughter Ali, only 13 years old, yet as the eldest, takes up the responsibility of caring for her 3 younger brothers as well as her father; Ant, at 11 years old, becomes angry and silent; the two youngest boys, Jamie and Benjy, don't understand what is happening and constantly ask when their mommy will be returning from the hospital, only for their questions to go unanswered; and then there's AnneMarie, the best friend since childhood who was dragged back from the brink of her own drug-fueled self-destruction by Annie, and now is in danger of spiraling out of control again after losing the one person who was her anchor and kept her on solid ground.  

The narrative is divided up based on seasons, starting with the winter day when Annie dies, then follows the family through the subsequent spring, summer, and autumn, at the same time alternating between the perspectives of Bill, Ali, and AnneMarie as they are forced to navigate a world without Annie in it.  The story is so sad and heartbreaking — I especially felt for Ali, who had to take up so much on her own while the adults in her life were adrift and didn't pay her much attention.  All the kids, in fact, I felt so much sympathy for that the entire time I was reading, I just wanted to reach out and hug them, comfort them.

The writing here is so moving and heartfelt — Quindlen captures the nuances of ordinary life so perfectly; at the same time, the way she has her characters navigate grief and loss felt so realistic that, at various points, I found I had tears streaming down my face.

I know Quindlen is a prolific author but this is actually the first time I've read any of her books.  It definitely won't be the last time however and with such a huge backlist, I'm glad that there will be plenty of her books to explore in the future.

Received ARC from Random House via NetGalley.

Review: Supercommunicators (by Charles Duhigg)

My Rating:  4 stars

As I've mentioned in previous reviews, books classified under the "self-help" category can be very much a hit or miss for me. This is partly because overall, it already takes me longer to read nonfiction books and with so many books on my TBR, the time pressure can be quite palpable.  More significantly though, when the book contains a "self-help" element, I feel even more pressure to actually "get" something out of the book in order for me to feel like it was worth my while to read.  This last part depends a lot on how the "self-help" element is presented, which could go in either the "yes, this resonates with me" or "no, most of this doesn't apply to me" direction (of course I always hope for the former).  

In this case, Charles Duhigg's newest book Supercommunicators definitely fell into the "resonant" category for me, even though I will admit that I was a tad hesitant about the subject matter at first. I actually decided to pick up this book not because of the subject (believe me, as an introvert with social anxiety who prefers to be alone rather than be around others, reading about how to better communicate is the last thing I want to do, lol), but rather because I had really enjoyed Duhigg's The Power of Habit (which was massively popular when it first came out in 2012) and so was hoping to find more of the same.  While I have to say that this book turned out to be quite different from the habit book in terms of scope and topic, there were some similarities that made it as enjoyable and interesting a read as that one.  First and foremost, I like that the book is written in a straightforward, easy to understand way, with practical, real world examples that felt both realistic and familiar.  I also like how he formatted the book (similarly to his habit book) where he would structure each chapter around a case study and present details that tied the study to the particular concept he was discussing.  Most of all though, I like the journalistic format where it felt at times that I was reading a series of well-written articles (the type of long-form story-like narratives often found in newsmagazines) — of course this is not surprising given that Duhigg is a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter / journalist (and yes, he writes for newsmagazines in addition to newspapers).

For me, one of the things that can be a "deal-breaker" when I read self-help books is the author's tone, which comes across in their style of writing.  Personally, I can't stand self-help books that make me feel like I'm being lectured or talked down to or that subtly imply that I'm missing out if I don't apply the concepts from the book right then and there. I'm the type of person who needs to let concepts and ideas sink in slowly and gradually before I can derive meaning from them, so I'm not keen on books that feel pushy or overly-preachy.  Duhigg writes in a way where his enthusiasm for the subject shines through, but there's also enough neutrality and restraint where it doesn't feel like he's trying to push me toward one direction or another (at least not overtly anyway, lol).  He also writes with a sense of humor, which I always appreciate, especially in nonfiction books.

Even though some of the concepts covered in this book I felt wouldn't necessarily apply to me, there was plenty that I resonated with…and to me surprise, one of the concepts that Duhigg advocated in the book was something I was already doing for years — I guess I was applying "super communicator" techniques without even knowing it!

This is a book that fans of Duhigg's works will undoubtedly enjoy.  Even if you're not a fan though, there's still plenty to enjoy.  If you've read The Power of Habit , the structure of the book will definitely be recognizable (and if you liked that one, most likely this one will appeal as well).  I just found out that Duhigg also wrote a book on productivity and few years after the habit one — I'm definitely interested in checking that book out at some point!

Received ARC from Random House via NetGalley.