Review: Heart the Lover (by Lily King)

My Rating: 5 stars

When I first found out that Lily King would have a new book out this year, I was super excited, as I had read Writers and Lovers a few years back and absolutely loved it.  As I tried to find out everything I could about King’s new novel Heart the Lover (an interesting title that I realize now is perfect given the context of the story), I discovered that the story is actually connected to King’s previous novel, which of course made me want to read this one even more.  With that said, since it had been a couple of years, I felt like I needed to refresh my memory of Writers and Lovers, so I decided to do a re-read of that book before starting this new one (for the record, I’ve never been much of a re-reader, mostly because I have a never-ending TBR list and very limited free time, so I would rather spend that time making a dent in that list).  Now, after finishing both books back-to-back, I’m so glad I decided to go this route because it absolutely elevated the reading experience for me!

Normally, when I rate a book 5 stars, I wouldn’t have any problem gushing about all the things I loved about the read, but in this case, I have to hold back a little because I don’t want to spoil the story for those who haven’t had the chance to pick this one up yet (if you’re one of those people, my advice would be to “hurry up and do so,” lol).  What I will say is that, even though this book can definitely be read as a standalone, I feel that having the background context from Writers and Lovers makes this a much more emotionally resonant read.  One of the (many) reviews I read for this book refers to it as both a “prequel and sequel” to Writers and Lovers, which is such a brilliantly apt description that summarizes the connection between the two books without giving too much away. With this prequel+sequel, I definitely enjoyed getting to revisit characters I loved from the first book while also meeting new characters that I grew to love just as much.  Speaking of which, in each of the books of hers that I’ve read, Lily King seems to have a special talent for writing endearing characters whom you can’t help falling in love with, despite disagreeing with (and sometimes getting annoyed by) their actions and/or behaviors.  But what I love most about King’s writing here is the way she is able to capture the endearing qualities of children -- the wide-eyed curiosity, the naivete, and overall innocence of childhood – so perfectly.  Many of my favorite scenes in both books were the ones that featured children interacting with the adults – the warmth and humor that emanated from these scenes never failed to put a smile on my face (especially poignant at our current moment in time when the world around us feels so chaotic and miserable). 

Anyway, I’m going to keep things short and sweet for this one and end with a solid recommendation to definitely pick this one up so you can experience it for yourself.  Aand if you are able to read it back-to-back with Writers and Lovers, all the better!

Review: Gone Before Goodbye (by Reese Witherspoon and Harlan Coben)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

Before I go into my thoughts on this book, one thing I feel compelled to start with is that I’m a bit of a cynic when it comes to books written by celebrities and/or other famous public figures who are very much “not” authors.  Part of this could be because I’m a writer myself and understand how much work (blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifice) goes into writing something worth reading – in a sense, writing is an activity bordering on “sacred” for me, so I can’t help feeling disappointed when I see celebrities attach their names onto books that they didn’t actually write themselves, but they are given all the credit for it (yes, I’m looking at you, ghostwritten celebrity memoirs).  Now before I get attacked by any fans, I need to make it clear that I am not saying that’s what happened here, since, to Reese’s credit, she has been very forthcoming from the getgo about the fact that she did not write this book herself, rather it is a “collaboration” with established author Harlan Coben. Further, Reese has said in interviews (as well as in the Acknowledgements pages at the back of the book) that she provided the “seed of an idea” for the story and Coben was the one who turned it into “a fully fleshed-out, page-turning thriller” – so yes, I acknowledge that this situation is not on the same level as those ghostwritten books where the “real” author is given little to no recognition.

With that said however, I will be honest in saying that, after finishing this book, I can’t help but wonder about Reese’s involvement in its writing – specifically, did she write some of it or none at all?  The reason I say this is because the entire novel felt very “Coben-esque” in the sense that it read very much like a plotty action thriller with too many macho male characters, too few underdeveloped female characters, and tons of action scenes involving gun fights, helicopters, car and motorcycle chases, death-defying stunts, etc.  In other words, the book seems to be geared more toward Coben’s fans than Reese’s.  I also can’t help but be reminded of a question that had come up back when the Reese Witherspoon/Harlan Coben collaboration was first announced:  given that Reese’s Hello Sunshine media brand “puts women at the center of every story across all platforms” (this is from the blurb on the book’s back cover) and the books she chooses for her Book Club are all written by female authors, why would she choose a male author to collaborate with for her debut novel?  Doesn’t this contradict what Reese tries to do with her brand?  Indeed, judging from her book club picks (for the record, I’m not a Reese fan, but I do follow her book club because majority of the books she chooses to feature happen to fit my reading tastes), I was expecting Reese’s debut novel to be a collaboration with a female author (perhaps one she has featured in her book club) and more in the vein of a high concept literary suspense / thriller with a strong female protagonist at its center.  Turns out I had the wrong expectations.

Don’t get me wrong – this book had an interesting premise and I would say that I did “enjoy” it overall, but it didn’t blow me away.  There were the expected twists and turns (Coben is a seasoned suspense / thriller writer after all), though as usual, I was able to figure most of the plot points out early on, so the suspense portion was a little lacking.  Also, the ending kind of left me scratching my head -- it felt anti-climactic to me given how “action-packed” the rest of the story was (though it could be that I just didn’t “get” the ending).

In any case, this was an overall entertaining read that I’m sure fans of action thrillers will love, but if, like me, you’re not keen on action thrillers, then you might want to temper your expectations if you decide to pick this one up.  Also, one last thing to note is that, given the premise, there are a lot of details related to the medical and technology fields throughout the book – personally, I felt it was a bit much and at times, the technical jargon kind of bogged down parts of the plot, but again, this could just be me not being into the “science-y” stuff…my guess is that this won’t be  a problem for most folks who decide to read this one.

Review: The Correspondent (by Virginia Evans)

My Rating: 5 stars

I can’t remember the last time I read an epistolary novel that had such a profound impact on me, to the point that I’m still thinking about the story and its characters long after I finished reading.  I’ve always found the epistolary format very tricky to get right, which is probably why not too many authors attempt it -- so in this light, I applaud Virginia Evans for not only putting in the effort (for her debut, no less!), but also doing such an amazing job with it.

At the heart of this novel is the titular “correspondent,” a septuagenarian named Sybil Van Antwerp who has a prickly personality and is stubbornly set in her ways.  While she is not “mean” per se, she can be outspoken and direct to a fault in the letters that she writes to friends, family, and strangers alike, unafraid to mince words and not shy about “letting people have it” if she thinks they deserve it.  That said, Sybil’s letters aren’t always criticizing or negative – sometimes they are full of praise and sometimes they are indifferent, but most often the letters are a way for Sybil to gather her thoughts and make sense of the world around her. I will admit that, at first, I didn’t think I would like Sybil all that much, as I was kind of put off by her stubborn cynicism, but over the course of the story, she really started to grow on me, especially as I learned more about her and started to better understand the nuances of her life.  With character-driven novels such as this one, an element that I always look for is whether the characters – specifically the main protagonist(s) – grow and change in some way or they remain essentially the same throughout the story. In this regard, I definitely appreciate the way Evans developed Sybil’s character arc – she is flawed, yes, and she absolutely makes mistakes, some small, a few big (so big, in fact, that they altered the course of her life forever), yet she learns from these mistakes and tries to do better, even if, in some cases, it is too late.  Some of the letters are a way for Sybil to work through her guilt, grief, and regret over various incidents that occurred in her life, which we as readers may not realize until we see how things play out at the end of the book.  Either way, Sybil ends up becoming an unforgettable character for me, someone whom I enjoyed getting to know, and ultimately, couldn’t help rooting for, even when I disagreed with some of her actions and behavior.

One of the criticisms of the epistolary format is the oftentimes lack of emotional depth – though this is true in many instances, it certainly wasn’t the case here, at least not for me.  This book made me laugh, cry, and feel all the emotions in between.  Not only that, I was also able to connect with both the story and the characters, on so many levels. I loved the “bookish” element to the letters, as Sybil is very well-read and one of the things she enjoys doing most is writing to the authors of books she’s read and giving them her unfettered opinion, be it good, bad, or indifferent.  She writes to Ann Patchett (one of my favorite authors) about her novel State of Wonder, to Kazuo Ishiguro about Never Let Me Go (one of my all-time favorite novels), to Larry McMurty about Lonesome Dove (one of the most poignant letters in the book), to Diana Gabaldon about her Outlander series (a letter which cracked me up because most of it was complaining about the amount of sex in the book), and most often, to Joan Didion, a “friend” with whom she shares an emotional connection (I don’t want to say more because I don’t want to give the story away).

Given how much there was to love about this book, I could go on, but I think it’s best to let readers experience this one for themselves.  With that said, the epistolary format isn’t for everyone, so the reaction to this book might be different depending on the reader (which, of course, is perfectly okay).  I loved this one and connected with it on a profound level (partly because I’m also an introvert who prefers written communication over verbal communication), but others might not feel the same way.  There are also quite a few trigger warnings with this one, so that might be something to look into for some readers.

All in all, a great read that I wholeheartedly recommend!

Review: What We Left Unsaid (by Winnie M. Li)

My Rating: 4 stars

As I sit down to write this review, it dawns on me that I have now read two road trip themed books back-to-back -- while this was definitely unintentional, I appreciate how different the experience reading each book was. Specifically, what I found most interesting was seeing how two authors from entirely different backgrounds take the same road trip theme in completely opposite directions, yet if we look closely, both books actually share something else in common: they are both timely and poignant responses to the chaotic nature of the world we live in currently, which is a connection I was not expecting, but I’m glad I got to experience.

Winnie M. Li mentions in her Acknowledgments note that the idea for her novel What We Left Unsaid was sparked by her realization that, as a Taiwanese-American who grew up in the United States, she “had never done the Great American Road Trip – and was maybe missing out on some seminal life experience,” so she gathered her partner Sam and her two year old son Timo and together, went on a three week road trip to do “research” for this book.  The result is a profound and eye-opening exploration of not just family, race, and culture, but also what it means to be an American, especially one of foreign descent.

Li’s fictional story revolves around the 3 Chu siblings: Bonnie, the ever-responsible eldest sister who married into wealth and lives in the Massachusetts suburbs with her husband Chris and 3 sons; Kevin, the precious middle son living a well-to-do life with this family in Chicago; and Alex, the free-spirited and rebellious baby sister who lives with her partner Nya in London.  All three of them are called back home to California, where their parents live, when their mother becomes gravely ill.  But before they are allowed to visit, their mother makes an odd request – she wants them to complete the road trip to the Grand Canyon that their family was in the middle of 30 years ago, but ended up aborting due to an incident that had occurred on their way there.  So the Chu siblings decide to do a road trip via Route 66, with a stop at the Grand Canyon before heading to California.  In chapters that alternate between past and present, and told from the perspectives of each sibling, the present-day road trip is juxtaposed with the one from their childhood, with the details of that long-ago incident revealed bit by bit over the course of the story.

This was a story that resonated deeply with me – not the road trip part of course, as I dislike driving in general and my motion sickness makes riding in a car for hours on end unfathomable.  Rather, what I connected with most were the three siblings’ experiences growing up in a Chinese immigrant household and the various cultural nuances that influence the family’s dynamics – specifically, the issues with communication amongst the various family members that cause so many misunderstandings in the story. To this point, I feel that the author, Winnie M. Li, captured our culture’s reticence and propensity towards silence perfectly.  Indeed, the title What We Left Unsaid is extremely fitting:  not only does it refer to the incident that happened on the aborted Grand Canyon trip, but more specifically, it is a particularly apt explanation of the simultaneously fraught yet loving dynamic that underlies each sibling’s individual relationship with their parents – relationship dynamics that I’m more than familiar with due to the outsized role they play in my own life everyday. In fact, at so many points throughout the story, I couldn’t help nodding my head in recognition at many of the familiar thoughts, feelings, and experiences that the characters go through as they reflect on both their place in the family as well as within society. 

Overall, I enjoyed reading this one, even though, admittedly, some parts were uncomfortable to read, precisely because the scenario hit too close to home -- looking back at it now, I appreciate the way reading about these dynamics made me reflect on my own family situation and relationships.  I would definitely recommend this book, though with the caveat that, undoubtedly, each reader’s reaction to it will be different. While I agree with some of the same things that other readers found annoying with the story (for example – Kevin and Alex’s constant bickering, which got on my nerves at times), I feel this was a worthwhile read overall, and also a timely one given our current environment.

 

Received ARC from Atria/Emily Bestler Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Road to Tender Hearts (by Annie Hartnett)

My Rating: 4 stars

When I first picked up Annie Hartnett’s newest novel The Road to Tender Hearts and read the premise, it sounded a little silly to me and I wasn’t sure if I would like it.  But then I remembered that I had read Harnett’s previous novel Unlikely Animals and had really enjoyed that one, so I should probably give this one a go (plus, with the world we’re living in, maybe “silly” is what we need right now).  In any case, I’m glad I decided to go with this weird, quirky, humorous, heartwarming read, as it provided a nice departure from the mostly “heavy” stuff that I had been reading as of late.

On the surface, the premise sounds pretty simple:  sixty-three-year-old PJ Halliday reads in the paper that the husband of his high school crush Michelle Cobb has died, so he decides to embark on a cross-country road trip to the retirement community where she lives to try and win her back.  But where the complication kicks in is that, before PJ gets a chance to leave for his trip, he is unexpectedly entrusted with the care of two children whom he never knew existed:  the recently orphaned grandchildren of an estranged half-brother with whom he had lost touch years ago. PJ decides to take the children with him on the trip and also asks (more like begs) his 20-something daughter Sophie to go with him, which she agrees to do because, well, there needs to be an “adult” on this trip after all (this will make more sense if you’ve read the book). Oh and then there is Pancakes, an escaped but not-exactly-stray orange tabby cat with the “special power” to predict death – when the cat suddenly shows up outside of PJ’s home, he decides to take his new little friend on the trip as well.  So the road trip ends up consisting of an eccentric, recovering alcoholic with a fragile heart (he’s had 3 heart attacks already), a pair of ten-year-old recently orphaned siblings who are not actually twins, an adult daughter who has been adrift since the death of her sister, and a (talking?) cat that is a “harbinger of death”.  On such a “unique” road trip unlike any other, what could possibly go wrong?  Well, you will need to read the book to find out!

As I mentioned earlier, this was a weird and silly story, but it was also delightful and fun.  I personally really liked it, but looking at the reviews, the reaction to this one seems to be a mixed bag.  Admittedly, like many others, I did find this story grounded more in reality than Hartnett’s previous book (except for the “talking” cat of course) and if we look at the story from this perspective, there were quite a few things that probably shouldn’t have worked plot-wise – but in my opinion, that’s not actually the best way to read this story.  For me, this story wasn’t meant to be taken too seriously.  I mean, sure, there are some “hard” issues that are explored in the story, but these are dealt with in ways that don’t lean too much into the “seriousness” of the issues but also don’t make light of them either.  I feel that Hartnett did a great job injecting just the right amount of humor into the story so that in the end, it was a lighthearted enough read, but also emotionally nuanced and moving.  Hartnett sums up the tone of the book perfectly when she writes in her Author’s Note (Acknowledgments): “This was my challenge to myself: to put everything bad I could think of in there and make it my funniest book yet.  Humor is how I have always coped with anxiety and fear and terror and discomfort, so I wanted to make it all terrible but also very funny.  Things are so horrendously bad, let’s laugh about it!”

Indeed, this is a book with lots of humor but also lots of heart.  Highly recommended!

Review: 11/22/63 (by Stephen King)

My Rating: 5 stars

Wow, what a book!  This 849-page tome took me more than a week to read, but it was absolutely worth every minute spent (and then some). 

Those who are familiar with my reading preferences probably won’t be surprised to hear that this is my very first Stephen King book. Growing up, my impression of King has always been that he is a brilliant writer of horror novels (I mean, they don’t call him the “Master of Horror” for nothing) -- since horror is a genre I don’t read at all, it made sense that, for most of my life, I had never been interested in reading any of King’s fictional works.  Then a couple of years ago, a friend who was (and still is) a huge fan of King’s works not only corrected my misguided assumptions, but also helpfully gave me a list of his non-horror books to try.  Of course, 11/22/63 was on that list (in fact, it was at the top of the list, since it’s my friend’s favorite Stephen King novel), but since I had just started graduate school, I knew I wouldn’t have the time to get to it, so I put the list away and essentially forgot about it.  Coincidentally (or perhaps not?  Within the context of 11/22/63, the word “harmonic” slips into my mind as I write this, lol), one of my book clubs recently chose this book as our next read (cleverly aligned to the timeline of the story itself), but not only that, I just wrapped up my schooling last month and already started getting back into the full swing of things in terms of my leisure reading (not to mention I had just finished the last book I was reading and was thinking about what to read next) – talk about perfect timing!

In terms of the book itself – well, the fact that I gave it 5 stars already says a lot, especially since I’m usually really stingy when it comes to book ratings. The other thing worth mentioning though, is that, in addition to not reading horror, I’m also not a fan of science fiction (which is the main genre that this book is marketed as) – especially time travel stories (which, of course, is the main premise that anchors the book) because I’m the type of person who finds it extremely difficult to suspend disbelief, so I tend to get too caught up in the “hows” and “whys” and “what the hecks” and spend so much time trying to rationalize things that the story itself ends up getting lost on me.  In essence, reading time travel stories is usually a frustrating experience for me.  But that’s not all – I’m also admittedly not keen on stories about American politics and try to avoid that subject matter as much as I can (though with that said, JFK was always been an “exception” in our household, since my mom was a huge fan of his, so when it came to the subject of the Kennedy assassination, I grew up with information overload). Lastly, I’m also a bit of a cynic when it comes to romance, so the fact that there would be a story arc revolving around a central romance (specifically between the main protagonist Jake Epping and the librarian he meets during his time travel adventure, Sadie Dunhill) would not have interested me. 

Essentially, you could say that the odds were stacked against me liking this book, since it had so many of the things I usually shy away from in a book – and yet…to my utter surprise and astonishment, I ended up loving this book.  I’ve heard from many people who say that Stephen King is a masterful storyteller – I have to say that I absolutely agree, as my own experience reading 11/22/63 is a testament to this.  The way King wrote all of the characters – from the main characters of Jake and Sadie to the supporting ones such as Al, Deke, Miz Mimi (one of my favorite characters in the book), Miz Ellie, and even the minor ones such as Mike Coslaw and Bobbie Jo Allnut – he got me to care about all of them.  He also made the story riveting and compelling to the point that I was not only absorbed and invested in the story, I was actually so wrapped up in it that I completely forgot about the time travel element and as a result, didn’t get a chance to get “lost in the weeds” like I normally would have.  It definitely helped that King kept the time travel elements and rules very simple and didn’t dwell a whole lot on the mechanics.  Sure, there were moments when I didn’t really understand what I was reading and at times, some of the “science-y” stuff still went completely over my head, but unlike other stories with similar elements, the time travel / sci-fi aspect totally worked.  In terms of the romance part – well, let’s just say I read the last dozen or so pages with tears in my eyes.  Needless to say, I was definitely not expecting the “Master of Horror” to write such a tender, moving, and heartbreakingly poignant love story.

I am so glad that my introduction to Stephen King was through this beautifully written masterpiece. This book truly has a little bit of everything – mystery, suspense, romance, political intrigue, meticulous historical research, literary allusions (it is not lost on me that the main character, Jake Epping, is an English teacher), nostalgia, humor (this is another thing that surprised me – King’s brilliant use of subtle sarcasm and wit to create some truly hilarious scenes), and of course, the creepy elements (though there were some admittedly graphic and violent scenes, fortunately they were written in a way that was not overwhelming, to the point that the scaredy-cat in me was able to tolerate them). Now I’m excited to read more of King’s books, though of course, I will definitely be sticking with the non-horror ones!

Review: The Phoenix Pencil Company (by Allison King)

My Rating: 4 stars

Allison King’s debut novel The Phoenix Pencil Company was an interesting read that turned out to be nothing like what I expected when I first picked it up.  This is one of those books that I would call a “genre mashup” where several different genres – historical fiction, contemporary fiction, light fantasy with touches of magical realism, and even a dash of romance – are woven together to form a compelling story that not only kept me engaged from the beginning, but also  continually surprised me with the various directions that the narrative took. 

One of the unique aspects about this story is that it is a dual timeline narrative (alternating between past and present), but told in an epistolary format from both first person and second person point of view.  The present timeline, written in the form of blog-like journal entries, is told from the perspective of Monica Tsai, a reclusive twenty-something computer engineering student whose two main joys in life are coding and spending time with the beloved grandparents who raised her.  When Monica returns home to Cambridge, Massachusetts during the summer of her freshman year in college, she discovers that her grandmother Wong Yun, has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s – a discovery that sets Monica on the path of not only reconnecting her grandmother with her long lost cousin Chen Meng, but also unearthing a long-buried family secret:  the magical power of Reforging words written with the pencils created by her family’s Phoenix Pencil Company. The historical timeline is told from the perspective of Monica’s grandmother Wong Yun, written in the form of a “letter” to her cousin Chen Meng, through the Reforged pencil which Yun uses to preserve her memories.  In this past timeline, we are transported back to late 1930s Shanghai, China, during World War II, as Yun recounts her childhood working with Meng at the family’s Phoenix Pencil Company.  With the historical timeline, one of the things I appreciated was the depth of coverage in terms of the historical events on the Asian front during WWII.  Indeed, when it comes to novels set during this period, the mainstream familiarity with WWII is traditionally from either the European or the American perspective – from the Chinese perspective however, WWII actually started when Japan invaded Manchuria in 1931, which officially launched the Sino-Japanese War and ultimately, Japan’s occupation of various parts of China in the late 1930s when the story’s historical timeline begins. The timeline also covers the period immediately after WWII, with the Chinese civil war in which the Nationalists and the Communists fought for control of China, resulting in the formation of a separate government in Taiwan. 

Of course, as a fan of historical fiction, I found the “past” timeline more interesting story-wise, but from a character perspective, the “present” (contemporary) timeline definitely won hands down.  I absolutely loved the relationship between Monica and her grandparents – their interactions were so genuine and moving that I was nearly brought to tears more than once, especially during those moments when the characters would find themselves at a crossroads, trying to reconcile the aspects of their culture (for example, the emotional restraint and reticence that is a common trait in Chinese culture) that was in conflict with the reality of their life experiences and situations. I also found it especially refreshing that the novel centered on the Chinese American experience without following the usual immigrant narrative.  Instead, it highlighted the significant role of grandparents – a perspective that is deeply important, yet often overlooked. 

With that said, there was some “science-y” stuff related to Monica’s profession – coding and tech terminology, specifically – that went completely over my head, but luckily, this didn’t detract from my overall enjoyment of the novel.

King’s strong debut is a genre-defying, heartfelt tale that explores family, culture, identity, and sacrifice, while also providing thoughtful insight on contemporary concerns related to the use of technology, data privacy, and consent.  While some aspects of the story may require a little bit of patience to get through, the emotional resonance of the characters’ relationships as well as the unique narrative format make this a worthwhile read that I wholeheartedly recommend!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

 

Review: Slow Productivity (by Cal Newport)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I definitely have mixed feelings when it comes to my thoughts on this book.  Admittedly, I don’t read a lot of non-fiction books, especially ones that fall into the “self-help” category (as this one undoubtedly does).  One reason is because I don’t find most of these “self-help” books particularly “helpful” and since it takes me longer to read non-fiction books in general, I feel it wouldn’t be a good use of my time.  In this light, Cal Newport’s latest book, Slow Productivity, is a bit of an anomaly – on the one hand, I found the anecdotes and stories it tells of a wide-ranging mix of famous people such as Isaac Newton, Jane Austen, Benjamin Franklin, Georgia O’Keefe, Jewel, Alanis Morrisette, etc. quite fascinating and entertaining.  While some of the examples that Newport used to illustrate his points were a bit of a stretch in my opinion, the interesting storytelling made up for the shortcomings in this area, in my opinion.  With that said however, as a practical guide on productivity, I don’t feel this book was tremendously helpful.  Case in point – despite having just finished the book, I’ve already forgotten the “principles” that form the basis of the “slow productivity” philosophy that Newport advocates as well as the practical strategies that he suggests for combatting burnout.  Even after re-reading the summary in attempts to trigger my memory, what comes to mind first and foremost are the stories and anecdotes rather than the guidance or any actionable advice that Newport provides. 

Given the above, it should probably come as no surprise that I don’t have a whole lot to say about this book, so my review will be shorter than what I usually write.  I do recall thinking to myself at various points that I might be able to apply a particular concept in my life, but then I would get to one of the stories and would become so absorbed that I forget the previous point.  Overall, I did get some things out of this book, so it definitely wasn’t a wasted effort in terms of reading experience, just maybe it didn’t serve the purpose that the author intended for it to serve.

Review: The Original Daughter (by Jemimah Wei)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I debated for a long time how best to rate this book.  On the one hand, there were elements of the story that I really connected with – such as Genevieve’s struggle with coming into her own and finding herself in the face of a culture that emphasizes the bonds of family over individuality, as well as the conflicting feelings of resentment and love that forms the basis of Gen’s fraught relationship with her mother Su Yang.  I felt that the author, Jemimah Wei, did a great job capturing the angst as well as the difficulties that the characters faced in trying to convey their feelings – specifically, I was able to relate to the way Genevieve internalized her resentment toward her family, much of it stemming from the cultural reticence that influenced much of her upbringing.  Sharing a similar cultural background with both the author as well as the characters helped me feel emotionally invested in the story, to the point that several scenes actually had me close to tears due to how familiar the particular experience felt.

On the other hand however, I felt the story unfolded way too slowly, and the middle section especially dragged.  This is normally not a problem, but with a character like Genevieve – whom I felt was tolerable but not necessarily likeable – dwelling so much on her flaws made it more difficult, in my opinion at least, to feel prolonged empathy for her struggles.  Indeed, by the end of the story, my sympathy for Genevieve had turned into frustration and ultimately, irritation.  For a book that spans 350+ pages, to only focus primarily on one character’s thoughts and actions made the story feel way too long and drawn out.  Given the story’s heavy emphasis on complicated family dynamics, I think it would’ve been more interesting if we had gotten to hear the perspectives of the other family members – particularly Genevieve’s adopted sister Arin and her mother Su Yang – which also would’ve made the ending more poignant.  I’m usually able to finish a book of this length in 2-3 days, but this one took me more than a week to read, partly because whenever I had to put the book down to do other things, I didn’t always feel like picking it back up again. 

Overall, this turned out to be a mixed bag for me – some parts of it I really liked, other parts not as much.  A decent read, albeit one that requires a little bit of patience, especially at the midway mark.

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.