Review: Everyday Movement (by Gigi L. Leung, translated by Jennifer Feeley)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As the city of my birth, Hong Kong has always occupied a special place in my heart.  Of course, I still have relatives in Hong Kong, but it is really my fondness for the city (despite growing up thousands of miles away in the United States), that has spurred me to continue keeping my birth city front and center.  From a daily life standpoint, I stay abreast of Hong Kong-related news just as much as I keep tabs on everything happening in the U.S.  From an entertainment standpoint, I’m actually more familiar with the goings-on in the HK entertainment industry than I am in Hollywood (which is truly saying something considering I live in Los Angeles, so Hollywood is essentially in my backyard).  With all that said, the one area in my life where HK is a bit less dominant is my reading life, though I have to say that this is by no means deliberate.  As a life-long avid reader, I’ve always been one to read widely, so even though I definitely have favorite genres (i.e. historical fiction, literary fiction, to name two), I don’t like limiting myself to reading only specific genres or specific types of books.  When it comes to Hong Kong books however, I unfortunately don’t have much choice due to the dearth of books about the city published in English (and living in the U.S., it is harder for me to access the Chinese language versions that are usually published exclusively in HK).  So in the rare occurrence where I come across a book either set in Hong Kong or written by a Hong Kong author, I will always be interested in reading it, regardless of subject matter and in spite of any type of feedback regarding the book, whether positive or negative.

With all this in mind, I approached Gigi L. Leung’s novel Everyday Movement with a certain amount of anticipation, despite my usual aversion to reading books that lean heavily toward politics.  Set against the backdrop of the 2019 pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong, Leung’s novel actually consists of a series of interconnected vignettes about people from different walks of life who are impacted by the protests going on all around them.  As the story opens, we get glimpses of what life is like for college roommates Panda and Ah Lei, as they navigate their new reality as active participants in the many protests that occur on Hong Kong’s streets triggered by the central government’s planned implementation of a national security law.  At night, Panda and Ah Lei don their protest gear and are regularly chased and tear gassed by police out on the streets, but during the day, both women go about their usual routines – attending class, going to work, arguing with their parents and with each other, going on lunch and dinner dates, etc.  But underneath the enactment of these everyday routines lies a bubbling tension – a feeling of unease and anxiety for the future, not only of their beloved city, but of their own lives as they know it – that threatens to spill over any minute. Via alternating viewpoints, the story expands outward to capture the moments in the lives of others within the two women’s orbits: there’s Panda’s cousin Ah Mak and the fraught relationship he has with his girlfriend Chan Yeuk over each other’s commitment (or lack thereof) to the protest movement, culminating in a break up that, ironically, brings each of them closer to the other’s viewpoint; there’s Panda’s little sister Sai Mui who, as a pre-teen, is too young to understand everything that is happening around her, yet finds herself caught up in all the tension and anxiety through her sister’s love/hate relationship with their mother as they stand on opposite sides of the movement.  There are others too – periphery characters such as the hairdresser Ning On and the affair she has with a protestor nicknamed “Little Professor” as a means to escape the realities of her life while her daughter Ning Yuet doubles down on her activism; English teacher Ho Sam, a mainlander living in Hong Kong who struggles to reconcile his dueling viewpoints, at once supporting the movement while also opposing it; and finally, Panda’s boyfriend Ah Ming, whose less extreme position in support of the movement as opposed to his girlfriend’s fierce devotion creates an untenable rift in their relationship.

Overall, I felt this novel had a promising premise, but it fell a little bit short for me in terms of its execution.  Subject matter-wise, I appreciate Leung’s candid depiction of the political turmoil and the protests, all of which were rendered viscerally realistic to the point that, at times, I forgot that this is a novel and felt that I was reading a non-fiction book instead. To this point, there was a bit of a journalistic feel to the novel, where it felt as though the author was trying too hard to write from a position of neutrality, which resulted in the writing feeling somewhat stilted and emotionless.  This made it hard for me as a reader to connect with the story or any of its characters – though with all that said, I’m not sure if this was actually an issue with the translation or the author’s writing itself. I also felt that the story didn’t have much of a plot, which is usually not a problem if the characters are well-developed, but in this case, due to the varying viewpoints, the focus was on a bunch of different characters rather than just one or two, resulting in the lack of opportunity to flush out any of the characters fully.  All of this combined was perhaps why I ended up not really feeling anything for any of the characters.

While I’m glad I read this one, I’m also a little bummed that I didn’t end up liking this one as much as I thought I would.  Even though some parts of it didn’t really work for me, I would still recommend this one for its realistic portrayal of the HK protests as well as the timeliness aspect in terms of what has been going on in the U.S. as well as the rest of the world – which, for those impacted, would make this a very relatable read.

Review: No Time Like the Future: An Optimist Considers Mortality (by Michael J. Fox)

My Rating: 5 stars

With his iconic roles in television (Family Ties, Spin City) and film (Back to the Future, Teen Wolf, etc.), Michael J. Fox is no doubt a Hollywood legend. Growing up in the 1980s, I’ve always admired Mike’s work as an actor – his comedic timing and trademark sense of humor especially – but over the years, what has turned me into a bona fide fan of his is witnessing his battle with Parkinson’s, the disease with which he was diagnosed at the young age of 29.  In addition to his devoted advocacy work in the area of Parkinson’s research and raising awareness of the disease, Mike’s approach to life – his constant optimism and positivity as well as his ability to face adversity with consistent grace and humor – is nothing short of amazing, moving, and absolutely inspiring.

Prior to this one, Mike had written two memoirs detailing his journey, but this latest memoir stands apart in that it came out during the pandemic, when the idea of mortality was a very real and very serious concern for so many of us.  In the decade leading up to that time, Mike himself experienced several major health challenges that put his optimistic outlook to the test, including the discovery of a tumor in his spinal cord that required not only risky surgery but also a grueling recovery process, as well as a broken arm resulting from a devastating fall in his kitchen (an unintentional, but in his mind, avoidable, injury that also nearly broke his spirit).  In having to deal with these health challenges on top of his daily co-existence with Parkinson’s, Mike is forced to reassess his optimistic outlook and reflect on the reality of having to face mortality head-on.

As someone with a more cynical bordering on pessimistic outlook on life, I found Mike’s memoir both moving and uplifting, but most important of all, it put some of my own struggles into perspective.  Listening to Mike narrate this book via audio was especially powerful, so I would definitely recommend experiencing his memoir via this route if possible.

Despite the challenges, Mike continues to stay strong and active to the extent that he can be, which is great to see, but most significantly, he continues to remain positive and keep up his sense of humor, which I’m sure is not easy.  I wish him and Tracy and their wonderful family the best of luck!

Review: The Fourth Princess (by Janie Chang)

My Rating: 4 stars

The Fourth Princess is the fourth Janie Chang novel I’ve read and while I liked this one quite a bit, my favorite of hers is still The Porcelain Moon from 2023.  Just like she does in her most recent few novels, Chang takes a little known aspect of Chinese history and presents a compelling, captivating story involving multiple female protagonists, usually one being Chinese and the other not.  For me, this sets up an interesting “East meets West” dynamic where, due to the story being told through two diametrically different perspectives, provides a more nuanced lens through which we can better understand the historical and cultural elements that Chang usually incorporates in her novels.  In this instance, the two protagonists are Liu Lisan, an educated Chinese woman with a mysterious past, and wealthy American heiress Caroline Stanton, who lives with her millionaire husband Thomas at Lennox Manor, a once-grand mansion on an isolated stretch of land in the International Settlement area of 1911 Shanghai.  The paths of these two women cross when Caroline hires Lisan as her secretary to help her navigate the cultural and language differences as she settles into her new life in China.  But soon, both women find themselves caught up in the mysteries of their pasts, which come back to haunt them in unexpected ways.  Heightening the sense of unease for both women are the dark secrets held by the Manor itself, with its outward grandeur masking a crumbling and dilapidated façade where the ghostly presence of its previous occupants continues to linger.  As various secrets come to light and the pasts of both women are slowly unraveled, connections are revealed that not only put both women in danger, but also threaten to upend their lives.

In her Author’s Note, Chang mentions her love of the gothic genre as inspiration for deciding to write a gothic novel of her own, but also one that blends historical elements and aspects of her own Chinese cultural heritage.  As such, in a departure from her previous novels, Chang had to hold back on the “history” aspect and instead lean more into “atmosphere” in order to bring out the “gothic” effect of the story.  In this regard, I feel that Chang succeeded, as she did a good job overall incorporating the gothic trope of the mysterious and haunted old mansion, making Lennox Manor a “character” in itself.  With that said however, having read my fair share of gothic novels in the past (and having studied the genre recently), I couldn’t help feeling that some of the gothic elements here were a bit too heavy-handed and deliberate to the point that some of the descriptions – especially related to the Manor and what the characters experience there -- felt a little out of place in a few spots.  While this did have the effect of ratcheting up the tension, it also came across a bit forced and unnatural.  Also, on a personal level, I would’ve preferred more focus on Lisan’s story line, as I found her backstory more intriguing, but that could be because I’m more of a fan of the historical than the gothic (though given the novel’s title, I have to admit to being a little surprised that Caroline’s story arc seemed to overshadow Lisan’s somewhat).

Minor flaws aside, I definitely enjoyed this one.  Having read Chang’s last four novels, I feel that her writing and storytelling skills continue to get better and better with each book -- though of course, I still prefer her historical novels because I love the way she brings lesser known Chinese history and culture to light.  I can’t wait to see what Chang has in store for us next!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: Kin (by Tayari Jones)

My Rating: 5 stars

Tayari Jones’s latest novel is a beautifully rendered story of two motherless daughters – self-named “cradle friends” -- raised together in the small town of Honeysuckle, Louisiana who, despite growing apart and living entirely contrasting lives as adults, manage to maintain their lifelong friendship and sisterhood truly through thick and thin. 

After her mother’s death at the hands of her father, Vernice (Niecy) was taken in by her Aunt Irene (her mother’s sister) and raised to be a refined young lady who not only ends up attending Spelman College (one of the most elite schools for Black women), but also marries into a powerful and rich family where she finally gets to experience the “motherly love” that she had been yearning for since childhood.  Annie, on the other hand, experiences a completely different fate as she longs to find the mother who abandoned her as a baby, leaving her to be raised by her grandmother.  When she inadvertently stumbles across a potential address for her mother, Annie sets off on a perilous journey that takes her on what is essentially a wild goose chase across the American South, searching for her mother while also experiencing love and friendship in the process.

The story is told through the alternating first-person perspectives of Niecy and Annie, and I have to say that this structure worked really well because as a reader, I felt as though I was experiencing everything alongside both women.  Jones has a wonderful way of writing unforgettable characters whom we can’t help but root for and love, despite their obvious shortcomings, and this was definitely the case with Niecy and Annie.  I love the strong bond between these two characters and the “kinship” they shared despite not being related by blood (there’s a scene late in the book where Niecy refers to Annie as “family” – reading that honestly made me cry).  Jones is a masterful writer who has the unique ability of taking a complex theme and weaving an emotionally rich, nuanced story that balances both humor and heartbreak in a powerful and moving way. With the exception of the ending, which gutted me (it was hard not to cry given how invested I was in these characters), the rest of the story was well-balanced on the emotional front (in terms of being both heartwarming and heartbreaking), while also giving us a realistic view of what it means to be a Black woman living in the South during the 1950s and 60s.

This book is getting a lot of buzz (it was recently chosen for Oprah’s Book Club) and deservedly so, in my opinion.  Definitely prioritize this one if you get a chance to pick it up – it is truly a wonderful read!

 

Received ARC from Knopf via NetGalley.

Review: Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted (by Suleika Jaouad)

My Rating: 5 stars

I had actually received an ARC of Suleika Jaouad’s memoir a couple of months before it was first published back in February 2021, but with the COVID pandemic in full force, plus all the chaos and uncertainty that accompanied the situation at the time, I decided to put off reading this until I felt ready to handle such a heavy read.  Of course, as these things usually go, life and work got the better of me and here I am, only able to get to this one more than 5 years later.  But in a way, things worked out in the end, as just getting to this memoir now meant that I got to listen to it via audiobook, with the author narrating her story first hand, which added a personal element that made the reading experience more poignant and emotional (the audiobook also features music by Suleika’s husband, Jon Batiste, which made this even more memorable).

In her memoir, Suleika recounts her journey battling leukemia, from the moment she first receives the devastating diagnosis on the cusp of her 23^rd birthday, through the nearly 4 years of grueling treatment that she had to undergo, and then her subsequent recovery, including having to learn how to re-enter the world and restart her life anew.  She achieves the latter by embarking on a 100-day road trip where, accompanied by her dog Oscar, she travels across the country to meet several of the people who had written to her when she was in the hospital – a trip that proves critical in helping Suleika come to terms with her own harrowing journey “between the kingdom of the well and the kingdom of the sick.”

Given the subject matter, this was not an easy read by any means, as Suleika provides a brutally honest and candid account of her experience and I will be honest in saying that some of the more explicit descriptions of her illness and treatment were a struggle to get through.  With that said though, I found Suleika’s story not only moving and inspiring, but also poignantly resonant given the various battles with cancer that my own family has endured.  I especially admire Suleika’s resilience and strength in the face of the huge toll – physical, mental, psychological, emotional – that such an illness can take on both the person afflicted as well as the family and friends around them.

As is often the case after I read such moving memoirs as this one, I felt compelled to read up on how Suleika Jaouad is doing currently and was saddened to learn that her leukemia returned in both 2022 and 2024, and she had to get a second bone marrow transplant as well as continue chemotherapy - but at the same time, it’s heartening to see the huge community of family, friends, and fans rallying around her with love and support, helping her get through each harrowing ordeal.  I wish her and her loved ones all the best!

 

Review: My Husband's Wife (by Alice Feeney)

My Rating: 4 stars 

It is not lost on me that we are almost halfway through the month of February and so far, I have only finished 1 book (compared to the 10 books that I read in January, which was definitely a record for me).  Though with that said, I am not actually complaining, as I kind of already knew that my reading life would take a hit this month due to how busy I would be with several birthdays to celebrate (both within my family and among close friends), various Lunar New Year festivities to attend, and of course, watching the Olympics (specifically the figure skating events, since I’ve been a fan of the sport since the 1980s).  So basically, not getting to as many books this month isn’t a bad thing at all, it just means that I will need to do a bit more catching up next month, which is totally fine by me.

One book that I wanted to make sure I got to this month was Alice Feeney’s latest thriller / suspense novel My Husband’s Wife, which actually came out in January.  Feeney has been an “auto read” author for me ever since I read and was blown away by her debut novel Sometimes I Lie – so much so in fact that, without realizing it, I’m now actually a completist of her works (that is, until her next book comes out).  Prior to reading this newest work, I had seen several reviews which said, essentially, that this was Feeney’s best book to date – an assessment which, having read all her books, I can’t really agree with.  Yes, this book was good and I would definitely rank it in the top 5 amongst her works, but I hesitate to use such a superlative as “the best book she’s written” so far. One thing I CAN agree on however is that this book is definitely Feeney’s most intricately plotted to date – though yes, just like with her previous books, there will also be some moments where suspension of disbelief is necessary in order to truly “enjoy” the reading experience.

When I first picked up Feeney’s newest book, it actually did take me quite a while to get into the story.  The first third or so of the book consists of chapters that mostly alternate between the first-person perspectives of the two main female protagonists, Eden Fox and Olivia Bird (“Birdy”) – two characters that I honestly did not like and could not stand (as I mentioned in my review of Feeney’s previous books, she seems to make her characters more and more unlikeable with each book).  In fact, the annoyance was so palpable this time around that I was actually tempted to DNF (which, for me, is a rare occurrence) – but of course, since this is Feeney after all, I pushed through my initial frustrations and started really getting into the story at about the midway point.  That’s also around the time that I realized there was a pattern to the way Feeney ends and starts each chapter (the first sentence of the new chapter is a variation of the last sentence of the previous chapter), which I initially thought was interesting but didn’t fully appreciate its significance until I got to the end of the book and figured out the way it connected seemingly disparate aspects of the story together.  I don’t want to say too much more about this, as I don’t want to give any part of the story away, but I mention this as something worth paying attention to while reading if possible.

In terms of the twists and turns, there were plenty of them this time around, and as expected from Feeney, several of them were brilliantly executed.  With this being the 8^th book of Feeney’s that I’ve read, I’m plenty familiar with her style by now, so I knew better than to take any part of the plot at face value.  Despite being able to figure out a good portion of the ending early on (I’ve learned to read some of the textual clues that Feeney drops throughout the story), I was still quite surprised by some of the “twists” that I definitely didn’t see coming. For me, this is part of the “fun” of reading Feeney’s works – on the one hand, being familiar enough with her style to be able to pick up on certain clues the first time around that other readers new to her books might have missed, while on the other hand, still being surprised by particular elements of the ending and “big reveal.” 

With all that said, for those thinking about picking this one up, especially if it’s your first experience with Feeney’s works, I would suggest diving in with a clear mind and just going along for the ride without trying to dissect things too much.  While I eagerly await Feeney’s next book, I can’t help but wonder what type of twisted, mind-boggling adventure she will have in store for us next.  Hopefully we won’t have to wait long!

 

Review: From Scratch: A Memoir of Love, Sicily, and Finding Home (by Tembi Locke)

My Rating: 5 stars 

I put Tembi Locke’s memoir From Scratch on my TBR several years ago after a friend recommended it to me as one of the most beautifully written memoirs she had ever read.  However the same friend was also adamant that the absolutely best way to experience this book was via audio.  Since, at the time, I had a bit of a fraught relationship with audiobooks, I unsurprisingly put off reading this book at the time.  Now that I’m back into audiobooks, I of course jumped at the opportunity to finally experience Tembi’s memoir and I have to say that I absolutely agree with my friend’s assessment: this is indeed one of the most beautifully written memoirs I’ve ever read, and yes, the best way to experience Tembi’s story is definitely via audio.

Tembi’s memoir is, in essence, a love letter to her late husband Saro, an Italian chef with whom she had a cross-cultural romance for almost two decades until he died from cancer in 2012.  In the face of such a devastating loss, a heartbroken Tembi finds herself navigating widowhood and solo motherhood.  With her young daughter Zoela in tow, Tembi returns to her husband’s hometown of Sicily, where she finds an unlikely ally in her mother-in-law Croce, also a widow who now must endure the additional loss of her only son. In their shared grief over their beloved Saro, Tembi and her mother-in-law find solace in each other’s company -- more significantly for Tembi, she finds healing and nourishment at her mother-in-law’s table through the authentic dishes that Croce cooks for her as well as through the close-knit Sicilian community that embraces her as one of their own. From Scratch chronicles Tembi’s incredible story – at once a deeply romantic love story as well as an ode to the healing power of family, food, and culture in the face of indescribable grief.

In listening to the audiobook, I found Tembi’s narration both powerful and heartfelt.  I cried through the many moments of sadness yet also smiled through tears during the moments of joy.  I also loved the lush descriptions of delicious Italian food and the picturesque Italian countryside, which felt especially authentic and transportive through Tembi’s genuine and emotional narration.

This was a heartbreaking read for sure, but it was also uplifting and inspiring – I ended up falling in love with not just Tembi and Saro and Zoela as well as both of their families, but also with the community in the Sicilian countryside of Aliminusa.  I definitely recommend picking this one up, but have a box of tissues nearby because it will absolutely be needed. 

P.S.: I just found out that Tembi Locke published a follow up to From Scratch in September of last year, a new memoir entitled Someday, Now that chronicles her return to Sicily for one final summer before her daughter goes off to college.  I already downloaded the audiobook and can’t wait to listen!

Review: Sipsworth (by Simon Van Booy)

My Rating: 4 stars

Going into this book, I wasn’t sure what to expect at first.  I mean, I knew the basic outline of the story: an elderly protagonist named Helen returns to her hometown from 60 years abroad after losing the two most important people in her life (her husband and son), wishing only to be alone and, when the time comes, to go quietly.  But everything changes when Helen befriends a mouse that she unexpectedly encounters one night outside her house.  She names the mouse Sipsworth and it is through Helen’s interactions with him that we not only come to learn her backstory, but we also see her start to open up and make connections with others. 

The story, overall, is a simple one – not much fanfare, not much action, and perhaps a bit too mundane in some sections that I couldn’t help wondering whether I would be able to stay engaged as the story slowly unfolded.  But the author, Simon Van Booy, did a good job of keeping my attention through the small revelations about Helen’s background, especially in the second half of the story, as well as with the endearing characters, all of whom I loved.  I must say that I am definitely not a rodent person and with the exception of a certain animated version, just the mere mention of mice and rodents would usually make my skin crawl – but with this story, I didn’t feel any aversion to the mouse protagonist at all.  In fact, I actually found Sipsworth kind of charming (though with that said, this does not change my overall “run the other way” mentality if I encounter a rodent in real life).

One of the things I appreciate most about this story is the way it was able to balance being quietly moving, yet also subtly humorous – there were moments of sadness but also moments of levity that put a smile on my face (and sometimes made me laugh out loud).

I definitely enjoyed this delightful little story that was just the right amount of lighthearted warmth and humor while also being thoughtful and profound.  A lovely read and also a welcome departure from the heavy stuff I’ve been reading as of late.

Review: Being Henry: The Fonz...and Beyond (by Henry Winkler)

My Rating: 4 stars 

As I continue my audiobook journey this year, I’ve been very selective in terms of choosing which memoirs (especially celebrity memoirs) to read, as there are way too many of them out there and quite a few of them don’t interest me in the slightest.  I’ve had Henry Winkler’s memoir on my TBR for quite some time though, as it was recommended to me by a few book friends who suggested listening to the audio version narrated by Henry himself.  It makes sense then, that when I rekindled my relationship with audiobooks at the end of last year, this book was one of several on my audio shortlist that I wanted to make sure I prioritized.  And yes, this memoir turned out to be every bit as delightful and funny as expected!  I can definitely see why Henry’s memoir won the Goodreads Choice Best Humor award back in 2023 when the book first came out, as I found myself chuckling at certain moments, but best of all was hearing Henry himself laughing during those same moments.

Prior to reading his memoir, I had no idea how charming and funny Henry could be, as I was born in the late 1970s so Happy Days was kind of before my time -- though I was familiar with the show, as I watched it through reruns in syndication in the late 80s/early 90s, I of course wasn’t around when the show was at its peak in the mid-70s, so I never really “followed” Henry’s career as I did other sitcom stars.  Like many others, I only knew Henry as “The Fonz” so reading his memoir and learning about his life and career beyond that one iconic role has been an especially insightful experience.  It was interesting to hear about Henry’s long-time concern about being typecasted and the impact that had on him being able to find acting work, which led to him exploring other career paths such as producing, directing, and even becoming a children’s book author (now I want to check out his Hank Zipser books, as they sound so delightful).  With Henry’s memoir, the most nostalgic moment for me was hearing him talk about his experience producing one of my favorite TV shows, MacGyver (the Richard Dean Anderson version from the 1980s/1990s), which, though I knew back then that he was an executive producer on the show, I completely forgot about it until he mentioned it (as much as I miss that show, I have no interest in watching the recent reboot of the series).

In terms of Henry’s personal life, I was surprised to hear how poorly he was treated by his parents and sibling and the lifelong strained relationship he had with them as a result (when his parents died, he didn’t even want to go to their funerals at first, which says a lot about how toxic the relationship was).  As heartbreaking as it was to read about this struggle (which, I will be honest, those of us who have strained relationships with our own parents can probably relate to), I was glad to hear that, in the end, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise because it made him vow to not only be a different kind of parent to his own children, but also as a person, actively strive to be the opposite of what his parents were (now I understand why he is regarded as the nicest man in Hollywood and is so beloved and respected in the industry).  My favorite part of Henry’s memoir is when he talks about his relationship with his wife Stacey, to whom he has been married 47 years (at the time that this memoir was written) – given how the entertainment industry works, not only is it rare to see such a long and loving marriage, it’s also wonderful to see how much Henry adores and respects his wife.  It was such a treat to get to hear Stacey narrate parts of the audiobook alongside Henry and give her own perspective on things – I actually ended up adoring Stacey as well and can definitely see why she is such a perfect match for Henry.

I really enjoyed this memoir and appreciated learning so much about Henry Winkler – specifically about his personal struggles and, more significantly, how different he is from the personas he portrays on screen.  If I wasn’t a fan of his before, I certainly am one now!

Review: The Astral Library (by Kate Quinn)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

Kate Quinn is on one of the authors on my “auto-read” list whose works I will definitely read regardless of what she writes.  Also, while I’m not a completist of her works (not yet at least), I’ve loved each of her historical fiction books that I’ve read so far (in addition to Quinn’s wonderful storytelling skills, it also helps that historical fiction happens to be my favorite genre).  Given all the above, I have to admit that I was a bit thrown for a loop when I heard that Quinn’s newest book would be a fantasy novel – a genre that I’m not keen on and don’t read much of (not because there is anything wrong with the genre, but because my overly practical brain doesn’t know how to process fantastical stories and worlds).  Hence, whenever I read fantasy books, I’m never able to fully “get into” them, regardless of how amazingly good the worldbuilding (or writing) is. To reiterate, this is very much a “me” issue rather than a genre or book issue.

I say all this because, unsurprisingly, I did end up struggling with a few aspects of this book, though very little of it was due to the actual writing or the storytelling, both of which were excellent.  As a lifelong book lover, I of course love the idea of being able to live inside my favorite book and I’ve honestly lost count of how many times I’ve imagined doing so – which is perhaps why the “book-traveling” portions of this novel were the most engaging for me.  I was so curious to see how this unique and brilliant premise would be executed and let me tell you, Quinn definitely did not disappoint in this area.  From the costumes to the period / historical details to the familiar characters from so many beloved classics, each of those worlds truly did come alive for me, which I loved.  The downside to this was that the amount of time spent in each world was way too short.  When I first found out that the story’s characters would be traveling to the worlds of some of my favorite novels, I was anticipating an immersive experience -- while we did get a bit of that with some books, most were short stints with the characters hopping in and out quickly (or the “world” is mentioned kind of in passing but we don’t really get to “experience” it).  These sections, while short-lived, were absolutely enjoyable.

With that said, the biggest struggle for me with this book was the main character, Alix Watson.  Unfortunately, Alix is exactly the type of female protagonist that I absolutely cannot stand – the “adult acting like a petulant teenager” type who is whiny and impulsive with an “act first, think later” mentality that of course leads her into one unnecessarily compromising situation after another, then afterwards berates herself for behaving like an idiot.  This is exacerbated by a large portion of the story focusing on Alix’s inner monologue where she repeatedly catalogues her every thought and feeling about how crappy her life circumstances were – to the point that her sob story started sounding like a broken record that annoyingly kept inserting itself and overshadowing the “fun” parts of the story.  Normally, these types of characters would be huge turn-offs for me in terms of staying with the story (I rarely ever DNF, but I do “heavily skim” when circumstances call for it), but in this instance, I stuck it out (I didn’t even do “light skimming,” lol) because this is Kate Quinn after all and the other aspects of the story were compelling enough to keep me invested.

Overall, this was my least favorite Kate Quinn novel and the first one that I rated less than 4 stars.  Nonetheless, I will continue to read anything Quinn writes and look forward to her next book (though admittedly, part of me hopes the next one will go back to being historical fiction).

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.