Review: American Fantasy (by Emma Straub)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I’ve actually had a copy of Emma Straub’s latest release since it came out in April, but I really wanted to listen to the audio version narrated by the fantastic Marin Ireland, so I waited until my library hold came through this weekend to read this.  I’m actually glad I did because I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed this as much otherwise, seeing that I was never really into boy bands growing up (though I was surely familiar enough with them due to one of my childhood friends being obsessed with her favorite band NKOTB back in the day).  With that said, I do understand what diehard fandom looks like, since I’ve worshipped my fair share of entertainers over the years (and admittedly there are a few celebrities whose careers I still closely follow) – but even so, in the event of a celebrity meet-and-greet, I’ve never been the “screaming fan” type, preferring instead to hang back and bask in the feelings of awe and wonder at being in the presence of someone I admire.  It’s no wonder, then, that the part of the story I related to most is the idea that how we approach fandom can change in complex ways as we grow older.  Despite being obsessed with the 90s boyband Boy Talk when she was a teenager, the story’s main protagonist Annie, now a woman in her fifties, can’t help but feel like “a fish out of water” on this cruise where she gets to be in close proximity to all 5 members of the band for 4 days.  The main reason for her unease is the simple fact of her tastes having matured and so she is no longer the fan that she once was.  In fact, she only agreed to go on the cruise to appease her sister Katherine (still a die-hard fan of the band) who originally signed them up but had to pull out last minute due to an injury.  The constant thought that runs through Annie’s mind is “What am I doing here?” – yet as she becomes more immersed in the environment around her, the long-buried feelings of nostalgia slowly re-emerge, culminating in the unexpected happiness of being able to reconnect with the youthful part of herself, even if only briefly. 

Through a structure that alternates between the perspectives of Annie (a guest on the cruise ship), Sarah (who works for the company organizing the cruise), and Keith (one of the boyband members), we get to see the same event sometimes experienced from different viewpoints, which I found interesting. Having come off a cruise myself last year (family vacation), I was able to appreciate the various details that Straub included in the story – the familiarity of the environment (minus the boy band of course) made the story feel particularly atmospheric for me.

Overall, this was a fun, light read that I found entertaining and enjoyable (and I was able to finish quickly, which is always a plus when I already have an insanely long TBR to get through).  Even though this is the first Straub book I’ve read, it certainly won’t be the last, as I have several of her backlist titles on my TBR that I’m hoping to get to at some point.  If you’re a fan of boy bands or cruises (or perhaps both?), or just want a feel-good read that recalls the nostalgic feelings of youth, I definitely recommend picking this one up.

Review: Lake Effect (by Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney)

My Rating: 3 stars

My first exposure to Cynthia D’Aprix Sweeney’s work was through her second book Good Company, which I remember reading and finding relatively entertaining, but disliking the characters quite a bit.  With her newest work, Lake Effect, Sweeney once again populates the book with unlikeable characters who pretty much spend the entire story completely oblivious to the myriad ways in which their actions and behavior hurt one another. 

The dynamics of the two families at the center of the story – the Larkins and the Finnegans – are complicated at best, dysfunctional at worst, and all the characters seem to be stuck in a frustrating loop of resentment, anger, and regret that honestly became exhausting to read.  To be clear, I have nothing against dysfunctional families, as I come from one myself, but the way that Sweeney crammed every annoying dysfunction imaginable into these two families with seemingly no redeeming qualities to balance things out made it truly difficult to feel sympathy for any of the characters.  The men all behaved like jerks, the women were mostly caricatures on opposite ends of the spectrum (i.e.: the fanatically religious yet morally hypocritical housewife versus the radically apathetic, sexually promiscuous and morally corrupt “modern” woman), and the teenaged children all continue to behave childishly even into adulthood.  I’m the type of reader who needs to have at least one character to root for, so in this case, not having a single character that I could feel even an ounce of sympathy for made this a bit of an unpleasant read for me. I read some reviews that posited perhaps Sweeney was being satiric with her portrayal of some of these characters and maybe it is the case that she was poking fun at the ridiculous behavior of privileged suburbanites, but I honestly didn’t see the humor in any of these characters’ actions or behaviors (or, perhaps, this was just a case of me not “getting” the joke). 

With all that said, this wasn’t an entirely disagreeable reading experience in that there were some contentious moments where the fallout from the “scandal” (the main driving force of the entire story) came to a head, which did make for some entertaining reading.  Overall though, I would say that this book wasn’t really to my taste (or perhaps I’m just tired of the “privileged people behaving badly” trope that seems to make its way into so many books nowadays) and if this hadn’t been a book club selection, I probably would not have picked it up.  While I don’t regret reading this one, the fact that I wasn’t keen on both of the books I’ve read by this author is probably a sign that her works don’t jive with my tastes, so I should think twice before picking up another of her books.

 

Review: Grown Women (by Sarai Johnson)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

Sarai Johnson’s debut Grown Women is a book club read and one that is right up my alley, since I have a particular fondness for multi-generational family stories with strong women at the center.  The story revolves around four generations of Black women – Evelyn, Charlotte, Corinna, and Camille – and their complex relationships with each other as they contend with their roles as mothers and daughters amidst the underlying tension created by past trauma.  The conflicts between Evelyn, Charlotte, and Corinna run especially deep, nearly to the point of no return – that is, until Camille enters their lives.  This bright and beautiful girl triggers a long overdue reconciliation between these three women, who decide to collectively raise Camille and in so doing, give themselves the chance to put aside past hurts and “do better” by each other. Through a narrative that alternates between the perspectives of these four women who are determined not to let the pain of the past get in the way of caring for those they love, Johnson presents a poignant story of familial love, healing, and the courage to overcome past hurts to forge one’s own path to happiness.

Overall, this book is well-written – I especially appreciated its in-depth, realistic portrayal of the four women at the heart of the story, as it really helped me as a reader get to know these characters. With that said however, the story’s non-linear structure didn’t entirely work for me, as there was too much jumping back and forth, not just between characters, but also between time periods.  As I was reading, I found it difficult at times to distinguish between the characters’ voices, leading to confusion that required me to flip back through the previous pages to see who was speaking.  Of course, this was even less convenient to do via audio, with the constant “stop-and-go” making the listening experience much longer than it needed to be.  Though to be honest, structure aside, the story itself was detail-heavy and meandered a little in parts, which made the overall read/listen feel kind of tedious.  While the audio version was quite good (the audiobook narrator Karen Chilton did a great job), I found myself having to switch back and forth between the audio and print versions because the pacing was way too slow and I was getting impatient.

While I’m unsure if I would have picked this one up if it hadn’t been a book club pick, I’m glad that I got the chance to read this, as I found the way that Johnson explores mother/daughter relationships within the context of race and class especially illuminating.  I would definitely be interested in reading more by this author in the future.

 

Review: You Are Here (by David Nicholls)

My Rating: 3 stars

I had decided to pick up David Nicholls’s You Are Here because so many of my book friends loved it, so when my audiobook hold finally came through, I was excited to finally read this, as there were so many aspects of it that seemed to be right up my alley:  smart and funny protagonists, witty banter, heartwarming humor, characters that are realistically written, a love story rather than pure romance, etc.  I liked all the characters well enough, especially Marnie and Michael, who were relatable and realistic, and as a romance novel, I appreciated the not-as-common premise where two middle-aged protagonists unexpectedly get a second chance at finding love while on a 10-day hike through England.  With so many things going for it, I was truly expecting to fall head-over-heels in love with the story like all my friends did. 

Yet for some reason, I found it difficult to get into this one.  Perhaps it was the slow start to the story, as Nicholls does take quite a bit of time to set things up, and also the structure, where each (short) chapter hopped back and forth between Marnie’s and Michael’s perspectives in seemingly quick succession, which felt a bit dizzying and also made it hard to get to know each of the characters deeply.  It also perhaps wasn’t a good idea to listen to this one on audio, especially at the speed that I’m usually most comfortable with (1.25x).  While the two narrators were lively and entertaining, it was hard to understand what they were saying at times due to the accents not translating well at higher speeds – whenever this happened, I would pause the audio and locate the same spot in the book so I could see what I missed.  This repeated “stop-and-go” got a bit tiresome after a while, not to mention it took me out of the story so often that it started to negatively impact my reading experience.  Specifically, this became a somewhat tedious read which, overall, made me enjoy it much less than I initially anticipated.  About halfway through the audio, I decided to switch over to the e-book version and while that worked a lot better for me, as I was able to read the book through without stopping, it was, unfortunately, a bit too late by then. 

I think the lesson learned here for me is to choose carefully when deciding which books to listen to on audio versus which ones to read in print, and definitely to do more research before diving in, since the impact to the reading experience can be quite significant.

I may try this again at some point down the road, as my book friends don’t usually steer me wrong and I think in this case, I just picked the wrong medium with which to experience this one. If I do end up taking another stab at this, definitely will go with the print version.

Received ARC from Harper via NetGalley.

Review: Gone Girl (by Gillian Flynn)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I’ll just say it right off the bat:  my thoughts about this book are of the “outlier” variety so if that’s going to be a problem, my suggestion would be to stop reading this review right here.

Okay, for those still with me, here it goes…. 

First off, I decided to finally pick this book up not because I really wanted to read it, but rather, to satisfy my curiosity. Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl came out back in 2012 and in the 14 years since then, I’ve heard it referred to over and over again, in various contexts, year after year, pretty much endlessly:  this is the book that started the psychological suspense craze, the book that made the whole “twist” phenomenon a household name, the book that made having the word “girl” in the title a surefire hit, the book that single-handedly launched the “cool girl” trend, etc. etc.  Having read my fair share of psychological thrillers / suspense novels over the years (novels which, supposedly, all owe a debt to Gone Girl in some way, shape, or form if they were published after 2012 – at least that’s what I was made to believe), I wanted to finally read this “mother of psychological suspense novels” to, yes, see what all the hype was about.

From a craft standpoint – plot, character, structure, pacing, etc.—this book is indeed brilliantly written (which, I have to make clear, is very different from being “well”-written).  I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that this book, the way it is written, can be considered a masterclass on how to write compelling, page-turning psychological suspense, especially in the way that Flynn goes deep into the twisted minds of two truly deranged individuals and picks apart, in detail, what spurs their every thought, feeling, and action. Sure, we may not agree with the way these characters behave throughout the story (though that’s putting it mildly – I was actually disgusted by both main characters for the entire read), but we do come to an understanding of WHY they behave that way.  To be honest, it wasn’t hard to tell from the get go that Nick and Amy were not good people and their toxic relationship was a train wreck waiting to happen – yet by the same token, it was also hard to look away when, ultimately, the train slammed into the wall and created a grotesque mess that seemed impossible to clean up (and yes, despite how miserable I knew the experience would be, I couldn’t help reading on to see if and/or how they clean up the mess).

With all that said however, the main reason why this book didn’t work for me was because I hated EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER.  As other reviewers have pointed out, the story is dark and twisty, with so much violence, abuse, sex, gratuitous cursing, etc. – which, yes, can be a turn off, but for me, the dealbreaker was actually the characters and the horrible, despicable way they behave throughout the entire story.  The characters don’t make any attempt to change, there is no redemption arc, no comeuppance for bad behavior, no remorse or repentance, no repercussions for criminal acts – for pretty much the entirety of the 400+ pages (20+ hours on audio), these characters remain both pretentiously narcissistic and overwhelmingly self-absorbed, to the point that, throughout the entire time I was reading, I felt like there was not a single moment where any of the characters deserved even an ounce of sympathy from me. 

So basically, my overall opinion of this book is that it is very much overrated.  Now, would my opinion of this book be different if I had read this when it first came out 14 years ago?  Perhaps yes and perhaps no.  But the truth of the matter is that, over the past 14 years, I’ve read enough psychological thrillers with “twists” ranging from the jaw-dropping to the “you call that a twist?” variety that, in a way, I’ve pretty much seen it all, at least that’s what it feels like.  To this point, I found the twist in this book to be a bit anticlimactic in the sense that by the time I got to the end of part 1, I already figured out what was going to happen.

One last but very important point is that I chose to listen to this via audio, even though I had a paperback copy available on my shelf.  I’m glad I did so because the audio format proved to be the best way to take in this book.   Of course, the bonus content in the audio book version – including a special chapter written from the perspective of Amy as a child that provides insight into her upbringing and relationship with her parents – is a definite perk, but the real draw is the fantastic performance from the audiobook’s two narrators, Kirby Heyborne and (one of my personal favorites) Julia Whelan.  For me, it is precisely because of the outstanding job by both narrators that I ended up rating this 3.5 stars – if I had just read the book and didn’t listen to the audio version, I seriously would’ve rated this 2 stars or lower.

Review: Song For Another Home (by Bora Lee Reed)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

This is an interesting story about a historical time period that doesn’t often get written about – the Korean War and the subsequent division of the country into North and South Korea. Told from two alternating points of view, the story revolves around a family torn apart by war and the resilience that brings them together.

Oksoon is a teenage girl living in Pyeongyang who sets off with her mother and second brother Changho to look for her father and older brother in the south, where they had gone to look for opportunities but never returned.  On their journey, they encounter numerous hardships, but manage to find ways to survive amidst the devastation of war, especially when they finally reach the southern city of Seoul where they meet others who are also trying to do the best they can given the circumstances.  Together, they form a “found family” of sorts, combining efforts as well as resources to make their situation more tenable.

Further south, in the mountainous region of Jinju, Oksoon’s cousin Junho finds refuge at an orphanage where he uses his limited understanding of English to write letters to American benefactors in the hopes of helping the orphanage secure funds to keep its doors open.  When the orphanage director brings her niece Miss Kim to live with them, the mysterious circumstances of her situation alter Junho’s perspective in ways that threaten to upend the safety of the refuge that he worked so hard to attain.

Overall, I have mixed feelings toward this book.  On the one hand, I appreciate the author, Bora Lee Reed’s efforts to shed light on a period of history that is often forgotten about, outside of Asia especially.  Significantly, Reed draws on her own family history as inspiration for the story, which lends an authenticity and familiarity to the work that sets it apart from other historical fiction novels.  With that said however, I felt that the story lacked emotional depth, which was of course surprising given the author’s personal connection to the subject matter. To me, the writing felt emotionally distant to the point that I found it difficult to become invested in the characters enough to care about things that happen.  There was also a lot of “telling” of what the various characters do as well as some descriptions of surroundings that seemed irrelevant to what was going on at the time.  While it wasn’t overwhelming to the point of bogging down the entire story, it did slow things down a little.

As a debut novel, I would say that this was a good first effort from Reed, though it could’ve benefited from much more editing, mostly to tighten the writing.  Also, speaking from the perspective of someone who has read a lot of historical fiction (it IS my favorite genre after all), I found the historical aspect to be less atmospheric and immersive than I would’ve expected, perhaps because of the lack of emotional depth as mentioned earlier.  Speaking of which, when compared to other novels that also cover the topic of the Korean War – such as Lisa See’s The Island of Sea Women and, more recently, Eve J. Chung’s The Young Will Remember, both of which were emotionally poignant stories that continued to stay with me long after I finished reading them – this one unfortunately falls a bit flat.  That said, I’m glad I read it and would still recommend it for the historical insight it provides.

Received ARC from 37 Ink via NetGalley.

Review: Goodbye Chinatown (by Kit Fan)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As a Hong Kong native, I’m always on the lookout for books about or set in the city of my birth, especially ones that are truly HK-focused – meaning written by authors actually born in or based in HK and who are familiar with the city’s culture, history, places, people, etc.  Therefore, going into Kit Fan’s second novel Goodbye Chinatown, I should’ve been excited, but instead, I was a bit apprehensive, as I had read his debut novel Diamond Hill back in 2021 and despite that book’s authentic portrayal of HK, I did not like the writing overall and struggled to get through it (and unsurprisingly, I ended up rating that one only 2 stars).  I didn’t know if this second novel would go down the same disappointing path as Fan’s previous one, so I picked this one up with some hesitation, though I’m happy to report that this one ended up being a very different book, both in style and tone, and surprised me in a good way.

This time around, Fan sets his story primarily in the UK (London, specifically), with Hong Kong serving as a secondary setting – only in the background during the first half of the book and then at the forefront during the second half – with the family at the center of the story being of Cantonese descent and also having the surname Fan.  After the Tiananmen Square Massacre in 1989, Mr. and Mrs. Fan decided to leave Hong Kong with their 10-year-old daughter Amber in tow, eventually settling in London’s Chinatown and opening a Chinese restaurant called The Golden Palace.  Flash forward 12 years, The Golden Palace is no more, as it was bought out (ironically) by Mainland Chinese investors several years ago, but young Amber, who is now an Oxford-educated chef, decides to open a Chinese fusion restaurant she names Luna. Meanwhile, Amber’s parents make the decision to return to their home city of Hong Kong, taking their 4-year-old grandson Bobby with them.  Left behind to run her new restaurant, Amber channels her loneliness into the complex dishes that she makes and soon, Luna becomes the talk of the town and goes on to earn a Michelin star after a mysterious woman named Celeste pays a visit and provides Amber with some much-needed advice and support. 

Set primarily after the return of Hong Kong to China, with the shadow of “the June 4^th Incident” (HK people’s name for the Tiananmen Massacre) lingering constantly in the background, the story, at its core, is about an immigrant family’s struggle to reconcile the two disparate cultures that shape their lives and ultimately, their identities.  Amber is the main focus in much of the story, as we track the various changes that occur in her life against the backdrop of major world events such as the aftermath of the 1997 HK handover, 9/11, the Asian financial crisis in 2008, the HK student protests and umbrella movement in 2019, and finally, the onset of Covid in 2020.

I was around Amber’s age when Tiananmen occurred and I remember the nearly identical scene in the book occurring in my own household -- the chaos unfolding on TV and my parents watching with mouths open and tears streaming down their faces; celebrities and ordinary citizens alike, dressed in black, their faces grim, some crying, all holding candles and singing solemn, heart-wrenching ballads in televised vigils; and of course, in the aftermath of such a tragic event, the pervasive fear throughout Hong Kong that what happened in Tiananmen could happen to them too once the city is returned to China – a fear that prompted many of Hong Kong’s 7 million+ citizens to frantically look into the fastest ways to get themselves and their families out of the city before 1997 came along.  As a Hong Konger who grew up in the shadow of Tiananmen, I absolutely related to so many aspects of this story – in particular, this passage from the story summed up perfectly my own memories of how the event impacted my family and so many others at the time: “Sitting in the dark, [Amber] remembered the tens of thousands of candles of the televised vigils in the aftermath of Tiananmen, where everyone had worn black and sung heart-breaking songs about heroes—how bodies became mountains and how the colour of blood turned into the colour of a nation’s flag. Grief consumed images at a faster rate. Her parents had reassured Amber that the family had gone out onto the streets in solidarity. They’d choked back tears as they sang at the top of their lungs, mourning for the students and feeling proud and scared of a single man stopping a column of tanks, standing up for the freedom and democracy they still held dear. Among an ocean of like-minded citizens, they stood there, witnessing and being witnessed. Those were times when grief became an engine of fear, when parental responsibility meant emigration.”

Indeed, there were many beautiful passages such as the above in this book, but I especially loved the descriptions of the HK foods and dishes, many of which were familiar to me, as well as Amber’s interesting fusion take on this cuisine (I especially want to try the pineapple bun burger, which there is a recipe for in the book).  The food and historical elements aside though, the complexity of Amber’s family dynamics as well as her personal struggle with identity and meaning also resonated with me, with that said, I do wish that the family relationship part was explored a little more, as I felt that there was a certain lack of emotional depth to the story overall.

In terms of the main issue I had with this book (hence the 3.5 star rating), I echoed all the other reviewers’ complaint that the ending was too abrupt, to the point that the story felt incomplete.  I honestly felt shocked and disappointed when I reached what I thought would be the climax of the story, only to turn the page and see the Acknowledgements section.  I initially thought that perhaps I turned the pages too quickly and maybe missed a page or two (or three), but nope, I had truly reached the end of the book -- given how invested I was in the story, the poorly executed ending hit especially hard for me.  Also, the last segment of the book (the chapters that take place in 2020) felt kind of rushed, which also contributed to why I couldn’t bring myself to rate this higher. 

Overall, I definitely enjoyed this novel much more than Fan’s debut, but the structure issues unfortunately impacted my reading experience more than I would have liked.  Hopefully Fan’s next novel will see improvement with this.

Received ARC from World Editions via NetGalley.

Review: Tata (by Valerie Perrin, translated by Hildegarde Serle)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

When I first read the premise for Valerie Perrin’s latest novel Tata, I was greatly intrigued.  Agnes Dugain receives a phone call from the police informing her that her paternal aunt Colette has died.  This news puzzles Agnes because, well, her aunt Colette had already died 3 years ago and was buried in a cemetery in the French city of Gueugnon.  When Agnes goes to identify the body, she is shocked to discover that the woman who just died truly is Colette -- did her aunt die twice then?  Or is someone else buried in Colette’s grave?  How did this happen?  And most importantly, why?  This mystery of Colette’s “second death” forms the central premise of a compelling and complicated story – one that weaves back and forth between past and present as well via multiple alternating perspectives, including a suitcase full of audio cassettes that Colette left behind for her niece.  Over the course of investigating the mysterious circumstances surrounding her aunt’s death, Agnes also untangles a complex web of revelations that ultimately point her toward some profound truths about not just herself, but also the family she thought she knew. 

I have serious mixed feelings toward this novel.  On the one hand, I was absolutely riveted by Colette’s story – I found the mystery surrounding her two deaths interesting and was completely invested in getting to the truth of what happened and why.  I also liked many of the characters in Colette’s story arc, including Colette herself, which added to my interest in the story.

Unfortunately, however, the execution of the story was problematic and did not work for me, which of course impacted my reading experience.  Specifically, the way the story was told felt like it was all over the place, as it kept jumping around between various seemingly unrelated threads that were interspersed, literally, throughout Colette’s story.  For example, Agnes would go from talking about Colette to suddenly jumping to her own ill-fated love story with her ex-husband Pierre, recounting how they met, the whirlwind relationship they had, how it all fell apart when he cheated on her, and how even though they are divorced, she still pines for him, etc.  Honestly, I could care less about Agnes’s love life or her yearning for her jerk of a husband, and I also didn’t see how that relationship had anything to do with the main thread of the story, so I was kind of annoyed that it kept getting brought up.  As if that weren’t enough though, there were also entire sections that were seemingly dedicated to the backstories of each of Agnes’s childhood friends, with whom she is reunited when she returns to Gueugnon to investigate her aunt’s death.  While some of those friends’ backstories covered important topics, none of them were relevant to Colette’s story as far as I could see.

Basically, it felt to me that Colette’s story kept getting interrupted every couple pages with different tangents – some relevant, some not – so that, at multiple points throughout, the story started not making sense anymore, as all the jumping around between threads made the story less cohesive and harder to follow.  This brings me to the other issue I had with the book: at 600+ pages, it was WAY TOO LONG!  The writing was also extremely choppy, with single word sentences as well as a lot of sentences that seemed to be missing words here and there – not to mention some very long run-on sentences that went on for paragraphs -- to the point that, at times, I felt like I was reading pages of incoherent text.  This of course made for a very tedious read – though with that said, since the version of the book I read was an unedited ARC, I will give the author and translator the benefit of the doubt here in terms of all the issues with the writing.

Overall, this was a good story with a compelling premise that had the potential to be great if only it had been more tightly written and edited.  Colette’s story was definitely fascinating and the revelations at the end, when the connections between some of the threads were brought to light, seriously made my jaw drop – it’s just too bad that it took so much meandering to get there.

Received ARC from Europa Editions via NetGalley.

Review: Ordinary Time: Lessons Learned While Staying Put (by Annie B. Jones)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

This was a book club read for me and while I enjoyed it quite a bit, I found that I didn’t relate to it as much as I thought I would.  Annie B. Jones is a bookstore owner in the small town of Thomasville, Georgia and in this memoir-in-essays, she recounts the trials and tribulations of a quiet, “ordinary” existence – or “staying put” as per the book’s subtitle.  As a “stayer” myself, the overall theme that Jones writes about -- continuing to stay in the town where we grew up and living an ordinary life instead of venturing off on our own in pursuit of some grand dream – definitely resonated with me, though what that actually looks like in practice can be very different for each person. 

In her book, Jones reflects upon various aspects of her small-town life, which revolves largely around her family (her husband Jordan and their dog Sam Malone), her bookstore (an indie called The Bookshelf), a podcast (From the Front Porch), writing, and of course, books (lots of them).  While some people might see this as a “boring” existence, Jones offers a different view by shining a light on the positive aspects of living a quiet life staying put, though without glossing over the difficult aspects of said life.  She talks about instances of finding excitement in the mundane (i.e. living in a house with a pool) and not being afraid to show your vulnerabilities when the situation warrants it (i.e. trying her hand at line dancing despite not really knowing how to), but what I appreciated most was the sincerity of Jones’s conviction in “staying put” as a choice rather than something forced upon her due to circumstance.  Indeed, the uplifting tone made this an especially great listen on audio, which was the version I chose, and it truly felt like listening to a friend recap her day.

With all that said, of course there were aspects of Jones’s story that I related to more than others.  The sections where she talks about books and how they’ve influenced her life, for example, felt relevant to my own relationship to books, which made those chapters a joy to read. I also found relevance in the way she described her quiet, introverted personality, as I would also rather spend any free time I have reading at home rather than hanging out with other people. The sections about religion and faith, however, were less interesting to me, and I honestly ended up skimming those parts so I could get through those chapters faster.

Overall, I found this to be a pleasant read, though perhaps not particularly insightful or memorable, probably because so many aspects of my life are different from hers and those differences outweighed any similarities.  Either way, I’m still glad to have read this one and look forward to discussing it in book club.

Review: Never Grow Up (by Jackie Chan, with Zhu Mo)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I decided to pick up Jackie Chan’s memoir not because I’m a fan (in fact, quite the opposite – he’s actually one of my least favorite celebrities nowadays), but because of nostalgia, as Jackie was a big name in the HK entertainment industry during its heyday in the ‘80s and early ‘90s, when the industry was flourishing.  Back then, the HK entertainment industry was known as “the Hollywood of the East” and rightfully so given the popularity of its stars, who were known all over Asia (and some internationally as well).  As someone who was born in Hong Kong, I’ve always had great affinity for my birth city, which is why it probably won’t come as a surprise that I’ve been following all things HK, especially its entertainment industry, pretty much my entire life.  As such, having grown up on a steady diet of HK movies, TV series, music, books, etc., I’ve become so familiar with the industry that I actually know it better than the “real” Hollywood (significant because I live in Los Angeles, so Hollywood is, basically, in my backyard).  Having devoted so much time and energy to following the industry for decades, I’ve unfortunately also witnessed its deterioration over the years (the past 2 decades especially). Not only that – there’s also the fact that many of the HK celebrities I grew up watching are either retired, less active in the industry, or in some cases, no longer with us (each time I hear about the passing of a HK celebrity, my heart breaks more than a little).  Given these circumstances, it’s understandable then why I would choose to spend time reading a book that 1) is “written” by a HK celebrity that I’m honestly not too fond of, and 2) tells me nothing that I didn’t already know (actually, I probably know more than what Jackie chose to share in his memoir, LOL).

Overall, I would have to say that the experience of reading (or, more accurately, listening, since I went with the audio book version) Jackie’s memoir was enjoyable, primarily because of the nostalgia factor, as he recounts many stories from those “golden years” of the industry that I remember fondly as well.  Of course, given Jackie’s stature as the “big brother” of the HK entertainment industry, he has worked with countless HK celebrities over the years, many of whom get “name-checked” in this memoir (which, to be honest, was my favorite part of the book, as I’m a fan of some of those other celebrities).

One thing that did surprise me about this memoir though is how candidly Jackie talked about some of the scandals as well as the less savory aspects of his personal life, especially in light of the fact that Chinese celebrities (specifically, those who grew up in Asia) are notoriously reticent when it comes to their personal lives. HK celebrities – the more famous ones in particular -- are big on maintaining their privacy and are extremely skilled at playing what I call “verbal tai-chi” with reporters (“verbal tai-chi” essentially means answering questions in a way that doesn’t really reveal anything and deflecting questions without people realizing they are doing it).  This is actually partly why gossip rags are so overwhelmingly popular in HK, since they go to great lengths to dig up the information that the celebrity doesn’t want to reveal.  In Jackie’s case, there are quite a few negative things that he is “known for” in HK (i.e. his carelessness with money, being neglectful toward his son, constantly cheating on his wife, etc. – and I’m only scratching the surface here).  Jackie actually addresses some of these things in his memoir, which I found surprising – though on second thought, some things were spun in a more positive light than how they actually played out (especially his relationships with his wife, retired actress Joan Lin, and son Jaycee – both of which are more strained than he lets on his memoir).

With all that said, one thing I was super curious about (and admittedly one of the reasons why I wanted to read this memoir) was to see if Jackie was going to mention anything about the big scandal that essentially “destroyed” his career and reputation in HK (his 1999 affair with actress Elaine Ng and the daughter from that affair, Etta, whom to this day, he still refuses to acknowledge).  Spoiler alert (well, not really) -- he DOES mention it, but in a roundabout, “blink and you’ll miss it” way – there is a short section where he mentions the “serious mistake” he made in 1999 that “resulted in a love child,” but then goes on to talk about the “media frenzy” that ensued and the impact it had on himself and his family (specifically, Joan and Jaycee) – in essence, he glosses over the situation and his own behavior and instead focuses on how forgiving Joan was towards him.  I will be honest in saying I was disappointed with the way he “kind of did / kind of didn’t” mention it, as I felt this was a missed opportunity to rectify things and salvage some of the respect that was lost (for the record, it was actually this scandal and the horrible way he handled things afterwards that made me lose all respect for him, which is why I said at the beginning of this review that he is one of my least favorite celebrities nowadays), but then again, it IS his memoir so he has the prerogative to write whatever he wants, how he wants.

While I’m glad I read this memoir, I realize that I’m actually not the audience for it.  To me, it seems that Jackie wrote this memoir more for a Western audience that might not know as much about him as those of us from his home town do – or perhaps he wrote it for his fans who probably know everything but love him anyway (which is perfectly fine – to each their own).  All in all, this was an enjoyable, if not particularly insightful, read.

Review: The Fine Art of Lying (by Alexandra Andrews)

My Rating: 3 stars

The Fine Art of Lying is Alexandra Andrews’s highly anticipated sophomore novel, coming 5 years after her debut Who is Maud Dixon? (which I have not yet read).  I decided to pick this one up due to it being a book club pick and having just finished it literally this morning, I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it.  While the writing flowed well and this was a relatively quick, easy read, I did struggle somewhat with certain aspects of the story as well as the characters (which I will get back to in a bit). 

First, I have to say that I wholeheartedly agree with majority of the reviewers who mention that the thriller / suspense aspect of the book fell extremely flat.  I think for me, the problem was the structure – the first half of the book focused mostly on setting up the background for the crime that eventually takes place, with the main protagonist Clare Bast trying to overcome the “imposter syndrome” she feels after marrying into an uber wealthy family and having to navigate the complicated dynamics that come with it.  Clare ends up having an extramarital affair with a charismatic art dealer and soon finds herself sucked into the unfortunate predicament of being in the wrong place at the wrong time when a murder and robbery take place,  The second half of the story then pivots to focusing on the mystery and, of course, figuring out what happened and why.  The way the story unfolded, the “final reveal” ended up being anti-climactic and the “solving” part pertaining to the murder and robbery lacked any feeling of suspense or thrill.  Sure, there were some surprising moments that I’m guessing were supposed to be “twists” but those were written in a way where the “twist” part barely registered.

Having said all that, one area where I seem to digress from many of the other reviewers is that, despite the lack of suspense / thriller elements, I actually liked the second half of the story more than the first half.  The reason for this has more to do with me as a reader rather than problems with the book itself.  With a few exceptions, I’m overall not a fan of the “rich people behaving badly” trope and unfortunately, this book not only had that in spades, the trope pretty much turned out to be the premise of the entire story.  As such, I could not stand any of the characters in the story and especially not the protagonist Clare, who honestly irritated me to no end because she fit exactly the type of pathetically ridiculous “let me see how many stupid decisions I can get away with making and then berate myself endlessly over those decisions” character that I find frustrating and hugely annoying.  As if that weren’t enough though, what made Clare even more annoying (for me at least) was how she kept trying to find excuses for her behavior and actions, but those excuses were not just ridiculous, but also contradictory and nonsensical. For example – one minute, Clare would be claiming that she was naïve, but then the next minute, she would say that she recognized she was being reckless, but oh well, whatever, she was going to forge ahead anyway knowing full well what the consequences would be; then later, she seems to contradict both of those excuses when she claims that she had merely “let her attention wander” and next thing she knew, she “became someone else” and failed to notice it in time. Clare was, of course, referring to her extramarital affair, which, because it occupied a huge swath of the book’s first half, was the reason why I preferred the second half of the book to the first half.  No, it’s not because Clare was less irritating in the second half (she never stopped being annoying in my opinion), but because the second half was more focused on solving the mystery rather than Clare’s behavior and actions.  Basically, for me, the first half of the story can be summed up as “Clare and her reckless actions makes a trainwreck of her life and even when she recognizes this, she keeps doing it anyway because she doesn’t seem to have the willpower to stop herself from being reckless” (the word “reckless” actually appears so many times throughout the book that I can’t help but wonder whether this is the author’s favorite word?).

Overall, I found this to be an okay read – not great but not horrible either (hence why I decided to rate this one 3 stars, which, for me, is the happy medium).  I think the key with this one is to go into it with the right expectations – meaning don’t expect a thrill ride, but rather a slow-burn literary mystery of sorts that takes time to unravel.  Some parts of the story also requires a bit of suspension of disbelief, but that’s to be expected given the nature of the genre.  I usually enjoy literary mysteries more than suspense/thrillers, but this one in particular didn’t really work for me, mostly because of the unlikeable characters, though of course, this is just me and my specific tastes, so I would suggest also checking out other reviews before deciding whether to pick this up or not.