Review: The Seekers of Deer Creek (by Thao Thai)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

After reading and loving Thao Thai’s debut novel Banyan Moon when it came out in 2023, I’ve been excitedly waiting for her next book, which finally arrived last month with The Seekers of Deer Creek. Thai’s sophomore effort is just as beautifully written as her debut, with so many profound moments that not only resonated with me, but also were sources of thought and reflection that continued to linger long after I finished the book.  Banyan Moon was a family saga about mother / daughter relationships and the complicated cultural dynamics that can inform these relationships in ways both positive and negative.  This time around, with Seekers, Thai centers her story around the Nguyen sisters, Vivi and Calla, and the complexities of a sibling relationship that is strained and emotionally fraught, yet also deeply loving.  The two sisters couldn’t be more different: Vivi is practical and sensible, the protector and “responsible” one whose job it is to constantly rein in her free-spirited and “frenetic” younger sister Calla who can be reckless and unpredictable to the point of worry. Yet both sisters share more in common than they think, especially in their struggles with addiction (both literal and figurative) and surviving a tumultuous childhood that ended up having a huge impact on both of them, though in different ways.  After the death of their father, Calla finds a letter and sketch in his home that is eerily similar to a painting created by reclusive Vietnamese artist K.P. Ly. -- the letter mentions an “offering,” which Calla believes is meant for their family.  She brings this discovery to Vivi in the hopes that she will accompany her on a search for this supposed relic from the past and while Vivi reluctantly agrees, the decision is a difficult one to make given the dissonance in the sisters’ relationship.  Indeed, the journey to understand their family’s past ends up having a profound impact on both sisters.

I have to say that I loved this novel nearly as much as I did Thao Thai’s debut, though I found the mystery aspect a little lacking, which is why I rated this one 4.5 stars instead of 5.  With that said, I actually connected with the part of the story that explored Vivi and Calla’s sibling relationship more than the mystery involving K.P. Ly and the lost artwork.  I related so much to Vivi, with her reticent personality and myopia when it came to her own needs.  Calla hits it on the nose when she reprimands her sister: “You like having the answers, working in the shadows so no one could judge your heart and mind.  You’d sooner vanish than leave yourself vulnerable.”  Vivi resents her sister for seeing through her, and yet, deep down, Vivi recognizes that, at the end of the day, she “didn’t want to win, she only wanted to be understood.” Vivi’s struggle to reconcile what she wants versus what is expected of her resonated with me deeply – true, some of Vivi’s behavior frustrated me to no end (such as the way she repeatedly hurts the people who love her by saying cruel things to them in efforts to push them away – her inability to allow anyone to love her was akin to a lingering illness that she could not overcome), but I still found myself rooting for her.  Perhaps one of the reasons why I’m so drawn to Vivi is because I see so much of myself in her, whether it’s the inherent flaws that she struggles to overcome or the attempts to navigate her different roles in life (“steady sister, dependable daughter, supportive best friend”).  To this point, I found this quote from the book particularly relevant and meaningful: “Some humans come with a price.  You accept them in their entirety, because learning to love their flaws is easier than not loving them at all.”

Thao Thai writes in a way that is both profound and perceptive, with so many gorgeously rendered sentences that I ended up having something to highlight on nearly every page.  With this book, I also did something I hadn’t done since grad school: close read and take notes.  While doing this took me longer to get through the book than normal, it was well worth the effort, as I picked up on so many nuances that I probably would not have otherwise. One example is Thao Thai’s allusion to the poem “Goblin Market” by Christina Rossetti, which I had written a paper about in one of my English Literature classes – as soon as I saw the reference, I couldn’t help noticing the parallels between the sisters’ relationships in both works and it completely changed how I engaged with the story.  That said, as much as I loved the experience, I probably won’t do this type of close reading analysis with every book, at least not upon the first read, as I see now that there is a benefit to reading a book straight through and then doing a closer read upon the second go-around when I already know the main beats of the story.

If you loved Thao Thai’s debut as much as I did, I would definitely recommend reading her sophomore novel, though I must be clear that both books are very different in story and tone, despite sharing similarly emotive and beautiful prose (and absolutely gorgeous covers).  I can’t wait to see what Thao Thai will write next!

Received ARC from Mariner Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Devoted (by Catherine Cho)

My Rating: 4 stars

As those who follow my reviews probably know by now, I can be somewhat of a fanatic when it comes to the depiction of Hong Kong (both the city and its culture) in certain mediums of entertainment (such as movies and TV shows, for instance), but especially in books.  Given Hong Kong’s literary bona fides as the former home base for some of the greatest authors in the Chinese-speaking world (Jin Yong, Ni Kuang, and Eileen Chang immediately come to mind), it has always saddened me to see the dearth of books set in or about HK that actually appear in the mainstream literary market (I’m referring mostly to fictional works here).  The books that do make it are usually written from an expat perspective (which of course makes sense given the city’s colonial roots) and oftentimes, I feel, lean too heavily into depicting the glamorous, fast-paced “cosmopolitan international city” side of HK rather than the ordinary, somewhat gritty and definitely less glamorous side that I’m more familiar with.  Though perhaps, with Hong Kong’s unique position as a city perpetually undergoing an identity crisis, I probably should not be so surprised by the disparate depictions that can vary widely based on one’s perspective.

Within this context, I found Catherine Cho’s novel The Devoted quite refreshing in that it is told from an expat perspective (the experience of a Korean family in Hong Kong), yet it also leans heavily into the side of Hong Kong that most mainstream audiences in the English-speaking world probably would not be familiar with: the dark, gritty world of HK’s infamous triad societies. Granted, we ordinary folks likely wouldn’t be familiar with the inner workings of these triad societies either, but for those of us who grew up on a steady diet of HK movies and TV series (especially in the decades when the triads were actively involved in the HK film industry), the triad society concept definitely wouldn’t be a foreign one.  Indeed, as I was reading Cho’s novel, I could picture the world she was writing about quite vividly: scenes from all those famous triad movies I grew up watching -- A Better Tomorrow, Election, Infernal Affairs, the Young and Dangerous franchise, to name few -- would come flooding back into my mind, but at the same time, it also made me curious to see what Cho’s version of the triad society would look like.  I say this because majority of the time, stories about the triads (whether movies, TV shows, or books) center on the male members of these organized crime groups – women were usually periphery characters who were either victims of the triads’ activities or passive partners expected to stand by their men no matter the cost. Cho’s story, however, goes in a slightly different direction in that she centers the narrative around a young Korean woman, Eunha, whose father and brother are both Dragon Heads (triad society leaders).  Despite attempts to shield Eunha from this criminal underworld, including having her marry into a respectable family, it’s impossible for her not to be impacted in some way due to her family’s infamous connections.  Caught between two very different worlds, Eunha struggles to reconcile the various roles she is meant to play -- daughter, sister, wife, mother -- while trying to navigate the complexities of a past that is inextricably tangled with her future.  I appreciate how Cho decided to center Eunha’s struggle as the driving force for the main tension in the story (as opposed to the experiences of the men whom the triad societies usually revolve around), yet at the same time, she does not skimp on the details about the triad lifestyle and activities.  This made for both a unique and atmospheric read.

As mentioned earlier, I had initially picked this one up purely for the Hong Kong setting, but in all honesty, knowing that the story would be told from the expat perspective gave me pause in that I thought this would go the way that most expat narratives usually do: a glamorized version that doesn’t reveal much of the “real” Hong Kong.  But to my pleasant surprise and delight, that definitely wasn’t the case here, as Cho actually gives us plenty of glimpses into the “old” Hong Kong that I know and love.  Some of the nostalgia-inducing details that I noticed in the story (in no particular order): the New Territories, fishing villages, horse races at Happy Valley, the ferry, Victoria harbor, neon signs, Mongkok, Tsim Sha Tsui, Stanley, street hawkers and food stalls, cha chaan tengs, the “other” family on the mainland, KTV, 5-10-15 drinking game, Lan Kwai Fong night life, dark alleyways, the Peninsula hotel, Lane Crawford, tai tais, night markets, Sandy Lam, the monsoon weather, typhoon season, dim sum restaurants, tiny apartments in buildings with doormen, jade medallions, the Peak, Kowloon, fortune tellers and soothsayers, trams and buses, egg tarts and milk tea (I could go on but I will stop here, as this list is already way too long).

For me, this was a nostalgic read that I ended up enjoying due to my familiarity with the setting, but I understand this may not necessarily be the case for others, so I would suggest doing your research before deciding whether to pick this one up.  One thing I will say is that for a story about triads, this is actually pretty tame, especially when compared to the HK triad-themed movies of the old days.  Most of the violence (which there isn’t much of in the first place) happens off the page so those who are concerned with reading about gory scenes don’t have to worry.  If anything, read this one for the historical and cultural aspects, which were particularly well done in my opinion.

Received ARC from Washington Square Press via NetGalley.

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: An Infinite Love Story (by Chanel Cleeton)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I’ve read nearly all of Chanel Cleeton’s historical fiction novels, her newest release, An Infinite Love Story, is probably my favorite of her works outside of the Perez family series.  This time around, Cleeton centers the story around the Space Race of the 1960s, when the United Staes and Russia were locked in a fierce battle to develop their space program and send people to the moon.  The story opens in 1968 and revolves around Vivian Mitchell, whose astronaut husband Joe has just been launched into space for a lunar orbit mission when his spacecraft loses contact with mission control.  As the days turn into weeks, Joe and his crew are presumed dead.  In the throes of immense grief, Vivian yearns to escape the public scrutiny that comes with the territory of being an astronaut’s wife and instead, mourn her husband in peace – but when the investigation into the lost spacecraft veers off course and the entire incident is in danger of being written off as an “operator error,” Vivian knows she cannot stand idly by and watch people tarnish the reputation of the dear husband who dedicated his life to advancing America’s space ambitions. In so doing, Vivian also shines a light on the struggles that astronaut families face, as well as the sacrifices that the wives especially are expected to make in order to support their husbands’ careers.  When Vivian starts to receive messages of a personal nature that she believes could only have been sent by Joe, her hope in her husband’s survival is rekindled and sets her on the path to not only uncover the mystery of what possibly happened, but most importantly, to bring her husband back to her.

Cleeton’s latest novel is a bit of a departure from her previous works.  In addition to the historical backdrop and the love story that are the usual focal points in all her stories, this one also incorporates some speculative elements, veering slightly into science fiction territory, but in a way that doesn’t detract from the main storyline – specifically, Vivian and Joe’s “infinite love story,” which we get glimpses of through chapters that alternate between the start of their relationship in 1961 and the launch as well as its aftermath in 1968.  I normally don’t read much speculative or science fiction, as the supernatural and science elements usually overwhelm and go over my head, but in this case, Cleeton was able to balance the various genre elements – historical, romance, science fiction – quite perfectly. 

I was also very much invested in the central love story, as Vivian and Joe’s relationship felt believable to me and was written in a way that it was nearly impossible not to want to root for them. All of the supporting characters in the story were also wonderfully rendered – I especially loved the friendship that Vivian and Polly shared, which moved me almost as much as the main romance did. Speaking of which, I felt that Cleeton did a great job with conveying the poignancy of Vivian and Joe’s enduring love for each other, but not in a sappy or saccharine way – their relationship, as well as all the others in the story, were emotionally nuanced and realistic.  Having read most of Cleeton’s previous works, I feel that this one has an emotional depth to it that many of the others lacked.

I definitely enjoyed this one a lot overall, though it fell a tad bit short of 5 stars for me only because I found some of the writing a little clunky and there were some overly repeated phrases (such as “if she was being honest” or some variation of this) that I felt were unnecessary, which distracted me at times as I was reading (though much of this could be attributed to the fact that I read an ARC copy – maybe the final edit will be different). Though with all that said, both issues are relatively minor in the grand scheme of things.  Without a doubt, I definitely recommend picking this one up, especially if you’re a fan of Cleeton’s works.  For me personally, I feel that Cleeton gets better and better with each novel, which makes me anticipate what she might write next!

Received ARC from Berkley via NetGalley.

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: Manga Classics: Journey to the West - The Beginning (by Wu Cheng'en; adapted by Jim Zub, Char A, and Julien Choy)

My Rating: 4 stars

I’ve tried to read comics in e-book form before, but the experience wasn’t a pleasant one, as I had to zoom in and out a lot and it was difficult to turn the pages properly.  E-galley (ARC) versions were even worse, as those were often incomplete in some way and it felt weird overall.  This is why when I saw the manga version of Journey to the West as one of the options for the Camp NetGalley badge, I was reluctant to download it at first, even though I really wanted to see how one of my favorite childhood stories would be adapted in manga form.  Ultimately, due to my lack of interest in the other options available for the badge, I decided to go ahead and give this one a shot and ended up being pleasantly surprised by the experience.  When I saw that the book was only available to download and read using the NetGalley Shelf, I thought this was a bit odd, as I’ve never used this platform before (I usually read e-books via Kindle or Kobo) and didn’t know what to expect, but this turned out to be the right choice, as using NetGalley’s own application to read this felt very similar to reading a physical version -- especially critical given that the manga was vividly rendered in full color.  I also appreciated the tutorial that was provided, which clearly explained the proper way to read manga (from right to left) – though I already knew this, the reminder was still tremendously helpful, since I don’t read manga all that often so it can be easy to forget that the format is opposite that of a regular book.

Content-wise, this first book mostly introduces the characters – the Buddhist monki Tang Sanzang and his 4 disciples Bai Longma (White Dragon Horse), Zhu Bajie (Pigsy), Sha Wujing (Sandy) and the infamous Monkey King Sun Wukong -- and explains their mission westward to retrieve the Buddha’s sutras, as well as covers the story of the Bull Demon and Princess Iron Fan.  The manga itself seems to be geared toward a middle grade audience, though of course, anyone who loves manga, regardless of age, will also probably enjoy this.

Given its status as one of the great Chinese classical works of literature, Journey to the West is more than familiar to those of us who grew up in the Chinese culture.  Though I’ve never read the epic work in its entirety (it’s near impossible to find a complete, unabridged version out there, whether in Chinese or English), I’m familiar enough with the original story to appreciate the fact that adapting such a complex epic into manga form for a young audience is no easy feat.  This version does a good job providing an overview of the mission and a few of the famous adventures that the group gets involved in, though inevitably (and unsurprisingly), much of the focus character-wise is on the mischievous troublemaker Sun Wukong and his backstory, with his brothers taking more of a backseat in terms of the action.  In terms of the comedy / humor that is an important element of the original story, I think the anime format naturally emphasizes this aspect of the story, with the exaggerated expressions visually showing the characters’ various emotions.

Overall, this was an enjoyable read and definitely a fun way for young readers to engage with such an iconic classic.  With that said, my only complaint would be that the language used is a little too Westernized and kind of slangy (words such as “bro,” “‘cause,” “gonna,” “yer,” etc…I even saw “freakin” in there a few times), to the point that it felt jarring at times for those of us who are used to the original version of the story usually told in the classical language (it was originally written in the 16^th century, after all). For kids, it probably won’t be much of a problem, but adults reading this might be put off a bit by the language. That aside, I think anyone reading this manga will be sufficiently entertained.

Received ARC from Manga Classics 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: The Calamity Club (by Kathryn Stockett)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Whew, this book was long!  At 650+ pages (28+ hours on audio), Kathryn Stockett’s The Calamity Club is an epic force of a novel that, despite its length, is well worth the read.  Set in Oxford, Mississippi in 1933, the story alternates between the perspectives of eleven-year-old Margot “Meg” Lefleur, one of the precocious “big girls” at the Lafayette County Orphan Asylum who lives a lonely life being constantly mistreated by the orphanage’s horrid director, and twenty-four-year-old Birdie Calhoun, an outspoken spinster from the Mississippi Delta who visits her sister in the hopes of asking for her help with their struggling family back home, but finds herself entrenched in a cataclysmic situation involving her sister’s family that ends up changing her life forever. 

The meticulousness of Stockett’s research definitely shines through here, as the historical details are vividly rendered throughout, making the story both incredibly atmospheric and immersive.  I absolutely felt transported to the Depression-era South – a historically significant time period where various prejudices and hypocrisies related to race, gender, and class were rampant.  Under such circumstances, the story’s two female protagonists – Birdie and Meg – must constantly fight to live their lives the way they choose to rather than the way others expect them to.  Thematically, Stockett covers a lot of ground with this story – abandonment, alcoholism, abuse, women’s rights, family dynamics, race and gender relations, death, grief, etc.—with many of these themes woven seamlessly into the story alongside the historical elements in such a way so as not to impact the story’s flow and pacing.  In addition, despite the heaviness of these themes, Stockett also managed to balance them out with lightheartedness and humor where appropriate, which I definitely appreciated.

Historical aspects aside, another area that truly stands out with this story is its characters, all of whom are tremendously well-developed, both heroes and villains alike.  In this regard, I highly highly recommend listening to the audiobook version of the story, as the two narrators, Jenna Lamia and January LaVoy, do an especially astounding job – they not only bring the two main characters Birdie and Meg to life, they also bring the rest of the characters to life as well through the way they perform the other characters’ voices with different accents and tones, to the point that I actually felt like I was listening to a full cast narration. Given how realistic the narrators made these characters come across, I felt fully invested in their lives and wanted to know what would happen to them (and of course, I was rooting for them every step of the way as they fought to rise above their circumstances).

With all that said, I definitely agree with all the other reviewers who’ve mentioned how unnecessarily long this book is and how perhaps it could benefit from some editing.  In addition to some sections that were more overly descriptive than they needed to be, some of the storylines could’ve also been trimmed down somewhat.  Here again, I recommend listening to the audio version because the narration is so exceptionally done that it immerses you fully into the story and makes the somewhat draggier parts feel less tedious.

Lastly, I think I’m probably one of the few people on the planet who has not yet read Stockett’s first novel The Help (despite it being on my TBR for ages), but I hope to rectify that soon, as I really enjoyed Stockett’s writing and storytelling here and since her debut is considered her masterpiece, it definitely needs to be moved to my “must-read” list!

Received ARC from Spiegel & Grau via NetGalley.

Review: Whistler (by Ann Patchett)

My Rating: 5 stars

As an Ann Patchett fangirl, I will read anything she writes and while I’m not a completist of her works (yet), reading all her books is on my bucket list of life goals (alongside visiting her bookstore Parnassus someday).  While I slowly work my way through Patchett’s backlist, I’m also making sure I don’t fall behind with her newer works, so I prioritized her newest release, the novel Whistler, which came out this month.  I originally got approved for an ARC copy, but due to timing issues, I ended up reading the finished version, since I of course pre-ordered a copy that landed on my doorstep last week (just in time, if you ask me). 

With Whistler, Patchett once again delivers a beautifully crafted, exquisite story that made me both laugh and cry in equal measure.  This poignant and moving novel opens with our protagonist, 53-year-old Daphne Fuller, and her husband Jonathan visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York when they notice an “old guy” who appears to be following them.  When they go to confront the guy, they discover that he is none other than Eddie Triplett, the former husband of her thrice-married mother Abigail, and the stepfather whom Daphne and her sister Leda loved more than their own biological father.  Daphne last saw Eddie forty-four years ago, when she was nine years old – they were involved in a car crash together that year which ended up changing the course of their lives.  Before they returned from the hospital, Abigail had divorced Eddie and sent him away without even allowing him to say goodbye to the stepdaughters whom he loved as though they were his own.  Devastated, Daphne buries the memories of that brief period when Eddie was in her life and moves on to live a happy existence as a schoolteacher, eventually marrying Jonathan, a now-retired hospital administrator who is seventeen years her senior, but the age difference has not stopped them from having a deep and loving relationship.  Now that they’ve been reunited, Eddie and Daphne resume their father/daughter relationship, catching each other up on their lives and meeting each other’s families and friends, determined this time to never be separated again. 

Switching between first person and close third, Patchett skillfully layers in the events of the past – specifically, the incident that changed both Eddie’s and Daphne’s lives – while telling Daphne’s story in the present.  This is done so masterfully that, to be honest, I didn’t even notice until I watched an interview that Patchett did where she mentioned it.  As always, Patchett writes perceptively about the complexities of human relationships, capturing the messiness of complicated family dynamics in a way that is both resonant and relatable.  The characters in this story were all so wonderfully rendered, I honestly loved them all, but Daphne and Eddie were definitely favorites – the way they interacted with each other was witty and fun and never failed to put a smile on my face.  I especially loved how Patchett juxtaposed the interactions that the nine-year-old Daphne had with Eddie during the car crash scenes versus their interactions once reunited as adults to highlight both characters’ growth as well as the nuances of their relationship. 

With this newest novel, Patchett continues to do what she does best – present an emotionally subtle story with endearing yet far from perfect characters who navigate the vicissitudes of life with grace and clarity.  Reminiscent of Patchett’s previous two novels, Tom Lake and The Dutch House (both of which I loved), Whistler is written in a wistful yet hopeful tone – in addition, there are also similarities in its focus on characters who are perfectly content with basking in the quiet enjoyment of being in the company of people they love.  There are not many authors out there who are able to take a simple premise such as this one and craft a narrative that is both incredibly rich (yet not overwhelming) as well as profoundly insightful.  Ann Patchett is, without a doubt, a national treasure and I can’t wait to see what she has in store for us next!

Review: The Last Mandarin (by Louise Penny and Mellissa Fung)

My Rating: 4 stars 

I must confess that I have not yet read any of Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache books, not because I don’t want to, but rather because I came too late to her series.  Specifically, when it comes to book series, I’m the type of reader who is very particular about reading the entire series straight through, in order starting with the first book. The problem with this reading method, of course, is that if there are a lot of books in the series, I could potentially be spending months reading the series, which means that I would not be able to get to any of the other books on my already overflowing TBR (exacerbated by the fact that I’m not the type of reader who can read multiple books at one time, with a few very limited exceptions).  Since there are already 20 books (and counting) in the Gamache series, it would take me way too long to catch up – so regardless of how much I want to visit Three Pines, I unfortunately won’t get a chance to do so anytime soon.

Given the above, imagine my delight when I found out that Louise Penny would be collaborating with journalist Mellissa Fung on a new book – a standalone political thriller that would revolve around a Chinese mother and daughter crime-fighting duo.  My first thought was that, finally, I would get a chance to read a Louise Penny book, but at the same time, I was also excited that many elements of the book would be right up my alley: for example -- mother/daughter relationships, Chinese history and culture, Hong Kong setting, generational family story, etc.  I ended up going into this collaboration with high expectations and I’m happy to report that it did not disappoint!

The opening scene is quite gripping, as we are introduced to our two unlikely heroines -- Alice Li, a Chinese American food blogger, and her larger-than-life mother Vivien Li, a world-famous dissident who participated in the Tiananmen Square protests and is now a fierce human rights activist with supporters including the President of the United States.  Alice agrees to meet her mother at a fancy Washington D.C. hotel for brunch, but does so reluctantly, as she has a strained relationship with Vivien due to having to live in her shadow, but also because Vivien’s cold and distant attitude toward Alice created a rift that the mother and daughter cannot seem to overcome.  In the middle of brunch, Alice escapes to the restroom to get a temporary respite from her demanding mother, when suddenly, a series of alarms go off, not just locally, but it turns out, also all around the world, setting off a panic that quickly descends into chaos.  When the signal that triggered the alarms is traced back to China, Vivien (unsurprisingly) and Alice (surprisingly) are summoned to the White House to meet with the President in the hopes of figuring out what is going on.  As the situation continues to escalate with more “attacks” that result in mass casualties around the world, Alice and Vivien find themselves caught up in a battle of wills between two superpowers – the U.S. and China – whose mutual mistrust and misunderstanding of each other run deep (not unlike the mother and daughter’s own relationship).  Amidst the chaos, one thing becomes clear: there will be more attacks, with each one being more catastrophic than the last, and an outcome that no one wants to see happen – a possible declaration of war.  Given the stakes, both Alice and Vivien – along with their respective governments – must figure out a way to work together in order to prevent the next attack (as well as the disastrous outcome that is sure to follow).

Those who follow my reviews will probably know that I’m not a fan of books about politics (especially American politics) and for the most part, if I know that a book will have a heavy political bent, I try to stay away from it as much as possible.  Unsurprisingly then, I’m not keen on political thrillers either, though this particular book is an obvious exception (for reasons I mentioned above).  Indeed, there were moments as I was reading this book that I didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on from a politics standpoint (and I didn’t even try to keep the various characters’ political titles straight).  In addition to the politics though, there was also an underlying storyline related to AI and technology that I wasn’t too keen on either, as this is an area that I understand even less than politics.  While I have to admit that this did impact my reading experience a bit, fortunately the other aspects of the novel related to the mother/daughter relationship as well as the Chinese historical and cultural elements were conveyed in a compelling enough way as to keep my interest continually piqued (and kept me turning the pages to see what happens next).

As I was reading through the reviews, I noticed the reaction to this novel has been a mixed bag so far.  Some love it, some hate it, some feel it is too much of a departure for Louise Penny, some feel the plotting doesn’t work, some feel it’s not action-packed enough, etc. Of course, as with all books, everyone will have a different opinion, though I have to admit that I was a bit surprised by the huge disparity between the “like” and “dislike” – usually the gap between the two is smaller. I cannot speak for others, as we each bring our own respective experiences into our reading, but on a personal level, I felt that there were so many aspects of this novel that were well done.  Now, I must say that I read this one less for the “action-packed political thriller” piece (as I said before, I don’t read too many political thrillers, so can’t really comment on whether Penny and Fung succeed in this area), but rather, I was more interested in the character development (especially the mother/daughter relationship) as well as how the culture (my culture) was portrayed.  In both of these areas, I feel that Penny and Fung definitely delivered the goods.

First, the characters – one of the things that stood out to me with this book is the character development.  Both Alice and Vivien are nuanced characters who may not necessarily be likeable right off the bat, but they evolve as the story progresses and by the end, even though they might not have fully resolved their differences (which, realistically, they probably wouldn’t), they do come to a better understanding of each other so that their relationship becomes less strained.  Indeed, some of my favorite scenes from the story were the ones involving various interactions between mother and daughter.  The reason why I was so drawn to Alice and Vivien – not just their characters, but also the complexity of their relationship – is because, as a Chinese daughter myself, I understood intimately the complicated dynamics between mother and daughter that play out throughout the story.  One example (of many) that best illustrates this is in the opening scene, where Alice notes that when she entered the restaurant, she was 26 years old, but when she got to her mother’s table, she regressed to being 14 years old; as they interacted further, she became 9 years old and then 5, and finally, at the end of her rope, Alice regresses to a 2 year old on the verge of throwing a tantrum.  As I read this opening scene, I was struck by the familiarity of the emotions – specifically, the ever-present undercurrent of tension between mother and daughter – that is a defining feature of their relationship.  A couple chapters later, there is this quote, which is one of my favorites because of how perfectly and succinctly it encapsulates what makes the Asian mother/daughter dynamic so challenging: “[Alice] heard the clicking of her mother’s tongue.  Exasperation.  Disapproval.  Disappointment. The trinity that slowly crushed the spirit of Chinese children.”  For Asian daughters, striving to meet our mothers’ expectations but never getting there is part and parcel of our relationship dynamic, just like their constant criticisms of every aspect of our lives (how we look, how we dress, what we eat, who we hang out with, etc.) is the natural “love language” with which our mothers communicate with us.  This is partly why I was able to relate so deeply to Alice and Vivien’s constant bickering throughout the story – others might find it annoying, but I actually found it refreshing to see the familiar relationship dynamic depicted so authentically in a mainstream novel.

As for the Chinese history and culture portion – as I mentioned earlier, both authors did a great job in this area.  I watched an interview that Penny and Fung did where they talked about all the thought and discussion that went into this aspect of the book and I have to say that it absolutely shows.  Both authors said that one of their main challenges was figuring out how to accurately portray the history and culture portion without bogging down the story with too much detail – which I feel they definitely accomplished (and it was no easy feat considering the multiple settings of the story in mainland China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan, which each have their own very different cultural nuances). One thing from that interview that stuck with me is when both authors mentioned that the only argument they had while writing this book was about a scene in Taiwan that was originally going to depict people looting, but Fung said that in the culture they are writing about, it would be inaccurate to put that, as looting is not a common occurrence in those circumstances, so they ended up writing that scene differently.  Both authors mentioned in the interview that, with Fung’s Chinese background (and especially with various members of her family living in Hong Kong and China currently), she was very conscious about being culturally true to the place that they were setting a scene in.  I definitely noticed this as I was reading (especially the scenes set in my birthplace of Hong Kong, a city with which I am intimately familiar) and I appreciate the meticulous attention that was paid to getting things culturally right.

Overall, I felt that this was a solid collaborative effort from Penny and Fung, especially given the two authors’ completely different backgrounds and writing styles. While I can’t comment on how this book compares to either author’s previous works (because, as I mentioned earlier, I haven’t read either author’s previous works), nor do I care to comment on the genre aspect (i.e. how well the “political thriller” piece was executed), I really enjoyed the story as a whole.  I’m not sure whether there will be another collaboration in the future with these two authors (who are both great storytellers in their own right), but if there is, I’m definitely looking forward to it!

Received ARC from Minotaur via NetGalley (though I ended up reading a finished copy).

Review: The Young Will Remember (by Eve J. Chung)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Ever since I finished reading Taiwanese American author Eve J. Chung’s stunning and immersive debut novel Daughters of Shandong back in 2023, I have been eagerly anticipating her next book, so I of course was ecstatic to find out that her sophomore novel, The Young Will Remember, would be published this year.  Whereas Chung’s debut drew on her own family history – specifically, the story of her maternal grandmother and her experiences during the Chinese civil war -- this second novel is inspired by her half-Korean husband’s family history and shed lights on another lesser-known piece of 20^th century history:  the Korean War, which was also known as the “Forgotten War.” At the same time, Chung also incorporates her own experiences as a women’s human rights lawyer as well as her work with victims of sexual violence to bring some much-needed attention to the crime of military sexual slavery and the history of “comfort women” during World War II and the wars that followed it. 

Chung weaves these threads together through the story of Eleanor (Ellie) Chang, a Chinese American journalist who becomes trapped behind enemy lines when the plane she is riding in goes down in the mountains of North Korea at the height of the Korean War.  Upon witnessing her comrades being executed in cold blood, Ellie believes she is about to meet the same fate – that is, until a woman she later comes to know as “Emma” claims Ellie as her long-lost daughter Song Yun-Hee, whom Emma had been searching for ever since she was kidnapped by Japanese occupation forces during the previous war.  Even though Ellie is obviously not her daughter, Emma takes her into the home where she lives with her long-time friends, the Pak family – Pastor Pak, his wife Imo, and their son Jae-Min – and treats her as part of the family.  Gradually, Ellie forges a close connection with Emma and Imo – a relationship that only grows stronger as the war intensifies and they are eventually forced to escape to safety in the south. Throughout their harrowing escape, even as they bear witness to the chaos and destruction of bombs raining down on them almost daily, Emma never stops searching for her daughter and at some point, Ellie also takes up the search for Yun-Hee as her own personal mission.  While the search for Yun-Hee is a thread woven throughout the narrative, the heart and soul of the story centers around the bond that Ellie and Emma form as they endure the difficulties of life amidst the upheaval of war.

Once again, Chung delivers a moving story about ordinary women who, bound together by the will to survive the extraordinary hardship and devastating heartbreak that they face, fight against all odds to rise resiliently above the forces that threaten them.  In situating her characters within the historical context of the impact that World War II had on Korea (which she discusses in her Author’s Note), Chung succeeds in doing what well-researched and well-written historical fiction does best: shed much-needed light on little known aspects of history that can also serve as relevant teaching moments when circumstances require it.  In this light, and given its themes, the title of the novel – The Young Will Remember – is indeed apt.

While I still prefer Chung’s debut novel Daughters of Shandong (which was a 5-star read for me), this sophomore effort is a worthwhile read and definitely highly recommended – though with the caveat that this won’t be an easy read by any means, given its depiction of war and its atrocities. Even so, it is still time well-spent.

Received ARC from Berkley via NetGalley.

Review: The Book Witch (by Meg Shaffer)

My Rating: 5 stars

The Book Witch is another fun, charming, delightful read from one of my favorite contemporary fantasy authors, Meg Shaffer.  I read and loved both of Shaffer’s previous books (2023’s The Wishing Game and 2024’s The Lost Story), both of which were so imaginative and brilliantly crafted that, when I heard she would have a new book out, I couldn’t help wondering how she would be able to top those two wonderful works.  Well, top those she did, as this newest work is not only wildly creative, but also simultaneously compelling and whimsical – storytelling at its finest, in my humble opinion. 

The story revolves around a whimsically named protagonist, Rainy March, whose job as a book witch is to defend works of fiction by acting as a “fixer” – with the help of a magical umbrella and an adorable cat named Koshka, she goes on missions to save beloved stories from being negatively altered and disappearing into oblivion. Whether it’s locating and escorting a runaway protagonist back into their story so they can live their “happily ever after” (as she does with Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice), rescuing kidnapped detectives so they can finish solving the cases that are central to an entire mystery series (which she does for the noir Duke of Chicago series) or preventing entire fictional worlds from being burned down by enemy book burners hellbent on destroying stories that don’t conform to their tastes, Rainy is good at her job, partly because of natural talent and partly because she is a strict rule-follower.  That is, until she falls in love with the Duke of Chicago on one of her missions and continues to maintain a relationship with him – a decision that nearly causes her to lose her job as well as her magical powers after she is caught breaking rule number seven, which states that “real people belong in the real world and fictional characters belong in works of fiction.”  But then the beloved grandfather who raised her disappears, along with a precious book that was a gift from her deceased mother, which prompts Rainy to defy all the rules and conjure up the Duke to help her solve the case and find her grandfather before it’s too late.  Together, they jump in and out of famous book worlds such as The Great Gatsby and Alice in Wonderland in a race-against-time adventure that ultimately leads Rainy to uncover secrets that will change her life forever.

Structurally, this book is divided into seven parts, with each part named for a specific literary genre such as romance, mystery, fantasy, etc. – a “genre mashup” of sorts that not only correlates to the story’s actual plot points, but also reflects the book’s own impossibility of categorization into one specific genre (while, strictly speaking, I would classify this book as a fantasy, there are actually elements of multiple genres in here).  In addition to the clever structure, Shaffer’s writing flows so smoothly here that the reading felt effortless, yet also captivating – I definitely could not stop turning the pages.  In terms of plot and characters – well, let’s just say that Shaffer definitely did not disappoint in both areas:  I loved these characters just as much as I loved the characters in her previous books, and the plot went in a direction that I absolutely did not see coming, but in a good way (this is where the “wildly creative” piece comes in – read this book and you will know what I mean). 

I don’t know how Shaffer does it, but now after having read all three of her books, I am in awe of the way she is able to blend reality and fantasy elements so seamlessly into her stories. I’m usually not much of a fantasy reader, but Shaffer’s books are exceptions, as she blurs the line between the realistic and fantastic in such a way that I don’t feel like I’m reading a fantasy.  This brings me to another feature of Shaffer’s books that I absolutely appreciate and love – each of her books addresses contemporary societal issues (in this instance, the recent battles over book banning being the most prominent), but she weaves these into the story so seamlessly that, in most cases, you don’t even realize she’s doing it. 

My impression whenever I read one of Shaffer’s books is that she is a true book lover, as her passion for books and reading definitely shines through with each book.  Both of her previous books were homages to childhood classics (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Chronicles of Narnia, respectively), but this newest book steps it up a notch in that it is an homage to all books – both modern and classic – as well as the act of reading in general and its power to change lives.  Indeed, avid readers and book lovers will appreciate the various references to literary works and characters that Shaffer scatters throughout the story (including an Easter egg reference to her own debut novel, which I enjoyed seeing) -- though with that said, my absolutely favorite book-related reference isn’t to a fictional character, but rather, to one of my real-life book icons, LeVar Burton (and it’s obvious in the two scenes where she has LeVar make “cameo” appearances that Shaffer adores him as much as those of us who grew up watching Reading Rainbow still do).

There are so many great lines in this book (I highlighted so much that I had a hand cramp by the time I finished reading, lol), but one of my favorites is this -- “All stories are love stories when you love stories” – as it sums up the vibe of this book perfectly.  Needless to say, I’m officially a Meg Shaffer fan now and my bookish heart cannot wait to read her next book (that will no doubt be book and/or reading-related).  In the interim though, I definitely recommend all her books and hope more people pick them up, especially fellow book lovers and avid readers who love books about books.

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.