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: Dolly All The Time (by Annabel Monaghan)

My Rating: 5 stars

I’m usually not much of a romance reader, not because of anything wrong with the genre, but mostly because of my own misplaced biases when it comes to real-life romantic relationships.  For the most part, my general attitude toward romantic love is a cynical one (probably attributable to the fact that I’ve seen and/or experienced my fair share of bad relationships in real life), to the point that, over the years, I’ve pretty much internalized the romance trope of “happily ever after” as a fictional illusion that only occurs in fairy tales.  Okay, to put it more bluntly – since I’ve never bought into the idea of “happily ever after,” it makes sense that given this concept’s prevalence in romance novels as well as my lack of belief in its existence (in reality that is), I’m generally not interested in reading about it over and over again in romance novels.  That being said, this doesn’t mean that I don’t read romances at all, rather it means that I am incredibly picky with the romances I do choose to read.  While there isn’t any specific “criteria” per se in terms of what types of romances I prefer to read or not to read, I do tend to be drawn to those that have more or less the following elements: 1) a strong female protagonist with a growth arc that allows her character to evolve and grow (basically the opposite of the stereotypical “damsel in distress” trope), 2) witty banter (the fun and non-offensive kind), whether between the main couple or the other characters in the story, 3) a believable main couple that I can root for (if they have sizzling chemistry, all the better, lol), 4) humor, whether ironic or sardonic, as long as it’s not hurtful or mean, 5) delightful, funny, and/or endearing supporting characters (which sometimes can make or break a story even more than the main couple), and 6) emotional depth that has the ability to make me both laugh and cry. [Sidenote: If you’re thinking at this point that it sounds like I’m describing a Jane Austen novel, you would be absolutely right, since Austen is one of my favorite authors].

Annabel Monaghan’s newest work, Dolly All the Time, is exactly one of those romances that encompasses all 6 of the above elements, and then some!  The main protagonist, Dolly, is capable, competent, dependable, hardworking, yet at the same time also has a fun personality – I was drawn to her from the start.  But more than anything, I connected with Dolly on a deeper level because of her role as a caretaker – a reliable “fixer” who finds it “easier to take care of things than to ask for help,” resulting in her putting everyone else’s needs in front of her own. I’ve been the main breadwinner and caretaker of my family since I was 18 years old (I’m in my forties now) and, like Dolly, my “whole identity [was] tied up in doing everything for everyone.” I’ve never known how to not be responsible, to not fix things, to not try to help come up with a solution to a problem. At one point in the book, Dolly notes the following: “One thing about caretakers is they are never carefree.  Without our cares, we’d just be takers like everyone else.” This is probably my favorite quote from the book because it so succinctly encapsulates the essence of who Dolly is as person, but at the same time, it also captures perfectly what those of us who are lifelong caretakers instinctively understand:  that we will always have a fear of asking for things for ourselves not because it goes against our selfless natures, but rather, because we can’t afford to be selfish, especially when everyone is relying on us to keep all the plates constantly spinning. And it is precisely because of this that I cried tears of joy when Dolly, in falling in love with Stewart, finds it in herself to let go and loosen up, even if only for a little while: “My favorite thing about myself…is that I don’t need help.  I make do.  I’m someone who can make something out of nothing.  This summer I loosened up on that a little, sort of pretending I was a different kind of person.  I wasn’t gripping my righteousness so tightly…I actually felt like myself, just not so tired.  Not thinking of every single other person before myself.  I’d like to figure out how to be her all the time.”

With the character of Dolly, Monaghan created a character so relatable that I honestly never want to stop reading about her.  I feel like I have so much to learn from Dolly — through her, I see what’s possible, the light at the end of the tunnel.  I honestly haven’t felt so inspired by a book in a long time and yes, I want to hold onto that feeling for a while longer (which is one reason why aim taking my precious time writing this review).  I love this book so much that, as soon as I finished it, I went and added all of Annabel Monaghan’s books to my TBR (and hope to incorporate as many of them as I can in between my other reads, especially during times when I’m craving a lighthearted pick-me-up).  

Given how much I loved this book, it’s probably quite obvious that I would highly recommend it, but more so, I would actually recommend listening to the audio version narrated by the inimitable Julia Whelan (one of my favorite audiobook narrators).  Her performance of this book truly elevated it to the highest levels — for me, it definitely made the difference between a 4-4.5 star read to a solid 5 stars! 

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: Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers (by Jesse Q. Sutanto)

My Rating: 5 stars

I’ve been wanting to read one of Jesse Q. Sutanto’s books for ages, so of course I was overjoyed when one of my book clubs picked the first book in her Vera Wong series for our monthly read.  After reading so many “heavy” books in recent weeks, this hilarious cozy mystery was the perfect palette cleanser.  I honestly don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard (and so much) – it’s definitely not an exaggeration to say that this was the (literally) “laugh out loud” funniest book I’ve read in ages!

As the elderly protagonist of the story, Vera Wong is a busybody who is meddlesome and nosy and yes, sometimes downright annoying in the way she likes to stick her nose in other people’s business, but she is also competent, efficient, endearing (in her own way of course) and always makes the most mouthwatering dishes (oh and let’s not forget her special skill of brewing the most perfect teas).  Growing up in a Chinese household, I was surrounded by my fair share of meddlesome aunties, so Vera’s antics in the story were both familiar and resonant.  I recognized Vera’s bluntness and her tendency to speak brazenly but matter-of-factly about things without taking other people’s feelings into account; the way she charges head and does what she wants when she wants, all rules be damned; her constant nagging and critiquing of not only her son but also all the young people in her orbit, though not in a grating way like the typical “tiger mom” but rather in a genuinely caring and protective “mama bear” way.  I love how Sutanto portrayed Vera in this realistic, yet nuanced way – on the one hand, Vera is a very traditional Chinese mother, yet on the other hand, she is also mindful of the younger generation’s mainstream cultural phenomena Tik Tok, Google, Buzzfeed, etc.  Indeed, I found the funniest scenes in the story to be those where the younger folks are shocked by Vera’s knack for discerning things that they didn’t think she would understand.  I also laughed so hard at the scenes where the young people in the story are simultaneously flustered and a tiny bit scared of Vera, yet they are also in awe of her and can’t help gravitating toward her, despite the obvious differences in the ways they see the world.  On the surface, the friendship between this elderly Chinese grandma and the young twenty/thirty something characters shouldn’t really work (because of the generation gap and all), but in this story, it not only works, it’s also beautifully rendered.

For me, being familiar with the culture also made this an especially engaging reading experience, as I was able to pick up on things that others might not have – such as the difference between the spelling of Vera’s last name (“Wong” versus “Wang”), for example.  I love being able to recognize these types of little details in stories – like finding Easter eggs – which in my opinion, makes the experience much more fun.

This was a delightful, heartwarming, and absolutely hilarious read – one that I absolutely recommend without question.  I’m looking forward to reading the second Vera Wong book (which I have on my shelf) as well as the Aunties series, which I heard is also excellent.  Sutanto is one of those authors who writes in a variety of genres – from cozy mysteries to thrillers to literary and contemporary fiction, as well as young adult and middle grade books.  I admire authors who are able to write across genres like that, so I’m definitely interested in checking out a few of those books as well.

Review: Sipsworth (by Simon Van Booy)

My Rating: 4 stars

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

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

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

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

Review: The Correspondent (by Virginia Evans)

My Rating: 5 stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Rating: 5 stars

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

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

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

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

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

Review: The Phoenix Pencil Company (by Allison King)

My Rating: 4 stars

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

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

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

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

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

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

 

Review: Run For the Hills (by Kevin Wilson)

My Rating: 4 stars

Whenever I pick up a Kevin Wilson book, I already know that I will be in for a zany and wild ride through a weird yet heartfelt story alongside a cast of characters who are quirky and eccentric, but in a loveably delightful way.  In this instance, the “ride” is a literal one, as the central premise revolves around a road trip that four half-siblings embark upon to locate their long-lost father. 

Madeline “Mad” Hill’s solitary yet “okay” life living on a farm with her mother in Coalfield, Tennessee is suddenly upended when a young man named Reuben (nickname “Rube”) shows up on her doorstep claiming to be her half-brother.  As it turns out, their father, Charles Hill, is a serial abandoner – he walked out on Rube and his mother 30 years ago, changing his name and starting a new life on a farm with Mad’s mother, only to walk out on her and Mad 10 years later.  But Rube and Mad weren’t the only ones abandoned – their father actually did the same thing two more times after them, leaving behind a college-age daughter named Pepper (“Pep” for short) in Oklahoma and an eleven-year-old son named Theron (who goes by “Tom”) in Utah.  Rube invites Mad to accompany him on a cross-country trek to not only find their other siblings, but also try to locate their father so they can confront him and get answers.  Though Mad thinks this is a crazy idea, she ultimately agrees to go with Rube and together, they set off on a road trip unlike any other.  When Rube and Mad locate their other siblings and trade stories about their father, they are shocked to discover that he took on an entirely different persona with each “new life” he started.  These facts about their father, along with other secrets they uncover, deepen the siblings’ determination to find their father and figure out what exactly is going on (and perhaps more importantly – why??).

I will admit that, at first, when I read this outlandish premise, I honestly wasn’t sure if it was going to work, as it sounded a bit too off-the-wall to me.  But then I remembered that this is Kevin Wilson – an author who has the unique talent of taking the zaniest of premises and turning them into fun, delightful, emotionally nuanced stories that may not always be believable, but are always full of humor and heart.  I loved the four siblings at the center of the story and was truly moved by their earnest efforts in trying to navigate their newfound sibling relationship while at the same time reconciling the impact of their father’s actions on their lives.  With that said, I’m not really sure how I feel about the ending – I don’t want to give anything away, so I won’t say too much here, but I think this is an area that would make a good (and interesting) topic of discussion.

Overall, this was an enjoyable and highly entertaining read. Sure, there were some moments where I felt like I had to suspend disbelief somewhat, but those were few and far between – plus there was the emotional payoff that made things worthwhile in the end. I definitely recommend picking this one up, as it makes for a fantastic summer read!

Received ARC from Ecco via NetGalley.

Review: The Postcard (by Anne Berest)

My Rating: 4 stars

This was a unique read for me — not in terms of subject matter of course, as I've read plenty of books over the years about World War II from various perspectives as well as about the Holocaust. Rather, the "uniqueness" of this particular reading experience had to do with the format of the story, which was a combination of historical fiction and autobiography that I honestly had never encountered before. The formatting of the story wasn't exactly seamless, as the switching between first, second, and third person narrative, plus some of the dialogue and wording used made it relatively easy to tell which parts were historical and which parts were biographical. Also, there were quite a few references to exact addresses, dates, titles, and direct quotes/references from research material inserted throughout the story (especially in the first two-thirds of the book) that sometimes made it feel like I was reading a history textbook instead of a novel. Though these things were distracting and did take me out of the story at times, fortunately the storytelling overall was compelling enough that, after awhile, I became absorbed in the story and stopped thinking about the format as much.

The story is actually based on the author Anne Berest's own family history and the mysterious postcard that her mother Lelia received in January 2003 with four names on it: Ephraim, Emma, Noemie, Jacques. Ephraim and Emma Rabinovitch were Lelia's grandparents (her mother Myriam was their eldest daughter), while Noemie and Jacques were her aunt and uncle (Myriam's siblings) — all four of them had died in Auschwitz in 1942. Lelia's mother Myriam had survived the war, but had died 8 years prior (in 1995). The postcard is put away in a drawer and forgotten about until years later, when something happens in Anne's life that moves her to investigate the origins of the postcard (who sent it and why). With the help of her mother Lelia as well as several others, Anne sets out on a journey to piece together her family history in the hopes that it will lead her to the truth.

Given the subject matter, this was undoubtedly a difficult read at times. The scenes describing the atrocities of war and the aftermath were especially hard to stomach, to the point that I had to put the book down for a bit to regain my bearings in order to continue on with the rest of the story. Majority of the story took place in France and there was a lot of detail about the French government's role in helping to perpetuate the Holocaust through their actions of arresting and deporting Jews (oftentimes in collaboration with the Nazi regime in Germany) — which was an interesting angle that I haven't seen explored often.

The novel itself was actually written in French originally, but the English translation was so well done that it was honestly hard to tell (if I hadn't already known going into this one that it was a translation, I would've never guessed). Like I mentioned earlier, this one actually crossed several genres (historical, contemporary, literary, biography, etc.) but the "mystery" at its core, with Anne trying to find out who sent the postcard, was one of the elements that kept me turning the pages. Also, despite the page count (my hard cover version was exactly 475 pages), plus I had figured out early on who sent the postcard and why (I was actually surprised how spot on my theory was), at no point did that diminish my appreciation of the story.

Again, with the heaviness of the subject matter, this was not an easy read by any means and not surprisingly, it did take a bit of an emotional toll on me. Nevertheless, I still recommend this one, as it's both a necessary and timely read given some of the things happening in society currently. I'm glad I ghost the chance to read this and I hope more people will as well.

Review: The Secret Book of Flora Lea (by Patti Callahan Henry)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

This was a captivating story about two sisters who are sent to the English countryside during World War II as part of Operation Pied Piper, a government mission to evacuate children from the cities to keep them safe from bombings.  In 1939, fourteen-year-old Hazel Linden and her five-year-old sister Flora Lea are taken in by the Aberdeen family (Bridie and her teenage son Harry) at their cottage in Binsey, a charming little hamlet along the River Thames. To keep her little sister entertained and also to distract her from the devastating realities of war, Hazel makes up various stories for Flora — one in particular is a fairytale about a secret, magical world called Whisperwood that the sisters could escape to in their imaginations. One day though, while the kids are having a picnic near the river, Flora Lea disappears and when her stuffed bear is found half-buried at the mouth of the river, she is presumed to have drowned.  Devastated and consumed with both grief and guilt for not keeping an eye on her sister, Hazel leaves Binsey, burying her memories of the town and the happy life she had with Flora and the Aberdeens forever. Twenty years later, in 1960, Hazel has rebuilt her life in London, working at a rare book shop and largely putting the past behind her — that is, until the day she unwraps a first edition copy of a book entitled Whisperwood and the River of Stars, written by an American author named Peggy Andrews. Hazel is bewildered, as she never told anyone about the secret world she made up, which only she and her sister knew about.  With a glimmer of hope that her sister might have survived after all, Hazel embarks on a quest to find out the origins of the book, which involves dredging up past hurts as well as revisiting past relationships that she had long left behind.  But as Hazel digs deeper into the past in the hopes of finding the truth about her sister's disappearance, it threatens to unravel the current life that she painstakingly built — a cost that Hazel must decide if she is willing pay, especially as it could ultimately lead to a dead end.

I really enjoyed this charming yet poignant story written by an author whose many works I've heard of but didn't have the chance to read until now.  The beauty of this book is in the way the author, Patti Callahan Henry, takes a made-up, mystical world and combines it so seamlessly with real-life historical events to create a story that felt original and inventive, yet at the same time, also felt informative and authentic to the time period.  I definitely felt transported and immersed in both the world of Whisperwood as well as the countryside setting juxtaposed against the backdrop of the realities of war in the city.  The combination of these elements worked well and also made the story stand out from other works of historical fiction.

This was a book that I couldn't put down as soon as I started reading it.  I was completely invested in the "mystery" of Flora's disappearance and how that related to the Whisperwood book, to the point that I found myself reading late into the night so that I could find out what happens.  While there were moments where I thought I had guessed the "truth" and how the ending would turn out, I was actually surprised time and time again by the turn of events, which made this a compelling read that kept me turning the pages.  I also appreciated how there was a good balance to the story in that it didn't lean overly on being too heavy or too lighthearted, but rather a steady combination of both — a balance that is usually not easy to achieve with stories set against WWII.  To be honest, a story like this one could easily go sideways, but in the hands of this particular author, it was perfect.

It's hard to say too much about this book outside of the basic premise without giving something away, so I will keep this review short and sweet.  I definitely encourage reading this one and letting the delightful story (as well as the endearing characters) sweep you up. Highly recommended! 

Review: Romantic Comedy (by Curtis Sittenfeld)

My Rating:  3 stars



I'm not a huge fan of contemporary romance novels, and rom-coms especially can be a bit of a "hit or miss" for me.  With that said though, I don't mind picking one up now and then as a palate-cleanser in between heavier reads —  which is why, when one of my book clubs put Curtis Sittenfeld's newest rom-com, Romantic Comedy, on my radar, I decided to go for it, even though the premise didn't really appeal to me.  

Structure-wise, the entire book is divided into 3 long chapters. Chapter 1  revolves around "The Night Owls" (a late night live comedy show similar to SNL) storyline, where one of the sketch writers, Sally Milz, meets handsome pop star Noah Brewster when he guests hosts for one week and they collaborate on a series of sketches for the show.  Chapter 2 takes place almost 2 years later and is told in an epistolary format, consisting of email correspondence between Noah and Sally. Chapter 3, of course, is where Noah and Sally finally hook up and become a couple.

For me, even though chapter 1 was the most interesting arc in the entire story (and hewed closest to the premise), it took me quite a while to get into it.  I think this was mostly because, nowadays, I don't watch a whole lot of English-language TV shows anymore (I used to watch TONS when I was growing up), plus I've never really been a fan of SNL (I can't even remember the last time I watched an episode of the show…maybe decades ago?), so much of what went on during this chapter felt a bit tedious to me (not to mention I most likely didn't catch any of the pop culture references to the real SNL show, so the entire arc was less meaningful to me).  I actually enjoyed chapter 2 a lot more, probably because I have an affinity for the epistolary storytelling format (it's one of my favorite formats), for one, and two, I like reading fun, witty banter and there was plenty of that in this section.  Chapter 3 was run-of-the-mill romance stuff, which was fine, but not really my jam (oh and just a heads up that this section does get a bit "spicy" in places, in case that matters to those who decide to pick this up).  When it comes down to it, I think what I ended up enjoying the most from the entire story was the "girl power" friendship between Sally, Vivian, and Henrietta, and how they were always there for each other through everything, which I found to be very moving (though yes, their hilarious banter back-and-forth cracked me up as well).

Overall, this was a quick, entertaining read, and both fun as well as funny in places, but I think this was written more for a niche audience (fans of SNL, for example), who will likely enjoy and appreciate this story way more than I did.

Review: Banyan Moon (by Thao Thai)

My Rating:  5 stars

I've been reading quite a few new releases the last couple of months and while many of those I enjoyed immensely (majority have been 4 and 4.5 star reads thankfully), I had yet to come across one that I could truly categorize as a 5 star level "this book blew me away" type read (so far this year, I've rated 2 books 5 stars, but both were backlist reads).  Well, heading into summer reading season, I'm happy to report that I've finally come across my first 5 star read among the plentiful 2023 new releases — Thao Thai's spectacular debut novel Banyan Moon (scheduled for publication in June).  

There was so much to unpack with this book, I'm honestly not sure where to begin.  Perhaps the best place to start would be what attracted me to this book in the first place — as soon as I read the premise, especially the following last paragraph, I knew that this was a book I abs had to read:   Spanning decades and continents, from 1960s Vietnam to the wild swamplands of the Florida coast, Banyan Moon is a stunning and deeply moving story of mothers and daughters, the things we inherit, and the lives we choose to make out of that inheritance."  

First of all, I love sweeping family sagas, but in particular, I'm drawn to stories about mother/daughter relationships.  Part of the reason I gravitate toward these types of stories is because I have a complicated relationship with my own mother, so I'm constantly on the lookout for books that explore this — particularly between Asian mothers and daughters, as there are usually familiar cultural dynamics involved that inform these relationships, which can hopefully help me make sense of my own.  

To be honest, reading this book was like a gut punch for me because I resonated so deeply with each of the 3 main characters — Minh (grandmother and family matriarch), Huong (Minh's daughter and Ann's mother), and Ann (Minh's granddaughter, Huong's daughter, and herself about to become a mother) — and the various misunderstandings and disagreements that defined their relationship with each other. I understood Ann's feeling of being adrift and floating and not really knowing what she wanted to do with her life, only that she wanted to escape from the perpetual tension that always existed when she was in her mother's presence.  I also understood Huong's feelings of inadequacy — both as a mother and as a daughter — and feeling like she had no choice but to resign herself to a life that reflected what others wanted rather than what she actually wanted.  And yes, I also understood Minh's struggle, why she became the overbearing force to be reckoned with in the family, and what necessitated her urge to protect her granddaughter at all costs.  So many of the dynamics that were at play between these three women felt so familiar to me, as they reflected some of my experiences and struggles with my own family over the years:  for instance: the inability to communicate our true feelings no matter how hard we try, and then being bogged down by endless guilt and regret that never truly goes away; the resentment and hurt built up from a lifetime of letting fear and desperation dictate our words and actions, resulting in us saying things to each other that we may not really mean, but that end up dealing irreparable damage to our relationships; and for me, this one was the most poignant and heartbreaking — the constant struggle with understanding the different ways to love someone and the impossibility of choosing a "right" or "wrong" way to love (especially where family is concerned).  As an indication of how deeply this story resonated with me — during various points as I was reading, I actually had to set the book down in order to wipe away tears that seemed to appear of their own accord. 

Another thing that blew me away with this book was the writing. I love beautiful prose and this one definitely had plenty of it!  When I read fiction, I tend to read straight through without marking up any passages because I don't want to break up the flow of the story, but in this instance, I couldn't help myself — some of the passages, in articulating the complexities of the relationship between the 3 generations of Tran women, also described my own feelings so precisely that I just had to mark them for rereading and reflection later.  

One other thing I wanted to mention is the format of the narrative, which, except for the first chapter, alternated between the perspectives of Minh, Huong, and Ann, both in the present day as well as going back to the past.  This format was powerful, I felt, as juxtaposing the three women's stories in this way not only helped us see how each navigated her role as daughters (which is important because of how much these experiences shaped their future roles as mothers), but it also helped us to see how similar some of their motivations were, yet how differently their lives turned out based on the choices they made. 

As I mentioned earlier, there is a lot to unpack with this one and the above only touches upon a few of my initial thoughts about certain aspects of the story that resonated with me, which of course only scratches the surface of what this book is about.  This is why I'm so glad that one of my book clubs chose this as a monthly read, as I now have an excuse to go back and reread this in preparation for the discussion.  Definitely looking forward to it!

Received ARC from Mariner Books via BookBrowse First Impressions program.

Review: No Two Persons (by Erica Bauermeister)

My Rating: 4 stars

I read Erica Bauermeister's previous novel The Scent Keeper a couple years ago and absolutely adored that book.  Two of the things I had loved about that book were the story itself (with its unique structure, interesting subject matter, and fascinating characters) as well as the gorgeously lyrical and immersive writing.  Given this experience, it's probably no surprise that when I was approved for an ARC of Bauermeister's newest work No Two Persons, I was ecstatic knowing that I would be in for another mesmerizing read.  While in the end, the experience was a little different from what I expected, I still really enjoyed this one overall.

In this book, Bauermeister once again employs a unique structure — this time, through a series of linked short stories — to explore the impact that one book has on 10 different people, starting with the young author who writes the book, Alice Wein.  Each story presents characters from different walks of life who are struggling in some way (whether it's with love, relationships, grief, illness, financial insecurity, etc.) but then they encounter Alice's book, simply titled Theo, which opens the door to a different perspective — and in some cases, a much-needed path forward — for each person.  I found it fascinating how Bauermeister was able to weave Theo so seamlessly into each character's story and adapt it to meet the situation they were in.  As I was reading each story, I knew Theo was going to make an appearance somehow, but I didn't know when or how, which made me want to keep reading to find out (and then marveling to myself afterwards how brilliant each instance was).  Each story also gave us insight into Theo's plot and while we never got the full story arc of course, enough details were revealed that it made me wish it were a real book, as it was one that I'd definitely be interested in reading. 

As an avid reader, I definitely resonated with the messages in this book — that no two persons will read the same book in the same way; that certain books have a way of meeting the reader where they're at in their lives; that some books have the power to change lives, but sometimes, we need to be willing to let them in and give them a chance.  In that sense, this was also an ode to books and reading, which I absolutely appreciated.  

The other thing I really liked about this book was the writing, which was beautiful and lyrical, similar to what I saw in The Scent Keeper.  I also found it refreshing that this book was written from the third person perspective — which normally wouldn't matter to me, but because most of the books I've read lately were written from the first person point of view, it was nice to finally read something where I got to see things from all the different characters' perspectives instead of having to remain in one character's head through the entire story. 

My one complaint — which I always have with short story collections (though more accurately speaking, this was actually a "novel in stories" where various characters cross over into each other's story) — is that each story is incomplete, so we only get glimpses into each character's background.  This made it hard to form a connection with the characters, which is important for me seeing how much I love character- driven stories — though having some of the stories be linked to each other (i.e. the writer, the agent, the publishing assistant for the same book all have their own stories) as well as having some of the characters "pass through" each other's stories did help.

Overall, I enjoyed this one immensely, though I didn't love it the way I did The Scent Keeper. Having said that, I still highly recommend this one, especially with its interesting structure and the way it explores various life situations that will likely resonate with many readers. I also think that people who love books and recognize the importance of reading will really appreciate this one.

Received ARC from St. Martin's Press via NetGalley.

Review: Fault Lines (by Emily Itami)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

 

It's not often that I make the decision to buy a book based on it's cover, but in the case of Emily Itami's debut novel Fault Lines, the cover art – a dark blue image of Tokyo's skyscape at night, overlaid by beautiful pink cherry blossoms -- was so gorgeous that I couldn't resist having it on my bookshelf so I could pull it out and look at it whenever I wanted.  I did end up checking out the plot summary after I bought the book and while it's one I was definitely interested in reading, I couldn't didn't jump in right away due to the LONG list of books I already had lined up that I needed to get to.   So of course, when one of my book clubs chose this book for their April selection, I was more than delighted to be given the excuse to finally get around to reading it (though not without some reservations about whether I would feel the same about the story as I did about the cover).  Now after having finished, I am happy to report that I really enjoyed the story, which I found to be by turns both delightful and thought- provoking.

 

At the center of the story is Mizuki, a Japanese housewife and mother of two young children (a 10-year-old daughter and 4-year-old son) who, after more than a decade of marriage, has fallen into a resigned complacency of sorts where her days are spent washing the dishes, folding the laundry, taking care of the kids, and being invisible to her extremely hardworking husband who oftentimes can't even be bothered to look at her when he's at home because he is too busy taking care of work matters on his phone.  One day, standing on the balcony of the glamorous high-rise apartment in Tokyo where she lives with her family, Mizuki has the sudden urge to throw herself over the railing.  She doesn't succeed in killing herself of course (not a spoiler), but the incident makes her realize just how mundane and depressing her life has become.  She loves her children deeply, but also yearns for the emotional connection that she used to have with her husband, Tatsuya, back early in their courtship and marriage, when she used to feel seen and appreciated as a partner.  So it is that when she meets Kiyoshi, a charismatic and hugely successful restauranteur, she is drawn to his easy-going nature and they become good friends.  When she's with Kiyoshi, Mizuki is reminded of the person she used to be – funny, charming, and perfectly happy roaming around the city she loves, admiring the sights and sounds, eating good food, and having meaningful conversation with someone who understands her and genuinely cares about her.  But as their relationship deepens, Mizuki finds it more and more difficult to reconcile her devotion to her family and the obligations of motherhood with the happy, carefree existence she has with Kiyoshi. 

 

The entire story is told from Mizuki's first person of view, which I felt worked really well in this instance, as it made her struggles more real and heartfelt.  But I think what helped the most was the author Emily Itami's thoughtful and sensitive, yet entirely realistic portrayal of Mizuki as an ordinary woman struggling with universally relatable issues such as marriage, motherhood, family expectations, societal norms, etc. Itami presents Mizuki in a way that is sincere and honest, helping us understand the character completely through the good moments as well as the bad ones so we can make sense of why Mizuki makes the decisions she does – the effect of this, for me, was that even though I didn't agree with some of those decisions, I couldn't help empathizing with Mizuki and rooting for her along the way. 

Another aspect I really appreciated about the story was how emotionally resonant it ended up being.  I'm not married and I don't have children, yet I was still able to relate to Mizuki's struggle with understanding and reconciling her life choices with the reality of how her life turned out. I resonated especially with Mizuki's conflicting feelings toward her identity and culture — more specifically, feeling bound by the constraints of cultural and societal expectations in her various roles as wife, mother, daughter, friend, etc., yet when the opportunity to be free of these bounds arises, feeling hesitant to take the first step out of fear of what the change might bring.  The beauty of this story is in its nuanced commentary on life and what it means to be a woman in contemporary Asian society.

One thing to note with this story is that, plot-wise, nothing much actually happens — instead, through Mizuki's experiences, we are treated to atmospheric and mesmerizing observations of a city that we get to know intimately by the end of the book. I've always wanted to visit Tokyo (it's one of my bucket list destinations) and after reading this book, that desire has grown even stronger.  Perhaps someday that will become a reality— in the meantime, I don't mind revisiting through the various descriptions in this book.

Review: Unlikely Animals (by Annie Hartnett)

My Rating:  4.5 stars



Annie Hartnett's Unlikely Animals is a quirky, unique, interesting story – the likes of which I can honestly say that I've never read before.  I'm actually not sure if I'll be able to describe the "uniqueness" of this story accurately – I will certainly try, but I recommend reading this one yourself to get the full experience of it.

 

On the surface, this sounds like a perfectly ordinary "small-town homecoming" story where the main protagonist Emma Starling decides to return home to her family in Everton, New Hampshire after having dropped out of med school in California.   Having lost her way, Emma was hoping to escape back to her hometown to "figure things out" and put her life back on track, which turns out to be easier said than done given what she has to face upon arrival:  her judgmental mother Ingrid who doesn't seem to approve of anything she does; her younger brother Auggie, whom Emma has always been at odds with growing up, with their relationship deteriorating even further after Auggie's recent stint in rehab; and her father Clive, who is dying from a degenerative brain disease that causes him to hallucinate not just small animals, but also the ghost of a long-dead naturalist, Ernest Harold Baynes.  But that's not all….Emma is also shocked to find out that her best friend from high school, Crystal Nash, has been missing for months, but with the local police writing the case off due to Crystal's drug use prior to her disappearance, no one is making an effort to find her – that is, except for Emma's dad Clive, who remains steadfast in his belief that Crystal must still be alive and so spends most of his days putting up missing persons posters all around town.  What ensues is a series of events that come together and form a story that is both poignant and wistful, yet also funny and heartwarming, all at the same time. 

 

One of the things that made this story so unique was Harnett's ability to combine the realistic and the fanciful to such great effect.  On the one hand, there were characters who felt so real, with their universally relatable struggles, having to deal with real-life issues such as drug addiction, infidelity, terminal illness, parental expectations and judgment, strained friendships, sibling rivalry, the ups and downs of relationships in general, etc. – basically ordinary people dealing with familiar situations that so many of us could resonate with.  Yet on the other hand, there were also fantastical elements that were more than a little "magical" – such as a character hallucinating small animals and having conversations with a ghost, a cute pet fox that is friendly with humans and acts more like a dog than a fox, a giant white dog that thinks and acts more like a human than a dog, and most amusing of all, an entire story narrated by the spirits of a bunch of dead folks from their "forever resting place" at the Maple Street Cemetery (this was my absolute favorite element of the story).

Genre-wise, this felt like a mashup that didn't really fit neatly in any one category.  In addition to the fantasy / magical realism and contemporary fiction elements mentioned earlier, there were also elements of mystery / suspense (what happened to Crystal and the ongoing search for her), historical fiction (the story of nineteen-century robber-baron Austin Corbin, the real-life Ernest Harold Baynes, who was a naturalist once employed at the park bearing Corbin's name, and the real animals that Harold and his wife lived with during their lifetime), and some romance (a very minor element in the story).  In her Author's Note (which is a must-read) as well as in interviews, Hartnett talked about how some of the scenes in the book were based on "scraps" from her real life (such as the deer scene for example or her own experience as a sixth grade teacher when she was twenty two) — so there were some biographical elements mixed in as well!

This was a story with both humor and heart that I'm absolutely glad I got the chance to read (thank goodness for book club, as I probably wouldn't have picked this one up otherwise).  Having enjoyed this book as much as I did, I've also put Hartnett's debut novel, Rabbit Cake, on my TBR — definitely something to look forward to in the future. 

 

Review: Becoming Duchess Goldblatt (by Anonymous)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

Let me say up front that I don't care much for social media.  Yes, I do have accounts on all the major platforms, but I created those more out of necessity than anything else.  I guess you can say that I "tolerate" social media in that I use when it when I have to (for example — to connect with a friend or distant relative or to research or get information on something), but outside of that I rarely post anything and rarely interact with anyone.  For the record, I have nothing against social media itself — it's more that the experience is not for me, as I find the pressure of constantly having to "keep up" with the trends and conversations on there extremely exhausting and stressful, and I basically have neither time nor patience for any of it.

Given the above, it should probably come as no surprise that I had never heard of the fictional Internet personality Duchess Goldblatt prior to reading this book.  In fact, this book probably would never have come onto my radar if one of my book clubs hadn't chosen it as a monthly read.   This is actually a memoir by an anonymous author who writes about how she came to create an alter ego on social media that is so beloved across legions of her devoted fans.  The author encountered a lot of loss and tragedy in her life and in efforts to parse her grief (not to mention the incredible loneliness she felt at the time), she created Duchess Goldblatt on a whim, not expecting the character to attract as much attention as it did.  Indeed, the Duchess can count among her followers many famous names in the literary community, such as Elizabeth McCracken, Alexander Chee, Benjamin Dreyer, Celeste Ng, Laura Lippman, etc.  But for the author, one of the most meaningful experiences that Duchess Goldblatt gave her was the opportunity to develop a close friendship with her real-life long-time idol, singing legend Lyle Lovett.   The author's candid conversations with Lyle (both as herself and as Duchess Goldblatt) were a lot of fun to read and I felt that's one of the things that made this book so special.  

Overall, I found this to be an interesting read.  I appreciated the candor with which the author recounted key moments of her life and the various struggles she went through.  There were parts that I resonated with deeply and wholeheartedly— such as this paragraph where the author's boss calls her into the office to praise her for doing a great job at work:  "Outperforming other people is of no interest to me.  It certainly doesn't motivate me.  If anything, it makes me feel a little guilty. I was raised not to show off, not to be proud, not to draw attention to myself.  I don't like people looking at me or standing too close. Compliments make me uncomfortable.  My greatest childhood dream was to be an author whom everyone would read but no one would look at directly, but I couldn't figure out a way to write books without people knowing my name."  I love this quote because it describes my exact sentiments as well.  I also related to the insecurities and vulnerabilities that the author felt about herself, as I struggled with these at various points in my life as well.  With all that said, the parts I didn't enjoy as much were the quotes and excerpts from the Duchess Goldblatt social media accounts — don't get me wrong, I liked the concept of it and I definitely appreciated the author for creating something that gave so much joy and comfort to so many people, but for me personally, the excerpts were distracting. Basically, I preferred to read about the author herself (this is a memoir after all) more than about her fictional Internet persona.  

Even though this one turned out different than I expected, I'm still glad I read it, as it was a pretty unique experience overall.   Given the author's desire to remain anonymous, I admire her willingness to share her personal story with so many people (I know I wouldn't be able to do it for sure).  I wish her the best of luck!