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 Things We Never Say (by Elizabeth Strout)

My Rating: 5 stars

I didn’t think that I could love another Elizabeth Strout character as much as I love Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton but gosh darn it, Artie Dam has definitely earned a place at the top alongside my two favorite characters from the Strout universe!

On the outside, Artie seems to live a happy life – he has a teaching job he loves, a son he adores, a wife with whom he has spent more than three decades, friends and neighbors he often hangs out with, and so much more.  Yet on the inside, Artie struggles with a profound sense of loneliness – a feeling that is compounded by the anxiety he feels about the chaotic state of the world (the story takes place around the time of the 2024 election) – all of which combine to push him into what seems to him like a perpetual state of despair and gloominess.  Outwardly though, Artie is his usual self – humorous, kind, intelligent, and always making a difference to those around him (especially his students) in one way or another. When Artie discovers a secret that has been kept from him for many years, he is forced to re-examine his life, his relationships, and the people closest to him, leading him to question how it is possible to not actually know someone despite being so close to them for so long.

As is her style, Strout writes movingly yet realistically about the human condition, with its many trials and tribulations, mundanities and cruelties, and both its beauty and ugliness which, more often than not, can co-exist in surprising ways.  On an emotional level, I understood Artie in ways I didn’t expect – specifically, his ponderings about relationships and our inability to know each other, even with our closest, most intimate family members.  I’ve honestly felt this way with my own family on numerous occasions and as I reflect upon my own relationships with them, I realize how applicable Artie’s sentiment truly is.  I also can’t help but marvel at how very aptly the title of the book ties into the story – which, at its core, really is about all the things we never say, whether it’s because we “can’t” or “won’t” say them.

One thing I do have to mention (which I kind of alluded to already earlier in my review) is that our current political situation plays quite a huge role in the story.  Now, I’m not normally keen on books that incorporate politics into the story, especially contemporary politics, and usually this is a dealbreaker for me – but this book ended up being an exception.  The reason is not because it was written by one of my favorite authors, but rather, the way that the political situation was incorporated made sense within the context of the story and its characters (and it was not heavy-handed, which I appreciate).  Of course, everyone’s tolerance of this will be different, which is fine, but I personally did not have a problem with it.

With her latest novel, Strout presents us with an entirely new cast of characters (and a new setting too, as this story is set in Massachusetts rather than her usual go-to of Maine) and I ended up loving this one so much more than her previous novel Tell Me Everything (which I enjoyed, but not as wholeheartedly, as the main highlight of that book for me was the long-awaited meeting between Olive and Lucy, but that was only a small portion of the story) – perhaps because this time around, I was fully invested in not just the story, but also all the characters (both the main characters and the supporting ones).  Though with all that said, there IS an Olive-related easter egg in the story, though it’s subtle and can be easy to miss (especially for those who may not be familiar with Strout’s previous works), so Olive fans definitely keep an eye out. 

As I was putting my thoughts together for this review, it dawned on me that many of my most favorite contemporary authors (Elizabeth Strout, Ann Patchett, Fredrik Backman, Lisa See, just to name a few) have something in common that is one (though not the only) reason why I love them so much:  they all have the distinct ability to write about the human condition in ways that resonate and really hit home.  Though I’m not sure if there will be another Artie book (there might not be given what happens in the story), I still look forward to encountering these characters again at some point.  Either way though, one thing is for sure and that is, I will continue to read whatever Elizabeth Strout writes, no matter what!

Review: This is the Story of a Happy Marriage (by Ann Patchett)

My Rating: 5 stars

Ann Patchett is one of my favorite authors, so it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that I will pretty much read anything she writes.  After finishing Tom Lake back in 2023, I’ve been slowly working my way through Patchett’s backlist and recently finished her 2013 essay collection, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, which I listened to on audio – a wonderful experience in and of itself, since she narrates the audiobook herself. 

Despite what the title says, this collection of essays actually covers a variety of topics – yes, her marriage to Karl is talked about at length, but there are also essays about everything from her relationship with her grandmother, to her friendship with the late Lucy Grealy and the reception of the book she wrote about her (Truth and Beauty), to her closeness with one of the nuns who had taught her in school.  There are also essays about her dog, about how she came to co-own the bookshop Parnassus in Nashville, about her experience “training” in the police academy so she could write about it (her father is a retired LAPD officer), as well as the introduction she wrote as the editor of the 2006 volume of The Best American Short Stories (among many other essays).  Though I loved all of the essays in this collection, if I had to pick a favorite, it would definitely be “The Getaway Car,” which is Patchett’s manifesto about writing – the tips that she gives in this brilliant essay are absolutely invaluable, which also makes this a must-read for all writers, whether aspiring or seasoned.

One thing to note -- this is a compilation of essays that Patchett wrote for various publications over the years, but they are not in chronological order, so technically you can skip around if you want, especially if you already read a particular essay when it was first published (though for me, I still read the collection straight through from beginning to end, regardless of whether I had read an essay previously or not).  With that said, I would actually advocate for reading all of the essays in this collection due to the multifaceted nature of the essays, which, combined as a whole, provides a fascinating glimpse into Patchett’s world and especially helps those of us who are fans of her work better understand who she is not just as a writer, but also as a person.

This is a collection I absolutely recommend, whether you’re an occasional reader of Patchett’s work or a superfan like me – and of course, if you decide to pick this up, the audiobook is definitely the way to go, as there is something about listening to Patchett narrate her own essays that elevates the reading experience.

Review: Northanger Abbey (by Jane Austen)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

With this month being the 250^th anniversary of Jane Austen’s birth, the Austen fangirl in me of course could not pass up the opportunity to celebrate such an important milestone with an Austen-themed read-a-thon of my own (not to mention this gives me the chance to finally work my way through a few of the dozens upon dozens of Austen-related books that I’ve accumulated over the years). 

To kick off my reading celebration, I decided to start with the only novel of Austen’s that I had not yet read: Northanger Abbey.  In making this decision, the first order of business, naturally, was figuring out which version of the book I would be reading, since, like many English Literature majors who are also superfans of Austen’s works, I own several different editions of all her novels -- ultimately, I opted for the version annotated by David M. Shapard.  This is actually my first time reading a fully annotated version of a novel and I’m so glad I made this choice because it really elevated and enhanced the reading experience for me.  As the type of reader who enjoys learning about historical and other background context in my reading (especially when it comes to aspects of a story that I find interesting), an annotated version is right up my alley in that it allows me to indulge in all the nerdy delight of going down literary rabbit holes (though the downside, of course, is that it does take me longer to get through the book).

Northanger Abbey is the first of Austen’s six novels to reach fully finished, ready-for-publication form, though ironically, it was one of the last of her novels to be published, coming out together with her last complete novel Persuasion after her death.  As her first novel, Northanger Abbey can be considered Austen’s bildungsroman, or coming-of-age novel, that serves as the bridge between the juvenilia she wrote in her youth and the more intricately complex and nuanced maturity of her later works.  It is perhaps because NA was written so early in Austen’s career -- along with the fact that the novel had already been submitted for publication many years before it was actually published (she had submitted it to a publisher in 1803 who never did anything with it, so her brother bought the rights back and published the novel 14 years later, in 1817) – that it lacks some of the subtle wit and sophisticated sardonic humor of say, Pride and Prejudice (my favorite of her works).  In comparisons, the humor here is more straightforward, as Austen makes it pretty clear that she wrote this book as a parody of the “novel” – specifically the Gothic novel (or what was referred to as “sentimental novels” during that time). That said, as someone who has read and studied the form, I must say that the way Austen parodies Gothic novels in here (the focus is mostly on Ann Radcliff’s The Mysteries of Udolpho, which makes sense given that Radcliff is the “godmother” of the form) is nothing short of brilliant.  Throughout Northanger Abbey, Austen subtly compares and contrasts the heroine and hero, Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney, with the heroine and hero typically depicted in Gothic novels to produce a satiric juxtaposition that is both clever and ironic.

Speaking of the main heroine and hero – the Catherine Morland / Henry Tilney pairing is now officially my third favorite pairing in Austen’s novels (after Lizzy / Darcy at #1 and Anne / Wentworth at #2).  I honestly didn’t think I would like Catherine much at first, as I’m not a fan of naïve (aka meek, ignorant, childish, weak, etc.) characters and that had been largely how I had heard Catherine described in much of the scholarship around the novel – but after finally reading this novel myself, I’ve found that those descriptions of her don’t do her justice.  Yes, there were quite a few instances where she acts immaturely and her naivete gets the better of her (she is only 17 years old in the novel, after all, and lived a pretty sheltered life before her experiences in Bath), but what I appreciate about her character is that she grows and evolves and ultimately learns from her mistakes.  Also, she is one of the few heroines who doesn’t get “duped” by the obvious villainous suitor (the iteration in this story being John Thorpe) – one of my favorite scenes is in Chapter XIII of Volume I when Thorpe (and his annoying sister Isabella) try to force Catherine into canceling her appointment with the Tilneys through backhanded power plays, but instead of falling for it (which would be the expected reaction due to her lack of experience in “seeing through” people), she literally (and physically) defies them and runs after the Tilneys to clear things up (I actually yelled out “you go girl!!!” during that scene, lol).

Regarding Henry Tilney – let me just say that he is one of the wittiest heroes in all of Austen’s novels.  I love the fact that he can be witty and engaging and fun yet also serious and level-headed when he needs to be.  And yes, he has one of the best lines in the entire book – in response to Catherine’s assertion that men don’t read novels (because that is what John Thorpe told her when he dismissed her reading habits earlier), Henry responds with: “The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.” That response alone is enough to endear him to me forever, lol!

Lastly, I want to comment on my rating for this book.  As I mentioned in my previous reviews of Austen’s works, all her novels honestly deserve 5 stars in my book (and the reality is that I have rated all her novels as such except Mansfield Park, my least favorite of her works, which I still rated 4.5 stars).  My biggest complaint with Northanger Abbey is that the ending is super rushed and it also doesn’t address the fates of the supporting characters – specifically the “villain” characters such as the annoyingly duplicitous Thorpes – which makes the story overall a little less satisfying because for me, part of the “fun” of reading Austen is to see these characters get their comeuppance.  That doesn’t really happen in this case -- at least not to the extent that Austen does so in her later novels, which I would say is the one main blemish with this book that caused me to rate it 4.5 stars (which, of course, is still very high).

What a great way to kick off my Austen reading month!  Can’t wait to continue my immersion in the world of Austen in the coming weeks!

Review: Heart the Lover (by Lily King)

My Rating: 5 stars

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

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

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

Review: My Friends (by Fredrik Backman)

My Rating: 5 stars

This year has been a chaotic one for me: in addition to being super busy at work, I’ve also had some family issues I had to take care of, plus my own health issues I had to attend to – on top of all that, I’m on the final stretch of my Master’s degree journey, taking several classes all at once so I can finish in time to graduate in September.  With so much going on, my “leisure” reading life has unfortunately taken a hit, resulting in me falling behind on my reading goals. While I have been able to squeeze in a few books here and there, I haven’t been able to read as much as I would like.  With that said however, I hope to be back in full force come September, as I will be done with school and everything else should be sorted out by then.

Now even though I’ve been so busy, that has not stopped me from making time to read the latest novel from one of my all-time favorite authors, Fredrik Backman.  Yes, Backman has another book out (released this month, in fact) called My Friends and it is SPECTACTULAR!  I honestly don’t have words to express how much I love this book (though I guess the fact that I got 4 different versions of this book – including a signed version!!! -- is proof enough?)

As is the case with all of Backman’s novels, this one is absolutely an emotional roller coaster where I found myself laughing hysterically one minute and bawling like a baby the next.  In his signature style, Backman takes us on a poignant, heartfelt journey of 4 teenaged friends who form an unbreakable bond so deep and powerful that it ends up changing the life of a complete stranger 25 years later.  In all of Backman’s novels, the emotional core of the story lies in the characters, all of whom are tremendously flawed, with lives that are messy and oftentimes dysfunctional, yet you can’t help falling in love with them and rooting for them regardless of what happens.  I don’t know how he does it, but with all his characters, Backman is always able to capture the essence of what it means to be human, and portray human relationships in a way that resonates deeply and emotionally.  To me, his characters are always so real and yes, always, always unforgettable!

Those who are familiar with Backman’s style already know that this will be a story that is at once heartwarming yet also heart-wrenching.  In this story, there is sadness and pain, violence and heartbreak, loss and suffering, yet there is also hope and healing, resilience and redemption, humor and warmth, and yes, loads of laughter and love.

If you believe in finding hope even in the face of loss and suffering, if you believe in finding humor in the most unexpected of places, if you believe in the transformative power of art to connect people across generations, but most of all, if you believe in the ability of deep and unwavering friendship to heal wounds and transcend the worst impulses of human behavior, then you need to pick up this book.  Read this one with an open heart, but also have a box of Kleenex by your side because you will definitely need it!

Received ARC from Atria Books via NetGalley.

Review: Rental House (by Weike Wang)

 

My Rating: 4.5 stars

A couple weeks ago, I had made a plan to take advantage of the vacation time I would have during the last two weeks of December to catch up on as many 2024 reads as possible. While I realize now in hindsight that this plan was a bit too ambitious given all the family obligations I had around the holidays, I’m glad I put in the effort because even though I won’t get through as much as I had planned, at least I’m making a decent dent to my TBR pile.
 

One of the books that I have been looking forward to reading ever since I found out about it is Rental House, Weike Wang’s third novel that she wrote during the pandemic. I loved her previous novel, Joan is Okay, which resonated with me deeply and was a 5-star read for me, so of course it’s no surprise that this new book was high on my list of must-reads.  I finally got around to reading the book this week and I’m definitely glad I did.  At only 213 pages, this slim novel is a quick read, but yet, one that also packs a punch.

 

In Rental House, Wang presents a marriage between two people from completely opposite ends of the cultural divide.  Keru was born in China, but immigrated to the United States with her parents as a child and despite having completely assimilated into American culture (including becoming a citizen through naturalization), she is still viewed as “foreign” by many people, including her own in-laws.  Keru’s parents, who are strict and demanding (as most immigrant Chinese parents are), expect perfection at every turn and believe that only through endless striving and struggle can immigrants such as themselves gain success in a country not of one’s origin. Nate is white and from a rural Appalachian, working-class family that distrusts intellect and striving as a means to get ahead and instead believes that those in a position of wealth (including the government) should be expected to help them out.  Despite being from two disparate cultures, Keru and Nate marry after college and instead of having kids, decide to raise a sheepdog whom they name Mantou (which means “steamed bun” in Chinese).  The book is divided into two parts, with part 1 being about a vacation in Cape Cod with Keru and Nate as well as both sets of in-laws (albeit separately – Keru’s parents visit first, then Nate’s parents), while part 2 takes place 5 years later, with Keru and Nate vacationing in the Catskills, this time without either set of in-laws (though their presence is still hugely felt despite not being there physically).  The story essentially chronicles the culture clash that ensues as Keru and Nate navigate a life together while simultaneously having to deal with the differences between their families.

 

As a Chinese American woman, I always feel seen whenever I read Weike Wang’s works – more than when I read other works by Chinese/Chinese American authors – probably because of how realistically she is able to portray the Chinese American experience in a modern-day setting.  I love how Wang captures the nuances of the Chinese American experience so perfectly and precisely every time – though in Rental House, the differences are more out in the open due to the juxtaposition of the two main characters who are from such disparate and opposite backgrounds. Given my own background, I especially resonated with Keru’s struggles: the pressure that her Chinese immigrant parents place on her to achieve success, with this success in turn being used as justification that her parents’ sacrifices were not in vain; the never-ending identity struggle that comes with being caught between two disparate cultures; constantly having to weigh the necessity of assimilation against the risk of losing her own cultural identity; and the nagging feeling that, even when she does everything right (works hard, gains prestige and wealth through a respected, high-paying job), it is somehow never going to be enough.  Most of all though, I resonated deeply with the way Keru behaves in the presence of her parents, especially her mother. Growing up with my background, I’ve found that one of the biggest things that my non-Asian friends have the hardest time understanding is the relationship dynamic between the Chinese mother and her children (sons to a certain extent but especially daughters).  In the face of relentless criticism from our Chinese mothers, the most common question that Chinese daughters such as myself get asked is why do we behave the way we do in front of our mothers and furthermore, why do we allow our mothers to treat us this way in the first place.  What those who ask this question fail to understand is that, for Chinese mothers, criticism (especially toward Chinese daughters) is their love language – it’s something so ingrained and such a natural element of the Chinese parent/child relationship that, when we’re in each other’s presence, we automatically slot into our roles without even realizing it.  Weike Wang is one of the few Chinese American authors I’ve read who is able to convey this dynamic so well on the page and I love her for it!

 

With all that said, my favorite novel of Wang’s is still Joan is Okay, but this newest one isn’t too far behind.  I will pretty much read anything Wang writes at this point, and I’m hoping her next novel won’t take too long to come out.

 

Also, one last thing I want to put out there: as those who are familiar with Weike Wang’s works probably know, her style is not for everyone.  She writes with a wry, ironic wit in a snarky, dead-pan style that is oftentimes misunderstood, perhaps because she is unapologetic about portraying her main protagonists in all their quirky, eccentric, realistically flawed glory, which may not work for all audiences.  Her books also tend to be heavily character-driven and not only lack a coherent plot, but also lean more toward “slice-of-life vignette” territory where parts of the story may feel abrupt or incomplete.  This kind of style may not work for all readers, so it’s important to keep this in mind when deciding whether to pick this one up.

Review: Tell Me Everything (by Elizabeth Strout)

My Rating: 4 stars 

I’ve been in a bit of a weird reading slump lately.  I use the word “weird” because even though I’ve actually been reading – quite a bit, to be honest – I’ve been finding it difficult to “get into” what I read.  I guess the best way to put it is that I’ve been finding it hard to focus – essentially, I would read a paragraph, a page even, but then a few seconds later, I would have no idea what I just read, so I would go back and re-read.  The result is that it is taking me way longer than usual to finish a book, which is definitely not good considering the number of books on my list that I still need to get to.  Given that I’ve been super busy with both work and school (and family) the past few months especially, I suspect that I might just be burned out from everything I have going on.  Hopefully, as things start to wind down in the next few months and I am finally able to squeeze in some much-needed vacation time to recharge, I will be able to get my reading life back on track.  In the meantime, I will just need to push through the best I can.

 

One of the books I read during this time is Elizabeth Strout’s newest novel Tell Me Everything.  Strout is one of my favorite authors, so I’ve been looking forward to this one for quite some time.  While I did enjoy this one overall, I will admit to having a hard time getting into it for at least the first third of the novel.  I did eventually find my rhythm however, and I’m glad I did, since two of my favorite characters from the Elizabeth Strout universe – Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton -- finally meet and interact in this novel. Since the previous few Strout novels have been about Lucy, I was honestly beginning to miss Olive, so I was delighted to see that she has a significant presence in this novel (she is now 91 years old and living in a center for seniors, but she is the same old Olive – as sharp and loveably acerbic as ever!).  Lucy is introduced to Olive by Bob Burgess (yes, the same Bob from The Burgess Boys) and the two end up meeting frequently to share stories with each other. Given how opposite the two ladies are from each other personality-wise, of course there would be inevitable clashes (actually, after their first interaction, which, let’s just say didn’t go exceptionally well, I thought the two of them meeting would only be a one-time deal) – luckily for me, they continued to meet throughout the rest of the novel, so I got to enjoy their interactions to the end.  Overall though, this story is actually about Bob, the semi-retired lawyer who takes on the case of Matt Beach, a local man accused of killing his own mother.  At the end of the day though, the “mystery” element takes a back seat to the main goal of the story, which is to catch up with this eclectic community of Crosby and Shirley Falls residents as they go about their normal lives. 

 

I don’t want to give too much away (though, honestly, there really is not much to give away in the first place, since Strout’s novels famously focus on character rather than plot so not a whole lot happens anyway), but one thing I will say is that if you’re a Strout fan who has read all of her novels, then this is definitely a must-read, as she brings back pretty much all of the characters from her previous 9 novels (Oprah’s website has a nifty chart that illustrates which characters show up in which novels – the final count is that 23 of the 25 characters from Strout’s universe are in this new novel, which is wild!). 

 

Personally, since I’ve only read the Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton novels, the scenes with the other characters didn’t have as much meaning for me (which is why I rated this 4 stars instead of the 5 stars that I usually give Strout’s books), but that’s okay, as Strout’s writing is as masterful as ever, so this was still a treat to read.  In one of her author interviews, Strout was asked whether she will revisit these characters again – she responded that it’s hard to say, as it depends on whether the opportunity presents itself again (she said she wasn’t intending on writing another novel with these same characters at first, but she realized after her last novel that all the primary characters – Olive, Lucy and William, Bob and Margaret, etc. -- happened to be living in close proximity to each other now, so it just made sense to have them all interact).  Strout mentioned that the next novel she is working on so far has brand new characters, but it’s still in early stages, so we’ll see.  Whatever the case, I know I will definitely be keeping an eye out for whatever Strout decides to come out with next, regardless of which characters are in it!

 

Received ARC from Random House via NetGalley.

Review: The Briar Club (by Kate Quinn)

 My Rating: 4.5 stars

 

As I continue to work my way through my toppling summer reading TBR, I’ve been trying to prioritize works by my favorite authors first and foremost.  Last week, I finished the latest new release by Liz Moore (which I loved) and this week, it’s Kate Quinn’s turn.  I’ve read and loved most of Quinn’s 20^th century historical novels and her newest work, The Briar Club, is of course no exception.  This time around, Quinn takes on 1950s America at the height of McCarthy’s Red Scare, with both the Korean War as well as the aftermath of WWII playing minor roles in the backgrounds of a few of the characters.  At the center of the story is the Briarwood House, an all-female boardinghouse in Washington D.C., where, on Thanksgiving Day 1954, a murder has just taken place and the police are on-site investigating.  As the police get ready to interview witnesses (of whom there are many – the tenants of the boardinghouse as well as various friends and relatives), we are taken back through the past 4 years leading up to this point, starting from the day that mysterious widow Grace March moves into the closet-like room on the top floor and starts a Thursday night supper club that ends up drawing her eclectic mix of neighbors together.

 

The structure of the story is a unique one – in between a narrative that alternates between the perspectives of each of the characters where we learn their varying backstories, there are short interstitial sections that return us again and again to the present storyline in 1954, each time revealing more clues about the murder currently being investigated.  All these threads converge into an unexpected plot twist in the end that actually had me going back through some of the chapters trying to understand how I missed some of the clues that were staring me in the face. Also, one of the things I found different about this novel compared to Quinn’s previous ones is that the historical elements were more subtle, blended seamlessly into the various characters’ backstories to the point that you kind of have to pay close attention in order to notice them.  In this regard, Quinn’s Author Note – which she deliberately puts at the end of the book because it reveals spoilers from the story – is a must-read, as it provides much of the historical context for both the story as well as the characters.

 

Those who’ve read Quinn’s previous historical novels will notice that she went in a slightly different direction with this one (both story and structure-wise), but one aspect that’s a constant with her works is the focus on strong yet flawed female protagonists and the friendships (as well as rivalries) that are formed as the story progresses.  It is also worth mentioning that the tone of this novel overall is much lighter than that of Quinn’s past works, with some subtle humor interspersed throughout the story that is not usually present in her other novels.  The biggest indication of this, in my opinion, exists in the interstitial sections from the “present” 1954 timeline, which are all told from the perspective of the Briarwood boarding house (yes, you read that right – the house actually narrates those portions of the story) in contrast to the rest of the chapters which are told from the actual characters’ perspectives.  I found this narrative structure quite interesting and in this case, it worked well for the story that Quinn was trying to tell.

 

I definitely enjoyed this one, though admittedly, it’s not my favorite of Quinn’s novels (which has more to do with me than her, as this particular historical setting – 1950s America, specifically Washington D.C. amidst McCarthyism – is one that I’ve never been too keen on).  With that said, the writing is brilliant (as expected), but what blew me away the most is how Quinn wrote her characters – every single character has a distinctive personality as well as a unique backstory to match, yet the way the characters interact with each other when they come together as a group felt so natural.  These are characters that, when I got to the end of the story, I honestly did not want to part with and would’ve absolutely been happy reading more about them -- if Quinn ever decides to continue any of these characters’ stories in future works, I am totally there for it!

 

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: Mansfield Park (by Jane Austen)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

 

Now that I completed my large essay for class, I can finally buckle down and catch up on my leisure reading, just in time for summer!  But first, a few catch-up reviews on books I had read over the past couple weeks, but didn’t get a chance to write about due to being too busy.

 

Those who’ve been following my reviews probably know that I’m a huge Jane Austen fan.  Since I’m studying British Literature in school, many of my classes will of course cover Austen’s works, which is why I’ve been re-reading all of her novels over the past couple years.  This time around, I re-read Mansfield Park and I will be honest in saying that I struggled quite intensely with how to rate this one (specifically, should I give it 5 stars or 4.5 stars?).

 

On the one hand, this IS my all-time favorite author Jane Austen – call me biased, but I feel like all her novels deserve 5 stars just based on the sheer complexity and nuance of her writing.  On the other hand, MP is my least favorite of Austen’s novels, and the one that actually makes me angriest whenever I read/re-read it.

 

One of the things I’ve always loved about Austen is her ironic wit – she writes with a sardonic sense of humor that renders her novels funny, but in a subtle, inimitably nuanced way.  With MP however, Austen went in a slightly different direction in that she seemed to tone down the satiric humor quite a bit, which had the effect of dialing up the overall “wretchedness” of the characters.  What I mean by this is that in most of her novels, Austen uses humor (albeit subtly) to clever balance out her characters’ follies and vices, which still achieves the ‘cautionary tale’ effect but makes the characters more tolerable and less annoying.  In other words, the mean and nasty (and generally deplorable) characters come across as less mean and nasty (and less deplorable) because the other more sensible characters in the story keep the follies of these characters in check.  Think Mr. Woodhouse in Emma (whose hypochondriac ramblings the people around him pretend to indulge, but in reality, push back upon) or Lady Catherine in P&P (who gets ‘put in her place’ by both Darcy and Elizabeth and different points in the novel).  Basically, with these characters, because they are so heavily caricatured and made fun of, their ridiculousness becomes obvious and they end up making me laugh, which also makes their unlikability less strong.

 

In MP, unlike the other novels, the nasty characters are allowed to ‘run amok’ so to speak and rarely, if ever, get put in their places.  Aunt Norris, for example, is allowed to say all sorts of nasty things to Fanny Price and no one in the Bertram family (not even Fanny’s biggest defender Edmund) ever bothers to refute her or call her out for being abusive (I’ve seen Aunt Norris often described as a ‘bully’ but I personally feel that’s sugarcoating what she truly is: an abuser through and through).  Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram are also awful, but in different ways.  While it’s true that Austen does utilize her signature wit to describe these characters in a at various points in the novel, the sarcasm is relatively mild compared to her other works.

 

And yes, like many readers, I had an issue with Edmund and Fanny as the main couple in this story, as it honestly wasn’t convincing and I honestly did not feel that Edmund was worth Fanny ‘pining’ over for the entirety of the novel.  With that said, I’m probably one of the few readers who does not ‘hate’ Fanny Price – sure, she is very different from Austen’s other heroines: she is meek, obedient, afraid to speak her mind, and self-effacing to the point of being annoying (there were multiple times where I wanted to shake her and tell her to stop putting herself down) – but when I think about the way the Bertram family treated her (subjecting her to constant verbal abuse and tamping down her confidence at every opportunity), it made perfect sense to me why Fanny’s personality turned out the way it did.  Instead of disliking Fanny, I felt sorry for her, and couldn’t help thinking that, if she had been raised under different circumstances, perhaps she would’ve turned out differently.

 

As I mentioned earlier, MP may be my least favorite of Austen’s novels, but it is still a brilliantly written one that is well-worth reading, especially for serious Austen aficionados like myself.  While definitely less charming than P&P (which was intentional on Austen’s part, as she famously thought P&P was too “bright and sparkling,” so her later novels focused on still being comedic but more serious), it’s just as thoughtfully written, with endless angles to explore that only become apparent upon re-reading.