Review: Big Little Lies (by Liane Moriarty)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I’ve read several of Liane Moriarty’s books (including her newest release) and I’ve got to say that Big Little Lies is my favorite so far.  I’ve actually had this book on my TBR for quite some time and honestly thought about reading it back when the award-winning adaptation came out several years ago, but never got around to it.  So why am I reading this now then, in the middle of a busy reading summer when my TBR is already teetering to the point of toppling?  The answer is simple: because Moriarity finally decided to write a sequel to Big Little Lies – a rare move for her, as she has said herself in multiple interviews that she does not write sequels – which I really want to read but since I have a rule about not reading sequels until I’ve read the first book, I scrambled to slot this one in so I could finish it before the sequel comes out next month (and oh, it definitely helped that my audiobook hold from the library just happened to come through as well).  I may be late to the party with this book, but that’s okay because all the fun I had at said party all but made up for the lateness!

As many other readers already mentioned, this was a charming, delightful, hugely entertaining read that balanced the serious and the lighthearted in a seamless way.  The story was equal parts compelling and gripping, with a brilliantly crafted structure where the investigation into a mysterious death at a school trivia night (complete with juicy commentary and revelations from various parties) is interspersed with the follies and foibles that three suburban moms must navigate through as they go about their respective lives and relationships.  Moriarty was spot-on with the various character depictions and interactions – the petty quarrels and jealousies between the parents, the schoolyard scandals and controversies, the never-ending rumor mill where gossip spreads like wildfire and people are delight in finding out about other people’s miseries, the drama and politics and people who are constantly trying to “one-up” each other, etc. – the list goes on and on.  My favorite though is seeing how misguided the parents often are in thinking they know what’s best for their kids, only for them to end up being taught a lesson or two by their precociously adorable kindergarteners (speaking of which, out of all the kiddos in the story, I found Ziggy to be the most endearing).  Yes, the adults in the story do sometimes act more childishly than their kids, but that’s how people are in real life too (speaking for myself, I know I’ve definitely had those moments).

One of the things Moriarty does brilliantly in this story is juxtaposing the “silly and ridiculous” (i.e.: all the petty rivalries between the parents) with the “serious and heavy” (i.e. domestic abuse, bullying, death) and being able to write about both with a delicate balance of heart and humor.  With Moriarty’s other books, I don’t usually feel much emotional pull, but this one turned out to be an emotional roller coaster – there were moments where I laughed so hard to the point of tears, while other times, I felt sad and angry (and sometimes indignant) at what some of the characters had to endure; there were still other moments where I couldn’t help rolling my eyes (sometimes into the back of my skull, it felt like) at the ridiculous pettiness and childishly dramatic antics of some of the parents, yet the next moment, I would be moved by the sweet innocence of the kindergarteners who seem to understand more about what it means to treat people with kindness and respect than the adults do.

Moriarty covers so much ground in this book, yet it never felt overwhelming.  As I mentioned earlier, I listened to the audiobook, which was 16 hours, but it honestly didn’t feel that long because the story was so immersive and engrossing – so much so that I often found myself listening for hours on end because I couldn’t wait to find out what happens next. Of course, it also helped that the audiobook narrator did a good job with the voice work – especially her use of distinct intonations for each of the characters, clearly differentiating the adults from the children – which made this a particularly immersive experience on audio.

As much as I enjoyed this, I couldn’t give it 5 stars because it did have some flaws, not to mention some really ‘over the top bordering on absurd’ characters as well as a fair share of ridiculous ‘eye-roll worthy’ (though at the same time downright hilarious) moments – but honestly, that’s what made this book such a fun (and funny) read! 

I’m not sure what Moriarty has in store for us with the sequel but the high standards she set with this book will be hard to surpass, that’s for sure.  I guess I will find out next month when my pre-order Big Little Truths arrives!

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

My Rating: 4 stars

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

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

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

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

Received ARC from Manga Classics via NetGalley.

Review: 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: Goodbye Chinatown (by Kit Fan)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Received ARC from World Editions via NetGalley.

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

My Rating: 3.5 stars

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

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

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

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

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

Received ARC from Europa Editions via NetGalley.

Review: The Calamity Club (by Kathryn Stockett)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

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

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

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

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

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

Received ARC from Spiegel & Grau via NetGalley.

Review: Five (by Ilona Bannister)

My Rating: 4 stars

This book was wild and honestly unlike anything I’ve read before!  From the first page, we already know that one of the five people waiting on a train platform in London will die.  It is 7:01am and the death will occur within the next few minutes, when the next train is scheduled to arrive.  The main question is, which of the five will it be (and secondarily, will it be an accident or deliberate)?  The premise sounds simple and to be honest, when I first started reading, I was wondering how the story was going to play out – I mean, given that everything is supposed to happen within a few minute timespan, how could the story possibly last the entire 240 pages?   I was definitely intrigued and drawn in by the seemingly simple setup at the start of the story where we are introduced to each of the main characters in a way that breaks the fourth wall, with the reader not only being addressed directly, but also given instructions to pay attention to certain things.  And it turned out that I didn’t have to wait long to find out how the author, Ilona Bannister, manages to turn a five-minute premise into a 240-page story, as, interspersed throughout the train station scene, we are given each of the five character’s backstories. But even here, the execution of the story is not as simple as it may seem, for we learn things about each character during these intervening chapters that will end up having an impact on how we view the train station scene.  Specifically, we won’t be able to help formulating opinions about each of the characters based on what we read about them, and ultimately, this influences our judgement of the story’s outcome – basically, who dies and the deeper moral question of whether they deserve it -- which of course, is not revealed until the last few pages.

This is one of the most interesting, engaging, and uniquely original stories I’ve read in a long time.  As a reader, I definitely felt that I had a vested interest in the story from start to finish, despite the fact that I was able to guess “the death” early on.  With this book, the thrill is actually in the process of getting to the outcome – that is, learning about each character, their vices, their desperation, and, most importantly, the circumstances that brought them to this moment at the train station – and then using everything we learned to justify (or not) the death at the end of the story.  So essentially, this story is a study of the base impulses and instincts that make up human nature, with the reader, then, basically forced to be judge and jury.  This is, no doubt, a clever setup and if I were to look at this book from a writing / craft perspective (i.e.: the brilliant way the story was executed), it probably deserves a 5.  However, I’m the type of reviewer who puts more emphasis on reading experience and how a book or story made me feel -- in this regard, well, I found all of the characters reprehensible and, as such, couldn’t bring myself to like any of them (which, now that I think about it, was probably the author’s point in structuring the story the way she did). Given my frustration with the characters, which did impact my reading experience, but yet still recognizing the brilliance of the story, I figured a 4 was the fairest way to go. 

Overall, this was a compelling and fascinating read that I definitely recommend, especially if you are into slow-burn, character-driven psychological thrillers.  Speaking of which, for me, this was one of the “truest” psychological dramas I’ve read in a long time, in the sense that I actually felt challenged psychologically as a reader, to stop and think and assess, then to doubt and re-assess (and repeat this process, sometimes to no avail). This one definitely requires that you put in the work (both mentally and psychologically), so I would say keep that in mind if you do decide to pick this up.

Review: Summerland Cove (by Ellen Baker)

My Rating: 4 stars

Given its cover and title as well as its seaside and summer vacation setting – combined with an interesting premise with a mysterious disappearance at its center, a splash of summer romance, a bunch of messy family relationships, and too many secrets to count -- this book had all the trappings of a “perfect for the summer months” read.  This also proved to be a bit lighter fare than the books I’ve been reading lately, so timing-wise, this worked well in getting me settled into the rhythm of my summer reading journey.

In a story that revolves around one summer in 2010, three women from different generations of the same family narrate the events that occur during a get-together to celebrate three big events over the course of three weekends:  a birthday, a 50^th anniversary party, and a wedding.  At her family’s summer cottage located in a coastal town called Summerland Cove in Maine, 50-year-old Lindy is setting up for her husband David’s birthday bash, which she had been planning for weeks, alongside her parents Greta and Tom’s 50^th anniversary celebration to take place the next weekend, and culminating with her eldest daughter Hailey’s wedding the weekend after that. With only a few hours to go before the party starts, Lindy is busy putting the final touches on the arrangements and making sure things are in tip-top shape.  As the final guests arrive and the party is already underway however, the guest of honor – birthday boy David – is nowhere to be found.  When it becomes apparent that David isn’t merely “late” but rather a “no show” to his own party, the family starts to panic.  Did something happen? Is he okay? Is his disappearance intentional or an accident?  With so many questions and no good answers, the celebration turns into a frantic search that gradually leads to the unraveling of one family secret after another.

The story unfolds through the alternating perspectives of Greta, Lindy, and Hailey, who each give their take on the events that occur while also providing insight into their thoughts and feelings and, ultimately, secrets that we as readers become privy to but some of the characters don’t. I think this structure worked fine overall, though with the three of them narrating some of the same events, there was bound to be some repetition here and there, which had the effect of making some parts feel a tad drawn out – and I did feel that the book as a whole was longer than it really needed to be.  Out of the 3 POVs, I connected the most to Greta’s, which is surprising given that I’m actually closer to Lindy’s age.  With that said, some aspects of Lindy’s story arc did resonate with me, but I found Greta’s story more poignant and relatable (those scenes with Marjorie near the end actually moved me to tears).  I also wasn’t too keen on Hailey’s story arc, as I found it too predictable, for one, and it also felt a bit cliché-ish – not to mention her character came across like an angsty teen rather than an adult most of the time, plus some of the scenes where she repeatedly goes out on a limb to justify things that are so obviously not justifiable (or deliberately talks herself into doing the opposite of what she actually wants) started to annoy me after like the fourth or fifth time. Fortunately, there was enough other stuff going on that Hailey’s wishy-washy story arc didn’t become too much of a distraction.

Overall, I definitely enjoyed this one, as it had many of the elements that I typically like: a compelling mystery, complicated family dynamics, strong and complexly drawn female characters, emotional depth, atmospheric settings, etc.  With that said, I also understand some of the complaints that other readers/reviewers had about the many plot lines and story arcs that made the story feel a bit too “busy.”  Also, while the writing flowed pretty well for the most part, there were sections where some of the characters would repeatedly debate with themselves (usually in efforts to justify their own actions), which I felt was unnecessary and dragged things down a bit.  I think if some of those extraneous bits were cut and the story tightened up a little more, this would’ve been a much more solid read.  That said, I still recommend adding this one to your summer reading list, as it is a perfect fit for the season.  Reading this also made me interested in Ellen Baker’s backlist, which I definitely hope to explore at some point.

 

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 Fine Art of Lying (by Alexandra Andrews)

My Rating: 3 stars

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

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

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

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

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

My Rating: 4 stars 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Review: The Nine Moons of Han Yu and Luli (by Karina Yan Glaser)

My Rating: 5 stars

Wow!  This beautifully written middle grade novel absolutely blew me away!  I honestly can’t remember the last time I was so enamored with a book that I couldn’t bring myself to put it down, so I ended up finishing it pretty much in one sitting.

I first came across this book in an issue of Kirkus Reviews (I subscribe to Kirkus and read each issue cover-to-cover – yes, I know I’m weird) and was initially drawn in by the gorgeous cover.  Then, I saw the title – The Nine Moons of Han Yu and Luli -- and before even reading the blurb, I knew I had to put this on my TBR immediately – after all, it’s not often that I come across a book that has my childhood nickname (Luli) in it.  Once I read the summary (as well a as a few reviews) and found out that the story revolves around Chinese culture and history (which is also my heritage), I was ecstatic and couldn’t wait to jump in.  Coincidentally, my library hold on the audiobook version came through just as I was debating which version to read, so I went with that one and I’m so glad I did, as the audiobook was absolutely superb!  The two narrators – Sura Siu for Luli’s storyline and Brian Nishii for Han Yu’s – were wonderful:  their narration was lively and animated, bringing not only the two main characters to life, but also the rest of the (relatively large) cast of characters through different voice performances.  Best of all though, both narrators’ pronunciations of Chinese words and phrases were perfect, which lent an authenticity to the audio version that, for me, definitely enhanced the listening experience (as a side note, this can be a deal breaker for me when it comes to audiobooks – I don’t have a problem with the narrator being outside the culture as long as they pronounce the cultural words and phrases correctly).  I ended up loving this book so much that immediately after I finished listening to the library version, I went and purchased my own audio and physical copies of the book so I could re-listen and/or re-read whenever I feel like it.

At first glance, the story appears to be told in two alternating timelines:  Han Yu’s story takes place in 731 China while Luli’s takes place in New York’s Chinatown in 1931.  Both protagonists set out on adventures to save their families, but the reasoning behind why they do so is markedly different.  Han Yu is one of four children who lives in the city of Chang’An (the capital of China during the Tang dynasty era) with his parents.  Alongside his dad, Han Yu works the steamed bun stall at the local market and though they don’t earn much, they live a contented life as a close-knit family.  Even though he doesn’t recognize it, Han Yu has a special ability when it comes to animals in that he can relate to them in a way that causes them to naturally flock to him.  But it’s not just tame village animals such as dogs, camels, and magpies – there are whispers throughout the village that Han Yu has the special protection of a tiger that had appeared at the time of his birth, though no one has actually seen it in real life.  When a horrible plague descends on Chang’An, Han Yu sets out on a perilous journey across China, traveling thousands of miles to Tian Shiu and Dunhuang in order to save his family.  Luli is a fifth grader living in New York’s Depression-era Chinatown with her parents, both of whom had worked hard all their lives in order to save enough money to put towards paying off the mortgage on their house.  But business at their restaurant has been slow and soon, the family finds themselves in dire financial straits.  With the help of her neighbors and the rest of the community, Luli is determined to do whatever she can to help her family save their home.

I didn’t realize this until close to the end of the book, but the story should actually be more accurately described as being told in two “parallel” timelines rather than “alternating” – reason being is that both Han Yu and Luli’s story arcs occur within the same “nine moon” cycle, just in different eras.  I felt this was such a clever way to structure the story, not to mention the insight it provides in terms of how the Tang dynasty moon cycles worked relevant to the modern-day Gregorian calendar.  But the two timelines were parallel in other ways too – the steamed buns, the animals, the art, the significance of the silk, found families, friendship, etc. – the list goes on and on.  As I was reading, I couldn’t help but marvel at the cleverness of the many connections between the two tremendously different storylines, both of which come together in the end in a way I wasn’t expecting, but I absolutely loved.

When it comes to dual timeline stories, I usually have a preference for one timeline over the other, but in this instance, I enjoyed both times quite equally.  Though with that said, Han Yu’s timeline did have a slight edge, mostly from a familiarity perspective due to my background studying Chinese history and culture.  Many years ago, I had actually gone on a tour of the Silk Road and one of the places I visited was Dunhuang (which is where Han Yu travels to in the story to find the healing grasses for his family) as well as the nearby Mogao Caves (the Thousand Buddha Caves in the book).  Reading about both of these places brought back so many memories of that trip, but more importantly, it made this part of the story more resonant for me, as I had experienced for myself the magnificence of those sites as well as the historical significance surrounding them (and yes, I also had the very interesting experience of riding a camel during that trip and I can truly say that I absolutely related to the scene in the book where Han Yu struggled to get on and off his camel, LOL).

There was honestly so much to love about this book that I feel like I could gush about it forever.  I especially love how well the historical and cultural elements were incorporated into the story, all of it blending together in a way that created a truly immersive experience (especially the audio version).  I also appreciated the emotional depth of the story, which was so well done in both timelines – just the right amount of emotional pull without going overboard – that I found myself both laughing and crying in equal measure.

Given how much I loved this book, I of course highly recommend it, though with the caveat that the audio book version is the best way to experience this one.  Fortunately, the audio version also has the Author’s Note in it, which is also a must-read in and of itself, as the author, Karina Yan Glaser, provides valuable insight into the structure of the book – such as why she chose to set the story in Chang’An (Han Yu’s timeline) and New York City (Luli’s timeline) specifically.  Also, since this is a historical novel, Glaser also discusses which aspects of the story are real versus fictional (i.e. Han Yu’s friend and traveling companion in the story is based on a real person – the famous Tang dynasty poet and politician Du Fu).  As is the case whenever I read historical fiction, I always make it a point to read the Author’s Note as closely as I read the book itself, as I love finding out the “behind-the-scenes” stuff and also learning about the inspiration behind various aspects of the story.

If you get a chance to pick up this delightful book, definitely do so, as it is a fantastic read that I would actually love to experience again in the future.

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!