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: The Land and Its People (by David Sedaris)

My Rating: 4 stars

The Land and Its People is David Sedaris’s newest essay collection, published just last month, and the second collection of his that I’ve read so far this year.  Even though I have a print version of the book, I decided to go with the audio version again, as I saw that all the essays were recordings of live performances, which enhanced the reading (listening) experience for me last time, so I figured it would do the same this time around as well (and fortunately, I was right).

In this collection of essays, Sedaris employs his trademark wry, self-deprecating humor to reflect upon the various roles that we take up in this world and our numerous human relationships as well as interactions – essentially, he explores what it means to be a human being in this land that we inhabit.  As is his style, most of the essays reflect his irreverent sense of humor, with subjects ranging from the intimate – such as Sedaris’s relationship with his husband Hugh as well as his interactions with his siblings and various members of his family – to the strange and absurd, such as when he challenges his friend to eat a truck tire. And yes, some essays may feel more grating than others, especially the ones where he pokes fun at certain groups of people or pushes the envelope with some sensitive subjects – but my philosophy is usually to take this stuff in stride knowing that it is part of the humorist/comedian’s “act” -- as long as it doesn’t cross any lines, of course.

As a whole, I found this collection of essays quite enjoyable and many of them funnier than I expected, though there were a few where the joke was on me for not “getting” the punchline.  A few of the essays also sounded familiar, so likely I had read them from other publications, since Sedaris’s work is widely published.  Overall, this was a nice palette cleanser from the heavier stuff that I’ve been reading and helped me to unwind given the particularly stressful week I’ve had at work.  As I noted in a previous review, I am slowly making my way through Sedaris’s backlist and continue to insert some much-needed levity into my life wherever I can find it.

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 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: Made in China: A Memoir of Love and Labor (by Anna Qu)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As I continue my new-found audio book journey, I’ve been focusing on listening to memoirs and other non-fiction works that I’ve had on my TBR list for ages, but never got around to reading previously.  One such memoir is Anna Qu’s Made in China: A Memoir of Love and Labor, which I can’t remember why I had on my list, but I’m glad I finally got to it.  To be honest, the subtitle of this one is kind of misleading, as there was little to nothing about “love” in these pages, though the part about “labor” is true enough.  Not long after Qu’s father dies when she was a baby, her mother goes to America to pursue a better life, leaving Qu behind in China in the care of her grandparents.  At five years old, Qu is finally reunited with her mother and her new family in Queens, New York, but instead of being a happy reunion, this becomes the start of a nightmare for Qu.  In addition to being forced to work at her mother and stepfather’s garment factory (aka sweatshop), Qu is also repeatedly abused by her mother, who favors Qu’s half-siblings (a brother and sister) and alternates between treating Qu as a maid (making her take care of all the household choirs as well as both of her half-siblings) or pretending she doesn’t exist.  Qu spends most of the book detailing the abuse she suffers at her mother’s hand, such as when she is punished for doing her homework and thrown out of the house by her stepfather at the direction of her mother.  The most harrowing instance of abuse is when Qu’s mother beats her with a hanger for daring to tell her half-sister to ask for permission before using her colored pencils – an incident that nearly kills Qu when she tries to jump out the window to avoid her mother’s violence.  Pushed to the end of her rope, Qu alerts the Office of Children and Family Services through her school’s guidance counselor and after an investigation, Qu sees her situation improve in that she no longer has to work in the family’s sweatshop (where any money she “earned” went to her abusive mother) and instead, she is allowed to make her own money through jobs such as a dental assistant and waitressing.  Even though the social worker assigned by the OCFS, Mary, helps make Qu’s life a little bit better, the one thing that Mary is not able to help Qu with is the one thing she desperately wants – to make her mother love her.  Qu eventually goes off to college and becomes estranged from her mother for the most part (though she does go back to visit her mother, stepfather, and half-siblings at their Queens home and has dinner with them as though nothing happened, which I honestly found a bit baffling given everything she suffered in that family, culminating with her mother’s most recent refusal to provide her with the signature needed for her to continue with her schooling).

In the second half of the book, which takes place 20 years later, Qu recounts her experience working at a start-up company that is on the brink of collapsing.  This portion of the memoir I felt was kind of irrelevant to everything that occurred in the first half (though perhaps Qu included it to show how miserable her life continued to be due to all the lingering trauma from the abuse?).  During this time, Qu decides to request her OCFS report and when she receives it, she is shocked to find tons of inaccuracies with the report, all the way down to the OCFS finding that there was no evidence that Qu was ever abused.  This revelation, along with the discovery that her mother had kept the news of her beloved grandfather’s death a secret from her, devastates Qu.  Though the memoir does end on a slightly positive note with Qu being reunited with the grandmother who raised her in China and the only person in her family who truly loves her unconditionally, that scene felt too short and abrupt to counteract the “heaviness” of everything that came before it.

Overall, I found this to be an uncomfortable read, not just because of the subject matter, but also because there were points throughout the memoir (though mostly near the end) where it came across as though Qu was trying to justify her mother’s abusive behavior by relating it to the struggles she endured being widowed at a young age and then having to build a life for herself after immigrating to America alone. In a segment near the end of the book, it almost felt like Qu was trying to find excuses for her mother, insinuating that perhaps the hardship of having to overcome her situation as a Chinese immigrant woman in America is what made her violent and abusive, which might be true, but then seems to dismiss everything else she had written prior to that. 

The other thing that made this a not-too-pleasant listen was the narrator of the audio book (not the author) who read the entire book in a tone that sounded perpetually angry and bitter.  While it can be argued that using such a tone probably makes sense in this case given the subject matter, it felt grating after awhile, especially after listening for several hours straight, and put me in a depressed mood.  I think this is an instance where it would’ve been better for me to actually read the book instead of listening to it via audio.

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: Gather Me: A Memoir in Praise of the Books That Saved Me (by Glory Edim)

My Rating: 4 stars

I enjoyed this memoir from the founder of the Well-Read Black Girl book club, Glory Edim, where she discusses the books and authors that saved her during some of the most difficult moments of her life. From Nikki Giovanni to Maya Angelou, Audre Lorde to Toni Morrison, and many many more, Edim recounts how the words of these brilliant writers had such a huge impact on her and eventually inspired her to start her hugely popular book club so she could continue to uplift stories by Black writers.

Even though I come from a completely different cultural background, I found that I was still able to relate to quite a few of the struggles that Edim talks about in her memoir.  For example, as the daughter of traditional Nigerian parents who immigrated to the United States, Edim had to constantly navigate the culture clash between her American upbringing and her Nigerian heritage, with having to reconcile the two often leading to an identity crisis.  This is an experience that resonates deeply with me as someone who also comes from a very traditional culture (Chinese) that oftentimes conflicts with the culture that I was raised in (American). One scene from Edim’s memoir especially stuck with me -- she talks about how she was attending her father’s funeral in Nigeria, alongside her mother and her brother Maurice and ended up causing an uproar when she insisted on saying a few words, as the cultural mandate was for women to be seen but not heard:

“I had written something about my father that I wanted to read, but I was firmly told that it would not be possible: A daughter does not speak at her father’s funeral. A woman does not speak in church. I was told not to worry; Maurice could speak for us both.”  

Edim also recounts other instances during her trip to Nigeria where she would be standing next to her brother, but people would refuse to speak to her or even acknowledge her existence, choosing instead to talk to the male in the family. Coming from a culture that places higher value on sons over daughters, I know first-hand what it feels like to be on the receiving end of such snubs (both intentional and unintentional), so I applaud Edim for standing up for herself.

This was definitely a worthwhile read, one that was made even more special with its message about the power of books to not just entertain, but also inspire, heal, and serve as a refuge during moments when it is most needed.  This one is especially good on audio, where Edim’s lively narration adds an emotional element that without a doubt enhances the reading experience.  And yes, the book recs are a wonderful bonus!

Review: A Living Remedy (by Nicole Chung)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Nicole Chung’s second memoir is a poignant love letter of sorts to her parents, both of whom pass away less than one year apart – her father from diabetes and kidney disease in 2019, and her mother from cancer in 2020, during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.  Chung’s grief is palpable as she recounts the tragedy of her parents’ deaths and her own helplessness in being able to do much for them, both due to financial hardship and physical distance. Mixed in with the pain of losing her parents – both of whom loved her deeply -- is the guilt that comes from feeling that she abandoned them by leaving behind the rural hometown that she grew up in as soon as she could, in pursuit of a life that couldn’t have been more different than what she had known.  Alongside that is the feeling of rage that followed Chung almost incessantly as she gradually begins to understand the role that deep-rooted inequalities in America’s healthcare system played in the premature deaths of both her parents, who were only in their 60s when they passed. In highlighting these disparities, Chung is not vindictive – instead, she lays out the challenges that her parents encounter with the system, and in so doing, not only gives voice to their experiences, but also provides an insightful look into the frustrations of a system that, in its deliberate complexity, is neither meant to be fair nor equal.

Chung’s account of her parents’ experiences especially resonated with me due to my own mother’s health issues, many of which are similar to her parents’: diabetes, kidney disease, breast and uterine cancer, high blood pressure, irregular heartbeat, just to name a few.  I understand the difficulties of having to navigate a complicated healthcare system that, at the end of the day, often times leads to disappointment and despair.  I could also relate to Chung’s worry for her parents as well as the guilt that comes from not being by her loved ones’ side when they needed her most.

This was a heartbreaking read, but also an insightful one that gave me so much to think about and reflect upon, both as it pertains to my own family situation as well as the overall state of the healthcare system in this country.  I definitely recommend this searing, honest memoir, especially the audio book version, which, even though not narrated by the author herself, was still powerful and poignant in its recounting of the everyday realities and struggles of ordinary people trying to live their lives.

Review: Charlotte's Web (by E.B. White)

My Rating: 5 “radiant” stars!

I’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic recently, so I decided to go back and revisit a childhood favorite: E.B. White’s masterpiece Charlotte’s Web, which is a book I adored and read many times as a child but never got the chance to re-read in adulthood.  Honestly, what can I say about this book that hasn’t already been said?  This charming story featuring an unlikely friendship between a pig and a spider is a timeless classic, with themes that readers of all ages can relate to.  Indeed, reading this book as a child, I delighted in the whimsy of the talking animals and like so many others, I adored Wilbur (to the point that I wanted a pig of my own, lol) and loved Charlotte (which is saying a lot considering my overwhelming fear of spiders).  Of course back then, the focus was on the two main animal characters (and rightfully so), but reading this now as an adult, I was also able to appreciate the rest of the characters in a way that I couldn’t as a child. For example, I found Templeton quite funny and could never help chuckling whenever the old sheep tricked him into doing something he didn’t want to do by appealing to his baser instincts.  The goose and gander and their brood of little goslings were fun to read about as well.  By comparison, the human characters were far less interesting in my opinion, except for when they made bumbling fools of themselves, which I admit that I did find kind of funny.  Upon each re-read, whether as a child or adult, I also found the message about the enduring power of genuine friendship, even through life and death, incredibly moving.

I’m definitely glad I got the chance to revisit this wonderful book as an adult.  It was just the heartwarming pick-me-up I needed after a grueling and stressful week at work. If I didn’t already have such a huge TBR to get through, I wouldn’t mind making it a habit to re-read a favorite childhood classic more often!

Review: Calypso (by David Sedaris)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I’ve been feeling a bit of overwhelm lately looking at my ridiculously long TBR list, which I keep adding books to faster than I am able to read them. This feeling of overwhelm, coupled with the fact that I am running out of space for all the physical books I have in my house, has driven me to make a few much-needed changes to the way I plan my reading. 

First though, let me explain how I got here.  Ever since I discovered Advance Reader Copies (ARCs) around 10 years ago, my reading life changed dramatically in that a huge focus of my reading every year has been on new releases.  Sure, I read backlist books as well, but except for my two years in graduate school (which, given my major in English Literature, required that I read tons of not only backlist but also classics), the majority of my time was spent trying to get through an ARC of a new release before its publication date.  At the same time, I also suffer from a serious case of BOOK FOMO where I will often go on book buying binges and before I know it, I will end up with a stack of books (both new releases and backlist titles) that I have every intention of getting to as soon as possible but inevitably set aside because of some other book I need to read (either for review or book club or both).  The result is that, over the past decade, I’ve accumulated hundreds (okay, it’s probably more like thousands) of books on my TBR (and bookshelves) that I want to read but haven’t found time to get to. 

So going back to the changes I mentioned earlier: in addition to incorporating audiobooks into my reading (which has helped me get through many of the nonfiction backlist titles in my collection), I’ve also been more intentional about requesting fewer ARCs, which gives me room to incorporate more books from my own shelves when planning my list of reads each month. Three months in, I am happy to report that this strategy seems to be working, as my reading log shows that I’ve read 10 backlist and 9 new releases so far this year, which is very close to the one for one ratio that I was hoping to achieve (though this will probably change when all the “big books” come out in the summer and fall, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there – for now, I will take every win I can get, LOL).

Just today, I finished another backlist title – one of David Sedaris’s (many) essay collections, Calypso, which I had gotten as one of the Book of the Month titles back in 2018.  I’ve read individual essays/articles that Sedaris has written over the years in various publications, but this was my first time reading an entire collection of them in book form, which, I have to say, is an entirely different experience from reading them individually.  While I enjoyed this collection quite a bit overall, I didn’t find it as funny as I anticipated it would be, especially given Sedaris’s trademark wry, cynical, and candidly irreverent sense of humor that is usually right up my alley.  I’m thinking this could be because I listened to this one on audio – which of course meant that I was also doing other tasks at the same time – so it’s possible that I may have gotten distracted and missed some of the funnier bits. With that said, one of the particularly enjoyable aspects of the audio version is that a few of the essays were recordings from his live performances, which definitely enhanced the listening experience for those (and not surprisingly, I found those to be the funniest essays in the collection).

I actually have several of Sedaris’s essay collections on my shelf, which I intend to work my way through by interspersing them wherever I can (though I probably will need to do some research first to see whether I should pick up the audio or the print version).  I’m also looking forward to his newest essay collection coming out in May – just in time for summer reading!

Review: One Jump At A Time: My Story (by Nathan Chen)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As a long-time figure skating fan, I always look forward to watching the skating events at the Winter Olympics, even though I may not be as familiar with the skaters competing that year – which was certainly the case last month when I tuned into the 2026 Milan Cortina Olympics and did not recognize any of the skaters, since majority of my favorite skaters are ones who were active in the 1980s, 1990s, and early 2000s, and are all mostly retired now.  That said, I did see many familiar faces in the audience, as many retired skaters attended the figure skating events as either commentators or to support the skaters and their teams.  While watching those events, I was delighted to see so many of my favorite skaters sitting in the crowd, especially given how the previous Winter Olympics in Beijing in 2022 were held in a bubble due to COVID, with the arena mostly empty since spectators were not allowed to attend.  Speaking of the Beijing Olympics, one of the skaters I saw in the audience during the Milan Cortina Olympics was Nathan Chen, who had won the gold medal in Men’s Figure Skating during those games – seeing Nathan reminded me that I’ve had his memoir on my TBR since it came out back in November 2022 and perhaps now would be a good chance to finally get around to reading it. As I’ve been doing with memoirs since the end of last year, I decided to listen to this one via audio so I could hear Nathan narrate his own story (this strategy of listening to the author narrate their own memoir / book has so far elevated the reading experience for me each time). 

In his memoir, which is cowritten with Alice Park, Nathan recounts his journey to Olympic gold --  starting from the time he put on his first pair of skates at three years old, to his various experiences climbing the ranks of elite figure skating, all the way through to his disastrous performance at the 2018 Pyongchang games and how he rebounded four years later in Beijing to win gold at an Olympic games that was held under strict COVID protocols, a dynamic that added another layer of pressure to an already stressful and demanding sport.  Along the way, Nathan reflects on the trials and tribulations of competing as a professional figure skater as well as the impact that his family’s unwavering support and sacrifices throughout the years have had on his journey.  Especially significant for Nathan is the fact that he won the gold medal during the Olympics held in the country of his parents’ birth, giving his journey a sense of coming full circle.  Nathan has always come across to me as humble and grateful, and this impression of him was definitely reinforced throughout the memoir, as Nathan brings up his family a lot and it’s pretty obvious that he holds them in high regard, which is refreshing to see.

Overall, I enjoyed reading this and it was fun getting to re-immerse myself in the figure skating world again (which I don’t do as often anymore), but I did feel that the audio experience was a bit lackluster, especially when compared to some of the other ones I’ve read / listened to recently.  With that said, I would still recommend this one, especially to skating fans, as it is no doubt an inspiring and encouraging story – and of course, this book will definitely be a treat for Nathan’s fans.

Review: No Time Like the Future: An Optimist Considers Mortality (by Michael J. Fox)

My Rating: 5 stars

With his iconic roles in television (Family Ties, Spin City) and film (Back to the Future, Teen Wolf, etc.), Michael J. Fox is no doubt a Hollywood legend. Growing up in the 1980s, I’ve always admired Mike’s work as an actor – his comedic timing and trademark sense of humor especially – but over the years, what has turned me into a bona fide fan of his is witnessing his battle with Parkinson’s, the disease with which he was diagnosed at the young age of 29.  In addition to his devoted advocacy work in the area of Parkinson’s research and raising awareness of the disease, Mike’s approach to life – his constant optimism and positivity as well as his ability to face adversity with consistent grace and humor – is nothing short of amazing, moving, and absolutely inspiring.

Prior to this one, Mike had written two memoirs detailing his journey, but this latest memoir stands apart in that it came out during the pandemic, when the idea of mortality was a very real and very serious concern for so many of us.  In the decade leading up to that time, Mike himself experienced several major health challenges that put his optimistic outlook to the test, including the discovery of a tumor in his spinal cord that required not only risky surgery but also a grueling recovery process, as well as a broken arm resulting from a devastating fall in his kitchen (an unintentional, but in his mind, avoidable, injury that also nearly broke his spirit).  In having to deal with these health challenges on top of his daily co-existence with Parkinson’s, Mike is forced to reassess his optimistic outlook and reflect on the reality of having to face mortality head-on.

As someone with a more cynical bordering on pessimistic outlook on life, I found Mike’s memoir both moving and uplifting, but most important of all, it put some of my own struggles into perspective.  Listening to Mike narrate this book via audio was especially powerful, so I would definitely recommend experiencing his memoir via this route if possible.

Despite the challenges, Mike continues to stay strong and active to the extent that he can be, which is great to see, but most significantly, he continues to remain positive and keep up his sense of humor, which I’m sure is not easy.  I wish him and Tracy and their wonderful family the best of luck!

Review: My Husband's Wife (by Alice Feeney)

My Rating: 4 stars 

It is not lost on me that we are almost halfway through the month of February and so far, I have only finished 1 book (compared to the 10 books that I read in January, which was definitely a record for me).  Though with that said, I am not actually complaining, as I kind of already knew that my reading life would take a hit this month due to how busy I would be with several birthdays to celebrate (both within my family and among close friends), various Lunar New Year festivities to attend, and of course, watching the Olympics (specifically the figure skating events, since I’ve been a fan of the sport since the 1980s).  So basically, not getting to as many books this month isn’t a bad thing at all, it just means that I will need to do a bit more catching up next month, which is totally fine by me.

One book that I wanted to make sure I got to this month was Alice Feeney’s latest thriller / suspense novel My Husband’s Wife, which actually came out in January.  Feeney has been an “auto read” author for me ever since I read and was blown away by her debut novel Sometimes I Lie – so much so in fact that, without realizing it, I’m now actually a completist of her works (that is, until her next book comes out).  Prior to reading this newest work, I had seen several reviews which said, essentially, that this was Feeney’s best book to date – an assessment which, having read all her books, I can’t really agree with.  Yes, this book was good and I would definitely rank it in the top 5 amongst her works, but I hesitate to use such a superlative as “the best book she’s written” so far. One thing I CAN agree on however is that this book is definitely Feeney’s most intricately plotted to date – though yes, just like with her previous books, there will also be some moments where suspension of disbelief is necessary in order to truly “enjoy” the reading experience.

When I first picked up Feeney’s newest book, it actually did take me quite a while to get into the story.  The first third or so of the book consists of chapters that mostly alternate between the first-person perspectives of the two main female protagonists, Eden Fox and Olivia Bird (“Birdy”) – two characters that I honestly did not like and could not stand (as I mentioned in my review of Feeney’s previous books, she seems to make her characters more and more unlikeable with each book).  In fact, the annoyance was so palpable this time around that I was actually tempted to DNF (which, for me, is a rare occurrence) – but of course, since this is Feeney after all, I pushed through my initial frustrations and started really getting into the story at about the midway point.  That’s also around the time that I realized there was a pattern to the way Feeney ends and starts each chapter (the first sentence of the new chapter is a variation of the last sentence of the previous chapter), which I initially thought was interesting but didn’t fully appreciate its significance until I got to the end of the book and figured out the way it connected seemingly disparate aspects of the story together.  I don’t want to say too much more about this, as I don’t want to give any part of the story away, but I mention this as something worth paying attention to while reading if possible.

In terms of the twists and turns, there were plenty of them this time around, and as expected from Feeney, several of them were brilliantly executed.  With this being the 8^th book of Feeney’s that I’ve read, I’m plenty familiar with her style by now, so I knew better than to take any part of the plot at face value.  Despite being able to figure out a good portion of the ending early on (I’ve learned to read some of the textual clues that Feeney drops throughout the story), I was still quite surprised by some of the “twists” that I definitely didn’t see coming. For me, this is part of the “fun” of reading Feeney’s works – on the one hand, being familiar enough with her style to be able to pick up on certain clues the first time around that other readers new to her books might have missed, while on the other hand, still being surprised by particular elements of the ending and “big reveal.” 

With all that said, for those thinking about picking this one up, especially if it’s your first experience with Feeney’s works, I would suggest diving in with a clear mind and just going along for the ride without trying to dissect things too much.  While I eagerly await Feeney’s next book, I can’t help but wonder what type of twisted, mind-boggling adventure she will have in store for us next.  Hopefully we won’t have to wait long!

 

Review: From Scratch: A Memoir of Love, Sicily, and Finding Home (by Tembi Locke)

My Rating: 5 stars 

I put Tembi Locke’s memoir From Scratch on my TBR several years ago after a friend recommended it to me as one of the most beautifully written memoirs she had ever read.  However the same friend was also adamant that the absolutely best way to experience this book was via audio.  Since, at the time, I had a bit of a fraught relationship with audiobooks, I unsurprisingly put off reading this book at the time.  Now that I’m back into audiobooks, I of course jumped at the opportunity to finally experience Tembi’s memoir and I have to say that I absolutely agree with my friend’s assessment: this is indeed one of the most beautifully written memoirs I’ve ever read, and yes, the best way to experience Tembi’s story is definitely via audio.

Tembi’s memoir is, in essence, a love letter to her late husband Saro, an Italian chef with whom she had a cross-cultural romance for almost two decades until he died from cancer in 2012.  In the face of such a devastating loss, a heartbroken Tembi finds herself navigating widowhood and solo motherhood.  With her young daughter Zoela in tow, Tembi returns to her husband’s hometown of Sicily, where she finds an unlikely ally in her mother-in-law Croce, also a widow who now must endure the additional loss of her only son. In their shared grief over their beloved Saro, Tembi and her mother-in-law find solace in each other’s company -- more significantly for Tembi, she finds healing and nourishment at her mother-in-law’s table through the authentic dishes that Croce cooks for her as well as through the close-knit Sicilian community that embraces her as one of their own. From Scratch chronicles Tembi’s incredible story – at once a deeply romantic love story as well as an ode to the healing power of family, food, and culture in the face of indescribable grief.

In listening to the audiobook, I found Tembi’s narration both powerful and heartfelt.  I cried through the many moments of sadness yet also smiled through tears during the moments of joy.  I also loved the lush descriptions of delicious Italian food and the picturesque Italian countryside, which felt especially authentic and transportive through Tembi’s genuine and emotional narration.

This was a heartbreaking read for sure, but it was also uplifting and inspiring – I ended up falling in love with not just Tembi and Saro and Zoela as well as both of their families, but also with the community in the Sicilian countryside of Aliminusa.  I definitely recommend picking this one up, but have a box of tissues nearby because it will absolutely be needed. 

P.S.: I just found out that Tembi Locke published a follow up to From Scratch in September of last year, a new memoir entitled Someday, Now that chronicles her return to Sicily for one final summer before her daughter goes off to college.  I already downloaded the audiobook and can’t wait to listen!

Review: How to American: An Immigrant's Guide to Disappointing Your Parents (by Jimmy O. Yang)

My Rating: 5 stars

Prior to Crazy Rich Asians, I actually had never heard of Jimmy O. Yang, but after watching and loving that movie, I started reading up on everything I could find related to the filming of the adaptation.  In doing so, I found out that Jimmy is actually from Hong Kong like me, which of course piqued my interest –  then after watching his comedy specials where he talks about his struggles with identity and belonging in his journey immigrating from Hong Kong to the United States and how he overcome the odds to become a successful Chinese-American entertainer in Hollywood, I eventually became a fan. 

Aside from some of the biographical details that we both have in common (born in Hong Kong and immigrated with family to Los Angeles as a child, parents from Shanghai, fluent in English, Cantonese, Mandarin, and Shanghainese, etc.), there was so much of Jimmy’s immigrant experience overall that resonated deeply with me – specifically, his struggle with identity and belonging and thinking that he had to do everything he could to assimilate and fit in, yet at the end of the day, it still wasn’t enough in that he would still feel that he was constantly “caught between two cultures and their polarizing beliefs.”  As an immigrant myself, this struggle to reconcile two disparate cultures is one that I understand profoundly, which is perhaps why I’m so drawn to Jimmy’s brand of comedy.  Both of his previous comedy specials (entitled “Good Deal” and “Guess How Much”) center on his experiences as an Asian immigrant in America, though a large part also focuses on his interactions with his very Chinese-minded parents, which I definitely could relate to (the subtitle of his book is “An Immigrant’s Guide to Disappointing Your Parents” which I found both hilarious and very fitting).  Speaking of his parents, I absolutely love the dynamic of the O. Yang family – Jimmy actually takes his dad (whom I’m obligated to call Uncle Richard – if you’re wondering why, reference the “Top 5 Chinese rules” in Jimmy’s book) and sometimes his mom (Auntie Amy) on tour with him and seeing their various interactions is so hilarious, especially during those instances when Jimmy pretends to be resentful over the fact that nowadays, Uncle Richard is more popular than him and he mock complains about audiences clamoring to get their picture taken with his dad rather than with him, lol.

I’ve actually known about Jimmy’s book for a couple of years and bought a physical copy when it first came out, but unfortunately never got around to reading it.  Turns out this was a blessing in disguise, as Jimmy’s book is actually best experienced in audiobook format -- not only does Jimmy read the book himself, he also does a lot of improvising and ad libs some interesting tidbits in the audio version that are not in the print version (for example - he’ll give some side commentary on something he wrote or more hilariously, he’ll say something like “omg, I can’t believe I actually wrote that!”). As those who have seen his stand up can probably attest to, Jimmy is very lively and animated when it comes to his comedy routines and he brings the same delightful energy to his audiobook performance – his “Jimmy ah!” imitation of his mom and dad is so on point that I can’t help cracking a smile each time I hear it.

My absolute favorite section of the book was chapter 2 (titled “How to Immigrant”) where Jimmy talks at length about his culture shock when he first arrived in Los Angeles from Hong Kong as a young, impressionable 13-year-old. This chapter made me laugh so much that I had to take a break before going onto the next chapter so I could recover.  I cracked up so hard at his bit about Pizza Hut (which, for those who may not be aware, is actually a fancy sit-down restaurant “with a swanky salad bar” in Hong Kong as opposed to the standing-room only “kitchen for pizza delivery” hole in the wall that it is here in the U.S.) and the incredulity in his voice when he wondered how “the authentic version [of Pizza Hut] could be so much sh***ier than the foreign version” (actually, the same can be said for many of the American fast food chains in Hong Kong – they are all VERY different from how they are here).  Also, the bit about having his first American meal at his grandpa’s “favorite restaurant in LA” that served “authentic Mexican food” was downright hilarious – the “restaurant” happened to be El Pollo Loco, but for 13-year-old “fresh off the boat” Jimmy, it was unlike any place he had eaten at before.  The way he described it was essentially like paradise – not only could he get as many soda refills as he wanted, there was also the “magical kingdom of flavor and color” that was the restaurant’s salsa bar – the fact that both the soda refills and the salsa were free and they could help themselves to as much as they liked completely blew little Jimmy’s mind.  This was the beauty of listening to Jimmy narrate his own book – it felt like having an old friend sit you down in real life and listening to them tell you about their experiences. 

Listening to this audiobook was such a fun experience!  I definitely recommend that anyone interested in reading this book go for the audio version due to the enhanced reading experience.   Even though a lot of what Jimmy writes about in his book will probably be familiar to those who’ve watched his comedy specials or followed his career, that’s okay because his lively, spirited narration makes it all come across fresh and engaging. 

As a side note – Jimmy kicked off the Asian leg of his current “Big and Tall” standup tour in our mutual home city of Hong Kong over the summer (all 5 shows at the iconic Hong Kong Coliseum sold out in minutes!) and even though I didn’t get a chance to watch his performance live (bummer), I did follow all of the news stories and watched all the interviews he did with the local press over there, which was a fun experience in and of itself, but it also turned out to be a great lead-up to reading this book, so I would recommend that route as well.

Review: Wild for Austen: A Rebellious, Subversive, and Untamed Jane (by Devoney Looser)

My Rating:  4 stars

My celebration of Jane Austen’s 250^th birthday continues with more Austen-centered books.  This time around, I chose to read the newest essay collection from Austen scholar Devoney Looser (whose Great Courses on Austen is also worth checking out).  Those of us who have studied Austen in any capacity are probably familiar with her family’s (specifically her brother Henry Austen and her nephew James Edward Austen Leigh) attempts to paint Austen as a quiet, timid, submissive woman who “never uttered either a hasty, a silly, or a severe expression” – a “myth” that many Austen scholars have “debunked” over the years through close study of Austen’s own words (as relayed through her surviving letters) as well as her various works of both fiction and nonfiction.  Looser’s latest book – also a tribute to Austen’s 250^th birthday -- is another worthwhile attempt to debunk the “Jane Austen as a quiet spinster” myth.  The title of Looser’s book says it all – through a deeply researched exploration of various aspects of Austen’s life (and writings), Looser sets out to show the “wild side” of the beloved author while at the same time, demonstrate why so many of us continue to be “wild for Austen” in a legacy that has lasted for more than two centuries.

The book is divided into 3 sections, with part I covering pretty much all of Austen’s writing, from the Juvenilia of her teenage years to her six completed novels, as well as her two uncompleted novels (fragments) and beyond – Looser even includes excerpts from Austen’s letters and some poems she wrote (the latter of which doesn’t get usually much coverage even among the most ardent of Austen aficionados).  Part II explores the Austen family’s “wild connections,” or what Looser states in her Introduction as “the relatives, neighbors, and friends who brought her close to wild adventures, experiences, fortunes, and misfortunes.”  Part III is perhaps the most interesting in that it explores Jane Austen’s legacy and fandom – the “people who’ve gone wild over her after her death, especially those who created new uses for and versions of her powerful stories.”  I found this last section quite fascinating, especially the chapter on the P&P adaptations that didn’t end up happening (not necessarily a bad thing, to be honest) as well as some of the stories about Austen’s various “afterlives” – the good, the bad, the ugly, and the weird(?) – several of which were truly “wild.”

As a Jane Austen fan, I definitely enjoyed this book.  Further though, I appreciate Devoney Looser’s take on Austen’s legacy and the necessity of finding the right balance in both how we approach her works and how we view Austen the author.  This quote from Looser’s concluding chapter I feel illustrates this point best: “By jettisoning the idea of [Austen] as perfect, timeless, or universal, we also allow ourselves to see the ways in which her outsized influence and popularity have done good for some but may also have caused harm to others…I believe those of us who say we love her owe it to her, to ourselves, and to those who say they’ve been harmed in some way by her books or their legacy to look more deeply at the full range of effects they’ve had, past and present.”  Sound advice that could apply not just to Austen, but also any other author or public figure essentially.