Review: Big Little Truths (by Liane Moriarty)

My Rating: 4 stars

In her first ever sequel Big Little Truths, Liane Moriarity takes us back to the world of one of her most popular books, Big Little Lies, where we are reunited with Madeline, Celeste, Jane, Bonnie, and Renata on the Pirriwee Peninsula in Australia. It is 10 years later and the precocious kindergarteners from the first book are now teenagers in high school.  Dealing with all the drama that comes with the territory of parenting teenagers is already fraught and difficult, but add to that a parent having to manage a health crisis, a mother-in-law who may or may not have dementia, an illicit vaping business at school, a marriage at a crossroads, a strange man approaching young girls asking weird questions, and unsurprisingly, parents and kids alike having to deal with the fallout of the incident from the first book.  Oh and let’s not forget the inciting incident that opens the sequel – the principal at the high school that all the kids attend receives a severed human finger in the mail, which triggers an investigation by the same bumbling police detective from the first book.  All of this allows Moriarty to employ a similar format as the first book – a narrative with short chapters told from the alternating perspectives of the main characters that is interspersed with updates on the investigation from the detective, school announcements from the principal, WhatsApp chat excerpts from the parent groups, and excerpts from interview sessions, though this time around, instead of parents giving their testimony in a police interrogation, it is the children talking to a counselor (about a situation that will be revealed at the end of the story).

As she did with its predecessor, Moriarty does a great job here juxtaposing the silly human foibles (i.e. feeling indignant about getting upstaged at one’s birthday party) with the serious life and death issues (i.e. dealing with a family member’s cancer diagnosis), creating a delicate blend of heart and humor that makes this book a simultaneously delightful and reflective read.  Again, Moriarty covers a lot of ground in terms of social issues and themes, yet she is such a compelling storyteller that the story flows seamlessly and effortlessly – despite its length, this book never feels overwhelming or tedious to read.  Case in point – I finished this book (listening to the audio and reading the physical book in tandem) in 2 days because I just had to know what was going to happen.

With all that said, I have to admit that I enjoyed the first book a tad more than the sequel (I had actually rated Big Little Lies 4.5 stars whereas I rated the sequel 4 stars) – I can’t pintpoint exactly why, but I’m thinking perhaps the drama and politics in that story were lower stakes, so Moriarty could ratchet up the “ridiculous” factor (i.e.: the outlandish actions and reactions of the parents, especially Madeline) a bit more and therefore make the story overall much funnier (and I felt like I could laugh without restraint).  Also, the “twist” in the first book, while serious, kind of kept the kids out of it for the most part.  By comparisons, some of the themes in the sequel were a lot more serious (definitely went beyond the “typical petty schoolyard drama” from the first book), plus the “twist” here directly involved the kids – I guess for me, the overall higher stakes of the “drama” kind of made it uncomfortable to laugh as freely as I did at some of the events that occurred in this book versus the first one.  Still, this is brilliantly written and especially good on audio as narrated by Caroline Lee, who was the narrator for the first book as well.  The audio narration was excellent as expected, though my one (minor) complaint would be the segments with the counseling session excerpts – unlike with the audio for the first book, the narrator didn’t identify each person speaking this time around and since all the voices sounded the same, I couldn’t tell who was saying what.  Luckily, I had also bought a print copy of the book, so for those sections, I decided to read the conversations in tandem while listening – not a dealbreaker of course, but it did slow things down a little.

Needless to say, if you read and enjoyed Big Little Lies, this sequel is a must-read.  If you haven’t read the first book, well, you actually shouldn’t read this one because despite everyone swearing up and down that this sequel can be read as a standalone, that is actually not true, as the sequel not only gives away the ending to the first book, it also refers back to things that happened in that story and some of the aftermath as well as impact on the characters that likely will not make sense without the context from the first book.  And no, having watched the HBO series adaptation doesn’t really count because they changed a lot of things in that series, including the ending (besides, as Moriarity makes clear in her Author’s Note, this sequel is to the actual book, not the series).

 

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 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: Everyday Movement (by Gigi L. Leung, translated by Jennifer Feeley)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As the city of my birth, Hong Kong has always occupied a special place in my heart.  Of course, I still have relatives in Hong Kong, but it is really my fondness for the city (despite growing up thousands of miles away in the United States), that has spurred me to continue keeping my birth city front and center.  From a daily life standpoint, I stay abreast of Hong Kong-related news just as much as I keep tabs on everything happening in the U.S.  From an entertainment standpoint, I’m actually more familiar with the goings-on in the HK entertainment industry than I am in Hollywood (which is truly saying something considering I live in Los Angeles, so Hollywood is essentially in my backyard).  With all that said, the one area in my life where HK is a bit less dominant is my reading life, though I have to say that this is by no means deliberate.  As a life-long avid reader, I’ve always been one to read widely, so even though I definitely have favorite genres (i.e. historical fiction, literary fiction, to name two), I don’t like limiting myself to reading only specific genres or specific types of books.  When it comes to Hong Kong books however, I unfortunately don’t have much choice due to the dearth of books about the city published in English (and living in the U.S., it is harder for me to access the Chinese language versions that are usually published exclusively in HK).  So in the rare occurrence where I come across a book either set in Hong Kong or written by a Hong Kong author, I will always be interested in reading it, regardless of subject matter and in spite of any type of feedback regarding the book, whether positive or negative.

With all this in mind, I approached Gigi L. Leung’s novel Everyday Movement with a certain amount of anticipation, despite my usual aversion to reading books that lean heavily toward politics.  Set against the backdrop of the 2019 pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong, Leung’s novel actually consists of a series of interconnected vignettes about people from different walks of life who are impacted by the protests going on all around them.  As the story opens, we get glimpses of what life is like for college roommates Panda and Ah Lei, as they navigate their new reality as active participants in the many protests that occur on Hong Kong’s streets triggered by the central government’s planned implementation of a national security law.  At night, Panda and Ah Lei don their protest gear and are regularly chased and tear gassed by police out on the streets, but during the day, both women go about their usual routines – attending class, going to work, arguing with their parents and with each other, going on lunch and dinner dates, etc.  But underneath the enactment of these everyday routines lies a bubbling tension – a feeling of unease and anxiety for the future, not only of their beloved city, but of their own lives as they know it – that threatens to spill over any minute. Via alternating viewpoints, the story expands outward to capture the moments in the lives of others within the two women’s orbits: there’s Panda’s cousin Ah Mak and the fraught relationship he has with his girlfriend Chan Yeuk over each other’s commitment (or lack thereof) to the protest movement, culminating in a break up that, ironically, brings each of them closer to the other’s viewpoint; there’s Panda’s little sister Sai Mui who, as a pre-teen, is too young to understand everything that is happening around her, yet finds herself caught up in all the tension and anxiety through her sister’s love/hate relationship with their mother as they stand on opposite sides of the movement.  There are others too – periphery characters such as the hairdresser Ning On and the affair she has with a protestor nicknamed “Little Professor” as a means to escape the realities of her life while her daughter Ning Yuet doubles down on her activism; English teacher Ho Sam, a mainlander living in Hong Kong who struggles to reconcile his dueling viewpoints, at once supporting the movement while also opposing it; and finally, Panda’s boyfriend Ah Ming, whose less extreme position in support of the movement as opposed to his girlfriend’s fierce devotion creates an untenable rift in their relationship.

Overall, I felt this novel had a promising premise, but it fell a little bit short for me in terms of its execution.  Subject matter-wise, I appreciate Leung’s candid depiction of the political turmoil and the protests, all of which were rendered viscerally realistic to the point that, at times, I forgot that this is a novel and felt that I was reading a non-fiction book instead. To this point, there was a bit of a journalistic feel to the novel, where it felt as though the author was trying too hard to write from a position of neutrality, which resulted in the writing feeling somewhat stilted and emotionless.  This made it hard for me as a reader to connect with the story or any of its characters – though with all that said, I’m not sure if this was actually an issue with the translation or the author’s writing itself. I also felt that the story didn’t have much of a plot, which is usually not a problem if the characters are well-developed, but in this case, due to the varying viewpoints, the focus was on a bunch of different characters rather than just one or two, resulting in the lack of opportunity to flush out any of the characters fully.  All of this combined was perhaps why I ended up not really feeling anything for any of the characters.

While I’m glad I read this one, I’m also a little bummed that I didn’t end up liking this one as much as I thought I would.  Even though some parts of it didn’t really work for me, I would still recommend this one for its realistic portrayal of the HK protests as well as the timeliness aspect in terms of what has been going on in the U.S. as well as the rest of the world – which, for those impacted, would make this a very relatable read.

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: Sipsworth (by Simon Van Booy)

My Rating: 4 stars

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

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

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

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

Review: 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.

Review: Hamnet (by Maggie O'Farrell)

My Rating: 5 stars

From its publication date in 2020, I’ve had a copy of Maggie O’Farrell’s novel Hamnet both on my TBR and on my bookshelf, but for reasons I won’t get into, I never got around to picking it up. It wasn’t until recent months, with the awards buzz around the critically acclaimed film adaptation making the rounds, that I was reminded I still had the book on my shelf waiting to be read, so I figured, perhaps now would be a good time to read it.

Going into this one, my expectations were high, as many of my bookish friends love O’Farrell’s works and praise this book as being her most masterful and exquisite, so of course, I had to experience it for myself.  Now after having finished reading this, I have to say that, yes, my friends were absolutely correct – though in addition to masterful and exquisite, I would also characterize O’Farrell’s writing here as both sublime and beautiful.  From the novel’s first line, I immediately felt transported back to the England of the 1500s, drawn in by the story of these two ordinary families – one living in an apartment on Henley Street and the other on a farm called Hewlands – and the extraordinary couple that emerges from their midst.  O’Farrell’s rendering of their backstory is both haunting and atmospheric, with its nonlinear jumps between past and present as well as the emotionally nuanced undertones that breathtakingly brought all the characters to vivid life. 

For the record, I am not much of a Shakespeare fan and have only read a handful of his plays (with Romeo and Juliet, unsurprisingly, being my favorite) – and it’s important to note that I have not read the famous play directly associated with this novel (though of course, as an English Literature major, I’ve had to read and analyze excerpts from Hamlet so I do have some familiarity with it).  For those who might be in the same boat as me and are concerned about whether the lack of Shakespearean literary bona fides will impact the reading experience here, I would say don’t worry about that because the focus of this story is actually not on Shakespeare.  In fact, the bard’s name is never even mentioned in the story – instead, he is either referred to based on his relationship with others in the story (i.e.: John and Mary’s son, Agnes’s husband, Hamnet’s father, etc.) or if he is mentioned individually, he is called, simply, the Latin tutor.

Rather than Shakespeare, this story is actually about his wife Anne Hathaway, who is referred to as “Agnes” in the story (in her Author’s Note, O’Farrell explains that most people know Shakespeare’s wife as Anne, but her father Richard Hathaway named her “Agnes” in his will, so O’Farrell decided to follow that example).  Labeled by many as eccentric and unconventional – a “forest witch” who seems to have the power to heal through her natural tonics and potions as well as the ability to see into people’s souls – Agnes is nonetheless a loving and fiercely protective mother who finds her world torn apart when her beloved son Hamnet dies from the plague.  O’Farrell portrays the intensity of Agnes’s grief over the loss of her son in ways both palpable and heartbreaking, to the point that I could actually feel her pain.  The last scene of the story was especially poignant and moving, with the last line continuing to haunt me even days after I finished reading this book.

This beautifully rendered reimagining of a little known aspect in the life of a literary giant is definitely a highly recommended read!  I’m not sure if I will end up watching the adaptation but I’m glad that it triggered the opportunity for me to finally read O’Farrell’s masterpiece.

 

Review: Heart the Lover (by Lily King)

My Rating: 5 stars

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

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

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

Review: Gone Before Goodbye (by Reese Witherspoon and Harlan Coben)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

Before I go into my thoughts on this book, one thing I feel compelled to start with is that I’m a bit of a cynic when it comes to books written by celebrities and/or other famous public figures who are very much “not” authors.  Part of this could be because I’m a writer myself and understand how much work (blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifice) goes into writing something worth reading – in a sense, writing is an activity bordering on “sacred” for me, so I can’t help feeling disappointed when I see celebrities attach their names onto books that they didn’t actually write themselves, but they are given all the credit for it (yes, I’m looking at you, ghostwritten celebrity memoirs).  Now before I get attacked by any fans, I need to make it clear that I am not saying that’s what happened here, since, to Reese’s credit, she has been very forthcoming from the getgo about the fact that she did not write this book herself, rather it is a “collaboration” with established author Harlan Coben. Further, Reese has said in interviews (as well as in the Acknowledgements pages at the back of the book) that she provided the “seed of an idea” for the story and Coben was the one who turned it into “a fully fleshed-out, page-turning thriller” – so yes, I acknowledge that this situation is not on the same level as those ghostwritten books where the “real” author is given little to no recognition.

With that said however, I will be honest in saying that, after finishing this book, I can’t help but wonder about Reese’s involvement in its writing – specifically, did she write some of it or none at all?  The reason I say this is because the entire novel felt very “Coben-esque” in the sense that it read very much like a plotty action thriller with too many macho male characters, too few underdeveloped female characters, and tons of action scenes involving gun fights, helicopters, car and motorcycle chases, death-defying stunts, etc.  In other words, the book seems to be geared more toward Coben’s fans than Reese’s.  I also can’t help but be reminded of a question that had come up back when the Reese Witherspoon/Harlan Coben collaboration was first announced:  given that Reese’s Hello Sunshine media brand “puts women at the center of every story across all platforms” (this is from the blurb on the book’s back cover) and the books she chooses for her Book Club are all written by female authors, why would she choose a male author to collaborate with for her debut novel?  Doesn’t this contradict what Reese tries to do with her brand?  Indeed, judging from her book club picks (for the record, I’m not a Reese fan, but I do follow her book club because majority of the books she chooses to feature happen to fit my reading tastes), I was expecting Reese’s debut novel to be a collaboration with a female author (perhaps one she has featured in her book club) and more in the vein of a high concept literary suspense / thriller with a strong female protagonist at its center.  Turns out I had the wrong expectations.

Don’t get me wrong – this book had an interesting premise and I would say that I did “enjoy” it overall, but it didn’t blow me away.  There were the expected twists and turns (Coben is a seasoned suspense / thriller writer after all), though as usual, I was able to figure most of the plot points out early on, so the suspense portion was a little lacking.  Also, the ending kind of left me scratching my head -- it felt anti-climactic to me given how “action-packed” the rest of the story was (though it could be that I just didn’t “get” the ending).

In any case, this was an overall entertaining read that I’m sure fans of action thrillers will love, but if, like me, you’re not keen on action thrillers, then you might want to temper your expectations if you decide to pick this one up.  Also, one last thing to note is that, given the premise, there are a lot of details related to the medical and technology fields throughout the book – personally, I felt it was a bit much and at times, the technical jargon kind of bogged down parts of the plot, but again, this could just be me not being into the “science-y” stuff…my guess is that this won’t be  a problem for most folks who decide to read this one.