Review: Gone Girl (by Gillian Flynn)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I’ll just say it right off the bat:  my thoughts about this book are of the “outlier” variety so if that’s going to be a problem, my suggestion would be to stop reading this review right here.

Okay, for those still with me, here it goes…. 

First off, I decided to finally pick this book up not because I really wanted to read it, but rather, to satisfy my curiosity. Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl came out back in 2012 and in the 14 years since then, I’ve heard it referred to over and over again, in various contexts, year after year, pretty much endlessly:  this is the book that started the psychological suspense craze, the book that made the whole “twist” phenomenon a household name, the book that made having the word “girl” in the title a surefire hit, the book that single-handedly launched the “cool girl” trend, etc. etc.  Having read my fair share of psychological thrillers / suspense novels over the years (novels which, supposedly, all owe a debt to Gone Girl in some way, shape, or form if they were published after 2012 – at least that’s what I was made to believe), I wanted to finally read this “mother of psychological suspense novels” to, yes, see what all the hype was about.

From a craft standpoint – plot, character, structure, pacing, etc.—this book is indeed brilliantly written (which, I have to make clear, is very different from being “well”-written).  I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say that this book, the way it is written, can be considered a masterclass on how to write compelling, page-turning psychological suspense, especially in the way that Flynn goes deep into the twisted minds of two truly deranged individuals and picks apart, in detail, what spurs their every thought, feeling, and action. Sure, we may not agree with the way these characters behave throughout the story (though that’s putting it mildly – I was actually disgusted by both main characters for the entire read), but we do come to an understanding of WHY they behave that way.  To be honest, it wasn’t hard to tell from the get go that Nick and Amy were not good people and their toxic relationship was a train wreck waiting to happen – yet by the same token, it was also hard to look away when, ultimately, the train slammed into the wall and created a grotesque mess that seemed impossible to clean up (and yes, despite how miserable I knew the experience would be, I couldn’t help reading on to see if and/or how they clean up the mess).

With all that said however, the main reason why this book didn’t work for me was because I hated EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER.  As other reviewers have pointed out, the story is dark and twisty, with so much violence, abuse, sex, gratuitous cursing, etc. – which, yes, can be a turn off, but for me, the dealbreaker was actually the characters and the horrible, despicable way they behave throughout the entire story.  The characters don’t make any attempt to change, there is no redemption arc, no comeuppance for bad behavior, no remorse or repentance, no repercussions for criminal acts – for pretty much the entirety of the 400+ pages (20+ hours on audio), these characters remain both pretentiously narcissistic and overwhelmingly self-absorbed, to the point that, throughout the entire time I was reading, I felt like there was not a single moment where any of the characters deserved even an ounce of sympathy from me. 

So basically, my overall opinion of this book is that it is very much overrated.  Now, would my opinion of this book be different if I had read this when it first came out 14 years ago?  Perhaps yes and perhaps no.  But the truth of the matter is that, over the past 14 years, I’ve read enough psychological thrillers with “twists” ranging from the jaw-dropping to the “you call that a twist?” variety that, in a way, I’ve pretty much seen it all, at least that’s what it feels like.  To this point, I found the twist in this book to be a bit anticlimactic in the sense that by the time I got to the end of part 1, I already figured out what was going to happen.

One last but very important point is that I chose to listen to this via audio, even though I had a paperback copy available on my shelf.  I’m glad I did so because the audio format proved to be the best way to take in this book.   Of course, the bonus content in the audio book version – including a special chapter written from the perspective of Amy as a child that provides insight into her upbringing and relationship with her parents – is a definite perk, but the real draw is the fantastic performance from the audiobook’s two narrators, Kirby Heyborne and (one of my personal favorites) Julia Whelan.  For me, it is precisely because of the outstanding job by both narrators that I ended up rating this 3.5 stars – if I had just read the book and didn’t listen to the audio version, I seriously would’ve rated this 2 stars or lower.

Review: Big Little Lies (by Liane Moriarty)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Rating: 5 stars

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

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

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

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

Review: Know My Name (by Chanel Miller)

My Rating: 4 stars

This poignant and unforgettable memoir was difficult to read at times, but well worth the time spent.  I listened to the audiobook version where Chanel Miller recounts her harrowing experience of sexual assault in her own voice, which made this an especially powerful read.  In narrating her story, Chanel is candid about what she went through, laying everything out in explicit, gut-wrenching detail: the physical, mental, and emotional toll that the assault and subsequent years-long trial had on her; the excruciating pain of having to watch as the defense dragged her own and her beloved sisters’ reputations through the mud; the callous disregard for basic human decency; the attempts to reframe the narrative through victim-shaming and blaming, and worst of all, the injustice of a lenient sentence handed down by a judge sympathetic to the perpetrator. 

Reading Chanel’s memoir reinforced for me how broken our criminal justice system truly is – I mean, it is run by humans after all.  Sadly, one of my biggest takeaways from reading about Chanel’s experience is the painful realization of how cruel the system can be and it’s no wonder why so many victims would choose to suffer in the shadows rather than step into the light. It takes an immense amount of courage to face the criticisms, scrutiny, and judgement of strangers and acquaintances alike, especially with emotions running high on all sides.  What saddened and angered me the most was seeing how the ordeal not only upended Chanel’s life, but also the lives of her family members – for example, having to rearrange school and work schedules in order to accommodate constantly changing court dates, or having to drop everything and show up to court at a moment’s notice or lose the opportunity to make your voice heard.  In essence, the victim’s life is, at best, negatively impacted or at worst, irrevocably destroyed – with these types of odds, who would want to risk it?   I applaud Chanel’s strength and courage in not only standing up for herself (against an unfair and unjust system, no less), but also inspiring so many others to do the same.

This memoir is definitely a must-read in any format, but I would of course recommend listening to the audiobook version for an especially powerful experience.

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: Uncommon Type: Some Stories (by Tom Hanks)

My Rating: 4 stars

Tom Hanks is one of my favorite (Hollywood) celebrities so of course, when I first found out about his short story collection, I rushed out and bought a copy as soon as it came out back in 2017.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to read the book when I bought it (because, well, life happened), and so it has been sitting on my TBR all these years. In a way, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as this was one of the first books I thought of when I decided to restart my audiobook journey and boy am I glad I went with this format because the audiobook experience was absolutely FANTASTIC!  I mean, seriously, for a Tom Hanks fan, what better way is there to experience a book than to have Hanks narrate it to me?  And with the bonus of Hanks’s award-winning acting chops, all the stories came alive in a way that would not have been possible if I had just “read” this book as is.  As if that weren’t enough though, Hanks gave audiobook listeners a special treat by having a few of his famous celebrity friends join him in a full cast production of the one short story in his book that is a essentially a movie script -- in addition to Peter Scolari and Holland Taylor (Bosom Buddies reunion right there!!), Hanks also enlisted Peter Gerety, Cecily Strong, and Wilmer Valderrama to perform the story “Stay With Us” -- which, by itself, was already well worth the price of admission in my opinion.

Most short story collections are linked together by a common theme and this one was definitely no exception – as Hanks has mentioned in interviews, the common feature that links all these stories together is the typewriter (or shall I say “typewriters” in the plural form).  Yes, in each of the 17 stories in this collection, Hanks finds a way to have a typewriter play a part – whether in a “blink-and-you’ll-miss-it” background role (or to use a more acting-appropriate term, an “extra”), a supporting role where it is featured in a few scenes only, or in a central “leading” role where the story pretty much revolves around it. (Another reason to go with the audiobook version – the typewriter sound effects that Hanks actually performs!).  Not only that, some of the stories also take different forms – in addition to the movie script format mentioned earlier, some are written in a newsletter format while others are in the format of journal entries written in first person.  The icing on the cake for me though, is the fact that Hanks typed up all the stories on his own collection of vintage typewriters (definitely no easy feat in the modern age given the ubiquitous ease and speed of typing on a computer).

Overall, I found this collection delightful, entertaining, and tremendously enjoyable.  Of course, as Hanks is not a professional writer, I was not expecting these stories to be particularly literary or brilliantly written, which is why I was surprised (and confounded) to see so many “complaints” about this aspect of the book -- at one point, I read reviews where people were trying to compare Hanks to Ann Patchett or Fredrik Backman, which honestly makes absolutely zero sense to me given that, again, Hanks is not a writer by trade – it’s like trying to compare apples to bananas and saying they should both have the same taste/texture/look by virtue of both being from the broader fruit family (for the record, I have an English Literature degree, I read tons of literary fiction, and I’m a diehard fan of both Patchett and Backman, yet never once did it cross my mind as I was reading Hanks’s story collection that I should be holding it up to the same literary standards as other professional writers).  In any case, I will leave it at that…

Lastly, just a quick mention that, like with all short story collections, there were some that grabbed me more than others.  Some of the stories that majority of people liked (such as the most critically acclaimed “Welcome to Mars” and “Alan Bean Plus Four” that had appeared in the New Yorker) I actually didn’t take to as much (mostly because I’m not keen on science fiction or time travel).  Instead, I prefer the more humanistic stories about ordinary life and the “good, bad, ugliness” of the human condition.  So for me, my favorite stories from this collection are as follows:  

“Christmas Eve 1953”

“A Month on Greene Street”

“Who’s Who?”

“A Special Weekend”

“These are the Meditations of My Heart”

“Go See Costas”

“Stay With Us”

 

I definitely recommend this collection, though I would highly suggest going with the audiobook version, as I feel that, in this instance, it makes a huge difference in terms of the reading experience.  If I had read this in print instead, my opinion of it might actually be different, which is why I mentioned from the getgo that I’m glad I listened to the audiobook version. With that said, given the different formatting with a few of the stories, it might be a good idea to also check out the print version since those might not always come across clearly in audio.

Review: Northanger Abbey (by Jane Austen)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Rating: 5 stars

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

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

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

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

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

Review: Dreaming in Cuban (by Cristina Garcia)

 My Rating: 4 stars

The past few months have been a bit of a crazy, chaotic whirlwind for me and while I’ve continued to do tons of reading, I’ve unfortunately been less diligent with the review side of things (mostly due to lack of time) – which is why I’m grateful to have a couple weeks off now and in December so I can finally catch up, both on the backlogged reviews that I didn’t get a chance to write as well as on the teetering stack of books that I have not gotten around to reading yet (the stack is literally inches away, right next to my keyboard, threatening to topple over as I type this).

 

One of the books I finished earlier in the month is Cuban American author Cristina Garcia’s debut novel Dreaming in Cuban, which came out back in 1992.  I picked this one up because it was assigned reading for one of my classes, which of course made me skeptical about whether this would be a tedious read and whether I would actually enjoy it. 

 

The story revolves around three generations of the del Pino family and the devastating impact that the Cuban revolution has on them.  The narrative alternates between the perspectives of Celia (the matriarch of the del Pino family who still lives in Cuba), Lourdes (one of Celia’s three children who flees with her husband to the U.S. at the height of the Cuban revolution), and Pilar (Lourdes’s daughter who is caught between two the American world she lives in and the Cuban world of her heritage).  In addition to the interesting format that the story is told in (a combination of third person, first person, and epistolary), there are also magical realism elements sprinkled throughout the narrative, though not in a heavy-handed manner (which I was glad to see because magical realism can be a hit or miss for me). 

 

This is one of those novels that has a complex plot involving multiple characters (I’m grateful for the character chart that Garcia includes at the beginning of the book) with a deeply profound underlying message that takes a little bit of patience to get to. 

 

Overall, I wouldn’t say that I “enjoyed” the book, as there was a lot of hard stuff in this one that had to be parsed through, but I definitely liked and appreciated it, especially for the unique insight it provided into the Cuban American experience.  I would say that if this is a perspective that interests you, this one is well worth picking up, though be aware that trigger warnings abound.

Review: And the Mountains Echoed (by Khaled Hosseini)

My Rating: 5 stars

Don’t expect his review to be a long one because I honestly don’t have the words to describe how I felt reading this beautifully written book. From the moment I read the interesting first line – “So, then. You want a story and I will tell you one. But just the one…” – I was preparing myself for an absorbing story, but I didn’t anticipate how truly exquisite the experience would be. Khaled Hosseini is indeed a masterful storyteller, but this novel also proves that he is a masterful writer as well.  Unlike his previous 2 novels, Hosseini employs a unique structure this time around in the form of a series of interlinked stories across nine chapters, each narrated from the perspective of a different character.  The format is nonlinear, with the narrative jumping back and forth between various settings (from Afghanistan to Paris to California to the Greek island of Tinos) and timelines (1940s through 2010).  Each chapter comes across vignette-like, where we get a glimpse into the life of each individual character, some of whom narrate their own stories in first person, while others are told in third person, with one chapter that is completely epistolary.  On the surface, it may not be readily apparent how each character’s story correlates with the other, but once I got to the end of the book, I couldn’t help but marvel at Hosseini’s genius in structuring the narrative this way.  Interconnectedness is a huge theme in the novel and Hosseini demonstrates this in multiple ways – through the plot and story, through the characters, and especially through the narrative’s structure.

 

Emotionally, this was one of those books that was simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting -- to the point that I lost count of how many times the story and its characters broke my heart and then put it back together again. There were many moving and poignant moments that triggered a jumble of different emotions – sadness, anger, confusion, awe, wonder, surprise, relief, dread, hope, etc. (just to name a few).  Hosseini presents humanity and all its emotional complexities in such a realistic (yet not overwhelming) way that you get the sense he truly understands human nature -- the ‘good, bad, and ugly’ that resides in all of us.  The story is filled with flawed characters who find themselves in various morally and ethically ambiguous dilemmas – much life we would in real life – yet through it all, and despite the poor decisions that some of them make, I felt like I understood where they were coming from and so I couldn’t help wanting to root for all of them (with the exception of one or two characters).  This is illustrated best through the words of one of the story’s most prominent characters, Dr. Markos, a Greek plastic surgeon who dedicates many years of his life providing care to those in Afghanistan who sustained physical injuries and deformities from the violence and fighting: “If I've learned anything in Kabul, it is that human behaviour is messy and unpredictable and unconcerned with convenient symmetries.”

 

I’ve had Khaled Hosseini on my list of “must-read” authors for years (on the advice of multiple trusted reader friends who are huge fans of his works) and actually have all 3 of his novels sitting on my shelf, but regretfully, I hadn’t been able to get to his works until now. I started with And the Mountains Echoed first because that is the novel I’m studying in my Literature class, but I hope to also read his two previous (and even more famous) novels at some point as well.

 

Review: Mansfield Park (by Jane Austen)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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