Review: Unlikely Animals (by Annie Hartnett)

My Rating:  4.5 stars



Annie Hartnett's Unlikely Animals is a quirky, unique, interesting story – the likes of which I can honestly say that I've never read before.  I'm actually not sure if I'll be able to describe the "uniqueness" of this story accurately – I will certainly try, but I recommend reading this one yourself to get the full experience of it.

 

On the surface, this sounds like a perfectly ordinary "small-town homecoming" story where the main protagonist Emma Starling decides to return home to her family in Everton, New Hampshire after having dropped out of med school in California.   Having lost her way, Emma was hoping to escape back to her hometown to "figure things out" and put her life back on track, which turns out to be easier said than done given what she has to face upon arrival:  her judgmental mother Ingrid who doesn't seem to approve of anything she does; her younger brother Auggie, whom Emma has always been at odds with growing up, with their relationship deteriorating even further after Auggie's recent stint in rehab; and her father Clive, who is dying from a degenerative brain disease that causes him to hallucinate not just small animals, but also the ghost of a long-dead naturalist, Ernest Harold Baynes.  But that's not all….Emma is also shocked to find out that her best friend from high school, Crystal Nash, has been missing for months, but with the local police writing the case off due to Crystal's drug use prior to her disappearance, no one is making an effort to find her – that is, except for Emma's dad Clive, who remains steadfast in his belief that Crystal must still be alive and so spends most of his days putting up missing persons posters all around town.  What ensues is a series of events that come together and form a story that is both poignant and wistful, yet also funny and heartwarming, all at the same time. 

 

One of the things that made this story so unique was Harnett's ability to combine the realistic and the fanciful to such great effect.  On the one hand, there were characters who felt so real, with their universally relatable struggles, having to deal with real-life issues such as drug addiction, infidelity, terminal illness, parental expectations and judgment, strained friendships, sibling rivalry, the ups and downs of relationships in general, etc. – basically ordinary people dealing with familiar situations that so many of us could resonate with.  Yet on the other hand, there were also fantastical elements that were more than a little "magical" – such as a character hallucinating small animals and having conversations with a ghost, a cute pet fox that is friendly with humans and acts more like a dog than a fox, a giant white dog that thinks and acts more like a human than a dog, and most amusing of all, an entire story narrated by the spirits of a bunch of dead folks from their "forever resting place" at the Maple Street Cemetery (this was my absolute favorite element of the story).

Genre-wise, this felt like a mashup that didn't really fit neatly in any one category.  In addition to the fantasy / magical realism and contemporary fiction elements mentioned earlier, there were also elements of mystery / suspense (what happened to Crystal and the ongoing search for her), historical fiction (the story of nineteen-century robber-baron Austin Corbin, the real-life Ernest Harold Baynes, who was a naturalist once employed at the park bearing Corbin's name, and the real animals that Harold and his wife lived with during their lifetime), and some romance (a very minor element in the story).  In her Author's Note (which is a must-read) as well as in interviews, Hartnett talked about how some of the scenes in the book were based on "scraps" from her real life (such as the deer scene for example or her own experience as a sixth grade teacher when she was twenty two) — so there were some biographical elements mixed in as well!

This was a story with both humor and heart that I'm absolutely glad I got the chance to read (thank goodness for book club, as I probably wouldn't have picked this one up otherwise).  Having enjoyed this book as much as I did, I've also put Hartnett's debut novel, Rabbit Cake, on my TBR — definitely something to look forward to in the future. 

 

Review: Portrait of a Thief (by Grace D. Li)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

When I first read the premise for this book, I was really excited — I mean, how often is it that we get to see a heist story written by an Asian author?  Though having said that, calling this a heist story is a tad bit inaccurate, as it was so much more than that.  To me, the heist part was more of a secondary arc in the story — the core narrative was actually a well-told, nuanced exploration of Chinese-American identity, of colonialism and the repatriation of art, of culture and history, of immigration and the Chinese diaspora, of love and loss and the weight of family expectations, etc.  In a sense, the heists were merely a means to an end, a jumping off point for the journey of self-discovery that the five main characters — "the crew" of Will, Irene, Lily, Daniel, and Alex — embark on.  

For me, as a member of the Chinese diaspora, this examination of identity and belonging was deeply and wholeheartedly felt.  I resonated with different aspects of each character and also recognized the inner struggles that motivated many of their actions.  This was also a story about relationships, with its many nuances as well as complexities, and the flawed characters trying to navigate them:  with Will and Irene, it's their inability to truly understand each other deep down that creates a sibling love/hate rivalry where they are constantly competing against each other; with Daniel, it's his inability to let go of past loss and hurt that drives a wedge between him and his father;  with Alex, it is the weight of family obligation and responsibility, where unspoken expectations affect every decision she makes;  with Lily, it's the search for belonging, trying to understand her roots and making something of herself in the hopes that she can stop feeling so adrift.  The five of them, each with different insights into the world that drive their motivations, are brought together by a shared culture and an impossible job offer that could change their lives in both good ways and bad.  

I really enjoyed this story and of course, since I related to it in a profound way, I highly recommend reading this one  — however it's important to go into it with the right expectations.  Despite what the people marketing this book would have you believe, this is very much a character-driven story rather than a plot-driven one — which is why, as so many reviews already pointed out, even though this is supposed to be a heist story, there is actually not much "action" that happens.  The blurb for the book mentions that this story is "Ocean's Eleven meets The Farewell" — having watched both of those movies, I would say the overall feel of this one, especially with its nuanced exploration of identity and relationships, is closer to The Farewell than the Ocean's franchise.  I mention this because it seems that quite a few readers picked this one up expecting an action-packed heist story similar to Ocean's Eleven, but came away disappointed.  This is definitely not an action or adventure story…even calling it a thriller is a huge stretch, in my opinion. Regardless though, to me, it was a great story with an interesting premise and endearing (albeit flawed and sometimes frustrating) characters.  This was fantastic debut novel and now I can't wait for author Grace D. Li's next book (which I heard is forthcoming very soon)!

Review: The Violin Conspiracy (by Brendan Slocumb)

 My Rating:  4 stars

 

I’ve read my fair share of thrillers / mystery novels over the years and while occasionally, I’ll come across one that completely blows me away (a recent example that comes to mind is Jean Hanff Korelitz’s The Plot), there comes a point where most of the thrillers I read start to sound so similar that I feel like it’s a waste of time to pick them up.  Given this context, when one of my book clubs decided to choose a thriller for our monthly read, I couldn’t help but feel just a tad bit weary – I even debated at one point whether I should pick this one up or not.  In the end, I decided to go for it, and I’m so glad I did because this one turned out to be more than just a “run-of-the-mill” thriller.  In fact, I would even say that the thriller / mystery aspect was more of a sub-arc than the main story (more on this later).

 

Ray McMillian has a passion for playing the violin and also the natural talent to match, but as a Black kid growing up in Charlotte, North Carolina, he has neither the resources nor the opportunities to realize his dream of becoming a professional musician.  Aside from the fact that his family doesn’t support him – his mom wants him to get a “real” job in order to pay the bills, while the rest of his aunts and uncles are to absorbed with their own lives to care about his impractical dreams – there’s also the reality of the inherent racism in the classical music world, which Ray has already gotten a glimpse of being the only Black kid in his high school music class (his teacher essentially refuses to teach him and the white kids go out of their way to make him feel that he doesn’t belong there).  Only his Grandma Nora, whom he goes and visits every couple of months, loves and supports him unconditionally.  On one of his visits, his grandma gives him a fiddle that once belonged to his great-grandfather.  Later on, Ray meets Dr. Janice Stevens, a music teacher at Markham University who becomes his mentor — her support, along with his great grandfather’s precious fiddle, help Ray tap into his potential and puts him on the path to realizing his dream.  But then he discovers that the fiddle he now owns is actually a rare Stradivarius worth millions of dollars, and almost immediately, two families try to lay claim to it — Ray’s own family, including his mother, as well as the descendants of the family that had once enslaved his great-grandfather.  However, the worst is yet to come when, o few weeks before the Tchaikovsky Competition, Ray’s violin is stolen, throwing his life into upheaval and threatening everything he had worked for.  As Ray embarks on a desperate mission to find his violin, he begins to lose hope that he will ever see his precious Strad again.

 

On the surface, the narrative seems to revolve around the mystery of the stolen violin, but the story actually goes much deeper than that.  To me, the main story arc actually revolves around Ray’s journey to realizing his dream of becoming a professional violinist and the many obstacles he faced because of the color of his skin.  In Brendan Slocumb’s author’s note at the back of the book (which is an absolute must-read!), he talks about how some of the most racially charged events in the book were actually based on his own life experiences as a Black man and violinist trying to forge his path in the mostly White arena of classical music.  He also writes how, when he shares his encounters with racism with friends who don’t look like him, he usually gets a variation of the “it can’t be true / things aren’t really like that” reaction — wanting to recount his experiences as well as paint a realistic picture of the kinds of struggles that people of color face everyday, are partly what inspired him to write this book.  [Case in point:  as I’m writing this review, a story just popped up in the news about a cop in Phoenix who put a Black journalist in handcuffs when all he did was interview customers in front of a bank.]  As a person of color who also grew up in an environment where few people looked like me, I definitely  resonated with that aspect of the story and appreciate Slocumb sharing his experiences through the character of Ray.  

 

I’m terms of the “whodunnit” portion of the story — to be honest, it really wasn’t too hard to figure out (which I already did way early in the story).  With that said, I liked the inventiveness of the story in terms of how the violin “kidnapping” played out.  After a slew of similar-feeling thrillers, I find it refreshing to read a thriller that felt so different from the usual fare, even if the “mystery” portion of the story was not as strong.

 

This was an absolutely worthwhile read, though not an easy one by any means, as there were some gut-wrenching, visceral scenes that honestly made my blood boil (especially knowing some of those scenes were based on real life events).  Nevertheless, I appreciate the sincerity and honesty that comes through in Slocumb’s writing – specifically in the way he brings his characters to life.  This was a fine debut effort and I’m definitely looking forward to his second book (which is scheduled to come out in a couple months).

 

Review: Book Lovers (by Emily Henry)

My Rating:  4 stars

Recently, aside from reading a lot of non-fiction books (mostly related to my writing project), many of my fiction reads have been on the "serious" and "heavy" side.  Don't get me wrong though — I'm not complaining, not in the least, especially since all of those reads have been good ones.  Coincidentally though, I've also got a lot going on right now, both at work and in my personal life, resulting in fatigue and exhaustion from my stress levels being at a consistently high point.  Because of this, I felt like I needed a little bit of a break from heavier reads at the moment — I wanted something light and warm-hearted, with "feel-good" vibes that I could count on as a guarantee to lift my spirits. In going through my shelves, I came across the latest Emily Henry rom-com Book Lovers, which I had bought when it came out back in May, but hadn't gotten the chance to read yet, so I decided to go for it.  It turns out this book was the perfect choice, as it provided the exact "pick-me-up" that I was looking for, but also had emotional depth and well-drawn characters (two elements that are always important to me).

While it's true that I'm not usually a fan of romances because most are too trope-heavy for my tastes (plus I'm a bit of a cynic when it comes to this love and romance stuff), there are times when I come across a romantic tale that meets the moment for me timing-wise and this was definitely one of them.  I had actually read both of Emily Henry's previous rom-coms (Beach Read and People We Meet on Vacation) and while both were enjoyable overall, I didn't take to either of those books the way I did to this one.  Perhaps it's because the main protagonist in this one, Nora Stephens, is a character I could actually relate to: a career woman who works hard to build a financially secure life for herself in order to ensure her family is always well-taken care of, but at the expense of her own hopes, dreams, and desires.  In addition to constantly "fixing" everyone else's problems while neglecting her own, Nora also sacrifices her dream job as an editor in favor of one as a literary agent that pays well, but is cutthroat and requires her to work constantly.  She also doesn't allow herself to have a love life because that would require too much emotional investment — something she doesn't have time for anyway but also because letting her guard down and allowing her vulnerabilities to show are absolutely not options for her (as she mentions herself at one point, she hasn't cried in over a decade because it's not something she can afford to do).  I actually saw a lot of myself in Nora, which is probably why I was able to resonate with her character so deeply.  Of course, it also made me root for her and Charlie even more, despite the fact that I already knew they would definitely have a happy ending no matter what (this IS a rom-com after all).

One of the things that has become a "trademark" of sorts with Henry's books is the witty banter between the main couple in the story and in this one, there was plenty of it, which I loved.  The banter between Nora and Charlie was funny, smart, and oh so satisfying to read — I can't remember the last time I had so much fun following two characters' back-and-forth dialogue. 

Another dynamic that made this book more endearing to me than Henry's previous rom-coms was the relationship between Nora and her sister Libby.  I love the way Henry wrote their relationship — each scene where the two of them were together, there was a genuineness and ease to their relationship that jumped off the page for me (not to mention that it made me wish I had a sister).  

In addition, I also enjoyed the "bookish" thread that ran through the entire story.  Aside from having both main characters work in the world of book publishing, there were also many book references, quotes, and puns that book nerds like me are sure to appreciate. 

This was definitely my favorite of Emily Henry's rom-coms and while it didn't change my sentiment toward rom-coms and romances in general (I'm still not much of a fan), it was absolutely a welcome departure from my usual reads.  I also just found out that Henry has a new book scheduled to release in April of next year — that one doesn't have a bookish vibe like this one, but I still look forward to reading it.

Review: Indelible City (by Louisa Lim)

My Rating:  4 stars

I had read Louisa Lim's previous book about the Tiananmen Square Massacre a few years back and one of the things I remember most was how succinctly Lim was able to convey the "collective amnesia" approach that China used to essentially "erase" the incident from its history. Even though that book was written in 2014, I never actually knew of the book's existence until June 2019, when I accidentally stumbled across it and decided, given the familiarity of the subject matter, I just had to read it.  As I mentioned in my review of that book, reading it couldn't have been more timely, since it happened to be right in the middle of the protests in Hong Kong over the extradition law. Coincidentally, now 3 years later, Lim has come out with yet another timely book, this time about those exact events that occurred in Hong Kong in 2019, but also covering the historical details that led up to it. This new book, titled Indelible City, obviously hit much closer to home for me, since I'm from Hong Kong and continue to be intimately connected to the city where I was born, even though it has now became a place that I no longer recognize.

To say that this book is about the protests though is a bit inaccurate, as it's actually about much more than that.  The first half of the book covers the history of Hong Kong, from when it became a British colony in the late 1800s up through the handover back to China in 1997 as well as the immediate years after through the early 2000s.  Interwoven throughout this narrative are background details related to Lim's own experiences as a mixed race Eurasian child who wasn't born in Hong Kong, but grew up there and also lived most of her life there.  Also woven into the narrative is the story of the King of Kowloon, which most Hong Kongers are likely familiar with, but not to the level of detail portrayed in here.  This first half of the book I actually loved because of the way Lim was able to clearly convey the unique history, culture, and identity of Hong Kong — which, to me, is important due to the lack of books out there (written in English) that authentically tell the story of Hong Kong (case in point: I've been searching for these types of books most of my reading life and continue to do so).  Up to this point, the majority of the narratives out there about Hong Kong are either told from the Western perspective or from the Mainland Chinese perspective — both of which are tremendously flawed and rife with biases that favor the side telling the story.  This book is unique in that it is one of the few books out there where the narrative is actually from the Hong Konger's perspective (and Lim definitely did a great job in the book explaining why this is of such huge significance).  I can't emphasize enough how satisfying it is to read about something I'm so intimately familiar with (in this case, the story of Hong Kong) and to see it actually done right — the details from the geography of the city, to the people, the culture, the language, the values that we hold dear, etc — things that someone from the outside who isn't connected to the city would have a difficult time truly understanding. 

Having said all that, the second half of the book was more of a tedious read for me, especially the section that covered the politics-heavy period from the Umbrella Movement in 2014 up through enactment of the national security law in November 2020.  Of course I understand the necessity of including these events due to the outsized role they play in Hong Kong's identity and history, and I definitely appreciate the amount of detail that Lim uses to relay the story — but for someone like me, who 1) hates reading about politics, and 2) was already more than familiar with all the details of those events as they occurred due to my connections to the city (it's not an understatement to say that I lost countless hours of sleep endlessly monitoring the protests and everything that was happening on the ground in Hong Kong at that time) — so seeing all those details rehashed all over again made my head hurt, to be honest.   Again though, this is strictly just me — others who may not be familiar with Hong Kong or the events that occurred the past couple years will likely find these details useful.

I could actually go on and on about this book, as there is so much in here worth bringing up, especially in the context of how much of what Lim writes about actually echoes my own experience of Hong Kong.  But I will refrain, as I prefer that people read this book for themselves first — if anything, for the foundational knowledge that it provides about a city that is often misunderstood.  This book is rare in that it actually gives voice to people whose opinions, throughout history, aren't usually heard or counted: those living in Hong Kong who have no choice but to accept (whether willingly or unwillingly) their fate of forever being rendered invisible.  To me, this aspect alone makes this book worth reading.

Review: Signal Fires (by Dani Shapiro)

My Review:  5 stars

It's not often that I find myself at a complete loss for words after finishing a book, to the point that I have to sit with it for a few days in order to form any semblance of coherent thoughts to actually put down on the page. That's how awed I was by Dani Shapiro's latest book, Signal Fires (her return to fiction after 15 years).  Though I had not read any of Shapiro's fiction or non-fiction works prior to this (something that I intend to rectify of course), I decided to pick this one up because of strong recommendations by a few book friends who said I would probably love this because the writing style is reminiscent of one of my favorite authors, Fredrik Backman.  And they were right, of course, as I did end up loving this one!

This book is one where it's best to go in knowing little to nothing about the plot in order to get the full emotional experience of it (though with that said, I do think that the publisher did a darn good job with the summary, which came across to me as carefully crafted with particular word choice in mind so as not to give away certain important plot points).  This is a character-driven story through and through (which I love!), but uniquely told in a nonlinear format that jumps back and forth between multiple perspectives as well as timeframes.  Usually, books of this nature (told from multiple characters' perspectives plus jumping back and forth in time) don't work too well for me, as it's distracting and often interrupts my reading flow — but for some reason (and surprisingly), it didn't bother me in the slightest with this book.  In fact, I barely noticed the unusual structure as I was reading, only figuring it out when I finished the book and was getting ready to write this review — undoubtedly a testament to Shapiro's mesmerizing and exquisite storytelling.  Indeed, I could not put this book down once I started it, nearly foregoing sleep just to finish it.

As mentioned earlier, I love character-driven stories, which was definitely an advantage going into this one, but even without that predisposition, I probably would've fallen in love with all the characters in here anyway based on the way they were written.  My favorite character was definitely Waldo, but Ben and Theo also stole a piece of my heart with their story arcs.  Even Shenkman and Sarah, two hugely flawed characters who tried so hard to do the right thing in the hopes of turning their lives around, got to me emotionally with their struggles, to the point that I was rooting for them as well.

Emotionally, there was actually a lot to unpack with this story and if I'm being honest, I would say I'm not quite ready to move on from this one yet (though I know I need to given the pile of books I have yet to get to).  I admire and appreciate the way that Shapiro was able to take life's most ordinary moments (moments we often take for granted) and build them into a story so rich with emotional nuance and poignancy. This was a quiet but powerful story, with an undercurrent of sadness throughout that broke my heart, yet at the same time, there was also an overarching message of hope and love that balanced things out so beautifully.  

Needless to say, I recommend this book wholeheartedly, though be prepared for the emotional journey that it will take you on.  For me personally, I intend to delve further into Shapiro's backlist books when I get a chance — can't wait!

Review: Now is Not the Time to Panic (by Kevin Wilson)

My Rating: 4 stars

"The edge is a shantytown filled with gold seekers.  We are fugitives, and the law is skinny with hunger for us."

The plot of Kevin Wilson's latest novel, Now Is Not the Time to Panic, revolves around this phrase in a huge way.  Of course, how and why this phrase is important is not going to make sense to anyone who hasn't read the novel and I actually don't plan on revealing too much of the plot in this review, as the unique nature of this book is that you need to read it for yourself in order to see where the story takes you.  All you need to know is that majority of the story takes place in Coalfield, Tennessee in 1996 and the two main characters are sixteen-year-old misfits Frances "Frankie" Budge and Ben "Zeke" Brown.  Frankie and Zeke, two lonely teens from broken families, meet for the first time during the summer of 1996 and, largely left to their own devices, work on a "project" together that ends up changing their lives.

With two teenage protagonists at its core, this is no doubt a coming-of-age story, but it's one unlike anything I've ever read.  I will admit that, at first, I worried about whether the story would have too much of a YA feel to it, and while there is definitely some "teenage angst" with the characters, the way it is written feels very clearly "adult" to me.  Kevin Wilson has a unique way with words and with that, is able to tell a compelling, original, and emotionally nuanced story quite effortlessly.  Indeed, there were so many different emotions that went though my mind as I read this one — it was heartwarming, yet also heartbreaking; funny at times, but also sad and serious when it needed to be; weird to the point that, at times, I honestly wasn't too sure what I was reading, but yet some parts were so familiar and relatable, I found myself nodding in recognition;  there were moments of sweetness (though not the overly saccharine kind), but also moments that were anger-inducing where I couldn't help but shake my head at how things got that way.  

One of the things I loved most about this story was how realistically-rendered the characters were.  Wilson didn't shy away from writing about the "messiness" of his characters' lives — which, in doing so, reflected the realities of ordinary life in a universally resonant way that made it easy to connect with the characters despite a reader such as myself having completely different backgrounds and experiences than them. 

I definitely recommend this book, but want to also put in a word for the Author's Note, which I feel is just as much of a "must-read" as the book itself.  It was of course interesting to read about the inspiration for this story, but more importantly, the insights it provided enhanced my understanding of the story, which I always appreciate.  After finishing this book, I immediately put Wilson's other works on my TBR — hopefully I'll be able to get to those soon!

Received ARC from Ecco via NetGalley. 

Review: Our Missing Hearts (by Celeste Ng)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

In her Author's note at the end of this book, Celeste Ng writes, "Bird and Margaret's world isn't exactly our world, but it isn't not ours, either."  This quote encapsulates my first reaction as soon as I turned the very last page of the story:  this book scared the hell out of me.  No, this was by no means a horror novel in the sense that there were no evil monsters lurking in the shadows or gory murders taking place every couple pages or anything like that. What made this story so scary was how recognizable the dystopian world that Ng created was, especially when looking at the past history of our country, the current realities of what our society has become, and where we are headed in the future.  Even scarier still  for me was reading this book as a  Chinese woman with a background that shares some similarities with Margaret's, and also having myself experienced first-hand many of the prejudices and micro-aggressions that she did at various stages of her life, it heightens the notion that this dystopian society will indeed (unfortunately) become our grim reality in the years to come.  

As I was gathering my thoughts to write this review, I decided to deliberately keep it short and vague, mostly because I feel the power of this story is in the experience of reading it. This book was definitely a departure from Ng's previous works and to be honest, I did hesitate to pick it up at first knowing that it would be science fiction (a genre that isn't usually my cup of tea).  But as soon as I read the first page, I was drawn in by Ng's beautiful and absorbing writing as well as her masterful storytelling.  Now after having read this book, I feel that it would be more appropriate to put this in the "genre mashup" category rather than solely science fiction, as there were aspects of historical, literary, and contemporary fiction in here —  I think this is important to point out in case there are other readers like me who might be put off reading genres that they don't usually prefer.  I actually ended up finishing this book in essentially one sitting, as I got so absorbed in the story that was unfolding, I had to keep going in order to see how things would turn out.

Lastly, a word about the rating, which I agonized over for quite some time.  While there was so much about this book that deserved 5 stars, I ended up going the 4.5 stars route because I felt that the story overall didn't quite have the level of emotional resonance as Ng's previous books, especially as it relates to the characters  — which I guess wasn't too surprising given that some of the focus had to be shifted to the "world-building" aspects of the dystopian society that was both a reflection and not a reflection of our current society.  As I mentioned earlier in my review, I definitely felt fear and anger at everything that was happening throughout the story, but I didn't really feel the personal, emotional connection to the characters that I was expecting.  Having said that, I still found this to be brilliantly written and a worthy (I would even say necessary read) — though of course, given the subject matter, it won't be an easy read by any means.  

Review: The Hero of This Book (by Elizabeth McCracken)

My Rating: 3 stars

I really really wanted to love this book like so many of my fellow readers did, but unfortunately, this one didn't quite work out for me.  Don't get me wrong — Elizabeth McCracken is a great writer and her ability to use humor in the cleverest of ways is one of the things that I appreciate most about her works (this book was no exception).  I also found the premise of the story very touching, with McCracken's indirect tribute to her mother through the narrator's recounting of her her memories (though of course, as McCracken makes clear, this is not a memoir, and the narrator, though also a writer who shares other similar details with herself, is technically not her).  Having said that, the story overall was a bit hard to follow, as there wasn't much of a plot — it was mostly the narrator's thoughts and memories that would jump back and forth from past to present.  It actually got to the point where I would be halfway through the book and have no idea what I just read.  There were also moments where I had to stop reading in order to attend to a life issue, but then afterwards, I didn't really feel like picking the book back up again (though of course, I eventually did pick it up and finish, since I have a problem with DNFing books once I start them).

While overall I was glad to have read this — and there were certainly aspects I related to and appreciated, such as the narrator's complicated relationship with her mother and also trying to reconcile that with her sensibilities as a writer (hence the struggle of whether to actually write about her mother or not) — the back and forth was a bit too much for me.  At times, the story felt like it was all over the place and that ended up detracting from the emotional aspect a bit. 

Even though this one fell a little short for me, I'm still interested in reading McCracken's other works at some point and having a different reading experience.

Received ARC from Ecco Press via NetGalley.

Review: Lucy by the Sea (by Elizabeth Strout)

My Rating:  5 stars

This was a pandemic novel I didn't know I needed!  With Elizabeth Strout being one of my favorite authors, I will pretty much read anything she writes — so of course I was ecstatic to have been approved for an early copy of her latest novel, Lucy by the Sea,which brings back one of my all time favorite Strout characters, Lucy Barton.  This time around, it is the very early stages of the COVID pandemic and Lucy is whisked away to Maine by her ex-husband William, who, as a scientist, knows a thing or two about the situation going on with the virus.  Lucy agrees to go with him to the isolated house by the sea for what they both think will be "only a few weeks" (one of my favorite scenes was early on in the book when Lucy is in her apartment packing her things and trying to decide what to bring for what she anticipates will be a short stay in Maine — the laptop scene was classic "Lucy and William bantering over the most mundane things" and I loved the familiarity of it!).  As the weeks turn into months, the situation escalates, with Lucy and William eventually going into pandemic lockdown as things around the world become more and more dire. 

Just like with the previous Lucy books, we as readers essentially live inside Lucy's head the entire story as she narrates her day-to-day experiences (whether good or bad), observations, and feelings toward everything that happens.  As Strout does brilliantly with each of her novels, she provides keen insights into the human condition through her characters' astute observations and empathetic, heartfelt emotions that reflect the realities of our everyday lives.  One difference this time though, is that many of Lucy's experiences and sentiments hit extremely close to home, given the timeframe spanning recent events such as the pandemic lockdown, the George Floyd murder and subsequent protests, the January 6th insurrection, etc. — resulting in shared feelings of anxiety, fear, unease, and a sense of feeling unmoored in a country becoming more and more divided. 

I read Oh William! last year and while I did enjoy that one, I felt that focus was more on William's story rather than Lucy herself, and in that sense, it felt a little less relatable than the first book My Name is Lucy Barton did.  This new book, Lucy by the Sea, brought the focus back to Lucy, which I definitely appreciated, as it gave me the same poignant, relatable vibe that the original one did, which made me love this one just as much.

Fans of the Lucy Barton series will no doubt love this newest sequel, though it's definitely recommended to read the previous books before this one (except Anything is Possible, which is part of the series but doesn't focus as much on Lucy herself — I still need to read this one myself).  Also, Elizabeth Strout fans who have read her other books will love the Easter eggs scattered throughout the story, especially the appearances by other characters who featured prominently in some of her other works.  This added a "fun" element to the story that helped to balance out some of the "heaviness" of the subject matter for me. While I'm not sure if there will be another Lucy book after this one, I will absolutely read whatever else Strout comes out with in the future!

Received ARC from Random House via NetGalley.

Review: All That’s Left Unsaid (by Tracey Lien)

My Rating:  5 stars

When I first read the premise for Tracey Lien's debut All That's Left Unsaid, I knew this was a book I wanted to read.  Comparisons to some of my favorite authors (Liz Moore, Celeste Ng, Brit Bennett) aside, I was intrigued by the case at the center of the story:  17-year-old Denny Tran attends a dinner at a local restaurant in Cabramatta, Australia (a suburb in Sydney) with his friends, but before the night is over, he is brutally murdered in plain sight of over a dozen witnesses, yet all of them claim not to have seen a thing.  The Tran family is devastated, but faced with an indifferent police force in a refugee enclave where the proliferation of drugs (specifically heroin) as well as violent crime have become commonplace, Denny's parents seem to have no other recourse but to accept the "bad luck" of their beloved son's murder.  But Denny's sister Ky refuses to let things simply get swept under the rug.  Desperate to assuage her feelings of guilt for leaving the family in order to pursue her own life in Melbourne (an act akin to "abandoning" the family and is severely frowned upon in traditional Asian households), Ky returns to Cabramatta and, after her brother's funeral, decides to seek out and interrogate each of the witnesses herself in order to find out the circumstances behind Denny's murder.  With each person she speaks to, Ky gets closer to understanding what happened to her brother, but at the same time, she discovers the myriad complexities and difficulties of navigating the path to justice and closure for her family in a community where its citizens are mostly resigned to their fates.

There was honestly so much to unpack with this story that it is impossible to cover every angle in a brief review such as this one (personally, I highlighted so many things in this book that were significant to me, it would take me pages and pages to parse all of it).  I will attempt to relay a few thoughts that stood out, but I encourage people to actually read this book in order to get the full experience.  

I do want to start off by saying that this book is technically incorrectly classified under mystery / thriller.  While it's true that the plot overall revolves around unraveling the "mysterious" circumstances behind Denny Tran's murder, it quickly becomes obvious (a chapter or so into the story, in fact) that his death is actually the trigger point for a deeply complicated and intricate exploration of community, society, class struggle, immigration, culture and assimilation, systemic racism, family bonds, parent-child relationships, generational trauma, mental illness, abuse, etc (and that's just scratching the surface).  The "mystery" itself was easy to figure out, which essentially rendered the ending anti-climactic, but the gut wrenching process of getting to that point was really the crux of what made this story work so well.  With its "social commentary" angle, I feel like this would've fit more appropriately into literary fiction, though from a time and place perspective — Cabramatta (which was an actual place in Australia) in the 1990s, during which time there truly was a heroin epidemic — there was also a historical element to the story as well that I didn't expect, but made the story even more compelling.

Before I go into talking about the characters, I wanted to comment on the title and structure. This book actually has one of the cleverest titles I've ever seen: it complements the book perfectly because when we peel back the layers, the story is essentially about "the many things that are left unsaid" by every character in the book — not just the witnesses from that night, but also the parents, Denny, and even Ky herself.  So in this sense, there is a deeper meaning to the title that can only be understood after reading and reflecting on the entire story.  Structure-wise, I love how the narrative alternated between various perspectives — sure, we got Ky's perspective primarily, but there were also chapters narrated from the perspectives of the witnesses as well as Ky's parents.  Through these chapters, we were able to get the backstories to the various characters, which helped us understand what ultimately drove each character's decision that fateful night.  Structuring the narrative this way not only made the story more powerful and poignant, it also helped make the characters realistic and relatable, which I felt was very important to this story overall.

Speaking of the characters, I truly appreciate the brilliant job that the author Tracey Lien did in the area of character development, especially with Ky and Minnie.  Reading this book was actually quite an emotional roller coaster for me because of the resonance I felt with the characters and so much of what they went through.  With Ky especially, I saw so much of myself in her — from her struggles with  identity and acceptance, to her analysis of her own shortcomings and insecurities, her feelings of anxiety related to the environment in which she grew up, and most significantly, her relationship with her mother.   I've always been drawn to stories about parent/child relationships, but those between Asian mothers and their daughters are especially resonant with me because of my cultural background and the hope that reading about these relationships will help me navigate the complex dynamic that exists there.

One of the other things I loved about this book was how, through the character of Ky (and Minnie to some extent), Lien so accurately expressed the realities of life for many Asian women like myself — daughters of immigrants (and/or refugees) who may or may not have been born in the Western countries where we grew up and currently live — and how many of the conflicts that we constantly deal with, be it the cultural expectations or the societal pressures that come with being Asian and female, greatly inform how we end up interacting with our parents (and with others as well).  I wanted to share the below passage from the book, which blew me away when I read it because it hit the nail on the head and made me feel "seen" in a way that so few books I've read in the past have been able to do.

"To anyone else, [his] reason would have been baffling. But Ky understood. She hated how well she now understood. After all, hadn't she kept every hurt she'd ever experienced from her own parents? Hadn't she hidden the bullying, the name-calling, the cruel acts of strangers, the times she'd been told to go back to where she came from, the ching-chongs, the pulled-back eyelids, the blondies with the Cabbage Patch Kids, the way she was forced to play the monster, the way she was asked why she couldn't just take a joke, the times she was told that Asian women were ugly, kinky, docile, crazy, nerdy, unworthy, the way she was dismissed by men, the way she was dismissed by white men, their comments about what Asian women were and weren't, what Asian women could or couldn't be, the way she smiled with her tongue pressed against her teeth even as an ache beat in tandem with her heart—hadn't she hidden all of that? And hadn't she lived her own ambitious, exciting, anxious, uncompromising life while knowing that she could never, ever, ever, ever tell her parents about what she had been through? Because knowing would break their hearts. Because she had to help them believe that their sacrifices had paid off. Because she had to help them believe that moving to a country where they didn't speak the language and weren't seen as individuals had been worth it. Because she had to convince them that they'd done right by their children, that no one had failed, that no one had been let down, that they were one of the lucky ones who'd followed the path and found success. It made perfect sense. You lied to protect. You lied because of love."

This is a book I definitely recommend and will likely want to re-read myself at some point. However, with that said, a word of warning that this is not going to be an easy read  — it is sad and heart wrenching, it presents truths about our society that may be difficult to face, and it may take you places that you would rather not be, especially with some of the things going on in the world at the moment.  But is is a worthwhile read — I would even say that it's a necessary read — for those who are up to it, of course.  This was a fantastic debut and I definitely look forward to what Tracey Lien has in store for us next.

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.