Review: Ordinary Time: Lessons Learned While Staying Put (by Annie B. Jones)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

This was a book club read for me and while I enjoyed it quite a bit, I found that I didn’t relate to it as much as I thought I would.  Annie B. Jones is a bookstore owner in the small town of Thomasville, Georgia and in this memoir-in-essays, she recounts the trials and tribulations of a quiet, “ordinary” existence – or “staying put” as per the book’s subtitle.  As a “stayer” myself, the overall theme that Jones writes about -- continuing to stay in the town where we grew up and living an ordinary life instead of venturing off on our own in pursuit of some grand dream – definitely resonated with me, though what that actually looks like in practice can be very different for each person. 

In her book, Jones reflects upon various aspects of her small-town life, which revolves largely around her family (her husband Jordan and their dog Sam Malone), her bookstore (an indie called The Bookshelf), a podcast (From the Front Porch), writing, and of course, books (lots of them).  While some people might see this as a “boring” existence, Jones offers a different view by shining a light on the positive aspects of living a quiet life staying put, though without glossing over the difficult aspects of said life.  She talks about instances of finding excitement in the mundane (i.e. living in a house with a pool) and not being afraid to show your vulnerabilities when the situation warrants it (i.e. trying her hand at line dancing despite not really knowing how to), but what I appreciated most was the sincerity of Jones’s conviction in “staying put” as a choice rather than something forced upon her due to circumstance.  Indeed, the uplifting tone made this an especially great listen on audio, which was the version I chose, and it truly felt like listening to a friend recap her day.

With all that said, of course there were aspects of Jones’s story that I related to more than others.  The sections where she talks about books and how they’ve influenced her life, for example, felt relevant to my own relationship to books, which made those chapters a joy to read. I also found relevance in the way she described her quiet, introverted personality, as I would also rather spend any free time I have reading at home rather than hanging out with other people. The sections about religion and faith, however, were less interesting to me, and I honestly ended up skimming those parts so I could get through those chapters faster.

Overall, I found this to be a pleasant read, though perhaps not particularly insightful or memorable, probably because so many aspects of my life are different from hers and those differences outweighed any similarities.  Either way, I’m still glad to have read this one and look forward to discussing it in book club.

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

My Rating: 4 stars 

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

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

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

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

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

 

Review: Jane Austen's Bookshelf (by Rebecca Romney)

My Rating: 5 stars 

Happy New Year!

My first read of the year is actually a book I started during the last week of 2025.  Rebecca Romney’s Jane Austen’s Bookshelf was part of my December “Jane Austen read-a-thon” project to commemorate Austen’s (one of my favorite authors) 250^th birthday and my original intention was to finish reading it by the end of the year.  But that didn’t end up happening and I’m not sad about it at all because instead of rushing through the book, I was able to really savor it.

Romney’s central goal with this book is to understand and explore the women writers who came before Austen and, in many cases, not only had an outsized influence on Austen’s work, but were also counted among the author’s favorites (as per her own letters) -- yet over the years, these writers had largely been either “erased” or “excluded” from the Western canon.  Romney is very honest about the fact that, throughout her life, she regularly purchased and read books written by “authoritative” surveyors of literature who claimed that Austen was the “first great woman writer in English” – aka there were no female writers in English who came before her and even if there were, none of them lived up to her genius so they weren’t worth reading. As a rare book seller (and collector) and huge Austen fan, Romney decided to “right her wrong” so to speak by utilizing her “tools of the trade” to investigate why these women writers – almost all of whom are mentioned in either Austen’s novels or her personal letters -- had disappeared from most literary discourse (outside of dedicated academic scholarship). This quote from the book’s introduction perfectly sums up Romney’s project: “As repayment for what she had given me, I hoped I could offer Austen this in return: a collection that reunites the novels she read, and a book honoring her own favorite authors…I wanted to know who these women were, what they wrote, and why they were no longer part of the canon.  I would read their books and I would collect copies that appealed to me for their historical interest.  I would fill Jane Austen’s Bookshelf.”

This is a fascinating book that not only serves as a “primer” of sorts on 18^th century female novelists, but also a delightful glimpse into the world of rare book collecting (something which I had no knowledge of previously).  Romney begins the book with a chapter on Jane Austen (of course), then traces her “literary ancestry” with chapters on Frances Burney, Ann Radcliffe, Charlotte Lennox, Hannah More, Charlotte Smith, Elizabeth Inchbald, Hester Lynch Thrale Piozzi, and Maria Edgeworth.  Romney doesn’t just provide biographical details about each writer though – she also reads the works by each of these authors and teases out the connection to Austen (some are more obvious due to direct references that Austen herself made, while others are inferred though highly plausible references). Reading this book from the perspective of a fellow Austen fan and someone who had also studied British literature in some capacity, it’s obvious to me that Romney had done her research (and done it well!), as she situates each author in the historical period of their time while also incorporating important historical and literary contexts to support her arguments.  For me though, what makes this book stand apart from other Austen-themed literary-analysis type books is the way she incorporates her own personal experience – observations from her profession in the rare book collecting space as well as detailed analysis from her own extensive reading of both Austen’s works and each author’s – to convincingly argue why these forgotten writers should be more widely read.  More importantly, she does so in way that’s sincere, witty, relatable, and easily accessible – enough scholarly detail to put it at the same level as academic literary criticism, yet written in a down-to-earth manner where it doesn’t feel like I’m reading literary criticism at all.

Reading this book not only makes me see Austen’s works in a new light, it has also gotten me interested in reading these authors’ works as well.  The way Romney describes these works and her experiences reading them, as well as her observations of the connections to Austen’s works, honestly fascinated me to the point that I wanted to experience these “source texts” for myself (one of the things I did after I finished reading was to immediately put these authors’ novels on my TBR).  This book is one of the best modern-day analyses of Austen’s works that I’ve read so far and definitely a worthy entry into the canon (if there is one) of Austen scholarship.  With that said, the biggest takeaway I got from this book is the importance of reading something because we “want to” rather than because we “should” (i.e.: it’s part of the “classics” canon).  I absolutely love this section from Romney’s concluding chapter: “Building this collection led me to question the canon.  I did not throw it out, but I’ve learned the confidence to distinguish between the taste of ‘authorities’ and my own.  Look into the past and read whatever resonates with you, not what we’re told are the ‘best’ authors.  You don’t have to read any of the books I read in my investigation.  [Italo] Calvino argues that, outside of school, ‘we don’t read classics out of duty or respect, only read out of love’.”   Wonderfully stated words of wisdom that I know will stay with me for a long time to come.

P.S.:  Romney’s book inspired me to take a quick look back at the course I took a few months ago on 18^th Century British Literature for my English Literature degree – sure enough, there was only one female writer covered in that course (yes, you guessed it – Jane Austen).  This also led me down the rabbit hole of checking out syllabi for courses on 18^th century British Literature from various schools and indeed, there are few (if any) female writers covered in those (Austen is actually not in many of those syllabi either, as some consider her a 19^th century writer due to most of her novels being published after 1800).  From what I could see based on my own studies as well as glancing through these syllabi is that the “canon” when it comes to 18^th century British Literature consists mostly of Jonathan Swift, Samuel Johnson, Henry Fielding, Alexander Pope, Daniel Defoe, Tobias Smollett, Laurence Sterne, Samuel Richardson, and a rotation of other male poets/playwrights/writers – some more obscure and less prolific than the women writers discussed in Romney’s book.  All this tells me that Romney was definitely on to something with her project!

 

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

My Rating:  4 stars

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

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

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

Katabasis (by R.F. Kuang)

My Rating: 3 stars

My first thought after finishing this book is that I am most definitely NOT the right audience for it, as majority of the story went way over my head. To say that I struggled with this book is an understatement -- if I had to assign a number, I would probably say that I only understood maybe 60% of the story (and that’s being generous).  My problem with this book wasn’t in the writing, as it’s a known fact that R.F. Kuang can absolutely write (and beautifully at that) – rather, I felt that Kuang tried to cram too much into this book and made it way denser than it really needed to be.  What I mean by this is that Kuang incorporates an insane amount of philosophical, mathematical, and scientific concepts (some explained, some not) and name drops numerous philosophers and scholars along with the theories they specialized in (to the point that she had to “explain” some of the scholarship in an Author’s Note at the end of the book) – which had the effect of convoluting and overwhelming the story in a way that I felt was unnecessary.  In fact, the academic overload felt so intense at times that I found myself having to dig deep in order to unbury the story that Kuang was trying to tell (and even then, I still felt like I didn’t “get” majority of what she was trying to say, lol) – the result being that this was a tremendously tedious and exhausting read that I’m not really sure was worth the effort.  At some point probably a third of the way through, I started skimming not paragraphs, but pages, as I felt like I was reading the same sentences 3-4 times but still not understanding a single word, and I was starting to get anxious about wasting my time.

As I was reading, one thing that became quite obvious to me is that this book was written by someone with a deep, intimate knowledge of academia – which makes sense given that Kuang, with her Masters and Doctorate degrees from Cambridge, Oxford, and Yale, is practically a scholar in her own right.  Now don’t get me wrong – I have nothing against pursuing higher education (I actually have a Master’s degree myself so I’m kind of partial to that world too), but I think that sometimes a background like that can have an unintended impact on the work you produce that is meant for mass consumption.  Specifically, the way that the book was written, it seemed to take for granted the fact that most “ordinary” readers would not be well-versed in philosophical theories, mathematical formulas, scientific hypotheses, etc. that someone from the academic world would probably be more familiar with (though with that said, even someone like me with a higher level academic degree was still completely lost in this instance).  In hindsight, if I had known how philosophically and theoretically dense this book would be (especially towards the subjects of math and science), I probably would not have chosen to pick this one up (at least not during this particular time when I’m already overwhelmed and exhausted from work and family obligations).

Given everything I said above, those reading this review might be wondering why I didn’t rate this book lower (as I would have in similar circumstances).  Part of the reason is because of the writing, as I mentioned earlier – Kuang is a skillful writer and her strength in worldbuilding (from her roots as a fantasy writer no doubt) definitely shines here.  The detail with which she describes Alice and Peter’s journey through Hell is truly astounding -- I can’t help but admire her ability to take such an obscure premise and build out such an intricate story from it.  Also, I truly did enjoy the last 50 or so pages, including the way the ending played out (which I felt like Kuang nailed this time, especially when compared to her previous novel Yellowface).

Overall, I would say that this was an “okay” read – not entirely a waste of time but also not the best use of my time either.  I’m just glad I finally got through it and can now move on to other books that will hopefully work out better for me.

Received ARC from Harper Voyager via NetGalley.

Review: Heart the Lover (by Lily King)

My Rating: 5 stars

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

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

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

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

My Rating: 3.5 stars

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

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

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

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

Review: The Correspondent (by Virginia Evans)

My Rating: 5 stars

I can’t remember the last time I read an epistolary novel that had such a profound impact on me, to the point that I’m still thinking about the story and its characters long after I finished reading.  I’ve always found the epistolary format very tricky to get right, which is probably why not too many authors attempt it -- so in this light, I applaud Virginia Evans for not only putting in the effort (for her debut, no less!), but also doing such an amazing job with it.

At the heart of this novel is the titular “correspondent,” a septuagenarian named Sybil Van Antwerp who has a prickly personality and is stubbornly set in her ways.  While she is not “mean” per se, she can be outspoken and direct to a fault in the letters that she writes to friends, family, and strangers alike, unafraid to mince words and not shy about “letting people have it” if she thinks they deserve it.  That said, Sybil’s letters aren’t always criticizing or negative – sometimes they are full of praise and sometimes they are indifferent, but most often the letters are a way for Sybil to gather her thoughts and make sense of the world around her. I will admit that, at first, I didn’t think I would like Sybil all that much, as I was kind of put off by her stubborn cynicism, but over the course of the story, she really started to grow on me, especially as I learned more about her and started to better understand the nuances of her life.  With character-driven novels such as this one, an element that I always look for is whether the characters – specifically the main protagonist(s) – grow and change in some way or they remain essentially the same throughout the story. In this regard, I definitely appreciate the way Evans developed Sybil’s character arc – she is flawed, yes, and she absolutely makes mistakes, some small, a few big (so big, in fact, that they altered the course of her life forever), yet she learns from these mistakes and tries to do better, even if, in some cases, it is too late.  Some of the letters are a way for Sybil to work through her guilt, grief, and regret over various incidents that occurred in her life, which we as readers may not realize until we see how things play out at the end of the book.  Either way, Sybil ends up becoming an unforgettable character for me, someone whom I enjoyed getting to know, and ultimately, couldn’t help rooting for, even when I disagreed with some of her actions and behavior.

One of the criticisms of the epistolary format is the oftentimes lack of emotional depth – though this is true in many instances, it certainly wasn’t the case here, at least not for me.  This book made me laugh, cry, and feel all the emotions in between.  Not only that, I was also able to connect with both the story and the characters, on so many levels. I loved the “bookish” element to the letters, as Sybil is very well-read and one of the things she enjoys doing most is writing to the authors of books she’s read and giving them her unfettered opinion, be it good, bad, or indifferent.  She writes to Ann Patchett (one of my favorite authors) about her novel State of Wonder, to Kazuo Ishiguro about Never Let Me Go (one of my all-time favorite novels), to Larry McMurty about Lonesome Dove (one of the most poignant letters in the book), to Diana Gabaldon about her Outlander series (a letter which cracked me up because most of it was complaining about the amount of sex in the book), and most often, to Joan Didion, a “friend” with whom she shares an emotional connection (I don’t want to say more because I don’t want to give the story away).

Given how much there was to love about this book, I could go on, but I think it’s best to let readers experience this one for themselves.  With that said, the epistolary format isn’t for everyone, so the reaction to this book might be different depending on the reader (which, of course, is perfectly okay).  I loved this one and connected with it on a profound level (partly because I’m also an introvert who prefers written communication over verbal communication), but others might not feel the same way.  There are also quite a few trigger warnings with this one, so that might be something to look into for some readers.

All in all, a great read that I wholeheartedly recommend!

Review: What We Left Unsaid (by Winnie M. Li)

My Rating: 4 stars

As I sit down to write this review, it dawns on me that I have now read two road trip themed books back-to-back -- while this was definitely unintentional, I appreciate how different the experience reading each book was. Specifically, what I found most interesting was seeing how two authors from entirely different backgrounds take the same road trip theme in completely opposite directions, yet if we look closely, both books actually share something else in common: they are both timely and poignant responses to the chaotic nature of the world we live in currently, which is a connection I was not expecting, but I’m glad I got to experience.

Winnie M. Li mentions in her Acknowledgments note that the idea for her novel What We Left Unsaid was sparked by her realization that, as a Taiwanese-American who grew up in the United States, she “had never done the Great American Road Trip – and was maybe missing out on some seminal life experience,” so she gathered her partner Sam and her two year old son Timo and together, went on a three week road trip to do “research” for this book.  The result is a profound and eye-opening exploration of not just family, race, and culture, but also what it means to be an American, especially one of foreign descent.

Li’s fictional story revolves around the 3 Chu siblings: Bonnie, the ever-responsible eldest sister who married into wealth and lives in the Massachusetts suburbs with her husband Chris and 3 sons; Kevin, the precious middle son living a well-to-do life with this family in Chicago; and Alex, the free-spirited and rebellious baby sister who lives with her partner Nya in London.  All three of them are called back home to California, where their parents live, when their mother becomes gravely ill.  But before they are allowed to visit, their mother makes an odd request – she wants them to complete the road trip to the Grand Canyon that their family was in the middle of 30 years ago, but ended up aborting due to an incident that had occurred on their way there.  So the Chu siblings decide to do a road trip via Route 66, with a stop at the Grand Canyon before heading to California.  In chapters that alternate between past and present, and told from the perspectives of each sibling, the present-day road trip is juxtaposed with the one from their childhood, with the details of that long-ago incident revealed bit by bit over the course of the story.

This was a story that resonated deeply with me – not the road trip part of course, as I dislike driving in general and my motion sickness makes riding in a car for hours on end unfathomable.  Rather, what I connected with most were the three siblings’ experiences growing up in a Chinese immigrant household and the various cultural nuances that influence the family’s dynamics – specifically, the issues with communication amongst the various family members that cause so many misunderstandings in the story. To this point, I feel that the author, Winnie M. Li, captured our culture’s reticence and propensity towards silence perfectly.  Indeed, the title What We Left Unsaid is extremely fitting:  not only does it refer to the incident that happened on the aborted Grand Canyon trip, but more specifically, it is a particularly apt explanation of the simultaneously fraught yet loving dynamic that underlies each sibling’s individual relationship with their parents – relationship dynamics that I’m more than familiar with due to the outsized role they play in my own life everyday. In fact, at so many points throughout the story, I couldn’t help nodding my head in recognition at many of the familiar thoughts, feelings, and experiences that the characters go through as they reflect on both their place in the family as well as within society. 

Overall, I enjoyed reading this one, even though, admittedly, some parts were uncomfortable to read, precisely because the scenario hit too close to home -- looking back at it now, I appreciate the way reading about these dynamics made me reflect on my own family situation and relationships.  I would definitely recommend this book, though with the caveat that, undoubtedly, each reader’s reaction to it will be different. While I agree with some of the same things that other readers found annoying with the story (for example – Kevin and Alex’s constant bickering, which got on my nerves at times), I feel this was a worthwhile read overall, and also a timely one given our current environment.

 

Received ARC from Atria/Emily Bestler Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Road to Tender Hearts (by Annie Hartnett)

My Rating: 4 stars

When I first picked up Annie Hartnett’s newest novel The Road to Tender Hearts and read the premise, it sounded a little silly to me and I wasn’t sure if I would like it.  But then I remembered that I had read Harnett’s previous novel Unlikely Animals and had really enjoyed that one, so I should probably give this one a go (plus, with the world we’re living in, maybe “silly” is what we need right now).  In any case, I’m glad I decided to go with this weird, quirky, humorous, heartwarming read, as it provided a nice departure from the mostly “heavy” stuff that I had been reading as of late.

On the surface, the premise sounds pretty simple:  sixty-three-year-old PJ Halliday reads in the paper that the husband of his high school crush Michelle Cobb has died, so he decides to embark on a cross-country road trip to the retirement community where she lives to try and win her back.  But where the complication kicks in is that, before PJ gets a chance to leave for his trip, he is unexpectedly entrusted with the care of two children whom he never knew existed:  the recently orphaned grandchildren of an estranged half-brother with whom he had lost touch years ago. PJ decides to take the children with him on the trip and also asks (more like begs) his 20-something daughter Sophie to go with him, which she agrees to do because, well, there needs to be an “adult” on this trip after all (this will make more sense if you’ve read the book). Oh and then there is Pancakes, an escaped but not-exactly-stray orange tabby cat with the “special power” to predict death – when the cat suddenly shows up outside of PJ’s home, he decides to take his new little friend on the trip as well.  So the road trip ends up consisting of an eccentric, recovering alcoholic with a fragile heart (he’s had 3 heart attacks already), a pair of ten-year-old recently orphaned siblings who are not actually twins, an adult daughter who has been adrift since the death of her sister, and a (talking?) cat that is a “harbinger of death”.  On such a “unique” road trip unlike any other, what could possibly go wrong?  Well, you will need to read the book to find out!

As I mentioned earlier, this was a weird and silly story, but it was also delightful and fun.  I personally really liked it, but looking at the reviews, the reaction to this one seems to be a mixed bag.  Admittedly, like many others, I did find this story grounded more in reality than Hartnett’s previous book (except for the “talking” cat of course) and if we look at the story from this perspective, there were quite a few things that probably shouldn’t have worked plot-wise – but in my opinion, that’s not actually the best way to read this story.  For me, this story wasn’t meant to be taken too seriously.  I mean, sure, there are some “hard” issues that are explored in the story, but these are dealt with in ways that don’t lean too much into the “seriousness” of the issues but also don’t make light of them either.  I feel that Hartnett did a great job injecting just the right amount of humor into the story so that in the end, it was a lighthearted enough read, but also emotionally nuanced and moving.  Hartnett sums up the tone of the book perfectly when she writes in her Author’s Note (Acknowledgments): “This was my challenge to myself: to put everything bad I could think of in there and make it my funniest book yet.  Humor is how I have always coped with anxiety and fear and terror and discomfort, so I wanted to make it all terrible but also very funny.  Things are so horrendously bad, let’s laugh about it!”

Indeed, this is a book with lots of humor but also lots of heart.  Highly recommended!

Review: The Phoenix Pencil Company (by Allison King)

My Rating: 4 stars

Allison King’s debut novel The Phoenix Pencil Company was an interesting read that turned out to be nothing like what I expected when I first picked it up.  This is one of those books that I would call a “genre mashup” where several different genres – historical fiction, contemporary fiction, light fantasy with touches of magical realism, and even a dash of romance – are woven together to form a compelling story that not only kept me engaged from the beginning, but also  continually surprised me with the various directions that the narrative took. 

One of the unique aspects about this story is that it is a dual timeline narrative (alternating between past and present), but told in an epistolary format from both first person and second person point of view.  The present timeline, written in the form of blog-like journal entries, is told from the perspective of Monica Tsai, a reclusive twenty-something computer engineering student whose two main joys in life are coding and spending time with the beloved grandparents who raised her.  When Monica returns home to Cambridge, Massachusetts during the summer of her freshman year in college, she discovers that her grandmother Wong Yun, has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s – a discovery that sets Monica on the path of not only reconnecting her grandmother with her long lost cousin Chen Meng, but also unearthing a long-buried family secret:  the magical power of Reforging words written with the pencils created by her family’s Phoenix Pencil Company. The historical timeline is told from the perspective of Monica’s grandmother Wong Yun, written in the form of a “letter” to her cousin Chen Meng, through the Reforged pencil which Yun uses to preserve her memories.  In this past timeline, we are transported back to late 1930s Shanghai, China, during World War II, as Yun recounts her childhood working with Meng at the family’s Phoenix Pencil Company.  With the historical timeline, one of the things I appreciated was the depth of coverage in terms of the historical events on the Asian front during WWII.  Indeed, when it comes to novels set during this period, the mainstream familiarity with WWII is traditionally from either the European or the American perspective – from the Chinese perspective however, WWII actually started when Japan invaded Manchuria in 1931, which officially launched the Sino-Japanese War and ultimately, Japan’s occupation of various parts of China in the late 1930s when the story’s historical timeline begins. The timeline also covers the period immediately after WWII, with the Chinese civil war in which the Nationalists and the Communists fought for control of China, resulting in the formation of a separate government in Taiwan. 

Of course, as a fan of historical fiction, I found the “past” timeline more interesting story-wise, but from a character perspective, the “present” (contemporary) timeline definitely won hands down.  I absolutely loved the relationship between Monica and her grandparents – their interactions were so genuine and moving that I was nearly brought to tears more than once, especially during those moments when the characters would find themselves at a crossroads, trying to reconcile the aspects of their culture (for example, the emotional restraint and reticence that is a common trait in Chinese culture) that was in conflict with the reality of their life experiences and situations. I also found it especially refreshing that the novel centered on the Chinese American experience without following the usual immigrant narrative.  Instead, it highlighted the significant role of grandparents – a perspective that is deeply important, yet often overlooked. 

With that said, there was some “science-y” stuff related to Monica’s profession – coding and tech terminology, specifically – that went completely over my head, but luckily, this didn’t detract from my overall enjoyment of the novel.

King’s strong debut is a genre-defying, heartfelt tale that explores family, culture, identity, and sacrifice, while also providing thoughtful insight on contemporary concerns related to the use of technology, data privacy, and consent.  While some aspects of the story may require a little bit of patience to get through, the emotional resonance of the characters’ relationships as well as the unique narrative format make this a worthwhile read that I wholeheartedly recommend!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.