Review: Songbirds (by Christy Lefteri)

My Rating: 4 stars

Even though it's been nearly two years since I read Christy Lefteri's award-winning second novel The Beekeeper of Aleppo, one of the things that has continued to stay with me whenever I think of that book is the affecting, haunting nature of the story.  While I might not remember every detail of the plot, I do remember the gut-wrenching emotions that the story evoked.  I was moved by Nuri's and Afra's heartrending story detailing their harrowing journey from war-torn Syria to Great Britain, trying their best to survive as refugees in a foreign and not necessarily welcoming country. Lefteri's newest work, Songbirds, is written in a similar vein — a poignant, heartbreaking story that centers on foreign domestic workers on the Greek island of Cyprus.  

Nisha Jayakody is a young Sri Lankan widow who, forced by the circumstances of dire poverty and desperation as well as a desire to provide a better life for her beloved daughter Kumari, signs up with an agency that places her as a maid and nanny for Petra, a pregnant businesswoman living on Cyprus whose husband had also just died.  In addition to taking care of Petra's household, Nisha also helps raise Petra's daughter Aliki.  Yiannis is a poacher who secretly traps songbirds, a protected species, and sells them on the black market.  After meeting and falling in love with Nisha, Yiannis longs to get out of the dangerous, illegal trade he is in and marry the woman he loves.  But it is not that easy — due to Nisha's status as a foreign maid, her life actually doesn't belong to her, but rather to her employer, who has the right to fire Nisha if her relationship with Yiannis were discovered.  Like so many of her fellow domestic worker friends, Nisha has few options and while she is treated well by Petra, their relationship is a perfunctory one in that Petra knows nearly nothing about this woman who had taken such good care of her and raised as well as loved her daughter as her own. It is not until one night, when Nisha goes out and doesn't return, effectively vanishing into thin air, that Petra and Yiannis understand not just the profound impact Nisha had on their lives, but also the reality of who she was as a person.

Though the story here is about Nisha, the narrative is actually told from the alternating perspectives of Petra and Yiannis.  Lefteri writes in her author's note that this way of telling Nisha's story — the piecing "together of her existence through the memories of others" — was deliberate, and after understanding what Lefteri was trying to do, it made me appreciate the story more (I highly recommend reading the Author's Note after finishing the book, as Lefteri discusses the inspiration behind the story — it's definitely not to be missed!).  One of the things I love about this story is the fact that it gives a chance for the voices of the most vulnerable to be heard as well as understood — in this way, I found Nisha and her story to be tremendously powerful.

Having said all that, while I did find this story to be both moving and heart wrenching, I felt it didn't quite reach the level of emotional depth that The Beekeeper of Aleppo did.  Of course, that's not to say that Songbirds wasn't an emotional experience because it definitely was —but it didn't leave me speechless like Lefteri's previous work did.  Nevertheless, it's still a beautifully written, absolutely worthy read, one that I highly recommend.  A word of caution though: there are some scenes that describe cruelties done to the songbirds that are troubling and difficult to read — for those who might be bothered by these types of depictions, might be a good idea to gloss over them (luckily those scenes are few and far between).

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

Review: Sparks Like Stars (by Nadia Hashimi)

My Rating:  5 stars

 

Whenever I feel compelled to finish a really long book in around 2-3 days, especially during a particularly busy work week where I already don't have much time to read in the first place, that's usually a pretty good sign that the book will probably turn out to be one I really like.  This was certainly the case with Nadia Hashimi's newest release Sparks Like Stars, her third book set in her parents' home country of Afghanistan.  Given its page count (464 pages) and difficult subject matter, this would not have been an easy or quick read by any means — yet as soon as I started reading, from the very first page, this beautifully written story captivated me to the point that I didn't want to put the book down (and whenever I was forced to put it down in order to tend to personal matters, I wanted to get back to it as soon as possible).  The characters in here were all realistically rendered, even those appearing briefly, but it is the main protagonist Sitara (later renamed Aryana), whose journey we follow starting when she is 10 years old and then later in adulthood, who truly captured my heart. As the narrative was told from Sitara's first person point of view, this perspective made her experiences and everything she went through so much more heartfelt, which in turn, made this a powerful, emotional read from beginning to end. Sitara is an unforgettable character – one whom I was able to connect easily with and also root for. 

One of the things I love and appreciate about historical fiction is its ability to help us learn about people, places, and events that we may not have been familiar with previously.  This was certainly the case here with the portrayal of Afghanistan as a place as well as a character in the story.  Like many Americans, I only know of Afghanistan because of 9/11, when the country was thrust tragically and unwillingly into the spotlight, but its trajectory prior to that — the history of imperialism and colonialism that defined much of its existence, the historical events such as the Communist coup in 1978 that killed the country's President as well as his entire family — much of this was completely unknown to me prior to this point.  I appreciated the way Hashimi divided the story into two timelines — with the first half taking place in 1978 and the second half in 2008 — and how things evolve over the span of 30 years.  In her Author's Note, Hashimi explains that, while Sitara is a purely fictional character and the story is not based on her own life nor that of her family's, she did incorporate some of her personal experiences into shaping the character — for example, Hashimi's own experience as an Afghan American doctor who lived and worked in New York when 9/11 happened — which perhaps is why she was able to bring the emotional nuances of Sitara as a character to life.

As I mentioned earlier, this is not an easy read by any means — it is a sad and heartbreaking story of an innocent life torn apart by tragedy and senseless violence, of the guilt felt by those left behind, and the long-lasting impact it has on their lives.  At the same time though, it is also a story of survival, resilience, and ultimately, hope.  This is definitely a story worth reading — one that I know will stay with me for a long time to come.   And as the best works of historical fiction usually do, after I finished reading, I felt compelled to follow up and research the real life events that were a source of inspiration for the story. 

This is the first book of Hashimi's that I've read and immediately after I finished, I put both of her backlist books on my TBR to hopefully get to soon.  If you get the chance to pick this one up first though, I definitely recommend it!

Last One Out Shut Off the Lights (by Stephanie Soileau)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

Last One Out Shut Off the Lights is an interesting collection of short stories, all set in Louisiana, and featuring ordinary people going about their everyday lives.  The various protagonists in these stories range from teenagers to senior citizens, and through their voices, we get a glimpse of what life is like living in the type of last-chance town where things always feel as though they are in a constant state of flux.  The setting looms large in these stories, and in many ways, can be considered a character in and of itself, lending a hugely atmospheric nature that serves as a backdrop to each story.  

Of course, as is usually the case with short story collections, some were hits and some were misses, though all shared the common feelings of incompleteness and lack of closure to them.  With that said, I did like how all the stories explored issues of identity and belonging in ways both subtle and obvious — but most significantly, each story felt realistic and relatable in some manner. One of the things that struck me after I finished reading was how "ambivalence" could manifest itself in such varied ways — a sentiment that the author, Stephanie Soileau, demonstrated in a masterful way through the very different characters in each of the stories.  

Overall, I enjoyed this collection, even though I wasn't necessarily able to resonate with each character or with each story.  The many blurbs for this collection describe the stories as striking, fierce, evocative, empathetic, engaging — I agree with all of these, though I would also add "cleverly and thoughtfully" written, as each story gave me pause and made me ponder, in a way that I wasn't expecting.  I also learned a lot about Louisiana  — a state that I knew little to nothing about outside of the city of New Orleans being located there and also what had been in the news about Hurricane Katrina.  This is a collection I definitely recommend, a worthwhile read that I'm glad to have discovered (this was Jesmyn Ward's July pick for her book club on Literati).  It's also a relatively short read, but one that doesn't skimp on details in its depiction of Louisiana life and culture.

Review: Great Circle (by Maggie Shipstead)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

Wow, what a story!  

Before I go into how much I enjoyed this book, let me start things off by honestly admitting that, actually, I "almost" didn't end up reading this one, for various reasons. 

First and foremost, I was intimidated by the page length — when I initially accepted an ARC of this book from the publisher in NetGalley, I had no idea that this would be a 600–page tome.  With a TBR a mile high and so many books already lined up to read for the month of July, I definitely felt like I didn't have the time to spend on a long book (this is exacerbated by the fact that I'm a "one-book-at-a-time" kind of reader who also has problems DNFing books once I start them, no matter how bad the book gets).  Second, I was torn by the book's premise. While I love reading about strong women protagonists, and epic historical stories are usually right up my alley, the part that made me wary was the overarching subject matter.  Going into this, I knew that it would be about a female pilot circumnavigating the globe and undoubtedly, there would be a lot of technical language and details involving the mechanics of flying a plane and getting from one point to another (on the first 2 pages, before the story even starts, there is a detailed map charting the main character Marian Graves' journey - which, being someone who has no sense of direction and is incapable of reading maps, I was completely lost even after staring at the map for several minutes) — given my lack of interest in aviation and airplanes / flying, as well as my general aversion to books that go a bit too much into the "science-y" side of things because much of it usually goes over my head and therefore impacts my ability to enjoy the story, this of course added to my anxiety about reading this book.  Third, I had never read this author before and as such, didn't have the benefit of a positive or negative reaction to previous works to sway me either way.  In the end though, I decided to go for it — start the book and hope for the best. And now, after finishing this epic story, I can say for sure that it was absolutely worth the time and effort!

This book actually turned out to be completely different from what I expected (in a good way, of course).  Surprisingly, none of the fears that I initially had about the book ended up materializing.  Yes, there was a lot of technical detail about aviation and airplanes and flying, but it was done in a way that was accessible and didn't detract from the story itself.  Most importantly though, the story wasn't just about that — in fact, it's actually one of those stories that truly has something for everyone in terms of the themes and topics that it explores (i.e.: history, adventure, romance, relationships, complex family dynamics, war and sacrifice, love, heartbreak, contemporary societal and gender conflicts, etc.).  So far, this is the only book I've read that can truly be classified as having a multitude of settings that span the depths of time and space — from modern day Los Angeles in 2014 to a doomed cruise ship in the North Atlantic in 1914, to Prohibition-era Montana, to London and Europe where female pilots helped ferry warplanes for the ATA during WWII, to the wilds of Alaska, to Vancouver (Canada) to Seattle and New York, to the icy depths of Antarctica, to the unknown expanse of the skies above and beyond the clouds — from land to air to sea, this is a story that traverses the globe in a "great circle" worthy of its title.  

This magnificent, epic tale is beautifully written in prose that is lyrical, poetic, lively, descriptive, and as mentioned previously, also incredibly accessible, given its content.  Normally, a big book such as this one would take me more than a week to finish, but I found myself so absorbed and invested in the story and its characters that I felt compelled to keep turning the pages, which resulted in me being able to finish this massive tome over the course of a 3-day holiday weekend. Maggie Shipstead is indeed a gifted writer — I admire so much of what she tried to do with this story, from the impeccable research to the near flawless execution of the story, to the well-developed, realistic rendering of the characters (especially remarkable given the fact that many of the characters in the story were actually unlikable) — all of it came together in fantastic, epic fashion.

With all that said, the one complaint that I did have — and the main reason for why I gave this book 4.5 stars rather than 5 stars — is that I didn't really like the present day story arc involving Hadley Baxter.  While I understand the critical role that Hadley played in terms of helping Marian's story unfold as well as the parallels we are supposed to infer with their personalities and the paths their lives ultimately take, etc., I honestly could not bring myself to like Hadley.  She came across as annoying to me and I actually had no interest at all in her background or her "struggles" in Hollywood where she is seemingly "misunderstood" by everyone. It's hard to pinpoint exactly why, but I just couldn't stand her — thankfully, the chapters about her were extremely short, so I was able to skim majority of the pages about her until I got to the passages actually related to Marian's life.

With such an epic story, it's pretty much impossible to relay its scope and magnificence through a brief review.  This is a story that is guaranteed to be an immersive experience — a rewarding journey that is absolutely worth the time it takes to get to the end.  I am definitely glad I got the chance to read this one and of course there is no doubt that I will be exploring Shipstead's backlist now while looking forward to what she might have in store for us next!

Received ARC from Alfred A. Knopf publishers via NetGalley.

Review: The Sixth Wedding (by Elin Hilderbrand)

My Rating: 4 stars

I read Elin Hilderbrand's 28 Summers last year and was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the book (I'm not usually a fan of contemporary romances).  In addition to the well-developed characters, there was also depth to the story that made it a compelling read for me, though what I had loved most about that book was the structure, with each chapter starting off with various current event and pop culture references from that year – I definitely had a lot of fun taking that trip down memory lane!

 

The Sixth Wedding, which is out today, is the sequel to 28 Summers.  In this super short novella, the story opens in 2023, when the gang decides to reunite at the Nantucket cottage for one last Labor Day weekend.  We get a chance to find out what happened to each of the main characters since that fateful summer in 2020 and later, we get to see how their stories wrap up.   I love that Hilderbrand kept the same format with the current event and pop culture references, though instead of starting each chapter with them, she summed them all up in the Introduction, then after that, we got to hear from each of the characters.  While it was nice getting to catch up with these characters again, it was also bittersweet knowing Mallory wouldn't be a part of it.  Mallory was a one-of-a-kind character who was also the heart and soul of the story, so without her, of course things wouldn't be the same.  

 

Overall, I enjoyed this sequel, though I do wish that this had been longer (maybe not a full-length novel but definitely something more than 76 pages).  If you read and enjoyed 28 Summers, I definitely recommend reading this one too!  

 

 

Review: We Two Alone (by Jack Wang)

My Rating: 4 stars

Those familiar with my reading tastes have probably heard me say this way too many times:  I'm not usually a huge fan of short story collections because I don't like the "incomplete" nature of the format, as I always feel like I'm left hanging somehow, plus I oftentimes don't get the chance to connect to the characters the way I would in a full length novel.  Even though it can be a "hit or miss" reading experience for me, I will still pick up a short story collection if the themes or subject matter sound interesting enough to me – especially since, at least recently, I've encountered "hits" more than "misses" in the ones I've decided to try.  Such is the case with Jack Wang's debut short story collectionWe Two Alone, which I finished over the course of a busy weekend.  This well-written collection consists of seven stories, each of which features a Chinese protagonist from different walks of life, but with the common experience of having to navigate the world as immigrants.  

 

Over the years, I've read plenty of stories about the Chinese immigrant experience, but this particular collection stood out in several ways.  First was the setting of each story, which spanned not only continents but also decades -- starting in the 1920s and spanning to the modern day, each story takes place in a different part of the world:  Canada, China, Austria, South Africa, UK, and 2 states in the U.S. (Florida and New York).  Second was the characters, all of whom hailed from different backgrounds (from the poor, uneducated, disenfranchised, to the wealthy and privileged, to the middle class) and professions (doctor, actor, hockey player, student, teacher, etc.).  Not only that, each story was also told from a different life perspective -- ranging from an orphaned teenager struggling with identity and acceptance, to a mixed race couple navigating the complexities of an unconventional relationship, to a middle class family experiencing unexpected hurdles when buying a house, to an innocent child inadvertently witnessing the atrocities of war, to an itinerant actor endlessly trying to figure out his life while yearning to reunite with his ex-wife, etc. 

 

Taken together, this is a collection that truly does highlight the diversity of the Chinese diaspora, yet at the same time, it also infers that there is a certain universality to the immigrant experience in terms of discrimination, bias, and racial prejudice that so many of us can relate to, regardless of whether we are from the same cultural or socio-economic background.   In this regard, I was actually able to resonate with some aspect of every single story, which is a rare occurrence for me with short story collections (and especially with a collection as diverse as this one).  With that said though, this also made the feeling of disappointment greater for me knowing that I was only getting a snippet of each character's story and would be left to ponder their fate on my own.  This is one of the things with short story collections (specifically the ones with no inter-connected characters) that I can't stand – the feeling of being left hanging.  With whatever story I read, I need to have closure – whether good, bad, or ambiguous, doesn't matter as long I don't feel like something's missing or the story is incomplete.  But of course, that's just me -- aside from the lack of closure issue (which is a common feature of most short stories and definitely not exclusive to this book), I still enjoyed this collection immensely and absolutely recommend it.  Prior to reading this collection, I had actually never heard of this author before, but I'm happy to have discovered his work and look forward to reading more from him in the future.

 

Received ARC from HarperVia publishers via Edelweiss.

 

 

Review: At the Chinese Table (by Carolyn Phillips)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

 

"...a fine meal [should be] designed to feed the mind, not just the mouth and the stomach."

 

It's no secret that I love food memoirs – in fact, if given a choice between reading a regular memoir and a food-related memoir, the food one wins out every time!  The reason for this is, well yes, I love to eat, but more significantly, I'm also fascinated by the "culture" of food and the myriad ways that different experiences with food can shape our lives, often in the most unexpected ways. In this regard, Carolyn Phillips' newest work At the Chinese Table was the absolute perfect read, one that checked every single box in terms of what I look for in memoirs, yet at the same time, it also exceeded my expectations in so many ways.  It's not often that a memoir goes way beyond its stated intent of providing insight into aspects of the author's life by incorporating elements such as: a beautifully written, immersive narrative that brought various delectable food dishes to life through lush, vivid descriptions; wonderfully-rendered illustrations (all drawn by the author herself!) woven throughout each chapter that perfectly complemented the author's story; an in-depth exploration of not just a diverse and rich cuisine, but also its history and culture; easy-to-follow recipes with helpful tips and even a glossary of often-encountered terms; and ancestral stories about the Chinese family she married into, a family that inadvertently taught her so much about life, love, relationships, and food.

My experience reading this book was actually very different from all of the previous food memoirs I've read in the past due to the fact that I grew up in a traditional Chinese family just like the author's husband – a background that meant, going into this book, I already had a certain familiarity with the cuisines and the various dishes described in such vivid detail throughout the book.  With Chinese food oftentimes depicted in a homogenous, stereotypical way in mainstream American culture, it was refreshing to see Phillips (a white American woman) go the opposite direction and actually take the time to explore, recognize, and embrace the variety of flavors and nuances of Chinese cuisine  (of course, the fact that her Chinese husband is an epicurean who shares her love for good, authentic Chinese food definitely helped) — to the point that her enthusiasm and love for Chinese cuisine shines forth in every page.  I love how Phillips covers such a variety of different cuisines from all across Taiwan and Mainland China — from food stalls, street markets, and hole-in-the-wall local diners to traditional family dishes and even "haute couture" fare from fancy restaurants.  I mean, how often will you see dishes such as the following mentioned all in one book: yanduxian (one of my favorite Shanghainese dishes), dandan mein, suanni bairou (a Sichuanese dish that is spicy as hell but oh so delicious!), pidan doufu (a tofu dish with preserved egg), xianfantuan(rice roll with fried cruller and other stuffing that, when paired with a warm bowl of soy bean milk, is one of the most heavenly of Taiwanese breakfasts!), hongxiao shizitou (red-braised lion's head meatballs), fenzheng paigu(rice-covered steamed pork ribs over sweet potato — another of my favorite dishes that I rarely see mentioned anywhere!), just to name a few. It was such a delight to see so many familiar dishes (and more) given such detailed coverage (the one downside though was that I started craving these dishes as I was reading knowing full well I wouldn't be able to satisfy those cravings any time soon).  

Without a doubt, this has been one of the most personal and heartfelt memoirs I've read to date!  It's definitely a must-read for anyone who loves and appreciates the varied flavors of authentic Chinese cuisine.  Highly recommended!

Received finished copy from publisher W.W. Norton Company via BookBrowse First Impressions program.

 

Review: Diamond Hill (by Kit Fan)

My Rating: 2 stars

 

I really really wanted to like this book…actually, not just like it, but love it. I mean, how often do I come across a book written in English that is set in my birth city of Hong Kong and is actually about HK people, places, culture, history, etc.  After reading the premise, my expectation was that this would be a story that was truly HK-focused, with an authentic portrayal of the city that wasn't written from a primarily Western point of view.  Going into this, I was excited and kept thinking to myself — finally, a book about the old HK that will satisfy the nostalgia I've been feeling lately about a city I've always loved, but had become increasingly foreign to me in recent years.  I went into this with high hopes and also preparing to rate it highly.  Unfortunately, this book turned out to be nothing like what I expected (in a bad way) and after reading it, instead of feeling nostalgic, I actually ended up feeling frustrated and disappointed.

 

The biggest issue I had with this book was that the writing was very disjointed and uneven, which wouldn't have been as bad of a problem except that the story overall was also poorly executed — both of these things, along with several other issues I found, made this an extremely frustrating read for me. In fact, I had actually wanted to DNF this book several times (which is not a good sign, as I'm a stickler for finishing every book I read), but I pressed on, reminding myself every couple pages of all the things I had mentioned above about why I had been so excited to read this.  I ultimately finished, but not without resorting to skimming the last 50 pages or so (because by that point, I was already at my wit's end).

 

The main thing about the writing and execution that frustrated me was the constant switching back and forth between style and tone — one minute, the writing would be eloquent, descriptive, even philosophical, but then the next minute, the writing would descend into profanity-laced vulgarities that seemed to come out of nowhere.  If this happened only once or twice, then it wouldn't be a problem, but the writing actually alternated between these two extremes for the entire story.  As if that weren't enough, there was also a lot of switching back and forth between English and either formal Chinese or Cantonese slang (with English translation in parentheses next to it) — normally, I would be happy to see a book written in English about Chinese culture / experience utilize Chinese characters as needed to enhance the story, but in this case, the switching was done haphazardly, in a random way that made absolutely no sense to me — for instance, randomly inserting Chinese (with English translation) in the middle of characters' dialogues or having some side character who only shows up for like a minute blurt out a bunch of profanities in Cantonese as a main character passes by.  Again, I would be fine with it if incorporating these phrases served a purpose in the story, advanced the plot, or were necessary to characterization— but none of it did…the phrases that the author chose to write in Chinese didn't seem to have any rhyme or reason to them.  From a character perspective, it didn't make sense for some of the characters to speak a hybrid of English / Cantonese to the extent that these characters did (yes, some Hong Kongers do mix some English in their speech, but most ordinary folks don't constantly switch back and forth between the two languages like that unless they're bicultural or they were educated overseas or in an international school where everything is taught in English).  It almost seemed like the author couldn't decide whether he wanted to write in English or Chinese and so decided to do a hodgepodge of both.  

In addition, I also found the prolific and gratuitous use of Cantonese slang words and profanities throughout the story not only unnecessary, but also annoying.  In the Author's Note at the end of the book, Kit Fan explains that he included the Cantonese slang and profanities in both Chinese and English throughout the book in order to "give a culturally distinctive inflection to a language that is under threat, not unlike the shanty town in the novel" – while I agree with the sentiment that Cantonese is a language that has increasingly come under threat over the years, I disagree with the method of sprinkling 'random Cantonese profanities + their English translations' throughout the story as a means of preserving the "vitality of the language."  Even if the author wanted to show the distinctive cultural flavor of Cantonese slang (or the language as a whole), incorporating a few phrases here and there would've been enough — but inundating the story with it, especially when majority of the slang and profanities were irrelevant to the story, that's going overboard in my opinion.  In terms of the translations in parentheses— perhaps because I am both a Cantonese and English speaker myself (as well as a translator for the Chinese/English language pairing), this method especially frustrated me, as my brain is wired to automatically compare the Chinese and English to see if it was translated correctly (quite a bit of it actually wasn't), so each time it switched to Chinese, I got jarred out of the story – basically, rather than enhancing the story or helping me appreciate it more, the Chinese words and phrases with its translations ended up being a distraction that made it difficult to concentrate on the story itself.

 

Speaking of the story – well, this was another aspect that I found problematic.  First of all, there wasn't really a plot to speak of – there were a lot of detailed descriptions of places and characters' surroundings, but little to no substance in terms of what actually happens.  If I had to summarize this book, I would say that it is essentially an "information dump about HK" – there is an abundance of name-dropping of various HK people, places, things, historical events, cultural aspects, etc., almost all of which would be recognizable to anyone decently familiar with the city, but none of it advanced the plot and very little (if any) was actually relevant to the story.  Even the characters had no depth to them -- it seemed like the main purpose of the characters was to either 1) describe their surroundings, or 2) regurgitate heaps of (oftentimes unnecessary and irrelevant) information about HK to anyone who would listen, or 3) insult others with some type of profanity / vulgarity and/or drop a random Chinese idiom in the middle of a lengthy, rambling discourse about things may or may not have been important, but I had already stopped caring by that point.

 

What bothered me most about this book though was the stereotypical way in which all the female characters were portrayed in the story.  Of course, I wasn't expecting a male author to write complex female characters completely accurately, but I was disappointed (and more than a bit miffed) that the author seemed to go the route of portraying all the women as sexual stereotypes who essentially fell into three categories:  the uptight, sex-deprived nun; the promiscuous, 'gangster wannabe' tomboy;  and the sex-crazy, possibly a little unhinged prostitute.  Though I understand that these portrayals probably weren't intentional on the author's part, as a woman, I found such depictions offensive and worrisome, especially since we've seen over the past year how harmful perpetuating such stereotypes can be.  

 

With all that said, I do believe in giving credit where it's due and so I have to say that the author did a pretty good job giving readers unfamiliar with HK a better understanding of what life in Diamond Hill was like back in the day.  The feelings of despair and uncertainty that were pretty widespread throughout HK in the years after the signing of the Joint Declaration were also well-depicted — feelings that were exacerbated tenfold after what happened in Tiananmen in 1989 (and sparked fears about the fate of Hong Kongers after the handover).

Even though this book absolutely didn't work for me, I am clearly the exception here given all the 4 and 5 star reviews I've seen for this one.  So I would say check out the other reviews so you can make an informed decision on whether you'd be interested in reading this one. 

Received ARC from World Editions via Edelweiss.

  

 

 

Review: The Maidens (by Alex Michaelides)

My Rating: 3 stars

Being one of the few people out there who hasn't yet read The Silent Patient (though I am familiar with all the buzz surrounding the book, as it seemed like everyone couldn't stop talking about it), I went into Alex Michaelides' second novel The Maidens with very few (if any) expectations. In the end, I found this new sophomore effort quite lackluster for the most part — and while I can't use the word "disappointing" (since I haven't read The Silent Patient so I don't have a comparison point) to describe this one, I can say that I would be surprised if it gets the same level of hype as its predecessor.  

Overall, I found this to be a run-of-the-mill psychological thriller that, while entertaining, largely lacked substance.  In addition to not liking any of the characters in the story (more on this later), I felt the main problem with this book is the plausibility factor — meaning that much of the plot, the way things played out, didn't make a whole lot of sense.  In fact, some of the plot points felt far-fetched to the point that I had to suspend disbelief through most of it.  For me, one of the most glaring nonsensical plot points was to have a murder investigation team — from the chief inspector to the forensic analysts to everyone in between — be so utterly useless and incompetent, it was beyond laughable (the investigation was akin to child's play essentially — there was little to no "professionalism" to speak). Another plot point that didn't make sense was to have a therapist (the story's main protagonist Mariana) with no criminal investigation experience and who was essentially a stranger (she was an alumni of the university where the murders occurred and her niece was currently in attendance at the university) be "allowed" to keep repeatedly (and defiantly) inserting herself into the investigation (not only that, she seemed to have free reign on campus too, which I thought was odd considering she was neither faculty nor student — she was even able to book rooms and have meetings with people as though she lived there, even though she supposedly hadn't set foot on campus for over 20 years).  Speaking of Mariana, she was a character I actually couldn't stand at all — I felt like for most of the story, she was either pining for her dead husband (who seemed to get conjured up into Mariana's thoughts every couple pages) or irrationally working herself into a frenzy over some aspect of the murder cases (which, again, had nothing to do with her).  

Not surprisingly, this was actually a thriller where I figured everything out pretty early on, as it was fairly obvious in my opinion — but of course I kept reading because I was curious whether I got it right.  For this reason, the "big reveal" ended up being anti-climactic for me and there really wasn't much of a "twist" to speak of (nothing that kept me on the edge of my seat or made my jaw drop). I also felt there were way too many distractions with the storyline, most of which were unnecessary — red herrings galore that I assume were meant to cleverly distract but instead convoluted the story in a way that made it frustrating to read (at least for me).

With all that said, there were parts of the story I did appreciate, such as the atmospheric way that the university campus and its surroundings were described.  I also thought the various connections to Greek mythology were interesting and done in a way that didn't require much prior knowledge to the subject matter, so it was accessible to the average reader.

Since I already feel like I've said too much, I will go ahead and end it here.  I will say that I did like this one overall, but I didn't feel that it was anything special — it's basically a thriller I'll read once and forget about.  I know I'm probably an outlier with this one, so I would recommend checking out the other reviews for a more balanced perspective. And yes, I still do intend on reading The Silent Patient at some point — who knows, maybe my opinion will change after reading that one, especially since I was told there is a connection between both books.

Received ARC from Celadon Books via their Early Reader program. 

Review: Heavy: An American Memoir (by Kiese Laymon)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

 

Last month, when I found out that author Jesmyn Ward started a book club on Literati, I immediately went to go check it out and of course, ultimately, I couldn't resist joining.  For the club's inaugural read, Ward chose Kiese Laymon's memoir Heavy, which he wrote in the second person perspective directly addressing his mother.  I've read quite a few memoirs over the years and this one, by far, has been the most powerful and thought-provoking.  In eloquent, beautifully-rendered, poetic language, Laymon writes honestly and candidly about his  experiences – from his difficult coming-of-age growing up as a hard-headed, heavyset black boy in Jackson, Mississippi, to his complicated relationship with his brilliant but abusive mother, to his own struggles with obesity, eating disorders, gambling addiction, and a lifetime spent running away from truths he didn't want to face.  Deeply interwoven throughout Laymon's narrative is also a searing exploration of systemic racism in America as well as the complex (and oftentimes misunderstood) realities of living as a person of color in a society that largely prefers to move forward without having to reckon with its past.

 

Laymon tells his story with a raw honesty and candor that I absolutely found admirable.  It's not easy to share traumatic memories about one's life, especially memories that previously (and continues to) evoked so much pain, anger, confusion, shame, sadness, etc. – yet Laymon does not hold back, and instead, bares his soul as well as his heart.  He doesn't hide his own flaws, nor does he try to deflect or assign blame for his trauma onto others – in addition to taking responsibility for his own shortcomings and where his actions may have hurt others, his reluctance to criticize his mom despite the pain she caused him, choosing to love rather than to confront, then finally communicating his feelings to her via this book, to me, it speaks volumes.  I found his journey so heartbreaking, yet he was willing to share such a vulnerable part of himself with us – I admire and appreciate his courage!

 

Not surprisingly, this was a difficult book to read, not just because of the "heavy" subject matter, but also because of the visceral emotions that reading about Laymon's experiences evoked.  On a personal level, I was able to relate to so many of Laymon's struggles, whether it was within himself, his family, or society as a whole, despite the fact that we both come from different cultures and backgrounds (he is a Black man who grew up in Mississippi while I'm a Chinese woman who grew up in California) due to having experienced some of the same issues that he did.  I recognize the pain from having been a victim of abuse and the impact it can have on your sense of self and well-being.  I understand confusion of having a parent-child relationship where you love each other dearly, yet somehow can't step yourselves from hurting each other over and over again (as well as the cycle of shame and guilt that goes along with it).  I know what it feels like to grow up in an environment where, no matter how hard you try or how much you are able to achieve, you'll forever be considered "less than," merely because of your skin tone or facial features.  Laymon talks about the ills of systemic racism and the ease with which it allows some people to weaponize "blackness" against him, and against his fellow black brothers and sisters, akin to ways that I've seen the "model minority" label weaponized against many in the Asian community.  

Given the weight of the topics and the tremendous ground that Laymon covers, it is nearly impossible to reconcile the many stirring insights and revelations that he sets forth in these memories that he shares so candidly with us.  This is a highly recommended memoir, one that is both heartfelt and heart-rending, but a must-read nevertheless.