Review: Fault Lines (by Emily Itami)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

 

It's not often that I make the decision to buy a book based on it's cover, but in the case of Emily Itami's debut novel Fault Lines, the cover art – a dark blue image of Tokyo's skyscape at night, overlaid by beautiful pink cherry blossoms -- was so gorgeous that I couldn't resist having it on my bookshelf so I could pull it out and look at it whenever I wanted.  I did end up checking out the plot summary after I bought the book and while it's one I was definitely interested in reading, I couldn't didn't jump in right away due to the LONG list of books I already had lined up that I needed to get to.   So of course, when one of my book clubs chose this book for their April selection, I was more than delighted to be given the excuse to finally get around to reading it (though not without some reservations about whether I would feel the same about the story as I did about the cover).  Now after having finished, I am happy to report that I really enjoyed the story, which I found to be by turns both delightful and thought- provoking.

 

At the center of the story is Mizuki, a Japanese housewife and mother of two young children (a 10-year-old daughter and 4-year-old son) who, after more than a decade of marriage, has fallen into a resigned complacency of sorts where her days are spent washing the dishes, folding the laundry, taking care of the kids, and being invisible to her extremely hardworking husband who oftentimes can't even be bothered to look at her when he's at home because he is too busy taking care of work matters on his phone.  One day, standing on the balcony of the glamorous high-rise apartment in Tokyo where she lives with her family, Mizuki has the sudden urge to throw herself over the railing.  She doesn't succeed in killing herself of course (not a spoiler), but the incident makes her realize just how mundane and depressing her life has become.  She loves her children deeply, but also yearns for the emotional connection that she used to have with her husband, Tatsuya, back early in their courtship and marriage, when she used to feel seen and appreciated as a partner.  So it is that when she meets Kiyoshi, a charismatic and hugely successful restauranteur, she is drawn to his easy-going nature and they become good friends.  When she's with Kiyoshi, Mizuki is reminded of the person she used to be – funny, charming, and perfectly happy roaming around the city she loves, admiring the sights and sounds, eating good food, and having meaningful conversation with someone who understands her and genuinely cares about her.  But as their relationship deepens, Mizuki finds it more and more difficult to reconcile her devotion to her family and the obligations of motherhood with the happy, carefree existence she has with Kiyoshi. 

 

The entire story is told from Mizuki's first person of view, which I felt worked really well in this instance, as it made her struggles more real and heartfelt.  But I think what helped the most was the author Emily Itami's thoughtful and sensitive, yet entirely realistic portrayal of Mizuki as an ordinary woman struggling with universally relatable issues such as marriage, motherhood, family expectations, societal norms, etc. Itami presents Mizuki in a way that is sincere and honest, helping us understand the character completely through the good moments as well as the bad ones so we can make sense of why Mizuki makes the decisions she does – the effect of this, for me, was that even though I didn't agree with some of those decisions, I couldn't help empathizing with Mizuki and rooting for her along the way. 

Another aspect I really appreciated about the story was how emotionally resonant it ended up being.  I'm not married and I don't have children, yet I was still able to relate to Mizuki's struggle with understanding and reconciling her life choices with the reality of how her life turned out. I resonated especially with Mizuki's conflicting feelings toward her identity and culture — more specifically, feeling bound by the constraints of cultural and societal expectations in her various roles as wife, mother, daughter, friend, etc., yet when the opportunity to be free of these bounds arises, feeling hesitant to take the first step out of fear of what the change might bring.  The beauty of this story is in its nuanced commentary on life and what it means to be a woman in contemporary Asian society.

One thing to note with this story is that, plot-wise, nothing much actually happens — instead, through Mizuki's experiences, we are treated to atmospheric and mesmerizing observations of a city that we get to know intimately by the end of the book. I've always wanted to visit Tokyo (it's one of my bucket list destinations) and after reading this book, that desire has grown even stronger.  Perhaps someday that will become a reality— in the meantime, I don't mind revisiting through the various descriptions in this book.

Review: The Golden Doves (by Martha Hall Kelly)



My Rating: 2.5 stars

For the second time this month, looks like I am once again an outlier who didn't like a book written by a popular author that everyone else seemed to really enjoy.  In both instances, the reasons why I disliked the books were very similar, even though the genres, styles, and story lines were completely different (more on this later).  The interesting thing is that, with both authors, I had read previous books by them and had enjoyed those immensely, but their newest releases I disliked to the point of nearly breaking my own rule and giving them the DNF treatment (in the end, I hung on, but barely, since I had to resort to skimming large sections of both books in order to get through them).  It's also possible that the previous books were also problematic, but I didn't notice at the time, and now having evolved as a reader, I'm perhaps more critical of things that maybe didn't bother me before.  Either way, both experiences have made me realize that I need to be even more selective with the books I decide to pick up (not that I wasn't selective before, as I've always been a lot pickier than most people I know when it comes to this stuff) – basically, I have enough to deal with in my life at the moment and I really don't want to add "frustrating reading experience" to it if I can help it…

 

Before I talk specifics about what bothered me with this particular book, I have to say that I did read Martha Hall Kelly's previous Lilac Girls series and thought those books were really well done – which is why I'm completely baffled as to how Kelly's newest release, The Golden Doves, ended up on the absolute opposite end of the spectrum for me.  Initially, going into this book, I was actually expecting to like it, not only because I had enjoyed Kelly's previous works, but also because the genre is historical fiction (which is my favorite genre) and the premise really did sound interesting:  two former female spies (the titular 'golden doves') who endured unspeakable atrocities during World War II join forces once again after the war is over to heroically take down a bunch of Nazi fugitives who had evaded justice.  Given this description, I assumed that I would be getting a thrilling, fast-paced espionage story with two strong, kickass female protagonists at its center (yes, a la Kate Quinn, whose works I adore).  Well, friends, that assumption was dead wrong!  What I ended up getting instead was a plot hole-filled, unnecessarily draggy, poorly-written, boring (I could keep going with the negative adjectives, but I will stop here) story featuring two naïve, immature, annoying-as-hell, frustratingly pathetic (which, believe it or not, is an understatement) female protagonists who were so stereotypically written, it's not even funny.  I mean, literally all you need to know is that Josie Anderson is American and Arlette LaRue is French – those identities essentially drive the entire story in that they dictate how the two women act, think, talk throughout much of this (unnecessarily long 500+ page) book. With Arlette especially, we are reminded time and time again throughout the entire story, both directly and indirectly, that she is a French woman (which to me, felt like the author was trying to use that to justify why Arlette behaves the way she does — namely, the constant flirting with men and always having to come across as 'sexy' and 'sensual').  And yes, both women were utterly unconvincing as spies – sure, it can be argued that both were recruited as teenagers (though this already doesn't make sense because why them??) so of course they would be immature, but the problem is, nearly a decade later, when they became grownups (both when they are apart and when they reunite), they still conducted themselves in exactly the same immature manner in nearly every circumstance.

 

For me, the biggest issue with this book was the way the characters were written, which can essentially be summarized in two words:  unrealistic and unlikeable.  First, Josie – she works as an agent at U.S. Army Intelligence, but she is impulsive, irrational, and has no sense of awareness or common sense whatsoever (as an example — in one scene, she knows someone is trying to kill her, yet after nearly getting run over, she walks into a hotel room without checking it first, immediately pours herself a drink, leaves her firearm in plain sight on the kitchen counter, then blindly pushes open another door, completely unaware that someone is following her).  Much of her behavior and actions throughout the story don't align with her job -- in fact, several characters she encounters throughout the story outright question whether she was ever trained because she kept doing stupid things.  And that's when she's an adult…as a teenager, she actually does even more ridiculous things, which, of course, is not surprising at that age – what's surprising is why she was chosen to be recruited as a spy in the first place. Of course, this also makes what happens at the end, with her career, entirely unplausible.

 

As far as Arlette goes, I honestly don't even know where to start.  While Josie's story arc was ridiculous but at least somewhat tolerable, Arlette's story arc was absolutely outrageous.  Pretty much all Arlette does for most of the story can be summarized as follows: 1) pine for her son, 2) flirt with every guy she encounters, 3) berate herself for being "pathetic" and "ridiculous" because of how easily she falls for men (especially the handsome ones — though it seems that, according to Arlette and Josie, every man they encounter – and there are plenty in this story -- who isn't a Nazi fugitive is "handsome" or "good-looking" in some way).  As an example of how outrageous and nonsensical Arlette's story arc got — I ended up skim-skipping most of the sections where Arlette was in French Guiana (which was, oh, like a third of the book) because a lot of it was useless fluff that didn't advance the plot much (except near the end), plus I got tired of reading about Arlette lusting after the bodyguard every couple pages (no exaggeration – there were actually scenes where Arlette spies on the guard taking a shower, or her blouse conveniently flies open in his presence somehow, or she's in a bathrobe when he suddenly enters the room for no reason – not to mention all the gratuitous references to the bodyguard's "beautiful eyes" or hot physique or whatnot) — it basically got into "steamy romance" territory, which to me, made absolutely no sense given what the story was supposed to be about.

 

Another thing that irked me about this book was that the entire narrative was written in first person, alternating between the "voices" of Josie and Arlette.  Normally, this would not be too much of a problem, but when both of the main characters are so unlikeable (and problematically written like they were here), to have to hear the story told from their perspective and be subjected to their every ridiculous, outlandish thought – well, let's just say it made this already tedious and frustrating read even more tortuous.  Interestingly enough, the last couple books I read that I didn't like (all new releases) were in the same format – first person point of view narrated by the main protagonist(s).  I noticed this format is used a lot with mysteries and thrillers, which I can understand, as the limited perspective could help build up the air of mystery or suspense in the story, but with historical fiction, it seems like it would be less effective…though I guess at the end of the day, doesn't matter too much as long as it's done correctly, which it obviously wasn't in this case, as it made the entire story sound stilted and awkward.

 

Overall, I was hugely disappointed with this book.  It actually had the potential to be a very powerful, emotional story about the Holocaust and its aftermath, while also shedding light on historical atrocities such as the Lebensborn program, the secret experiments at the concentration camps, the underground network that helped the most heinous of Nazi fugitives evade justice after the war, etc.  Unfortunately, Kelly took the story in an entirely wrong direction with the contrived plot and the ludicrously nonsensical (not to mention unrealistic) characters.  Ironically, the Author's Note at the end of the book actually does a good job of covering the historical details and also provides references for non-fiction books that cover these topics.  I mention this because I'm kicking myself now for wasting my time reading 500+ pages of a story that I disliked when I could've just read the Author's Note and found out everything I needed to know (including the basic plot and the ending, which there are major spoilers for in the Author's Note).   

 

To me, this book was a waste of time, but again, as I mentioned earlier, I'm an outlier with this one so don't just take my word for it.  If you're on the fence about whether to pick this one up or not (with the page count, it's actually quite a time investment), I would recommend checking out other reviews before deciding.

 

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

 

The Cuban Heiress (by Chanel Cleeton)

My Rating: 4 stars

After finishing a book last week that left a bad taste in my mouth, I needed a palette cleanser, a book that I knew I would likely enjoy.  Glancing through my options (amongst the list of April "upcoming" reads I hope to get to), I saw Chanel Cleeton's latest historical novel The Cuban Heiress and I knew that would be the perfect choice.  I've read 5 of Cleeton's books so far and while I enjoyed some of them more than others, I've never been disappointed in her ability to deliver the goods (a solid, satisfying read with compelling characters that are easy to root for). 

 

It's actually hard to talk about this story without giving some aspect of the plot away, so this review will be short, brief, and yes, a bit on the vague side (if the little that is mentioned piques your interest, then I definitely recommend picking this one up and reading it for yourself!).  

 

The story is based on a true event – the disaster that occurred aboard the luxury cruise ship Morro Castle during its voyage from Havana to New York back in 1934. Narrated from the alternating perspectives of the two female protagonists, Elena Palacio and Catherine Dohan, the story unfolded in a way that I felt was a little bit of a departure from Cleeton's last couple books -- whereas the focus with those were more on the historical aspects, this time around, the story seemed to lean more into the mystery / suspense vibe (which I'm totally fine with, since it was done well in this case) as well as the romantic relationships (which thankfully didn't overwhelm the story, so I'm fine with that as well).   Though I will admit that I was hoping there would be more emphasis on the historical aspect, especially about Cuba, since that was one of the areas I enjoyed most with Cleeton's previous novels.  While Cleeton does continue to pay tribute to her Cuban heritage in this story, there isn't as much focus on it in the sense that Cuban history doesn't play as heavily into the plot or the characters' lives compared to her previous works (aside from the fact that one of the characters, Elena, is Cuban, and one leg of the cruise ship's journey is to Havana, the primary events that drive the plot in this story actually have nothing to do with Cuba at all).   Not that I'm complaining though, since the story overall was well-written, intriguing, and engaging to the point that it held my interest and I found it hard to put down after I started reading it -- the way that the 2 characters' backstories were presented not only got me invested in how things would pan out for them, but also had me wondering throughout the entire time whether their stories would converge and if so, how?

 

One thing I did miss with this book is the lack of connection back to the Perez family.  Since Cleeton switched to writing historical fiction in 2018 with Next Year in Havana, which was the first book to feature the Perez family, she has included some kind of connection back to the family in each of her subsequent works (the stand alone ones that weren't direct sequels to the original).  For me, this was part of the fun with reading Cleeton's books — identifying that connection and also getting that sense of satisfaction from having remembered the particular character or relation or plot point back to the original story.  

All in all, this was another enjoyable read from an author whose works I know I can count on to get me out of a reading rut or, in this case, erase the disappointment of a previous less-than satisfying read.  I definitely look forward to reading whatever Cleeton has in store for us next!

Received ARC from Berkeley via NetGalley.

Review: The Soulmate (by Sally Hepworth)

My Rating:  2.5 stars

Before I start, just a quick disclaimer:  I'm one of the outliers who didn't like this book much, so I won't have too many good things to say about it in my review.  If this is going to be an issue for those reading this, then I suggest stopping right here.  Don't say I didn't warn you!

Ok, so here's my unpopular opinion: overall, I really really disliked this book — to the point that I  struggled to write this review because I had trouble choosing which of the myriad of "issues" to rant about.   Below is just a smattering of things I had a problem with (not all-inclusive of course). 

First, the writing, which to me, felt quite different from the previous Sally Hepworth novels I had read.  The writing this time around felt stilted and choppy and a bit elementary if I'm being honest.  There was a lot  of "I did this, then I did that, then I did this" (and by A LOT, I mean pretty much every chapter — there are 87 chapters) — with much of the detail being about unnecessary stuff that had nothing to do with the plot (honestly, does it matter to me that a character 'went to the supermarket, pulled out a cart, walked down the aisle, put stuff in the cart'? Nope!).  What made this worse was that the entire story was told from the first person point of view, so it sounded super awkward to hear the characters describe their own mundane actions (I.e.:"I picked up the laptop, I walked over to the table, I put it down and I opened the lid").  This also made the story feel unnecessarily long and dragged out — which normally wouldn't be a problem except that this is supposed to be a domestic thriller / suspense novel and mundane details like this bog down the plot.

Speaking of the plot, that was another thing that didn't work in this story.  Many of the plot points felt contrived and forced, but what bothered me the most was the ridiculousness of the main character Pippa's story arc — for much of the story, I found myself alternating between wanting to slap Pippa (more on this later) and suspending my disbelief every couple pages at the repeated stupidity of some of the characters' (mostly Pippa's) actions/behaviors/decisions (wait, she swept his behavior under the rug AGAIN?!?!?!).

And that brings me to what irked me the most about this story — the characters, all of whom weren't just unlikable ("loathsome" is probably more accurate), but frustratingly so, to the point that I couldn't bring myself to  feel anything but annoyance with all of them (but especially with Pippa).  The way Pippa's character was written, she felt like a caricature rather than a real person.  It didn't make an ounce of sense to me how Pippa was portrayed as a smart, confident lawyer and doting, assured mother of two young daughters one minute, but the next minute, as soon as her husband Gabe walks into the room, she becomes someone who deliberately buries her head in the sand, ignores all red flags (even the obvious ones that even she herself says are problematic), gets defensive whenever anyone says anything remotely critical about Gabe, second guesses and lies to herself over and over (and over and over and over again), and basically adopts an incredibly naive (not to mention frustratingly stupid and irrational) "I can't live without him so I must turn a blind eye and find excuses for his repeated s**tty behavior regardless of how that negatively impacts me or the kids" attitude.  To be honest, Pippa is exactly the type of nonsensical character that I absolutely cannot stand in any story — basically a twisted variation of the "damsel in distress" archetype but a hundred times more annoying because she is actually capable of "saving" herself and getting herself out of the many bad situations she finds herself in, but she chooses (repeatedly) not to do so, then justifies her decisions / actions with one lame excuse after another.  To me, it seems that even the author Hepworth finds this behavior problematic, as there is a scene near the later part of the book where Pippa's sister Kat confronts Pippa about the irrational way she constantly excuses her husband's behavior/ actions…Kat basically lays into Pippa, asking her point blank "how long [is she] going  to live like this?"  When Pippa gives a by-her-own-admission pathetic response (the exact quote is "A pathetic response, I know, but the only one I have."), Kat replies: "Fine. But I can't support you anymore. Not when you keep acting so damn stupid."  My sentiments (toward Pippa) exactly!!

As I stated earlier, there were a lot of things I disliked about this book and I honestly only touched on a few main ones, but I will stop here.  One thing that I did like was the ending, which I thought was done well, but unfortunately, coming at the tail end of the story, it was "too little, too late."  This was also one of those rare instances where, throughout the entire time I was reading, there were multiple moments that I was tempted to DNF the book (I have a rule about finishing every book I start, which I don't break often, so the fact I felt like DNFing is a big deal for me) — but I ended up plowing through it (albeit painfully).  

I think I will be taking a break from Hepworth's books for the time being, as this one obviously left a bad taste in my mouth and I honestly wasn't too keen on her previous book, The Younger Wife, either (I detailed the reasons why in my review of that book so if you're curious, feel free to check out that review). But then again, this is just me and my specific tastes — I didn't take to this newest book but many others did, so I suggest checking out those reviews as well for a more balanced perspective.

Received ARC from St. Martin's Press via NetGalley.

Review: Paper Names (by Susie Luo)

My Rating:  4 stars

Going into Susie Luo's debut novel Paper Names, I knew to expect an immigrant story, as I gathered as much from reading the summary and a couple reviews beforehand. However, what I wasn't expecting was an immigrant story that would be so different from what I've read in the past.

To start off, the structure of the story was quite unique. Told from the perspectives of three main characters — Tony, Tammy, and Oliver — the narrative alternated not just between the characters, but also between multiple timelines in a non-linear, non-chronological fashion.  In addition, the narrative also switched back and forth between first and third person depending on which character's perspective the story was being told from (all of Tammy's chapters were in first person).  Normally, this type of structure would be difficult to follow, but it actually worked well in this instance, as I found the story flowed pretty seamlessly from one perspective to another.  

As the Chinese daughter of immigrant parents, I thought I would resonate with Tammy's perspective the most, but I actually found that I also related quite a bit to Tony's story as well. In fact, this was one of the areas that made this particular immigrant story different from others — through Tony, we got to hear the immigrant parents' perspective and how the decision to leave their country for a foreign one impacted them.  I appreciated the way this structure gave a fuller, more well-rounded picture of the immigrant struggle, which also made the story more powerful, in my opinion. For me, Tony's story arc was the most moving, but more importantly, it gave me better perspective on my own parents' struggles back in the day and how the decision to immigrate ended up shaping their lives. The chapters told from Oliver's perspective were well-done too, but unsurprisingly, his story arc was one I couldn't relate as much to.

There is so much more I could say about this story, but I think it would have more of an impact experiencing it for one's self.  One thing to note though is that this was a contemplative, reflective story where there was not much action save for a few pivotal scenes — one that unfolded slowly, with particular focus on the characters' thoughts and feelings.  I mention this because a quiet story such as this one, coupled with an unconventional structure and a timeline that jumps around, might not work for everyone, so a heads up just in case.  Overall, this was a solid debut and I look forward to reading more from Luo in the future.

Received ARC from Hanover Square Press via Book Browse First Impressions program.

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: Community Board (by Tara Conklin)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

I read Tara Conklin's previous novel The Last Romantics and absolutely loved it!  That book was so well-written, with characters that were memorable albeit not always likable, an emotional story arc, and a plot that unfolded slowly but still had a good balance of surprising moments that felt both poignant and genuine.  Given the above, it should come as no surprise that, as soon as I found out Conklin would have a new book out this month, I jumped at the chance to read it.  While there were aspects of her new novel, Community Board that appreciated and even enjoyed, I didn't really take to the book overall as much as I did her previous one.  Perhaps my expectations were too high going into this one, which I thought would be in the same vein as The Last Romantics, but of course, turned out to be entirely different.  

The story revolves around main protagonist Darcy Clipper, who, driven by the heartbreak of her husband leaving her for another woman, returns to the small town of Murbridge, Massachusetts where she grew up.  Expecting to be consoled by her parents, she is disappointed to find that they had left on a trip to Arizona without telling her.  Darcy then shuts herself inside her childhood home in a self-imposed period of isolation where she shuns all contact with the outside world and subsists primarily on a diet of Chef Boyardee and chickpeas.  During this solitary period, Darcy spends most of her time alternately feeling sorry for herself, blaming her friends and family for abandoning her, and reading decades-old issues of National Geographicmagazine cover-to-cover.  Her only contact with the outside world, for the most part, is through the community board where the residents of Murbridge post various updates and messages related to their little town.  After a few months, Darcy starts to run out of food and, not wanting to ask her parents for money (because she is still mad at them for not being there to take care of her), she has to find a way to make money, which finally forces her to venture out of the house.  She ends up working for a guy named Marcus Dash-Lagrand, who had just moved into Murbridge with his husband Dan and their 3 sons, and through increased interactions with the family (as well as a handful of others), she slowly emerges from her shell and, more importantly, learns that she can indeed survive on her own.

The format of the story consists of mostly a third-person narrative interspersed with Darcy's emails (ones that she drafts but never sends out and ones that she actually does send) and posts from the Murbridge community board.  I thought this format was interesting and effective — I especially enjoyed the community board posts, which I recognized as being similar to the quirky stuff I typically see on my local neighborhood's community board.  I also liked the humor that permeated much of the story line — sure, some of it was cynical and raunchy and borderline outlandish at times, but for some reason, it worked in this instance (which is saying something because I usually prefer more subtle humor — "slapstick"-type humor is generally a hit or miss for me).

With all that said, what didn't work for me was Darcy's self-imposed isolation and self-absorbed pity party taking up nearly half of the story.  I'm not opposed to characters having to work out their feelings after facing a difficult situation, but the setup here was a bit too excessive in my opinion.  Darcy essentially spends the first half of the story revisiting over and over again everything that is wrong with her life; alternating between blaming her husband (for having an affair), her friends (for abandoning her), and her parents (for coddling her and doing too much for her); and depriving herself of proper sleep, nutrition, and hygiene. At first, I did feel sorry for Darcy, but after having to spend page after page (after page after page) absorbed in her complaints, I started getting increasingly annoyed and frustrated.  Luckily, in the second half of the story, Darcy finally ventures out and allows herself to interact with people in the community, which is when things actually started to get interesting.

Overall, I would say that, while I don't regret reading this one, I wish I hadn't gone into it with such high expectations.  Definitely lesson learned!

Received ARC from Mariner Books via NetGalley.

Review: Hello Beautiful (by Ann Napolitano)

My Rating:  4 stars

Ann Napolitano's newest novel, Hello Beautiful, is an emotional family drama that's billed as an homage to Little Women (though it's not necessary to have read that classic in order to enjoy this one).   At the center of the story is William Waters, a quiet young man who grows up in a home where his parents can't stand the sight of him.  His life is shaped by this lack of love until he meets Julia Padavano, who is attracted to William's steadfastness and simplicity. William is lovingly accepted into the close-knit Padavano family — Julia's parents Charlie and Rose, her second sister Sylvia, twin sisters Cecilia and Emeline — and soon becomes an inextricable part of the fierce loyalty that bonds this family together.  But then things start to happen one after the other that slowly drive a rift into the family and threaten to destroy the long-held unity and loyalty between the 4 sisters.  

This was a slow-burn, character-driven story that really took its time to develop each of the characters in a way that made each one so real and true-to-life. I identified with Sylvie the most, though I couldn't help rooting for all the sisters at various points of the story. One of the unique things that Napolitano did in this story (which I don't often see in other stories) was to make all the male characters just as beloved as the female characters (pretty much the only "hated" characters in the story were William's parents). Charlie played an important role in the story, as did Kent as well as William's other basketball buddies.  I especially loved the friendship between William and Kent, which I found the most moving and heartfelt (so much so that several of their scenes together actually brought tears to my eyes).

I feel that this is one of those books you need to experience for yourself, as it's hard to do justice to the story and the characters in such a brief review. Granted, there were some heavy themes in this one and some parts weren't easy to get through, but ultimately, the story was both poignant and hopeful (though not really sure how I felt about the ending). Given how much I love character-driven stories, the well-drawn character portrayals alone made this one absolutely worth reading.

I've actually had Napolitano's previous novel Dear Edward on my shelf for a while, but have yet to get around to reading it.  Well, now with this exposure to Napolitano's work, I know I will need to make time to read that book as well as explore the rest of her backlist at some point.

Received ARC from Dial Press via NetGalley

 

Review: A Spell of Good Things (by Ayobami Adebayo)

My Rating:  4 stars

Ayobami Adebayo’s debut novel Stay With Me on my TBR for a while, but unfortunately, despite the best of intentions, I never got around to picking it up (classic case of “too many books, too little time”).  Well, a few weeks ago, when an ARC of her second book, A Spell of Good Things, landed in my email box, I was determined that, this time, I will get around to it.  And I am so glad I did because Adebayo’s writing here is amazing — poetic, lyrical, completely immersive and engaging.  I also appreciated getting to learn about Nigeria and a culture that I knew next to nothing about prior to reading this book — though I will admit that the sentences and phrases written in an untranslated Nigerian dialect throughout the book did throw me for a loop in that I had to stop and look stuff up at times in order to fully understand what I was reading.

With that said though, the book’s subject matter is actually quite heavy.   The story revolves around two main characters — a female doctor in her twenties named Wuraola and a teenage boy named Eniola — from two Nigerian families at opposite ends of the economic spectrum (the extremely wealthy vs the devastatingly impoverished, the “haves” vs the “have-nots”) whose paths unexpectedly yet inevitably intertwine, amidst a backdrop of economic strife, political corruption, violence, and tragedy (and that’s just scratching the surface). Even though there were moments of levity (manifested primarily through one of the Wuraola aunties and a few other relatives) interspersed primarily throughout the first half of the story, much of the second half had an undercurrent of bleakness and sadness to it that I actually found difficult to shake even after I had turned the last page.

I don’t want to say too much about this one, as I feel this is the type of story that you have to actually experience for it to be most impactful. What I will say is that this is one of those quiet, slow-burn type stories that takes its time to build up and play out — thoughtfully, meticulously, carefully — then in the last quarter or so of the book, the story suddenly hits you in the gut and you’re left reeling a bit.  For me, I found myself still thinking about that last quarter of the book even long after I had finished reading — I kept playing though different scenarios and wondering, if certain people had acted differently, if some circumstances had been different, would that have changed things in the end?  

While this was not an easy read by any means (especially emotionally), I’m glad I picked it up, as it was a unique, thought-provoking experience that doesn’t come around too often.  I know for sure now that I need to go back and read Adebayo’s debut, sooner rather than later.

Received ARC from Knopf via NetGalley.

Review: Becoming Duchess Goldblatt (by Anonymous)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

Let me say up front that I don't care much for social media.  Yes, I do have accounts on all the major platforms, but I created those more out of necessity than anything else.  I guess you can say that I "tolerate" social media in that I use when it when I have to (for example — to connect with a friend or distant relative or to research or get information on something), but outside of that I rarely post anything and rarely interact with anyone.  For the record, I have nothing against social media itself — it's more that the experience is not for me, as I find the pressure of constantly having to "keep up" with the trends and conversations on there extremely exhausting and stressful, and I basically have neither time nor patience for any of it.

Given the above, it should probably come as no surprise that I had never heard of the fictional Internet personality Duchess Goldblatt prior to reading this book.  In fact, this book probably would never have come onto my radar if one of my book clubs hadn't chosen it as a monthly read.   This is actually a memoir by an anonymous author who writes about how she came to create an alter ego on social media that is so beloved across legions of her devoted fans.  The author encountered a lot of loss and tragedy in her life and in efforts to parse her grief (not to mention the incredible loneliness she felt at the time), she created Duchess Goldblatt on a whim, not expecting the character to attract as much attention as it did.  Indeed, the Duchess can count among her followers many famous names in the literary community, such as Elizabeth McCracken, Alexander Chee, Benjamin Dreyer, Celeste Ng, Laura Lippman, etc.  But for the author, one of the most meaningful experiences that Duchess Goldblatt gave her was the opportunity to develop a close friendship with her real-life long-time idol, singing legend Lyle Lovett.   The author's candid conversations with Lyle (both as herself and as Duchess Goldblatt) were a lot of fun to read and I felt that's one of the things that made this book so special.  

Overall, I found this to be an interesting read.  I appreciated the candor with which the author recounted key moments of her life and the various struggles she went through.  There were parts that I resonated with deeply and wholeheartedly— such as this paragraph where the author's boss calls her into the office to praise her for doing a great job at work:  "Outperforming other people is of no interest to me.  It certainly doesn't motivate me.  If anything, it makes me feel a little guilty. I was raised not to show off, not to be proud, not to draw attention to myself.  I don't like people looking at me or standing too close. Compliments make me uncomfortable.  My greatest childhood dream was to be an author whom everyone would read but no one would look at directly, but I couldn't figure out a way to write books without people knowing my name."  I love this quote because it describes my exact sentiments as well.  I also related to the insecurities and vulnerabilities that the author felt about herself, as I struggled with these at various points in my life as well.  With all that said, the parts I didn't enjoy as much were the quotes and excerpts from the Duchess Goldblatt social media accounts — don't get me wrong, I liked the concept of it and I definitely appreciated the author for creating something that gave so much joy and comfort to so many people, but for me personally, the excerpts were distracting. Basically, I preferred to read about the author herself (this is a memoir after all) more than about her fictional Internet persona.  

Even though this one turned out different than I expected, I'm still glad I read it, as it was a pretty unique experience overall.   Given the author's desire to remain anonymous, I admire her willingness to share her personal story with so many people (I know I wouldn't be able to do it for sure).  I wish her the best of luck!