Review: The Lost Story (by Meg Shaffer)

My Rating: 5 stars

 

I had read Meg Shaffer’s debut The Wishing Game last year and absolutely adored it.  That story was an imaginative, bookish take on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that was both charming and endearing.  This time around, with The Lost Story, Shaffer takes her inspiration from another children’s classic, The Chronicles of Narnia, while also paying tribute to fairy tales and the world of make-believe in the process. 

 

In all honesty, I don’t have words to describe how I felt reading this beautifully written story – one that drew me in from the very first page and I never wanted to end.  This was such a fun, delightful, charming story – truly a fairytale in every way, from its structure (with its storyteller who begins the story with “once upon a time” and ends it with “happily ever after”) to its magical, make-believe world consisting of castles and unicorns, heroes and heroines, knights in shining armor, villains that disappear and reappear in puffs of smoke, animals with the intelligence of humans, huge thousand feet trees with leaves in every color of the rainbow, etc. – yet on the other hand, this was also a very “adult” story that dealt with some very real and difficult issues (such as abuse, discrimination, bullying, for example).  Just like in a fairy tale, there was a deeply profound and meaningful moral lesson buried underneath the fantastical elements, but everything blended together so seamlessly that, at times, it was easy to get lost in the tale itself. There was so much to love with this one:  the characters were wonderfully-rendered and I actually loved all of them (Rafe, Jeremy, Emilie, Skya, as well as all the supporting characters) from the moment I met them within the first few pages, but I especially loved the way the characters interacted with each other; the descriptions of both the real and fantasy worlds were breathtaking and so well done that I definitely felt like I was completely immersed in a different time and place; the humor was also wonderfully done and there were so many scenes that had me laughing so hard, I started getting stomach cramps; most important of all however, was the underlying “lost and found” storyline (especially the one involving Rafe and Jeremy) that was both powerful and moving. 

 

This was no doubt an emotional read for me – a roller coaster ride that had me laughing one minute and crying the next.  At the same time, I also couldn’t help feeling a bit nostalgic and wistful due to all the memories that this brought back from my childhood – as an avid reader, I of course read everything I could get my hands on, but I especially loved fairy tales.  One of my favorite books growing up was a special hardbound edition of Grimm’s Fairy Tales that I had read so much that it eventually fell apart to the point that I was forced to get rid of it (which still pains me when I think about it even now).  The fact that I essentially stopped reading fairy tales after that incident (plus my reading tastes after I became an adult were markedly different from what I used to read as a child), made the nostalgia feel even more poignant.  Getting the chance to revisit this aspect of my childhood through Shaffer’s story was definitely a welcome escape from all the craziness that has been a part of my life in recent months.

I don’t want to say much more about this book because revealing too many details would spoil the magic.  If you loved Shaffer’s debut The Wishing Game as much as I did, definitely pick up this sophomore novel of hers – it’s written in the same vein, yet also vastly different in many aspects.  Even though I ended up loving this one just a tad bit more, both are amazing reads that I highly, highly recommend!

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Briar Club (by Kate Quinn)

 My Rating: 4.5 stars

 

As I continue to work my way through my toppling summer reading TBR, I’ve been trying to prioritize works by my favorite authors first and foremost.  Last week, I finished the latest new release by Liz Moore (which I loved) and this week, it’s Kate Quinn’s turn.  I’ve read and loved most of Quinn’s 20^th century historical novels and her newest work, The Briar Club, is of course no exception.  This time around, Quinn takes on 1950s America at the height of McCarthy’s Red Scare, with both the Korean War as well as the aftermath of WWII playing minor roles in the backgrounds of a few of the characters.  At the center of the story is the Briarwood House, an all-female boardinghouse in Washington D.C., where, on Thanksgiving Day 1954, a murder has just taken place and the police are on-site investigating.  As the police get ready to interview witnesses (of whom there are many – the tenants of the boardinghouse as well as various friends and relatives), we are taken back through the past 4 years leading up to this point, starting from the day that mysterious widow Grace March moves into the closet-like room on the top floor and starts a Thursday night supper club that ends up drawing her eclectic mix of neighbors together.

 

The structure of the story is a unique one – in between a narrative that alternates between the perspectives of each of the characters where we learn their varying backstories, there are short interstitial sections that return us again and again to the present storyline in 1954, each time revealing more clues about the murder currently being investigated.  All these threads converge into an unexpected plot twist in the end that actually had me going back through some of the chapters trying to understand how I missed some of the clues that were staring me in the face. Also, one of the things I found different about this novel compared to Quinn’s previous ones is that the historical elements were more subtle, blended seamlessly into the various characters’ backstories to the point that you kind of have to pay close attention in order to notice them.  In this regard, Quinn’s Author Note – which she deliberately puts at the end of the book because it reveals spoilers from the story – is a must-read, as it provides much of the historical context for both the story as well as the characters.

 

Those who’ve read Quinn’s previous historical novels will notice that she went in a slightly different direction with this one (both story and structure-wise), but one aspect that’s a constant with her works is the focus on strong yet flawed female protagonists and the friendships (as well as rivalries) that are formed as the story progresses.  It is also worth mentioning that the tone of this novel overall is much lighter than that of Quinn’s past works, with some subtle humor interspersed throughout the story that is not usually present in her other novels.  The biggest indication of this, in my opinion, exists in the interstitial sections from the “present” 1954 timeline, which are all told from the perspective of the Briarwood boarding house (yes, you read that right – the house actually narrates those portions of the story) in contrast to the rest of the chapters which are told from the actual characters’ perspectives.  I found this narrative structure quite interesting and in this case, it worked well for the story that Quinn was trying to tell.

 

I definitely enjoyed this one, though admittedly, it’s not my favorite of Quinn’s novels (which has more to do with me than her, as this particular historical setting – 1950s America, specifically Washington D.C. amidst McCarthyism – is one that I’ve never been too keen on).  With that said, the writing is brilliant (as expected), but what blew me away the most is how Quinn wrote her characters – every single character has a distinctive personality as well as a unique backstory to match, yet the way the characters interact with each other when they come together as a group felt so natural.  These are characters that, when I got to the end of the story, I honestly did not want to part with and would’ve absolutely been happy reading more about them -- if Quinn ever decides to continue any of these characters’ stories in future works, I am totally there for it!

 

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: The God of the Woods (by Liz Moore)

 My Rating: 5 stars

With summer in full swing, I’ve been trying to catch up on all the reading I had planned to do, which, admittedly, has not been easy given the many other obligations that I’ve been trying to juggle as well.  Having said that, I’m working through my stack slowly but surely, prioritizing the “must-reads” by favorite authors that I’ve been looking forward to for months.  One of those favorite authors is Liz Moore, whose 2 previous works Long Bright River (2020) and The Unseen World (2016) I had read and loved.  Moore’s newest novel, The God of the Woods, is her most ambitious novel to date and absolutely a brilliantly written masterpiece!

 

This intricately crafted, multi-layered story weaves together several complex threads, told from the perspectives of multiple complicated (and often morally ambiguous) characters, to create a wonderfully nuanced narrative that I honestly could not put down (despite clocking in at nearly 500 pages, I flew through this one in two sittings).  The story begins with a mystery – the disappearance of teenager Barbara Van Laar from a family run summer camp in the Adirondack Mountains (in New York) – but when it is revealed that another Van Laar child had also disappeared from the same family compound 14 years ago (Barbara’s older brother Bear), the possible connection between the two cases leads to a riveting exploration of family dynamics and much, much more.  This is truly a wide-reaching novel that covers many themes and social issues, including family and marriage struggles, parent/child relationships, class disparities and the implications of these differences on the rich vs the poor, gender discrimination, land conservation vs exploitation of nature, coming of age, identity and belonging, abuse and neglect vs caretaking and found family, inequalities within the criminal justice system, etc.  At the same time, there are also historical elements that Moore incorporated into the narrative that aren’t readily apparent without reading the Author’s Note (which I highly recommend). 

 

There is so much to unpack with this story, yet at the same time, it’s not the overly complex type of story where you have to read it several times to understand what it’s trying to say. In addition to the mystery / suspense element being superbly done (at multiple points when I thought I had figured out the ending, turns out I was completely wrong), the atmospheric nature of the writing (to the point that I felt transported back to a different time and place) gave this a historical fiction feel, while the extensive coverage of various contemporary social issues also made the story and characters highly relatable. 

 

One of the things I love about Moore (in addition to her knack for creating memorable characters that I can’t help stop thinking about) is her ability to take a subject that I’m usually not too keen on reading about (i.e. drug addiction/opioid crisis, computer science and technology, environmentalism) and craft such an emotionally compelling story around it that it piques my interest and I find myself wanting to read/learn more about the subject.

 

This brilliant, genre-defying novel is the perfect summer read and one that I highly, highly recommend.  If this is your first-time reading Moore’s novels, this is a great place to start, but definitely go back and read her previous novels as well, if you can (I myself still have to read her first 2 novels, which are on my list to get to at some point).  I can’t wait for what Moore decides to write next – hopefully we’ll hear something soon!

 

Received ARC from Riverhead Books via NetGalley.

Review: Mansfield Park (by Jane Austen)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

Review: Shelterwood (by Lisa Wingate)

 

My Rating: 4 stars

I’ve been quite a bit behind on my leisure reading as of late and while I hope to catch back up as soon as possible, the reality is that it will be a challenge with peak summer reading right around the corner.  In addition to being busy with work and school, a few of my favorite authors actually have books coming out this summer, so it goes without saying that I will definitely be doing some prioritizing over the next couple weeks in order to get to everything. With that said, I’ve been able to squeeze in a May / June new release here and there.  This time around, the book is Shelterwood, the newest release from Before We Were Yours author Lisa Wingate.

When it comes to dual timeline historical fiction, I usually prefer the past timeline over the present one, but this time around, I felt that the present timeline, which took place in 1990, was much more engaging than the one from 1909.  I think this might be because for most of the 1909 narrative, I had no idea where the story was headed – the pace was slower, some parts didn’t feel entirely believable, and few of the scenes seemed a bit too farfetched, a little like drama was being created for drama’s sake.  The 1990 narrative, in comparisons, moved at a much faster pace and I felt more invested in the story (though I noticed these sections were much shorter than the historical narrative, which made the overall pacing much slower than I would have liked).  Having said all that, I like that Wingate brought both timelines together in a way that was meaningful and memorable; in all honesty, that moment when all the pieces started falling into place and I finally understood the historical situation that Wingate was trying to shine a light on was when I truly became engaged in the story – though I wish it hadn’t taken so long (more than half the book) to get there.

I love historical fiction because of the way the genre makes history so interesting and I always learn something, even if I’m already familiar with the subject matter I’m reading about.  In this case, I knew nothing about Oklahoma’s history and the guardian system that indirectly sanctioned the stealing of land from indigenous children, so I appreciated getting to learn about this (though I highly recommend also reading the Author’s Note, as Wingate recounts the history in way more detail and, for me at least, clarified a few aspects of the narrative that didn’t make a lot of sense at first).

Lastly, I wanted to put in a quick mention about the characters.  My favorite stories are the ones with strong, tenacious female protagonists who aren’t afraid to go against the grain – both Ollie (from the past narrative) and Val (from the present narrative) were precisely this kind of protagonist, which I absolutely appreciated.

This one is definitely recommended, though a little bit of patience is needed to reach the payoff at the end.  For me, it was worth it!

 Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

Review: The Return of Ellie Black (by Emiko Jean)

 My Rating: 4 stars

This book came onto my radar because I had read Emiko Jean’s previous contemporary / romance novel Mika in Real Life and loved it.  If Jean’s name sounds familiar, that’s because she also wrote the popular YA series Tokyo Ever After.  Now with The Return of Ellie Black, Jean takes on the mystery / suspense / thriller genre through the case of Elizabeth Black, a missing girl who reappears out of the blue after disappearing without a trace two years ago from a town in Washington.  Ellie’s case is being handled by Detective Chelsey Calhoun, a small-town cop whose passion for solving missing person cases stems from her own sister’s disappearance 20 years ago.  Chelsey sets about investigating what happened to Ellie, but the task proves to be more difficult than anticipated due to Ellie’s refusal to cooperate.  When links to other missing girls start to surface -- some of whom, like Ellie, might still be alive – the urgency to solve the case reaches fever pitch.  But with Ellie not cooperating, will Chelsey crack the case in time to prevent other girls from being taken as well?

This is a story that surprised me in many ways.  First (and most important) is the fact that this is definitely NOT another one of those run-of-the-mill thrillers with a helpless (and usually stereotypically drawn) female protagonist at its center who is eventually saved by some guy in uniform (and maybe they live happily ever after if a romantic attraction is thrown in there somewhere).  Instead, this story deals with many real-life issues that we continue to face in our society on a daily basis -- toxic relationships, discrimination of all types (i.e. race, gender, class), misogyny, racism, dysfunctional families, police corruption, class distinctions (i.e. rich versus poor), etc. – in a way that gave the story depth (which meant that, at times, I forgot that I was reading a thriller).  The narrative alternates between the third person perspective (where we get to “hear from” various characters in the story, though mostly from Chelsey) interspersed with a first person “confession” of sorts from Ellie herself, where she recounts in detail everything that happened to her.  For me, this type of narrative (alternating between different voices) can be a bit of a hit or miss, but in this instance, it was done in a way that made sense and also didn’t feel jarring.  In terms of the plot, this one was particularly well done in the sense that I was truly kept at edge of my seat and most significantly, I actually didn’t see any of the twists and turns coming.  I mention this because I’ve read my fair share of mysteries / thrillers over the years where I’m usually able to figure everything out by the halfway point, but that was definitely not the case here – I was genuinely surprised by how things turned out, not to mention all my guesses ended up being wrong (not a bad thing at all when it comes to thrillers). 

Having said all that though, what I loved most about this book was the main protagonist (Detective Chelsey Calhoun).  It’s not lost on me how rare it is to have the main character of a mainstream mystery (thriller/suspense) novel be a strong, smart, competent, kick-ass, no nonsense cop who is both female and Asian (full Japanese, not mixed race).  And yes, it is Chelsey (as the lead detective on the case) who “saves the day” throughout the story, including at the end (I’m proud to admit that I cheered each time Chelsey triumphed, lol).  Most importantly though, Chelsey came across as a real-life person – someone who has her own vulnerabilities and insecurities (especially in her personal relationships) while also having to deal with the realities that come with being female and Asian in a cut-throat profession where she has to fight like hell to prove herself every step of the way.

Emiko Jean is an author whom I’m glad to have discovered and whose backlist I’m happy to explore.  I admire authors who are able to write across multiple genres and so far, based on what I’ve read of her work, Jean seems to have talent in this area.  I hope to read more of her work soon.

Received ARC from Simon & Schuster via NetGalley.

 

Review: The House on Biscayne Bay (by Chanel Cleeton)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

In her latest work, Chanel Cleeton tackles the gothic theme by centering her dual timeline story around Marbrisa, a glamorous mansion built in Miami, Florida right after the Great War. The over-the-top mansion is a gift that Robert Barnes surprises his wife with for her birthday, but during the inaugural party to celebrate the estate's completion, tragedy strikes and their lives are changed forever.  More than 20 years later, Carmen Acosta has no place to go after the tragic death of her parents in an accident, so she moves into the Marbrisa, the mansion that is currently home to her sister Carolina and her rich husband Asher Wyatt.  Prior to her arrival though, strange things were already happening at the mansion but things escalate soon after, to the point where Carmen's life is in danger.  Is Marbrisa cursed and haunted like people believe it is?  Or are the strange events the result of something more sinister?  

Overall, Cleeton's latest foray into Gothic fiction was entertaining, but I enjoyed her previous works more.  While the writing was good (as expected), the plot was way too predictable, to the point that I already had everything figured out less than halfway through the story, which of course took the "suspense" out of things (not to mention some loose ends never got explained, which created a few plot holes here and there).  The other issue I had was the narrative structure: the story was told in a dual timeline structure, with each time timeline narrated from the first person perspective of its respective protagonist— Anna in 1918 and Carmen in 1941.  The two protagonists couldn't have been more different in terms of age, race, life experiences, circumstances, etc., yet at times, I found it difficult to tell the two narrative voices apart and had to go back to check the chapter heading to remind myself which timeline I was reading.  This got a bit tiring after awhile, though it wasn't to the extent where it prevented me from moving through the story at a decent pace.

As I mentioned earlier, I did enjoy this one, but I have to admit that I was a little bummed that the story this time around had no connection to the Perez family (though I shouldn't have been surprised, since this book and her Cleeton's previous one were both standalone). With that said, there was an indirect link to one of Cleeton's previous novels — a "blink and you'll miss it" reference that I totally missed and only found out about after reading the Author's Note.

Even though I didn't take to this one as much as I thought I would, Cleeton continues to be one of those "go-to" authors for me whose works I will continue to read regardless (though I do hope she writes another book with a Perez family connection at some point).

Received ARC from Berkeley via NetGalley.

Review: The Twilight Garden (by Sara Nisha Adams)

My Rating: 4 stars

I had read Sara Nisha Adams's debut novel The Reading List for book club over a year ago and really enjoyed it.  During the author talk for that book, Adams mentioned that her next book would be about a community with a shared garden, which of course, turned out to be this book, her sophomore novel entitled The Twilight Garden. While I have to admit that I enjoyed her debut much more, I still found quite a few things that I liked with this new book, with the first and foremost of those being the characters.  I couldn't help loving the entire Stoke Newington community and all its interesting residents — it felt like it would be a dream to live among them and to be able to share in such a beautiful garden (though minus the foxes please).

Told in somewhat of a dual timeline format (though also divided into 4 parts based on the seasons), the story alternates between the perspectives of Winston and Bernice starting in 2018 — the neighbors live in Numbers 77 and 79 in a townhouse complex on Eastbourne Road (in Stoke Newington, London).  The two houses have a garden that is shared among them (a non-negotiable written into the housing contract).  The garden is in a state of disrepair after being neglected for years, which might as well be fine since the two neighbors can't seem to get along anyway and are constantly arguing with each other.  Winston is an immigrant from India who came to London hoping to fulfill his parents' dream for him to be successful and happy, but instead, he quit his steady job in finance and works instead for his neighbors Sal and Angela in their shop (though they treat him lovingly, like their own son); on top of that, Winston's relationship with his partner Lewis is on shaky ground.  At the same time, he is forced to deal with his bossy new neighbor, Bernice, who just moved into the house next door with her 10 year old son Sebastian, finally on her own after separating from her ex-husband Simon.  The two neighbors seem to be at odds from the start, arguing over everything under sun, but especially over the shared garden;  one day, when Bernice tells Winston off and tries to claim the garden for herself, he decides to start clearing the garden and tending to it out of defiance.  Bernice's son Seb slowly gets to know Winston and soon enough, he is helping his new friend in the garden (much to Bernice's chagrin).  Over the course of a couple months, as Bernice joins her son in helping out with the garden, she begins to understand Winston better and they eventually become friends. Interspersed throughout the Winston-Bernice storyline is a narrative that flashes back to 40 plus years prior, starting in the 1970s, with the story of Maya and Alma, who were the previous residents of Numbers 77 and 79. Maya and her husband Prem are also of Indian descent, but arrived to London from Kenya, where most of their family still reside.  Alma is an interesting character — someone whom all the residents love and fear at the same time. Maya and Alma — two women with such opposite personalities (and also from vastly different backgrounds) become fast friends and even turn their shared garden into a community garden where all their friends and neighbors frequently gathered.  One of the things I really appreciated about this structure was how some of the characters ended up appearing in both narratives, which meant that we got to see them evolve and grow — as a reader who loves character-driven stories, I'm always game for watching characters develop and evolve throughout a story (even though this one was done nonlinearly).

This heartwarming read about friendship and community also had a poignancy to it that I wasn't quite expecting — to the point that I found myself feeling a lump in my throat at certain parts.  Though perhaps I should not have been surprised, given that the overall tone of this second novel is in a similar vein to The Reading List (which was especially poignant and moving).  While this is a book I definitely recommend, I do have to warn that it is very much a "slow-burn" type of story where there is not much of a plot to speak of and nothing "exciting" (depending on one's definition of course) ever really happens.  And those who aren't into gardening might find the detailed descriptions of various plants and flowers and gardening activities a tad less interesting (though thankfully, Adams incorporated these details in a way that wasn't overwhelming).  

Overall, I enjoyed this one for what it was — a moving, emotionally resonant story with endearing, lovable characters (no villains in this story, which is refreshing…oh except maybe the foxes?)  doing everyday things and dealing with everyday issues.  The narrative does meander a bit though, especially in the middle section (the book overall probably didn't need to be as long as it was), but luckily it didn't lose me. I'm definitely looking forward to what Sara Nisha Adams writes next!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: Only the Beautiful (by Susan Meissner)

  

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I’ve had Susan Meissner’s books on my TBR for quite some time, but it wasn’t until recently that I got the chance to read one of her books – and the most recent one at that!  Meissner’s latest Only the Beautiful is one of those books that has so much of what I look for in a truly excellent read:  a genre I love (historical fiction), a beautifully well-written and engrossing narrative, well-developed characters whom I could relate to and root for, meticulously researched elements incorporated seamlessly into the story, and a thought-provoking story arc with emotional depth that continues to stay with me long after I finish reading the book. 

With all that said, I have to admit that I was a bit hesitant to pick this one up at first, mostly because of the WWII setting, as I had read too many books with this setting in recent years and felt like I needed a break – but since I had agreed to read and review this one, I of course followed through with it and am glad I did, as this turned out to be a very different story from what I expected.  Rosie’s story in part 1 was truly heartbreaking and in all honesty, left me speechless, especially as I had no idea that eugenics was being practiced in the United States throughout much of the 20^th century (nor did I know that there were actually laws that supported the practice).  I was also shocked to find out that the state of California (where I grew up and lived my entire life) was the site of the highest number of forced sterilizations in the nation up until the 1960s.  As heartbreaking as part 1 was though, Helen’s story in part 2 was even more so, especially as the parallels between what the Nazis were doing in Europe and what people in positions of power were doing in the United States became terrifyingly clear.

Reading about this history, I could not help but think about all the terrible decisions being made in our country in recent years that attempt to take away our right to choose what is best for ourselves.  As Rosie and Helen both ask at various points in the story:  Why do those in a position of strength get to decide what the best looks like?  Why is it that only the strong get to define what weakness is?  What gives those in power the right to decide who is worthy to be a mother or a father and who is not?  Who gets to decide that living with a disability means that life is not worth living?

There was so much in this book that was difficult to read about, yet I would still highly recommend it as a necessary as well as illuminating read. Books like this one remind me yet again how important it is to understand the connection between history and what is happening in our world currently, as well as how these things can impact our lives in ways both profound and subtle. 

As I await the next book from Meissner, I definitely need to go back and read her other books on my TBR (starting with the ones which I already have physical copies, of course).  Looking forward to more wonderful reads from her backlist!

Received print edition from Berkley via Bookbrowse.

Review: Real Americans (by Rachel Khong)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

I just finished a major project for class, so I'm hoping to have some time for catching up on my leisure reading over the next couple weeks. I decided to pick up Rachel Khong's Real Americans next because of an author talk I plan to attend (which I'm very much looking forward to!).  

I will start off by saying that, admittedly, this was one of those books that I found a little bit hard to parse at times, mostly because of the "science" element — which, even though it remains largely in the background throughout most of the story, it does play a pretty significant role in advancing parts of the plot. That said however, I feel that the way Khong structured the story is brilliant — there are 3 parts to the story, each told from the first person perspective of 3 different characters: Lily in 1999, Nick in 2021, and Mei in 2030. All 3 voices felt distinct to me, which is an admirable feat, no doubt, given how different it is to pull off.  The first part of the story, told from Lily's perspective, reads like a romance, as it is the love story of how Lily — the daughter of Chinese immigrants who struggles to make sense of her life working a dead-end job that she's not even getting paid for — meets Matthew, the rich heir of a pharmaceutical conglomerate -a and how they ultimately fall in love and start a family together.  Part 2 fast forwards 22 years later — Lily and Matthew are separated and Lily is raising their son Nick, who is 15 years old, alone in a remote part of Washington.  Told from Nick's perspective, this part feels like a coming of age story, as Nick (who, though biracial, looks more like his father than his mother) struggles to come to terms with his own identity as well as that of his estranged father, whom his mother refuses to tell him anything about.  Part 3 takes place 9 years later, in 2030, but actually provides the backstory that explains many of the things that happened in parts 1 and 2.  This last section (which reads like historical fiction) is told from the perspective of Lily's mother Mei, as she recounts what her life was like growing up in China in the 1960s, at the height of the country's Cultural Revolution, and how she ended up fleeing to America.  What I found interesting about this structure is that all 3 parts, at times, read like 3 different stories (albeit with the same characters), and interestingly enough, the 3 timelines never truly converge like most multiple timeline stories do, yet the overarching story as a whole never felt disjointed.  As I was reading, I was continually engaged with the story, even though oftentimes, not a whole lot was actually happening plot-wise.  All the characters in here were also well-drawn, realistic, and relatable — especially the 3 characters who narrate the story.  

Another interesting thing to note with this story is that it's not one of those stories that ties everything up neatly (and not just the ending). There are gaps in all 3 timelines that are never fully explained, yet the story still feels complete somehow (not sure how to explain this properly but I think those who've read this will know what I mean).  

Overall, this was an engrossing read that I absolutely recommend.  The story itself is definitely the slow burn type — quiet, subtle, and rarely makes any major waves — yet it also never felt boring to me (case in point, I read this in 2 days because I couldn't bring myself to put it down).  Part of this was due to Khong's writing, which the blurb to the book already describes perfectly as "moving" and "immersive."  I haven't yet read Khong's debut novel Goodbye, Vitamin, but given how much I enjoyed this new one, I will definitely have to go back and read that one.

Received ARC from Knopf via NetGalley.