Review: Meditations for Mortals (by Oliver Burkeman)

 My Rating: 4 stars

When it comes to books that fall into the “self-help” category, I’ve never been much of a fan, as I find a majority of these books are “overly-preachy” in tone and oftentimes also employ aggressive-sounding language that essentially tries to shame the reader into following the advice at hand.  I’ve always been picky with books, but given this particular pet peeve of mine, I tend to be even more careful when choosing self-help books to read.  Two years ago, I came across Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks and upon the recommendation of trusted book friends (who obviously understood my wariness toward self-help books), I read the book and really enjoyed it.  One of the things I liked most about that book was how Burkeman presented advice regarding time management and productivity (among other things) that largely ran counter to the advice traditionally presented in business books.  As I wrote in my review of that book, Burkeman essentially takes the advice that those time management books preach – the idea of “making more time to get more done” – and throws it out the window.  Instead, his message is that since time is finite and most humans are only on this earth for an average of four thousand weeks, it is realistically impossible to get every single thing that we want to do done – so instead of obsessing over how to cram more “to do” stuff into a short time span, it’s better to just make the conscious decision to do what matters most in the moment and accept the consequences (good or bad) of that choice. 

 

Burkeman’s follow-up to that book is Meditations for Mortals, which came out back in September.  In this much slimmer book, Burkeman takes the concepts from Four Thousand Weeks and breaks them down into “mediations” across 28 days (4 weeks), with the focus specifically on how to embrace our limitations (or “imperfectionism” as Burkeman puts it) and make those choices that matter.  Burkeman wrote the book in a flexible manner where it can either be read all the way through in one or two sittings, or taken in bite-size morsels over a 4 week period (even though I chose to read the book all in one sitting, I appreciate the flexibility that this format provides).

 

Overall, I actually enjoyed this book more than his previous one, probably because I felt it was more accessible, both content-wise and format-wise.  Four Thousand Weeks was a good book, but as I mentioned in my review, it waxed a bit too philosophical in some parts, rendering some of the content a little too abstract.  This follow-up is less philosophical and more practical, which made the content easier to digest and remember.  The format also makes it easier to go back and re-read particular sections that may be more relevant and applicable than others.

 

For those who already read Four Thousand Weeks, I highly recommend reading this follow-up, as it synthesizes some of the concepts from there and, in my opinion, enhances that book.  If you haven’t read that book yet, I would say no need to go back – just read this one instead.

Review: Dreaming in Cuban (by Cristina Garcia)

 My Rating: 4 stars

The past few months have been a bit of a crazy, chaotic whirlwind for me and while I’ve continued to do tons of reading, I’ve unfortunately been less diligent with the review side of things (mostly due to lack of time) – which is why I’m grateful to have a couple weeks off now and in December so I can finally catch up, both on the backlogged reviews that I didn’t get a chance to write as well as on the teetering stack of books that I have not gotten around to reading yet (the stack is literally inches away, right next to my keyboard, threatening to topple over as I type this).

 

One of the books I finished earlier in the month is Cuban American author Cristina Garcia’s debut novel Dreaming in Cuban, which came out back in 1992.  I picked this one up because it was assigned reading for one of my classes, which of course made me skeptical about whether this would be a tedious read and whether I would actually enjoy it. 

 

The story revolves around three generations of the del Pino family and the devastating impact that the Cuban revolution has on them.  The narrative alternates between the perspectives of Celia (the matriarch of the del Pino family who still lives in Cuba), Lourdes (one of Celia’s three children who flees with her husband to the U.S. at the height of the Cuban revolution), and Pilar (Lourdes’s daughter who is caught between two the American world she lives in and the Cuban world of her heritage).  In addition to the interesting format that the story is told in (a combination of third person, first person, and epistolary), there are also magical realism elements sprinkled throughout the narrative, though not in a heavy-handed manner (which I was glad to see because magical realism can be a hit or miss for me). 

 

This is one of those novels that has a complex plot involving multiple characters (I’m grateful for the character chart that Garcia includes at the beginning of the book) with a deeply profound underlying message that takes a little bit of patience to get to. 

 

Overall, I wouldn’t say that I “enjoyed” the book, as there was a lot of hard stuff in this one that had to be parsed through, but I definitely liked and appreciated it, especially for the unique insight it provided into the Cuban American experience.  I would say that if this is a perspective that interests you, this one is well worth picking up, though be aware that trigger warnings abound.

Review: Between the World and Me (by Ta-Nehisi Coates)

 

My Rating: 5 stars

Browsing through my book news emails a couple weeks ago, I kept coming across reviews for Ta-Nehisi Coates’s newest book The Message (which I have not yet read but definitely want to) and it reminded me that I’ve had his award-winning masterpiece Between the World and Me on my TBR forever, but never got around to reading it.  Well, recently, I had the chance to pick this one up and I have to say, I was absolutely blown away.  In this book-length autobiographical essay, which is written in the format of a letter to his teenage son Samori, Coates shares his struggles growing up as a black man in America.  In meticulous, beautiful prose, Coates presents the harsh realities of America’s deeply ingrained attitudes toward race, placing it within the context of our country’s fraught history and the implications it has had (and continues to have) on society.  Coates does not mince words – he is searingly honest about the “American plunder” and how the nation was built on the backs of colored bodies.  At the same time, this essay can also be read as a father’s passionate (and desperate) plea for his son’s continued survival navigating a system where the odds are perpetually stacked against him.

In her endorsement of Between the World and Me back when it came out in 2015, the late, great Toni Morrison not only called the book “required reading,” she also praised Coates as essentially the heir-apparent to James Baldwin’s legacy: “I’ve been wondering who might fill the intellectual void that plagued me after James Baldwin died. Clearly it is Ta-Nehisi Coates.”  Indeed, a close reading of Coates’s book shows the numerous ways in which he pays respectful homage to Baldwin, from the epistolary format in which he frames his personal narrative (which is a nod to Baldwin’s famous letter to his nephew in his seminal essay collection The Fire Next Time) to the writing style, phrasing of words, narrative voice, and most significantly, emotional resonance.

This is a profound and powerful book – a modern classic that is absolutely a “must-read” for all Americans.  At once a gut-punch and a wake-up call, this book is not an easy read by any means, but it is a necessary read as well as a timely one (especially given the events of the last few days). Highly, highly recommended!

 

Review: Like Mother, Like Mother (by Susan Rieger)

My Rating: 3 stars

This book was a bit of a mixed bag for me. While I did enjoy some aspects of it – for instance, some of the sardonic humor – I didn’t really like majority of the characters (except for Ruth, who was pretty much the only character I was able to connect with).  I had initially picked this one up because I thought the premise was interesting, for one, and two, stories about mother-daughter relationships (especially multigenerational ones) are very much up my alley – given both these factors, I definitely thought I would take to this one more than I did.  Overall, I found this book a bit difficult to get into, which is probably why it took me so long to finish it – I kept putting it down after several pages and didn’t really feel compelled to get back to it (though I forced myself to finish this weekend so I could move on to the rest of my teetering TBR pile).  Perhaps because I couldn’t relate to most of the characters, or maybe because the plot revolved too heavily around politics (a topic I hate discussing in real life, let alone reading about in books), I just felt like this was a tedious read from beginning to end. The ending was also predictable as well, which wouldn’t really be a problem given that this technically wasn’t a mystery / suspense novel anyway, but it did make me wonder what the point of the story was, especially with some of the characters being so unlikeable.

In any case, I don’t regret reading this one, since, as I mentioned earlier, I did enjoy some parts of it, but unfortunately, the “dislikes’ outweigh the “likes” in this case, plus the timing was bad. I would actually recommend that if you do decide to pick this one up, probably do it after the election, especially if you’re the type (like me) whose anxiety is through the roof right now just thinking about the state of our country and the political implications depending on the outcome...

Received ARC from Dial Press via NetGalley.

 

 

Review: The Sequel (by Jean Hanff Korelitz)

My Rating: 4 stars

 

Given how much I loved Jean Hanff Korelitz’s literary thriller The Plot, it should come as no surprise that when I heard Korelitz had written a sequel to that book – aptly titled The Sequel – I was dying to read it (pun intended, lol).  The Plot was a book that blew me away – clever, creative, and so masterfully done, with an ending that was wholly unexpected (but made sense given the clues hidden throughout the story).  It was so well done, in fact, that I initially couldn’t help but wonder whether a sequel would be able to live up to the original (even Korelitz gives a shout out to this common cultural sentiment when one of her characters in The Sequel states that “they’re never as good as the first book, are they?”).  Well, it seems that the jury is still out with this one, as there seem to be varying reactions to it from what I can see – some readers feel the second book is better while others feel the original is still the best; for me personally, I would have to say that I fall into the second camp.  While I did enjoy this one and found it to be every bit as clever as the first book (I absolutely loved the way Korelitz named each chapter the title of a real-life literary sequel, as half the fun of reading this book, for me at least, was figuring out which book the sequel title belonged to), I also felt that it was not as tightly-written as the first book was and much less “suspenseful” in comparison. 

 

Before I go any further, I have to say this: despite what people may say about it being fine to read this one as a standalone, I actually feel it is absolutely necessary to read The Plot first, for multiple reasons.  First and foremost is the fact that this book starts off where the first one ended; second, much of the story expands upon many of the plot points from the first book, particularly as it pertains to Anna’s background; third, many of the characters from the first book also show up again, with a few featuring heavily in the storyline this time around; and fourth, there are a few points in the book where the big “twists” from the first book are mentioned.  So basically, if you have not read The Plot but try to read The Sequel, you will either be completely lost with the storyline or you will encounter so many “spoilers” from the first book that there’s no point going back to read it anymore.  To be honest, even reading the “blurb” on the jacket of the sequel is not a good idea if you haven’t read the first book, since there are some references to plot points in that story that, in my opinion, can be “spoiler-ish.”

 

In any case, with that out of the way – as I mentioned earlier, I feel that this book was enjoyable but the original was definitely better. I think part of the reason why I feel this way is because The Plot was unique enough on its own, from all aspects, whether storyline, characters, format (the “story within the story” concept was particularly well-done), tone, voice, flow, etc. – it all came together brilliantly.  With The Sequel, I feel that Korelitz was trying to rehash essentially all the same elements, except this time around, with Anna as the protagonist instead of Jacob (for obvious reasons).  This gave me a little bit of a “been there, done that” vibe for one, and two, it made the storyline a lot more predictable – case in point: with a few minor exceptions, the first book largely had me guessing as to the direction that Korelitz was going to take and I was genuinely shocked with ending; with this book, I already had everything figured out midway through the story and not only that, I ended up being exactly on-the-dot in terms of the ending.

 

I also have to say that I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Anna being the protagonist in this story given all the horrible things she did (and continues to do). The blurb on the jacket states that with The Sequel, Korelitz “gives readers an antihero to root for” – well, this wasn’t really a true statement for me because with Anna, I honestly did not see anything worth rooting for (though I understood Anna’s motivations, I still found her behavior and actions beyond appalling).  But I guess this is more a case of “it’s me, not the book,” since I’m not really a fan of diabolic, villain characters as protagonists.

 

Overall, this was a worthwhile read, especially if you’ve already read The Plot, as this story fills in nearly all of the gaps that were left open-ended from the first book (and it’s definitely a thrill to be able to recognize a character or plot point from the first book and wonder what the implications will be for the new protagonist who wasn’t involved in the interaction the first time around).  As for whether I would read a third book (if there were to be one – which, all indication so far is that there might be), probably yes, but definitely with less anticipatory excitement, especially if Anna is also going to be the protagonist the third go around.

 

Received ARC from Celadon Books via NetGalley.

 

Review: Here One Moment (by Liane Moriarty)

My Rating: 4 stars

It’s been awhile since I’ve read a Liane Moriarty book, but I remember enjoying the ones I read in the past, so I was definitely excited going into this one. To be honest, given the premise of this book, there really isn’t a whole lot I can say that won’t give something away, so I will keep this review short and sweet.

 

Overall, I enjoyed this one well enough – it was entertaining and I liked how the chapters were short and easy to get through, which was definitely helpful given how long this book ended up being as a whole (my hardcover version was 500 pages). I especially loved the first half of the book where Moriarty essentially skewers the airline industry, poking fun at the idiosyncrasies of what we experience at airports and while flying – specifically, the way she depicted how people behave on airplanes was spot on and absolutely hilarious (I was nodding my head through practically every page, lol).  Once all the passengers got off the plane though and went back to living their lives – basically, once the “mystery” element kicked in -- where we start to see whether the predictions on the plane would actually materialize, the story became less funny and more serious, which was fine (this IS a mystery/thriller after all), but then some parts of the story felt like it started to drag a little – the jokes didn’t land as well and some details felt a bit irrelevant.  Like other readers, I also felt the book was too long and some chapters were likely unnecessary, but as the events unfolded in the second half of the book, I will say that I did learn a thing or two about some professions that I had never heard about before (if you’ve read the book, you probably will know what I mean and understand why I have to be purposefully vague here) – which, as a lifelong learner, is always a satisfying experience for me when I read.

 

In terms of the ending, I honestly don’t know how I feel about it.  I know some readers hated it but I didn’t have any strong feelings either way – mostly, I just felt that the ending was a bit anticlimactic for a mystery/thriller novel.  Part of this could also be that I don’t think I truly “got” the ending anyway, so I don’t want to comment too much on it, since it could just be lack of understanding on my part.

 

In any case, this was an entertaining, fun read that sufficiently distracted me from all the busy chaos in my life at the moment, not to mention a nice departure from all the “heavy” stuff I’ve been reading for school lately.  As we come up against the end of the year and hopefully the chaos starts to die down (as it usually does around the holidays, at least for me), I am able to fit more of the books that have been on my list to read this year but I haven’t been able to get to (especially ones by my favorite authors, several of whom have books out this year). Looking forward to more entertaining reads! 

Review: Tell Me Everything (by Elizabeth Strout)

My Rating: 4 stars 

I’ve been in a bit of a weird reading slump lately.  I use the word “weird” because even though I’ve actually been reading – quite a bit, to be honest – I’ve been finding it difficult to “get into” what I read.  I guess the best way to put it is that I’ve been finding it hard to focus – essentially, I would read a paragraph, a page even, but then a few seconds later, I would have no idea what I just read, so I would go back and re-read.  The result is that it is taking me way longer than usual to finish a book, which is definitely not good considering the number of books on my list that I still need to get to.  Given that I’ve been super busy with both work and school (and family) the past few months especially, I suspect that I might just be burned out from everything I have going on.  Hopefully, as things start to wind down in the next few months and I am finally able to squeeze in some much-needed vacation time to recharge, I will be able to get my reading life back on track.  In the meantime, I will just need to push through the best I can.

 

One of the books I read during this time is Elizabeth Strout’s newest novel Tell Me Everything.  Strout is one of my favorite authors, so I’ve been looking forward to this one for quite some time.  While I did enjoy this one overall, I will admit to having a hard time getting into it for at least the first third of the novel.  I did eventually find my rhythm however, and I’m glad I did, since two of my favorite characters from the Elizabeth Strout universe – Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton -- finally meet and interact in this novel. Since the previous few Strout novels have been about Lucy, I was honestly beginning to miss Olive, so I was delighted to see that she has a significant presence in this novel (she is now 91 years old and living in a center for seniors, but she is the same old Olive – as sharp and loveably acerbic as ever!).  Lucy is introduced to Olive by Bob Burgess (yes, the same Bob from The Burgess Boys) and the two end up meeting frequently to share stories with each other. Given how opposite the two ladies are from each other personality-wise, of course there would be inevitable clashes (actually, after their first interaction, which, let’s just say didn’t go exceptionally well, I thought the two of them meeting would only be a one-time deal) – luckily for me, they continued to meet throughout the rest of the novel, so I got to enjoy their interactions to the end.  Overall though, this story is actually about Bob, the semi-retired lawyer who takes on the case of Matt Beach, a local man accused of killing his own mother.  At the end of the day though, the “mystery” element takes a back seat to the main goal of the story, which is to catch up with this eclectic community of Crosby and Shirley Falls residents as they go about their normal lives. 

 

I don’t want to give too much away (though, honestly, there really is not much to give away in the first place, since Strout’s novels famously focus on character rather than plot so not a whole lot happens anyway), but one thing I will say is that if you’re a Strout fan who has read all of her novels, then this is definitely a must-read, as she brings back pretty much all of the characters from her previous 9 novels (Oprah’s website has a nifty chart that illustrates which characters show up in which novels – the final count is that 23 of the 25 characters from Strout’s universe are in this new novel, which is wild!). 

 

Personally, since I’ve only read the Olive Kitteridge and Lucy Barton novels, the scenes with the other characters didn’t have as much meaning for me (which is why I rated this 4 stars instead of the 5 stars that I usually give Strout’s books), but that’s okay, as Strout’s writing is as masterful as ever, so this was still a treat to read.  In one of her author interviews, Strout was asked whether she will revisit these characters again – she responded that it’s hard to say, as it depends on whether the opportunity presents itself again (she said she wasn’t intending on writing another novel with these same characters at first, but she realized after her last novel that all the primary characters – Olive, Lucy and William, Bob and Margaret, etc. -- happened to be living in close proximity to each other now, so it just made sense to have them all interact).  Strout mentioned that the next novel she is working on so far has brand new characters, but it’s still in early stages, so we’ll see.  Whatever the case, I know I will definitely be keeping an eye out for whatever Strout decides to come out with next, regardless of which characters are in it!

 

Received ARC from Random House via NetGalley.

Review: And the Mountains Echoed (by Khaled Hosseini)

My Rating: 5 stars

Don’t expect his review to be a long one because I honestly don’t have the words to describe how I felt reading this beautifully written book. From the moment I read the interesting first line – “So, then. You want a story and I will tell you one. But just the one…” – I was preparing myself for an absorbing story, but I didn’t anticipate how truly exquisite the experience would be. Khaled Hosseini is indeed a masterful storyteller, but this novel also proves that he is a masterful writer as well.  Unlike his previous 2 novels, Hosseini employs a unique structure this time around in the form of a series of interlinked stories across nine chapters, each narrated from the perspective of a different character.  The format is nonlinear, with the narrative jumping back and forth between various settings (from Afghanistan to Paris to California to the Greek island of Tinos) and timelines (1940s through 2010).  Each chapter comes across vignette-like, where we get a glimpse into the life of each individual character, some of whom narrate their own stories in first person, while others are told in third person, with one chapter that is completely epistolary.  On the surface, it may not be readily apparent how each character’s story correlates with the other, but once I got to the end of the book, I couldn’t help but marvel at Hosseini’s genius in structuring the narrative this way.  Interconnectedness is a huge theme in the novel and Hosseini demonstrates this in multiple ways – through the plot and story, through the characters, and especially through the narrative’s structure.

 

Emotionally, this was one of those books that was simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting -- to the point that I lost count of how many times the story and its characters broke my heart and then put it back together again. There were many moving and poignant moments that triggered a jumble of different emotions – sadness, anger, confusion, awe, wonder, surprise, relief, dread, hope, etc. (just to name a few).  Hosseini presents humanity and all its emotional complexities in such a realistic (yet not overwhelming) way that you get the sense he truly understands human nature -- the ‘good, bad, and ugly’ that resides in all of us.  The story is filled with flawed characters who find themselves in various morally and ethically ambiguous dilemmas – much life we would in real life – yet through it all, and despite the poor decisions that some of them make, I felt like I understood where they were coming from and so I couldn’t help wanting to root for all of them (with the exception of one or two characters).  This is illustrated best through the words of one of the story’s most prominent characters, Dr. Markos, a Greek plastic surgeon who dedicates many years of his life providing care to those in Afghanistan who sustained physical injuries and deformities from the violence and fighting: “If I've learned anything in Kabul, it is that human behaviour is messy and unpredictable and unconcerned with convenient symmetries.”

 

I’ve had Khaled Hosseini on my list of “must-read” authors for years (on the advice of multiple trusted reader friends who are huge fans of his works) and actually have all 3 of his novels sitting on my shelf, but regretfully, I hadn’t been able to get to his works until now. I started with And the Mountains Echoed first because that is the novel I’m studying in my Literature class, but I hope to also read his two previous (and even more famous) novels at some point as well.

 

Review: Viewfinder (by Jon M. Chu)

My Rating: 4 stars

I’m not usually much of a fan of celebrity memoirs, but Jon M. Chu’s memoir Viewfinder is one that I’ve been looking forward to since it was announced.  Seeing that “Crazy Rich Asians” was (and still is) one of my favorite movies, plus we share a similar background in that we both came from Chinese immigrant families and grew up/lived/went to school/worked in Southern California, I was really interested in learning more about Chu’s journey (outside of what I was able to glean through interviews during the CRA promos) and his experiences breaking into an industry that has traditionally been less than welcoming to Asians.  Much of what Chu talks about in the book resonated with me deeply, especially his struggle reconciling the two sides of his identity – Asian and American – and the various successes as well as failures that contributed to the person he chose to become:  one who learns to embrace both sides of his identity, in both life and work.

Of course, being a fan of CRA, my favorite part of the memoir was the chapter where Chu goes into detail about his experiences making the movie.  Even though I already knew a lot of the behind-the-scenes stuff related to the movie (of course I don’t call myself a “fan” for nothing, lol), what I didn’t know was how much the movie reflected Chu’s personal journey as a Chinese American trying to come to terms with his cultural identity.  As such, there were many details that he added from his own life as well as from the lives of his family members that weren’t in the book – as a purist, I’m usually wary about adaptations that stray too far from the book, but in this case, the many personal touches that Chu added to the movie version worked wonderfully  (to the point that – and you won’t hear me say this often – this was one of those extremely rare cases where the movie was actually better than the book).  What I found most interesting in reading this memoir is that many of my favorite scenes from the movie (“favorite” because those scenes resonated with me the most) were actually the ones that Chu added from his personal background:  for example, the scene where the family gathers together to make dumplings (which he based on his own family’s gatherings and dumpling-making lessons led by his late maternal grandmother); the climactic mahjong showdown scene between Rachel and Eleanor (which was especially fun to read about knowing how the game is played and seeing how my understanding of the symbolism behind that scene aligned with Chu’s intention for it); and the kitchen scene where Nick first introduces Rachel to his mother (the significance of that scene is that Chu indirectly pays homage to his family’s restaurant, Chef Chu’s, which has been a Silicon Valley mainstay for more than 50 years – though the bit about the MSG appearance in that scene and both Michelle Yeoh’s as well as Chu’s father’s reaction to it was hilarious).  There were also some CRA “fun facts” that Chu revealed in his memoir that I had no idea about (for example, Chu’s daughter Willow – who was a newborn at the time -- has a “blink-and-you’ll miss it” cameo in the movie, as does CRA author Kevin Kwan’s family).  Reading all this behind-the-scenes stuff made me want to go re-watch the movie again, this time as someone with more “inside knowledge” that will undoubtedly enhance the experience even further for me.

I wanted to close this review with two quotes from Chu’s memoir that resonated most with me, precisely because they reflect my own struggles as an Asian American constantly trying to reconcile the two sides of my cultural identity. 

The first quote is from the chapter about CRA, where Chu talks about the significance of Rachel’s journey in the movie – he refers specifically to the scene on the staircase where Eleanor (played to wonderful effect by one of my longtime idols Michelle Yeoh) tells Rachel (a role which Constance Wu also embodied perfectly): “You will never be enough.”  Chu explains how this one line of dialogue (and the brilliant way Michelle Yeoh delivered it) had the powerful effect of causing all the Asian Americans on set (including himself) to go silent because of how deeply it cuts to the core of the Asian American experience, in a way that those who’ve never had to navigate those two worlds will never understand.  He writes: “Eleanor’s line and Rachel’s reaction expressed what I hadn’t been willing to express before and had rarely seen expressed by anybody else.  When you grow up the way I did – torn between Asia and America, trying to shed what you are, trying to be what you’re not – the world can make you feel worthless.  You’re not Asian enough.  You’re not American enough.  You’re not smart enough.  You’re not talented enough.  If you’re an Asian man, you’re not attractive enough.  And then, louder than all the rest: You don’t belong here.  You hear that one all the time.  Everywhere.”  I cried when I read this part because of how succinctly it expresses my own lifelong identity struggle. 

The second quote comes later in that same chapter, when Chu talks candidly about some of the criticisms that CRA received – specifically the one where people complained that CRA simplified the complexities of the Asian culture and in presenting the insular world of wealthy Asians, it reflected an “outsider’s version of Asian life” and therefore was inauthentic (notably, the movie was slammed in many of the overseas Asian territories that screened it).  Chu explains that the CRA story is about an Asian American going to Asia for the first time and we are seeing the world through her “newcomer” eyes – the movie was not meant to provide a comprehensive view of Asian culture, but rather an “Asia 101” type of glimpse into one aspect of the culture, with the hope that the opportunity to explore the “deeper layers – the true change that comes from broader awareness” can become more accessible in the future.  Hearing this particular complaint gave Chu insight into what his parents went through with their restaurant, which endured similar criticisms throughout its existence.  This prompted Chu to have a heartfelt conversation with his father, of which he writes: “’This is how you grew up,’ my dad told me.  ‘Respecting two worlds because we are of two worlds.  People who aren’t of those two worlds can’t see that’s what we’re trying to resolve.’ To make a life in this country, they had needed to find a way to integrate Asia and America….After so many years of trying to be like Spielberg and Lucas, I came into my own as a filmmaker only once I started trying to be like my parents – when I started thinking of myself as an ambassador, treating my position between two cultures as something to cherish, not something to hide or resent.  They showed me how to tell stories that would open the door for other stories.”

This was an insightful memoir, one that I enjoyed not just because of the resonance from a cultural perspective, but also because of Chu’s unflinching honesty when recounting his successes and failures (whether in life or work).  Chu’s passion, enthusiasm, and love for filmmaking truly shines through in this memoir -- the way he recounted his movie-making experiences as well as his encounters with various famous people (Steven Spielberg, Steve Jobs, etc.) gave me serious “kid in a candy shop” vibes; this, combined with Chu’s self-deprecating humor (which was on full display throughout the book), made his memoir a lot of fun to read.

Received ARC from Random House via NetGalley

 

**Note:  The quotes above are from the final published copy of the book, which I ended up reading instead of the ARC version.  Also, Chu and his co-writer Jeremy McCarthy did an interview with Ariana Grande (hosted by bookstore Book Passage) where they provide additional insights about the memoir and their experience writing it – I would recommend watching that interview if you have access to it, as it definitely enhances the reading experience!

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.