Review: A Man of Two Faces (by Viet Thanh Nguyen)

My Rating:  5 stars

As soon as I turned the last page of Pulitzer Prize winning author Viet Thanh Nguyen's new memoir, my first reaction was, well, silence because I was too awe-struck to speak.  I sat there for quite some time, reflecting on what I had just read (to say there was A LOT to reflect upon is an understatement), but also marveling at the brilliance that I had just witnessed.   Believe me when I say that this is no ordinary memoir — the content itself (with Nguyen's eloquent yet unflinchingly honest writing style) is powerful enough on its own, but the way he plays with elements of form throughout the book honestly just blew me away.  The formatting of the book is important here — the sections that mimic poetry, the clever use of white space, the different size fonts, the use of "TM" after certain words, the thoughtful (and careful) placement of words / phrases / sentences on the page to convey specific ideas, the shifting of voice and point of view, the interspersing of family photographs where appropriate, etc. (truly, I could go on and on) — all of this had the combined effect of creating a unique and powerful reading experience unlike any other.  I've read my fair share of memoirs over the years, but I've definitely never read anything like this one.

As I mentioned earlier, Nguyen writes eloquently, using language and prose in a way that captivates, yet doesn't come across as pretentious or highbrow.  In fact, Nguyen writes in such a straightforward, lucid manner that, at times, I couldn't help but feel taken aback by the brutal honesty of his words.  At the same time, I also resonated deeply with much of what he wrote (even though our backgrounds couldn't be more different). Case in point — I had actually received an advance copy of Nguyen's memoir and started off reading the e-arc, but barely a few pages in, I was already highlighting so many things that resonated with me, that I wound up getting a physical copy of the book instead so I could have something tangible in which to make notes (I ended up using an entire sleeve of colored sticky tabs because I found things I wanted to flag on nearly every page).  Something else that struck me with this memoir — Nguyen talks about a lot of very difficult topics in here (as he mentions himself at certain points, this is his family's story, but also a "war story"), yet he also infuses the entire narrative with a self-deprecating sense of humor — the net result being a perfect balance of serious and funny that made the "heavy" topics easier to engage with.  Personally, I found myself laughing and crying in equal measure while reading this book.

To be honest, I don't think any review will be able to do justice to the brilliance of what Nguyen was able to achieve with this memoir. I initially thought about including a few quotes in this review that especially resonated with me, but there were so many good ones that I had trouble picking only a few, so I decided not to include any.  Instead, I recommend anyone reading this review go pick this one up (a physical copy, as that's the best way to appreciate this memoir with such an unconventional structure) and experience it for yourself.  

Lastly, I wanted to put in a plug for Miwa Messer's interview with Viet Thanh Nguyen on her Poured Over podcast.  The conversation they had about this book was absolutely wonderful and inspiring — definitely a great supplement to the reading experience with this one! 

Received ARC from Grove Press via NetGalley.

Review: The Art of Gathering (by Priya Parker)

My Rating: 4 stars

I had heard about this book when it first came out in 2018 and over the past couple years, I kept hearing the book recommended over and over again, both by strangers as well as by bookish friends.  I have social anxiety so I've never been one for hosting and I rarely ever go to parties, which is why, when I first heard that this book was about "gatherings," I put off reading it.  But then as I heard people talking about the book, I realized it could be applicable to gatherings of all kinds, including work gatherings both formal and informal (such as meetings and conferences), plus I was curious, so I decided to finally pick this book up.  I'm glad I did because I ended up really enjoying this one, to the point that I couldn't put it down (like a page-turner, which is rare for a non-fiction "self-help" book) and ultimately finished it in one sitting.  I also ended up taking a lot of notes, which surprised me given the topic.

The book's author, Priya Parker, is a facilitator and strategic advisor trained in the field of conflict resolution.  Because of this background, the advice she gives focuses more on the human aspects of gatherings (the hosts and guests) rather than the logistics (which she does cover, but to a lesser extent). In one of the chapters, where she talks about how most event planning guides lean more toward the logistics aspects such as what type of food to prepare and when to start, she writes: "This encapsulates the prevailing approach to gathering that I hope to change: fussing over the crudités and hoping for the best when it comes to the human beings.  We deserve better."  Indeed, we do!! 

I also really liked the way Parker broke down the information, going in order from deciding the purpose of the gathering and figuring out the guest list to the responsibilities of the host through to the closing.  The examples that Parker gave ran the gamut from simple (a family dinner, a weekly morning meeting at work) to extreme (large city-wide dinners, professional conferences involving hundreds of world leaders), which I found to be an interesting way to show how her techniques could be applied to any type of gathering — though at the same time, Parker does make clear that not all techniques will be applicable to every gathering, which I appreciated.

One of the things I was surprised to learn was how there could be so many different aspects to a gathering, which I had never thought about before — for example, with the opening and closing of a gathering, there could be multiple steps involved beyond just saying "welcome" and "thank you."  Parker explains the importance of focusing on a good opening and closing by pointing to studies about attention span and memory which "show that audiences disproportionately remember the first 5 percent, the last 5 percent, and a climactic moment of a talk.  Gatherings…work in much the same way.  And yet, we often pay the least attention to how we open and close them, treating these elements as afterthoughts."  I've actually heard this information before in other iterations but never correlated it to openings and closings of gatherings, so it was an eye-opener for me.

One of the sections that resonated most with me is when Parker talks about vulnerability, authenticity, and honesty during gatherings and how "the stranger spirit" is an important contributing factor to achieving this because "it is often easier to confess parts of our lives with strangers, who have no stake in our lives, than with intimates who do."  This is absolutely true for me, which is one reason why, social anxiety not withstanding, I tend do better at gatherings with casual acquaintances whom I probably will never see again versus gatherings of family, friends, and co-workers whom I have to face every day.  I wasn't expecting to encounter such resonant insight in a book about gathering!

Overall, I found this book quite fascinating. The title is actually perfect, as Parker truly does talk about gathering as an "art" form.  I also appreciated how Parker arranged the information in such a practical way that was both easy to understand and follow.  I highly recommend this book, as I feel there is valuable insight to be gleaned here, whether you usually play the role of host or guest (or, like me, neither).  This is not a typical event planning guide though, so if that's what you're interested in, definitely look elsewhere; but if you're interested in a thoughtful, well-written book about how to make gatherings more meaningful from a "people" perspective, then I absolutely suggest picking this one up.

Review: The House of Doors (by Tan Twan Eng)

My Rating: 4 stars

I've wanted to read Tan Twan Eng's works for years, ever since a few bookish friends of mine read both his previous award-winning novels and kept recommending them to me.  While I do have both of those novels on my TBR (as well as physical copies sitting on my shelf), I keep falling into the "too many books, too little time" trap and of course, in the end, I wasn't able to get to them (someday though, I am determined that I will get to all the books I've been meaning to get to!).  Anyway, I guess it shouldn't be a surprise then that when I heard Tan would have a new book out this year, I jumped at the chance to grab a copy, and while I was hoping to have read this one last month before it was actually released, getting to it now is better late than never.

One of the things I've heard that Tan is known for is the beautiful, lyrical prose that he utilizes to tell his stories.  While yes, there was definitely quite a bit of beautiful writing in this newest novel, it actually didn't permeate the entire story, at least it didn't feel so to me. I felt that some parts — especially those related to the Proudlock murder trial — were written in a simpler, more straightforward style that seemed to be a little bit at odds with the more descriptive and elegant prose in other parts. But then I later read in an article that with the trial segments, Tan was trying to hew as close to the real life unfolding of the event as possible, in which case, the more restrained, straightforward writing made sense. 

This is actually one of those books where there technically wasn't much action in terms of plot (a large part of the book was the main protagonist Lesley Hamlyn recounting a story to famous author W. Somerset Maugham) — yet at the same time, there seemed to be several threads running through the book that felt necessary to keep track of. 

Essentially, the story is a reimagining of Maugham's trip to Penang in the 1920s and what he learns while there becoming the inspiration for one of his later books, the short story collection entitled The Casuarina Tree (which was published in 1926).  While I'm familiar with Maugham as an author, since I've read a few of his previous works (my favorite of the ones I've read is The Painted Veil), I knew very little about his personal life, so I was curious how much of the way Tan depicted Maugham was fact versus fiction — which of course took me down the rabbit hole of reading up on Maugham after finishing the novel (it was fascinating to see how Tan incorporated the real life details about Maugham into the story).  Also, after finishing this novel, I immediately wanted to read The Casuarina Tree to see how Maugham actually wrote the story of the Proudlock murder and trail (which itself was based on real life events) and how much of it jived with Tan's version (I know, I'm a nerd with this kind of stuff) — though unfortunately, I haven't been able to get my hands on a copy yet.

One of the other threads that Tan wove into the book was a backstory involving the famous Chinese revolutionary Dr. Sun Yat Sen (who really had visited Penang at the time, but in a different year).  There were also other aspects of Chinese history that Tan incorporated into the story, such as the Taiping Rebellion and the fall of the Qing dynasty.  Given the dearth of English language novels in existence that talk about such lesser known aspects of Chinese history (and actually get the facts straight to boot), I definitely appreciated what Tan did here.  Even though this particular story arc was secondary (the main arc was Maugham's visit and the story Lesley told him), it was, in my opinion, the best written part of the book (and certainly my favorite out of the several threads throughout the story).

Overall, this was quite an ambitious novel with multiple threads that made the story a tad convoluted in places, but I still enjoyed it immensely.  As I mentioned earlier, I definitely need to track down a copy of The Casuarina Tree so I can study the parallels — after that, I might just dig up my copies of Tan's previous 2 novels and get started on them (time permitting, of course).

Received ARC from Bloomsbury Publishing via NetGalley.

Review: Wuthering Heights (by Emily Brontë)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

First off, I have to admit that I actually finished this book a couple days ago, but had to put off writing the review not because of lack of time, but rather, I needed to work through the seriously mixed feelings I had toward this book as a whole.  This was actually my first time reading Emily Brontë's famous "story of unrequited love" and while part of me (the literary scholar side?) can see why this classic has been lauded and held in such high regard for over a century, another part of me (the rational reader side?) honestly finds it hard to understand the appeal of such a dark, depressing story where every single character is horrid and deplorable (more on this later). 

Yes, the writing is absolutely brilliant — the symbolism, the masterful use of language, the wholly developed characters, the vivid imagery, the complex and nuanced themes, the creative and clever way Brontë structures the narrative, the interesting usage of narrative voice, etc. — from a literary standpoint, this novel is a "dream" to study and analyze as a great example of brilliant and mesmerizing storytelling.  With that said though, when I take off my "scholar" hat and put on my "regular reader" one, the experience is very very different.  I'm the type of reader who puts a lot of weight on the characters in a story and as such, in order for me to be fully invested in the story, I need to have at least one character that I feel like I can root for.  Yes, I understand that every story will have its fair share of flawed and unlikable characters and that's perfectly fine — but the problem with this story in particular is that EVERY SINGLE character is not just unlikable, but exceedingly so, to the point that not even one character is worth rooting for. Seriously, every character in here is in some way mean, spoiled, cruel, selfish, hypocritical, vindictive, violent, self-absorbed, abusive, etc. (I could go on, but you get the point) — though of course  Heathcliff tops them all by being downright evil as well (it's not a coincidence that he is compared to the Devil at various points in the story).  Based on their actions and behavior. I honestly could not bring myself to care about any of the characters (not even Nelly or Lockwood, who were somewhat more tolerable in the grand scheme of things, but still…), which unfortunately made this a brutal and deeply unpleasant read for me.  

Given the above, I'm actually glad that my first experience reading this was in a group setting (again for one of my literature classes), as being able to talk through the problematic elements as well as getting more background context did help to blunt some of the unpleasantness to some extent (though not completely of course).  In this light, I definitely don't recommend picking this one up individually as a "leisure" read, as it's best read in an environment where the events that happen can be parsed and discussed within context (in my opinion at least).

Regarding the rating — to be honest, I agonized over this for quite some time.  From a writing / literary scholarship perspective, this one definitely deserves 5 stars…but at the same time, from a reading experience (unpleasant) and "how did this book make me feel" (frustrated and miserable) perspective, my irritability with all the characters and not being able to stand any of them definitely give me pause.  In the end, I decided to go with the "happy medium" of 3.5 stars.   I'm pretty sure I won't re-read this on my own accord like I do with Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre (speaking of which, for some reason, people like to compare both novels as in a similar vein — a sentiment I vehemently disagree with, but that's a whole other topic altogether). If circumstances require me to reference Wuthering Heights in the future, I'll probably just skim it so I can avoid the torture of having to endure these frustrating characters again.

Review: Jane Eyre (by Charlotte Brontë)

My Rating:  5 stars

Catch-up review #4

Charlotte Bronte's most famous novel Jane Eyre is one of those brilliantly written classics that never fails to leave me in a state of awe, no matter how familiar I am with the story and its characters.  Indeed, I've re-read this novel too many times to count over the past couple decades, yet upon each re-read, I either come away with some detail that I didn't notice in prior read-throughs, or I'm drawn to a different nuance in the narrative that shifts my interpretation of the text in certain aspects.  This time around, re-reading the novel in a group setting (for one of my literature classes) enhanced my reading experience in a profound way – so much so that, weeks later, I'm still thinking about some of the in-depth discussions we had on various topics, from the themes, symbolism, motifs, to the story structure and masterful writing.  

This is a novel that's powerful and poignant and upon each re-read, it has the ability to make me feel as though I'm on an emotional roller coaster ride, experiencing the ups and downs of Jane's life as though I were right there beside her (and the ending moves me to tears EVERY.SINGLE.TIME).  Most significantly, it's not often that I encounter a novel where I feel every element (from the writing to the characterization to the execution of the story, etc.) is done pretty much flawlessly – well, this novel definitely occupies one of the top spots on my "epitome of perfection" list.

Unlike my other reviews, I intend to keep this one relatively short — partly because this novel has been so widely read and studied (and everyone knows the story already) that I feel there's nothing really I can say in a review that will add much to the conversation (or do justice to the brilliance of the novel).  With that said though, there's actually a personal reason why Jane Eyre has particular meaning for me.  The first time I read the novel was back in junior high, when it was assigned reading in my English class, alongside another famous novel:  Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.   I was already an avid reader at the time, but mostly of books that I chose myself for "leisure" reading; in essence, these two novels would be my first true exposure to "classics" — but unfortunately I had heard so many "horror stories" about what the experience of reading classics would be like (ie: boring, irrelevant, too daunting, etc..) that I was honestly a bit put off.  But I persisted of course, and ended up falling in love with both novels — so much so that they (both novels) instilled in me a subsequent love for studying classics, but more importantly, they ignited the spark in me that made me realize I wanted to pursue writing creatively.  To this latter point, after reading both novels, I was inspired to try writing a short story that combined elements from both (which, to my surprise, ended up winning a writing contest that year).  Since then, both JE and P&P have become mainstays in my life — two novels that I re-read consistently and will forever remain "favorites of all time" for me.

Review: The Leftover Woman (by Jean Kwok)

My Rating:  3.5 stars

Now that I have a little bit of a break from the demands of work and school, I am hoping to get caught back up on the new releases and book club reads that I had been neglecting over the past month.  One of those new releases is Jean Kwok's latest novel The Leftover Woman, which came out earlier in the month.  I had read Kwok's previous novel Searching for Sylvie Lee several years back and had really enjoyed it, so of course this book, her newest work, was highly anticipated. In the end, Kwok definitely didn't disappoint, as she delivered a solid, compelling story that proved to be both culturally resonant as well as thought-provoking -  though not without a few flaws.

At the center of the story are two women from completely opposite worlds.  Jasmine Yang is a young Chinese woman from a poor rural village who enters into an arranged marriage at 14 to a man years older than her. After suffering several miscarriages, Jasmine finally gives birth to a daughter, but not too long afterwards, is told that the baby died.  Jasmine is devastated — until she finds out that her husband lied to her and actually gave the baby up for adoption so that they could try for a son under China's strict One Child Policy. Determined to find her daughter, Jasmine plans an escape from her abusive marriage and eventually lands in New York through the help of "snakeheads" whom she has to figure out a way to pay back.  Meanwhile, in New York, Rebecca Whitney is an editor at a glamorous publishing house who is living the dream life — she has a prestigious family name and the accompanying wealth and privilege that comes with it, and she lives in a beautiful house with a handsome, talented husband aa well as an adopted daughter whom she adores.  But balancing a high profile career with the demands of marriage and motherhood is not easy and when a work-related scandal breaks out, Rebecca finds her perfect life slowly starting to unravel.  The story is told alternately from the perspectives of these two very different women whose lives end up colliding in unexpected ways.

I really appreciated the premise of this story, especially Jasmine's storyline about her struggles fleeing an archaic, patriarchal system and the choices she had to make once she was in America trying to find her daughter. Not that I didn't like Rebecca's storyline, but I just felt that it was less necessary — I would've liked to see Jasmine's story explored more, as there were opportunities there that were only touched upon.  I will be honest in saying that I preferred Jasmine's story arc and the direction that Kwok went with it (though there was potential for more as I mentioned earlier), whereas Rebecca's story arc felt typical of other stories that we've read before.

Plot-wise, I felt that the first half of the story dragged a bit and the buildup was slow — I definitely preferred the second half better, though the ending also felt too rushed (and there were some plot holes that weren't too believable). Despite the pacing issues though, I enjoyed this one overall — the cultural aspects were done well and the "twist" did take me by surprise (though it didn't blow me away to the point that I keep thinking about it like I've done with other twists).  

I don't want to say too much, since this IS a mystery / thriller after all, so it's best to go in knowing as little as possible (though I have to say that the story was more character-driven than plot-driven, so from that aspect, the thriller element was less prominent).  I definitely recommend picking this one up, especially if you're looking for a story that has mystery / thriller elements, but also emotional depth and poignancy.  I can't wait to see what Kwok comes out with next!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.

Review: The Joy Luck Club (by Amy Tan)

My Rating:  5 stars

Catch up review #3

I read The Joy Luck Club for the first time many many years ago, when I was a teenager in high school.  At the time, despite my shared background with the characters in the interconnected stories (the "Americanized" daughter of Chinese immigrant parents), I was too young to fully understand the significance of the book from a cultural perspective.  Re-reading this book now, as an adult, is a completely different experience for me, in large part due to the insights that I've gained from the 4 decades I've spent (and continue to spend) navigating my cultural identity. 

Consisting of 16 interconnected stories narrated alternately by 4 pairs of Chinese mothers and their Chinese-American daughters, Amy Tan's debut novel is a powerful exploration of the struggle between the mothers and daughters to relate to and understand each other amongst the cultural and generational disparities that define their relationships.  As I mentioned earlier, reading The Joy Luck Club this time around felt very different from when I did so in my youth — in addition to picking up on nuances with language that I didn't notice previously, most significant was the resonance I felt in the experiences of the various characters. Not only did I recognize aspects of myself in each of the daughters, I also recognized the struggles  in each of their relationships with their mothers — relationships fraught with misunderstandings, communication issues, unspoken hurt and pain, defiant silences, etc., yet ultimately rooted in love and the unbreakable bonds of family.  Each story had a familiar experience or feeling that I recognized and related to.  In the story "Without Wood," for example, I understood exactly where Rose was coming from when she kept hesitating time and time again to tell her mother An-Mei about her impending divorce because she was trying to avoid the criticism, judgment, and unwanted advice that was sure to follow her revelation (avoiding criticism from our mothers is pretty much a way of life for many Chinese daughters). The story "Two Kinds" brought tears to my eyes because I understood acutely the sense of failure that comes with not living up to my mother's hope and expectations (not to mention the argument about obedience and the expectations of a Chinese daughter that Jing-Mei has with her mother Suyuan echoes ones I've had in the past with my mom).  In the story "Rules of the Game," I commiserated with Waverly when her attempt to rebuke and defy her mother leads to her getting the silent treatment (which is something I've experienced countless times growing up). These were just a few examples among many.

But it wasn't just the daughters' experiences that I related to — the stories told from the mothers' perspectives were also profound in the way they provided clarity to some of the cultural circumstances that informed the mothers' lives, which in turn, affected their behaviors toward their daughters.  In these stories, I was able to recognize some of my own mother's experiences as well as things she's told me in the past that, at the time, I may not have understood the significance — these stories then, had the effect of helping me reflect and make better sense of things. 

Aside from being able to resonate with the characters' experiences and feelings on a personal level, I also appreciated coming across so many cultural references in the book that I grew up hearing about — a few examples: the Moon Lady story, the tale of Old Mr. Chou (I was also told the tale when I was a kid), the superstition about rice husbands (this was a huge one in my family), the historical details about China from some of the mothers' stories, etc.

With all that said though, the biggest thing that sets this book apart from so many others about the Chinese-American experience is the writing.  Tan writes in a way that, on the surface, appears simple and straightforward, but when you look deeper, there is a masterful complexity to it that, quite frankly, blows my mind.  In my previous review of Tan's novel The Kitchen God's Wife, I touched on how brilliantly she uses the mechanics of language to create nuance and meaning — this is certainly the case here as well.  At the same time, Tan's writing is also thoughtful, meticulous, and sincere — all qualities that, to me, are absolutely necessary when it comes to books (and stories) about cultural experiences.

I'm usually not a huge re-reader, especially nowadays when I have so many books I haven't yet read that I actually want to read.  But some books are worth taking the time to re-read —The Joy Luck Club is definitely one of them.  

Review: The Kitchen God’s Wife (by Amy Tan)

My Rating:  4.5 stars

As I mentioned in a previous review — I've read quite a few books over the past few weeks, but did not get around to writing reviews on any of them.  I have a little more time now so I'm trying to "catch up" on those reviews.  This, then, is catch up review #2.

One of the books I read during this time period is Amy Tan's The Kitchen God's Wife —originally published in 1991, this is Tan's second novel after The Joy Luck Club (which I also read and will review at a later date). As most readers familiar with Tan probably know, many of her works contain autobiographical elements (to an extent) either from her own life or from her family's background. In this case, the story is based on her mother Daisy's history and while many of the details were changed, the essence of her mother's backstory remained — specifically the depictions of how women were treated in China during that time period (1920s to late 1940s) as well as some of the things she had to endure and survive.  At its heart though, this is also a historical novel that chronicles the changes in China from the 1920s (when the vestiges of its feudal past were especially apparent) leading up to WWII and its aftermath (one of the things I appreciate most is that Tan tells this history from the Chinese perspective, rather than from the Western perspective).  

Interestingly enough, the story actually starts in the 1980s, in San Francisco, and the first few chapters do feel a little like The Joy Luck Club with its exploration of mother/daughter relationships and the generational as well as cultural gap that causes seemingly insurmountable tensions between them.  The mother is Winnie Louie, who is forced to tell her daughter Pearl about her past when her sister-in-law Helen (who believes herself to be dying) wants to "come clean" and confess all the secrets they've been hiding for decades. Winnie tells her story starting in chapter 5 through to the end (with the exception of the very last chapter, which brings everything full circle back to 1980s San Francisco).

To me, this book was more grim and harder to get through than Tan's other works — which, in a way, isn't too surprising given its subject matter.  Though there are certainly light-hearted moments (especially in the "modern-day" sections of the story) and the fact that the story starts with Winnie telling her own story 40 years later (so we already know she survives all the hardship from her past) lightens things a little with the message of hope and resilience, but the events that happen in the past leave such an impression that I couldn't help feeling like a dark shadow had been cast and couldn't be lifted.  The character of Wen Fu (Winnie's husband in China) was so deplorable and despicable that after some point, I honestly didn't want to read about this god-awful person anymore (though of course I finished all the way through to the end).

Overall, I did like this one and would definitely recommend it (though trigger warnings abound), as Tan's writing is, as usual, wonderful. I've always admired Tan's style of writing — how she is able to synthesize everything she and/or her family experienced and combine it with the skills she learned (she majored in English and Linguistics in school) to manipulate language in a way that conveys cultural nuance and meaning. To this point, The Kitchen God's Wife is especially significant in that, not only does she pull out her entire literary toolkit (I actually did a deep dive analysis of Tan's writing but I won't get into that here), but she also employs meticulous research to weave lesser known historical elements into a story inspired by her mother's background — all of this combined has the effect of paying tribute to her mother and her own culture and background, while at the same time, educating readers on aspects of China's history.  Trigger warnings aside, this one is definitely well worth a read. 

Review: Sense and Sensibility (by Jane Austen)

My Rating:  5 stars

I know it's been awhile since I've posted a review.  This is mostly due to being busy with work and school, resulting in me falling behind on stuff.  I've definitely been continuing to read (quite a lot actually), but haven't been able to find the time to write reviews on everything I've read the past couple weeks. I'm aiming to catch up though, and hopefully I can get back to my previous consistency in terms of writing and posting about the books I've read (that's the goal at least).

So with that said, here's my first "catch-up" review.  I had mentioned a little while back ago that I'm currently taking a course on Jane Austen, which I'm elated about, as it has given me the excuse I needed to read/re-read all her works.  I finished Sense and Sensibility a few weeks ago and while this was technically a re-read for me, it was so long ago since I first read it that I honestly couldn't remember much from it.  Fortunately, as I started re-reading, things started coming back to me about the plot and the characters.  Of course, with this being Jane Austen, there's no doubt that I enjoyed reading this one — the writing was flawless as expected and the trademark wit and irony were there as well. But compared to my two all-time favorite Austen novels (Persuasion and Pride and Prejudice), one of the things that always bothered me about S&S was the dearth of likable characters (aka characters I felt like I could root for). 

While I didn't dislike Elinor and Marianne (the main heroines) per se, I also didn't really feel anything for them either.  Elinor came across as way too uptight for most of the story, plus I thought the way she was always so insistently devoted to Edward Ferrars (a man who didn't really have anything to recommend him, in my opinion) was bizarre (and frustrating). Marianne I felt was a bit too over-the-top at times with her behavior (which I know was part of the point of the story but still…) and we don't really get to see her true character come out, which I thought was a shame.  Edward was a nice guy, but as I mentioned earlier, he was kind of useless for most of the story. Colonel Brandon was probably the only one out of the main characters that I liked well enough to want to root for.  Outside of these 4 (and the villain character Willoughby), most of the other side characters were either mean, vain, selfish, arrogant, self-serving, crude, silly, stupid, or a combination thereof (Fanny Dashwood was the worst in my opinion: I'm still fuming about that conversation she has with her husband at the beginning of the novel…).

My annoyances with the characters aside, S&S is still a brilliantly written, complex novel with so many endlessly debatable topics (i.e.: the idea of each sister embodying sense versus sensibility or both attributes at once is something we could probably debate forever) — the complexity of the writing alone is well worth 5 stars.  Reading the novel in a group setting and getting the chance to analyze as well as discuss it has been wonderful, so I highly recommend that if possible. 

Review: The Phoenix Crown (by Kate Quinn and Janie Chang)

My Rating:  4 stars

As a result of busy season at work and school starting for me, finding time for leisure reading has been quite difficult the past few weeks. Even so, I was able to squeeze in several ARCs that I had lined up to read in September, which, given the timing, I'm glad I was able to finish.

One of those ARCs is The Phoenix Crown, a new collaborative novel by two popular authors known for writing brilliant historical fiction: Kate Quinn and Janie Chang. I've been excited to read this book since I first heard about it earlier in the year, not only because of the interesting premise, but also because both authors have separately written works that I've loved, so of course, I went into this one with high hopes.  And in the end, it definitely did not disappoint.

Despite what the book summary might allude to, the narrative here isn't actually a dual timeline, as majority of the story takes place in 1906 — it is only in the last quarter of the book or so that the story fast forwards 6 years to 1912.  While the plot was not as riveting as I expected (a few scenes did feel a tad bit contrived), the historical details were superbly done — of course not a surprise given that both Quinn and Chang are established historical fiction authors.  One of the things I enjoyed most though was following the character arcs of the four women at the center of the story, all of whom had distinct personalities as well as fascinating backstories — though the character I would've been most interested in reading more about was Feng Suling, the skilled embroideress who hailed from San Francisco's Chinatown in the aftermath of the Chinese Exclusion Act.  The Author's Note at the end of the book is definitely a must-read, as both Quinn and Chang provide quite a bit of historical context for both the characters (several of whom were real people or based on real people) and the various events covered in the story.  It was also in the Author's Note that I learned about a reference in the story to Chang's previous novel The Porcelain Moon, which I had read earlier this year and really enjoyed (for me, its always fun to discover throwbacks and references to authors' prior works).

I don't want to say too much, as I don't want to give anything away, so I will just put my name in the hat to recommend reading this (and hope for another future collaboration between these two fantastic authors).  One thing to note is that the publication date on this book seems to have changed, as I originally had this as coming out this month (September 2023), but I recently noticed that there is now a finalized publication date in February 2024 (I mention this in case it matters for those interested in reading this one).  While waiting for another collaboration, I'm glad that both authors have plenty of works in their own respective oeuvres that I can continue to explore!

Received ARC from William Morrow via NetGalley.