A Person of Interest

A Person of Interest
By Susan Choi

Professor Lee, an Asian-born mathematician nearing retirement age, would seem the last person likely to attract the attention of FBI agents. Yet after a popular young colleague becomes the latest victim of a serial bomber, Lee’s detached response and maladroit behavior lead the FBI, the national news media, and even his own neighbors to regard him with damning suspicion.

Amid campus-wide grief over the murder, Lee receives a cryptic letter from a figure out of his past. The letter unearths a lifetime of shortcomings – toward his dead wife, his estranged only daughter, and a long-denied son. Caught between his guilty recollections and the scrutiny of the murder investigation, determined to face his tormentor and exonerate himself, Lee sets off on a journey that will bring him face-to-face with his past – and that might even win him redemption.

Once again, complete ignorance strikes. I had no idea this book was broadly set around the Unabomber, so the references to the newfangled computer geniuses took me aback. I also had no idea that Choi almost won the Pulitzer, and had somehow not connected that she'd written Trust Exercise - a book which has been in my To Be Read list for years, but never attempted due to some reviews hinting at unhappy stylistic flair. If I had known, or remembered that, maybe I would have been better prepared for this. Ostensibly yes, about a mathematics professor who finds himself unfortunately entangled in an FBI investigation into the bombing of his neighboring office, it's much more a character study into someone  alienated from almost everyone in their life. It's not a thriller, it's LITERARY.

The problem you see, is while it's well written, we spend the beginning third of the book wallowing in professor Lee's painful reminiscence of the past, wherein he met and fell in love with his first wife Aileen (who happened to be married to a friend of his, and pregnant to boot), and she separated from her husband and then lost custody of the baby due to some immoral, if not strictly illegal, machinations by her ex-husband.

What should be a quickening pace is instead bogged down again and again by the intermittent forays into the past. And the author's writing style doesn't help. There's page long paragraphs composed of only one or two sentences, meandering but important, and frequently I would be finish a paragraph only to find I had read none of it, and have to return, unhappily, to follow more closely.  I'm sure no author is boo-hooing that their readers have to *gasp* actually focus on reading their books, but again, it makes the reading experience slow, repetitive, and unpleasant, which shouldn't be the case for a book as well written as this one.

If you don't understand what I mean, here's a sample:

But now that she was pregnant, the little dumb show, Gaither's penning of his letters in the kitchen where she would observe him and his cheerful reading of the paltry responses, had come to an end. It was true that she had mostly been in bed, and that Gaither had gotten the mail from the box when he came home from school and heated chicken broth in the kitchen, and washed and dried the bowls afterward. But she could easily see him relocating his correspondence from the kitchen to the lamp table next to their bed, perhaps directing a superfluous inquiry to her prone form: "Aileen, what was the name of those beautiful flowers you planted? I'd like to tell Mother." She could easily see him having added the most recent card from his mother to the tray that he brought her each evening and expressively reading his mother's few words while she struggled to eat. But Gaither had done neither. She knew that for him estrangement from his parents was painful, both for how unwanted a condition it was for himself and for the distress he assumed it caused her. She couldn't disabuse him of this latter notion without insulting him further, but the truth was that his estrangement from his parents did not upset her at all. It was easier for her than she imagined the opposite would have been: their pious embrace of her as a daughter, correspondence duties of her own, treks to their sterile home on Christian holidays. All of it intensifying unimaginably after a child was born. Gaither had once compared her, with what seemed to be uneasy admiration, to Athena sprung unsentimentally from Zeus' thigh, or maybe out of his head: neither of them could exactly remember the story. But Gaither's meaning had been clear, that even as a child Aileen was essentially parentless. Aileen's parents had been learned, mildly crusading, moderately well-off and extremely late-breeding; though when they finally had children, they somehow had six, of which Aileen was the last. Aileen's childhood had taken place in the time after her parents had acquired housekeepers and assumed an emeritus status, so that passionate attachment to that primal relation of parents to child and measuring of all subsequent relations against it were foreign to her. What she had were her siblings, numerous enough that they composed more a loose federation than a snug family. Some she had always shared an easy sympathy with, and others were so much older she'd hardly known them at all. With no one did she have an exceptional bond, as she might have if there had been fewer of them overall.

That is a single paragraph.

The book presents some interesting questions, which I believe are also used in her Trust Exercise book: when we inhabit a character's head, how can we trust what they're telling us?  You see it here, when, at the very end of the book, Aileen's sister tells Lee that his terrible temper is the reason Aileen was scared of him. We see some other characters allude to fights he had about various work issues - granting tenure, etc, but because Lee doesn't think he has a temper, these are all presented as harmless disagreements with colleagues. And there's certainly space for that to be believable, even as we see how little responsibility Lee takes for his other cantankerous activity.

I mean, any man who watches his wife lose her infant child and takes not a single step to prevent it or console her (because he doesn't want to raise another man's child) is certainly trash, and I am glad that he acknowledges in the end, that he is responsible for the destruction of his marriage, not his wife's ex-husband or anybody else, but it does feel unsatisfactory that there's no real follow up from this. Aileen's dead, so there's no resolution there. Their daughter, Esther, appears only at the close, and we don't get any conversation or resolution with her. And while we might assume that Lee has undergone real change, since he accepts and isn't an asshole when Aileen's long lost son appears on his doorstep, again, we get a single introductory conversation and not much more, between the two of them.

While the primary focus is on Lee's relationships and emotional withering, there's also the Unabomber plot in the background! Choi makes the interesting choice to fictionalize a different bomber who (it turns out) knows Lee personally. I suppose it would have to be plotted this way, since otherwise Lee wouldn't become "A Person of Interest" and wouldn't have his life so disrupted that he effects real change - well, except that I do think that this could have been done without actually making him instrumental in catching the bomber, which begins to tread into that thriller territory we've been kept so assiduously away from.  It seemed to me that the great upheaval for Lee was the realization that his former friend, and wife's ex-husband, Gaither, was not the architect of all his sorrows, as he'd been so used to presuming, for the last thirty years or so. And so the idea that the bomber could have been someone else, someone who, again, from Lee's biased perspective, had everything, this idea could have affected Lee without the whole going-to-Idaho-at-the-bomber's-invitation-and-getting-inserted-into-an-FBI-operation-while-a-tangential-civilian.

37: Two Books With The Same Title

The Light Pirate

The Light Pirate

By Lily Brooks-Dalton

Set in the near future, this hopeful story of survival and resilience follows Wanda—a luminous child born out of a devastating hurricane—as she navigates a rapidly changing world.

Florida is slipping away. As devastating weather patterns and rising sea levels wreak gradual havoc on the state’s infrastructure, a powerful hurricane approaches a small town on the southeastern coast. Kirby Lowe, an electrical line worker, his pregnant wife, Frida, and their two sons, Flip and Lucas, prepare for the worst. When the boys go missing just before the hurricane hits, Kirby heads out into the high winds in search of his children. Left alone, Frida goes into premature labor and gives birth to an unusual child, Wanda, whom she names after the catastrophic storm that ushers her into a society closer to collapse than ever before.

As Florida continues to unravel, Wanda grows. Moving from childhood to adulthood, adapting not only to the changing landscape, but also to the people who stayed behind in a place abandoned by civilization, Wanda loses family, gains community, and ultimately, seeks adventure, love, and purpose in a place remade by nature.

Told in four parts—power, water, light, and time— The Light Pirate mirrors the rhythms of the elements and the sometimes quick, sometimes slow dissolution of the world as we know it. It is a meditation on the changes we would rather not see, the future we would rather not greet, and a call back to the beauty and violence of an untamable wilderness.

For a book about the end of the world, The Light Pirate is surprisingly peaceful. We follow the story of Wanda, from birth to death, in four sections, Power, Water, Light and Time. There is drastic upheaval, deaths, births, storms, fires, magic, murder and the loss of every marker of modern life, but the story uses a dreamy, semi-distant approach to these crises, so at no point does it feel as overwhelming as it otherwise might. 

In the first section, Power, yet another hurricane blows through a Florida that looks only a little more hard worn than the one we know today, devastating one particular family and resulting in the birth of a girl with an effervescent power. This is the most visceral and urgent section, describing a single 24 hour period, and the only one (with the exception of the epilogue) which is told linearly. With each subsequent section, we get more and more emotionally distant from the story.

In Water, ten years later, it is the last gasp of civilization, as Florida succumbs to nature, and the family is torn asunder again. 

Light, another ten or twenty years along, is the longest section, as it flits back and forth between the present, when Wanda finds potential new companionship, and fills in the gaps of the past, the final severing between Florida and the outside world, the loss of their home, and the loss of Wanda's mentor and mother figure. Time, which is a mere single chapter long, is the capstone to Wanda's arc and a look into what appears, finally, to be a stable and hopeful future. 

Although we dwell in detail on the decimation of life and property through the book, we spend no time at all on the creation of a new community which can survive the changes world. Perhaps that is why the ending appears optimistic: we don't wallow in the drudgery, the sheer effort of living, that even the best commune could offer under such circumstances. Whereas we hear in detail about the creeping encroachment of water and the sweat and pain of finding shelter in a world so blasted that it's impossible to be out in the daytime, we get to gloss over things like the return to a human existence where 50% of kids don't survive to their first birthday. (Something which was on the forefront of my mind, since Light introduces two women, one of whom must have had a kid since the loss of infrastructure, and one whom is imminently anticipating giving birth. As a reader, I'm immediately projecting the death of the mother and/or baby, which isn't, I assume, the tone the author was going for).

I don't think the epilogue is intended as trickery, I do think the author wants to offer hope. I just find myself cynical after seeing how far down the road we've already brought ourselves, with no expected reversal in sight. The last year has brought not only the inland mountain flooding in North Carolina, and the headlining wildfires of Los Angeles, but, in an eerily prescient twist, the widespread loss of electricity to the island or Puerto Rico on New Years Eve, due to deteriorating infrastructure. It's simultaneously hard to imagine a future in which the country simply abandons entire states (as tempting as the idea sounds, for other reasons), and yet hard to deny that seems overwhelmingly difficult to reverse - if we even had agreement on the whys and hows (and ifs!) it should be.

The depressing subject matter notwithstanding, it's a little treasure of a book. The descriptions of nature, the glimpses into a life which is both beyond comprehension yet all too real, the way the characters find the strength to keep going and continue making connections in spite of the odds. The primary relationship is between Wanda and Phyllis, an older neighbor, who eventually takes Wanda under her wing and gives her the tools (literally and figuratively) to survive. I mentioned this before, but aside from the first section, the entire book feels dreamlike and drifting, letting the atmosphere seep into the story at every level.

The Light Pirate seems to say both that the destruction of civilization is inevitable, and that we must adapt to the world, instead of adapting the world to us, if we wish to survive. I sure hope it's wrong. 

 

 

49: A Dystopian Book With A Happy Ending

Ballad for Sophie

Ballad for Sophie

By Filipe Melo and Juan Cavia

1933. In the small French village of Cressy-la-Valoise, a local piano contest brings together two brilliant young players: Julien Dubois, the privileged heir of a wealthy family, and François Samson, the janitor's son. One wins, one loses, and both are changed forever.

1997. In a huge mansion stained with cigarette smoke and memories, a bitter old man is shaken by the unexpected visit of an interviewer. Somewhere between reality and fantasy, Julien composes, like in a musical score, a complex and moving story about the cost of success, rivalry, redemption, and flying pianos.

When all is said and done, did anyone ever truly win? And is there any music left to play?

Had absolutely no idea this was a graphic novel when I chose it, but no regrets. It's a strikingly beautiful take of a talented pianist being interviewed as he slowly dies from cancer, and tells the story of his youth and rise to fame, including his competition with a supernaturally talented - but less fortunate - boy against whom the pianist is always measuring himself. 

The drawings are piquant and add the right touch of sharpness to a narrative which is frequently tragic although ultimately hopeful. It's extremely emotionally satisfying, as we get to review Julien's own past and actions through the interviewer's kinder, more distant lens. At one point, Julien refers to himself as the villain of his own story, but it's not nearly so straightforward as all that. The authors have done an incredible job making him multifaceted - both victim and perpetrator, winner and loser. The destruction of his childhood by forces beyond his control sets the stage for his unhappy life of fame.  Although playing is the only thing which seems to give his life purpose, it is only when he has irrevocably severed that link that we see Julien at peace.

Although Julien is obsessed with François as a literal rival, in the end, Julien's deeper struggles are against his own idealized vision of himself, and all the ways he sees his own failures and lapses. In all the book, there is never a point at which François speaks with Julien, and so we are left wondering what, in fact, François ever thought of Julien to begin with.  Would he have blamed Julien for the early derailment of his dreams? Did he know of all the ways that Julien's life intersected with his own? Is there a world in which they could have been friends? I know how I would answer those questions, but perhaps that says more about me than François.

In any case where an audio experience is described through a written medium, there's going to be some loss of translation. It's a testament to the authors here that a story ostensibly about music can be conveyed so well through the pages of Ballad for Sophie. In fact, one of the authors is a musician and composed music for the book, which though unnecessary, is a  There's no false notes (pun not intended). As I sit and recall the novel for this review, I find its impression is only improved in my memory.  I would recommend this book to any reader who appreciates art, in all its forms. 

31: A Book Where Music Plays An Integral Part Of The Storyline

Assistant to the Villain

Assistant to the Villain

By Hannah Nicole Maehrer

ASSISTANT WANTED: Notorious, high-ranking villain seeks loyal, levelheaded assistant for unspecified office duties, supporting staff for random mayhem, terror, and other Dark Things In General. Discretion a must. Excellent benefits.

With ailing family to support, Evie Sage's employment status isn't just important, it's vital. So when a mishap with Rennedawn’s most infamous Villain results in a job offer—naturally, she says yes. No job is perfect, of course, but even less so when you develop a teeny crush on your terrifying, temperamental, and undeniably hot boss. Don’t find evil so attractive, Evie.

But just when she’s getting used to severed heads suspended from the ceiling and the odd squish of an errant eyeball beneath her heel, Evie suspects this dungeon has a huge rat…and not just the literal kind. Because something rotten is growing in the kingdom of Rennedawn, and someone wants to take the Villain—and his entire nefarious empire—out.

Now Evie must not only resist drooling over her boss but also figure out exactly who is sabotaging his work…and ensure he makes them pay.

After all, a good job is hard to find.

Well, we have an early contender for least favorite read of the challenge! And what a surprise dark horse, although in theory, at least, I get to choose all of these books according to my tastes so none of them should be awful (Ernest Hemingway and 'less than three stars on goodreads' notwithstanding). But I had this one on my possible reading list even before the challenge came out, so it should have at least been palatable.  

But I was only 3% of the way in before I realized I didn't like it, and 7% when I first contemplated not even finishing it. And if not for the challenge, I definitely would have abandoned it without a second thought. But instead I struggled through it - it has the benefit of being fairly insubstantial - and finished it as fast as I could.  

Ostensibly it's some sort of arch Office meets twisted fantasy story mashup, but it's mostly an excuse for the author to attempt to be funny via anachronisms, i.e. the villain has a department of interns and a woman who runs HR, and a everyone drinks "cauldron brew" aka coffee. The thinly veiled references to modern office bureaucracy didn't amuse me though, all it did was heighten the bizarre mental gymnastics you have to do in order to accept that our heroine isn't a massive idiot. 

So the Villain is, obviously, going to be totally misunderstood and actually not a bad guy, right? I mean, a love story between psychopaths is clearly not what the author's intending here. But immediately after the prologue in which Evie gets the job offer, she finds three severed heads - actual human heads - on her desk, and she mentions a "test" when the Villain left a whole ass dead person in her desk to see how she'd react. And she's like, "It's FINE! I'm sure those people deserved it!" Like, what?? That's not fine in the context either of a fantasy world or an office job! Here's a quote that I think is meant to come across as flirty? Sexy? I have no words:

 

'I would, you know. Torture someone,' she clarified, an alarming sincerity on her face. 'If I knew it would help you-- if it was someone hurting you...I'd do it and I'd probably enjoy it just a little.' With that, she spun on her heel, her sunny dress offsetting the weight of her words.

Girl, get your head on straight. 

If you want to read a book in which the villain is actually a misunderstood hero who doesn't just murder people and leave parts around for their ostensible secretaries to find (which, let's be clear, is upsetting and gross behavior) then read Nimona instead. That's a great take on the villain/hero idea. Or if you want to read about someone who works for a villain and actually becomes villainous themself, try Hench. That's an interesting take on what being evil means. Assistant to the Villain is neither of these. In fact, it is merely a mess.  

Lest we ever get the wrong idea about the Villain, it's made clear that he's incredibly HOT and SEXY and Evie would do him in a minute. So it's okay that she also thinks he kills people for fun. Because all can be forgiven if you're hot and wear v-necks, apparently. And look, Evie can boink who she wants. But it's all treated like just another ho-hum meet cute, and it just makes you doubt her mental acuity. It's not like she's like, oh, I'm sure he's innocent! Instead her biggest hangup is that she thinks he doesn't like her that way. Which clearly he does, because he even thinks her dumb comments about finding the mole are super insightful. Here, I highlighted it because it was so obnoxiously pandering, this is after they're talking about why he doesn't just torture all his employees to find the mole:

'And you know if the traitor finds out you're looking for them, they'll inform the person they're answering to. You want to take them by surprise, too.'

He couldn't catch the drop of his jaw in time. 'You - Yes, that's exactly it.'

This is a jaw-dropping revelation? Genius. No one else could have come up with some primo A to B reasoning like that. Which, again, just makes it irritating that we're supposed to pretend she's smart, but she can't even figure out that this guy likes her. The everybody-knows-we-like-each-other-except-us! trope is so middle school.

So this guy, (who again, is both supposedly a villain and also her boss) thinks the sun shines out of her ass and they run around trying to find out who the spy is on the inside ruining the Villain's plans. Except of course, it's Evie herself, accidentally using some sort of magical ink which writes everything down in duplicate, and feeding stuff to her father who secretly IS some kind of psycho, since he fakes a whole life-threatening illness, lets his daughter think they're destitute in order to keep up the facade, and then tries to sell her to the blacksmith so she stops bugging him at home. He also plants a bomb like fifteen feet from her desk, and somehow (this may have been explained, but let's be honest, I was not giving this my full attention) lets a poison-spitting monster out to terrorize a house party. 

 

Oh, and about that the aforementioned house party: Evie gets an invitation, meets up with her coworkers who all agree that it's a trap, they GO ANYWAY, Evie talks them out of letting the Villain know they've all been suckered into this stupid trap, then when Evie realizes that as a result of this decision, the Villain has to talk briefly with his father, she RUNS AWAY because THAT is worthy of the dramatic flounce, apparently. And when the Villain catches up to her instead of talking about plans to address the obvious TRAP, they... have a slow dance. Until the poison-spitting monster shows up, of course. At every possible point, our two main characters choose the option which makes the least rational sense. 

Whatever, they deserve each other. Let's cross this one of the list and thank our lucky stars we don't have to read any more about them.

****

These didn't really fit into my review, but here are some more passages I highlighted in anger:

Granted, she didn't want to become evil, but when you spend most of your life trying to see the sun, you begin to wish for rain.

What the fuck does this mean? 

 

This is when she thinks she's dying:

 A different face flashed in her mind - her boss, The Villain. Evie couldn't believe she was leaving him when he needed her most. Who would make him begrudgingly smile now?

Evie is a clown, so I guess it's fitting that her last thoughts are about making people smile. 

This is when she and the Villain head back to her house, and by the way, this is like, months after she started working for him:

The yellow tulips lining the front walk looked odd from her current position: being in a carriage...belonging to a glorified murderer.

First of all, I think we can drop the "glorified". He a for real murderer. Second, why is this suddenly weird? Did it take being in a carriage to realize you had flowers at your house?

26: A Book Where An Adult Character Changes Careers

Let It All Burn

 Let It All Burn 

By  Denise Grover Swank

Darcie Weatherby of Perry's Fall, Ohio has a preteen, sixteen-year-old twins, a wayward grandmother, a nightmare boss, a manipulative ex-husband, and hot flashes that start fires like the one that burned her boss's house down. Unless she figures out a way to get things under control, there's a chance she'll spontaneously combust at the Founder's Day Masquerade Ball.

I don't know what the heck THAT was. It started out normal enough, a woman having hot flashes accidentally starts fires, okay, okay, okay, some magical realism, sure, gotcha, and then at the like, 90% mark, we take an abrupt right turn into millennials-long guardianship over a Greek goddess who gets reincarnated every fifty years (and a somehow completely unrelated side plot about diamond smuggling). What the fuck?

The basic idea is fine, but Swank can't stop adding weirder and weirder parts that don't add anything and don't make sense, like the FBI agent who first meets Darcie while he's investigating this diamond thing, but then becomes intensely interested in her to the point of following her around and demanding answers like a crazed stalker.  And she doesn't have any answers! 

Or the part where Darcie's cousin Ella is an investigative reporter and we think there's going to be some big reveal about the Mayor or that Ella is going to find out what's going on with Darcie's firepowers but instead of any of that panning out, instead at the grand gala there's a lengthy digression about Ella acting drunk because of an allergic reaction, and she winds up spending the fateful event on a cot. 

The ending and explanation come out of nowhere and the book wraps up with all kinds of loose ends flapping in the breeze, like how Darcie will incorporate a fourth child in to her family (and what her current kids will think of that) whether it's noted that Tammy just up and disappeared, like, just... anything! Any of it! Even the parts that are explained are explained in a really baffling way. What is this stupid bargain Persephone made, and why does it reset every fifty years? Why does it make the gods mad? What happens when it ends? Why, why why?? It was like Swank couldn't figure out how to wrap it up so just added in some god stuff. It would have been better if Darcie was just becoming a fire demon, like her friend suggested.

However, prior to that point, it was a decent read. Darcie's nicely fleshed out, her friends and kids are fun and there's space there for an interesting story about her growing into herself in this new phase of her life. But we... got something else instead, so I'm just going to slowly back away. 

09: A Book That Features A Character Going Through Menopause

You Are Here

You Are Here 

By David Nicholls

Michael is coming undone. Adrift after his wife's departure, he has begun taking himself on long, solitary walks across the English countryside. Becoming ever more reclusive, he’ll do anything to avoid his empty house.

Marnie, on the other hand, is stuck. Hiding alone in her London flat, she avoids old friends and any reminders of her rotten, selfish ex-husband. Curled up with a good book, she’s battling the long afternoons of a life that feels like it’s passing her by.

When a persistent mutual friend and some very unpredictable weather conspire to toss Michael and Marnie together on the most epic of ten-day hikes, neither of them can think of anything worse. Until, of course, they discover exactly what they’ve been looking for.

Michael and Marnie are on the precipice of a bright future . . . if they can survive the journey.

This was a charming palate cleanser after a couple of not great books, if by charming, you mean, "one of those books which talks about why marriages fail for the most depressing of reasons and it makes you worry about the state of your own union." Not that it did that... much, but reading about second chance romance always makes me feel like there's a target on my back: do the reasons the heroine's first relationship failed sound eerily similar to my life? Is my marriage happier - all the time or on average at least - than that of our hero and his first love?

I don't think I ever had that problem as a younger person, when a poor fit just meant you hadn't met the right person yet, but it bothers me now to read about marriages when both people intend and want the best, and love each other, and then gradually fall out of love. It's a scary presentiment of one potential future which terrifies in its banality and familiarity. 'It could happen to you!' goes the jingle about winning the lottery, but in an awful way, not at all desirable.

Luckily we spend more time developing Marnie and Michael's relationship than dwelling on mistakes of the past. Nicholls does a wonderful job writing conversations which feel realistic, especially for people just beginning to know each other, and possibly to feel more for each other: jokey, arch, tentative, short, building on the bases that the other lays out. Although we take their viewpoints in turn, and (which is often the case) the views are not so distinctive that you would immediately know who is narrating - again, something that only became more important to me when I saw how perfectly it could be executed in The Feast of the Goat - there's an apt comfort in the similarities, that they are compatible in their minds and feelings. You have to believe in their chemistry in order for the book to work, and you do.

It's also nice to read about a relationship which seems reasonable in its pacing: insta-love and immediate sexual attraction, as amusing as it is to picture on the page, seems shallow and fake compared to the slow unfolding of a person that happens more often in life. Ten days of constant company and you could start thinking about being in love. 

This is a romance, but it's written by a man and contains no actual sex, so it gets shelved in fiction and is taken seriously. But the heart of the story, in fact, the only part of the story, is the gradual opening up these two lonely people do so they can fall in love with each other. The ending tries too hard to distance itself from that premise: we leave off on the lovers tentatively planning to reunite, optimistic but early days yet. Just lean into it! Let's skip another year into the future and have them moved in together with a miracle baby on the way! You made us like these people, now let's see them get the happy ending they're longing for! 

Aside from anything else, I predict an increase in through hikes in the few years. I happen to like the idea of walking endlessly just to look at nature (whilst still enjoying a real bath and bed every night) but even those naturally opposed to the idea will find some inspiration here, I think. Nicholls manages to make even rainy misery sound like an adventure, and I suppose, with the right person, it is. Which is the whole point. 

42: A Book That Starts With The Letter Y

Lady Eve's Last Con

Lady Eve's Last Con

By Rebecca Fraimow

Ruth Johnson and her sister Jules have been small-time hustlers on the interstellar cruise lines for years. But then Jules fell in love with one of their targets, Esteban Mendez-Yuki, sole heir to the family insurance fortune. Esteban seemed to love her too, until she told him who she really was, at which point he fled without a word.

Now Ruth is set on disguised as provincial debutante Evelyn Ojukwu and set for the swanky satellite New Monte, she’s going to make Esteban fall in love with her, then break his heart and take half his fortune. At least, that's the plan. But Ruth hadn't accounted for his younger sister, Sol, a brilliant mind in a dashing suit... and much harder to fool.

Sol is hot on Ruth's tail, and as the two women learn each other’s tricks, Ruth must decide between going after the money and going after her heart.

Well, I had high hopes for this one: a madcap story in space about a con artist looking for revenge? Sign me up! But as other reviews state, the problem is that for a screwball comedy to work, you've got to be rushed along at a pace too fast to look around you. The minute the train slows down you're dead in the water, so to speak. And if you couldn't tell already, this story got slooooooow.

It's probably about a hundred pages longer than it needs to be. Every time we get some action, we spend another ten pages of Ruthi's internal monologue about the setting, or going over details about the back and forth machinations with Sol, or the local gang,  that just bog things down. 

I'm not dinging Fraimow (much) - this kind of storytelling is hard. But you've got to be much more streamlined about it than she is here. Connie Willis is the epitome of space screwball comedy and even she gets it wrong sometimes (let's not speak of her most recent effort, The Road to Roswell). But there needs to be a zingy tension that pulls the reader through it all, and instead, I found myself putting this down multiple times, having to force myself to finish it. 

It doesn't help that we spend more time with just Sol and Ruthi than we do in groups, and that they show their hands to each other in the first third of the book. Part of what's needed is more undercurrents, like conversations where Sol and Ruthi are trying to catch each other out but can't reveal their own cards in front of other people. Instead, after a big confrontation on the beach satellite, we... um, wander around the lower decks talking about frozen ducks and Sol's poor half-siblings, on a weird pseudo date.  

I think part of the problem is that it feels like Fraimow is setting this up for more installments. The classic version requires all storylines to be wrapped up tightly, preferably with all couples reunited, all bad guys punished, and all ventures successful. We don't get that. Instead Jules is in limbo, four months pregnant and refusing to marry Esteban. We don't see the result of the ruse on Alfonso at all and presumably the gang will be after them again in subsequent books. And there's no real resolution about the frickin kosher ducks, which is the whole device on which the plot spins: what the golden girl did to get herself in so deep with the mob that she's tempted to wipe her memory and it's wrapped up off-screen.

So instead of that feeling you get when you press the button on a tape measure and it all comes whizzing back into your hand and closing with a satisfying catch, it's like we threw a yoyo out and now it's just on the ground flaccid and we gotta spool it back up ourselves.

There's a lot of promise here, a lot of good things, like the characters and the setting, and the pitter patter and well, everything else is fine. It's just the pace, the tempo, but for something like this, that's everything.

 

 03: A Book About Space Tourism

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gatsby

By F. Scott Fitzgerald 

Set in during the Roaring Twenties, this masterful story by F. Scott Fitzgerald is told through the eyes of Nick Carraway, a young man who moves to Long Island and attempts to learn the bond business in New York City after the war. There, he co-mingles on Long Island with his affluent and wealthy socialite cousin Daisy Buchanan, her brute of a husband Tom, and friend Jordan Baker.

Nick's new residence sits across the bay from Daisy and Tom's house, and right next to a mysterious mansion. He begins to hear rumors of an infamous man named Gatsby who resides there. Eventually, when Gatsby learns of Nick's ties to Daisy, he extends Nick an invitation to one of his lavish parties. Gatsby's plan to court Daisy, in an attempt to revive a previous love affair, eventually bubbles to the surface and tragedy ensues.

Brief aside: Do you know how hard it is to find a reasonable description of a so-called "classic" book? Everyone just describes the accolades rather than the plot. c.f. "Amidst extravagant parties and societal excess, Fitzgerald weaves a narrative of love, betrayal, and the dark undercurrents of the Jazz Age. Through vivid prose and complex characters, the novel explores themes of disillusionment, class divide, and the relentless pursuit of an idealized past. With its timeless exploration of human desires and the consequences of unchecked ambition, ""The Great Gatsby"" remains a literary masterpiece that resonates across generations." blah blah blah.

 

As a counterpoint though, my library had this to say about the book's description, transcribed in its entirety: 

 

"Nick Carraway meets Jay Gatsby, a young millionaire with shady business connections and who is love with Daisy Buchanan, Nick's cousin." 

 

I love that this basically says: "We all know you're going to read this book regardless of what it's about, let's not pretend we have to intrigue you with jacket copy."

***

Ah, one of those classics that was written by men about the American Dream in which everything is a symbol and life is meaningless! Women are unfathomable, men are noble, or brutes, or dogs, and we all learn a Very Important Lesson, like an afternoon tv special. 

I liked the first chapter, but as we get introduced to all the characters, none of them, or it, appealed, so that by the end, Daisy's decision to stay with Tom was as boring to me as what color dress she planned to wear, and Jay's death didn't feel tragic so much as exhausting.  

As Nick, the narrator says, they're all terrible people, and not even in interesting ways. They're terrible in terribly boring ways. I can understand why the book was a failure when it came out, and why it became popular by soldiers in WWII: it appeals to a man's sense of thinking they're deeper and more philosophical than they are. It's easy enough for most people to read and understand while giving the impression of importance and intelligence when you tell people you've read it.

It's short enough to get through quickly, a mark in its favor. I was struck by how literate it was. Just the style and vocabulary that would have commonplace in the 1920s feels ornate and antiquated now, even though it would be hard to point to any one sentence and say it couldn't have been written today. It does make you feel that people, on the whole, are becoming much stupider.

 

There's a musing cadence to the story which infuriated me. Not only the dreaded navel-gazing but the absolute mush of a main character. There's absolutely no point to Nick at all, may as well have had an omniscient narrator. For all he complains about the wealthy, careless folks he meets here, he has absolutely no curiosity about any of the non-white or non-wealthy characters.

I suppose I'm glad to have read it, as now I never will have to again.  

April 9, 2025 

edited to add:

 

Since, apparently, it is also the 100th anniversary of its publication (which I was not aware of when I chose to read it, but how serendipitous!) there's a few articles being published about it. I appreciate the other perspectives and thoughts as well.  I found the theory, newly re-circulating, that Gatsby can be read as a black man passing as white to be intriguing, adding another layer of interest and subtext to the primary story. I also saw a lot of people comparing it to The White Lotus, as today's version of the rich and careless American.  I found that interesting, since I've enjoyed The White Lotus but my watch experience bears out the same lack of patience I had for the characters in The Great Gatsby: without fail, I will watch the first several episodes with interest, then find myself getting bored halfway through the season. I hate not to know what happens though, so I'll read spoilers and become interested enough to go back and watch the last episodes for the relevant story-lines and fast-forward through everything else. So at least I'm consistent.

39: A Classic You've Never Read

Double Header: Duck Duck Taco Truck & Mabuhay!

Duck Duck Taco Truck 

By Laura Levoie and Teresa Martinez

"Duck. Duck. Taco truck. Working hard to make a buck."

Two food trucks staffed by sworn enemies: ducks vs. geese. Before you can say "curly fries", these two rivals are in an epic food truck face-off. "Battle on! At dawn, we ride!"

But soon, Goose becomes overwhelmed by hangry crowds. He sure could use some extra wings to help out! Will these foes find a solution and become feathered friends?

This clever, high-energy, taco tale, packed with bright art featuring kids' favorite foods, shows young readers how cooperation and teamwork can overcome conflict. It's a superbly silly summer story, the perfect pick for taco and truck fans.

Mabuhay!

By Zachary Sterling

Can two kids save the world and work their family food truck?

First-generation Filipino siblings JJ and Althea struggle to belong at school. JJ wants to fit in with the crowd, while Althea wants to be accepted as she is. To make matters worse, they have to help their parents run the family food truck by dressing up as a dancing pig and passing out samples. Ugh! And their mom is always pointing out lessons from Filipino folklore -- annoying tales they've heard again and again. But when witches, ogres, and other creatures from those same stories threaten their family, JJ and Althea realize that the folklore may be more real that they'd suspected. Can they embrace who they really are and save their family?

It seemed a little skimpy to use one illustrated kid's book as a prompt, so instead I used two! Duck Duck Taco Truck is a picture book for the 2-4 crowd, which is who I read it to. It wasn't an instant hit there, but I enjoyed it at least.

For me, the key to enjoying reading kids books for toddlers is that they need to be at least a little bit smart. Good rhythm is important (one of my recent favorites to read is The Seven Silly Eaters), although rhyming isn't essential (we also enjoy a good Marianne Dubuc story), decent illustration and compelling story. It doesn't have to be complicated, and in fact that sometimes hurts the experience. Very little actually happens in the evergreen Blueberries for Sal, but what does happen is beautiful.

All that is to say, the unexpected resolution of Duck Duck Taco Truck charmed me. I thought for sure it would be a great battle in which the taco ducks emerge victorious over goose, but this was better, a little bit kinder, even if I think the revised food combos sounded grosser than the original offerings. It's not a perennial classic, but I won't mind reading it a few more times.

Mabuhay! is a graphic novel for older kids, maybe the 8-10 year olds. It's a good little book, even if (like Duck Duck Taco Truck) it doesn't meet the high standard of similar books (here I'm thinking of Vera Brosgol's oeuvre).

There's good elements in it, characters, setting and illustrations, but I do think the shift to a supernatural battle would have been better served if it had been a longer book. The coming of age story alone would be fine in something this size, but once the paranormal element was brought in, it felt like we just got sidelined character development in order to rush through the plot. The revelations the kids have in the third act feel less important in light of the battle for light over darkness. 

That's probably why all my favorite parts are in the first half: Tito Arvin is great whenever he appears, the video game all-nighter with JJ, Althea, and Victor is hilariously accurate, and the side stories about Juan Tamad and Pinya are fun digressions. But having Juan be the one to tell JJ that being yourself is best feels like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Like it was shoehorned in because someone needed to do it and otherwise there was no point to Juan. There also didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason for the magical powers that JJ and Althea developed: why did the unathletic kid get martial arts weapons?

Of course, the book doesn't stint on the most important part (especially a book about food trucks): descriptions of food, including a recipe for chicken adobo in the back. That would have been real cause for complaint. Mabuhay!

 

29: A Book About A Food Truck

Mistress of Rome

Mistress of Rome
By Kate Quinn

Thea, a captive from Judaea, is a clever and determined survivor hiding behind a slave’s docile mask. Purchased as a toy for the spoiled heiress Lepida Pollia, Thea evades her mistress’s spite and hones a secret passion for music. But when Thea wins the love of Rome’s newest and most savage gladiator and dares to dream of a better life, the jealous Lepida tears the lovers apart and casts Thea out.

Rome offers many ways for the resourceful to survive, and Thea remakes herself as a singer for the Eternal ’City’s glittering aristocrats. As she struggles for success and independence, her nightingale voice attracts a dangerous new admirer: the Emperor himself. But the passions of an all-powerful man come with a heavy price, and Thea finds herself fighting for both her soul and her destiny.

Many have tried to destroy the Emperor: a vengeful gladiator, an upright senator, a tormented soldier, a Vestal Virgin. But in the end, the life of Rome’s most powerful man lies in the hands of one woman: the Emperor’s mistress.

Ah, Mistress of Rome: A Series of Unfortunate Events.  It sounds weird coming from someone who just read The Feast of the Goat, but long stretches of Mistress of Rome feel like torture porn. Or tragedy porn or whatever the name is for it when the characters go through one miserable obstacle only to find themselves in front of another, higher, one. Over and over and over.

Part of that comes from two of the worst villains to grace the pages of historical fiction : Lepida Pollida, spoiled senator's daughter who is sex and power mad, and who kicks off her career by separating our lovers and selling Thea to a dockhouse brothel and then later upping the ante by seducing her husband's son and being mean to her epileptic daughter, and Domitian, the emperor, who is introduced as a potential rescuer of Thea only to turn out to be a torturer and abuser of women and slaves, including his own niece, Julia. Domitian, obviously, was a real person, and I sure hope he was as bad as all that because otherwise Quinn has sadly maligned his character here.

Quinn's writing, is, as usual, exemplary, breathless and urgent as she takes us back thousands of years to the Roman Empire. Having just read her most recently based, Briar Club, you can tell that Quinn revels in the historical details available from whatever period she's writing in. Here, being so much more in the distant past, she's not able to bring as much of that in, but there's still a wealth of ground to cover, as the book takes us from 82 ad to 96 ad.

The early sections skip great chunks of years at a time, and those are some of the harder ones to get through- our heroes just keep getting kicked when they're down, and much of the activity is just place setting for the final confrontations that take place in 95-96. By the time our heroes emerge triumphant over the villains, I was mostly just tired and wanted it over with.

Quinn's talent shines when you consider that the whole book hinges on the relationship of a couple who have a few months together fourteen years before most of the action takes place - and the couple is separated most of that time.  We have to both believe in the relationship and care about it, and Quinn manages to do that, for me at least, although Vix, the erstwhile scamp born to Thea, mostly bugs instead of endears. He becomes a primary character later in the series, which doesn't tempt me to read them.

There's a supernatural thread running through the book as well: a soothsayer who is eerily accurate, some characters who escape certain death because of the implied favor of the gods, the mysterious healing powers of gladiator blood. It lets us suspend disbelief on some of the more unlikely plot points Quinn inserts (a gladiator who only loses ONCE in eight years?? somehow everyone keeps winding up at the same places together??).

It's odd to me, that although this and The Feast of the Goat both concern fictionalized re-tellings of famously assassinated dictators (and include invented women characters who were abused by them) they feel very different. Quinn's books are comfortable reads because although some characters do get sacrificed (I won't forget you, Hercules!) she tends to leave readers on a optimistic note: Domitian's death ushered - in real life - almost ninety years of Roman prosperity.  Our core couple, reunited at last, retires to the country. Marcus, the poor beleaguered husband, gets a new wife who likes him. Whereas in The Feast of the Goat, the assassination brings not relief but torture. Thirty years on, citizens have forgotten the horrors of the regime, and reminisce for better days. Quinn doesn't trade in that kind of punchline. But the cynic in me sometimes wishes she would.

06: A Book That Fills Your Favorite Prompt From The 2015 PS Reading Challenge [13: Set In Another Country]

Broken (in the best possible way)

Broken (in the best possible way)

By Jenny Lawson

As Jenny Lawson’s hundreds of thousands of fans know, she suffers from depression. In Broken, Jenny brings readers along on her mental and physical health journey, offering heartbreaking and hilarious anecdotes along the way.

With people experiencing anxiety and depression now more than ever, Jenny humanizes what we all face in an all-too-real way, reassuring us that we’re not alone and making us laugh while doing it. From the business ideas that she wants to pitch to Shark Tank to the reason why Jenny can never go back to the post office, Broken leaves nothing to the imagination in the most satisfying way. And of course, Jenny’s long-suffering husband Victor―the Ricky to Jenny’s Lucille Ball―is present throughout.

Reading Broken is like looking through glasses with the wrong prescription: at first it's funny to see how weird everything looks, but after a while it just gives you a headache.  Lawson is funny in smaller doses (hence the success of her blog, and why so many of the chapters are written like blog entries) but the constant digressions and look-at-the-outrageous-hijinks-I-just-manage-to-fall-into-because-I-have-funny-anxiety-like-Larry-David style forced humor is wearying. 

Luckily, or unluckily, as it happens, the anecdotal stories are interspersed with chapters on various medical maladies Lawson suffers from, which are interesting, at least, even if the diatribe on her insurance problems goes on for way too long. And obviously, you could argue that the length of the diatribe is the result of her insurers actions, not hers, but still, there's a point at which this is basically masturbation, not art. 

I sound grumpy and it's probably harsher than necessary, but although I've found Lawson occasionally amusing in the past, it does feel like her tragicomic theatrics are worn out in this book. Maybe I'm just older and more risible. Maybe I'm expecting everyone to have aged just like me, into a sedate curmudgeonly attitude that doesn't find the mere idea of little plastic penises hilarious.

If you read and like her blog, I assume you will like this book. For better and for worse, it's all just more of the same.

 

34: A Book Written By An Author Who Is Neurodivergent

The Briar Club

The Briar Club

By Kate Quinn

Washington, DC, 1950. Everyone keeps to themselves at Briarwood House, a down-at-the-heels all-female boardinghouse in the heart of the nation’s capital where secrets hide behind white picket fences. But when the lovely, mysterious widow Grace March moves into the attic room, she draws her oddball collection of neighbors into unlikely friendship: poised English beauty Fliss, whose facade of perfect wife and mother covers gaping inner wounds; policeman’s daughter Nora, who finds herself entangled with a shadowy gangster; frustrated baseball star Beatrice, whose career has come to an end along with the women’s baseball league of WWII; and poisonous, gung-ho Arlene, who has thrown herself into McCarthy’s Red Scare.

Grace’s weekly attic-room dinner parties and window-brewed sun tea become a healing balm on all their lives, but she hides a terrible secret of her own. When a shocking act of violence tears the house apart, the Briar Club women must decide once and for all: who is the true enemy in their midst?

I've had this on my hold list for probably seven or eight months at least, patiently waiting my turn. At this point, Kate Quinn is now one of those authors of whom each new release will be guaranteed a spot on my reading agenda.  Although the blurb didn't exactly grab me - a far cry from her books on WWII spies, codebreakers, and other assorted heroines - it still ended up carrying her trademark: secrets, women, and yes, ultimately, spies.  

It's also stuffed full with a panoply of 50s historical references and side plots. There's almost too much going on, between the birth control pill, gangsters, segregation, the Korean War, modern art, the All American Women's Baseball League, gay rights, and the ever looming spectre of McCarthyism. Not to mention the recipes, for everything from swedish meatballs to honey cake. Quinn does post a lengthy author's note at the end describing some of the real stories behind her fictional ones. The breadth of the historical detail is astonishing at times - there's a scene involving a real dessert called Candle Salad that makes you wonder how Quinn managed to find such an offbeat but perfectly apropos recipe. The only one I wasn't at least a little familiar with was the invasion of Texas, Operation Longhorn, which is both so insane that it's hard to believe it's just a historical footnote now as well as perfectly believable given how nuts everyone else was.

The book is a little bit chunkier than her others: the framing structure involves a murder (or, at least, a dead body) and the police investigation of a Washington D.C. boarding house full of women. Most of it though, is lengthy chapters chronologically preceding and leading up to the murder, each focusing on the key characters and tenants of the house in turn: Pete, the landlord's son, Nora, the secretary and gangster's moll, Bea, the baseball player, Fliss, the English nurse drowning in motherhood, Reka, the former artist who narrowly escaped Germany only to find the American Dream not all it was promised, Claire, the gay pinup girl, and Grace, whose entrance starts the book, and who flits in and out of the others lives in a cross between a fairy godmother and puppet master.

There's certainly some things which, if you're familiar enough with the period (or, ahem, some relevant popular entertainment about the period) come as not-very-surprising surprises and the book itself feels much slower paced than her others, which is to be expected since it takes place over four and a half years. I assume Quinn kept the timeline that way for both historical accuracy as well as to give the relationships time to feel genuine growth, but it does make some things feel like they're being artificially set back, in order to have all the players at the table for the denouement (i.e. Nora reuniting with her boyfriend and Sid's planned escape both get delayed YEARS so they're all at the fatal dinner, plot wise). Those issues aside though, the book doesn't feel very slow, since each chapter concerns a mini crisis of sorts for its respective narrator. It would almost fit the series of interconnected stories prompt. I couldn't not use The Briar Club here though - the blurb literally mentions the unlikely friendships!

It also managed to make me feel somewhat optimistic about how things have trended in the US lately: if we can manage to get through all the shit the 50s pulled, perhaps there's hope for us as well. Overall, it was an enjoyable, if not necessarily demanding, read. I will continue to put my reading trust in Quinn. In fact, I have my eye on one of her older books to fill another prompt.

 

28: A Book That Features An Unlikely Friendship

The Terrible and Wonderful Reasons Why I Run Long Distances

The Terrible and Wonderful Reasons Why I Run Long Distances

By The Oatmeal (Matthew Inman)

This is not just a book about running. It's a book about cupcakes. It's a book about suffering.

It's a book about gluttony, vanity, bliss, electrical storms, ranch dressing, and Godzilla. It's a book about all the terrible and wonderful reasons we wake up each day and propel our bodies through rain, shine, heaven, and hell. 

From #1 New York Times best-selling author, Matthew Inman, AKA The Oatmeal, comes this hilarious, beautiful, poignant collection of comics and stories about running, eating, and one cartoonist's reasons for jogging across mountains until his toenails fall off.

This one was kind of a gimme, as it's not technically about a running club, but it is very much (except for the digression on Japanese murder hornets) about running. And I picked it up as I've started running again as well and thought it might be helpful, humorous, or thought provoking. Unfortunately, I don't think I would say it's any of those three, but it was easy enough to read and inoffensive.

I'd read, and reasonably enjoyed, the book he did on Why My Cat is More Impressive Than Your Baby, but this one wasn't nearly as amusing, probably intentionally. It ends up reading more like illustrated diary entries than comics. The best part is the story about the vending machine and the hornets, but there's no punchline, just an attempt to make sense of the force that drives us to run, and that's just not what I want from The Oatmeal. 

The good news is that it was very short and easy to read, so it's not like it was a waste of time. And fwiw, people I know who love his work were also chortling at this one too, so I think we'll just chalk this up to the wrong book at the wrong time.

 

17: A Book About A Run Club

The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King

The Ashes and the Star-Cursed King
By Carissa Broadbent

In the wake of the Kejari, everything Oraya once thought to be true has been destroyed. A prisoner in her own kingdom, grieving the only family she ever had, and reeling from a gutting betrayal, she no longer even knows the truth of her own blood. She’s left only with one certainty: she cannot trust anyone, least of all Raihn.

The House of Night, too, is surrounded by enemies. Raihn’s own nobles are none too eager to accept a Turned king, especially one who was once a slave. And the House of Blood digs their claws into the kingdom, threatening to tear it apart from the inside.

When Raihn offers Oraya a secret alliance, taking the deal is her only chance at reclaiming her kingdom–and gaining her vengeance against the lover who betrayed her. But to do so, she’ll need to harness a devastating ancient power, intertwined with her father’s greatest secrets.

But with enemies closing in on all sides, nothing is as it seems. As she unravels her past and faces her future, Oraya finds herself forced to choose between the bloody reality of seizing power – and the devastating love that could be her downfall.

Finally finished! This wasn't agonizingly slow, like Curious Tides, but nor was it zippy and short like Beneath the Star Cursed Skies. In retrospect I don't know that it was worth the effort, but the previous book ended on SUCH a hook, and it came so fast from the library, that I couldn't resist, and, since we're talking about PopSugar now, I feel like I can't just stop books halfway through when I'm bored, the way I've been doing more and more often lately.

It's fine. It's fine! I really shouldn't complain, I could have simply stopped at the first one, but, like I said, the revelation that they had to get married! To a former love who has betrayed them! was like trope catnip. Alas, while it makes the most sense for plot and characterization that the hatred only lasts about, oh, 15% of the way into the book, and then it turns to lusting and banging, I was really hoping for more angst.  Angst with a capital A!

This book is all about mood. Everything is dark and seductive, fire flashes in people's eyes, the glimpse of a city from far away is all ancient beauty, yada yada yada.  What ashes and star-cursed king are we talking about? Who knows, baby, it's all about the mood. The first book was all about rising to power and this second one is all about holding on to it through, gosh, at least two, if not three attempted coups. We gently gloss over torture and the hunting down of rebels. At the end, Oraya and Raihn unite the two vampire tribes who have been warring for thousands of years (because they have an unbreakable bond now! Everyone else gets to forget aeons of historically founded hatred and opposition. And I guess humans are living peacefully with the vamps now too, even though they are literally vampire food. Whatever! Oraya has wings now and that's super cool!), they bang a lot, and we leave the book having nicely set up the next duology, featuring Mishe and her trauma dump. 

I know it sounds like I didn't like the book, but I didn't hate it, I just... once again, am finding these romantastic stories of tyrants overthrown to be childish and sanitized in the wake of The Feast of the Goat, and that's obviously a me problem more than a book problem, but the stakes just never felt high. Admit it: was there ever a point at which you, dear reader, thought that either Oraya or Raihn might die? No matter how badly they are beaten (and they are crucified multiple times, not to mention both getting beaten by some sort of god-like avatar) they manage to heal themselves up just fine and come back to fight another day! Gosh! Vincent slaughtered thousands, if not millions of people, but in the end, he did love Oraya, so that's okay!

36: A Book With Silver On The Cover Or In The Title

Beneath These Cursed Stars

Beneath These Cursed Stars

By Lexi Ryan

Princess Jasalyn has a secret. Armed with an enchanted ring that gives her death’s kiss, Jas has been sneaking away from the palace at night to assassinate her enemies.

Shape-shifter Felicity needs a miracle. Fated to kill her magical father, she’s been using her unique ability to evade a fatal prophecy.

When rumors of evil king Mordeus’s resurrection spread through the shadow court, Jasalyn decides to end him once and for all. Felicity agrees to take the form of the princess, allowing Jas to covertly hunt Mordeus—and starting Felicity on the path that could finally take her home.

While Jasalyn teams up with the charming and handsome Kendrick, Felicity sets out to get closer to the Wild Fae king, Misha. Kendrick helps Jasalyn feel something other than anger for the first time in three years, and Misha makes Felicity wish for a world where she’s free to be her true self. Soon, the girls’ missions are at risk right alongside their hearts.

The future of the human and fae realms hangs in the balance as fates intertwine. Between perilous tasks, grim secrets, and forbidden romances, Jasalyn and Felicity find that perhaps their stars are the most cursed of all.

This was just what I needed as a palate cleanser after both The Feast of the Goat and Curious Tides. The first was way too heavy and the latter was way too slow, and this hit the sweet spot of being not too serious and a light, easy read.

Sidebar time: frankly any YA adjacent fantasy which involves despotic rulers feels so much more juvenile though, after reading The Feast of the Goat and all the real ways that people can be hurt and demoralized under a terrible regime. I happened to read two after The Feast of the Goat, and the feel so simplistic in how they treat tyranny. Tyrant=bad, resistance=good. Scars make you look tougher. PTSD is mostly nightmares that go away when you meet a hot guy. You've never given up on your humanity, and in the end all suffering is noble. I certainly don't think we need to get graphic in our fantasy, but it does add inauthenticity to the genre, which was already fantastical to start with.

Some reviews recommended reading this after the first duology in the world, These Hollow Vows and These Twisted Bonds.  Not only did I not realize this was set after a previous series and referencing the same characters, I also thought it was a standalone novel, and it very much is not.  So you could say I started with part 3 of 4. Nevertheless I was able to follow the storyline and setup decently well, although I did occasionally confuse the two female protagonists, which, since one is the princess and the other is pretending to be the princess, I don't take full responsibility for.

It's a good little book, moving quickly along, doesn't waste much times drawing out the central mystery of the resurrection of the aforementioned tyrant. The one thing that didn't make much sense, and is a critical plot point, so perhaps it will be explained in the next book, is why/how Felicity was inserted as the pretend princess without any apparent means for her to communicate updates to the rebels. She just had to wait for her contact to show up? Seems kinda like a problem waiting to happen, especially when they keep alluding to their spies on the inside.

The romances, while admittedly, ridiculously sudden and convenient, were both written well enough to get you to suspend disbelief and I appreciated the plotting behind both couples' splits- Felicity's was almost guaranteed as a result of her impersonation, but the idea of Kendrick being in cahoots with the tyrant was something I was surprised by, yet also felt pretty organic from the prior plots, so kudos on that. None of the weird sword/portal thing made much sense though, but it didn't bother me excessively since it was pretty obviously just there as a Macguffin.

I enjoyed it enough to consider seeking out the first duology and am kicking myself for reading a book which ends on such a cliffhanger when the next one won't be out for at least six months. We leave both Felicity and Jasalyn in danger, Felicity in King Misha's dungeons, at his mercy for having betrayed him twice over - once for impersonating the princess and the second time for impersonating Felicity, i.e., the woman who he's seen in his dreams (of course), and Jasalyn setting out for the Macguffin on foot by herself, feeling betrayed by Kendrick in her turn, for his having lied to her about his reasons for being in the dungeon to begin with (not to mention his long-lost fiance, who (of course) will make another appearance in the next book, I'm sure. There's not much mystery about the plot beats, but Ryan does a decent job with it notwithstanding. I will say that now I've gone back and read the first book in the series (well, the excerpt, anyway) and it is startling how different Jasalyn comes across. Is it wrong to say I prefer the depressed, killer version instead of the stupidly optimistic one?

18: A Book Containing Magical Creatures That Aren't Dragons

Curious Tides

Curious Tides 

By Pascale Lacelle

Emory might be a student at the prestigious Aldryn College for Lunar Magics, but her healing abilities have always been mediocre at best—until a treacherous night in the Dovermere sea caves leaves a group of her classmates dead and her as the only survivor. Now Emory is plagued by strange, impossible powers that no healer should possess.

Powers that would ruin her life if the wrong person were to discover them.

To gain control of these new abilities, Emory enlists the help of the school’s most reclusive student, Baz—a boy already well-versed in the deadly nature of darker magic, whose sister happened to be one of the drowned students and Emory’s best friend. Determined to find the truth behind the drownings and the cult-like secret society she’s convinced her classmates were involved in, Emory is faced with even more questions when the supposedly drowned students start washing ashore— alive —only for them each immediately to die horrible, magical deaths.

And Emory is not the only one seeking answers. When her new magic captures the society’s attention, she finds herself drawn into their world of privilege and power, all while wondering if the truth she’s searching for might lead her right back to Dovermere…to face the fate she was never meant to escape.

Curious Tides can be summed up in one word: it's boring. It was boring when I read the first few chapters, it was boring when I was halfway through, it was mildly interesting at the end, and when I finished it and read the teaser for the next book in the series, I found myself completely uninterested in following up. In fact, not only do I keep forgetting that I've finished it, I've been forgetting that I've read it at all. In fact, when I was writing this review, I kept typing the title as "Cursed Tides" because I was getting it confused with another book.

If you look through other reviews there's two common complaints: one, even by those who ended up liking it, is that it's very slow to start. I agree. Somehow the author has taken a scenario in which our protagonist washes up on shore with four dead bodies and made it ... uncompelling. 

Second, people find Emory, our ostensible hero, annoying. I also agree with this, and with the person who says Emory comes across super young, and possibly was aged up to 19 just so a sex scene could be included (although I have no idea why, since that was also boring to read). Emory is the kind of person who somehow inherits a mysterious power that we're told is incredibly dangerous and could lead to her destruction and the death of other around her, like a bomb, and when her friend Baz, whom she's harassed into helping train her surreptitiously, tells her to call it a night, she tells him he's being too cautious and she just starts using it willy-nilly. And it's all okay! Absolutely nothing happens as a result of this idiotic decision. She won't tell Baz crucial information about that night, but shares everything with Kieran, because he...keeps looking at her meaningfully, I guess.

I don't know if Emory was meant to be as annoying as she was, but she consistently uses Baz (and his crush on her) to get him to do things for her, she beelines for this secret society despite secret societies always being bad news, falls hard for this Kieran kid who is clearly using her, assumes her 'friend' Penelope has ratted on her to the dean even though Penelope literally knows nothing, MOPES about every damn thing, even the fact that her best friend got invited to this secret society and didn't tell her, like she isn't doing the exact same damn thing, and at no point is she written like these are the actions of an asshole. Does she get an indefinite pass because her friend disappeared after doing a stupid ritual for a secret society? Because Romie was Baz's sister and he didn't come across as an asshole. It's like the author has to have Emory do all this for the book's plot, but then didn't want to have her be an antihero, so instead we all have to pretend her actions are forgiveable.

The third thing I didn't like about the book, which wasn't necessarily something others agreed with me on, was the magic system.  Lacelle sets it up with four moons (full, waxing, waning, and new) and each of these has like four "specialties", like soultending and wardcrafting and purifying and lightkeeping and dreaming and unraveling and memorists and reaping and amplifying and wordsmiths and sowing and glamouring and darkbearing and shadow guiding and healers and seers, and then there's also eclipses which also have separate powers and now we're at, like 20+ random powers (and which is which and who is what are RELEVANT to the plot, so you gotta try to remember all this shit) PLUS there's some fairy tale book about the powers being taken over by shadow which is also important except that it was introduced in the first chapter with all this other stuff and I promptly forgot. So the whole villain's motivation is like, making a path between worlds and undoing stuff about the four original moon gods, but none of it ever made much sense to me. There's tides and water magic and fake magic that comes from siphoned off stuff from people who have Collapsed, but also apparently after you collapse you're super strong but this is a complete secret. Anyway, there was a lot to keep straight and I had no interest in doing so.

What else can I say? It's already forgotten.

16: A Book Set In Or Around A Body Of Water

The Feast of the Goat

The Feast of the Goat

By Mario Vargas Llosa

Haunted all her life by feelings of terror and emptiness, forty-nine-year-old Urania Cabral returns to her native Dominican Republic - and finds herself reliving the events of l961, when the capital was still called Trujillo City and one old man terrorized a nation of three million. Rafael Trujillo, the depraved ailing dictator whom Dominicans call the Goat, controls his inner circle with a combination of violence and blackmail. In Trujillo's gaudy palace, treachery and cowardice have become a way of life. But Trujillo's grasp is slipping. There is a conspiracy against him, and a Machiavellian revolution already underway that will have bloody consequences of its own.

You can tell the book is written by an expert. Despite the heavy (and at times excruciating - the rape of a pre-teen seems mild in comparison to some of the horrors described) material you are kept rapt, pressing on to the inevitable conclusion. The book deals in turn with three storylines: Urania, a woman returning to the country after 35 years, who comes to reckon with the past and her family's involvement with the regime (wholly invented by Vargas Llosa), a collection of collaborationists, traitors and conspirators, waiting to assassinate the dictator (real people fictionalized), and the dictator himself, Trujillo, on what will become the last day of his life (also, obviously real but fictionalized). There's multiple flashbacks in each story-line and, especially in Urania's story-line, the text will switch abruptly between present and past conversations with no noticeable delineation. This is used more heavily in the later chapters, when we have a better understanding of all the players and plots, but it's still not an easy book to read.

Since it's not entirely fictional, there's a need to include certain prominent figures, even though it can complicate and confuse the reader. There's seven conspirators waiting for the car, and more who are waiting in the wings. There's multiple government officials and hangers on. All of these people are known to each other and in some cases are brothers, cousins, uncles and nephews. The sections involving Urania's story are relatively contained in comparison: her, her father, aunt, cousins, and a nurse, all of whom are made up, are the only characters in the present. Although I managed to keep most of the large cast straight, I did struggle, particularly in the last few chapters, at the culmination of the assassination, when the scope of the plan widened and the ripple effects began to be seen.

It's also interesting to note that although the beginning of the book takes each of the three story-lines in turn, around chapter 19, when we leave Urania waiting to be delivered to the belly of the beast, several chapters in a row focus more on the immediate and long term period after the assassination, and Vargas Llosa instead slots in the finale to Urania's story as the very last chapter. It's both out of order and interestingly, Urania's last chapter follows the "Balaguer chapter" which ends, somewhat optimistically, with the removal of the Trujillo family from the country and the pardoning of the living conspirators - they literally walk into Balaguer's open, welcoming arms. Balaguer's chapter is also the last chronological moment before Urania comes back to the country 35 years later, which is the start of the book. As tempting as it might have been to leave it at Balaguer, Vargas Llosa instead returns us back to the scene of one of Trujillo's final, personal, petty crimes (albeit wholly fictional one), and reminds us that no matter the events to follow, the effect of the regime cannot and should be be forgotten - and in the character of Urania, physically unable to forget, as others in the book appear to have done. 

I think Vargas Llosa does an incredible job of setting us in the time and place, and in differentiating between the various narrators, which is something that can be hard for authors to do. Here, it's immediately apparent when Urania or Trujillo is narrating, although some of the assassins are not as easily distinguishable from each other. Although we know what happens to Trujillo (he was in fact, assassinated in May 1961) you anticipate the moment as a reader with some relief of anxiety and joy. After so much detail about the degradation and horrors that Trujillo presided over, you want Trujillo to be done, you want the assassins to succeed, and you know (as someone with access to Wikipedia) that they do. I don't know whether Vargas Llosa assumes knowledge of the outcome on the reader's part. Surely, as it become more and more distant past - it's already been 23 years since the book was first published - fewer and fewer readers can be expected to be familiar with what happens next. Certainly I didn't know, and didn't "spoil" myself. This section was the hardest for me to read, perhaps because it was so immediate, perhaps because it seemed so unjust for an action which should have been celebrated (and in fact was, if only they could have lived long enough to see it).  History is written by the victors.

In the end, I am left with only two questions, both of which come from Urania's fictional story-line, and which therefore the author has even more deliberately decided not to address overtly: Who hid the memo (if, in fact it was deliberately hidden) from Trujillo about Urania's departure? One reviewer attributes the memo's disappearance to Balaguer as a nod that no action of Balaguer is ever unconsidered, and states that it is a demonstration of Vargas Llosa's appreciation for him as a politician, by showing Balaguer's compassion in that (completely fictional) moment. That's a compelling argument. I did think that Balaguer, of all the characters, was probably the hardest to write about, given his outsized importance to the country later, and the fact that, at the time the book was written, he was still living and still actively involved in politics, despite his age and health. It is hard to judge the legacy of a living person.

My second question was about the ostracization of Cabral in the first place. Was it just a loyalty test, as Trujillo seems to allude to in one chapter, or was it designed with ulterior motives in mind? I also think it's interesting that Vargas Llosa so clearly lays out the torture and consequences for those in opposition to the regime in the later chapters. It adds more layers to Cabral's decision to pimp his daughter out, in his effort to appease the Generalissimo. There are real, and not imagined, consequences for angering that type of person.  In this case, the choice was fatal not only due to Trujillo's inability to perform and further angering him, but also being ultimately pointless given his assassination weeks later. But would there be a devil on the shoulder to say that, in the absence of that foresight, Cabral's choice was unreasonable? When you live in hell, what salve to conscience can you afford? "In this country, in one way or another, everyone had been, was, or would be part of the regime. 'The worst thing that can happen to a Dominican is to be intelligent or competent,' he had once heard Agustín Cabral say ...and the words had been etched in his mind: 'Because sooner or later Trujillo will call upon him to serve the regime, or his person, and when he calls, one is not permitted to say no.' Egghead was proof of this truth....As Estrella Sadhalá always said, the Goat had taken from people the sacred attribute given to them by God: their free will."

 It is possibly the best book I never want to read again.

 

21: A Book Where A Main Character Is A Policitician

 

Whiteout

Whiteout

By: Angie Thomas, Ashley Woodfolk, Nicola Yoon, Dhonielle Clayton, Nic Stone, and Tiffany D. Jackson

Atlanta is blanketed with snow just before Christmas, but the warmth of young love just might melt the ice in this novel of Black joy, and cozy, sparkling romance—by the same unbeatable team of authors who wrote the New York Times bestseller Blackout!

As the city grinds to a halt, twelve teens band together to help a friend pull off the most epic apology of her life. But will they be able to make it happen, in spite of the storm?

No one is prepared for this whiteout. But then, we can't always prepare for the magical moments that change everything.

I chose this mostly because I'd enjoyed Blackout (or vaguely remember enjoying it) and I figured this would be an easy, enjoyable read. 

No. 

I hated this book. I have no idea how the same authors, using the same concept, could write something so much worse that I had to force myself to finish it, but somehow they managed. The book is a series of interconnecting stories, loosely grouped around the primary couple (Stevie and Sola's) efforts to reconcile after a fight and everyone else helping out in some way. 

Problem #1 is the Stevie and Sola were the worst. And they behaved stupidly too!  After Stevie screws up, Sola insists on Stevie apologizing by midnight, but then refuses to look at any messages or phone calls from her. I assume it was necessary for dramatic reasons, but when you tell someone you're going to break up with them unless they apologize to you, ignoring their calls makes no fucking sense. On the other hand, Stevie is the one who showed up loopy from pain meds to her family's dinner, got kicked out for being so rude, and then hassled everyone she's ever met to do a bunch of favors for her last minute. And she responds to Sola's request that she apologize to her family members by... waiting at a baseball stadium after she has a friend shoot a bunch of drones in the sky? Is there a reason Stevie couldn't be waiting at Sola's house instead? It's not like Stevie's the one running the drones. She just happened to know someone willing to subvert their own work project for Stevie's demands.  And aside from the unlikelihood that all her friends are so incredibly desperate to help this young couple get back together that they literally trek through a blizzard to buy a bunch of junk like legos and stuffed animals and college rally wear, there's the whole "time Stevie used her mom's ID to get into the aquarium at night so she could have semi-public sex with her girlfriend" which is played like an incredibly sweet moment instead of the kinda gross and definitely inappropriate set-up it is. That's her mom's workplace, and I assume they've got cameras there. But young love, right? There's also allusions to Stevie not wanting to be called a girl but in Sola's chapter, she keeps referring to Stevie as "her" so that felt unexplained and confusing as well.

The other issue is that we start off with a bunch of the weaker storylines, so it puts you on the wrong footing right away. The second couple (Kaz and Porsha) we're introduced to are the aforementioned lego seekers, which includes a boy who has been bending over backwards for this girl, and the girl who apparently hasn't noticed this at all until a couple of mall-goers point it out to her. You want us to root for these guys? If they can't even communicate on an issue as commonplace as coming to dinner, how am I supposed to expect they'll ever be a functional couple? Plus this story had the most obnoxious use of slang, bruh. It's going to be dated within 12 months.

Then we've got another couple (ER and Van) who apparently are on a "break" but for reasons that seem hazy and irrelevant since, at the end of their chapter, the ex-/girlfriend says they didn't behave any differently when they were broken up anyway, so it was moot. Um, yay, I guess? The primary conflict in this chapter is because they run into another of the narrator's exes at the airport, which she acts like is the worst thing in the world apparently, but honestly I have very little sympathy for the narrator, since most of the conflict comes up because she picks up the phone to talk to her ex and then starts lying to her girlfriend about it. 

There's some cuter stories later, but my patience was already gone. Maybe I was just in a different mood when I read Blackout, but Whiteout got on all my nerves with how annoying these people were being in their relationships. So much anxiety, so little confidence! I know these are supposed to be teenagers and thus, idiots, but  it was really grating how many of the stories were some version of "this person I'm with isn't very considerate of me, but now that we've confessed our deep-seated love for each other, everything is great!"

I disliked Whiteout so much, I am now retroactively reconsidering my opinion of Blackout: maybe it's just as bad and I just didn't notice it when I read it last time. Aside from the varying levels of tolerance I had about the relationships, the logic of the stories was all over the place. There's the whole "why not just wait at Sola's house thing instead of making her dad drive her to the stadium" but also Sola digs an entire grave in her backyard to bury some lego flower set that Stevie made her...in the middle of a blizzard while wearing a dress because it reminded her of good times with Stevie. Sure, why not. And the idea that the gift shop at the aquarium just so happens to still be open at 10:30 pm (!!) so Ava and Mason's story can be slotted in there is ridiculous. {This is the same aquarium where Stevie told her mom she was picking up files from her mom's office for her, but instead planned a sexy picnic sex-surprise for her girlfriend. Do we think Ava and Mason know that's why Stevie is making them get a commemorative jellyfish gift?} And Jimi is busking outside a huge theater in the middle of a blizzard even though ostensibly, she's there to reunite with her bandmates and record a song? Outside? Because when Teo/Lil Kinsey shows up, it sounds like she wasn't even expecting to go inside at any point.

I was going to say something like, the best thing about this, is that I will not have to read it again, but that seems unnecessarily harsh. It wasn't terrible, but it definitely wasn't for me. 

47: A Book Of Interconnected Short Stories

The Puzzler

 The Puzzler

By A.J. Jacobs

What makes puzzles—jigsaws, mazes, riddles, sudokus—so satisfying? Be it the formation of new cerebral pathways, their close link to insight and humor, or their community-building properties, they’re among the fundamental elements that make us human. Convinced that puzzles have made him a better person, A.J. Jacobs—four-time New York Times bestselling author, master of immersion journalism, and nightly crossworder—set out to determine their myriad benefits. And maybe, in the process, solve the puzzle of our very existence. Well, almost.

In The Puzzler, Jacobs meets the most zealous devotees, enters (sometimes with his family in tow) any puzzle competition that will have him, unpacks the history of the most popular puzzles, and aims to solve the most impossible head-scratchers, from a mutant Rubik’s Cube, to the hardest corn maze in America, to the most sadistic jigsaw. Chock-full of unforgettable adventures and original examples from around the world—including new work by Greg Pliska, one of America’s top puzzle-makers—The Puzzler will open listeners’ eyes to the power of flexible thinking and concentration. Whether you’re puzzle obsessed or puzzle hesitant, you’ll walk away with real problem-solving strategies and pathways toward becoming a better thinker and decision maker—for these are certainly puzzling times.

I'm cheating, I suppose, or at least, bending the rules in myriad ways. Fitting, probably, for a book that is all about solving puzzles by thinking outside the box. Using your creative brain to figure out mind teasers and word benders. As to how I'm bending the rules, well, the book came before the ending lines. I didn't read the book because of the ending, but you have to admit as endings go, it's a pretty good one. And yes, it's not the last line of the book, but I'm considering everything after to be more like... appendixes. The final final line, is the solution to the puzzles that have come before (and one I freely admit to not solving myself).  And finally, it's not one line, but two:

"Only 1,298,074,214,633,706,907,132,624,082,305,018 moves to go.

After that, I promise to quit puzzles."

I'm obviously the target audience but I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. Typically when someone writes a whole book about puzzles it seems like they try to compensate for the subject matter by taking an ultra scholarly approach to it, which sucks all the fun out of the fun in the first place.  In The Puzzler, Jacobs knows what we're here for: puzzles! Some hard ones, so we have a challenge, some easy ones, so we can feel triumphant.

I appreciated not only the approach but the scope of it. Clearly he can't cover every puzzle type ever but I think within the constraints that he had, there was good coverage. I will however admit to some outrage on the absolute travesty of not including logic problems,  which are both a favorite of mine as well as, I think, a classic in the genre. But of course, jumbles, acrostics, word searches and others (not to even mention Tetris and other video game puzzles) didn't make the cut either. And even the ones that were included couldn't be fully plumbed either. 

I will say that as much as I appreciated the light, personal tone of the book, it was vastly more political than I expected. I wasn't surprised by content of the comments so much that they appeared at all. In a world where it often seems like everyone who is even mildly in the public eye must be sanitized for broad consumption, it offered a little insight on our erstwhile puzzler. And he struck the right balance, I think, of humility and curiosity (of which he mentions the importance of multiple times) and is an engaging guide for those of us interested in the games people play. He reminds us about how much joy there is in solving puzzles for the sheer sake of solving them. Even if, as he admits, we have to bend the rules a bit to do it (like getting someone else with more experience to solve it for you).

I certainly hope that Jacobs has as much fun writing it as I did reading it. As a lifelong puzzle addict myself (although not as dedicated to the wordplay puzzles as Jacobs is, I will admit to already knowing the difference between labyrinths and mazes before picking this up) I'm newly appreciative to the creators and the others who love and support the puzzlers. By coincidence, I'm entering my first speed puzzle competition next week. Fingers crossed I don't come last. 

2: A Book You Want To Read Based On The Last Sentence