Category: literary fiction

Stars Over Sunset Blvd by Susan Meissner (Historical Fiction)

This is the story of the long friendship between two very different women. Alabama born and bred Violet Mayfield, has fled from the home she loved when her dream of being a wife and mother is dashed. Audrey Duvall is desperate to restart a career that was dashed by the introduction of the talkies. They meet as secretaries on the set of Gone With the Wind in Los Angeles, 1938. The book follows the two of them to the ends of their lives, embedding the complexities of real relationships and the many emotional and moral issues that populate any thinking person’s life: honesty and fear, suspicions and jealousies, loyalty and deep connection. The audiobook reader was fine — a little too slo for my taste.

Susan Meissner is one of my favorite writers. She writes the kind of historical fiction that I love — plumped full of historical detail that awakens fascination — in this case, the movie set of Gone With the Wind. Full of every kind of detail — the technical work, the movie stars, the voice coaching (to make the British actors sound Southern), the filming of epic scenes such as the fall of Atlanta. If you’ve ever seen the movie (and if you haven’t, my goodness!) you’ll be spellbound by all that went into it. At the same time, Meissner writes the kind of human-centered novels that I like — full of thoughtful characters whose interior lives we access as they make their way through a life full of desires, setbacks, regrets, opportunities, and insights. And these are “regular” lives — no giant melodramatic events, but plenty of relatable experiences and thoughts. Her settings often include the kinds of ethical dilemmas we all face, along with the individual choices and the (often predictable and yet somehow surprising) fallout. Because that’s the thing about ethical dilemmas — there are no obviously right answers so some negative fallout is guaranteed.

On a deeper level, I initially felt a lot of judgement about one of the characters — I did not like her. Meissner managed to turn her behavior into something that could be understood (if not applauded), forgiven, and relationship deepening. It’s so easy to immediately judge and so difficult to try to understand. It was inspiring to watch the two continuing their friendship even when one or the other was feeling angry, resentful, or jealous. I was also impressed by some deeply felt and well articulated views on love and why people don’t need reasons to love someone and about recognizing the “brokenness” or maybe “incompleteness” of being young and how you choose to stay close to someone despite irritations, betrayals, and misunderstandings. That understanding, remorse, and a willingness for honesty can mend and make stronger any relationship. Surprisingly insightful.

Looking forward to Meissner’s next book (which I think is due out next March!)

Tell Me Everything by Elizabeth Strout (Literary Fiction)

This is (yet another) beautiful and deeply thoughtful book by Elizabeth Strout, featuring two of our favorite characters from Crosby, Maine: Lucy Barton and Olive Kitteridge (who until this book have not actually met). With plenty of small town plot, including an actual dead body mystery and a “different” sort of affair, this takes us through samplings of post-Covid Crosby life in lively detail.

In truth it is all about connection, knowing yourself and others, and the joy of being allowed to be genuine. (As an aside, I feel like it is harder and harder to meet people who immediately feel genuine — possibly because our culture requires people to curate their presentation so very carefully). It’s about loneliness and the comfort we receive from even the tiniest “real” connections. It’s about the nature of a real friend who makes you feel not alone, regardless of how often you see them, talk to them, or what they do for you. While some of the story takes place in the present, there are many interludes in the form of Lucy’s “stories of unrecorded lives” which she and Olive exchange. Lucy (and Elizabeth Strout) is a writer and these stories are therefore no longer unrecorded. Also a great new phrase for me: “Sin eater.” Some people eat the sins of others… It’s an interesting concept and you can learn more by reading the book. A bit of a slow start but that’s more about the mood you’re in when you sit down to read. Come to it in a meditative and curious state.

Some quotes (plus the last line — as always — is great but I can’t include it here):

“Didn’t anyone ever have anything interesting to say? They talked of movies they were all watching, of series on Netflix, they spoke about their children, but always carefully and in terms meant to hide their private disappointments, and they talked about one another. Of course.”

“I mean, we don’t ever really know another person. And so we make them up according to when they came into our lives, and if you’re young, as many people are when they marry, you have no idea who that person really is. And so you live with them for years, you have a house together, kids together. But even if you marry someone later in life. no one knows who another person is. And that is terrifying.”

“…because nobody can go into the crevices of another’s mind, even the person can’t go into the crevices of their own mind, and we live — all of us — as though we can.”

“And yet, as is often the case, those of us who need love so badly at a particular moment can be off-putting to those who want to love us, and to those who do love us. Bob, as he looked at her — she seemed like a beached sea animal to him with her eyes that had almost disappeared — he did love her, he did.”

“Solzhenitsyn said the point of life is the maturity of the soul.”

Thank you to Random House and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on September 10th, 2024.

The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store by James McBride (Literary Historical Fiction)

Plot: 4.5 Characters: 5/5 Writing: 4.5/5

A body found in 1972 during a building project in Pottstown, PA, gives rise to the 400 page story describing (in a very roundabout way!) how it got there. But really the body is unimportant — it’s just a piece of string that connects the reader to the tumultuous world of Chicken Hill in the early 1900s — Chicken Hill being the part of Pottstown where the Blacks, Jews, and immigrant whites who couldn’t afford any better lived. When an orphaned, 12-year old, deaf boy is taken by the state to be institutionalized “for his own good,” the best parts of this community combine forces and in a complex effort (bringing to mind Mission Impossible) work to extract him.

That’s the plot but it’s really a tiny part of the story. McBride is a masterful storyteller — presenting a layered tableau of individual (full and richly rendered) characters, disparate groups that form constantly fluctuating alliances and communities, and the realities of life for the disenfranchised. This is not a story of lynchings, or people being shot at traffic stops, but of persistent bias, disdain, and shifting laws that are set and enforced by people who owe allegiance only to their own interests. But again, the story is not focused on the injustice, but about how one goes about living in an unjust world. How one gets on with it, and all the different ways people choose to do so.

I loved the characters and their deeply complex (and utterly consistent) backstories. I loved the tumult of the constantly evolving immigrant populations — the Jews and Blacks taking the main stage but the Jews broken into multiple, distinct, groups from Romania, Lithuania, Poland, Hungary, etc. and the Blacks divided into different groupings based on attitude. Throw in Germans, Italians (but with a strong sense of identity from their origin in different parts of Italy!). This book is one of the best portrayals of the bedlam of immigrant assimilation in the early 1900s that I have ever read. I loved the depiction of the historic friendship between Blacks and Jews that lasted well into the Civil Rights era of the 60s.

The writing style was hard for me at times — long sentences, paragraphs, scenes with tangential information spinning in rapidly at multiple points — but it was necessary to get across the reality of the multiple forces and influences at play. So much valuable content but hard to hold in your head at the same time. Poor me! On the other hand, who wants to cut the live music scenes that Moshe, the Wandering Romanian, brings into his first-to-integrate theaters (see quote below about the kind of music preferred by the white upper-crusters), or of the experiences and daily dismissals that forged Nate Timblin into the strong, deeply principled man that he was, or the many, many restrictions put on Black people at the time and how they impacted simple, every day activities. I can’t honestly come up with a single scene I could do without, so my advice — caffeinate a bit before reading or take good notes.

In addition to all of the above, and perhaps most importantly, it’s a book about love, connection, community, and trying to be the best person that you can in the world in which you land.

Some great quotes:
“Principle. In all the years of being a fusgeyer, when he and Moshe were children, running for their lives from the soldiers and starving, that was the one thing that Moshe never gave away. He never hated anyone. He was always kind. He’d give away his last crumb. And here in America, he’d married a woman who was the same way. Kindness. Love. Principle. It runs the world.”

“Nate peered into his wife’s searching, pleading brown eyes, then down at her hand on his chest, the long fingers that wiped the sweat off his face after work, that knitted his pants and stroked his ear and cared for him in ways that he’d never been cared for as a child. And the rage that overcame him eased.”

“Nate Timblin was a man who, on paper, had very little. Like most Negroes in American, he lived in a nation with statutes and decrees that consigned him as an equal but not equal, his life bound by a set of rules and regulations in matters of quality that largely did not apply to him. His world, his wants, his needs were of little value to anyone but himself. He had no children, no car, no insurance policy, no bank account, no dining room set, no jewelry, no business, no set of keys to anything he owned, and no land. He was a man without a country living in a world of ghosts, for having no country meant no involvement and not caring for a thing beyond your own heart and head, and ghosts and spirits were the only thing certain in a world where your existence was invisible.”

“ ‘That woman,’ his cousin Isaac once grumbled, ‘is a real Bulgarian. Whenever they feel like working, they sit and wait til feeling passes. They can’t pour a glass of water without making a party of it.’”

“To make peace with the town’s power brokers, every month or so Moshe booked a bevy of horrible bands that Pottstown’s high-class, pasty-faced Presbyterians enjoyed, just to keep the peace. Moshe watched in puzzlement as these Americans danced with clumsy satisfaction at the moans and groans of these boneless, noise-producing junk mongers, their boring humpty-dumpty sounds landing on the dance with all the power of empty peanut shells tossed in the air.”

“Most of the seventeen original Jewish families on Chicken Hill were German and liked getting along. But the newer Jews from Eastern Europe were impatient and hard to control. The Hungarians were prone to panic, the Poles grew sullen, the Lithuanians were furious and unpredictable, and the Romanians, well, that would be Moshe — the sole Romanian — he did whatever his wife told him to do even though they didn’t agree on everything; but the relatively new Jewish newcomers were not afraid to fight back.”

“These lost people spread across the American countryside, bewildered, their yeshiva education useless, their proud history ignored, as the clankety-clank of American industry churned around them, their proud past as watchmakers and tailors, scholars and historians, musicians and artists, gone, wasted. Americans cared about money. And power. And government. Jews had none of those things; their job as to tread lightly in the land of milk and honey and be thankful that they were free to walk the land without getting their duffs kicked — or worse. Life in America was hard, but it was free, and if you worked hard, you might gain some opportunity, maybe even open a shop or business of some kind.”

The Booklover’s Library by Madeline Martin (Historical Fiction)

A heartwarming piece of historical fiction taking place during WWII in Nottingham (I’ve read tons of books about the home front in London so this is new for me!). It is 1939 and 25-year old Emma is a single mother whose husband died five years before in a car accident. She manages to get a much needed job at the subscription library in the back of Boot’s (UK pharmacy), which was difficult and UK law at the time made it illegal to hire married women or widows with children. The story is of Emma’s war — working, volunteering with the WVA, but mostly dealing with the trauma of having to send her 7-year old daughter away to the country for her own safety.

My favorite thing about historical fiction such as this is the way we get the full and individual experience of living through times that are too easily summed up in history books in terms of events and casualty numbers, and not on the experience of individuals. I particularly liked the way Martin added all sorts of details of which I was unaware. I loved the way the subscription library worked and the explanation of why public libraries didn’t meet the needs of all subscribers. Librarians at the subscription libraries were responsible for curating loans for each individual patron. I would have been very happy to have that job! Special “red label” books such as Lady Chatterly’s Lover had to be specifically requested and were not allowed on the floor. There was plenty of story about the patrons of the library, their reading habits, and the librarians who helped them. Plenty of other new details (for me) as well. One character turns out to be part of the “Mass Observation.” This is a program started in 1937 that continued for 30 years. The “observers” carefully noted down what people talked about and did. Apparently it was originally started to capture the feelings of people about King Edward’s abdication, but of course continued to be valuable once the war started. And did you know that pet owners were “ordered” to put their pets down at the start of the war to save food for people?

Some romance, plenty of hardships, and always enough community pulling together when necessary. I liked the characters — books like this focus on the best in people which (fortunately) does come out in times of trouble. Of course I also loved the story of how books and reading help us when we need them. It’s a good pairing with one of her other books — The Last Bookshop in London — and there is a cameo appearance of that very bookshop and its booksellers in this volume.

Thank you to Hanover Square Press and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on September 10th, 2024.

The Conditions of Unconditional Love by Alexander McCall Smith (Literary Fiction)

I’m a long time fan of McCall Smith, but the Isabel Dalhousie series (this is #15) is the only one I’m still reading. Isabel is a philosopher with an independent income, two small children, and is the editor (and owner) of the Philosophical Review. She lives in Edinburgh and has a habit of “fixing things” both large and small, sometimes fully aware that the problem is none of her business.

I love this series because there is never a shortage of interesting things for Isabel to muse about, and I love the way McCall Smith gets to the essence of every topic. Whether she is talking to herself, to a casual acquaintance, or to her husband, these are the kind of conversations I like to have, and I’m perfectly happy to have them with an intellectual, though fictional, sparring partner!

The “problems” she solves in this book are every day irritations that I can completely relate to and that — while not actually important in the larger scheme of things — is very trying and important in our every day lives. A book group that has become downright antagonistic towards each other; a couple who doesn’t know the truth about each other and really should; a conference organizer potentially defrauding a funding organization; an uncomfortable situation with a long-term (but not well known) house guest.
I like that McCall Smith takes on issues of the day and introduces (often new to me) ethical conundrums. He refers to the Circle of Moral Recognition — the boundary drawn around those entities in the world deemed worthy of moral consideration. What is our own personal moral responsibility in specific situations in the current moral climate? He introduces “defensible pride” vs “hubristic pride” and why one attracts us while we find the other quite off putting. Another concept I hadn’t heard of — but love — is the Hawking index which is the percentage of a book read before the average reader gives up. Named after Hawking’s best selling A brief History of Time which received a whopping 6.6% on the index and still wasn’t the smallest index (that honor goes to Capital in the Twenty-First century by Thomas Piketty). Who knew? Lastly I had to laugh out loud when she suggested the need for “emotional continence” when others went on and on about TMI topics ad nauseam.

I don’t agree with all of Isabel’s thoughts and opinions, but I like the way they are laid out cleanly with a clear understanding of the basic principles and thought process used to come to her conclusions. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all engage on “hot topics” in this way?

Thank you to Pantheon and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on July 16th, 2024.

There are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak (Literary Fiction)

Writing: 4.5/5 Characters: 5/5 Plot: 4/5

A long and highly complex book following three elaborate storylines, all influenced in some way by the Epic of Gilgamesh — the epic Babylonian poem from about 2000 BC. Arthur Smythe — also known as King Arthur of the Sewers and Slum — is born into abject poverty but has an extraordinarily keen mind, an eidetic memory, and an absorbing passion for the artifacts in the British Museum. His story runs from his birth in 1840 to his death 36 years later in Iraq. Zaleekhah is a passionate researcher who focusses on the study and conservation of the Earth’s water in 2018 — focused on theories that would earn her derision were she to try to publish. She is also is pulled in to a fascination with the region through her own Iraqi heritage and feels a despair at the state of the Earth, both politically and environmentally. Narin is a nine-year old Yazidi girl whose village is to be subsumed from flood waters once a new, large dam is completed. A trip to Iraq in 2014 before they must leave the area exposes her to the cruelty of ISIS. Woven throughout the story are themes and entangled details about Mesopotamian history, antiquity looting, modern ISIS, grand scale pollution, language processing and the underpinnings of water throughout.

Shafak’s brain is many orders of magnitude more erudite and complex than mine. The way she can pull together an apparently disjointed collection of data points, commentary, and occurrences and create an interconnected narrative of great scope is inspiring. Her facility with language is impressive — she has a lyrical style that nevertheless manages to convey real content. An example of a one sentence physical description that manages to combine visual depiction, origin, and impact: “… neither grey nor white, the air is a soupy ochre that glows green in places. Particles of soot and ash float above, as domestic coal fires and factory chimneys belch sulfur-laden smoke, clogging the lungs of Londoners, breath by breath.”

I have mixed feelings about how much I enjoyed reading this book. I loved all the detail — giving great depth to so many aspects of the world and bringing so many pieces of information — that could have easily remained hidden — to the surface. These days it feels like we have access to so much information, we are forced to have strong opinions based on a very shallow understanding of the topic, so I appreciated the deep dives on … everything. I loved all the unusual minutiae that came into the story — underground lost rivers, Ashurbanipal’s lost library, a tattooist who works only in cuneiform. However, a real sense of impending doom suffused the pages, and that only got worse at the story went on. It’s hard not to feel as though the world were hopelessly hurtling towards a bad end, with genocidal maniacs (real ones, not Israel, and if you don’t know the difference do some research), environmental disasters, and a generous helping of greed, power-hunger, cruelty, cynicism, and general disregard pervading the text. I freely acknowledge that the world has many, many, problems, but I prefer to read about the many ways we continue to try to improve the many problems and not to succumb to melancholy and hand wringing. I also had a real problem with the ethical dilemma presented at the end. I felt the character’s resolution (clearly representing the author’s opinion) was surprisingly poorly thought out given the depths of her big picture thinking through the rest of the book.

So — if you can read for the history, the beautiful prose, the increased awareness of the interconnectedness of the Earth and the people running mad upon it, you will probably love this book. If your mood is one that is highly influenced by what you’re reading, you might want to pop a Prozac or two before diving in.

Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on August 20th, 2024.

The Radcliffe Ladies Reading Club by Julia Bryan Thomas (Literary Fiction)

I loved this quiet, but powerful, novel about a group of four Radcliffe students who join a book club devoted to discussing the classics — particularly those focused on the roles, experiences, and opportunities for women. Set in 1955, the discussions of historical classics such as Jane Eyre, The Age of Innocence, A Room of One’s Own, Anna Karenina, and others are superimposed on each girl’s individual background, goals, and experiences. This leads to some well written dialog, reflection (always my favorite), and action, all revolving around the evolution and personal impact of social norms for women. I’m not introducing the four girls here, as I like the way author introduced each. I’m also not describing some of the events that took place — they are important, but best left unintroduced IMHO.

The writing is straightforward, but never simplistic. For me personally, being only one generation behind the students in the book, the stark contrast between the lives and opportunities for the women in the book club selections, the 1955 Radcliffe students, and myself was illuminating. Social norms are embedded in us at an early age, and it is sometimes difficult to have an awareness of how our thoughts and beliefs are forged before we aware of the process. As an aside, I was impressed by how the various male characters were portrayed. The narrative was never strident, and the men ran the gamut from pretty awful to quite decent. It became clear to me that the men, too, were a product of the expectations of the time — not as an excuse for any behavior, but as an understanding of how it might have evolved. The whole thing was fascinating and (for me) never dipped into cliche or melodrama. It simply focussed on the life each girl chose, why she chose it, and how she made it happen.
For the younger among you, Radcliffe was a woman’s liberal arts college in Cambridge founded in 1879 and absorbed into Harvard in 1999.

Some great quotes — some from the classics the girls read:

From the discussion of Anna Karenina: “She had more temptations than an ordinary girl would have had. A handsome count was never going to fall in love with someone less beautiful and exciting than Anna. Which makes me think it wasn’t her fault as much as some might think.” I never thought about it that way.

From Virginia Woolf’s Orlando: ”As long as she thinks of a man, nobody objects to a woman thinking.” Ha!
“Jane Eyre was meant to be read at all stages of life, and each reader must glean what she could from her own study of the book.“

“Ah, but you see, there are no right or wrong answers in book club. It’s all about how a book affects you and how it makes you feel.”

From Virginia Woolf’s Orlando: ”As long as she thinks of a man, nobody objects to a woman thinking.” Ha!
“Jane Eyre was meant to be read at all stages of life, and each reader must glean what she could from her own study of the book.“

“Ah, but you see, there are no right or wrong answers in book club. It’s all about how a book affects you and how it makes you feel.”

Tough Luck by Sandra Dallas (Historical Fiction)

Writing: 4/5 Characters: 5/5 Plot: 4.5/5

I’ve been reading Sandra Dallas’ books since 1998 and have read (and loved!) all of them. This one is already one of my favorites — captivating characters, wild adventures, and a full sense of the time (1863) and place (Western territories).

Dumped in an orphanage by their elder brother once their mother died, Haidie (14) and Boots (10) Richards manage to escape, taking one of the more reluctant caretaker nuns with them. They head West in search of their long missing father whose last reported location was a mining town past Denver.

Diving into some fantastic storytelling, we join them on an adventure laden trip, sharing the camaraderie of a slew of characters who are as realistic as they are individualistic, intriguing, and somewhat morally curvaceous. The feel of the time and place is intensely real, with the focus on how these people are making their way through the harsh realities of the time. It’s the characters who make it for me — card sharks, con men, mule packers, members of the clergy, and (my favorite) a pair of “old maid” sisters (at the ancient ages of 27 and 29!). I love the way they are each making his or her own way in a harsh world following individual definitions of what it takes to survive in an acceptable fashion. I love the way Dallas’ books tend to include people aggregating into tight knit groups bonded by their experiences. It’s a part of human nature that I genuinely enjoy.

Gobbled this up in one session. Hope the author’s book tour lands in my town because I would dearly like to meet her.

Good for fans of Paulette Giles (though Dallas has been at it longer!)

Thank you to St. Martin’s Press and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on April 29th, 2025.

The One-in-a-Million Boy by Monica Wood (Literary Fiction)

Writing: 5+/5 Characters; 5/5 Plot: 5/5

This woman can write! The eponymous “one in a million” boy is dead (at the age of eleven) before the story starts. In fact, we never even know his name — he is always “the boy.” But we learn about him extensively — his (odd) mannerisms, his fascinations, his earnestness — through the effect he has had on a number of characters: his grief-stricken mother Belle; his father Quinn, twice-divorced from his mother, and a complicated presence (or absence) in the boy’s life; and his new friend Ona, the 104-year old woman who is a service target of his boy scout troop. The boy is the only scout Ona has ever allowed to help her for long. He is different. She trusts him and he has managed to extract from her stories, thoughts, and even some fluency in the language of her birth (Lithuanian) — a language she has never knowingly spoken. Most importantly, he has elicited some enthusiasm on her part for a goal for her remaining (!) years. Well versed in the Guinness World Records and utterly enthralled with the possibilities, he believes she has a shot — with his help — at attaining more than one age-related record for the Guinness record keepers.

The book moves on — exploring the characters, their memories, their confusion, sadness, remorse, and regrets, and ultimately their ability to patch the holes in their souls and move forward. The narrative is so real — full of thoughtful characters reflecting on life intelligently with the latent understanding that comes with time; relationships that grow; and characters whose ability to have good relationships keep growing. It’s a bit of a celebration of the utter uniqueness of individual people. I just read David Brooks’ book “How to Know a Person,” but honestly I learn more about how to know a person by reading books like this. Good fiction always feels more truthful to me than the best non-fiction when it comes to people.


At the moment, Monica Wood is my (newly discovered) favorite author. So many possible quotes on this one — I’m probably including too many but I already pruned the list so much! FYI, I absolutely loved the end. I would love to include the whole section but that would just be cheating:

“To Quinn, for whom alcohol was a touchy simile, the truth was this: playing guitar was the single occasion in his slight and baffling life when he had the power to deliver exactly the thing another human being wanted.”

“They stood together in the dripping world, sizing each other up, the boy appearing to marvel at the weight of a century-plus, Ona wondering how in hell she’d unearthed two unrelated words in a tongue she couldn’t remember ever speaking.”

“He enunciated beautifully, though his diction contained barely perceptible pauses in the wrong places, as if he were a foreigner, or short of breath.”

“Normally, Scouts bored her, with their Game Boy stats and soccer scores and lazy, shortcutting ways. This one, though, brought a literal sense of second childhood: she felt as if she were speaking to a child she might have known when she herself was eleven. How easily she placed him at McGovern’s, installed at the white marble soda fountain, sipping a chocolate phosphate. She could see him amid the white-shirted boys playing stickball on Wald Street, tagging the door of Jose Preble’s black REO. There was something vaguely wrong with him that made him seem like a visitor from another time and place.”

“He reminded her that she’d once found people fascinating. That she’d lived more than one life.”

“Ona loved English from the get-go and paid strict attention, noting the cause-effect of language: her parents’ syntactical shipwrecks, the tin peddler’s casual profanity, Maud-Lucy’s pristine enunciations. Style could move listeners to pity, to reverence, to the purchase of a stewpot they didn’t need. Maud-Lucy taught Ona to compose a sentence with intention, and eventually she chose for herself a high-low hybrid that matched her ambivalence toward humankind.”

“Belle managed something like a laugh despite her sorrow, for the boy’s syntactical oddities had always pleased her. He’d read obsessively — instruction manuals, record books, novels far too old for him — picking up linguistic baubles like a crow mining a roadside.”

“I’m good at secrets,” the boy said, studying her so intently now that she began to feel stripped after all — in a good way, stripped of decrepitude and shame.”

“He did wait, observing in silence as Amy padded back and forth with an array of cleaning supplies. From their mother, the Cosgrove girls had learned to scrub their way out of despair. There was no detergent in existence for what ailed them now, but Amy heaved into the old standby nonetheless, with an alacrity bordering on violence, much sloshing and clanging coming from the adjoining rooms. He listened to these sounds — like an animal crying hard, he thought — until she appeared again, hands red and raw.”

“As she opened the menu, Ona felt momentarily unborn, as if her long life had been a warm-up for the real show, on which the curtain was about to rise. She ordered a grilled cheese and a strawberry shortcake, expecting to eat it all.”

“How could it be that Ona Vitkus after so many years alone, had been netted by the maneuverings of lovers and interlopers, tangled into their grief and envy and clumsy efforts at peace? And oh, weren’t they a show: their puzzling wants, their cross-purposes, their own mundane, ticking-down minutes.”

“She looked small and translucent, like a baby turtle from a nature documentary. He fought an impulse to pick her up and carry her to safer ground, As she stood there, fading before his eyes, he extracted the details as if through an old telegraph, dots and dashes that he gathered into a story.”

“He loved that they loved him. He loved the hollow he filled. It was the boy who’d understood this. The boy, whose lists and lists filled his own hollow, the one his father had left behind. A loosening in his chest, like sliding rocks, took him so abruptly that he doubled over, trying to hold it in.”

Last House by Jessica Shattuck (Literary Fiction)

Writing: 5/5 Plot: 5/5 Characters: 5/5

This is a brilliant epic of a book. It spans a period of 90 years (~1950 to 2040) via the trajectories of a single family — each member ensconced in his or her own cultural context while engaging with the others who are firmly planted in their own contemporaneous but often dissonant contexts. The story begins with Nick and Bet Taylor — he a junior lawyer attached to an American oil team negotiating deals in the Middle East and she a WWII cryptographer who gave up her dreams of a PhD to become a wife and mother (as women did in the 50s). From this stability and cultural conformity came two children — Katherine and Harry — who grow up in a clash between the middle class values of their parents and the anger and rhetoric of the 60s, complete with Marxist hyperbole and anger-fueled violence in the name of peace and justice. Decades later, by the time the third generation comes of age, their social cohort is beset by the overwhelming angst from the imminent collapse of society from climate change, war, and shifting values.

What impresses me about this book is how well Shattuck captures the feelings of the time(s) from so many different perspectives. Anger, fear, bewilderment, passion. Sometimes it was hard to read because she captured it so well; other times it was chilling to read because the activism of the 60s (the good, the bad, and the ugly) is blatantly mirrored in what is happening today. She must have finished writing this book before the Israel / Hamas war began and yet she captured the mix of intentions, propaganda and stupidity of the current situation perfectly.

I loved that the multiple viewpoints were captured via highly reflective characters — their feelings of joy, frustration, rage, and angst appearing in response to a rapidly shifting cultural landscape. I love that they pondered, each in his or her own way, the responsibilities that are incurred simply by being alive. The pages are full of insight with regard to parenting, political attitudes, alliances, friendship, and familial support.

I was (pleasantly) surprised by the lack of cliche and manipulation in the narrative. If the author has a strong opinion on climate change, greed, politics, democracy, or activism, I couldn’t tell you what it was. She covered several competing thoughts on how a person chooses to live in the world as it is. One of my favorite parts (towards the end) was a 2-3 page summary of an optimistic and pessimistic view of the same world. Perfectly crystalized (IMHO) into personal attitudes and interpretations. This book could have been depressing but came off to me as more wistful — the wistfulness that always accompanies the passage of time, regardless of how sweet that passing is.

Some good quotes:

“That’s what civilization is,” Brent said. “Living with people outside your tribe. All those rules and norms and structures that allow you to coexist. Right? Without those, we’re just – cave dwellers, protecting our own turf. You escape civilization, you escape back into your tribe. “

“The Weather Underground had gone off the deep end. They had aligned themselves with history’s most violent killers, people who thought the righteousness of their cause gave them the right to make decisions about life and death: Hitler, Stalin, Charles Manson. In the name of justice, how could you choose that?”

“Still, Katherine‘s knee jerk cynicism, annoyed him. She had never even been to the Middle East. She knew nothing about Iran. She knew nothing about the oil industry or the complicated politics of resource distribution. She had never even taken an economics class. She did not grasp that she was on the top floor of a great complicated structure with her lofty ideals while he was in the basement, stoking the boiler, making sure she would not freeze to death. Her generation took so much for granted! All the peace and plenty they had grown up with wasn’t given — it was protected by a sheath of young men’s bones strewn across Europe and the Pacific“

“How will it work when everyone is exactly equal?” my mother wanted to know. “Is there enough, really, to go around?” I was appalled by this sentiment, so chauvinist, racist, survivalist. I railed at her about the capitalist racket, the smallness of her Depression-era mindset (“But I don’t have a mindset,” she protested. “I have questions”). She was a good sport about it, really, mild-mannered in the face of my patronizing. But she persisted: Wouldn’t there always be some way people sorted themselves? If it wasn’t race or gender or class, would it be intelligence? Physical strength? Blood type? Weren’t there always bound to be haves and have-nots on account of finite resources? The constraints of weather and geography, for instance? Who got the high ground with fertile soil versus who got the desert?”

“My father wanted calm and safety, not emotion. Everything in their life was set. That was her generation, I guess. Their households clean, tidy, and immobile, built to last. So, too, was their concept of the relationships of the people who populated it: mother, daughter, neighbor, housecleaner — these were static entities. I can see now that for my father, this was vital, the best protection he knew against all that was ugly, tangled, and difficult. My mother, though, longed for something different. She was forty-seven years old, and she’d been living the same life since she was twenty-three.”

“Conflict avoidance is a luxury of the bourgeoisie,” I said as if this were a well-known quote. Maybe it was. My head was awash in edict and directives and liberal platitudes.

“The idea disturbed him. They were raising a daughter who felt free to be unpleasant when she was unhappy? He would have been caned by his father if he’d ever been ‘unpleasant.’ ”

Thank you to William Morrow and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on May 14th, 2024.