Category: literary fiction

Inheriting Edith by Zoe Fishman (Literary Fiction –audio book)

Writing: 4.5/5 Characters: 5/5 Plot: 4/5
Single mother Maggie — a college graduate who drifted into house cleaning — is bequeathed a beautiful house in Sag Harbor by Liza — a previously good friend with whom she had had a falling out years before. The only catch? The house comes with an inhabitant — Liza’s 82-year old crotchety mother, complete with recent Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

Maggie and her two-year old daughter, Lucy, move in, and what follows is a beautiful, slow-moving but deeply felt novel of two women coming to terms with who they are, who they were, and what kind of closure they need before moving forward. Liza was a suicide — a best selling author who did not leave a suicide note. And so part of work both Maggie and Edith have to do is to try to understand why, what they could have done, and what it means for them going forward.

Excellent dialog — full of the clear, deescalating interactions we all wish we could do on demand. Also some wonderful supporting characters: Edith’s oldest and best friend Esther — they were Broadway dancers together way back when; Sam — single dad, philosopher and now owner of a popular toy store; and two-year old Lucy who is as charming and off-the-charts annoying as any toddler could be. Lots of reflection and the gaining of self-knowledge; lots of discussion of depression, guilt, best effort, and second chances. Really nice relationships. Brought me to tears several times.

I liked the audio book reader — her “Esther” voice was my favorite. Reminded me of my grandma 🙂

Sandwich by Catherine Newman (Literary Fiction — Humor)

Writing: 5/5 Characters: 5/5 Plot: 4/5 Humor: 5++/5

Ok, this book is just flat out funny. I snorted, giggled, and guffawed my way through it with only occasional pauses. But while it gets top top grades for humor, it has plenty of depth, too. Ostensibly about a week at the beach with an extended (and all adult) family, it’s a study of functional (as opposed to dysfunctional) family dynamics. Many readers seem to want intense drama, with earth shattering impact, but I love these close looks at how real people work and learn and connect. The themes are family, love, and life with plenty of personality, philosophy, and interaction thrown in and a strong focus on parenting, pregnancy, and reproduction. Also the (new to me) phrase “anticipatory grief.” Wow — I should have learned that one a long time ago…

I loved the characters and the way they interacted. Our first person narrator is Rocky (Rachel) — a mother so full of emotion and worry and menopausal heat she is constantly threatening to (metaphorically) explode. I liked the way husband Nick — even as told through her eyes — is depicted so completely and not just a bit player in Rocky’s drama. Without giving anything away, I thought he was masterfully written. I loved the multifaceted views of all of the characters — both as themselves and also as they were in relationship with each other. I also appreciated the way Newman dealt with daughter Willa — the requisite lesbian through whom plenty of social commentary on LGBTQ+ issues was included in a nice relaxed, off key way that both made me laugh and made me think.

I also loved the dialog — it was written the way I wish people would speak — fast, humorous, and with a high signal to noise ratio. General banter and friendly family squabbling throughout but always overlaid on clear, honest, and trusting communication. I could be laughing at the (over-the-top-of the-top menopause complaints and then be tearing up at the essential humanity and love concisely tucked into an honest exchange. Kind of a combination of Nora Ephron (humor), Matthew Norman (human exchange), and Anne Lamott (parenting and reflection).

I will say that the inside of Rocky’s head is a fun, but very tiring place to be and I’m glad I don’t live there permanently.

Quotes:

“Ugh, my voice! You can actually hear the estrogen plummeting inside my larynx.”

“… I say quietly, but my veins are flooded with the lava that’s spewing our of my bad-mood volcano. If menopause were an actual substance, it would be spraying from my eyeballs, searing the word ugh across Nick’s cute face.”

“People who insist that you should be grateful instead of complaining? They maybe don’t understand how much gratitude one might feel about the opportunity to complain.”

“I’m always Sherlock Holmesing around them all with my emotional magnifying glass, trying to figure out if anybody has any actual feelings and what those might be.”

“Also he will get out the innocuous-sounding foam roller that is actually a complex pain device designed by people who hate everybody. I’ve seen enough videos of cats terrorized by cucumbers to know what my face looks like when I suddenly see the foam roller.”

“Nick’s curiosity about feelings and the people who have them is fleeting at best.”

“Forty percent of my waking thoughts were about the children dying — the other sixty about sleep. I was ashamed of this demented pie chart.”

“A conversation like this might be a wolf in clown’s clothing, and he knows it. My rage is like a pen leaking in his pocket, and before long there will be ink on his hands, his lips.”

“I mince down the spiral staircase in my memory-foam slippers, all of my joints clacking like the witch in a marionette performance of Hansel and Gretel.”

“All of the names of everything have oozed out and away from the drainage holes menopause has punched into my memory storage.”

“My ancient father actually swimming in the ocean feels like a bridge too far in terms of what I can handle fretting about.”

Thank you to Harper and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on June 18th, 2024.

Shred Sisters by Betsy Lerner (Literary Fiction)

Writing: 5/5 Plot: 4/5 Characters: 4/5
This novel follows the Shred sisters from childhood to middle adulthood. Our narrator is Amy, the younger, nerdy, physically diminutive, and (apparently) socially challenged sister. Her older sister, Olivia (Ollie), is beautiful, reckless, and rapidly heading for a lifetime of mental illness and instability. Written in the first person (Amy), it reads like a memoir by which I mean that things happen with a real life, rather than narrative, arc. Amy’s journey is a tough one, with the destabilizing influence of her attention-soaking, manic-depressive, more-than-a-handful, older sister on the whole family.

Lerner is an excellent writer — clear, detailed, and multi-layered. For what could be a very melodramatic story, it is told with a more dispassionate style — full of the “what” of the story without the accompanying hand wringing and / or judgement. Unfortunately for me, it doesn’t detail much of the more reflective “why” which is what interests me more. Why did Amy make so many (IMHO) bad decisions? Did she learn from them and if so, what? I can infer how her family life, her personality, and her destabilizing sister may have contributed to her life decisions, but I would have preferred to hear her own reflections. I found Amy’s life depressing, though it isn’t at all clear that she found it so (which let’s face it is the important thing!). There is a lot of human brokenness in the book, including addiction, infidelity, poor parenting, and general relationship issues — some of which I could relate to, but much I could not.

Overall it was a very good book and never became a chore to read. The characters were well-drawn but I could not understand or relate to them much of the time. I’m always trying to understand why people do what they do — in real life and in novels — and I wish the author had been more deliberate in discussing this.

Thank you to Grove Press and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on October 1st, 2024.

The Glassmaker by Tracy Chevalier (Historical Fiction)

Writing: 3.5/5 Plot: 4/5 Characters: 4.5/5

A chronicle of glass making in Murano (still known as the center of glass!) as told through the life of Orsola Rosso — the eldest daughter of a glass blowing family. Orsola wants to work with glass herself, but it’s 1486 and the Renaissance hasn’t quite reached the stage of promoting social changes for women. The story uses the (very) unusual contrivance of allowing Orsola and those in her immediate orbit to age slowly while time for the world at large gallops by. While the “action” starts in 1486 and ends in the present day, Orsola only ages from nine to her late sixties. While this device is explained (poetically) in the prolog, I didn’t really get it so I’m hoping that I can help you avoid bafflement by stating it here with less skill but more clarity 🙂

Orsola’s life embodies the personal (love, marriage, and children in a large extended family rife with personalities), the political (Venice shifting from commercial center to Austrian occupied territory to part of a United Italy to tourist center) , and the business (Guild control to competitive pressures to tourist-driven). She and her family go through the Plague (and later Covid!), two world wars, and the changing mores of an evolving Europe as the Renaissance gave way to the Age of Enlightenment followed by whatever our current age is destined to be called. I learned a lot about Italian history — details that I had learned in the past now integrated and brought to life in this story of artisans buffeted by the constantly shifting trends over time. The history became so much more real to me told through the lens of this particular family.

I give this a four star rating because for my taste there was a little more description than I like, though that same description may fascinate others.

Thank you to Viking and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on June 18th, 2024.

Family Family by Laurie Frankel (audio book – Literary Fiction)

Writing: 5/5 Characters: 5+/5 Plot: 4/5

I loved absolutely everything about this audio book — the story, the writing, the characters, and last but definitely not least, the audio book reader.

The book follows India Allwood along two intersecting timelines: from precocious and unintentionally pregnant teen to TV super star; and the weeks following a media storm raining down on India following her truthful comments about her recent movie’s position on adoption. You see, India has quite a personal relationship with adoption, having placed her baby with a family she specifically selected. On the other hand, the movie she stars in (and most of the way she sees adoption portrayed in the media) focuses only on the negatives: trauma, regret, and pain. When she admits in an interview that she doesn’t think the movie got it right — that adoption can (and usually is) a very good experience for all involved, it seems like everyone on the planet has nasty things to say about her. When her ten-year old twins see what she is going through, they decide that finding Rebecca — the baby 16-year old India delivered and placed — is the answer to all of their problems…

This book is incredibly well-written and covers all sorts of issues pertaining to families, relationships, aspirations, values, and, well, life with balanced and exceptionally articulate interactions, reflections, introspection and dialog. I cannot stress enough how happy I am with high quality dialog like the kind I found in these pages. As an aside, I found it interesting that I really did not take to 16-year old India. I found her to be a pain in the butt. But she grew on me as she grew on herself, figuring more things out, always striving to understand her own motivations and make good decisions, until by the time she was current day India I was ready to be her best friend.

I’m trying hard not to give away the many surprises that pop out along the way — suffice it to say that the pacing is excellent, the revelations are eye-opening and well-integrated in the plot, and I liked every single character in the book (and there are many). While covering adoption from many angles, the author (through the voice of India) is also very clearly pro-choice, with a great scene between India and some right-to-lifers camped out on her driveway seeking a mascot for their cause. The author also shows strong support for non-traditional family units — but again, I don’t want to give anything away… Lastly, some very in depth and illuminating commentary on the life of an actor!

Highly recommended.

The Samurai’s Garden by Gail Tsukinaya (Historical Literary Fiction)

A quiet, thoughtful, and utterly absorbing book about a young man from Hong Kong sent to a small, Japanese fishing village to recover from tuberculosis on the eve of the second Sino-Japanese war (Fall, 1937). Twenty-year old Stephen is a student and a painter. The year he spends in Tarumi is told through a set of journal entries which are equal parts descriptive and reflective. There is the distant war, with the radio intoning massive Chinese casualties along side propagandist calls for the enemy to “simply surrender to the kindness of the Japanese army, and all will be well.” There is the slow unraveling of his parent’s marriage as his father’s business interests keep him in Japan. And there is the burgeoning friendship with the older Matsu — caretaker and master gardener — and Sachi — whose life was abruptly shattered when leprosy swept the village decades before. Throughout the year, Stephen — feeling deeply but never loudly or dramatically — is slowly developing his own philosophy of living based on the lessons the world is teaching him.

The writing is exquisite — shifting between culture, character, and the natural (and unnatural) world. There is a recurring theme of beauty — sometimes found in the most unlikely places — and yet, once found, inevitable rather than surprising. Throughout all — war, destruction, disease, grief, and the ever tragic profusion of human contradictions — the focus is always on how to move forward — recognizing the fragility of life and finding your own peace and contentment within it. I liked the way the author made it clear that this was not an easy task. And I loved the fact that throughout this story teeming with essential truths, there was neither a cliche nor a saccharine sentiment to be found anywhere in the pages. Some beautiful descriptions of gardens and natural landscapes along with an artist’s way of engaging with the world as well.

Highly recommended.

Quotes:
“ It’s harder than I imagined, to be alone. I suppose I might get used to it, like an empty canvas, you slowly begin to fill.”

“All over Japan they were celebrating the dead, even as more and more Chinese were being slaughtered. There would be no one left to celebrate them. I looked around at all the smiling faces, at Matsu and Fumiko who moved slowly beside me, and wished that one of them could explain to me what was going to happen.”

“Ever since I had come to Tarumi, I’d seen more deaths than in all of my life in Hong Kong. Everything before me was changing. I knew I would never be able to step back into my comfortable past, Ahead of me lurked the violent prospect of war, perhaps bringing the deaths of people I knew and loved, along with the end of my parent’s marriage. These were the terrors I’d somehow escaped until now. And as I sat among the white deutzia blossoms, I felt a strange sensation of growing pains surge through my body, the dull ache of being pulled in other directions.”

“I’ve tried to capture this ghostly beauty on canvas, but like anything too beautiful, it becomes hard to re-create its reality. There’s something about being too perfect, that, even this, which at times appears stiff, almost boring. I finally gave up after several tries.”

“She wasn’t beautiful, not in the way that Tomoko must’ve been, nor did she have the roughness of Matsu. Her attraction wasn’t in the form of perfect features, but from the deep, wrinkles, age spots, and eyes that have seen much of what life has to offer. Fumiko had a face that had been enriched through time.”

“I was old enough to understand everything he said, but as his mouth softly formed the words, I knew the sense of integrity I had long admired in him had died, and then I was already grieving for its loss.”

“He learns how to do art with the stones in her garden: it was a strange feeling, much different from working with the fluidity of brush and paint, or water and earth. The weight of the stones pulled against each stroke and left a distinct feeling of strength and permanence.”

A Painted House by John Grisham (Historical Fiction — audio book)

Writing: 5/5 Characters: 5/5 Plot: 4/5
This book is unlike any other book Grisham has written — no courtrooms, not a lot of official justice, and not a thriller — but I found it utterly enthralling. It drew me into a world I knew nothing about and brought it to full sensory life. At least part of this was due to the audio book reader (David Lansbury) who captured the mood perfectly with his tone, pacing, and wide range of voices. Not every book (IMHO) is improved by listening to it — but this one certainly was.

The story is apparently somewhat autobiographical and takes us through one picking season on an Arkansas Delta cotton farm in 1952. Told from the perspective of seven year old Luke Chandler, the clarity of his reflections as he learns about life, morality, and people during this period is priceless. The family hires itinerant help in the form of ten Mexicans and a family of hill people. As with most farmers of the time, they are in debt from one season to the next, on the edge of ruin with every storm, flood, broken truck, or the transitory nature of picking labor. Luke is part of it all — the picking, the worrying, and the witnessing. He becomes the holder of too many secrets, and we feel the potential bursting and sickness he takes on with the keeping.

I’d forgotten how good Grisham’s writing is because I’m not that interested in legal thrillers but I was rapt throughout. His characters are such real people — each struggling in his or her own way with constant questions of both survival and morality. Making do in a rough world with little in the way of legal support — people have to figure out how to handle their own problems. Bittersweet and poignant, the narrative spans the Korean war, the movies of the day, the newness (and rareness) of television sets, flooding and tornados, farming economics, and the tension between the old ways and new possibilities.

Loved it.

Reunion by Elise Juska (Literary Fiction)

June 2021 — Three friends anticipate a Covid postponed college reunion at the Maine campus. Hope — a stay at home mom with an increasingly distant husband — is desperate to return to what she remembers as her happiest time; Adam looks forward to reconnecting but feels guilt at leaving his perpetually sad wife with the twins in the house that she hasn’t left in a very long time; and NYC based single-mom Polly who doesn’t share her friends fond memories, but is persuaded to attend by her reclusive son who wants to visit a nearby friend.

This character-driven novel explores friendships and personal growth against the backdrop of lock down parenting and recovery alongside some pretty intense environmental anxiety. With every relationship comes inevitable clashes and this story covers quite a few. I particularly “enjoyed” the generational clashes — some familiar and some brand new to me as successive generations bear less and less in common with my own. Well written probes into the evolution of friendships
— what connects people with little in common and what decisions can impact the closeness over time. I really liked that the ending for all of our protagonists had a closure that was more about understanding the nature of their issues, thereby clarifying a path towards closure, rather than any kind of quick solution to the problem itself — because there really are no quick solutions to relationship issues…

One kind of funny (to me) quote as Hope thinks about her teenage daughter Izzy: “Meanwhile, Izzy was skeptical of all things where Hope was concerned. Her Spotify list. Her low-carb bread. Her Facebook posts — too frequent, too obviously curated — why was she even on Facebook? Her overuse of exclamation points. Her leather tote. Sometimes Hope secretly wondered if Izzy had become a vegan primarily to get on her nerves.”

Thank you to Harper and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on May 11th, 2024.

Next of Kin by Samantha Jayne Allen

Number three in Allen’s Annie McIntyre / Garrett, Texas series. Nice and complicated, full of atmosphere, and I really like the way Annie is developing. In my review of the last book, I said, “Annie suffers from occasional bouts of self-doubt which I hope she has less often in the future (I like to see characters grow!)” and guess what? She really has grown into the role, and her bouts of self-doubt have largely disappeared. Made me happy!

This deliciously convoluted plot includes long lost relative discoveries on Ancestry.com with a heavy dose of bad guy blood mixed in. Social services, group homes, drug dealing, bank robbers — they pop up in unexpected places and through it all Annie keeps her cool, pursues justice like a tenacious bulldog, and treats us to her ongoing reflections, many of a philosophical and moral nature (my cup of tea). The regular characters — her 85 year grandfather retired sheriff Leroy, his investigative partner of many years Mary Kate, Annie’s newly married cousin Nikki, and increasingly serious boyfriend Wyatt — all get better and more interesting with each book.

This is the best book so far — tighter plot, better balance of “novel” and “mystery,” and a well-developed (and continuously developing) set of characters.

A couple of quotes:

“He let information sit before speculating, enough time to regulate his own emotions, square them off, and keep them sealed.”

“Though I knew myself to be a believer in redemption, it was hard to overlook the universe’s uneven distribution of such favors.”

Thank you to Minotaur Books and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on April 23rd, 2024.

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley (Speculative Fiction)

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

A surprisingly fun ride about the use of time travel to bring historical figures forward in time as part of a (very) complicated plot to ward off a severely climate damaged future. Our narrator (who I now realize is never given a name) is a civil servant who is offered an exciting new job as a “bridge” to one of these “expats from history.” A bridge’s function is to help the refugees from time accommodate to the present.

Our narrator is paired with Graham Gore — a Royal Navy officer and polar explorer from the early 19th century who is brought to the present just before his death as part of the ill fated 1845 Franklin expedition to discover the Northwest Passage. (This is a real historical person and his character and experiences are faithfully drawn from historical records — look him up!). Four other “expats” include the unpleasant Lieutenant Thomas Cardingham from 1645; the lesbian Margaret Kemble from 1665 rescued from the Plague; a woman from Robespierre era Paris (1793); and the closeted homosexual Captain Arthur Reginald-Smythe extracted from the Battle of the Somme in 1916 (he wasn’t going to make it).

The plot is crazy, the characters are well-drawn and time-appropriate. I loved the interactions among all the possible permutations of expats and bridges with what felt like very real reactions and learning curves — most taking to technological advances more easily than the great shifts in social mores and expectations. I found the depth and believability of these interactions and the personal reflections fascinating. Plenty of insight (which I always love) and a great new phrase for me: “ethically sparse” to explain how our narrator felt about certain policies and decisions made by her corporate overlords in the Ministry.

Bradley is an excellent writer — her phrasing and comic overlays are top notch. I found the plot confusing at times — but it feels like this was somewhat intentional as the events were certainly confusing to the people living through them, and we are sharing their experience. Our narrator is part Cambodian, and another bridge is Black. Add to this our historical lesbian and homosexual characters, and there is plenty of opportunity for some pithy and insightful identity issues as well. She even managed to work a theremin (weird musical instrument — look it up) into the plot as well. Impressive!

Some fun Quotes (sorry there are so many but I couldn’t pick):

“I finally had a savings account that looked like it might withstand a life emergency rather than crumple at a dentistry bill.”

“All the emotions I normally watched her puree into professionalism were churning on her face.”

“This was one of my first lessons in how you make the future: moment by moment, you seal the doors of possibility behind you.”

“When Graham got online, as he did not call it, and learned to peck at the keyboard with the elegance and speed of a badly burned amphibian …”

“But my mother never described herself as a refugee. It was a narrative imposition, along with ‘stateless’ and ‘survivor’.”

‘Stop hand-wringing,’ said Simellia, still smiling, though increasingly looking as if the smile was being operated by winches inside her skill. ‘God, Ministry bias training has a lot to answer for,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to drop a piano on your head but believe it or not, I already know I’m Black. You don’t have to roll over and show me your belly about it.’

“It was another dank toothache of a day, barely qualifying in its chromatic dullness for ‘grey‘.”

“Quentin treated me with an impatient familiarity, as if we were both were leaving streaks on one another.”

“We settled back, if ‘settle’ is the right word for the stiff, wary way we offset one another’s weight on the cushions.”

“That night, I slept with unpleasant lightness, my brain balanced on unconsciousness like an insect’s foot on the meniscus of a pond. I didn’t so much wake up as give up on sleep.”

“We separated and spent the fading day bobbing shyly around one another like clots in a lava lamp.”

“I launched into a preplanned speech about class mobility and domestic labor, touching on the minimum wage, the size of an average household, and women in the workforce. I took a full five minutes of talking and by the end I’d moved into the same tremulous liquid register I used to use for pleading with my parents for a curfew extension.”

Thank you to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on May 7th, 2024.