Review: Uprooted

3 stars. Oh man, I had such high hopes for this. A true feminist fairy tail? So much hype! So much excitement! Unfortunately my feelings are mixed. Let's break it down:

First a summary: Every ten years, a wizard pulls a girl from a nearby village to serve him. This year, he picks Agnieszka, a generally untidy young woman who loves her valley home. The choice is a shock to her and the entire village, but she soon realizes she was chosen for a reason - she can conduct powerful, unimaginable magic. Together she and the Dragon face a terrible evil threatening to take over the world.

Now, what I loved: the setting (it's so rare to encounter deep, creative world building that isn't overly complex), the protagonist (fierce, intelligent, resourceful - and not a single mention of her curves), and the villain. I LOVED the villain. What an interesting concept for an enemy. A twist on an old trope.

What I didn't love: the romance. Don't get me wrong - I love a little (a lot) of sexual tension in books. But the Dragon, despite having a badass nickname, is ... an empty character. He has long fingers. He got dumped once. And that's about it. Oh, and he's also a bit of an asshole? He was a bit strange to read about. I think the author was trying to keep the depth, the agency and the emphasis on her very strong female protagonist, but it was at the expense of his character, and the chemistry that could have been. 

The story also dragged a bit in the middle. and the end. There appeared to be some really useless subplots. And the climax went on for about a quarter of the book. I'm disappointed to say I ended up skimming many of the final pages.

Like I said, mixed feelings. But I truly, truly enjoyed this book, I admire the author, I was completely captivated and it gave me the very specific feeling only brought on by a true fairy tale - a strange feeling of nostalgia; youth; the sensation of returning to my roots; the scent of a good story and the hope that everything will be okay and everyone will live happily ever after.

Uprooted on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Fingersmith

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

4 stars. I called Sarah Waters' book The Paying Guests "a thriller of the heart, or something." I also noted that "it's quite simply about people - good people, decent people, admirable people - who do something wrong." I also didn't see the validity of a comparison with Dickens as, in my opinion, it went "deep instead of wide."

Fingersmith, though, is so Dickensian it hurts. There are twists and turns and many, many fleshed out characters and the implausible nature of the plot is forgiven because the moments feel so real. Waters' characteristic melodrama oozes from the pages, and I truly don't know how she manages to thicken it without ruining the flavor. She is truly a queen.

It's also exhausting to read. I have to admit I did NOT predict the first twist (I know!) and had to take a break to digest a bit. And then our main characters ended up trapped in horrible situations for most of the rest of the book. I enjoyed the clearly-researched details and the depth, but it was perhaps slightly too long. The writing is also a little quirky - full of blushes and "Oh!" 's.

Sarah Waters though, my god. I bow down. Another "thriller of the heart," for sure. She's incredible and I can't wait to read The Little Strangers, next on my list.

Fingersmith on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Eileen

5 stars. Eileen, Eileen, Eileen. I'm in love. I'm completely blown away. I am changed forever because now I know what honest writing looks like. 

Eileen is a young woman who lives with her father, a severe alcoholic, and works in an all-male juvenile prison in the late 1960s. This book recounts her last week before she leaves her hometown and, for better or for worse, creates a new life for herself.

It's a short but incredibly deep character study. Incredibly deep. Between the intimate details we learn about Eileen's bowel movements, unhygienic habits and self-destructive tendencies, we are granted memories and anecdotes that gradually help us form a comprehensive image of her tragic home life, family life and upbringing. The complete image, to me, is something Eileen herself would love - a high resolution capture of something so unsettling you can't look away.

There is a plot here (if I were to complain I'd complain about the climax) but the beauty of this book is in Eileen's brutal voice as she considers her father, her identity, her body, her surroundings, the people around her. I was shocked, at first, uncomfortable, then I was judgmental of Eileen - she's so unstable, she's troubled, she's abhorrent, she's disgusting, unclean - and then I realized: nope, she's normal. She's not troubled, she's just raw and unfiltered. And yes, perhaps she's a victim of unfortunate circumstances that cause her habits to become a little extreme. But I can't judge her, really - she just says what we all think, what we all contemplate; she vocalizes what we all consider and are tempted by and observe in others and ourselves. As Ottessa Moshfegh put it, “Eileen is not perverse. I think she’s totally normal … I haven’t written a freak character; I’ve written an honest character.” Either that or we're ALL perverse.

In fact, there are some things I related to immediately - Eileen's taste for the macabre, for example. "I didn't really read books about flowers or home economics. I liked books about awful things - murder, illness, death. I remember selecting one of the thickest books from the public library, a chronicle of ancient Egyptian medicine, to study the gruesome practice of pulling the brains of the dead out through the nose like skeins of yarn." I personally brag about my obsession with Egypt as a child - but I almost never admit that the reason I picked up books about Egypt in the library was to stare at the pictures of mummies. Of dead bodies.

And she stalks her crush (done that), imagines her colleagues in sexual scenarios (done that too) - sorry, is this too personal? Yeah, Eileen is like that. Like pulling out all your secrets out of the dryer - secrets you didn't even know were in there - and airing them on the balcony.

Along those lines, Moshfegh has some fascinating things to say about the more ... private ... details included: "The theatrics of graciousness and good manners are completely absurd to me. And I think they're really cruel, too. You can be sitting at a formal dinner with someone who you know is in a lot of pain, but depending on where you are you have to go through this charade and talk about how delicious the fucking salmon is, or whatever. So I like writing about the things that people spend their whole lives trying to pretend aren't there. Like pimples."

(Read the whole interview, it's amazing. Favorite quote: "At school, I learned: fuck school.")

I'm sorry, I know. I'm getting too deep, I think. I've hyperfocused on one aspect. Stuff happens in this book, I promise, and while it may not be enjoyable, exactly, it's captivating and wonderful and weird. I could go on and on about Eileen's relationship with her father, her infatuation with Rebecca, the fact that her name is Rebecca, the hideous crime surrounding Lee Polk, Eileen's hyper self-awareness and lack of self-respect... bottom line, this author is fucking talented, and this book is a joyful slap in the face.

Eileen on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Haunting of Hill House

5 stars. A young woman, after spending years as the primary caretaker for her recently-deceased mother, responds to an invitation to spend the summer at Hill House, an isolated house rumored to be haunted. There she meets carefree, feisty Theodora, handsome owner Luke and the delightfully academic Dr. Montague, who is determined to investigate supernatural phenomena in the house. You can guess what happens next ... or can you?

This book is absolute, terrifying perfection. I am so inspired by Shirley Jackson's writing here - it's gorgeous, captivating and completely unnerving. Eleanor's unreliability is portrayed with such beautiful, unsettling prose - prose that weaves threads of isolation, sexual repression, desire, identity, femininity, etc. into a blanket as cozy (for a fan of horror) as it is torturous. 

I know it's full of tropes and shallow characters, but I happen to love horror tropes and there is nothing stale here. In fact, there is something that feels - even decades after it was written - revolutionary. Not just because of the lesbianism (it's blatant and a cornerstone of Eleanor's journey, sorry not sorry). The psychological terror depicted here would horrify anyone. The scares are soft but stayed with me for a long while and ... made me think. I can't remember the last time a horror story made me think. I felt this book deeply as a woman struggling to establish and embrace an identity - to reconcile what's expected of me + what I want; the pain of growing up and becoming an adult; etc. 

And The Haunting of Hill House is incredibly funny. There is a sharp, dark sense of humor here that cuts the tension and strengthens the dialogue. Eleanor's self-conscious naiveté is as adorable as it is relatable even as there is a sense that she is disjointed or stunted in some way. We learn about her not just through her internal monologue but from the characters that orbit around her, first with affection, then concern, then suspicion. 

I suppose a bottom line could be that this book should smell musty, but it doesn't. It's fresh. Another bottom line could be that this book is arguably the scariest ever written. Because it is, or is at least close to the top. I think the bottom line for me, though, is that this book is so much more than it promises; more than a simple ghost story; more than we rightfully deserve. The Haunting of Hill House is a gift and a treasure and should be recognized as such.

The Haunting of Hill House on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue

4 stars. Aww, how cute! Simply adorable! For some reason this was much more lighthearted than I expected, and much more ... adventurous. The stakes are never that high and the angst is a bit, well, angsty, but I really enjoyed this humorous little book.

I loved getting to know Monty, who begins about as far away from a fearless hero as you'll find in literature, his brave sister and his quietly noble travel companion / best friend / love interest. There are so many shenanigans I could hardly keep up - thievery, drunken debauchery, piracy, alchemy, numerous delicious illegal acts and just a hint of magic. They all add zest to this extremely heartwarming 18th century coming-of-age story.

I know it's shouted from the rooftops these days, but yes, representation matters. We have a bisexual protagonist in love with an epileptic biracial man - more stories like this, please. And take note - the representation here is done well. This isn't diversity for the sake of diversity, this book's message is folded with extreme care into its extremely well-written pages. The incredibly painful subjects of child abuse and chronic illness are handled with so much delicacy its almost breathtaking.

I docked a star because I suffer from really horrible secondhand embarrassment and couldn't stand Monty's many missteps in the first half of this book. I also find True Love tiresome. But seriously - read this book. I really, really enjoyed it, and I will read it again and again. After all, "what's the use of temptations if we don't yield to them?"

The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Valley of the Dolls

3 stars. Well, isn't this just the tangy, sour glass of lemonade I've been looking for since spring turned to summer.

At first glance, this book, which follows three women as they navigate a merciless and drug-fueled entertainment industry in the 40s and 50s, feels very ahead of its time. The men and the women are equally complex and equally capable of heartfelt good and destructive evil. It explores gender and identity and relationships with a sharp and witty voice that felt especially relevant in the wake of the #metoo movement (yes, fifty years later and not much has changed). I'm not surprised Susann's painfully realistic depiction of sex and sexuality was labeled as "dirty" and slapped with censors. 

Yes, it's mesmerizing, entertaining, witty and rings very true. When the publisher gave the manuscript to his wife to read, she famously said, "I feel like I picked up the phone and I was listening in on a conversation of women talking about how their husbands are in bed. Who would hang up on a conversation like that?" I totally reveled in the juicy bits and enjoyed the lightly-veiled references.

But overall it wasn't, for me, a particular fun or enjoyable book to read. I absolutely adored it and I am in awe of the unusual plotting, but I felt tight with tension throughout the first three quarters, vibrating like a plucked string or taut rubber band. I believe this is because, as a woman, I could feel that under the polka dots and the champagne and the boisterous appeal of show business in the 50s, I was watching a tragedy unfold.

Back before the age when all of us women heaved a collective sigh and admitted, with a combination of fear and relief, that we can't indeed "have it all," there were many Annes, many Jennifers, and many Neelys. Chewed up and spat out by the world - by the men of the world, in most cases. But this is not the tragedy to which I refer. The tragedy is that many of these women, knowingly or unknowingly, jumped into the mouth themselves. 

Valley of the Dolls, much to the delight of its fame-hungry author, will have a legacy as long as its in print. I think it very admirably says a lot, almost unintentionally, about ... well, a lot. But I can't ignore the simmering anger I felt upon finishing. Men are rats. Fleas on rats. And so are women. The end.

Valley of the Dolls on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: My Brilliant Friend (The Neapolitan Novels #1)

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. Visiting art museums as a child, I always preferred narrative art over portraits and landscapes. I liked putting together the visual clues, drawing inferences from the content, and using my imagination to fill in the rest. Like a typical child, I was attracted to the excitement, the illustrations, the battle scenes, the hidden elements that truly tell a story. Very occasionally, though, I'd come across a portrait that mesmerized, or a landscape that took my breath away. I remember viewing Whistler's Symphony in White, No. 1: The White Girl at age 10, and being totally and completely captivated. She's so pretty, so magnetic, and I saw layers and layers of personality in her face. Just as Whistler's portrait held surprising depth for me at age 10, this book is, perhaps, one of the most unexpected page turners I've ever encountered.

A lot happens in My Brilliant Friend. Many things occur. And yet it doesn't feel action-packed. I'm aware that some readers give up halfway through this book, frustrated with the lack of forward movement. Sometimes it dragged for me, too. But as I really consider this story and its complexities, I realize that it is, in fact, a narrative portrait - not thrilling at first glance, but layered and personal, allowing the reader a very intimate and very in-depth look at a somewhat unreliable narrator's portrayal of her childhood, her family, her surroundings, her development, her education, and her closest friendship.

Most importantly, her friendship. The most precious and terrifying relationship in her life. This is a novel truly about Elena's friendship with Lila. She's painfully aware of the impact this friendship has had on her life, on her formative years, and how this friendship has shaped her attitude and her priorities and her idea of success, and she spends a lot of energy attempting to capture the details. From anyone else's pen, this might be repetitive, cliche, or boring, but coming from Ferrante and her incredible translator, the story is engaging, wonderful, and from my perspective, easy to relate to.

Yes - to be a woman is to compete with other women. At least, in my experience. The "frenemy" concept is real. The constant comparison is real. The jealousy, the manipulation, the drive to be better, the validation that comes from the approval of your friend. The roller coaster of feeling superior only to be dashed by her inevitable success. The race to be first - first at anything. All real. I don't know about other women, or other men, but all of this was commonplace in my childhood and adolescence. And while I suppose I've matured, and those around me have grown up as well, thinking about it - remembering - brings up the same intense emotions as it did back then. The same anger and fear and the need to be better.

My Brilliant Friend is beautiful. It's a work of art. It moved me and made my heart beat faster. It's full of fascinating details about Naples and poverty and politics and religion and tradition. And I can't finish without addressing the fact that this book includes as much about masculinity as it does femininity. Elena's observations are honest and strong.

My Brilliant Friend on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Seventh Sense

2 stars. I think the most surprising thing about this book for me was that … it wasn’t actually all that surprising. I don’t know if it’s because I read it after the 2016 election or after the Zuckerberg testimony, or maybe because I’ve really never known a world that’s unconnected, but it really wasn’t all that … enlightening. 

Now, I grew up during a time when a lot of technology was emerging in the average household, and I, like everyone else my age, asked for a cell phone, asked for a screenname, asked for internet time and was told absolutely not – I was taught, essentially, not to trust it. My parents were always vocal about the risks and the threats out there.

So the idea that the connected nature of the world must be considered at all levels of decision-making, analysis, problem-solving, etc. was not particularly groundbreaking to me. I also felt, as someone who is not interested in managing another person let alone world domination, there weren’t many actionable takeaways for an average consumer who understands the nature and the implications of this networked world and enjoys it anyway. 

I was impressed with the writing, I appreciated the historical context and the references and the quotes and the pithy phrases – it’s very accessible – and I certainly enjoyed learning and flexing my philosophical muscles – but it didn’t spark anything in me. If anything, it just reinforced something that I’ve always known but perhaps never could never articulate – to me, the author tried to package an existing thread of mainstream thinking as a revelation. The fact that the evolution of networks is omniscient, constantly evolving and should be remembered … considered … recognized everywhere is an important diagnosis, but an unoriginal one.

The Seventh Sense on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Secret History

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

4 stars. What could I possibly say about The Secret History that hasn’t already been said? There’s so much in Donna Tartt’s writing - so much detail, so much exposition, so much meticulous plotting. One of her gifts - truly - is that she includes all this in a way that feels completely natural. It’s brilliant, and weird. It left me feeling worn out maybe a little confused, in a good way.

I mean … it’s completely incredible, deeply intellectual and … full of first world problems. It epitomizes the use of sophisticated language and smacks you in the face with privileged stupidity. It’s carefully fleshed out and sharply thorough and somehow the lack of character development feels okay. What am I even saying? How can I even describe it? Like I said, it feels natural. It’s wrong and it’s right.

The Secret History is a smooth, robust, heavy book written without any obvious effort; the words birthed from a mind soaked in literary thinking.

The Secret History on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Behind Her Eyes

5 stars. Hahahahaha. Awesome. 

Quick, super high-level summary: A lonely single mother, Louise, has a drunken encounter with a man in the bar, only to discover that he's her new boss. And married. To a beautiful, intriguing, seemingly-perfect woman named Adele. Soon, as she gets to know both of them, she begins to uncover secrets ... upon secrets ... upon secrets.

There's a lot that made this book successful. At first glance I was annoyed with the author for trying to channel Gillian Flynn (everyone tries to channel Gillian and everyone fails, because she writes stories that are thrilling, not thrillers ... but that's a story for another day). I felt hints of Paula Hawkins and Jane Harper, too, so I was annoyed and frustrated and all set to mock this book into oblivion for feeling so derivative. It appeared, in every sense of the word, to play by the rules.

And then things took a turn.

And then things took another turn.

And I was so into it.

Things I loved:

Sarah Pinborough's knack for writing different voices. I've read books that switch POV unsuccessfully because the author can't write more than one reliably believable tone and the characters are virtually indistinguishable. Here we have two/three individuals with their own quirks, interests, personality accents. It's wonderful and fresh and impressive.

The fact that despite very weird, wild, far-fetched, almost-maybe-supernatural events moved the plot forward, the characters behaved almost exactly like I'd expect them to - that is to say, realistically.

Pinborough's absolute, unwavering commitment. This wouldn't have worked had it been half-assed. I know there are complaints about the characters acting in ways that are ... expected, perhaps, reinforcing a caricature. But that's partly what made the puzzle pieces here fall into place - because they all fit the way they're expected to. That's a little abstract and might not make sense, but it really, really worked for me.

I know, I know, that ending (it's true - #WTFThatEnding). Sick. So sick. And somehow so satisfying in a crunchy, tangy way that hurts in all the right ways. Like taking a shot. I'm really, really blown away. The writing is good AND the plot is good AND the characters are good and I highly recommend this as a soul-sucking book that's worth your time. Convincing? No, maybe not. But just let ... it ... go and let yourself be entertained.

Behind Her Eyes on: Amazon | Goodreads