Review: Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)

4 stars. I really, really enjoyed The Dry and COULD NOT WAIT for Force of Nature - and, thank goodness, I wasn't disappointed. Jane Harper has once again achieved a short, sharp mystery with a capable, well-intentioned hero.

Several months after the events of The Dry, Federal Police Agent Aaron Falk is forced to investigate the disappearance of a source in an isolated forest. His source - a CFO with a  mean streak - walked in with four companions on a corporate retreat, and didn't walk out. The story alternates his present-day investigation with flashbacks to the "retreat" and slowly, excruciatingly, the truth is revealed.

Upon finishing The Dry, I felt like I had just read a completely classic thriller - with all the would-be tropes, cliffhangers, shady characters and twists and turns to be expected - except IT WAS REALLY GOOD. The writing was REALLY GOOD. And I feel the same way about Force of Nature. The writing is again atmospheric and fantastic. The mystery is compelling and concise. And the setting - with the paranoia and fear of getting lost in the woods - is borderline terrifying.

If I had one complaint it would be that this one didn't feel as sinister as the first. The outcome just felt unfortunate, rather than gritty-dark. But that's just a preference and everything made sense/felt right.

Aaron Falk, my boo, my favorite somewhat-damaged detective. You are so good, so reliably good. I will follow you anywhere. Can't wait for book number three.

Force of Nature on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Cloud Atlas

5 stars. This book is the most beautiful, breathtaking gut punch. It's a piece of literary genius; philosophical and compelling. It made me feel small - in a good way, like when I visit New York or Tokyo or stand next to the ocean. I was captivated, almost against my will, and I can't wait to read it again and again and again.

Allow me to write a longer summary than usual. It will help me sort through the plot and the themes. SPOILERS TO FOLLOW.

Cloud Atlas collects the stories of six individuals and presents them in a puzzle box. The first story, THE PACIFIC JOURNAL OF ADAM EWING, takes place in the mid-1800s and follows a notary traveling from the Chatham Isles to California. HIs narrative ends abruptly and the book shifts to LETTERS FROM ZEDELGHEM, a collection of letters from a bisexual composer to his lover, reporting on his many amusing exploits of the 1930s. This composer encounters a copy of Adam Ewing's journal and is fascinated.

The book then shifts again to HALF-LIVES, THE FIRST LUISA REY MYSTERY, a pulpy thriller about a feisty journalist and her quest to expose a corporation for playing fast and loose with the safety precautions on their nuclear reactor. Rey, in the midst of dodging 1970s clichés and cliffhangers, comes across the composer's letters from the previous section and is desperate to find the rest.

Falling into place, yet? I know, it's great.

Leaving Luisa's fate unknown, we shift to modern times to read THE GHASTLY ORDEAL OF TIMOTHY CAVENDISH, the memoir of an elderly publisher who gets trapped in a nursing home against his will (and ... is sent the first half of a manuscript about Luisa Rey). Cavendish is colorful and - honestly, a little grotesque - but we root for him all the same.

Number five reveals AN ORISON OF SONMI-451, the transcript of an interview with a clone from the far future. Sonmi has "ascended" - she has taught herself to think and feel, and in her own transcendent way attempts to right the wrongs she sees in the world. She also enjoys the first half of the movie version of Cavendish's ghastly ordeal.

Lastly we read SLOOSHA'S CROSSIN' AN' EV'RYTHIN' AFTER. Civilization has fallen. The human population has fractured into isolated tribes living off the earth and avoiding savages. Zachry, a goatherder, worships Sonmi like a god, though he and his people don't understand her origins or the true context of her declarations. 

And then we switch back to Sonmi, who declares in the last moment of her interview that she'd like to watch the rest of the movie about Timothy Cavendish. Cavendish escapes his nursing home prison and reads the second half of the manuscript about Luisa Rey. Luisa survives several ridiculous threats, including a hit man, a bombing and a shootout on a boat to obtain the rest of the composer's letters. The composer, in the last moments of his life, reads the final chapters of Adam Ewing's journal, who closes with “My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?” 

There is, admittedly, a ton to unpack here. My observations and thoughts are as follows:

First - David Mitchell can write anything he wants. Each segment of this book is carefully crafted and completely different. Each character has a distinguishable voice (in some cases, literally) - which is so rare! He emulates styles and forges his own. He can be irritating, and meta as hell, but Cloud Atlas is so fucking impressive. I would've loved to study this in college just so I could discuss and understand everything about it from the word choice to the philosophical questions to the structure.

Second - theeeeeeeeeemes. Theme city. Themes everywhere, as far as the eye can see. Mitchell infuses his work with explorations of the primitive vs. the civilized; nature vs. nurture; sacrifice; power; slavery; mortality ... and all of them - for the most part - bonk you on the head: "Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future." "Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty." Etc. Yeah, there isn't a lot of subtlety here. But it's not bad. It's just heavy and philosophical and leaves you full of joy and sadness at the same time.

Cloud Atlas isn't perfect, I know. It requires commitment and patience and a high tolerance for tricky dialogue, and at times is a little too clever for its own good. It was a rewarding read for me, though, almost comforting. I think I understand the questions it asks and tries to answer. I can't wait to read it again and pull out the details I missed - and to just fall into that world again, even for a moment. After all, “Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.” 

Cloud Atlas on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Night Film

5 stars. What a fucking amazing premise. What a good idea. I'm so in awe of this fantastic, inspired plot. The first 100 pages gave me chills. 

I mean.

The 24-year-old daughter of a reclusive cult filmmaker, also a classically trained pianist, commits suicide - and a disgraced investigative journalist decides to poke around the case. 

I mean!!

Also - I had no idea this was semi-epistolary when I picked it up, but I so, so appreciated the articles and slide shows and extra details. They demonstrated the author's special care for exposition here and made the story seem that much more real.

However. About a quarter of the way through this I started to really lose faith in the characters. The protagonist starts out as the surly but charming ex-journalist who flirts with rebellion but is ultimately credible. And then he flies way past surly and way past charming and becomes a sort of arrogant asshole who makes ridiculous choices and demonstrates absolutely zero common sense.

And then we have his two sidekicks, Nora and Hopper, who - again - fly right past charming/quirky and right into weirdo territory. 

Compelling, nonetheless. We have an incredibly rich tapestry here, and in fact the author excels at weaving superb minor characters in with her less-than-impressive major ones. We have gorgeous sequences with gorgeous writing on classical music, on film, on black magic, on secret clubs (and that's just the first half). 

It's like the author made a mood board and then somehow incorporated into her story every. single. thing. she had tacked up. There's old Hollywood, sister feuds, puzzle boxes, demonic possession ... satanic rituals ... It's artistic and heartpounding and, beyond all that, a pretty solid mystery.

Ultimately, I really and truly recommend this book. It's a classic rabbit hole tale - except reaching the bottom isn't the point. It's more of an ode - a testament to - the rabbit hole itself. Enjoy. Embrace the darkness. Embrace the descent. You won't regret it.

Night Film on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Picnic at Hanging Rock

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. How unexpectedly wonderful! I'm delighted! I don't know what I expected - perhaps something slightly pulpier / amateur, but this book is built on some seriously sophisticated writing. It's old school in a way that's completely charming - not so old school that it feels archaic or stale or stuffy.

Joan Lindsay weaves a dark and thrilling tale of disappearance, murder, insanity, and potential forces in the universe beyond our comprehension. She plays with time, nature and mystery - all three intensify into something sinister and disturbing. She's extremely skilled at infusing her characters with strong, tenacious identities (a few of which she is sharply critical) and also extremely funny. "Except for those people over there with the wagonette we might be the only living creatures in the whole world,’ said Edith, airily dismissing the entire animal kingdom at one stroke."

Her nature writing is luxurious and rich. She paints a wonderful and transporting atmosphere through which this simple story swirls and juts and penetrates. There's tension amidst all that beauty and natural splendor. It grows and grows until the very end, at which point I was genuinely shocked.

Picnic at Hanging Rock radiates possibility. I don't believe in magic, spirits, the supernatural ... but this book made me sort of sit back and go, why not? The answer to its central mystery could be uncanny, or there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation. The beauty of this book is that I walked away convinced it could go either way. 6 out of 5 stars.

Picnic at Hanging Rock on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Handmaid's Tale

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 can be said about this book that hasn't already been said? It's awkward to even attempt an analysis - I doubt I could draw a unique conclusion from The Handmaid's Tale even if I spent years trying. Not only has this book been picked apart word by word since its publication, it's also a fairly easy book to analyze. The message is clear. The message is loud.

And yet ... one size does not fit all. The beauty of this book - of all books, really - is that every single reader can interpret something entirely different. What I found to be a deafening warning could be an ideal aspiration for another. Let's hope not, but it could be.

Rather than jump into all the pushing and shoving, instead of extrapolating comprehensively about the overarching themes of this book, I'll just point out a few things that stuck with me, with me personally, when I finished reading it.

First of all, men are barely in this book. We have male characters, and it would seem that a primary focus of the new society is the relationship between men and women. But our protagonist attaches much more significance to the actions of women. She observes more closely - and is much more critical of - the behavior of her female counterparts. This does not mean that she discounts the importance of men; she acknowledges her need and desire for them and also the fact that she is oppressed by them. But complacency comes in many forms, and the women of Gilead, under Atwood's eye, are guilty of oppression just as much as the men are.

Secondly, Atwood's choice of the color red is brilliant. Red symbolizes anger, lust, sin, sexual sin specifically, and adultery. It's also visually striking - the opposite of camouflage. It can be powerful and attractive and distinctive. It's intense. The color red, though, also symbolizes menstruation and fertility - holiness, in the eyes of Gilead's society. Here Atwood demonstrates the hypocrisy of this society's "ideals."

Lastly (and I know this isn't a particularly unique response - see first paragraph above), my reaction to this book was incredibly emotional. I suppose at the end of the day, upon finishing the epilogue, I felt ... hurt. My feeling were hurt. I know that seems lame and petty and like something a twelve-year-old would say, but I felt the accuracy of Atwood's forecast and I felt the fear and the pain and the idea of "wow, I can see this happening."

Disclaimer: I am extremely lucky and have been afforded a tremendous amount of privilege in my life. I do not mean to position myself as a victim. But I'm a woman, so I have faced and will always face the risk of being considered "less." Reading this book triggered a lot of feelings about that, but under all the anger and fury and resentment and determination, it just fucking hurt.

Remember when I said that there is pretty much no room for commentary on this book because it's so universally-analyzed? Whoops. Bottom line: this is one of the most important books of all time and everyone should read it.

The Handmaid's Tale on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Woman in the Window

4 stars. I'm so excited about this! I went in with low expectations and got something truly excellent! Congratulations to A.J. Finn for a spectacular, thrilling debut.

Anna, an alcoholic, agoraphobic ex-child psychiatrist, sees something horrific occur in her next door neighbor's house. Thanks to her less-than-healthy habits and a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder, everyone - the cops, her neighbors, her loved ones - consider her to be unstable and attribute her frantic accusations to drug-induced hallucinations. Yeah, it's pretty much my worst nightmare. 

As Anna's grasp on reality unravels (or appears to, heh heh), we as readers are treated to a couple of classic red herrings, heart-pounding action and some truly epic twists. I was completely compelled to keep turning pages until I knew for sure what was going down. I also really loved the references to old movies - it demonstrated a sense of meta self-awareness often absent in thrillers like this. Like a wink or a nod or something.

Keep in mind - this is nothing more than it promises to be. Quite simply, if you enjoyed The Girl on the Train, you will enjoy this. If you didn't, you won't. The language is vivid (seriously, I might actually stay away from red wine for awhile). It's tightly-written, fast-paced and even if your mind isn't blown, you'll have a good time. I docked a star because there's a twist that happens to be a super particular pet peeve of mine (predictable, yup, but mostly just lazy). 

But ... YES!!! The Woman in the Window, who knew?! Really fun, really awesome reading experience.

The Woman in the Window on: Amazon | Goodreads

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