A Piece of the World by Christina Baker Kline Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“What she wants most - what she truly yearns for - is what any of us want: to be seen.”- A Piece of the World, Christina Baker Kline

"Later he told me that he’d been afraid to show me the painting. He thought I wouldn’t like the way he portrayed me: dragging myself across the field, fingers clutching dirt, my legs twisted behind. The arid moonscape of wheatgrass and timothy. That dilapidated house in the distance, looming up like a secret that won’t stay hidden." 

To Christina Olson, the entire world was her family’s remote farm in the small coastal town of Cushing, Maine. Born in the home her family had lived in for generations, and increasingly incapacitated by illness, Christina seemed destined for a small life. Instead, for more than twenty years, she was host and inspiration for the artist Andrew Wyeth, and became the subject of one of the best known American paintings of the twentieth century.

As she did in her beloved smash bestseller Orphan Train, Christina Baker Kline interweaves fact and fiction in a powerful novel that illuminates a little-known part of America’s history. Bringing into focus the flesh-and-blood woman behind the portrait, she vividly imagines the life of a woman with a complicated relationship to her family and her past, and a special bond with one of our greatest modern artists.

Told in evocative and lucid prose, A Piece of the World is a story about the burdens and blessings of family history, and how artist and muse can come together to forge a new and timeless legacy.

Living close to New York City, I've been to the Museum of Modern Art more times than I can count, often with my sister. While she's always been more interested in the contemporary exhibits, I prefer the older art on the top floors. And I always make a stop by Christina's World, even though it's admittedly to visit Hopper's House by the Railroad which is right next to it since he's my favorite painter (if you can't tell by my profile pic). Still, Christina's World holds a special place in my heart because there's just something about it I love. The girl in the middle of the field, staring up at the house and barn, that being her whole world, it kind of makes me ache a little. Wyeth's not one of my favorite painters, but I like the bleak New England scenes he paints. They're very American Gothic, which I love.

A Piece of the World attempts to lend a voice to Christina Olsen, the woman in the painting, which admittedly was not something that appealed to me very much. I've never been that in to books that endeavor to "find the woman behind the famous painting"; it's the same reason why I've never read The Girl With the Pearl Earring. I don't really want to read a fictionalized biography about Madame X or Mona Lisa, because I'm content with coming up with my own ideas as to who they were and, if I'm still curious, I'll read an actual factual source. And yet, I picked up A Piece of the World because it seemed interesting and I wanted some historical fiction, dammit. 

No, I have not read The Orphan Train and I probably never will because I'm sick of WWII historical fiction, dammit, and I know that it will be another The Nightingale knockoff and I don't have the energy for that right now. But I tried not to let that stop me form reading this book.

It's definitely a women's lit historical fiction popularized by the likes of Kristin Hannah, who isn't very interesting to me. Still, Kline has real talent, and I liked a lot of her prose, especially the ending and beginning. The book promises so much, intrigue, the ocean, witches, a book so quintessentially New England it practically smells the the seaside. Which I love, because, hey, New Englander here, and proud of it (except in sports, then I'm New York all the way). Does the book deliver?

Eh, kind of. The beautiful prose isn't really constant throughout the whole book, and I wished that, instead of time jumping, Kline went with a more traditional straightforward narrative. But that's just me, I don't really like that as a narrative device, I rarely even like it when historical fiction novels have a chapter or two that take place in present time.

There's also very little about witches or the sea. Instead, it focuses more on women's issues during the time, like finding a man or the fear of becoming a spinster, things I can't really say appeal to me all that much in historical fiction. Still, it paints a very vivid picture as to who the author thinks Christina was, which basically amounted to a bitter, lonely old spinster who never was allowed to be anything. There are a few obviously author-inserted bits, like her love of Emily Dickinson is clearly because Kline was reading a lot of Emily Dickinson and thought the two things connected quite well, and the half-baked bits about Sadie Hamm or Bacon or whatever her last name is being her friend, as well as Walton and her relationship with her nephew. Too much time was devoted to Walton, not enough in making Christina's other relationships feel real.

The big question is, does this ruin Christina's World for me? I guess not. I don't have a new respect for either the painting or the girl in the painting; I still like the painting just as much as I did prior to reading the book. I don't regret reading A Piece of the World, as I did like the writing and the portrayal of the Maine seaside, even if I did think it could have been better than it was. All in all, this was a solid book. 

7.5 out of 10

Never Let You Go by Chevy Stevens Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“To spend her life thinking I left her by choice. I would try harder. I would be a better wife. I would make it work. That was over a year ago. Nothing had gotten better.”- Never Let You Go, Chevy Stevens

Eleven years ago, Lindsey Nash escaped into the night with her young daughter and left an abusive relationship. Her ex-husband, Andrew, was sent to jail and Lindsey started over with a new life.

Now, Lindsey is older and wiser, with her own business and a teenage daughter who needs her more than ever. When Andrew is finally released from prison, Lindsey believes she has cut all ties and left the past behind her. But she gets the sense that someone is watching her, tracking her every move. Her new boyfriend is threatened. Her home is invaded, and her daughter is shadowed. Lindsey is convinced it's her ex-husband, even though he claims he's a different person. But has he really changed? Is the one who wants her dead closer to home than she thought?

Chevy Stevens, like Gillian Flynn and Megan Abbott, is one of those super popular thriller writers, mostly with the women's lit crowd who are too edgy for Jodi Picoult. I don't have a problem with her popularity, though I did read one of her books- Still Missing- and thought it was only okay. The twist ending felt contrived and the writing was nothing special so it didn't get much higher than a three stars from me. Never Let You Go, not to be confused with the phenomenal Never Let Me Go, only solidified my Still Missing-conceived view of her.

The main thing that did not work for me was the writing/narrative- it's hard to separate the two. Stevens is a functional writer, but not a particularly artful one. She's not necessarily what I would consider to be a bad writer- she's not SM Parker- but she's also not Tana French either. She's not even Paula Hawkins, whose style I do kind of like, or Megan Abbott who I genuinely believe is a good writer- in small doses. I could tell reading this book that she went for an emphasis of plot and characters over writing, which is fine by me- in fact, I kind of prefer it to those who favor writing over everything else, which always feels hollow and self-indulgent to me- think The Night Circus. Still, it comes across in her writing- lots of telling, little showing, buckets of exposition, etc.

I wasn't too keen on her characters, either. My biggest issue with the abusive relationship depicted was that it came across as if Stevens' extent of knowledge of abusive relationships amounted to the Wikipedia article on it. Of course, I don't know her so I'm not implying anything, and it is true that a lot of Andrew's actions were textbook abusive behaviors, but there was something about it that felt hollow and unrealistic. 

Thought that may just be because I couldn't really connect to any of the characters. I guess I liked Lindsey and Sophie okay, but they felt... fluid, like their personalities, likes, dislikes, and interests would change at the author's whim. All the characters felt like that, and that's not really my favorite means of telling a story. But again, I couldn't hate anyone, because they weren't given any traits that I instantly despise. Lindsey is not a martyr mom, Sophie is not an obnoxious teenager, and they both had problems that felt real to some extent, like the mom disapproving of her daughter's boyfriend by projecting on him.

So the thing Stevens has really going for her is her plots. And I admit, she comes up with some really great ones even if she does come across as being a Gillian Flynn-lite writer. The idea behind Still Missing hooked me in to it, and, while this book didn't interest me nearly as much, I still wondered where she would go with it. I wasn't crazy about the twist and thought it was slow-moving, but I think Stevens wanted to take risks and I have to respect that.

I don't think I'll be reading much more from Chevy Stevens, but you never know. She's the kind of writer you read when you don't want to think, and with the week I've had that works. This book was perfectly mediocre.

7 out of 10

The Heart’s Invisible Furies by John Boyne Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“If there is one thing I've learned in more than seven decades of life, it's that the world is a completely fucked-up place. You never know what's around the corner and it's often something unpleasant.”- The Heart's Invisible Furies, John Boyne

Cyril Avery is not a real Avery -- or at least, that's what his adoptive parents tell him. And he never will be. But if he isn't a real Avery, then who is he? 

Born out of wedlock to a teenage girl cast out from her rural Irish community and adopted by a well-to-do if eccentric Dublin couple via the intervention of a hunchbacked Redemptorist nun, Cyril is adrift in the world, anchored only tenuously by his heartfelt friendship with the infinitely more glamourous and dangerous Julian Woodbead. At the mercy of fortune and coincidence, he will spend a lifetime coming to know himself and where he came from and over his many years will struggle to discover an identity, a home, a country, and much more.

This should be a book that I would love. It’s the history of a gay man in Ireland, following him through time as he comes to accept himself. And yet, there was something about it I didn’t click with. The biggest problem with this book is that it lacked in subtlety, especially with the development of the characters.

The "good" characters or at least the ones we’re suppose to like are far too obvious for my liking, as are the "bad" characters. Morals are delivered with the blow of a sledgehammer. This isn’t a quiet book by any means, which is likely why it didn’t work for me. I like quiet books, because I hate being lectured at no matter how much I agree with the lecturer and I often felt lectured at in this case. The characters that we are supposed to like are smart and have an air of superiority or have opinions that line up with the main character, whereas the characters that we are supposed to dislike are usually stupid or are the exact opposite of the characters that are likable. It comes across as being very bitter, and I wonder how cathartic the book was to write on the part of the author. I can’t blame him for that, I write to do the same, but I don’t publish my works.

But I don’t know John Boyne personally, so I’m just speculating here. I’ve never even read anything by Boyne, not even The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, but hey, reading this book was one hell of a first impression.

I did like the sense of humor in the book, though. I can’t describe what it reminded me of but it was my kind of humor. My favorite scenes in the book were the ones where Cyril’s adoptive parents showed up, because they were wonderful comic relief. Those scenes really pulled me through the book. 

I also liked how on some level it reminded me of Brideshead Revisited, mostly Cyril trying to have a relationship and marriage with Alice, Julian’s sister, as a replacement for Julian. Ironic when you think about it, especially given how Catholic Brideshead is and how Anti-Catholic this book is. Then again, most people chose to forget just how Catholic Brideshead so that they can focus on the sheer amount of homoerotic subtext and sometimes text-text (depends on how much you read into certain scenes) in the book, to the point where some actually consider it an LGBT book.

I felt nothing towards most of the characters because they felt like characters. Even Cyril never really crossed the line from fictional to realistic for me. And yet, my favorite character, Charles, was the kind of man who could only be a book character, and yet Boyne had so much fun with him that I had to like him. He was definitely more tolerable than some of the other characters, like Catherine, whom I often wanted to punch.

Of all the books I’ve read this year, the book that reminds me of this one the most is Life: An Exploded Diagram. Both books inserted historical elements with the life of their main character to add a unique twist on the coming of age tale, with often humorous elements. I think Life did it better. The humor was warmer, the characters felt like people, not just mouthpieces, whereas in this book they often did. Again, if you must lecture me do it in a way where it doesn’t feel as obvious.

So, I don’t know if I will ever read anything else by John Boyne. It’s pretty safe to say that I probably will never read The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, as if it hasn’t happened by now it probably won’t ever. I didn’t hate this book- it was so long that if I hated it I wouldn’t stick with it- and there is enough good in it that I even liked it at some points. My main complaint about The Heart’s Invisible Furies also isn’t the same complaint a lot of people have with it, which was that it was too long. I gave it some leeway there- it’s a character study taking place over the course of many decades, of course it’s long and slow-moving; though I do agree with the comments stating how built on convenience it is. No, my main complaint is how unsubtle it is. I’m in the minority here and acknowledge it, and honestly I wish I could be one of the five stars reviews. Oh well. Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t.

5.5-6 out of 10

The Perfect Stranger by Megan Miranda Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“The bad guy, the one we could only imagine in the mask, in the shadows - it was always closer than we liked to imagine.”- The Perfect Stranger, Megan Miranda

Confronted by a restraining order and the threat of a lawsuit, failed journalist Leah Stevens needs to get out of Boston when she runs into an old friend, Emmy Grey, who has just left a troubled relationship. Emmy proposes they move to rural Pennsylvania, where Leah can get a teaching position and both women can start again. But their new start is threatened when a woman with an eerie resemblance to Leah is assaulted by the lake, and Emmy disappears days later.

Determined to find Emmy, Leah cooperates with Kyle Donovan, a handsome young police officer on the case. As they investigate her friend’s life for clues, Leah begins to wonder: did she ever really know Emmy at all? With no friends, family, or a digital footprint, the police begin to suspect that there is no Emmy Grey. Soon Leah’s credibility is at stake, and she is forced to revisit her past: the article that ruined her career. To save herself, Leah must uncover the truth about Emmy Grey—and along the way, confront her old demons, find out who she can really trust, and clear her own name.

Everyone in this rural Pennsylvanian town has something to hide—including Leah herself. How do you uncover the truth when you are busy hiding your own?

One of the weirdest new trends I've noticed in thrillers is the setting being Western Pennsylvania or at least the Appalachian Mountains. I don't have a problem with this- I couldn't, that's where my dad's side is from- provided there is no air of superiority or snobbishness on the part of the main character. Happily, there is none, or at least very little, of that in this book. 

Another observation- I feel like publishing companies abuse the term "psychological thriller". I rarely find that "psychological thrillers" are actually psychological thrillers, usually they're just straight up mystery-thrillers. When I think of psychological thrillers, I think of The Tell-Tale Heart, or The Blair Witch Project, stories that focus predominantly on the psyche of their characters and work to get into the reader's mind, too. I don't necessarily consider this book to be a psychological thriller by that definition. While Miranda tried to do that to some extent, it didn't really work and as a result just felt like a normal thriller.

But anyway, I picked up The Perfect Stranger mostly because I read one of her YA mysteries- The Safest Lies- and remembered really liking it. I mean, I don't remember anything else about it, but it was one of those books that just sucks you in and by the time you come out of it, the only thing you remember about the story is that it was pretty good. The Perfect Stranger is kind of like that- I was definitely sucked into it- but I remembered more of it and it wasn't as good as The Safest Lies.

I originally wanted to read All the Missing Girls first, but that book was checked out and this book wasn't, so I read it instead. There's nothing in this book as far as I can tell that would spoil or even connect it to All the Missing Girls, so I have no idea why it's billed as a sequel or companion. Maybe someone who has read All the Missing Girls can tell me?

But anyway, the book. The weakest part of the book is probably the prose. It's overwritten, to say the least, like Miranda didn't know when to stop. It's the kind of writing that's really only excusable if the book in question is a) a debut novel or b) if the story and characters are so good it makes up for it. 

So a is out. But what about b? The short answer is no. The long answer is that this is very much a generic thriller novel. Sure, the plot seems interesting based on the inside cover, but Miranda takes the uniqueness out of it and makes it seem like every other thriller novel. She also adds a lot into the book that has nothing to do with the plot, like the story line as to why Leah lost her job. That whole part seemed unnecessary to me, and distracting too.

The characters weren't much more unique, either. Leah was your smart, beautiful, etc etc heroine, who was once a true crime journalist though the way she talks about it you'd think she was a seasoned detective. She goes in depth about studying the cases and digging up leads and being the first on the crime scene and all I can think was "oh, so this is why detectives hate reporters". She reminded me as to why I don't always get along with journalists- a lot of them have this unbearable sense of self-righteousness and seem to think that their job is the most important one in the free world. Like, get over yourself already. This is especially apparent in Leah's obsession with the college case. I don't care if you have your heart in the right place, you don't go to the lengths that she did to get a story. A news article isn't a police investigation, and all she did was ruin people's lives in the process. 

There's also other characters, like a love interest with little chemistry and probably only in there out of some sense of obligation. To what, I don't know. None of the characters are particularly unique.

This also doesn't feel like that realistic a book. It's not unrealistic as books like Kelley Armstrong's Missing, but it's definitely not as ground in reality as some of Tana French's books. 

The Perfect Stranger is a perfectly middle of the road novel. I didn't hate it, but I didn't like it all that much either. It didn't make me angry the way Little Deaths did, and I think that definitely helped it. Miranda isn't breaking new ground in thriller land, she's barely even scratching the surface. I doubt I'll pick up another one of her books, but I'm fine with her being on the shelves.

5.5 out of 10

Little Deaths by Emma Flint Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“...but when tragedy strikes, there’s a tendency to assume that someone is different. Special. That there’s something about them that makes them the kind of person bad things happen to. Because the alternative—that bad things can happen to anyone, at any time—is unthinkable.”- Little Deaths, Emma Flint

Inspired by a true story, Little Deaths, like celebrated novels by Sarah Waters and Megan Abbott, is compelling literary crime fiction that explores the capacity for good and evil in us all.

It's 1965 in a tight-knit working-class neighborhood in Queens, New York, and Ruth Malone - a single mother who works long hours as a cocktail waitress - wakes to discover her two small children, Frankie Jr. and Cindy, have gone missing. Later that day, Cindy's body is found in a derelict lot a half mile from her home, strangled. Ten days later, Frankie Jr.'s decomposing body is found. Immediately, all fingers point to Ruth.

As police investigate the murders, the detritus of Ruth's life is exposed. Seen through the eyes of the cops, the empty bourbon bottles and provocative clothing which litter her apartment, the piles of letters from countless men and Ruth's little black book of phone numbers, make her a drunk, a loose woman - and therefore a bad mother. The lead detective, a strict Catholic who believes women belong in the home, leaps to the obvious conclusion: facing divorce and a custody battle, Malone took her children's lives.

Pete Wonicke is a rookie tabloid reporter who finagles an assignment to cover the murders. Determined to make his name in the paper, he begins digging into the case. Pete's interest in the story develops into an obsession with Ruth, and he comes to believe there's something more to the woman whom prosecutors, the press, and the public have painted as a promiscuous femme fatale. Did Ruth Malone violently kill her own children, is she a victim of circumstance - or is there something more sinister at play? 

In my Silent Child review, I mentioned that I hate a certain type of literary mothers I like to call the "martyr mothers". Books with martyr moms in them are usually told from their point of view and the reason why I hate them is because they are always so beautiful and pure and innocent and they're always long-suffering and it seems like the only reason they have children is to make themselves look like even more of a martyr. The only use their children have in the plot is to make themselves look better. And oh boy, do we have a case here in the form of Ruth Malone. Her life is so hard, she has to deal with two young kids all by herself and has to work long hours as a cocktail waitress and also has to do with the police going after her when her children turn up dead. I couldn't really blame the police for doing so, since she was the last person to see them alive and she always seemed like she was hiding something, like when she was protesting about the police searching her apartment and got annoyed when they pointed out the amount of booze bottles in the trash, or when they talked about how much she was drinking or how many guys she brought home. I don't know about you, but drinking and men coming and going a) isn't a sign of a good mother and b) means that there is very good chance that either she did it or one of her boyfriends did. That's just common sense.

I was also annoyed by the reporter, who became convinced she was innocent, why? Because Ruth was so bewitchingly beautiful that she couldn't have committed such a heinous crime and besides, she was a mother. How could a mother kill her own children? Andrea Yates, anybody? I mean, it doesn't happen often because, you know, nature and hormones and all that, but still, is there any reason why Ruth couldn't have killed them? 

Flint is absolutely horrible at fleshing out her characters, by the way. I mean, the detective was so transparently evil that it was obvious he was the bad guy right from when he ate spaghetti without closing his mouth. It's just plain bad writing and also kind of offensive to use someone's appearance or manners to show that they are the antagonist, just as bad as it is to use beauty to show how good and pure someone is. The only time one can get away with that is in fairy tales meant for children. 

But the thing that pissed me off the most, made me think of the godawful Silent Child the most, is the ending. So here we go:

WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW

It's revealed at the end that Frank did it, which I kind of figured because at some points it's fairly obvious- it annoyed me because Ruth couldn't have done it because she was a mother, but Frank sure as hell could have killed them even though he's a father- but I digress. It's why he killed the kids that really got me going, since it's revealed that he killed them to get Ruth's attention. Jesus fucking Christ, the death of two small children was all because Ruth was so beautiful and enchanting. The kids were never anything more than a way to show everyone how great Ruth was and in the end, were nothing more than a fucking plot point. This is worst than Emma's "friend" helping kidnap Aiden because of how jealous she was of Emma. What the actual fuck, Flint?

MAJOR SPOILER SECTION OVER

The worst part about this book is that the writing is actually kind of decent, which means it's not even enjoyably bad the same way Silent Child was. It's just straight up bad and even offensive. It's also somewhat historical fiction- in the 60s- but there's not really much done with that. In the end, it's a feminist thriller, which means I probably shouldn't have picked it up in the first place, but it will definitely make my least favorites list at the end of the year. I hate you so much, Little Deaths, that you may replace Missing as my 1# least favorite book of 2017

2 out of 10

Goodbye Days by Jeff Zentner Review

WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW

“Funny how people move through this world leaving little pieces of their story with the people they meet, for them to carry. Makes you wonder what'd happen if all those people put their puzzle pieces together.”- Goodbye Days, Jeff Zentner

What if you could spend one last day with someone you lost?

One day Carver Briggs had it all—three best friends, a supportive family, and a reputation as a talented writer at his high school, Nashville Academy for the Arts.

The next day he lost it all when he sent a simple text to his friend Mars, right before Mars, Eli, and Blake were killed in a car crash.

Now Carver can’t stop blaming himself for the accident, and he’s not the only one. Eli’s twin sister is trying to freeze him out of school with her death-ray stare. And Mars’s father, a powerful judge, is pressuring the district attorney to open a criminal investigation into Carver’s actions.

Luckily, Carver has some unexpected allies: Eli’s girlfriend, the only person to stand by him at school; Dr. Mendez, his new therapist; and Blake’s grandmother, who asks Carver to spend a Goodbye Day with her to share their memories and say a proper goodbye to his friend.

Soon the other families are asking for a Goodbye Day with Carver, but he’s unsure of their motives. Will they all be able to make peace with their losses, or will these Goodbye Days bring Carver one step closer to a complete breakdown or—even worse—prison?

This is a fine book. Getting that out of the way right now because the more I talk about it the more I may convince you that I really didn't like it, when I did. It wasn't my favorite book ever, but it was enjoyable enough. 

I kept forgetting that it was written by Jeff Zentner, especially since this is basically a long Adam Silvera book. The characters, the writing style, all very Adam Silvera-y. I like Adam Silvera, don't get me wrong, but he's not my favorite YA contemporary writer and his books are typically on the younger side of YA. Still, better him than Becky Albertalli or John Green. 

Plotwise, the book reminds me a ton of The Lies About Truth, what with the car accident and the main character blaming himself for the death of his friends like how Sadie blamed herself for the death of Trent, as well as similar musings about God and forgiveness. Which I liked, especially given that The Lies About Truth was one of my favorite books of last year.

My biggest issue with Goodbye Days is the amount of cringe that it's in the book, mostly surrounding Jessmyn and Carver. I had such a hard time with their parts because, well, they reminded me of that Diversity Day episode of The Office that was basically unwatchable to me because I dislike that particular brand of cringe comedy. I also felt strange about the way Zentner introduced diversity to the story, like he had to get that out of the way before he could start to flesh out his characters. The first time we meet Jessmyn, she comments about her "Filipino genes", which struck me as a very odd thing to say to someone. And in casual conversation she keeps bringing up the fact that she's Asian, usually in really awkward places and, frankly, every time she showed up in a chapter or whatever I went into skim mode because their conversations made me super uncomfortable. I also thought Georgia's interactions in the beginning with Dr Mendez were really awkward because she is only there to inform us of his husband and children, the whole conversation coming across as when Barney from How I Met Your Mother introduced his brother James as being his gay black brother, though not nearly as enjoyably awkward as that scene. 

Also, the writing was pretty inconsistent. I loved the way certain parts were written, usually the sentences right before the chapter ends and Zentner tries to channel Cormac McCarthy, with short, beautiful sentences that hit hard. The rest of the book was okay, but very much a YA novel with teenspeak and lots of often gratuitous swearing. The really pretty parts felt like a tease, because if that's how he can write why doesn't he write the entire book like that? Because, take away those parts, and you have a book that could have been written by any of the recent YA hit writers, from Nicola Yoon to Becky Albertalli to Adam Silvera.

I also wish we got some of Carver's writing, because apparently he writes a lot of "dark Southern stuff." But then I'd probably wish that Zentner just wrote a Southern Gothic novel because if there's any literary movement that needs a revival, it's that one. Get your Faulkner on, dude!

Happily, Goodbye Days isn't as anvilicious, to borrow a TV Tropes term, as I thought it would be. It's actually more of a subtle take on texting and driving as I thought it would be, even if I did think it was kind of a stretch to go the potential prosecution route for Carver, especially when it didn't go anywhere. I also took issue with the comparing of the case to the one of the girl who convinced her best friend to kill himself, because it's like comparing apples to oranges. Carver didn't know that his text would cause a car accident, whereas that girl sure as hell knew her texts would cause that kid to kill himself (and who the fuck does, anyway?). 

I also did like some of the characters. I liked Carver and the rest of the... Sauce Crew... just fine, but my two favorite characters besides them were Nana Betsy and, surprisingly, Judge Edwards. Both the pain shown by those characters was done very well, contrasted with Eli's family who wasn't all that well developed. It would have been nice for Adair or Eli's parents to get that same moment of redemption even Judge Edwards got in the end.

The ending was also really nice, and even brought a few tears misting the edges of my eyes. The ending made the book, really.

So, I did enjoy it. It's not my favorite book I've ever read, not even among the best YA I read this year. It's a solid contemporary, just not that original and kind of replaceable. I don't know if I'll ever read The Serpent King, but I'm happy with having read this book, even if I never read anything else by Jeff Zentner. Of course, if he ever gets bored with this YA contemporary stuff and decides to become the Carlos Ruiz Zafon of Southern Gothic, I will be all over that.

7.5-8 out of 10

October 2017 Wrap-Up

I'm a little sad October's over since it's my favorite month of the year- of course, when you live in New England it's kind of impossible to not love October, since it's one of those very New England months when the leaves change and apples appear on trees and farms advertise their pumpkin patches and haunted hay rides and you suddenly feel the need to own a white flat-faced Colonial. But enough of that. Here's what I read!

The Dead I Know by Scot Gardner 8.5/10 (reread) (158 pg)*
My Review: The Dead I Know by Scot Gardner
  Kicked off this month with a reread of one of my retrospective favorites of 2016. This is one of the best YA funeral home books I've ever read, and one of the few books to actually bring a tear or two to my eyes. This was the first book in my funeral home mini series I had over the course of the month, and ended up remaining as one of my favorites. This book is about a boy who is a sleepwalker haunted by horrific dreams and becomes an apprentice to a local mortician who really takes him under his wing.

Things I'm Seeing Without You by Peter Bognanni 5/10 (332 pg)*
My Review: Things I'm Seeing Without You by Peter Bognanni
  It's amazing how quickly an author can fall in my eyes. I was really impressed with The House of Tomorrow, a book that surpassed all my expectations, and avoided many of the pitfalls of YA fiction. With this book, Peter Bognanni has decided to john the ranks of David Arnold and Scott Stambach and Matthew Quick and all the other John Green imitators to write a disappointing teen book, a book that isn't original in the slightest. It's not as bad as, say, Mosquitoland or Every Exquisite Thing, but in comparison to The House of Tomorrow, it was just sad. Things I'm Seeing Without You was the second book in my funeral home mini series since it's about a girl dealing with grief through her father's funeral planning business, though it's done in a horribly inconsistent way.

The Boy in the Black Suit by Jason Reynolds 8.5/10 (reread) (255 pg)
My Review: The Boy in the Black Suit by Jason Reynolds
  The Boy in the Black Suit is a better book than I remember it to be, something that almost never happens. But damn, Matt Miller is just such a great character, it's hard for me to not love this sweet, short little book about a boy who goes to work in a neighborhood funeral home after his mother died. I'm happy that my funeral home series gave me the chance to revisit it.

Manhattan Beach by Jennifer Egan 4.5/10 (448 pg)
My Review: Manhattan Beach by Jennifer Egan
  Well, this wasn't nearly as good as I thought it would be. Manhattan Beach is Jennifer Egan's first foray into historical fiction and it shows, given that this is a hot mess of a book, I'm not quite sure how I stuck with it in fact. It was confusing and not really worth my time in the end. For those still curious, Manhattan Beach is about a girl and her father, the father works in organized crime during the Great Depression and the girl becomes the first female diver during WWII.

The Darkest Corners by Kara Thomas 7/10 (327 pg)
My Review: The Darkest Corners by Kara Thomas
  I don't know how I feel about Kara Thomas now. Admittedly, I was probably jumping the gun when I declared her to be potentially my new favorite YA thriller writer in my Little Monsters review, because I loved that book but this one just wasn't as good as Little Monsters. In fact, it reminded me a lot of Dark Places by Gillian Flynn, with the same basic plot and I liked this one just about as much as Dark Places. This is about girl who is investigating the disappearance of one of her friends, a disappearance that has a lot in common with one of her sister's best friend, who was found murdered shortly after. It was alright, but I look forward to see what's next for Kara Thomas, hoping it's more along the same lines as Little Monsters as opposed to The Darkest Corners.

Putting Makeup on Dead People by Jen Violi 5/10 (326 pg)
My Review: Putting Makeup on Dead People by Jen Violi
  I first started reading this book 3 years ago and never finished it. And now, reading the whole thing, I can see why. It just wasn't really what it advertised itself to be and was very much a YA product of its times, reading like a wish-fulfillment novel and had very heavy-handed messages. It just wasn't as deep or subtle as The Dead I Know or as laugh-out-loud funny as The Boy in the Black Suit. The really only redeeming thing about this novel, which is about a girl getting over the death of her father so she decides to pursue a career in mortuary science, is that the ending was really nice. 

Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami 9/10 (296 pg)
My Review: Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami
  Norwegian Wood is either everyone's favorite or least favorite Murakami book. I haven't read anything else by Murakami, but I loved Norwegian Wood even though I didn't really expect to. Toru and Midori ended up being two of my favorite characters ever, and their exchanges never failed to make me laugh. The way Murakami captured Tokyo in the 60s fascinated me. What else can I say, beyond the fact that I loved it?

The Burning Girl by Claire Messud 6/10 (247 pg)
My Review: The Burning Girl by Claire Messud
  Don't be fooled by the pretty writing or seemingly adultness of The Burning Girl, this is a fairly run of the mill story about two friends who find themselves growing apart. This is a tired story and Messud does not do much new with it. While reading I often thought of Emily Fridlund's History of Wolves, and this novel had the same effect as that one for me, except The Burning Girl was less interesting.

Belle Epoque by Elizabeth Ross 5/10 (323 pg)
My Review: Belle Epoque by Elizabeth Ross
  Sometimes I like to read some fluffy historical fiction just to unwind a bit, and Belle Epoque has been on my radar for a long time, since every time I go to my library that book stared down at me from above the YA Rs-Ss bookcase. I finally picked it up because I really, really wanted to read some historical fiction and this was the only one I could find that wasn't about WWII and I didn't hate the plot. But at the same time, it wasn't really as great as it could have been, and I liked it (or didn't like it) about as much as I liked (or didn't like) Gilt. Belle Epoque is about a girl who works in service where rich women hire plain girls to make themselves look better. Good idea, mediocre execution.

Handle With Care by Jodi Picoult 7/10 (reread) (535 pg)*
  Another Picoult reread, because her books are just really easy to reread. I actually remember liking this book more than I did on my reread. In fact, when I read it for the first time I gave it a 9 out of 10 (five stars) a way higher score than it deserved upon rereading. In fact, I actually used to consider it better than My Sister's Keeper, though now I believe that My Sister's Keeper is the superior novel. Picoult is one of those authors who just writes the same book over and over again, whether or not she's successful at it is up to you. To me, her books are great when you don't want to think too much on them, this novel included.

The Courage to Create by Rollo May 8.5/10 (144 pg)
  I never wrote a full review for this one because, well, I just forgot too. I read one chapter a week for a 2 months because I found that, as much as I liked the writing style, I couldn't take more than one chapter at a time. Still, I really enjoyed Rollo May's writing and this thoughts on the act of creativity and how it fits into human society. It made me feel inspired to start writing again.

The Girl Who Could Fly by Victoria Forester 8.5/10 (reread) (156 pg)*
  The Girl Who Could Fly has a very special place in my heart, being one of my favorite books as a child, and also I swear to God Piper and Conrad were my first OTP. I felt the need to reread this book, and was shocked to find out how short it was- when I was a kid, this book seemed like 300 pages. But I still really liked it, mostly because of how surprisingly dark it is for a kids' book (that probably explains why I read the books I do), has a really easy to read writing style, and also there's the nostalgic atmosphere. The darkness and even light body horror in The Girl Who Could Fly led me to novels like Unwind by Neal Shusterman and, later on, books like The Butterfly Garden and Marina, all of which I count among my favorite books to date.

Music of the Ghosts by Vaddey Ratner 8.5/10 (320 pg)
My Review: Music of the Ghosts by Vaddey Ratner
  Music of the Ghosts is a gorgeously lyrical novel about Cambodia in the wake of the nightmare that was the Pol Pot regime, something I know very little about. This novel, while it does drag in some places, is also extremely atmospheric with beautiful descriptions of Cambodia and a quietness, a calmness that makes the horrors of the massacre of Cambodians stand out all the more. Highly recommended.

The Last Four Days of Paddy Buckley by Jeremy Massey 8.5-9/10 (304 pg)
My Review: The Last Four Days of Paddy Buckley by Jeremy Massey
  If not for Norwegian Wood, this would be my favorite book of the month, because I kind of loved it. It was funny, it was entertaining, it was dark, it was endearing, it was just great. It reminded me a lot of my favorite contemporary novel ever, I Am the Messenger, especially with the characters of Paddy and Ed. This thriller about a guy who works in a funeral home and accidentally runs over a famous mobster, quickly became one of my favorite mysteries ever.

The Museum at the End of the World by John Metcalf 5/10 (DNF) (89/372 pg)
  I used my DNF this month on The Museum at the End of the World by John Metcalf, not to be confused with John Metcalfe. I liked the first story okay, but the writing style was extremely confusing and I had a hard time getting into the story at all. It was the kind of book I couldn't focus on at all and yet I was extremely reluctant to actually DNF it. In the end, I just put it down and never picked it back up again. Can't say I'm too sad about that, even if it does have a really great title.

Salaam, Love by Ayesha Mattu and Nura Maznavi 8/10 (248 pg)
My Review: Salaam, Love by Ayesha Mattu and Nura Maznavi
  Salaam, Love does an interesting thing in that it captures a group of people who little is said about, except bad things. Muslim men. Whereas Muslim women are often given a voice, Muslim men are regulated to the sidelines. And that's what makes Salaam, Love an interesting read. While I can't say I loved it, though I rarely love anthologies anyway, I still enjoyed reading it and getting into the minds of these Muslim men on their experiences with love.

The Midnight Dance by Nikki Katz 4.5/10 (320 pg)
My Review: The Midnight Dance by Nikki Katz
  I've always been captivated by ballet stories, and so The Midnight Dance was an obvious pick up for me, being, or at least I thought it was, a contemporary thriller about a ballet school in Italy. Instead, it was a historical fiction (not the bad part) with some thriller elements but also equally as many steampunk ones, and it was only kind of about ballet- the ballet parts were added on and not really elaborated as to why they were there. I think this was supposed to be a 12 Dancing Princesses retelling of some kind, though it was never really advertised as one. This is a complete miss, and one I'd advise you to pass up on.

The Five Daughters of the Moon by Leena Likitalo 7/10 (256 pg)*
My Review: The Five Daughters of the Moon by Leena Likitalo
  My last fiction novel of the month was The Five Daughters of the Moon, a long ass title for a short fantasy novel. I didn't hate this book the way I was expecting to, in fact, I didn't mind it at all. It was a decent enough take on the Russian Revolution and the story behind the Russian Revolution, although admittedly it could have been better. The writing was also better than I thought it would be, although it is quite obviously translated. I guess I'd recommend this Russian-inspired fantasy novel, and it's pretty cheap, too.

The Victorian Book of the Dead by Chris Woodyard 8/10 (360 pg)
My Review: The Victorian Book of the Dead by Chris Woodyard
  And for my last book of the month, my Halloween book, The Victorian Book of the Dead, a fun coffee table book about Victorian death practices with some pretty great stories about mourning and also the interesting deaths Victorians managed to succumb to. Highly recommended- it's also got some great illustrations!

Page total: 5,444
Average rating: 6.5/10 (rounded down by not much) (not counting rereads)
Genre breakdown: 6 contemporaries 
                 6 historical fiction
                 3 nonfiction (1 historical, 1 anthology, 1 psychological)
                 2 mystery-thrillers
                 1 fantasy
                 1 science fiction
Of those 11 were adult, 7 were YA, and 1 was children's

I read 19 books this month, 1 less than I did in September but still better than I have in all summer. I have little hope for November, given that I'll be really busy all month, but I'm hoping to use it as a catch-up month to get to all the books I've been putting off, like Donna Tartt's The Secret History. We'll see how it goes.

*e-books