Books Read in June

 Passing by Nella Larsen

The story: While on vacation in Chicago, Irene runs into Clare, a friend from childhood. It takes a while for Irene, a light-skinned Black woman, to realize this is Clare, because Clare is passing as a white woman. Irene is extremely uncomfortable with Clare's secret -- especially when she meets Clare's racist husband. He thinks Irene is white, too. Clare's been happy the past couple of decades, but reconnecting with Irene stirs up a yearning in her to be part of the Black community. When Clare starts coming to Harlem and inserting herself in Irene's life, things get very rocky all around.

My reaction: I listened to this book on Spotify, and it was absolutely amazing. It was first published in 1929 and is just as relevant today as it was nearly 100 years ago. The characters are rich and complex, Larsen's prose is lovely, and the subject itself is fascinating to me. I was curious to see if a movie had ever been made based on the novel, and behold! This was actually a 2021 Sundance Film, and Netflix recently purchased it! This is a short novel and well worth the read. Highly recommended.

We Begin at the End by Chris Whitaker

The story: Thirteen-year-old Duchess is a self-proclaimed outlaw and the fierce protector of her little brother, Robin. She cleans up after her mother, Star, and makes sure Star doesn't overdose or choke on her own vomit. Star's life has not been easy. Her little sister died in a terrible accident when she was a child, and Star's high school boyfriend, Vincent, has been in prison for her murder since he was a teenager. Star is barely holding things together; Walk, the sheriff and Vincent's best friend, tries to keep both her and the kids alive. 

My reaction: I loved the book. It's devastating and hopeful. The characters are so well drawn that I could read this as if I were watching a movie, and I would love to see a sequel to this with a grown-up Duchess. Highly recommended.

The Sanatorium by Sarah Pearse

The story: High up in the Swiss Alps, a luxury hotel opens its doors to its first guests. The hotel was once a sanatorium, and it's filled with relics of the past — intentionally decorated with medical paraphernalia, treatment devices, and more. Elin and her boyfriend are among the hotel's first guests; her brother, Isaac, and his fianceé, both part of the staff, are throwing an engagement party. Elin is a detective, recently put on leave after an accident which left her with PTSD. Oh, and Elin and Isaac lost their brother when they were small children, and Elin thinks Isaac killed him. Oh, and there is a huge snowstorm, and bodies start showing up. And no one can get out because snow. And more bodies and more snow...

My reaction: What just happened? What? This book had tremendous potential. I was so ready to get swept up in a hotel worthy of The Shining. But nope. This book was its own blizzard, swirling and blurry and buried in confusion. Too much happened, the characters were flat, the plot was riddled with holes, and the ending was utterly deflating. 

The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalilia Harris 

The story: Nella is an editorial assistant in her mid-20s in a prestigious publishing company, and she is the only Black employee at her particular level. She is initially thrilled when another Black assistant is hired. Hazel is friendly and so likable... until she is too likable. She immediately charms all the higher-ups, and Nella feels threatened and undervalued. All the changes she'd been trying to make, all the workplace diversity she's encouraged -- Hazel comes in and seems to instantly sway the editors, all while seeming to bow to them. Who IS Hazel? 

My reaction: This book is marketed as The Devil Wears Prada mixed with Get Out. OK. I can see that somewhat. I really appreciated look at what it might be like to be the only Black woman in a totally white office. The descriptions of micro-aggressions and code-switching were fantastic. I liked Nella a lot, but I also got super irritated with her. I wanted her to stand up to Hazel. I wanted her to stand up for herself more, to call Hazel out, to tell people what was going on. I wanted Kendra to save her. I didn't always understand everything that was going on with OBGs and the resistance. The could have been my own fault as a distracted reader, or it could have been the author's failure to provide clarity. I didn't love this book but I am glad I read it.

Books Read in May

The Book of Lost Names by Kristen Harmel

The story: Eva Traube and her mother escaped from Paris in 1942 to a small village in France. They have two goals as Polish Jews: to survive and to find Eva's father, who was taken by Nazis. But Eva is unwillingly, at first, pulled into the Resistance because of her excellent forgery skills. She spend the next several years hiding in plain sight, forging thousands of documents for Jewish people fleeing for their lives. She's especially disturbed by the children, who have to take on new names. How will they remember who they really are when the war is over? She and another forger, Remy, come up with a code and record their names in a book. Sixty years later, this book resurfaces and Eva, now an elderly librarian living in NYC, heads back to Paris to claim it. As she does so, she remembers her years as a resistance worker and her love for Remy.   

My reaction: The story itself was intriguing and inspiring, but the writing was stiff and the dialogue was so atrocious I could barely read this at times. I mean, bad. And the characterization: dreadful. Eva's mother was ridiculous. No mother goes from being a daughter's best friend to being a harpy who finds her daughter despicable, even in the midst of war. In fact, in such a traumatic time, one would expect the mother to be even kinder and stronger. The way Harmel chose to portray that whole relationship made no sense. And again — that terribly stilted dialogue just made me want to rip pages. This should have been a fantastic story, but the characters felt flat, rushed, and annoying.      

     The author missed an opportunity here to really focus in on the children themselves and the idea of being erased, as an individual and as a nation. My advice: you might read this to get a further picture of the Resistance, but go into this knowing it has serious problems.

The Awakening by Kate Chopin (audio version)

The story: Edna Pontellier is a young wife and mother in the late 1800s who begins to awaken to her real self in her late 20s. She'd just floated through life until this point, but one summer she begins to really feel things, to see the world and her limited place in it. As she becomes increasingly aware of her own wants and needs, so also sees that her own views on womanhood are unorthodox and unacceptable in polite society. She is trapped in her upper middle-class life, utterly alone and despondent as she realizes that the rest of her life will be the same year after year. 

My reaction: It's probably been 30 years since I last read this novella, considered one of the earliest feminist works. Man, this is one of those novels that should be read each decade in one's life, as it has an utterly different effect on me now than it did in my early 20s. I have so much more understanding of the historical struggle of women now. I think when I read this in my 20s, I was strong and independent and didn't really fully grasp just how utterly stuck women were (and, of course, many women still are today). I loved this audio version, read by Hilary Swank on Spotify. (Classic Audiobooks on Spotify are fantastic, by the way!) Highly recommended.

Me and White Supremacy by Layla F. Saad

Subtitled "Combat Racism, Change the World, and Become a Good Ancestor," this book is a step-by-step guide to examining the reader's own relationship with racism through historical and cultural contexts. Each short chapter focuses on a specific topic, such as white privilege, color blindness, racist stereotypes, and optical allyship, and prompts the reader to consider how each has shown up in their lives. Each chapter includes definitions, explanations, anecdotes, and examples, as well as a list of reflection questions, such as "What emotional outbursts have you had during racial interactions? Or how have you shut down, walked away, deleted everything and pretended nothing happened and hoped no one would notice?" and "How do you and have you stayed silent when it comes to race and racism?"

My reaction: Randy and I actually took an entire year to work through this 28-day book. We picked it up last year at the recommendation of a friend, and we read it only during longish car trips (almost always on our way to a hike). On a few occasions, one or more of our young adult (20s) children were with us as we read and discussed, which was awesome. Each chapter was incredibly thought-provoking and informative, and the reflection questions were intense. We had a year's worth of fantastic and often uncomfortable discussions. I can't imagine going through this book in just a month. Spreading this out over a year gave us time to really absorb and chew on the text, helping us become even more aware of subtle racism and our own part in it. I highly recommend this book for anyone who is open to doing the hard work of examining their own white supremacy and their relationship with racism and working toward doing better. 

American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins

The story: Lydia and her family live in Acapulco. She owns a bookstore, her husband is a journalist, and together they have a son, Luca, who is eight. She has a close-knit extended family, until one afternoon when a local drug cartel comes in and kills them all except Lydia and Luca. Lydia knows that in order to save her son, they have to leave Mexico and the far-reaching fingers of Javier, the cartel's leader. The book chronicles Lydia and Luca's journey to the United States as they join other migrants from Central and South America.

My reaction: I have to say I could not put this novel down, utterly drawn into Lydia's journey and experiences. That said, I am aware that this book comes with a lot of controversy. Cummins is not a migrant (nor is she Mexican American); this is not her experience. Critics maintain that these stories should be told by authentic voices (#ownvoices), that Chicana and Mexicana writers should be getting their works published widely. Instead, they continue to be passed over and marginalized in and by the publishing and reading world. Mexica readers note that Cummins gets so much wrong in this novel. I respect and appreciate those critiques. Because I do not know the Spanish language, I was not aware of the many mistakes in her usage. I can only imagine how painful and offensive this was to Spanish speakers. She also makes, as I understand it, terrible cultural blunders and perpetuates stereotypes. (Those are just a few of the problems.) As a result of reading reviews of this novel, I have garnered a reading list of books to read by Latinx writers. Some of the books I've added are on this list of 17 Great Books to Read Instead of American Dirt and 8 Books by Latin American Authors to Read Instead of American Dirt.

The Paris Library by Janet Skeslien Charles

The story: This is the story, based on true events and with some characters' real names/jobs, of the American Library in Paris during World War II. The main character is Odile, a young librarian, and the cast of characters that she encounters are many (too many): coworkers, subscribers, soldiers, and more. Odile is immature (or maybe just flat), selfish, and impulsive; but the story itself, of how the library stayed open and also delivered books to soldiers and Jewish patrons, is interesting. Interwoven with the historical story is a modern-day(ish) story that takes place in Montana in the 1980s. In this story, young Lily forms a special friendship with Odile, the French recluse living next door. 

My reaction: The true story of the American Library in Paris is fascinating, and I kept reading this book because I wanted to hear Odile's story. But...the writing was just not good, honestly. The plot was interesting and kept me reading, but it was a struggle. The writing was trite, jumpy, heavy in the wrong places and then light in the wrong places. Shallow. The dual stories —one historical, one present day — format just does not work for me in general. Like most people, I almost always love the historical portion but am bored/annoyed with the modern day story. This technique feels contrived and unnecessary. The dialogue was stiff and completely unbelievable, and the story itself was... jumpy. Scenes jumped around, characters were undeveloped, emotions were flat and did nothing to stir my soul. The whole feeling was being rushed and trying to get in as much as possible. Characters jumped from place to place, and I often had to look back to see if I'd missed something. This felt almost the opposite of the writer's mantra to "show, don't tell." Way too much telling, and the showing part —the dialogue and action —was unsatisfying. I found myself cringing, saying, "Huh?" and rolling my eyes way too much. So... I give this a 2.5/5 rating for the historical significance and because I guess I cared enough about Odile that I wanted to know why she ended up in Montana with a husband named... wait for it... Buck. Because what rancher wouldn't be named Buck?

The Push by Ashley Audrain

The story: Blythe and Fox are blissfully happy, and Fox is ready to start a family. Blythe's childhood was rough—she was neglected, abused, and abandoned— and she's convinced she'll be a terrible mother. When their daughter is born. Blythe just cannot connect with her. She feels none of the warm fuzzies that motherhood is supposed to bring, and she's convinced there is something off about their daughter. She scream when Blythe holds her and she bites kids at daycare, but she's an angel for Fox. And then Sam is born, and Blythe falls madly in love with her son, understanding, finally, the magic of motherhood. But Violet decides she doesn't like Sam, and Blythe's world explodes. 

My reaction: I loved this book. It's a psychological thriller at one level, but it's also an exploration of motherhood, parenting, and marriage. Can a kid really be a bad seed? Is there a "bad mom" gene? How can you trust your instincts if everyone tells you you're wrong? This was definitely not a feel-good read; in fact, it was disturbing, disquieting, and sad. But it was so well written and positively gripping in the way the story is revealed. Blythe was such a vulnerable, richly drawn character; readers can't help but root for her, even as we question her. Warning: this novel deals with difficult topics of abuse and death of a child, so be ready for some heavy emotions. If you can handle that, then I highly recommend this! I couldn't put this one down.

Good Neighbors by Sarah Langan

The story: Maple Street is the perfect place to live, if you're the right kind of person. The Wildes are not the right kind of people, and the perfect people of Maple Street let them know it. Arlo is a former addict and rock star, Gertie shows way too much cleavage, and nine-year-old Larry is just weird. Julia, age 12, fits in for a while, until Shelly, daughter of the queen bee Rhea, turns on her. Right about that time, a sinkhole forms in the neighborhood, and everyone starts to go crazy. Accusations fly, and then someone gets sucked into the sinkhole. Who is to blame? Rhea points her finger at the Wildes, and a witch hunt ensues. In the midst of the witch hunt, secrets come to light and Rhea falls apart. 

My reaction: I have a love/hate relationship with this particular theme: the hierarchy of suburbia, the idea of moving up the social ladder by means of moving into a "good" neighborhood.  I find it fascinating but also so disturbing and so sad. Obviously, this was a main exploration in this novel. What do the Wildes have to do to be accepted into the Maple Street crowd? Why does one person get all the power? How can you fight against a system that's already made up its mind? This is a dark, complex, and disturbing book. I finished it with no clear sense of a recommendation. Did I like it? Not really... and yes. The writing was excellent, and the story itself was completely engaging. But it's so unnerving, so depressing. Why are people so terrible? So easily swayed, so weak, so thoughtless and desperate? This is an excellent illustration of mob mentality, group think, gossip, and social mobility, but it's just so dark, and, well, as murky as that sinkhole. Reminds me a bit of The Stepford Wives, with a dose of Stephen King and Shirley Jackson. If that's your thing, read it!

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Books Read in January

 The Girl with the Louding Voice by Abi Daré

The story: Adunni is a fourteen-year-old Nigerian girl who wants two things: her mother, who was her greatest advocate, and an education. She can't get her mother back—she has passed away—but she is determined to get an education. This, her mother told her, is how she gets a "louding voice"—how she can speak for herself and determine her own path. Adunni lives in a traditional village in Nigeria, under traditional tribal laws. When her father pulls her out of school and trades her to an old man as his third wife, her dream of an education looks impossible. She faces daily abuse, drudgery, and fear, and then tragedy strikes. She makes a bold decision that saves her life and ultimately leads her to a new one. 

My reaction: This was a perfect book with which to begin a new year. Adunni is the most wonderfully courageous young woman. She is compassionate, gutsy, curious, intelligent, and determined. The story is told through her voice, which makes this even more compelling, inviting the reader right into her world. In her words:  “I want to enter a room, and people will hear me even before I open my mouth to be speaking. I want to live in this life and help many people so that when I grow old and die, I will still be living through the people I am helping.” I loved the wide array of women introduced in this novel, each with a different voice and a different experience. Some of their voices are muffled, some completely shut, some shouting, but each one cries out in some way for understanding. Highly recommended!

Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson

The story: Isabel Wilkerson explores the characteristics of caste systems, the way human beings are ranked, and shows how the United States is rooted in a brutal caste system that puts Black Americans firmly at the bottom of the ladder. She compares and contrasts the U.S. caste system with that of Nazi Germany and India. As she writes, 

"Throughout human history, three caste systems have stood out. The tragically accelerated, chilling, and officially vanquished caste system of Nazi Germany. The lingering, millennia-long caste system of India. And the shape-shifting, unspoken, race-based caste pyramid in the United States. Each version relied on stigmatizing those deemed inferior to justify the dehumanization necessary to keep the lowest-ranked people at the bottom and to rationalize the protocols of enforcement. A caste system endures because it is often justified as divine will, originating from sacred text or the presumed laws of nature, reinforced throughout the culture and passed down through the generations." 

My reaction: I think every single American should read this book. We need to be talking about this, teaching this in our schools, and working toward demolishing the American caste system. As Wilkerson writes (italics mine), 

Americans are loath to talk about enslavement in part because what little we know about it goes against our perception of our country as a just and enlightened nation, a beacon of democracy for the world. Slavery is commonly dismissed as a “sad, dark chapter” in the country’s history. It is as if the greater the distance we can create between slavery and ourselves, the better to stave off the guilt or shame it induces. But in the same way that individuals cannot move forward, become whole and healthy, unless they examine the domestic violence they witnessed as children or the alcoholism that runs in their family, the country cannot become whole until it confronts what was not a chapter in its history, but the basis of its economic and social order. For a quarter millennium, slavery was the country. 

Wilkerson uses stories about real people —including her own experiences— to show how insidious and pervasive the caste system is in America -- how it seeps into every aspect of our lives. I highlighted about a billion passages in this book. I had to put it down sometimes and just mull over what I'd read. Wilkerson is a wonderful writer, using just the right balance of personal experiences, analysis, and research, both historical and scientific. (At one point I shouted to my husband, who has a PhD in genetics, that I was reading about telomere length and understanding perfectly!) This book is a lesson, a reprimand, a call to action, a plea, and a challenge.

"Each time a person reaches across caste and makes a connection, it helps to break the back of caste. Multiplied by millions in a given day, it becomes the flap of a butterfly wing that shifts the air and builds to a hurricane across an ocean."

The Bookshop of Yesterdays by Amy Meyerson. 

The story: Miranda's favorite uncle dies and leaves her his independent bookstore. Well, that's the simple way to explain the book. But Miranda, now in her late 20s,  hasn't seen her uncle since she was 12-years-old, when he disappeared from her life without explanation. Her mother, his sister, won't talk about Uncle Billy. Her father just says, "Ask your mother." And the bookstore is on the opposite coast, far away from Miranda's current life as a high school history teacher. When Miranda returns for his funeral, she realizes his inheritance comes with a scavenger hunt. In order to solve the mystery of why Billy disappeared from her life, she has to follow the clues and put the whole story together: “Like Prospero, Billy wanted to tell me of his betrayal, the event that had exiled him from our family." And so the search begins, taking Miranda from person to person, event to event.

My reaction: Boy, did I ever need this one after reading Caste! This is lighthearted (mostly), warm, happy (mostly), quick read. This is a book lover's book, for sure. I love all the titles listed throughout, the literary references, the celebration of reading. And what a DREAM: to inherit a whole bookstore! Meyerson does a fantastic job immersing us in the world of bookstores—I could smell the books, feel the covers, and take comfort in the shelves. Miranda herself was a little annoying now and then, but certainly not enough to keep me from highly recommending this.

My biggest gripe: the title. I cannot remember this for the life of me! Shakespeare's The Tempest was such a prevalent theme throughout the book—Prospero Books and the name Miranda, just for starters. Why not use Prospero in the title? (Or maybe the title IS a reference from The Tempest, and I'm not getting it! "Dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday," perhaps...)  I keep getting this title mixed up with others I've read recently: The Little Paris Bookshop, The Library of Lost and Found, The Book of Lost Friends... I know—it's a petty complaint and should not stop anyone from reading this lovely book!

My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell

The story: Vanessa is an outcast at her boarding school. She's lonely, friendless, isolated, and 15. She's the perfect prey for a predator like her 40-something English teacher, Mr. Strane. He singles her out and grooms her carefully, telling her that she's just like him, that he's madly in love with her, that she's brilliant. He knows all the right things to say, knows exactly how to manipulate Vanessa. Over 15 years later, he still knows all the right things to say: he knows how to convince her to keep their story quiet when another young woman, and then another and another come public with accusations of being abused by Strane. "They're lying," he tells Vanessa, and she believes him. He has been telling her since she was 15 that she's special, after all. The book alternates between 15-year-old Vanessa and Vanessa in her early 30s, when the accusations are flying about Strane. It's the #metoo movement, and Vanessa claims she is NOT a victim: that she made all her own choices, willingly. How long will she keep protecting her abuser?

My reaction: Haunting. Disturbing. Unsettling. Brilliant and brave. My heart absolutely broke for Vanessa, over and over again. This book is full of triggers, so beware. It is a difficult, gut-wrenching journey. To read how a 15-year-old is brainwashed, manipulated, and degraded by an authority figure is just so heartbreaking and maddening. I was angry at her parents for treating her like a leper, for the school for not pursuing the initial report of abuse, and of course for Strane for being a despicable pedophile. But I was never angry with Vanessa, who was so deeply twisted by Strane that she could not see the truth of their "relationship." This book is not for everyone, for sure. It is raw, graphic, and so disturbing, but Russell does an incredible job of inviting the reader to explore the complexities of abuse, the thread between abuser and the abused, the voiced and the voiceless. Highly recommended but know ahead of time: this is hard stuff.

The Dollhouse by Fiona Davis.

The story: Rose is a 30-ish journalist who has recently moved into the once glamorous Barbizon Hotel for Women, now luxury condos, with her partner. She becomes intrigued by the older women who live on the fourth floor of the hotel—women who are long-term tenants, now living in rent-controlled apartments. She learns that one woman fell to her death in the 1950s, another has a terrible scar on her face from some kind of altercation. Rose pitches the story to her editor and starts interviewing these women. From there, the book alternates between Rose's present day story and the story of Darby, one of the Barbizon women in the 1950s. 

My reaction. The first half of the book was great... and then it fell apart. Darby's story just took too many unrealistic turns, and Rose's story never reached much development after the first half. I mean, she thinks she is about to get engaged, and then her boyfriend leaves her for his ex-wife. Exit long time almost fiancé, enter new guy. She's over her ex really fast. And there were a lot of references to what "really" happened at her previous job, but it just seemed extraneous and distracting. Darby's 1952 story could have been so much more interesting had it been given more attention. The characters there held promise. It was as if too many stories were happening at once, and none of them made it to a satisfying conclusion. Honestly, the book just went on way too long, and the climax was like a balloon that slowly and limply deflates. 

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