Alison
Oh how I loved this book. At almost 400 pages, around page 150 I did find myself wondering what else could possibly happen since a lot of ground had been covered already but I am so glad I stayed with it. A complicated tale about the lies we tell to ourselves and to each other in the name of love and personal ambition. I was completely wrapped up in this love story and deeply moved by its thoughts on relationships, art, and redemption.
A very strange but entertaining tale about a dysfunctional and extraordinary family. I was left with the sense that there was more to say about this group of people and I wasn't quite sure what Karen Joy Fowler's end game might be. Beautifully written and worth the read, but I find myself still a bit puzzled by the point of it all.
“Images that show suffering seem to bring the pictured people near...You are a good person. You feel. You grieve. You are sympathetic. You have done your part. Our sympathy proclaims our innocence as well as our impotence, Sontag wrote. It lets us off the hook: So far as we feel sympathy, we feel we are not accomplices to what caused the suffering....Set sympathy aside, she wrote. Admit, instead, how our privileges are located on the same map as their suffering.“
I happened to be reading this book while my government was putting children in cages at the border and images of their plight were being shared by everyone, everywhere. Sarah Sentilles has created a work of non-fiction that weaves together the worlds of war and art and showcases them in a way that highlight how similar they are. As the viewers of war and of art, we are as responsible for the images we use as the people and conflicts which created them. This is a singular work, hard to describe and very difficult to forget.
I grew up in Northern California at the tail end of the GSK's initial spree, and the way in which Michelle McNamara was able to evoke the Bay Area of my childhood was remarkable. It felt like I was sitting in the backyard of my childhood home. My Mom grew up in an Eichler and the landscape McNamara described was both eerie and comforting. She manages to write about a horrific series of crimes with an unflinching yet compassionate eye so that the macabre is never indulged but the terror isn't lost. It is a true tragedy she passed away before she was able to see her efforts pay off - but what a legacy this book leaves in her memory.
This is an important and necessary read for everyone - but especially for Americans who find themselves (as I do), so far removed from the wars raging not only in countries far away, but in our own communities. Clemantine Wamariya paints a vivid picture of family, war, violence, lost childhood, and survival. We should take a lesson from her resilience, and be grateful that she survived to tell her story.
I reeeeeaaaaaally wanted to like this book but I guess it was just the warm up for All the Light We Cannot See. The main character wasn't enough to keep me really interested and I found myself wondering more about the lives of pretty much every other person in the book more than him. Though the language is lovely and there are some beautiful things said about family and love, I was ultimately pretty disappointed.
I'll round this up to a 2.5 but I found Red Clocks generally underwhelming. I understood where Leni Zumas was going with the cultural and political commentary but I never felt like I got enough time with the characters to really care deeply about their journeys. And that is saying something since this book comes in at 300+ pages. The most compelling story was about a woman who died 150 years before this book starts - and we get the fewest details about her. I really, really wanted to like this book more but it just didn't do it for me.
If you're looking for something in this vein but much better, check out The Power by Naomi Alderman.
What a TREAT!!! I wasn't sure what to expect from this story or these characters and found myself surprised and affected by both. The “book within a book” portions were a little on the nose, but they are a small part of a much greater statement about gender, family, ambition, and the fact that power, no matter who wields it, always has the potential to corrupt.
Simply extraordinary. Education snuck up on me a little and by the time I'd reached the halfway point of this incredible book I was unprepared for how invested I had become. Tara Westover manages to articulate the myriad of feelings that come from loving damaged people, how our histories shape us, and how we are formed and reformed by trauma. She does so both unflinchingly and gently, without artifice and with lyrical prose. I couldn't put this book down.
I was so excited to read The Great Alone after devouring The Nightingale but unfortunately it wasn't as compelling. That being said, the way Kristin Hannah described Alaska was incredibly moving and that is what bumped my rating from a 2.5 to a 3. But when I found myself wanting more pages detailing the landscape than I did detailing the characters I knew that there was something missing for me. It's a good but not great read.
Absolutely heartbreaking but full of faith; in family, in God, in magic, and in oneself. The book is a bit of a slow burn at the start but once it gets going I couldn't put it down. A beautiful meditation on the nature of sibling relationships and whether our choices affect our fate or if it might be the other way around all together.
So delightful! Not only was this an interracial romance (YES!), our heroine is so completely herself and so real about all the things we say in our heads when we are starting a new relationship. On top of that, her body was real and her appetite was real. AMAZING. Alexa and Drew were constantly eating - happily and with gusto. I loved this book from start to finish and can't wait to read Jasimine Guillory's next one!
A solidly entertaining and occasionally moving crime novel. I found myself wondering throughout if all the inner-monologue/focus on the main character's mental health and feelings was necessary but once I finished I was glad that Tana French spent so much time digging deep into her (anti)heroine's neurosis and history.
Somewhere between a 3 and 3.5. I waffled between being very caught up and invested in the Chase sisters' journey and wondering where it was all going. The story itself is compelling but I found myself disappointed in the final chapters. A little too cleanly wrapped up for my liking but still worth the read.
Harper Collins provided a copy of this book
There is so much to love about this book. It is a sweeping epic of the decade immediately following WWII and an intimate portrait of the relationships found therein. Though occasionally I found myself feeling like the pace was a little slow, the narrative rewards the reader for sticking with it through all those details as it wraps up. A beautifully written book that is heartbreaking and joyous, a cautionary tale and a story of forgiveness.
I really struggled with the number of stars to give this book. Though the prose is beautiful and there are some very moving passages on the nature of grief and relationships, I found myself wondering when it would be over. Katie Kitamura has a unique voice and though I never wanted to abandon the book completely, I also didn't find myself counting the minutes until I could pick it up again.
Oh how I loved this book. It would be easy to compare it to All the Light We Cannot See and though that would be apt, this story and its characters stand on their own. I cried all the way through it - both at the horror of what humans are capable of doing to other humans as well as the way in which we carry each other through tragedy.
This book was billed as being in the same vein as All the Light We Cannot See and so I was thrilled when it finally arrived. Unfortunately, it wasn't as well written and the characters were not nearly as compelling. I found myself less angry at Jacob and increasingly furious with the adults surrounding him who kept him in the dark about what was happening in the world. A solid but not great read.
What a gift this book is. I read it on a flight from California back to Chicago and at one point I was crying so hard that the nice man next to me asked if I was okay. Not only is this a beautiful meditation on faith and family, but it is a window into the world of a fascinating politician - a man whose personal life affects his political life and vis versa. A lesson in the strength of vulnerability; Joe Biden sets a high bar for fatherhood and leadership.