The Palest Ink - Kay Bratt

Lake Union Publishing, October 27, 2015.

Three Stars

The Palest Ink is the prequel to Bratt’s previously published series, Tales of the Scavenger’s Daughters. While I thought it made sense to read the prequel first (I also have the first in the series, The Scavenger’s Daughters, on my shelf), I do feel like I missed out on the emotional connection that others had with this book. Instead of learning the backstory of already-beloved characters, I am only entering into these character’s lives, and so it took me longer to feel anything for the characters.

The novel is set in Shanghai in the 1960s, as the Cultural Revolution invaded China, and Mao’s Red Guard staged an attack on their own citizens, especially the upperclass intellectuals. Benfu is from one of these wealthy families, while his best friend, Pony Boy, is not. As these two come of age during the course of the revolution, their different backgrounds are used to contrast two very different socioeconomic situations taking place in the same city.

Benfu is raised in a very traditional family, with an arranged marriage on the horizon. He is taught never to question his parents or his country, although he continues to do so secretly. Benfu is young and his world view is naïve, perhaps too much so for an adult novel. I think this book would be successful with a younger audience, as it is missing some important depth of feeling, as well as more sophisticated character development. The characters are multi-dimensional, and they certainly do more than just further the plot, but I still think they could have been developed much further. Perhaps the rest of the series focuses more on character and growth, as the protagonist ages and begins a family of his own.

The title of the novel comes from a Chinese proverb, “the palest ink is better than the best memory.” (Loc. 97) While Mao and his army attempted to discourage intellectual discourse and literature, Benfu and Pony Boy start a newsletter to record the atrocities going on around them. Much of the younger generation was brainwashed into believing that Mao was doing what was best for the people, but Benfu and Pony Boy chose to fight this belief through their writing. They called their newsletter “a tiny drop of truth in an enormous barrel of unjustness.” (Loc. 3986) Memories change over time, but a written account will be accurately remembered for the future.

The boys’ plan to expose Mao and his Guard was an ambitious one, and although the novel was working towards a climax, it didn’t really follow through. It was not as compelling as I originally thought it would be, and I started to lose interest about halfway through. The details of setting and environment were a redeeming quality for the book, although the story got a bit lost in the reliance on rich historical details. For the most part, I enjoyed Benfu’s story, and I am still deciding whether I will carry on with the rest of the series.

I received this novel from Netgalley and Lake Union Publishing in exchange for an honest review.

Julia's Daughters - Colleen Faulkner

Kensington Publishing, October 27, 2015.

Three Stars

Julia’s Daughters is ultimately about grief – the many ways people grieve, even within one family. And most importantly, it is about finding time to grieve when others still need you to be present in their lives. Losing a family member often pushes apart those that remain – in this novel, Julia and her daughters must relearn to communicate and care for each other.

Julia’s daughter Caitlin died six weeks ago in a car accident – and her other daughter Haley was driving. While Haley acts out at home and at school, and the girls’ father Ben loses himself in work, youngest daughter Izzy is virtually ignored. Meanwhile, Julia can’t get out of bed, until she receives a call from the school that Haley has been expelled. It takes the threat of losing another daughter to bring Julia back to life, and attempt to put her family back together.

Haley is angsty but not overdone, for the most part – although she occasionally slips into a teen goth cliché. She is acting out her pain and guilt over Caitlin’s death, but she is also keeping a secret about that night, to protect her family. Izzy is ten years old, and she adds the comic relief, although it is very dark humour. She comes up with many euphemisms to describe Caitlin’s death (“pushing up daisies,” “crossing the River Styx”) but she still seems to have a better handle on her grieving process than most of the adults around her. However, she refuses to speak to Haley as she blames her completely for the death of Caitlin. The novel is written from the alternating perspectives of Julia, Haley and Izzy, and each voice is distinct and believable.

Faulkner shows us strong, convincing relationships between a mother and her daughters, as well as between the sisters themselves. I only wish the marriage aspects had been treated with similar care – Ben is a caricature that we are forced to dislike, and Julia’s mother-in-law is over the top awful. In other scenes, the author doesn’t shy away from tough issues, such as drug use and self-mutilation. These serious topics are sprinkled with moments of humour – a light in the dark, and the possibility of hope after the worst tragedy.

When things are at their worst, Julia decides to take her daughters on a trip. Although the road trip premise was kind of silly (it’s hard to believe that jumping into a car and driving across the country will solve problems this big), it was also emotionally realistic, and the ending was happy in its own way.  Julia’s family is in its own intense world of grief, but it is made lighter by Izzy’s jokes, and the fast pace of the road trip scenes. Overall, Julia’s Daughters is about women finding strength in impossibly painful situations, and the resiliency to move forward with life, together.

I received this novel from Netgalley and Kensington Publishing in exchange for an honest review.

After the Circus - Patrick Modiano

Yale University Press, October 27, 2015.

 

Four Stars

 

After the Circus was originally published in French in 1992, and is now being published in English translation, following the author’s Nobel Prize win in 2014. I was looking forward to finally reading Modiano’s work, and I have to say, it was pretty much what I expected. It has a very European noir feel to it, with themes of nostalgia and memory repeating throughout the story. The characters are well-drawn, although the main character could easily be the city of Paris – Jean and Gisele seem to be wandering through living, labyrinthine streets that move and shift behind them.

 

 The atmosphere of the novel is surreal, like being in a dream. Even though nothing unrealistic is happening, it just feels very detached and emotionally distant. I kind of lost the thread of Jean’s backstory halfway through, although I don’t know if it was just me, or if the plot really did become more abstract. Either way, it didn’t take away from the feeling of reading this book, which was made even more dreamlike by the lost sense of reality.

 

Jean meets Gisele after they have been separately interrogated by the police. Immediately, Jean is attracted to Gisele in an almost obsessive manner. He is afraid that Gisele will disappear, so he contrives to meet with her again, or to have her leave a mysterious suitcase at his apartment, for which she will have to return. The minor characters that interfere with Jean’s obsession seem to disassemble in front of him, causing the reader to wonder if they ever existed at all. Jean wants to erase his past, and as he tells us of one man, “[h]e was receding in time. He would go join all the other bit players, all the poor accessories of a period in my life.” (Loc. 1107)

 

Because Jean is so consumed by the idea that Gisele will disappear, her loss becomes inevitable. The scene is darkly atmospheric, and we cannot know if the threats to their relationship are real, or if they are evoked by the fears and expectations of the narrator. As Jean wanders through the city, there are more questions than answers, and we never really find out the truth about the others. Jean disassociates from himself, and he says, “[t]he more I walked, the more it felt as if I was in a foreign city and becoming someone else.” (Loc. 1198)

 

The novel is set in the 1960s, when Paris was still rebuilding itself after WWII. The changes to the city allow both Gisele and Jean to vanish into its uncertainties. The whole plot (or lack thereof) feels like a metaphor for this lost generation after the war, filled with chance encounters and the search for depth of feeling, desperate for love. There are many unknowns, and an abrupt ending in which nothing is resolved. After this experience, I feel like reading Modiano is definitely more about the journey than any destination. I look forward to reading more by him, as I think his recurring themes will add new layers to his body of work as a whole.

 

 

I received this novel from Netgalley and Yale University Press in exchange for an honest review.

The Muralist - B.A. Shapiro

Algonquin Books, November 3, 2015.

Five Stars

Shapiro’s first novel, The Art Forger is one of my favourites. This one has similar themes – art and its influence on mental well-being – with a very different writing style. The previous novel was contemporary, while this one is historical fiction, set during the Great Depression in New York City. Shapiro throws in historical details without seeming stuffy, and the whole story just flows. We are given a feel of the era with speeches by politicians and protesters alike, as they debate issues such as Anti-Semitism and Isolationism in the lead up to World War II. Tensions were high, and it was a great, authentic way to show the atmosphere of America in the 1930s.

In addition to politics, the focus of the novel is also on art, of course. Specifically, Abstract Expressionism as it gained popularity as the first truly American art movement. Instead of showing what’s in front of us, abstract artists sought to show how it feels, such as New York streets bustling with movement and energy. The fictional main character, Alizee Benoit, works alongside painters such as Lee Krasner, Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko as they develop this new style. Their day jobs, however, are with the WPA, Roosevelt’s Works Progress Administration – government jobs in which artists are employed painting murals for public buildings. Through her job, Alizee meets Eleanor Roosevelt, who provides her with the first WPA abstract art commission.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Danielle Abrams is working at a Christie’s auction house when she comes across an unknown canvas that she thinks may have been painted by her great-aunt, Alizee Benoit. As her research pulls her further into the past, she discovers new mysteries about her own family. While Alizee was living in New York, her family remained behind in Europe, an increasingly dangerous situation for Jews in the late 1930s. Alizee does everything she can to provide them with visas to come to America, including using her new connection with Mrs. Roosevelt. Her painting takes on a manic quality and she begins to experience signs of mental illness, eventually disappearing from a mental asylum. But is Alizee truly crazy, lost to her friends and to the world – or can she succeed in helping her family?

Shapiro’s writing style allows us to enter into personal relationships with well-known artists by referring to them by first name and creating intimate portraits of their lives through the eyes of Alizee. Their stories are easy to follow, even if you have no art history background – but you will get much more out of the story if you do have some sense of the history of Pollock, Rothko, Krasner and the others. It was interesting to see how these artists thought there was no room for politics in art – but for Alizee, the political was personal. That was why she could not understand the Isolationists, who did not want to allow Jewish immigrants into America, even though it would save their lives. This is obviously still a very relevant issue today, where the personal and political must go hand in hand, in any conversation about refugees.  

As Alizee expresses herself and her own political views through her art, she grows away from her friends and begins to find herself. Alizee’s story was a new and fresh perspective on WWII – and while it was a great read, it is depressing to know that there are still so many tragic stories of the war that are yet to be told. Alizee’s mental illness and unreliability just made her stronger and more believable as a character – she was just as real as the actual artists of the time. At the same time, her great-niece Dani’s story was equally as strong – she wasn’t there just to provide background information about Alizee.

This was a captivating, enjoyable novel about the nature of art and its universal ability to connect people. The historical aspects were enlightening and never heavy-handed. Alizee had her flaws, but ultimately she was strong, brave, and had the ability to express herself through art, instead of succumbing to depression and mental illness. I enjoyed everything about this book and I highly recommend it.

I received this book for free from Algonquin Books and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Smoke - Catherine McKenzie

Lake Union Publishing, October 20, 2015.

 

Three Stars

Smoke is the parallel stories of two women whose small town is threatened by a wildfire. Mindy is a wife and mother who has lost herself, and tries to find her purpose by caring for those who have lost their homes in the fire. While Mindy represents domestic life, her former friend Elizabeth is in the thick of the smoke, working the front lines of the fire fight. She takes on a traditionally masculine role in what would otherwise be typical women’s literature.

The wildfire can be seen as a metaphor for the uncontrollable changes in life, which both women face. Elizabeth and her husband are on the brink of divorce, yet the threat of losing their home to fire causes them to rethink what is really important in life. Likewise, Mindy’s children are dealing with the usual adolescent issues, but facing the fire allows them to come together as a family against a larger force.

The conflict that ended the friendship between Mindy and Elizabeth is a mystery that we do not learn until later, and the loss of real friendship causes them both to turn to others – they both wish to help members of their community, but the novel forces us to question how well we can really know anyone else. The side plots involving minor characters were just as intriguing, as background information was slowly revealed.

All of the relationships in Smoke were complex and real, without cut and dry happy endings. The novel explores the way that one person’s actions can affect the whole community, including all the seemingly unimportant decisions that led to that point. The morally ambiguous ending was realistic and true to life. This is ostensibly a book about a natural disaster, but it is really a reminder about the importance and ultimately the strength of human relationships.

I received this book for free from Lake Union Publishing and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

The Girl With No Past - Kathryn Croft

Bookouture, October 15, 2015.

 

Two Stars

Surprise, surprise, this book is being compared to Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train. Putting “girl” in the title and adding a twisty ending is very on-trend right now, but this one just didn’t work for me. It’s good for an escape – I couldn’t stop reading until the mystery was revealed – but the writing just wasn’t that great.

Leah feels extreme guilt over an incident from her past, and in trying to erase it, she chooses not to fully live in the present. She has an okay job, a mediocre apartment, and a couple acquaintances that she spends time with. When she finally begins to make a few new friends, including a potential love interest, her past comes back to haunt her and she risks losing everything.

Leah now has a stalker that is putting an almost unbelievable amount of detail and effort into torturing her. The details of her past are revealed very gradually, but it was too little too late to really draw me into the story. I felt like the novel needed more connections between the past and the present in order to wrap up the incident in Leah’s past.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on, but there was still a final twist at the end that reminded us of Leah’s unreliability as a narrator. This was a quick, escapist read with a few fun surprises, it just doesn’t have a whole lot of depth or literary value in my opinion.

 

I received this book for free from Bookouture and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Slade House - David Mitchell

Random House, October 27, 2015.

Four Stars

Slade House is David Mitchell at his creepiest – it reads like one long, hallucinatory nightmare. It is a continuation of his novel The Bone Clocks, with many recurring themes and some of the same characters, but it is not necessary to read the other novel first. In fact, connections can be seen between most of Mitchell’s books, although they can all be read in isolation as well. Unfortunately for me, this book is an extrapolation of my least favourite part of The Bone Clocks, in which the sci-fi premise of the Horologists and the Anchorites is explained in detail, to the detriment of character development. If that was your thing, you will love this book.

This is the story of Slade House, a decrepit, haunted mansion in a back street of London. It is divided into five parts, each of which is set nine years apart, beginning on October 31^st, 1979 and ending on the same day in 2015. On each of these occasions, new characters enter the house – and most do not leave. There are many nods to other characters from The Bone Clocks, such as Crispin Hershey and Johnny Penhaligon, as well as much more world building of the ideas from that novel. Again, I think Slade House can be enjoyed on its own, but reading it as a sequel will add more depth and be more informative – otherwise, the story becomes kind of weird and gimmicky.

As I was reading this, I could see it being developed into a creepy, indie Halloween movie. The setting is vibrant and well-drawn – it is almost cinematic. It is a light read with a dark plot that has been classified as “horror,” although I’m not sure that’s right. I think it is more intelligent than traditional horror, although the genre is evolving. It is a continuation of previous themes, taken to their deepest, darkest conclusions.

I definitely see this as a collection of (very) connected short stories, contained within Mitchell’s larger oeuvre of linked novels. There is no final conclusion in the battle between the Horologists and the Anchorites, leaving these themes open to carry forward into future novels.

I received this book for free from Random House and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

All the Stars in the Heavens - Adriana Trigiani

Harper Collins, October 13, 2015.

Three Stars

Hollywood in 1935 was an exhilarating place to be, especially for an inexperienced young Italian woman who spent her formative years in a convent. Alda Ducci leaves the nuns behind, to take on the role of secretary for Loretta Young, a promising new actress with a penchant for falling in love with her leading men. As she meets a mixture of real and fictional characters, Alda watches as Loretta’s relationship with Spencer Tracy falls apart. While Loretta is still recovering from this blow, she is sent to film The Call of the Wild on location – with Clark Gable.

Although Clark is married at the time, he begins a flirtation with Loretta that soon becomes much more. In an isolated ski lodge, with the heightened emotions that come from filming a movie together, the two form a relationship that is somewhat rocky but always passionate. Meanwhile, Alda meets a man on set as well, and although they live simpler lives, their relationship has its own complications.

The main issue with this novel seems to be the information that has recently come to light on Loretta and Clark’s real life relationship – at the end of her life, Loretta divulged to her family that her interactions with Gable had actually been date rape, which resulted in the conception of their illegitimate child. The child and his origins were hidden because of the codes of conduct of the Hollywood studio, and the moral obligations of its actors. It just seems like really poor timing for publication, and makes me wonder whether the novel can be appreciated simply as fiction, as opposed to being a story of non-consensual sex that was hidden in the “golden age” of Hollywood. It does cast a shadow over the novel, but I would still like to look at it on its own, as a work of fiction.

One thing that I felt was missing from the novel was complexity of emotion. The inner thoughts of the characters were very basic and simple, and more often we were told what they are doing and feeling instead of being shown through their thoughts and actions. Because of this, and also perhaps because of Loretta’s youth and her propensity to fall head over heels in love with every man she meets, it really felt like a young adult novel. It was missing the depth of adult relationships. This was especially true in Loretta’s relationship with Spencer – their love seemed more real, then out of the blue we are told that he is an alcoholic who treated her poorly, although we don’t see this anywhere in the story. Trigiani is constantly telling us about the epic love that both Loretta and Alda feel, yet I didn’t actually witness it.

For a Hollywood setting, there was surprisingly little drama. All of the characters were too nice – they were boring and unexciting. In making movies, we are told that “art changed everything: mood, climate, perception,” (102) yet that is what is missing from this novel.  There is no moodiness, it is all very flat and calm. I also couldn’t get past the strange shifts in perspective. In a way it was cinematic, like a camera was following one person, and as they meet someone else, the camera follows the second person and pans away. However, it was hard to follow a train of thought that drifts into the mind of a different character.

Overall, I don’t blame this novel for the unfortunate circumstances of its publication, but I did dislike its slow pace and lack of complexity. After reading Trigiani’s epic historical novel, The Shoemaker’s Wife, I was expecting more than I got in this unexciting Hollywood drama.

I received this book for free from Harper Collins and Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.

Twain's End - Lynn Cullen

 

Gallery Books, October 13, 2015.

Four Stars

Much has been written about Samuel Clemens and his alter ego, Mark Twain. In Cullen’s new novel, Clemens is reaching the end of his life, and reflecting back as he writes his biography. His hubris is strong throughout the story, as he is more concerned with his reputation than recording what actually happened in his life. He procrastinates finishing the autobiography, fearing that its end will be his as well. However, there were clearly some major differences between the real Clemens and his fictional construct, Twain – so in reality, his autobiography is a fictional work, describing the man he wished the public to see.

Clemens took his fictional name from a riverboat term, but it is also observed by another character that Twain means “twin” – Mark is Samuel’s twin, or alter ego. They each showcase a different side of his personality. Even today, Twain is seen as the jolly American humorist, while – in this version, at least – Clemens appears as an angry old man. The contradictory nature of the man is what makes his story so interesting.

Twain’s End focuses on the women in Clemens’ life, including his wife and daughters, and most of the novel is written from the perspective of his secretary, Isabel. While she clearly respected and even idolized him, he treats her as an emotional punching bag. Clemens accuses Isabel of trying to steal from him, of ruining his relationships and of trying to marry him – yet when she decides to marry another man, he truly turns against her. Obviously, Clemens felt more for Isabel than he let on. He was clearly charming, and Isabel fell for his womanizing ways. She was led to believe that she was an integral part of the family, but she was cast out without a second thought.

This novel was very well researched, with plenty of historical detail. It was all interesting, but sometimes it slowed down the plot. The slow pace of the novel was made up for with strong character development and intriguing anecdotes about Clemens’ life. Because we often study historical figures in isolation, it was surprising to see Helen Keller turn up in Clemens’ parlour for tea. I was captivated by the conversation between the two, as their friendship was not something I had known about.

The character of Isabel was very simplistic, and she was only likeable once she got out from under Clemens’ spell. She was more useful as a lens to view Clemens’ private side, and explore issues of public personalities and celebrity. Twain was a flawed yet lovable character who Clemens could hide behind – he was idolized by Americans as the voice of the people, in spite of his many personal issues. However, fictionalized biographies such as Twain’s End add layers of depth to readings of classical literature such as Huckleberry Finn, and learning more about the man behind the iconic character of Mark Twain is always worthwhile.

I received this book for free from Gallery Books and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

After Alice - Gregory Maguire

William Morrow, October 27, 2015.

Four Stars

Maguire’s previous works have reimagined the stories of Cinderella, Snow White, and the Land of Oz. In his new book, After Alice, he sets his sights on Wonderland, giving us a glimpse at what happened after Alice fell down the rabbit hole. While her family “above ground” half-heartedly search for her and mostly carry on with their lives, Alice’s friend Ada tumbles down after her. Ada travels through Wonderland, consulting with Humpty Dumpty and the Cheshire Cat, among others, as she tries to find her friend.

Although Ada is witnessing the wonders of life beneath the rabbit hole, she is reluctant to believe in such a fantasy world. Her realism is relatable, and her childish surliness makes her somehow likeable. Instead of seeing Wonderland through Alice’s eyes, where everything is magical and amazing, Ada uses reason to work her way into the court of the Queen of Hearts. Ada’s real life isn’t great – she has medical problems and an unsettled home life – yet she doesn’t use Wonderland as an escape. “Her gait was still lopsided, but so was the world, so she kept on” (p. 42) – Ada’s disability is not important here, and being different actually helps her to fit in. Wonderland is a place to exercise her reason and intellect, so she can return to real life smarter and stronger.

Ada is preoccupied with Dante’s Inferno, and her references to it force the reader to compare the rabbit hole with a descent into hell. She makes clever observations of various well-known characters, such as the Walrus and the Carpenter, as she looks at the political and religious connotations of their words and actions. To preserve her childlike innocence, Maguire makes many of these observations as asides, as he digs deeper into the sociopolitical climate in which Carroll wrote the original story of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. There are remarks on the royal impact of Queen Victoria, as well as Marxism and the class divide. As a companion to the original, Ada’s story provides the context of 1860s Oxford that the original story was lacking.

Many reviewers did not like this new, darker version of Wonderland, which surprises me because I think it only serves to enhance the original. Don’t expect it to be a continuation of Alice’s story, because it is very different, with many new elements. A young audience could still appreciate this version, but I think that adults with a knowledge of history will get much more out of it.

With that being said, I think children would also be delighted to hear this story read out loud, as the tonality, rhythm and internal rhymes are just as much fun as Carroll’s original. Ada’s fall down the rabbit hole is described: “In time – and when does a fall take time, except for the drift of a leaf or a snowflake, or perhaps a lapse into perdition? – Ada’s attention turned to her plight.” (p. 28) This is language that is meant to be savoured out loud, with a childlike sense of enjoyment.

I received this book for free from William Morrow and Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.