The Light of Day - Kristen Kehoe

October 7, 2014.

Four Stars

The Light of Day is a New Adult novel, and within that increasingly popular genre, I would give it four stars. It is not the kind of book I usually review, so I won’t rate it by my usual scale (in which case, it would probably be more like three stars). If you enjoy the genre, you could do a lot worse than this novel, which is part of the “Beyond the Horizon” series – although I only read this one, and it stands alone.

That being said, I did feel that this novel contained realistic characters responding to each other in fairly real ways. This is what NA Lit should be like – real and raw, not sanitized for younger readers. While the premise of the novel is a little shaky – boy and girl meet at wedding with heavy emotional baggage and decide that the only way forward is to move to Portland together? – it does explore some serious issues in a very realistic way. Themes include the struggle with addiction and the pain of dealing with a family member’s dementia, and these themes are explored thoughtfully – not just as a tool to create more drama and angst between romantic partners.

Well, there is some angst – but it doesn’t stem from a place of disrespect or abuse of themselves or each other. The main characters are real people who actually care about each other, with meaningful dialogue and scenes spent together to prove it – they don’t just fall obsessively in love overnight. There is a strong and steady build up to their relationship (starting with an even stronger friendship) that makes their love believable.

Cora has been through a lot, but she is not encouraged to be weak – she works hard to make herself stronger before relying on anyone else. Jake is troubled too, but not in a way that is self-destructive just to create melodrama for his character. The dialogue between the two is well-written, with a great mix of witty banter and emotional moments to make it feel real. There were flaws in the plot, especially at the start, but the story hits its stride once Jake and Cora begin to interact authentically. Ultimately, it is a character-driven novel in which the plot is secondary to the development of Cora and Jake, who could easily act as role models for the NA Lit of the future. 

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

Keeping an Eye Open: Essays on Art - Julian Barnes

Random House Canada, Oct. 6, 2015.

 

Four Stars

 

Julian Barnes begins this book of essays with an introduction, in which he tells us that he grew up thinking all art must be serious, that it “took the excitement out of life.” (p. 4) Upon receiving this book, I was worried that it might do the same thing – another solemn collection of art essays that take our initial enjoyment of an artwork and crush it with dry and unnecessarily academic language. So I was happily surprised to find these essays fun and conversational, encouraging the reader to see old works of art in new ways.

 

In this book, Barnes focuses approximately on the period between 1850 and 1920, in which the art movement (specifically in France) travelled from Romanticism to Realism and then to Modernism. Barnes had written quite a few of these essays on commission for previous publications, with no set plan to gather them together – however, when he looked at the work as a whole, he could see the story of how art had changed in this era. Not only does Barnes discuss art with the reader as though we are old friends talking over a cup of coffee, his essays communicate with each other as well. There is a dialogue from Gericault’s iconic Raft of the Medusa that leads us to the Impressionism of Manet, Cezanne and Degas, and finally to modern artists such as Lucien Freud.

 

Several times, through the use of artists’ quotes, Barnes makes the point that the best way to enjoy art would be to view it without words – words such as Barnes is writing in his critical essays.  In the beginning, he quotes Braque, who said that “the ideal state would be reached when we said nothing at all in front of a painting.” (p. 10) Later in the book, Freud makes a similar point: “Any words that might come out of his mouth concerning art, he remarked, would be as relevant to that art as the noise a tennis player produces when playing a shot.” (p. 239) I found it interesting that while Barnes is critiquing the artists, he also focuses on their critique of his work – writing essays about art.

 

The concerns about art criticism come up many more times in the book. In the essay “Manet: In Black and White,” Barnes considers the idea that only powerful art is worth attacking – we are shocked by what is new, and try to preserve the old styles, but regardless, the new art is quickly assimilated and commodified. (p. 73) In “Vuillard: You Can Call Him Edouard,” we are told about the dangers of “top-tennery and biography” (p. 156) – it is futile to look for the “best” in art because it is so subjective. Finally, and most interesting to me, was the idea of “perhapsiness” in art criticism, the idea of leaving our interpretation open-ended, because we ultimately do not know exactly what the artist intended. (“Magritte: Bird into Egg, p. 210) While I strive to make my own literary criticism more decisive, I think a little perhapsiness is important, too.

 

Barnes writes in his introduction that he felt there were two things happening in great works of art: “the desire to make it new, and a continuing conversation with the past.” (p. 9) I feel that the author has succeeded in doing both of these things in his book of art essays, which were surprisingly fun and eye-opening.

 

I received this novel from Goodreads First Reads and Random House Canada in exchange for an honest review.

Breathe and Release - Katherine Hayton

August 31, 2015.

Two Stars

So many of the elements of this book had great potential, but it just didn’t come together for me. Amnesia, a marriage on the rocks, the mysterious girl in the cellar – it seemed like all the right ingredients for a great psychological thriller, but there was a lack of depth to the storytelling that left me wanting more. I feel like with a lot of editing, I could really enjoy this story, but as it was, I barely made it through to the end, and I regretted the author’s missed opportunities to add excitement to the lives of her characters. They are in a life-changing situation, yet there is little emotional response, and their conversations (both out loud and inside Elisabet’s head) are stilted and awkward.

The lack of feeling on behalf of the narrator could be part of her sociopathic personality, but what is the excuse of Lillian, the girl tied up in the cellar? She had almost no reaction to being set free, not to mention the events she went through after her release. The characters just seemed very flat and unresponsive. I couldn’t understand the motivation of any of the characters, least of all the narrator, Elisabet. Upon awakening in a hospital bed with amnesia, she has no problem being released to her ex-husband, although presumably there was a reason for their separation. Elisabet soon finds out that the reason was physical abuse, yet she reacts with no shock and little concern for her own well-being as he repeatedly attacks her. The surly teen step-daughter was also an unnecessary side plot, as she added no dimension to Elisabet’s character.

I actually liked the concept of this novel, I just didn’t like the way it was handled. I think I may have been expecting too much, hoping for the execution of the plot to be a bit more literary. Breathe and Release definitely jumps on the bandwagon of surface-level, female-driven psychological thrillers, so if that’s your thing, you may enjoy this one.

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

The Visitant - Megan Chance

Lake Union Publishing, Sept. 22, 2015.

Three Stars

This is a great read for the creepy Halloween season – dark and atmospheric. The haunting aspects of the plot are handled lightly and not overdone; I loved that it could be read as either a slow descent into madness and mental illness, or a simple ghost story – and as the novel ends, we never truly learn how much of the story was “real,” versus the characters’ internal struggles.

The story is triggered by Elena’s “terrible misstep,” which seemed a little exaggerated, but probably accurate for the 19^th century time period, as she created quite a scandal. Without giving much away, her behavior has her shipped off to Venice to care for a former patient of her father’s, who suffers from epilepsy. However, his seizures become the least of their problems, as Elena and her patient become involved in a love triangle, in which one participant in the relationship might be a ghost. With dark forces at work, it is hard to tell whether either of the men who claim to love Elena, are in fact obsessed with the former – and deceased – resident of the house, Laura.

Although there are romantic elements to the book, it really crosses genres into the realms of historical novel, psychological thriller, and most of all, a truly classic ghost story. And what romance there is, is rarely flowery and poetic – in fact, it most often goes beyond bodice-ripper to BDSM. The changes in atmosphere as well as the quick pace of writing keep tension throughout the story as it moves quickly along to the (unsurprising but still fun) ending.

The neo-gothic Venetian setting is perfect for the many dark secrets that are released throughout the book – there is drama, but it does not turn into melodrama. The characters’ actions are probably not completely authentic to the 19^th century, but their behavior makes the book a lot more enjoyable for the modern reader. My only complaint would be that there were perhaps too many genres and elements being forced together into one storyline, but overall this was a fun, creepy read, perfect for a dark and stormy autumn evening.

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

London From My Windows - Marty Carter

Kensington Publishing, July 28, 2015.

Two Stars

London From My Windows is the story of Ava Wilder, an agoraphobic who inherits a home from her aunt in London, with the caveat that she venture outside and explore the city. It is a story about issues that could have been explored in a meaningful way (mental illness, sexual identity) but instead they were glossed over and not given serious attention. The novel had a contrived, and really a silly premise, with lots of unnecessary drama.

As a reader who is not agoraphobic, it is difficult to comment on the realism of Ava’s portrayal, but to me it seemed almost like it was made into a joke – in fact, Ava’s love interest, Jasper, uses her experiences in his stand-up comedy routine. I did not feel like her mental illness was treated with any sensitivity, which made this hard to read. It is a serious anxiety disorder, but Ava’s time in London comes across as slapstick comedy.

Ava’s condition was triggered by her father’s death in the first scene of the novel – her mother blamed Ava for his death, and since then she cannot stand to face public life. However, I found it hard to believe that someone who needs to cloister herself at home would subject herself to walking around her place of employment with a bag over her head for protection. It made a mockery of the whole situation. On top of these issues, there were so many catches, tricks and set-ups used to move the plot forward, that there was no natural flow to the story.

As Ava says at one point, “Not every disability is visible…Some are hidden.” (Loc. 717) I liked that the author chose to explore the idea of hidden mental illness, and reminds us that we should treat everyone with care and compassion because we don’t know what’s going on inside their heads. But what I didn’t like was the way it was handled, with sometimes insensitive humour. The jokes were not exactly directed at Ava’s disability, but it just wasn’t funny to me.

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

The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes - Anna McPartlin

St. Martin’s Press, Aug. 4, 2015.

Four Stars

The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes is a story that most people can relate to, unfortunately. Rabbit Hayes, a woman with an essentially normal life and a loving family, has cancer and only days left to live. The novel opens with Rabbit’s mother, Molly, driving her daughter to the hospice where she will spend her final days – and nine days later, the book ends with Rabbit’s death (sorry for the spoiler but it’s right there in the title). It seems like Rabbit’s story would be a bleak read, but in fact it is a celebration of life, and all of the love she has experienced.

With dark Irish wit, McPartlin gives us snapshots of Rabbit’s life, from childhood to her final moments. The perspective shifts to various family members, alternating with Rabbit’s reminiscences of her first love, Johnny, who also faced tragedy in his young life. The various points of view give us a genuine and honest picture of the reality of being present for the end of a loved one’s life, difficult as it is. It is a pendulum between grief and hope, with captivating emotions from the whole family.

Rabbit and her family speak with vivid, believable voices – it is the darkly funny story of an oddball family filled with great love. Rabbit is filtered through the lens of her family, as well as through her dreams of Johnny, who offers hope for Rabbit, as she once did for him. The novel explores each family member’s relationship with Rabbit, but also the new relationships that have opened up between them with the loss of Rabbit. The survivors must carry on without her, filling in the space she has left behind.

This novel was tough to read – I definitely don’t recommend reading in public! – but also cathartic, as the author explores the minutiae of everyday life, magnified in the face of death. It inspires laughter and tears all at once, yet I didn’t feel like McPartlin was trying to manipulate the reader’s emotions – she doesn’t just pull heartstrings, she cuts them to pieces. There are no surprises in the end, but there is room for hope – it is the uplifting story of a life well-lived. Life is unfair, but the love and beauty of experience is worth the heartbreak.

I received this book for free from St. Martin’s Press and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Sparrow Migrations - Cari Noga

Lake Union Publishing, June 23, 2015.

Three Stars

Sparrow Migrations takes as its inspiration the “Miracle on the Hudson” plane crash, and analyzes its effects on three different families. It is a real event with fictitious consequences, but written with an authenticity that makes them seem possible. The affected people all see the crash as a sign – but they read that sign in different ways. They use the emotions of that day to justify their actions moving forward, which are often conflicting and always dramatic.

One couple were on the plane as it landed in the river. Deborah uses the crash to inspire another round of IVF treatment, while her husband pulls away in the face of tragedy. A family of three were on a ferry watching the crash – their autistic son uses the plane crash (and the birds that caused it) as a lifeline from his inner world. His parents react to the changes to their son in different ways, vacillating between wanting to give Robby freedom, and holding him back for his own protection. A third woman on the ferry was there with her female lover – a fact that she wished to hide from her daughter and pastor husband. Each family faces challenges, but perhaps too many – on top of issues of fertility, autism and sexual identity, the author piles on Huntington’s disease, religion and divorce. They are all contentious modern issues, linked together under the umbrella of parenthood. It was just a lot to absorb from one book.

The words of the pilot, “Brace for impact,” are repeated throughout the novel, and it is applicable advice for all of the major issues in these characters’ lives. The focus is on parenting, from having a much-anticipated baby, to a young child made younger due to autism, to an older teenager learning to relate to her mother as an adult – it is a microcosmic view of the lifecycle of parenthood. The author allows us to reflect on the risks of having children, where even if everything seems perfect, anything could go wrong. Like birds leaving the nest, there are always dangers.

Birds are a major theme of the novel, from the moment they hit the engines of the plane in a “bird strike” and cause the crash into the Hudson River. Robby becomes obsessed with the migration of the birds, using his research as a way to connect to his family and the other people around him. He wants to protect the birds he is learning about, but eventually learns to let go as they leave the nest. Birds have a biological imperative to migrate and leave their families behind, much like human relationships. The various characters see birds as a representation of freedom, of loving without controlling.

The story here is told simply and I finished it quickly. It was easy to connect to the characters, although they did not have a lot of depth, and some definitely turned into caricatures. The concept was interesting, the plot moved along quickly, and the extended bird metaphor worked well. Problems were not solved simplistically, but they were dealt with in constructive and mostly realistic ways. My only concern was the number of issues packed into one story – it started to lower the plot into melodrama, playing on too many emotions at once.

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

Quicksand - Steve Toltz

Simon & Schuster, Sept. 15, 2015.

Three Stars

Toltz’s second novel is a dark, outrageous comedy filled with oddball adventures and laugh out loud one-liners. The narrator, Liam, is a struggling writer who eventually quits struggling and becomes a cop. That is, until he realizes he has the perfect muse right in front of him: his best friend Aldo. An accident-prone criminal entrepreneur with a disastrous love life, Aldo provides great inspiration for Liam. His is a life of subversive, unapologetic satire, interspersed with the random thoughts of distorted genius.

The language is cynical, jaded and filled with rambling brilliance – it is like listening to that one drunk friend who thinks he can explain the secrets of the universe. Because the dialogue is so strong, the characters are really the most important part of the novel, with the plot coming in at a far second. With an insanely fast pace, there is a lot of content to Quicksand – there are so many clever quotes that it is almost overkill. I could have used more depth of character alongside a more cohesive plot. Instead, the novel relied mostly on humour and gimmicks.

Because the characters were a bit shallow, I found it hard to connect to them, and to stay involved in the book. I was caught up reading this from the start, but the story started to drag towards the end. Part I, narrated by Liam, is more relatable in his observations of madness, while Part II in Aldo’s voice soon deteriorated into unreliable nonsense. This creates a strong delineation between the two characters, but I enjoyed Liam much more. Overall, I think both parts could have been edited down to the basics, and had those basic elements fleshed out instead of just throwing in more conflict.

Quicksand shows us the dark side of human nature – and confronts us with the fact that we find it funny. It is dense and exhausting, but more than anything it is laugh out loud humour combined with the darkest of tragedy, which is a rare thing to pull off. Quicksand is a whole new world of aphorisms for the modern mind.

I received this book for free from Simon & Schuster and Goodreads First Reads in exchange for an honest review.

The Seed Collectors - Scarlett Thomas

Canongate, July 2, 2015.

Five Stars

This is an unusual book, with a story and a structure that are both full of surprises. It’s filled with fascinating conversations (often in the form of interior monologues) that create individuality between characters and their odd, messy, flawed relationships. The structure is built on fragments of narrative, and it is sometimes difficult to guess who is speaking – it is disjointed, but I liked it. It was like seeing the author’s thought processes through her characters and made for a more interesting interpretation of events.

In the larger picture, The Seed Collectors is a family drama, and there is plenty of it – perhaps too much for one family. It begins with the death of Aunt Oleander, which allows us an opening to see into the past of the Gardner family: a collection of siblings, cousins, in-laws, and illegitimate children. Their issues are all internal to the family and often pretty incestuous. With Oleander’s death, the family estate is split up, and all of the family’s secrets come out.

On another level, the novel confronts our modern obsessions, including consumerism, fame, eating disorders, and alcoholism. Above all of these issues, it addresses the idea of enlightenment and the sacrifices we are willing to make in order to reach it. Aunt Oleander’s descendants each inherit a mysterious seed pod which may have caused the death of their parents – the pods are compared to the tree of knowledge.  However, in this case the eaters gain the knowledge to let go of the ego – and then they are expelled from the universe. The Seed Collectors above all is a contrast between the desire for enlightenment and the demands of the ego, illustrated with the crassness of reality.

Overall, this novel is a narrative experiment. In one section, Oleander’s niece Bryony is in a classroom, analyzing Jane Austen through the lens of Derrida – it feels like it might be a hint as to how to interpret The Seed Collectors. There are vignettes that read like straight family drama, while several others are written in the voice of a bird with his own language, observing the family. Interspersed throughout are sections that begin with the word “Imagine…” and then give us a scenario to think about. It comes across as pseudo-philosophical pretension but it is still thought-provoking, and it is interesting to see these interludes as the voice of Oleander, hoping for her family’s eventual enlightenment.

There are elements of fantasy, including a book that changes to suit the needs of the reader, as well as some unusual adventures in the Outer Hebrides. These elements seemed unnecessary, so I chose to read them as if they were only happening inside the character’s minds. More important to me were the voices of these characters, which were so real and honest, and made the novel a joy to read. The ending is left somewhat ambiguous, allowing the reader space to really think about what happened, and take our own small step towards enlightenment.

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

Developing Minds: An American Ghost Story - Jonathan LaPoma

Laughing Fire Press, September 14, 2015.

Three Stars

This is not your traditional ghost story – or really, any kind of ghost story at all. It is the story of a young teacher trying to do his best at an “F” school in Miami, a school in which the kids are more interested in surviving their often horrific home lives than in learning American History. The teacher and his students are essentially haunted by the legacy of a failing school system, and by their respective pasts. They are lost souls within the system, struggling to make sense of where they are and where they are going.

The events of this book are dark and disturbing, as the author contrasts events at the school – students jumping on teachers’ cars, verbal and physical fights in the classroom, potential sexual abuse by security guards – with those of his personal life, which isn’t much better. The dialogue is fantastically witty, although I felt like a bad person for laughing out loud in some of these scenarios. It is darkly comic in unexpected ways. And the characters, even the teachers who seem passionate about making a difference with their students, do such despicable things that it is hard to care about any of them, which may be the point. Everyone does bad things, and the teachers are no better than the students.

The main character, Luke, struggles to separate his personal and professional lives, especially when the extreme drunken debauchery of his weekends spills over into his weekdays. However, it takes him awhile to realize that his students have issues with their own personal lives, and that he can be there to support them or at least show them the way to a better future. He faces the challenge of teaching in an urban environment in which his students have no respect or desire for an education, and Luke vacillates between whether or not he can see the importance of it either.

Some of Luke’s personal issues were superfluous to the story, especially the side plot regarding his Mexican girlfriend. Although some readers have complained, the wild partying and bar scenes make sense (anyone would need a drink after facing these kids) in light of Luke’s age and cultural environment. However, I felt like some scenes were inserted just to push boundaries. Although Luke begins to make real connections with his students in a positive way, he can’t seem to do the same for his adult friends, whose immaturity rivals that of the eighth graders.

In the end, I was left feeling uncertain about the author’s motivations – is the novel about the failings of the education system, or the coming of age story of someone who just happens to be a school teacher? The message seemed to be that, with perseverance, Luke was capable of breaking through the tough exteriors of the children and truly educating them, but then he abandons it all. Is there hope for these kids – and their teachers – or not? I guess no one has the answer just yet.

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

A Place We Knew Well - Susan Carol McCarthy

Bantam Books, September 29, 2015.

Four Stars

In October of 1962, many Americans were caught up in the panic of the Cold War, and the Avery family is no exception. Wes Avery, along with his wife and daughter, has constructed for himself the perfect piece of the American Dream, and it is all disintegrating in the face of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Family values are of the utmost importance, and the author shows their destruction as a microcosm of the overall political crisis.

Wes is a veteran of WWII, and having witnessed firsthand the destruction of Hiroshima, he has a unique perspective on the situation in Cuba. Like most of his generation, he risked everything to end the war – to guarantee peace for his family – and now the threat has returned. The author provides a realistic portrayal of the madness of the time, including many intriguing historical details. It is a well-researched story that made me want to learn more, which I think is the sign of great writing.

Amidst the major threats of Castro and Khrushchev, the more trivial issues of everyday life continue as well. The panic of the whole community is distilled into the character of Sarah Avery, Wes’ wife. Her stress over world events is hidden with a myriad of pills prescribed freely by her doctor, as it was for many women in the sixties, but erratic behaviour is the main result of her overmedication. Meanwhile, the Averys’ daughter Charlotte just wants to enjoy the homecoming dance like a regular teenager.

Charlotte’s relationship with Emilio, a “Pedro Pan” boy, is one of the most interesting parts of the novel for me. Many children from Cuba were sent to America during the crisis to protect them from possible missile strike. While our focus on the Cold War is usually its effect on American lives, it was intriguing to learn about Cubans living in the United States at the time – they not only worried about their families back home, but also had to deal with racism in their adopted communities.

The novel expertly explored the non-fiction aspects of the Cuban Missile Crisis without becoming too dry – with Wes as a guide, the descriptions of the time period had a natural flow. I felt like I knew Wes, and I could relate to Charlotte, but I wish we could see more from Sarah’s perspective. In contrast, the Averys’ family secret – the climax of the story – was predictable and unsurprising. Overall, the novel had many good qualities, although some didn’t quite come together in the end. Even so, it was worth the read just for the historical details.

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