February 27, 2016

Sleeping Embers of an Ordinary Mind - Anne Charnock


47North Publishing, December 1, 2015.

Four Stars



Moving between three timelines, this novel explores the power of art and creativity in our lives. It is also about the connections between people throughout history, and the ways that art can connect us across time. The reader is witness to three very different, yet equally close family units, and the ways they communicate using art.  There are elements of historical fiction and sci-fi, but the novel is overall literary in form, with other elements used sparingly.


In fifteenth-century Italy, the painter Paolo Uccello teaches his trade to his daughter, Antonia. As it is unusual for a woman at the time to work on her own creative pursuits, he finds a place for her in a nunnery so that she can continue to paint. Her work goes largely unnoticed for many centuries, until a portrait of her mother is rediscovered in the future.


In present day London, another painter lives with his daughter, Toni. He is a copyist by profession, and the two of them travel to China where he is commissioned to copy a Uccello battle painting. In the third setting, Toniah is an art historian in the 22nd-century – her job is to discredit male artists such as Gauguin, and elevate female artists instead. Upon finding Antonia Uccello’s work, she works to put the young female artist in the spotlight, creating some controversy.


As I first began to read this novel, I thought it would be similar to another that I recently read: Girl Reading, by Katie Ward. They both use interconnected stories spanning history and reaching into the future, in order to discuss feminist revisionist art history. Both books conclude with a futuristic art historian, looking back at the past and rewriting history to fill in the cracks that female artists have fallen through. However, the two novels are also very different, and I especially found that Sleeping Embers has much more depth of character, which makes the writing feel more immersive than jumping from story to story in Girl Reading. Ward’s book travels chronologically through history, while Charnock’s is written in short chapters that jump between time periods – the style was hard to get into, but once you do, it really works well.


A major theme of two of the three settings is strong father-daughter relationships, in which the artist father teaches his child to see the world with an artists’ eye. However, in 2113, Toniah was born using parthenogenesis – a method of impregnating the mother without using a male donor. I felt that the author was making a very strong point here, but it just didn’t quite come together. In fact, that was my main problem with the novel overall – there were so many diverse subjects explored, that some of them may not have been developed fully. This led me to spend a lot of time considering the author’s motivation as I read, and I think ultimately she is advocating for balance as we rewrite history with a feminist slant.


Each time period has a very distinct setting and each of the three women (Antonia, Toni, Toniah) have a clear voice to express their viewpoint in the world they live in. With three women telling three stories, I couldn’t help comparing the novel to a tryptich – three paintings that stand alone, yet are enhanced when viewed together. There was so much to see here, and so much left up to the reader’s imagination, that I get the feeling I probably missed out on so many other connections. Although, with such an abrupt ending, I also can’t help but wonder if there is a sequel yet to come. Regardless, this novel was thought-provoking, and I recommend giving it a try.


I received this novel from Netgalley and 47North Publishing in exchange for an honest review.

February 23, 2016

Youngblood - Matt Gallagher


Atria Books, February 2, 2016.



Four Stars



Jack Porter is a young lieutenant in the U.S. Military, stationed in Ashuriyah, Iraq. In his early twenties, Jack does his best to assert his leadership over his troops and make good decisions, all while wondering what they are really accomplishing, if anything. Despite their best efforts, the area is still in turmoil, and it is run for the most part by the Iraqi leaders of local tribes. Violence is a daily possibility, while at the same time, the men are dragged down by the tediousness of waiting for something to happen in the middle of the desert.


While Jack does his best to keep the peace not only with the locals but also within his platoon, a veteran sergeant shows up and upsets the careful balance in Ashuriyah with his brash ways. Sergeant Chambers has fought this war before, and he thinks he knows best, overpowering the group with his aggressive style. Meanwhile, Jack, who should be standing up to Chambers, becomes obsessed with a tragic local love story – an American soldier who was killed because of his love for Rana, a local Sheik’s daughter. Jack begins his investigation as a way to oust Chambers from the area, but instead he is drawn in to the lives of Rana and her children – so much so that he puts everything (his life, his career, and the fragile peace of the area) at risk to protect them.


Youngblood (Chambers’ nickname for the young men in the unit) is a novel about the complexities of war – the moral dilemmas that any leader must face, amplified by Jack’s youth and passionate uncertainties. It shows the absurd contrast between the boredom of daily patrols and the always imminent danger of IEDs. Jack also considers his grandfathers’ roles in WWII – they sacrificed everything to fight Fascism, and Jack can’t quite figure out what he’s really fighting for, especially as allegiances change constantly.


For me, the most enlightening parts of the book were Jack’s conversations with people back home in the U.S. His brother Will is a military vet who understands that leadership – being responsible for the lives of those around you – is the hardest part of war. Meanwhile, Jack is frustrated with his stateside girlfriend Marissa – he pushes her away because he is unable to discuss the tragedies of war with her, yet he is resentful of her absence. The complexities of character are well-developed, especially in Jack and Chambers, but also in the other soldiers and even the Iraqi locals. Their distinct personalities are clear, and Jack grows and changes immensely throughout the novel.


The dialogue was really well-done, with enough military jargon sprinkled in to make it realistic, while still staying true to each character’s voice. The novel is plot-driven, yet there is also a subtlety to the relationships between characters that is very literary – the author allows room for empathy for a range of characters, and there are no “bad guys” here. As a former U.S. Army captain, Gallagher kept a controversial blog while deployed in Iraq, which later evolved into his memoir, Kaboom. His experiences are what make this novel seem so real, as he explores the many gray areas in the context of war. There are many violent scenes, but not unnecessarily so, and the story is ultimately about the people – the humanizing aspects of war.


I received this novel from Simon & Schuster/Atria Books in exchange for an honest review.

February 18, 2016

The Widow - Fiona Barton


NAL – Berkley Publishing Group, February 16, 2016.

 

Three Stars


 

Once again, this novel is being set up as the next Gone Girl. I know the comparison does wonders to sell books, but in this case, I think it is detrimental to the reader. The Widow was not nearly twisty enough to compare to Gone Girl, and in fact, I found myself disappointed because I was expecting so much more for the ending. It’s worse than predictable, because I was predicting an amazing surprise – and it just wasn’t there.

 

That being said, this was still a very enjoyable read, if you aren’t led to expect a shocking ending. The psychological thrills in The Widow are more of a slow burn, with plenty of creepy innuendo and unreliable narration. Jean Taylor, the titular widow, gives us hints of her unreliability right from the start, yet her only sin is really extreme naivety. I think if her role in her husband’s crime had been more explicit, I would have found the novel more satisfying overall – but maybe I just like a tricky narrator.

 

In 2006, Jean’s husband Glen is accused of kidnapping a two-year-old girl, Bella, from her front yard. Bella is never found, and Glen finds a shady lawyer to help him avoid any charges – he even manages to successfully sue the police department for entrapment. In 2010, Glen is hit and killed by a bus. Again, there were all sorts of hints that his death might have been more than an accident (Jean, the wife who claimed she wanted to be rid of him, was standing right there…), yet it was never developed in the story. With her husband’s death, Jean is once again hounded by the media who want to hear the truth about Bella’s abduction, assuming she was previously lying to protect Glen. So, she decides to tell them her version of the story.

 

The setting moves back and forth from 2006 to 2010, and we jump between sections titled “The Detective”, “The Journalist”, “The Mother” (of Bella), and “The Widow.” I found the detective’s parts to be the most interesting, as he becomes obsessed with finding the missing girl, to the detriment of his personal and professional life. Kate the journalist’s sections were good as well – she is a fully formed character who will do just about anything to get her hands on the story. The background details of the police and media in both time periods were really the redeeming sections of the book. Meanwhile, Jean’s sections were tedious and hard to read because she is in such denial of her husband’s behavior. I think I would have preferred not to have Jean’s point of view at all because it would have been much more suspenseful to be unaware of what she knew.

 

The Widow is certainly a great example of psychological suspense, and if that’s your genre, by all means you will enjoy this. I just felt like it could have been developed further, with a more shocking ending. Still a great read – one you can’t put down until you get to the last page.

 


I received this novel from Netgalley and NAL – Berkley Publishing Group in exchange for an honest review.

February 15, 2016

Angels Burning - Tawni O'Dell


Gallery Books, January 5, 2016.

 

Four Stars


 

Angels Burning is a fast-paced literary thriller about the murder of a teenage girl in a small town, and the police chief who must investigate a crime that has strange parallels to her own childhood. Dove Carnahan, the chief of police in rural Pennsylvania, has some dark secrets that are suddenly beginning to resurface from her past, in the form of her estranged brother and his young son, as well as a newly released convict with ties to Dove’s deceased mother. While she deals with the emotional upheaval that these men bring with them, Dove also manages to focus on finding young Camio’s killer.

 

I loved that Dove was not the traditional crime-fighting hero. She is middle-aged, slightly overweight, and laments her need for reading glasses – and she is unselfconscious about all of her flaws. She comes across as realistic and relatable, not just physically, but also in the way she processes her thoughts and feelings. Dove has kept her secret (revealed late in the novel) since the age of sixteen, which is perhaps why she relates so easily to Camio, the teenage victim, as well as empathizing with the young suspects involved in the case.

 

The murder plot itself is nothing really new, yet it is told in such a fresh new way. Dove’s sassy attitude is conveyed in her dark, clever humour which shines through even the small details of this novel. As she investigates the murder, she is reminded of her own story, and of the lengths people will go to escape the fate established by their upbringing.

 

While Dove works with another detective who is also an occasional love interest, she always puts herself and her family first. Her family life is often dysfunctional, yet there is a lot of love buried deeply. I was impressed that the romance did not become central to the story, and that Dove remained strong and independent throughout. She is certainly portrayed as a powerful female role model within her community, and it’s nice to see this written so matter-of-factly, with an older woman in a position of power.

 

I found the details of the various crimes to be realistic without any over the top gore. There were several twists to keep the reader guessing and move the plot along rapidly. The humour was fantastic as well, and often surprising. The real strength of the novel, however, is the strong development of the characters. Dove seems so realistic and her narration is seamless. Additionally, the varied cast of minor characters were believable and well done. The only weakness in my opinion was Lucky, a man from Dove’s past, who came across as a bit of a cliché, and his tangential story line seemed irrelevant in the end.

 

Overall, I really enjoyed this and would recommend it whether you are a reader of literary fiction or mystery/thriller genres – there is a bit of something for everyone. I haven’t read O’Dell since her earlier novel, Back Roads, but I will now be seeking out more of her work.
 

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

February 12, 2016

The Center of the World - Jacqueline Sheehan


Kensington Publishing, December 29, 2015.



Three Stars


When Kate’s husband dies suddenly, her world is shaken in more ways than one. She discovers that he has left a posthumous letter to her daughter Sofia, explaining the truth about her adoption. Sofia was always told that she was legally adopted from an orphanage in Mexico before moving to New England with Kate. However, Kate has been keeping a dangerous secret from everyone about the real origins of her daughter. Rescued from civil unrest and bloodshed in Guatemala, the only way to keep Sofia safe was to lie to everyone.

The first section of the novel, set in present day New England, set the scene at a slow pace. It felt very ChickLit and uninteresting. However, the second part picked up, and brought much more depth to the story. As the novel flashes back to Kate’s time in Guatemala as a grad student, we discover the necessity of her deceptions. Not only did she witness the massacre of Mayan villagers in a civil conflict, she also knew too much about the American collusion with the Guatemalan government. There is also a romantic element that created more intrigue without being overly predictable.

At some points, I felt that the author was purposely manipulating my emotions, making the story more dramatic than it needed to be, when it could have stood on its own. From the melodramatic beginning, the story really developed with Kate’s experiences in Guatemala. The final section tied everything up a bit too neatly, although there was a lot more depth (emotionally and politically) than I initially expected. Overall, the novel had a great flow with an intense plot and some strong characters – a very enjoyable read.

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

February 09, 2016

The Lost Garden - Ang Li


Columbia University Press, November 24, 2015.



Three Stars


The Lost Garden follows two parallel story lines that enhance one another in their description of both the political and the personal in Taiwan. The first follows the childhood of Zhu Yinghong, whose father was imprisoned by Chiang Kai-Shek’s regime for his intellectual dissent. When he is eventually released from prison, he retreats into his Lotus Garden, built to his exacting desires. The second story line takes place in modern day Taiwan, where Zhu Yinghong begins a courtship with wealthy tycoon Lin Xigeng. The Lotus Garden has been appropriated by the government, and the relationship between the two hinges on their ability to regain the paradise of the garden.

My main issue with the writing style was the abrupt shifts in perspective, from first to third. It made the story seem jumpy and was sometimes hard to follow. There were also many small stories – almost like parables – within the broader plot. I was completely drawn in by the strong and exciting prologue, but after that the pacing really slowed down and became very repetitive. Although we as readers are constantly being moved around in time, the repetition did serve to hold the story together, especially Zhu Yinghong’s insistence that she was “born in the last year of the war” – metaphorically of course, as she is referring to the First Sino-Japanese war which ended in 1895. Her father tells her that the statement is essentially true, as she is a result of the effects of this war.

The novel has a strong political theme, especially concerning Japan’s control over Taiwan and the communist regime that followed after World War II. Zhu Yinghong’s family prospered under Japanese rule, and then lost everything simply for being a part of the intellectual gentry. Zhu Yinghong performs well in her new circumstances, yet she still yearns for her family’s lost property. Her romance with Lin Xigeng distracts her for a time, until their rocky courtship leads to an unfulfilling marriage. She gives up her sense of self for her husband, then realizes it was not him that she wanted – it was always the Lotus Garden.

The Lost Garden explores issues of identity, both personal and political. Zhu Yinghong develops throughout the novel, on a journey to understand what is really important to her. The garden represents not only her family’s lost wealth, but also their lost innocence. The writing and the translation were lyrical and lovely, sometimes awkward but always interesting, with beautiful descriptions of Taiwan and its struggle for independence.

I received this book for free from Columbia University Press and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

February 05, 2016

A Strangeness in My Mind - Orhan Pamuk


Knopf Books, October 20, 2015.



Four Stars



I have loved some of Nobel Prize Winner Orhan Pamuk’s novels (Snow, My Name is Red), but recently I have read a couple that I did not enjoy as much. Pamuk’s work all seems to have a similar tone and atmosphere, with a narrative voice that blurs together between books – and all of them star the city of Istanbul. On reading other reviews of this latest novel, I have noticed that people enjoyed it most when they had read other books by Pamuk – as if this new book is enhanced by his body of work as a whole. I do think that his books create layers of description, setting and voice; that being said, I wouldn’t recommend this book as the first one to read, although I still really enjoyed it.


A Strangeness in My Mind is organized using an interesting technique: the main narrative flow is interrupted by snippets of first person commentary, as if these characters are being interviewed by the author. Later in the novel, the narration is taken over completely by these multiple characters. At first I did not like the style of writing, but it grew on me, and became more interesting towards the end. Having multiple perspectives of the same event is always fun for catching out unreliable narrators.


The novel tells the story of Mevlut, a young man who comes to Istanbul from the Turkish countryside, determined to make his fortune as a street vendor. He has many jobs throughout his long life, but the most meaningful is his work selling boza, a traditional fermented drink. In addition to the creative narration, the novel jumps around in time: in Part One we are told in only a few pages that Mevlut was once in love with a girl he had never met, and he wrote her love letters for three years. He decides to elope with her in secret – and that is when he realizes that the girl he was writing to is actually his future wife’s sister. In the next several sections, these events and the time leading up to them are all examined in detail.


The remainder of the book leads us through Mevlut’s life, including a feeling of “strangeness” that seems to continually haunt him. He grows to love his accidental wife and their two daughters, but he always feels that something is missing. Moving from job to job, searching for meaning in politics and religion, Mevlut tells his wife, “[t]here is a strangeness in my mind…[n]o matter what I do, I feel completely alone in this world.” (P. 228) He feels different from everyone else – but then, who doesn’t?


This is a coming-of-age story that lasts a lifetime, with Mevlut constantly trying to find himself. Through Mevlut’s wandering the city streets as a boza vendor, it is also an exploration of the city of Istanbul, and its continual evolution. The city witnessed the movement from traditional rural life to modern urban living, changing the socio-political situation in Turkey throughout the twentieth century. These changes have culminated most recently in the influx of Syrian refugees. Mevlut, and by extension the city of Istanbul, attempt to reconcile modern life with the long history of the city – the familiar streets become strange as they rapidly change.


Mevlut learns to adapt with his city. He sees it for what it is – his is not a misty-eyed adoration of Istanbul, but he loves it regardless. He also learns to balance his public and private lives, showing one self to the world, and keeping his “strangeness” inside his mind. He is aware of the compromises in his life, and he finds ways to live with them. One metaphor for this is his selling of boza: it is a fermented, mildly-alcoholic drink, yet people deny this and drink it anyway. Mevlut’s friend argues that “boza is just something someone invented so Muslims could drink alcohol, it’s booze in disguise – everyone knows that.” (P. 269) Yet Mevlut is happy to lie and tell people it is non-alcoholic, thus taking the sin onto himself.


Pamuk tells Mevlut’s story in simple language, which is best to record the complex plot and multiple main characters. The novel can be read on so many levels, and it is enhanced with new ways of looking at Mevlut’s life story. I am enjoying it more as I reflect over its many layers, and I highly recommend Pamuk’s work as a whole.

I received this novel from Knopf Books and Goodreads First Reads in exchange for an honest review.

February 02, 2016

The Age of Reinvention - Karine Tuil


Atria Books, December 1, 2015.



Three Stars



Growing up as a Tunisian immigrant in Paris, Samir Tahar works hard to succeed despite his poor upbringing. He makes his way to law school, where he meets fellow student Samuel Baron, a Jewish man with a tragic past. They are inseparable friends, until Samir has an affair with Samuel’s girlfriend, Nina. When Nina chooses to stay with Samuel, Samir flees France, and starts a new life in America – using Samuel’s identity.


Samir comes looking for the American dream, yet he cannot get ahead as an Arab immigrant. When he shortens his name to Sam and people begin to assume he is Jewish, he does not correct them. With this recreation of himself, Sam becomes extremely wealthy and successful as a lawyer at a top law firm, with a beautiful wife and two children. Life is going along smoothly, until he is reunited with Samuel and Nina, and his true identity is exposed.


The story moves along in a rambling, stream-of-consciousness style, with no distinct voices. The writing is good, but there is no emotional investment in the characters. A finalist for the Prix Goncourt, this novel was originally published in 2013 in French, and it is very European in style. The subject matter is very relevant, with the Parisian setting and exploration of terrorism/anti-terrorism – as one official tells Samir, “[w]hen it comes to anti-terrorism, there are no rules anymore. They can do anything they want.” (Loc. 4002)


There are some interesting philosophical conversations, especially between the two men, Jewish and Muslim – debating over who is more persecuted. Samuel rejects his own history, yet he feels violated when Samir co-opts it. Ultimately their argument is over Nina, as a symbol of what they both desire – and they show us that love and heartbreak are the great equalizer of race and religion.


The characters are all fairly unlikeable – I don’t always mind that, but in this case, I felt like they were very secondary to the author’s political views. Samuel, Samir and Nina are each used as a vehicle to express ideas, but they don’t seem to have any real thoughts of their own. The characters are really secondary to what they represent: political tensions, racial profiling, and concealment of identity. This is a book of ideas, above all else, and they are more relevant than ever.


Ultimately, whether Muslim, Jewish, or otherwise, we are all constantly reinventing ourselves, it just depends on who is watching. Everyone thinks life would be easier if they were someone else, but it takes real strength to accept your own identity regardless of persecution. Samir reinvented his exterior image, but he was still the same inside – and when he embraces that self, he is truly redeemed.

I received this novel from Atria Books and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.