 3.5 stars
A window into a potential future, a commentary on our Earth's ecosystemic future, a murder mystery, and a story of motherhood all in one. Clean Air is hard to pin into one category. And that's not a bad thing at all. Concept: ★★★★★ Characters: ★★★ Plot/Pacing: ★★★★ Enjoyment: ★★★ 1/2 This one's a weird one. But worth a try for the right audience, and anyone who is interested in genre mashes. Clean Air follows the story of Izabel, a stay-at-home mom, who lives in a bubble home. (Ok, technically an airtight dome around her property, but still.) Her husband, Kaito, works remotely with the robot technology that harvests food in this brave new world. Her young daughter, Cami, only knows this life. The future has come. Humanity's climate-changing, disasterous ways finally led to a crisis: the trees revolted. Gradually, or not-so-gradually depending on who you ask, the trees began to produce a poisonous pollen in such large quantities that it began to wipe out humans. In large masses. This feels vaguely like a mixed metaphor of COVID and climate, but the author handled it pretty well. Now, a much, MUCH smaller civilization of humanity eeks out a life in these bubble communities that exist to prevent exposure to the rest of the planet. It's almost idyllic, when you get past the sheer "OH MY GOD" of it all. Everyone is happy, everyone is cared for, everyone if cohabiting... Nothing will go wrong again, right? Humans are totally, totally able to exist without fracturing in some way...right? Sigh. Of course not. When someone viciously punctures a hole in a family's bubble home one night, the entire family dies from the pollen exposure. It was a murder, and it had to have been done by one of the community members. And the murderer keeps doing it, and more people keep dying. Izabel, our mom with no experience, turns into our amateur investigator as she realizes that if someone doesn't stop this murderer, they'll eventually get to her and her family. It quickly becomes a fixation for Izabel... and we're along for the ride. I thought Clean Air did a ton of things really well--juggling a bunch of different genres, juxtaposing this future situation with our own, and highlighting the core tenants of humanity that remain no matter the year, or the situation, or the future. Motherhood remains. Corruption remains. The will to survive remains. And some other things. As someone who is not usually a science fiction/dystopian/futuristic reader, I can't say this novel was an ultimate favorite for me—it would have needed something speculative/magical to truly attach as that's who I am as a reader--I think it speaks to Clean Air's credit that I stayed invested and gripped by Izabel's journey the entire time. The murder mystery definitely helped with that, as without that compelling whodunit/whydunit narrative it would have felt much more meandering for me. Overall, a very engaging and compelling read. Definitely recommended for fans of any of the genres I've mentioned so far, and anyone interested in the prismatic future predictions of climate change fiction. Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review.
0 Comments
 5 stars
Occasionally you read a book so immersive and stunning, you can only hold on and settle in for the ride. I'm not usually an adult literary fiction gal but this one snuck in and smacked me sideways. Writing: ★★★★★ Characters: ★★★★★ Enjoyment: ★★★★★ As a woman, stories centered on gender and gender freedoms vs. oppression are always hard hitters for me. This one was no exception—strap in, folks. In different cultures, countries, and regions, the situation around a woman's freedom varies between relative freedom to unsettling/unsafe realities. In this particular story, the author delves into the following: What does it mean to be a woman here? What about over there? Honor explores these questions of womanhood, freedom, and agency through an Indian lens when one woman comes back to India after an adulthood of American living and reckons with her personal freedoms versus those of the Indian women in her home country. Indian-American journalist, Smita, returns to India at the beginning of this novel and discovers that she's been brought here for a serious reason—she's asked to cover the story of Meena, a Hindu woman who is experiencing a dangerous form of community-led hatred with Meena's recent decision to marry a Muslim man. Meena's situation is dire. Smita can help, especially because of her status as an Indian-American woman without the restrictions of the local landscape. Smita sets herself on the case, knowing that doing this will open a can of worms. But she can't stop—Meena needs help. Smita and Meena might both be Indian women, but their polar-opposite situations create a chasm for Smita as she is forced to reckon with her identity as an Indian-American woman and how much that differs from Meena's current reality. With absolutely beautiful prose and a heartbreaking core, Honor is one of those novels that explores heavy, lingering concepts with a deftness that keeps you reading—and keeps you hoping for the end. There are so many powerful themes at play here: sense of family, sense of duty and tradition, the threads of hope. The ties that bind and the cultural and community identities that cause harm while encouraging growth and family. The dualities at the heart of so many. To be honest, I feel like my review is struggling to encompass the realities of this story in a way that at all resembles the beauty of this novel. I'm not usually at a loss for words, but for Honor the scope was different and the emotions were deeper. This was an unstoppable story, and I am honored (pun intended) at the offer to be a part of its initial press. If you are interested in literary fiction and stories centered on women, I cannot recommend this highly enough. Thank you to Algonquin Books for my copy in exchange for an honest review.  4.5 stars
A near-perfect blend of atmospheric fiction mixed with a mystery. Not a standard mystery/thriller by any means...but a spectacular main character voice. I've added this author to my immediate "to watch" list and can see myself rereading this novel many times to come. Main character/Narrative Voice: ★★★★★ Atmosphere: ★★★★★ Actual Mystery(s): ★★ Pure Enjoyment: ★★★★★ So first off, I think that this novel is weirdly placed in the mystery/thriller category on the shelves when really, it's an atmospheric literary fiction with some dead bodies in it. It's like alternative take on a Jennifer McMahon, if you gutted all of her unnecessary meanderings and subplots (some people like them, I do not) and left us with just the vibes and atmosphere—and added a main character that pops right off the page and into your living room. Don't come for the devious and hard-to-grasp mystery—this is not a Christie whodunit. This is an atmospheric stay. Dark Currents follows the story of David, a transgender man who is returning to his childhood small town of New Compton, Rhode Island, a few years after his transition and right on the heels of his recent firing from a university. Why is David returning to his hometown, you might ask? Because his grandma, who lives there alone, is in the downward swing of degenerative memory loss and he received a disturbing voicemail from her one night. There's a body, there's a lot of blood, there's a lobster, and there's a man in the dark. Can David come now!? David rushes to the scene, but by the time he arrives his grandma's forgotten the whole thing and is surprised to see him there. But the dead body is real, and its grandma's neighbor and life-long old friend. It looks like an accident, but David can't be sure and neither can the town—their witness isn't exactly reliable, after all. With small town secrets, histories, family, and more colliding into one tangle, it's up to David and his ex-boyfriend, town cop Billy Dyer, to solve the mystery and untangle the threads of the past before it's too late. My thoughts: WOW. This writing voice. Every once in a while, you come across writing that just leaps off the page and into your room with you—the voice of the narrator is so strong and so vivid without being a distraction in its own right. Dark Currents is one of those books. I could practically hear David's voice in my head as I read these pages. I loved this book for that vividness alone as hardly any fiction does that for me these days. Another thing I loved about this novel was that the story wasn't really about the mystery. It was about the people and their histories and how they converged in this particular point in time. Dark Currents has a bit of an oral history vibe to it, with vignettes of stories interspersed as David's grandma's friends tell him about the past while he tries to untangle the present. It also has a strong small town and maritime vibe, which also appealed to me. The sea and its secrets, and those who keep them. Also, last but NOT least--this novel was hilarious too. Amid the extremely dark topics of murder, transphobia/PTSD, and degenerative memory loss and its affects on family, the dry one liners and situational humor that the author managed to organically fit into this story was just *chef's kiss*. I loved it.  3.5 stars
Beautifully written, evocative and emotionally turbulent... the realities of generational trauma, sense of self, and womanhood collide in this insightful and literary novel. Writing: ★★★★ Characters: ★★★★ Enjoyment: ★★★ Sometimes, you read a book and you realize that you're just not...there yet. For me, I think Carry the Dog was conveying messages that I was frankly too young to fully appreciate—I'm a mid-20-something woman, not someone looking back on her life in terms of decades. I'm not there yet, where Bea Seger is at in this novel. But I might be someday, and for that reason I found this novel extremely compelling. In the 1960s, when Bea was a young child, she and her siblings were photographed in a series of provocative and explosive nude photographs taken by their own mother. They were controversial at the time, and they've remained so up until the present day. But now, museums want to showcase them—and they're talking to Bea about it. Bea has spent a long time not analyzing those images, or her experiences with them. But should she? And even if she's not willing to self-analyze, would it be worth it for the money? With those questions circling around her, Bea is also dealing with other elements in her life. Like her complicated relationship with her divorced husband, which is filled with toxicity, subtle and overt betrayals, and issues. Bea's not exactly handled that well internally, either. But the light is starting to shine on Bea's life, and whether she likes it or not, it's time to look at the pieces around her and locate that inner steel at the core of her womanhood. Complex? Yes. Beautifully rendered? Also yes. An uplifting and joyful read? Not particularly. Like I mentioned earlier in this review, I think this book provides more poignancy and support to women and individuals with more life experiences under their belt—I'm not calling anyone "old," y'all, but I am calling myself too young to fully appreciate this novel's bittersweet and lingering resilience. However, I didn't have to fully understand Bea's struggles and emotional palate to appreciate the raw storytelling skills at play here. The author did a fantastic job at rendering Bea and her journey, and I couldn't help but appreciate that. Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review.  3.5 stars
Lyrical and lulling, this novel was an entrancing story of one woman's love of dance in 1960-1970s Bombay. Plot/Pacing: ★★★★ Narrative style: ★★ (did not work for me) Main character: ★★★★ Enjoyment: ★★★ I absolutely adored Shruti Swamy's A House is a Body short story collection. It was out-of-this-world mesmerizing and filled with stories that seared your soul. Because of that collection, I was thrilled to pick up a copy of her newest novel. Vidya is a girl growing up in 1960s Bombay. Raised within the traditional values of her culture and the world's views on womanhood, Vidya does not know how to fit in as a girl. She's hyperaware of her physical self and soul in her surroundings. But then everything changes when she begins to dance. As she falls further into the dancing world of Kathak, a style of dance known for its precision, Vidya begins to make order of her life. Dance becomes her means of ordering herself and her place within time and space. The years flow. The dance remains. This book calls itself "deeply sensual," and I strongly agree. Everything emotional and sensory is deeply feel through the pages, and there is a startling intimacy in the reader's connection to Vidya as she grows into womanhood and reckons with her life and the limitations of her gender. The Archer is memorable and lyrical, but I do have to admit that I loved it slightly less than Swamy's short story collection. I had a heck of a time getting into the narrative style of this one. The character's narration of her own thoughts and life's journey was intentionally distanced and meant to highlight her internal journey toward herself, yes, but it did make for a very difficult reading experience. Recommended for fans of the author's previous collection and for those who enjoy non-traditional narration. Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review.  4 stars
Another hypnotic, unstoppable novel from an author who can seemingly tackle any genre. Crime noir, interesting characters, and a plot that moves at the pace of a snail and yet captivates your attention. A very interesting read. Writing: ★★★★★ Pacing: ★★ Characters: ★★★★ Plot: ★★★★ Happy Publication Day! Velvet Was the Night is a study in interesting contradictions wrapped around a "true horror story," as the author herself notes in her afterword. I found it to be utterly compelling even despite of a few personal quirks. Maite is a 30-year-old woman in 1970s Mexico City. She lives in an apartment that she can't really afford, she works as a dictation secretary in a law office she doesn't like, and she's desperate for love and yet unwilling to open herself up to the possibility of finding it. She's not a likeable character, to be honest. But I didn't care--she was interesting. And interesting people are more fun to follow within a story. When her neighbor, the beautiful and artistic Leonara, asks Maite to watch her cat while she leaves town for a few days, Maite reluctantly agrees. Maite has no idea how that one decision will change her life. Leonara doesn't return. And things in Mexico City are about to boil over into a political nightmare with Maite, of all people, somehow at the center of the story. Entwined with Maite's story is the story of Elvis, a young man working for the Hawks, a shady, guerilla/gangsterized form of enforcers operating in the shadows of the current Mexican regime. Elvis fell into the line of work when his petty thieving brought him to the attention of the wrong people, and now he's embroiled in the drama whether he wants to be or not. And Elvis isn't quite sure these days. As Maite's and Elvis' lives meld into one noir narrative bubbling with intrigue, Velvet Was the Night embarks on a simmering adventure. Now, I'm starting from a place of bias when I say that I love Silvia Moreno-Garcia already. I'm primed to—at a minimum—enjoy her work as I love her writing style and her way of delving into character development. This novel was no exception. I loved it too. Velvet Was the Night was a different kind of Moreno-Garcia read, however, and I'm still chewing on the why. For one thing, it took Moreno-Garcia's already slowwww pacing and dialed it down even further. Which I didn't know was possible. Let's be honest: I struggled with the slowness of the pacing for the first half of the book because it was just that—tooooooo slowwwwww. But then the simmering, never-at-rest and yet slow-as-heck vibe started to get to me. I was hooked, and even though I still wanted the ride to go faster, I was getting into it as a slow burn. Good synonyms for this story: simmering, digesting, creeping, enveloping. Slow and steady wins the RACE, y'all. I also had a bit of a harder time with this novel as the characters weren't who I wanted them to be. I don't know why, maybe it's society's expectations or stereotypes of the genre or something else, but the fact that Maite and Elvis continued to thwart my expectations of them (sometimes even in negative ways) just really took me aback. Looking back on the reading experience, I liked that about the novel. But during the read I found it frustrating. See what I mean? Contradictions. An odd, lingering, inescapable story. Another winner. Silvia, what WILL you write next??? I am already waiting. Thank you to Del Rey for my copy in exchange for an honest review.  3.75 stars
Really interesting. Hypnotic. Didn’t go where I expected it to go, and carried an uncomfortable edge from beginning to bitter end. Writing style: ★★★★ Sense of unease: ★★★★★ Plot/Pacing: ★★★ 1/2 The Temple House Vanishing comes out on July 6! As I write this review, there's a thunderstorm outside my window and we're on our 5th day of constant rain and storms. This feels almost creepily tied to the review of this book... so I'm rolling with it. It was a dark, and stormy night... But actually, it wasn't. It was just "a" night in the rural Irish moors when Louisa disappears from the Temple House school. The enigmatic young male teacher, Mr. Lavelle, disappears too. Many theories abound over the years as neither student nor teacher are seen again. Did they run off together? Was their something sordid in their closeness? Where are they now? What REALLY happened that school year in the all-girls boarding school? On the 25th anniversary of the disappearances, a journalist decides to have a crack at solving the case. The students are now middle-aged women, the nuns who ran the school are dead, and Temple House itself is slated for demolition. If the case is going to be solved at all, it must be now. But all is not what it seems, and as the layers unpeel from this gothic tale the lingering sense of unease creeps up on you. Don't get too comfortable. I thought this was a very interesting novel. Is it a mystery/thriller? Kind of. Is it a twisted tale, meant to unearth the darkest aspects of human nature? I don't know if I'd say that. In the end, I'd say it's a character study and an exercise in the gothic classics. The Temple House Vanishing is perfect for those who enjoy Sarah Waters and Sarah Moss. The writing style took a little getting used to, as it's very no-nonsense and deals in overt sentences laced with undertones. I found it really easy to get lost in the surface plot and glaze over some of the fine print in the details... and then that would bite me later, as those fine details were where the true story is unfolding. A complex, multilayered dual-POV novel with a lot of interesting nuances. Now, a brief NON-SPOILER section on the ending. As this novel is centered around a mysterious circumstance, there is a final series of reveals regarding The Truth of What Happened. I found myself surprised by the ending... and also slightly cheated... and also vaguely uneasy. It wasn't a comfortable, or frankly satisfying, ending. But it felt very real and not over-sensationalized and honestly fit right in with the overall sense of lingering unease that the novel provoked. If this review doesn't turn you right off from the book, then I'd say you should pick it up! The target audience is on the small, niche side, but you'll have a good time here if that's your thing. Thank you to Algonquin Books for my copy in exchange for an honest review.  3.5 stars
This was…complex. I've slept on this review, and at the end of the day I think it boils down to this: this is a memorable, engaging, and haunting story. But ultimately not for me. Writing: ★★★★ Story structure: ★★★ Plot/Pacing: ★★★ Characters: ★★★ Dave Cartwright is done. Unwilling to look his PTSD from Iraq in the eye, when his wife dies in a car accident after their last fight it's the last straw for Dave--he throws in the towel. With society. He becomes convinced that the only way to take charge of his life--and the life of his seven-year-old daughter, Bella--is that he needs to move them into the North Cascades, a mountain range in rural Washington. So he does. He leaves his house, his life, his money, and his support network and takes Bella. So the two Cartwrights move into the wilderness. So far, so good. Bella thinks its an adventure, and Dave can finally breathe away from all of the gunk that he didn't want to face in town. But then things start to turn, and Bella's life changes--she starts seeing these visions. Not flashbacks, per se, but more glimpses into the life of an ancient Native American woman who lived in these mountains at the end of the last Ice Age. With those two dual narratives--Bella and Dave's in the present, Sitka and her son's in the far ancient past--this novel unfolds with atmospheric undertones and an ominous edge. Will the North Cascades let either duo survive? If this feels very much like the concept of Into the Wild to you, you're not alone. I felt very similar vibes and reactions to this decision while Dave was putting it into place. (Into the Wild frustrated me to no end.) Does Dave think this will work? How does he think this is good for his daughter, who is still learning things in school and is grieving herself? How long does he think he can keep this up? Why are we spending so much time with this Native American family? Why is Bella seeing their lives play out like a disassociated movie in her head? Those were my questions. Maybe it was just me, as a 26-year-old female with no overly outdoor bone in her body. Maybe it was also my complete lack of experience with PTSD as it relates to our current veterans returning from a war with more grey areas than justice. But. At the end of the day, I just didn't understand Dave or his motivations. And when I couldn't get behind his decisions, I found myself upset with the story. I was worried for Bella, for their survival, for their sanity. I was also extremely perturbed by the lack of action taken by the town and Dave's surrounding family. I don't know, folks. I found myself more concerned with the logistics and logic of this book to the point that I couldn't enjoy the story. My family calls me the extreme "over -worrier" though, so take my ??? with a grain of salt. Another element of the story that confused me was the interjections of Sitka, the Native American woman, surviving with her young family in the same wilderness. I completely understood the parallels taking place--one family versus another in the same place, with the same desperate wills to survive. But to have Sitka's story displayed to Bella, and not to Dave, felt strange to me. How is a young child supposed to make sense of that story, and what was she supposed to do with this information? I don't know. As you can see, I have a lot of feelings and strong emotions around this story. Because of that, I DO strongly encourage others to pick up Legends of the North Cascades if the story seems of interest to you. The writing is stellar and the plot is compelling, and it clearly provokes a response--which is the best type of fiction. Thank you to Algonquin for my copy in exchange for an honest review.  3.5 stars
Compelling and off-kilter, this novel was a very quick read. But I wanted more as a mystery reader? Writing: ★★★★ Concept: ★★★★★ Mystery elements: ★★ Conclusion: ★★ This is another one of those books where I have to preface my review and say "oh hey, it was me again—I thought this book would be something else. Whoops!" That doesn't happen too often these days as I'm getting better and better at figuring out my own reading preferences... but clearly there are still some one-offs that sneak past my radar. I was looking for a more standard whodunit, complete with a detective, a perpetrator, and a solution. The Falling Woman is more lyrical than that, and less tied to those rules and regulations. This is a novel about humanity, struggle, and what we do when faced with impossibilities. It's a beautiful novel in it's own way. At first it's just a rumor. A woman survived a mid-air plane explosion? Impossible. Literally, unbelievable. But the rumor grows, and soon the investigators in charge of explaining the plane crash take a leap into the impossible - maybe the "falling woman" is real. And if so, how exactly did she survive? Plane crash investigator Charlie Ranford is on the case. Well, he's mostly on the case. Okay, partially on the case. He doesn't exactly want to be on the case, but that's the way it is, alright? (Charlie is a very contradictory, anxiety-ridden personality. It's a little exhausting.) A reluctant advocate for the "Falling Woman," as she is dubbed by the press, Charlie starts to unpeel the layers from fact and fiction to see if maybe, just maybe, she's a legitimate story. But if she's real... why can't they find her? Why did she go off the grid? Does she not want to reunite with her family? Why? The Falling Woman unpeels like an complicated wrapping, and as we uncover the motivations and situations that led to Charlie speaking in front of a tribunal about his actions following the crash, we as the reader come to realize that this isn't a mystery about who or what ended the lives of those on the plane. It's a story about humans, and the struggles and realities that we all face when confronted with impossible choices. Give this one a try if you like novels centered on the complexities of our decisions, humans stuck in hard places, and the ties that connect us all in the end. This isn't a novel with a "who crashed the plane and why ending" and I feel like that's not a bad spoiler to share - because if that's a spoiler to you, then this isn't the right novel to read. Come for the characters and stay for the characters—it's a fascinating journey. Thank you to Algonquin for my copy in exchange for an honest review.  3.5 stars
A complicated story with some beautiful writing. The "hot stew" of one community's complex and layered peoples amidst conflict? Indeed. Writing: ★★★★★ Emotional connection: ★★ Plot/Pacing: ★★★★ So this is a doozy of a novel. I'm going to do my best to synthesize my feelings for it here, but as it was so complex and rich with social commentary, I'm sure I'll accidentally overlook at least one thing. In modern-day Soho, where sex workers, restauranteurs, drifters, old hanger-ons and more all coexist on the same street, "community" is a blended thing. For sex workers Precious and Tabitha, their community is a rich tapestry of clients, coworkers, neighbors, and old acquaintances—and each other. For Robert, one of their older regulars, his memories of a time as a gang leader's heavy-hitter are an unwelcome reminder of the past and the people around him at all times. For Agatha, the complicated daughter of Robert's billionaire gang leader and the property owner of Precious and Tabitha's building, community is a concept that she shuns and tries to bury in cold distance and money. Those are just a few of the perspectives we're following in Hot Stew, Fiona Mozley's sophomore novel. A complex, ever-shifting perspective of one community's simmering landscape...this was intense. The inciting incident is Agatha's decision to force out those who live in her properties, but it quickly becomes a different animal to read--this isn't just about a property, or even an address. It's about the soft ties that bind a bunch of (seemingly) unconnected people. For those who love literary fiction with an edge, this is a great novel for you. It is scintillating in its perusal of womanhood and ownership. It also tackles multi-generational conflicts and lasting impacts. It is also an introspective of a geographically-based community. However, I as a reader was not the perfect audience. While I enjoyed and quickly became engrossed in the storytelling, Hot Stew failed to cross the barrier between awareness and involvement for me on a character level. I am a very character-driven reader. Due to the focus on almost a dozen distinct POVs in this slim novel—and the intention of the author to focus on the community itself as a singular "POV" of sorts—I felt perpetually held at a distance from the characters themselves. Overall, personal lack of connection aside, I found Hot Stew utterly compelling. Do pick it up if any of the above has interested you—you're in for a memorable reading experience. Thank you to Algonquin for my copy in exchange for an honest review. |
Amy Imogene ReadsJust someone looking for her own door into Wonderland. Archives
May 2022
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed
|
Home
About Contact |
All reviews posted are my own and do not reflect the opinions of any other individual or entity. When applicable, reviewed titles sent to me by the publisher are noted at the bottom of each review.
|