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Book Review: Fruit of the Dead by Rachel Lyon
A contemporary retelling of Demeter and Persephone featuring a Hades who is a pharmaceutical company executive with a private island.
Summary:
Camp counselor Cory Ansel, eighteen and aimless, afraid to face her high-strung single mother in New York, is no longer sure where home is when the father of one of her campers offers an alternative. The CEO of a Fortune 500 pharmaceutical company, Rolo Picazo is middle-aged, divorced, magnetic. He is also intoxicated by Cory. When Rolo proffers a childcare job (and an NDA), Cory quiets an internal warning and allows herself to be ferried to his private island. Plied with luxury and opiates manufactured by his company, she continues to tell herself she’s in charge. Her mother, Emer, head of a teetering agricultural NGO, senses otherwise. With her daughter seemingly vanished, Emer crosses land and sea to heed a cry for help she alone is convinced she hears.
Alternating between the two women’s perspectives, Rachel Lyon’s Fruit of the Dead incorporates its mythic inspiration with a light touch and devastating precision. The result is a tale that explores love, control, obliteration, and America’s own late capitalist mythos. Lyon’s reinvention of Persephone and Demeter’s story makes for a haunting and ecstatic novel that vibrates with lush abandon. Readers will not soon forget it.
Review:
I’ve seen some reviews from folks who entered this book clearly not knowing anything about the myth of Demeter and Persephone. I think that’s a mistake. Knowing the myth helps you know what vibes to expect from this book at least. It helps match the book properly with the readers who might enjoy it. So if you’re not already familiar, take a moment to read a quick summary. Ok. This is not a romance. This is a story of a young girl who gets abducted by the literal god of the underworld and tricked into eating something while there that will make her always have to return. It’s also the story of her mother’s desperate quest to find her.
This is a modern retelling devoid of fantasy. It takes the myth and places it in our modern world. Hades is a pharmaceutical company executive. A billionaire. He’s currently going through a legal battle to do with his very addictive pain pills. (He’s clearly an allusion to the Sackler family.) Personally, I loved the choice of a billionaire drug pusher as the stand-in for Hades.
Persephone is Cory. A just barely turned 18-year-old whose high-achieving mother wants desperately for her to go to college but who did not get in anywhere she applied. She and her mother are not getting along right now. (There are reasons for this rift beyond college that are a spoiler and are revealed later in the book.) She goes to be a camp counselor where she went to summer camp in essentially a huff. At the end of summer camp, the father of one of the children shows up to pick up the child and asks her to come to his private island to nanny the son and a daughter for a month. She has to sign an NDA. She cannot tell her mother where, exactly she is. This is the getting ripped into the underworld bit. nstead of the pomegranate seeds, what Cory is given is, naturally, the pain killing drugs. Her mother, after a bit of time and one very weird phone call, cannot shake the feeling something is wrong, and drops everything to go after her daughter. It’s kind of Taken but with a mom.
I really enjoyed the vibes of this book. It oozed danger even when nothing super insidious was happening. While things do escalate, for a lot of the book it’s not that anything is technically wrong, it just feels wrong. It’s an art form to be able to mimic that gut reaction in fiction. This was one of the stronger parts of the book. I also really enjoyed a part where different plot points came together in what one could have called a coincidence, but also could be called the gods interfering. It was astutely (and kindly) done.
However. This book chose to never use quotation marks for dialogue. Not once. This is a stream of consciousness writing technique. It’s becoming more common in modern books, although you can also see it in James Joyce, for instance. The reasons given by modern authors – like “removing the hierarchy between author and reader” – frankly make me raise my eyebrows in doubtful question. (It sounds like something a dinner party guest of Frasier’s would suggest.) It strikes me as a full-of-oneself literary technique that just forces the reader to work harder. What’s wrong with reading quickly and with easy interpretation? I found it quite distracting in this book. I had to re-read certain passages to try to figure out who said what and whether it was a thought or actually spoken out loud.
Of course the Persephone and Demeter myth is dark. It stands to reason that Hades forces himself on Persephone, and this book doesn’t shy away from that. So there are two sexual assaults. One is described as a memory. The other is described in the moment as the character is living it. There’s also a child sexual assault hinted at in flashbacks but not described in any detail. It’s more that the character is remembering how she felt when it happened than what actually happened. Finally, there’s a self-injury described.
I realize that in the myth Persephone is doomed to return to Hades for half the year forever. This can be a tricky thing to address in an updated retelling. But some aspect of what next could have been addressed. I would like to have seen just a hint of how the mother/daughter were going to try to work through this, even if they might not be successful.
Overall, this is an interesting modern retelling of the Persephone and Demeter myth. It admirably writes pharmaceutical companies as the underworld and a CEO billionaire as their god. Potential readers should be aware that this is a dark story, not a romance. It contains sexual assault. Some readers may not enjoy the complete lack of quotation marks. Recommended to readers interested in modern day retellings of mythology.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 320 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: NetGalley
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Book Review: Rouge by Mona Awad
When Belle’s semi-estranged mother dies falling off a cliff in California, she comes from Montreal for the funeral and soon finds herself sucked into the same “spa” her mother was frequenting before her death.
Summary:
For as long as she can remember, Belle has been insidiously obsessed with her skin and skincare videos. When her estranged mother Noelle mysteriously dies, Belle finds herself back in Southern California, dealing with her mother’s considerable debts and grappling with lingering questions about her death. The stakes escalate when a strange woman in red appears at the funeral, offering a tantalizing clue about her mother’s demise, followed by a cryptic video about a transformative spa experience. With the help of a pair of red shoes, Belle is lured into the barbed embrace of La Maison de Méduse, the same lavish, culty spa to which her mother was devoted. There, Belle discovers the frightening secret behind her (and her mother’s) obsession with the mirror—and the great shimmering depths (and demons) that lurk on the other side of the glass.
Review:
Imagine a woman gets pulled into the world of Eyes Wide Shut, only there’s a lot less clarity about what exactly is going on.
The first 10% of the book and the last 25% had me very interested. The middle felt a little repetitive and slow. On the plus side, this book put me to sleep so easily. I can’t remember the last time I fell asleep so quickly when reading. Maybe not a huge positive to say about a horror book, but something about the language and the setting lulled me right to sleep. I only started to be able to make progress when I began to skim. I think the lengthy descriptions of the skin care routine just wasn’t particularly interesting to me as someone who simply doesn’t do skincare.
The main character is half Egyptian, half white. Her Egyptian father died so she lives with her white mother. A lot of the book is about the conflicts that arise for her as a woman of color with a white mother. I liked how the book illuminated the mistakes Belle’s mother made as a white woman raising an Egyptian daughter while also showing how she still loved her daughter and was trying. It’s a delicate balance to strike, and it was well done. She is also bisexual. This is established by her dating two siblings, which wasn’t my favorite way of revealing that. It’s a little too close to the bisexual as cheater trope.
What exactly was going on at the spa and how it ties back to Belle’s childhood remains a little confusing to me, even after reading the ending. I think I understand it. But I suppose what confuses me the most (minor spoiler) is how this society could target people from the other side of the continent many years in advance, and what made them target those specific people. That was a bit fuzzy to me. (Read more about what others thought about the confusing bits here. Be warned – there’s a lot of spoilers in that link!) I also agree with others who say the romance subplot wasn’t needed. I would have been quite happy with full focus on Belle and her mother.
I really enjoyed the way the sentences were put together, even if I thought the story overall could have been tightened. The story itself is interesting, although definitely drawing inspiration from others that I felt were creepier and with a more straight-forward big bad.
Recommended to those willing to dive into scenes of a character’s skin-care routine and atmospherically vague reveals that let you choose what you think happened. I am certain these readers are out there, and I hope they find this book. It feels almost like a love letter to that audience.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 384 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: Good Girls Don’t Die by Christina Henry
Three different women find themselves living out scenarios that seem weirdly like the plots of popular books – only real people start being murdered.
Summary:
Celia wakes up in a house that’s supposed to be hers. There’s a little girl who claims to be her daughter and a man who claims to be her husband, but Celia knows this family—and this life—is not hers…
Allie is supposed to be on a fun weekend trip—but then her friend’s boyfriend unexpectedly invites the group to a remote cabin in the woods. No one else believes Allie, but she is sure that something about this trip is very, very wrong…
Maggie just wants to be home with her daughter, but she’s in a dangerous situation and she doesn’t know who put her there or why. She’ll have to fight with everything she has to survive…
Three women. Three stories. Only one way out. This captivating novel will keep readers guessing until the very end.
Review:
I loved the idea for this book. Waking up and finding yourself living in the plot of your favorite type of story but then it turns all too real and sinister? Amazing! But the execution of the idea didn’t work out for me.
Each of the three women’s plots shows a real understanding of each genre they’re representing – cozy mystery, horror, and YA dystopia. There is some diversity in the book, although it doesn’t show up until the third scenario. Celia is white, and the cozy mystery town she’s in seems to be entirely other white people. Allie is white and so are the other four college students she goes to the cabin with. Maggie is Latina, and she allies herself with a Black woman. It does make sense for the cozy mystery town to be lacking in diversity, especially if Celia had commented on it. This also would have allowed for some meta commenting on lack of diversity in cozies (although that has been improving in recent years.) Allie’s story felt the most cookie-cutter to me – right down to Allie having large breasts and hating them because men like them. There is such a surge of interest right now in Black horror and Indigenous horror stories, that this would have been a wonderful opportunity to explore that genre and bring some more diversity into the overall story.
Although the cover promised twists and surprises, I wasn’t surprised once by the plot in the book. I knew exactly where it was going from the first chapter. The only thing I didn’t know was how it was going to wrap everything up and, honestly, the ending was the most disappointing part of the book to me. While I’m sure some readers will enjoy it and find it cathartic, I found it to be too simple and little heavy-handed. (Speaking of heavy-handed, while I’m totally fine with a book having a message and even characters speaking that message out loud, the same message happens multiple times in this book in a way that I found to be a bit much.)
As someone who works in addiction and recovery, I found the depiction of a character’s ex who is addicted to cocaine to be very two-dimensional and insensitive to those who struggle with addiction. It is of course very difficult to be the family member of someone who struggles with addiction. But even a passing mention of “I know not everyone who uses cocaine ends up abusing their wife” or “I wish he would get clean so his daughter could know the real him” or “drugs didn’t make him an asshole – he just was one all along” would have been nice.
In a nutshell, this was an absolutely wonderful idea for a book with engagingly written scenes. But it fell apart for me in the overarching plot. Also, given the overall messaging of the book, it was a bit glaring that it didn’t have a more diverse set of three stories within the story. Recommended for genre readers who like the idea of seeing someone forced to live out a genre plot.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 320 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: Maame by Jessica George
When Maddie’s mother returns from Ghana to London, she encourages her to take a break from caregiving for her father with Parkinson’s by moving out. She does, but things don’t go according to plan.
Summary:
It’s fair to say that Maddie’s life in London is far from rewarding. With a mother who spends most of her time in Ghana (yet still somehow manages to be overbearing), Maddie is the primary caretaker for her father, who suffers from advanced stage Parkinson’s. At work, her boss is a nightmare and Maddie is tired of always being the only Black person in every meeting.
When her mum returns from her latest trip to Ghana, Maddie leaps at the chance to get out of the family home and finally start living. A self-acknowledged late bloomer, she’s ready to experience some important “firsts”: She finds a flat share, says yes to after-work drinks, pushes for more recognition in her career, and throws herself into the bewildering world of internet dating. But it’s not long before tragedy strikes, forcing Maddie to face the true nature of her unconventional family, and the perils—and rewards—of putting her heart on the line.
Review:
I picked this book up because I heard it compared to Bridget Jones’s Diary (one of my all-time favorite reads). While I don’t think that comparison is fair, I did enjoy Maddie’s much more raw story.
The comparison seems to largely exist because Maddie is a woman in London navigating her life. But, unlike Bridget Jones, which is a romcom, this is a story largely about grief, mental health, and navigating work, dating, and roommates as a Black woman.
Be warned this is a slight spoiler but important to discussing this book. The tragedy is that Maddie’s father dies from Parkinson’s complications shortly after she moves out. The book largely explores grief, and how Maddie moves through it as a twenty-something who was the primary caregiver for her father for years. As someone who also lost my father in my twenties, I found the explorations of her grief to be raw and beautiful. I read this as an audiobook, so I can’t find the exact quote, but at one point someone says that we can’t ever really understand someone else’s grief even when we’ve been through it ourselves because it’s a unique experience for each person. How true that is.
The book also explores the specific struggles Maddie faces as a Black woman. Some of these it does directly, such as how Maddie feels as the only Black woman in her workplace. But others are seen just in passing. Maddie doesn’t linger on them (this is narrated in first person) but it’s still impactful to the reader. For example, Maddie moves in with two white roommates. One of them touches her hair when it’s half-done on wash day. The other roommate immediately scolds her and tells her to never touch a Black woman’s hair without asking. The first roommate pushes back that it’s ok because they’re roommates. Maddie doesn’t say anything, but we see how she then proceeds to finish her wash day in such a way that the reader knows she’s not enjoying it anymore like she was.
Something I wasn’t expecting in this book was the three sex scenes. They’re not written in a particularly spicy manner. But they are detailed. Closed door is a personal preference to me, and I think we could have still understood the emotional impact of the sex scenes without seeing them fully. I also think two of the three are clearly not written for reader enjoyment (because Maddie herself doesn’t enjoy them), so I’m not sure what benefit there is to having them there for the reader either. Some readers may feel that one of these scenes veers in SA, in spite of the fact that Maddie herself doesn’t feel that way. I’m happy to go into more details in the comments if a reader needs to know before reading.
One thing that surprised me in a good way in this book was how Maddie’s relationship with her mother evolves over the course of the book. I was honestly expecting the relationship to fall apart. Instead, they both work to better understand and relate to each other. That was very nice to see. I also like that her mother is religious, and Maddie never mocks her mother for this. Maddie herself goes to church sometimes, even when she struggles to know exactly how she feels about her faith. It’s not the focus of the book but it’s a part of who she is, and I like that the characters are allowed to have that in a mainstream book.
Overall, this is an emotional read featuring some heavy topics. While it’s not a twenty-something romcom, it is a realistic depiction of what life can be like in your twenties for many women around the world. Recommended for readers looking to get a bit deeper in their reading, as well as those looking for own voices representation. The audiobook format is particularly well narrated.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 320 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: How to Say Babylon: A Memoir by Safiya Sinclair
A poet recalls her childhood growing up as a minoritized Rastafarian in Jamaica with an abusive father.
Summary:
Throughout her childhood, Safiya Sinclair’s father, a volatile reggae musician and militant adherent to a strict sect of Rastafari, became obsessed with her purity, in particular, with the threat of what Rastas call Babylon, the immoral and corrupting influences of the Western world outside their home. He worried that womanhood would make Safiya and her sisters morally weak and impure, and believed a woman’s highest virtue was her obedience.
In an effort to keep Babylon outside the gate, he forbade almost everything. In place of pants, the women in her family were made to wear long skirts and dresses to cover their arms and legs, head wraps to cover their hair, no make-up, no jewelry, no opinions, no friends. Safiya’s mother, while loyal to her father, nonetheless gave Safiya and her siblings the gift of books, including poetry, to which Safiya latched on for dear life. And as Safiya watched her mother struggle voicelessly for years under housework and the rigidity of her father’s beliefs, she increasingly used her education as a sharp tool with which to find her voice and break free. Inevitably, with her rebellion comes clashes with her father, whose rage and paranoia explodes in increasing violence. As Safiya’s voice grows, lyrically and poetically, a collision course is set between them.
Review:
I picked this memoir up because I was interested in learning more about Rastafarianism. I was a religious studies minor in university, but Rastafarianism wasn’t something we’d touched on. The beginning of this book really delivered on educating me about the faith.
The memoir starts with a little introduction to Rastafarianism along with a brief history of Safiya’s father’s childhood and her mother’s childhood and what led each of them to convert to Rastafarianism. The religion sprang up in the 1930s as a faith of the most oppressed peoples in Jamaica. There is some disagreement as to whether Rastafarianism is a sect of Christianity or a separate faith entirely. Most Rastas believe that the Ethiopian Emperor Ras Tafari was the second coming of Christ. (In spite of him directly telling Rastas when he visited Jamaica that he was not Christ. Rastas felt that’s something Christ would say.) Just as with all faiths, there is a spectrum of beliefs and observances among Rastas. But there are three that are common.
First that the hair should not be cut, instead left in its natural state, leading them to dreadlocking it. Second, reggae as spiritual music. Third, smoking marijuana for spiritual experiences. Many Rastas are vegetarian, some are strict vegans. (Read more.) Something I found really beautiful was how Rastas adjust their speech, specifically how they will say “the I-and-I” as a reminder that God is indwelling in them. Safiya’s father will sometimes say “the I-man” to clarify when it was something limited to just him, and not him and God. The only thing I knew about Rastafarianism before I read this book was that it was common in Jamaica, so I learned a lot in an easy, beautiful way. The author didn’t just rely on her own childhood understanding of the faith but also interviewed Rasta elders and did some additional reading for the book. And it shows. To me, this was the strongest part of the book.
I thought when I picked this up it was a memoir of religion, but I think after reading it would be more accurate to say it was a memoir about an abusive father/daughter relationship that was at least a bit entwined with religion. So the focus was the abuse, not the religion. But it was necessary to understand the religion in order to understand some of where her father was coming from. Safiya’s father was on the more conservative end of the spectrum with regards to Rastafarianism. (He was also a reggae musician who kept running up against bad luck.) The family were strict vegans. He was more patriarchal and quite concerned about keeping his daughters safe from “Babylon” (the outside influence and dangers) in a way he wasn’t so much about his son.
But there are things that surprised me given the clear conservative lean of the family. The children all go to school. The daughters are encouraged to excel just as much as the son is. (The author even gets into an elite private school on scholarship, something that makes her parents very proud.) The children are allowed to continue living at home, even when they do things that go against the Rastafarian way. For example, the author models and cuts off her dreadlocks. I also was surprised to learn that Rastas were treated poorly in Jamaica while the author was growing up. She’s ridiculed due to being Rasta, and it wasn’t possible for her to pass as no one else seemed to have dreadlocks.
The abuse, though, is quite brutal. I was expecting from the book’s description emotional/spiritual abuse. Those do exist. But serious physical abuse does as well. One chapter titled “The Red Belt” made my chest ache to read. Any reader going into the book should be aware of this. I think some readers will relate to how Safiya deals with her father, and others will struggle to understand it.
The author is primarily a poet. Her work in poetry is what helped her achieve her goal of emigrating from Jamaica. Her poetic skills are evident in this book. I’m sure a reader who loves poetry will connect with this more than I did. I struggle to connect with poetry and so, even though I saw the beauty in the words, I struggled for them to move me. Similarly, while I always love to hear people talk about what they love doing, I didn’t connect with the author’s connection to poetry the way I would if I loved it similarly.
Overall, this is a book that will mean a lot to a reader who loves poetry and is able to read passages about physical and emotional abuse. Readers who like to root for someone to pivot into a life entirely different from how they grew up.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 352 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: The Burnout by Sophie Kinsella
Sasha’s GP prescribed three weeks off for her burnout leads her to return to the seaside resort she loved as a child in the off-season.
Summary:
Sasha has had it. She cannot bring herself to respond to another inane, “urgent” (but obviously not at all urgent) email or participate in the corporate employee joyfulness program. She hasn’t seen her friends in months. Sex? Seems like a lot of effort. Even cooking dinner takes far too much planning. Sasha has hit a wall.
Armed with good intentions to drink kale smoothies, try yoga, and find peace, she heads to the seaside resort she loved as a child. But it’s the off season, the hotel is in a dilapidated shambles, and she has to share the beach with the only other a grumpy guy named Finn, who seems as stressed as Sasha. How can she commune with nature when he’s sitting on her favorite rock, watching her? Nor can they agree on how best to alleviate their burnout ( manifesting, wild swimming; drinking whisky, getting pizza delivered to the beach).
When curious messages, seemingly addressed to Sasha and Finn, begin to appear on the beach, the two are forced to talk—about everything. How did they get so burned out? Can either of them remember something they used to love? (Answer: surfing!) And the question they try and fail to ignore: what does the energy between them—flaring even in the face of their bone-deep exhaustion—signify?
Review:
I love Sophie Kinsella’s romcoms and have read most of them (haven’t made it through the whole Shopaholic series yet). So when I saw she had a new book coming out this summer, I put it on my holds list at the library. This was a witty one with more surfing than I would have expected for a British book.
As usual for me in a Kinsella book, I was pulled in right away by the description of one of Sasha’s average days with her looming burnout. Her actual burnout breakdown scene was hysterical, but I must admit I was drawn a bit out of the world when I saw everyone’s reaction to it. She sees her GP who says she needs three weeks off of work, and he workplace just gives it. I know logically that the UK has a better work culture than here in the US, but seeing it spelled out like that was a bit jarring. I have suffered from burnout myself in the past, and there was no nice GP telling work “oh, she needs three weeks off” with work just saying “okedoke!” So the, there’s no other way to say it, jealousy, about Sasha’s culture’s way of handling her burnout kind of dampened the lightheartedness of the book for me. It’s like how sometimes people joke Breaking Bad could only happen in the US because of our healthcare system. Only it’s not actually a joke.
The setting at the seaside resort that’s kind of falling apart and poorly run was delightful. Each character was well-written, even minor ones. I especially enjoyed the Gen Z concierge who embroiders her side-business while at the desk and who reminded me of a particular Gen Z-er I know in real life. Sasha’s mother pretending to be her PA and calling in silly requests to help her meet the demands of a self-help app she installed on Sasha’s phone was hysterical, and the perfect set-up for the miscommunication trope between Sasha and the love interest, Finn. It’s easy to see how Finn dislikes Sasha at first, because she’s so bad at asking for what she actually wants that she lets herself look like a semi-demanding health nut.
The mystery at the seaside wasn’t too hard to solve, but it was just the right amount of mystery for Sasha and Finn to work on together. It gave them something to do and the book a nice subplot without detracting from either the romance or the will Sasha sort out her life plots going on.
One thing that I didn’t like is that Sasha of course makes a mistake. That’s fine. She eventually needs to own up about this to Finn. But she only discusses the issue that bubbled up as a result of it. She doesn’t confess to what she did. That soured the relationship for me, because I really felt she should have confessed fully. I love a good solid confession in a romance novel, where the other character forgives easily and it ends up not being the big deal the other character worried it would. This book had the set-up for that but then not the full follow-through. Other readers might feel differently and think Sasha has nothing she needs to confess, though.
Overall, this was an enjoyable romcom with a fun setting that was a light-hearted read.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 416 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: The Cuban Heiress by Chanel Cleeton
Two women aren’t exactly what they appear to be on a cruise from NYC to Cuba in 1936.
Summary:
In 1934, a luxury cruise becomes a fight for survival as two women’s pasts collide on a round-trip voyage from New York to Havana in New York Times bestselling author Chanel Cleeton’s page-turning new novel inspired by the true story of the SS Morro Castle.
New York heiress Catherine Dohan seemingly has it all. There’s only one problem. It’s a lie. As soon as the Morro Castle leaves port, Catherine’s past returns with a vengeance and threatens her life. Joining forces with a charismatic jewel thief, Catherine must discover who wants her dead—and why.
Elena Palacio is a dead woman. Or so everyone thinks. After a devastating betrayal left her penniless and on the run, Elena’s journey on the Morro Castle is her last hope. Steeped in secrecy and a burning desire for revenge, her return to Havana is a chance to right the wrong that has been done to her—and her prey is on the ship.
As danger swirls aboard the Morro Castle and their fates intertwine, Elena and Catherine must risk everything to see justice served once and for all.
Review:
A delightful and unique mystery set in 1936 against the backdrop of the actual SS Morro Castle whose last cruise ended in tragedy.
The mystery is told in alternating pov’s of Catherine and Elena. I liked both women, and so enjoyed both pov’s. Elena is Cuban, and Catherine (“Katie”) is Irish-American. We know right from the beginning that Catherine isn’t the heiress she’s pretending to be, and that the world thinks Elena is dead when she really isn’t. What we don’t know is precisely why. Catherine seems at first to be running some sort of scam, and she’s an engaging and likeable scam artist. Elena is more of the strong and silent type, and it at first seems like she might be working on something tied to smuggling from Cuba. But it is clear that whatever she is doing has some non-self-centered motivation. Both characters are well-done and each get their own romances, although Catherine’s is much more fleshed-out. (This is a closed door romance.)
The time period is reflected in the settings and dialogue without overshadowing the main mystery. The mystery itself is really only a mystery because key pieces of information are withheld from the reader. That’s my least favorite type of mystery, so I was a bit annoyed by that. Since the boat is only docked for one day in Havana, we don’t get to see much of Cuba, and I would have liked to have seen more. Perhaps in a flashback, since Elena is originally from Cuba.
Overall, this is an enjoyable historic mystery with a dash of romance in a luxury setting of a 1936 cruise ship that still manages to make both of its main characters relatable and likeable. Recommended for those who like historic mysteries and romance.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 336 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
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Book Review: Swamp Story by Dave Barry
One scheme to lure tourists to a failing Everglades store crosses paths with another one to pitch a reality tv show in this humorous mystery.
Summary:
Jesse Braddock is trapped in a tiny cabin deep in the Everglades with her infant daughter and her ex-boyfriend, a wannabe reality TV star who turned out to be a lot prettier on the outside than on the inside. Broke and desperate for a way out, Jesse stumbles across a long-lost treasure, which could solve all her problems—if she can figure out how to keep it. The problem is, some very bad men are also looking for the treasure, and they know Jesse has it.
Meanwhile, Ken Bortle of Bortle Brothers Bait and Beer has hatched a scheme to lure tourists to his failing store by making viral videos of the “Everglades Melon Monster.” The Monster is in fact an unemployed alcoholic newspaperman named Phil wearing a Dora the Explorer costume head. Incredibly, this plan actually works, inspiring a horde of TikTokers to swarm into the swamp in search of the monster at the same time villains are on the hunt for Jesse’s treasure. Amid this mayhem, a presidential hopeful arrives in the Everglades to start his campaign. Needless to say, it does not go as planned. In fact, nothing in this story goes as planned. This is, after all, Florida.
Review:
This was marketed to me as a humorous thriller, but humorous mystery is more accurate. There is absolutely a mystery – primarily who is going to get the gold – but I wouldn’t call it a thrilling, edge-of-seat read.
I love visiting Miami and the Everglades, and I’m happy to read books set there. The Everglades was particularly well described, as was Coral Gables, a posh neighborhood of Miami. I was interested in where the gold came from and who would ultimately get it. I also liked how many different characters end up merging together in one chaotic scene in the swamp. Building to that scene was a lot of plot work, and the author did it artfully without it ever feeling laborious to the reader.
There is a character who is in active alcohol addiction, and we essentially see his rock bottom followed by his willingness to seek recovery. The recovery he seeks is of the old school variety, but all pathways are valid. Unfortunately, his actual recovery is off-screen. (If you’d like to see on-screen recovery, check out my book, Waiting for Daybreak.) We do, however, get an epilogue to see where all the main characters end up, so we do actually get to see him living a sober life a little bit in the book, which I appreciated.
Something that stuck out to me when reading this book, though, was how few Latine characters there were. None showed up at all until about 40% of the way through the book, and then there was only one throughout the whole book. When I go to Miami, even my flight there from New England has Latine people on it. Latine people are everywhere in Miami, and a large part of what makes Miami feel the way it does is the presence of our Latin-American siblings. I love how there’s Spanish being spoken everywhere and various aspects of Cuban-American culture. Miami is 70.2% Hispanic or Latino (2020 data). So I was quite disappointed to have this book set in Miami and the Everglades with only one Latine character, and even that character was very minor.
With regards to the humor, I understand how other readers would find it funny. I could spot the scenes that other readers would find funny. But they just didn’t tickle my own personal funny bone. If you’re not sure if the humor will be a good match for you, read the first chapter. It’s a good representative of the humor throughout the book.
One other thing I must mention is part of the “thrills” of the book is that the sole female main character (who has a breastfeeding infant) is being followed by two ex-cons who are partially out to rape her. The majority of the danger she is under is of being raped by these two men. I personally prefer for the danger a character is facing in a thriller or a mystery to have nothing to do with sexual assault. While that may be the reality in the real world, I don’t get enjoyment out of that threat looming over the characters of any gender in my reads. (This post from Another Angry Woman does a great job of explaining why we don’t need the threat of sexual assault to understand a villain is bad.)
Overall, this is a zany and unique plot that depicts southern Florida’s natural settings quite well, although it misses the mark with depicting Florida’s human diversity. Readers should check out the first chapter to see if the humor is a match for them.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 320 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: NetGalley
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Book Review: The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty
The book that came before the classic horror movie featuring a little girl who may or may not be possessed by a demon and the priest struggling with his faith called upon to help her.
Summary:
Actress and divorced mother Chris MacNeil starts to experience ‘difficulties’ with her usually sweet-natured eleven-year-old daughter Regan. The child becomes afflicted by spasms, convulsions and unsettling amnesiac episodes; these abruptly worsen into violent fits of appalling foul-mouthed curses, accompanied by physical mutation. Medical science is baffled by Regan’s plight and, in her increasing despair, Chris turns to troubled priest and psychiatrist Damien Karras, who immediately recognises something profoundly malevolent in Regan’s distorted fetures and speech. On Karras’s recommendation, the Church summons Father Merrin, a specialist in the exorcism of demons . . .
Review:
I’d seen the classic horror movie and, while I thought certain shots were gorgeous and the soundtrack was beautiful, I felt rather ho-hum about the story overall. Imagine my surprise when I found the book version simultaneously thrilling and intellectually engaging. A difference even more interesting since Blatty wrote both. (It’s more common for a different author to write the screenplay adaptation of a book.)
From the beginning of the book, there are three story threads. First there’s Chris, the divorced, wealthy, actress mother who is an atheist and her daughter who starts acting funny. Second, there’s Father Karras, a psychiatrist and a priest who is having a crisis of faith. Third, there are recent desecrations in a local church that a detective is investigating. These three threads merge by the end of the book. But their separate developments kept me simultaneously intellectually engaged and thrilled.
While there absolutely is the thrilling aspect of what is wrong with Regan and can she be healed/saved from it, I was drawn in by the exploration of faith. How it presents in different people, even those we assume must have a very strong faith or none at all. What it means to have faith. How having faith impacts people. How evil forces can use someone’s doubts and misunderstandings against them. (This part of the book reminded me of a more subtle version of The Screwtape Letters.)
I really felt both for Father Karras and for Regan. For the former, I understood how adult life had slowly worn down his youthful faith. How it was easier for him to believe in things when he was young than it was now in middle-age. And I also felt for Regan, whose mother left her completely unequipped to protect herself against forces of darkness. The fact that her mother forbid the nanny to mention God to her but also simultaneously allowed her to play with a Ouija board. If she’s so atheist as to not want a child to even know the concept of God, shouldn’t she also ban all religious items, including ones used for witchcraft, from her home? I don’t view this as a writing flaw but rather an accurate assessment of how often atheism attacks the concept of God but not of other supernatural forces. Indeed, I think demonstrating this was probably a part of the point.
The book does a good job of leaving it up to the reader to decide if Regan was actually possessed by a demon or having a psychosomatic experience in response to the trauma from her parents’ divorce. I’m sure you can tell from my review that I fall on the she was possessed side. You can see from the book how much more traumatic the 1970s viewed divorce for children than we do now. The 1970s brought no-fault divorce, and so the divorce rate went up, but there was still social stigma. So even though for the modern reader a simple, relatively amicable divorce with a bit of an absent father is nowhere near enough trauma for a child to have a psychotic break, for the audience in the 1970s with the stigma still fresh, it was. And the scientific side of why they think this might be is well-explained. It’s just to me it’s very clear this is a demon.
My experience of the book being about faith matches what Blatty said in interviews in his life. It’s interesting how that has been overshadowed by the cultural experience of the movie as a horror classic. Perhaps the book can be both. Indeed, theological horror is a genre.
The reason it’s not a full five stars for me is I felt like the last third of the book wasn’t as strong as the first two-thirds.
Let me leave you with my favorite quote from the book.
I think the demon’s target is not the possessed; it is us … the observers … every person in this house. And I think—I think the point is to make us despair; to reject our own humanity, Damien: to see ourselves as ultimately bestial, vile and putrescent; without dignity; ugly; unworthy. And there lies the heart of it, perhaps: in unworthiness. For I think belief in God is not a matter of reason at all; I think it finally is a matter of love: of accepting the possibility that God could ever love us.
page 345
Overall, this is a complex book of theological horror. It keeps the plot moving forward with multiple threads and compelling scenes while also taking the time to contemplate big questions about faith. Well worth the read, even if you have seen the movie, as it is a different experience altogether.
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4 out of 5 stars
Length: 403 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: Library
Buy It (Amazon or Bookshop.org)
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Opinions of a Wolf 
Book Review: Looking Glass Sound by Catriona Ward
Just how much can real life -your own and others’ – inspire your fiction?
Summary:
In a lonely cottage overlooking the windswept Maine coast, Wilder Harlow begins the last book he will ever write. It is the story of his childhood summer companions and the killer that stalked the small New England town. Of the body they found, and the horror of that discovery echoing down the decades. And of Sky, Wilder’s one-time best friend, who stole his unfinished memoir and turned it into a lurid bestselling novel, Looking Glass Sound.
But as Wilder writes, the lines between memory and fiction blur. He fears he’s losing his grip on reality when he finds notes hidden around the cottage written in Sky’s signature green ink.
Catriona Ward delivers another mind-bending and cleverly crafted tale about one man’s struggle to come to terms with the terrors of his past… before it’s too late.
Review:
Based on my previous experience reading a Catriona Ward book, I came into this knowing as little as possible. I was concerned knowing too much would ruin the experience. Unlike her previous books, though, I think knowing something about what it’s about will actually help this book find the right audience. So let me tell you.
This book uses magical realism to explore how writers pull elements of the real world into their “fictional” stories. It explores just how acceptable that is. It also looks at how much a writer ends up living inside their own stories. All of this is wrapped up in a mystery story.
Here’s the thing. A lot of readers might go into this book expecting a mystery about a killer in a New England town with a shocking twist. That is not the trajectory of this book. It’s a very meta book about writing. It’s a book inside another book inside another book. It’s a little difficult to untwist and figure out what’s really going on and what’s fiction in this world.
I really respect the amount of work and plot development that went into this. The author had to write in multiple different styles as convincingly different authors. (Although I preferred The Villa by Rachel Hawkins for how it did a book inside another book – my review.) The meta commentary on writing is a literary exploration in navel-gazing that a lot of readers might enjoy. Except those who wanted the New England beach killer story with a twist. So this book might be struggling a bit to find its audience.
One thing that did bother me that should have been caught in editing is that these New England characters sometimes speak with a British affect. (There is one British character who, of course, should speak like a Brit.) I don’t mean they’re written with an accent but rather they sometimes say words or speak in a certain manner that I’ve only ever heard British people speak. (I was born in New England and have lived here all my life…so I know how we talk.)
The mystery was kind of mysterious but also not really the point of the book. The resolution left me scratching my head a bit, largely because of the magical realism aspects. I also felt like the message was a little garbled and unclear. It was a little bit of a letdown after the time investment, although I did appreciate it for its craft and structure.
Recommended to readers interested in a magical realism commentary on the writing process.
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3 out of 5 stars
Length: 342 pages – average but on the longer side
Source: NetGalley
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