Review: The Vanishing Half

3 stars. What can I say about this that hasn't already been said, more eloquently than I ever could? The Vanishing Half is another must-read from this author, a compelling study of race, family, and identity. Twins Stella and Desiree were born in a small town meant for light-skinned black people, and both of them carry this with them through their upbringing, adolescence, and eventual adulthood, veering in opposite directions until separate from each other, forging different lives. Their daughters, born into different worlds, bounce around each other through happenstance, tightening the tapestry's weave until a full and colorful picture emerges. It's thought-provoking, beautiful, and interesting.

I love Brit Bennett's writing. She takes these huge, thorny themes and writes about them with such ease. The Vanishing Half is so smooth, so flowy, it's almost a trick. I really rooted for her true and distinct characters, occasionally insufferable in understandable ways, as we all are. The way she writes about place, too, felt absolutely crucial to the story's success, from sunny L.A. to cold New York to the small town vibes in Mallard, Louisiana. These details and others, like the glimpses into drag shows and musical theater and medical school, make the snapshots of each arc even more vivid and bright.

Books like this are truly humbling and important. It's probable that I'm deeply underread, but I don't think I've encountered a book that so clearly and plainly explores the ties between race and family. Bennett is certainly not the first - and there were times I honestly felt like The Vanishing Half was a little referential - but that's where she stuck the pin for this one, and it really worked. I have my own thoughts about blood ties, kin, family, however you want to say it, but there's no doubt it does shape your identity, stamping you visibly or invisibly in ways that will never wear off.

So, why 3 stars? I loved the subject matter, the plot, the characters, the ending, the writing style ... but for me, it really came down to my personal reading experience. I dragged my heels a bit, losing interest halfway through. Bennett also tip-toes around using a device she used in The Mothers, writing as a sort of collective voice on behalf of a small town. That sort of thing is not for me, as a preference. I want to be clear though that I'm RECOMMENDING THIS, because it is masterful and worth studying and worth considering long after you finish it.

The Vanishing Half on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Plain Bad Heroines

3 stars. Inn-turr-ess-tinggg. I'm thrown. I didn't hate this, don't worry, but something about it was, well, excruciatingly annoying to me. Between the quirky footnotes, the flashbacks, the lack of horror, the sheer wordiness of it all... plus, character access felt shallow; toe-deep, and the viewfinder felt off-kilter, like we could only see one corner of the full picture, or we could only look at it sideways.

The whole thing just didn't come together in the right way, for me. And it's very possible that it all just went over my head, too.

Story 1: Present. Three young women, two actresses and an author, are brought together to make a movie about Story 2.

Story 2: Early 1900s. Three young women die under mysterious circumstances (two stung by a swarm of yellow jackets; one ate poisonous flowers) at a school for girls in Rhode Island, and the principal must deal with the aftermath.

Our questions: did something sinister lead to their deaths? Why do strange and unusual things still happen on the school's land? How will they make a movie about its hauntings, despite its hauntings? And WTF does Mary MacLane have to do with it, other than connecting all the main characters and being kind of an original badass herself?

And also, in addition to being about all that, it's about women in love with each other and the many different colors of being queer. Which is wonderful.

But back to that sideways viewfinder. Maybe it was sideways, maybe it was foggy. I just couldn’t bring it into focus. I just couldn’t figure out what I was looking at. Carefully built momentum took me nowhere. Deep dives seemed pointless. The author led us down rabbit holes that didn't seem relevant or resolved. It's full of excellent moments, for sure, but the connective tissue just wasn't strong enough, for me. I hate to say it, because this mood board has almost everything I love on it - it's just, when I step back and look at it as a whole, it's a mess.

And back to that shallow character access. Especially in Story 1, I never really got to know the three girls. For real, deep down. The narrator (anonymous? Did I miss something?) tells - it's very tell-y - a lot about their actions and thoughts but they somehow still seemed so ... flat.

Finally, though this is marketed as horror, it doesn't really hit in a scary way. There are creepy moments, and a lot of meta-exposition on the academia of horror (which I admittedly loved), but no true frightening moments. I couldn't even really tell if the stakes were that high, honestly. And the climax proved, unfortunately, that they weren't, canceling any delicious dread I felt as the mystery unfolded.

So there it is. No regrets, truthfully, because I was absolutely picking up what it was putting down about queerness and queer history and I loved the gothic tropes and the themes. And I can't rate this any lower because it is truly impressive and ambitious and like I said above, it's possible it just went right over my head. I would LOVE for someone to convince me what I missed and what it’s all about and why I should LOVE it. But here we are. Thanks for listening, anyway.

Plain Bad Heroines on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Sea Queen (The Golden Wolf Saga #2)

5 stars. A very worthy sequel / trilogy bridge that took me for.ever. to read because ... well, everything. But I didn't give up and I'm so, so incredibly glad for that. This type of writing - the language of this story - is so unique and crunchy I think I'll miss it and return in the future. I mentioned this in my review of the first book, but there is true escapism here, even if it offers escape into a super brutal, ugly world full of pain and death and bloodshed.

In The Sea Queen we continue to watch the rise of Harald Fairhair, conqueror of Norway, through the eyes of his capable sworn warrior Ragnvald and his headstrong sister Svanhild. The quest for a unified land is complicated, however, by growing political and martial threats, throwing confusion and pressure onto seemingly strong alliances. It's a story both vast and vastly personal that offers a unique and emotional window into a very interesting, and very treacherous, time in Scandinavian history.

What makes this series so refreshing:

- Characters second guess themselves and change their minds all the time based on shifting circumstances and revelations. This makes their actions much more believable and grounded.

- The interconnected webs of romance and sex. This story has positive depictions of non-monogamy all over the place; women who experience desire and are direct about it; men and women who circle around each other and recognize that lust comes and goes. The different types of lust, even. Lust as power and lust as comfort and lust as distraction. The phases.

“It was pleasant, to be desired by this beautiful giant, and when they tired of each other, she would have wealth, and every freedom except taking another man to her bed.”

I don't know much about what social sex was like during Viking times, but I know a little about human nature, and this stuff (especially the stuff from Svanhild’s perspective) rang true to me - told so directly and matter-of-factly because the author's setting allows it (especially compared to, say, a contemporary setting). This isn't a romance, don't worry, even though in an interview the author expressed her interest in exploring different types of long term relationships. It's just strange sometimes what aspects of a book stand out even when it's truly not the point of the book at all.

- Impressive details, but not too many details. Irish whiskey makes an appearance, as a little treat, but it is not the point of the scene nor is it there to prove the author's ability to research and write with accuracy. The accuracy is apparent in her storytelling, not her info dumping or lack thereof.

- A badass, fierce, believable female action hero.

I believe I mentioned this in my review of The Half-Drowned King, but I think it's worth saying again that the comp titles here are a bit off. This is an epic trilogy of historical fiction but it is NOT ASOIAF, nor is it the Outlander books, nor would it be for fans of action-packed military fantasies, though I love those myself. This is for readers interested in something deeper and warmer and slower, something super immersive and thorough and focused on the intimacy and dialogue of politics. It's totally its own thing, and for that reason these stories will live in a special place in my heart for years to come.

On to the final chapter (with dread).

The Sea Queen on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Good Lord Bird

4 stars. Wow, this was a lot. In a good way. James McBride is so, so talented and clever and focused in a way I haven't seen in historical fiction recently. I really look forward to reflecting on the story and the characters as they are memorable and interesting and admirable in totally misguided ways.

I hate and love that history is so fickle and yet also the guidebook by which we should move forward. History is muddled and vague and written by the winners and therefore we as a species will never truly learn from it. So we should use tools like contemporary, perspective-shifting books like this to educate us and show us the way.

The Good Lord Bird is about a young boy named Henry, who in 1857 is kidnapped by the infamous abolitionist John Brown after the death of his father. Brown mistakes Henry to be a girl, and Henry rolls with it to survive. He accompanies Brown on many journeys and supports his quest to eradicate slavery in his own way, experiencing several adventures - or misadventures - until Brown's doomed raid on Harper's Ferry ends the journey.

It's a classic "famous story told by the unfamous tagalong" book, this time rightly weighted with a deep emphasis on racism, slavery, and power in pre-Civil War America. How do we fully acknowledge the cruel trauma of our own history? How do we acknowledge that we argued over this undeniable crime? How do we acknowledge the motives and complexities of behavior and pure mistakes exhibited on both sides? How do we acknowledge good intentions when they are wielded by someone wrong for the job? How do we acknowledge that, in this story and many others, there are rarely winners or losers and only survivors or victims?

These questions plus many others are wrapped in this book's witty, enticing narrative. The writing is quick and sharp, laugh-out-loud funny at some moments and truly heart wrenching in others. I hope it is widely read by individuals and in classrooms and book clubs, because this is the type of book that should be taught, examined and discussed at length. Entertaining, impressive, important.

The Good Lord Bird on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Devil All the Time

3 stars. Bleak and brutal and everything I expected it to be. This is true Southern Gothic at its best - and its most violent. I'm actually not sure I'll watch the movie, despite the great cast, because it's not the type of story I'd like to see unfold before my eyes other than through words. Like all excellent Southern literature, the setting is a character - sometimes the antagonist, sometimes the narrator, sometimes a neutral observer, sometimes a driving force behind the events that shape the story. It's difficult to imagine this narrative dropped somewhere - anywhere - else and remaining just as captivating; just as good.

I am from the suburbs of Northern Virginia and therefore cannot possibly fully understand the potency of this novel, but I'm incredibly curious if anyone from a similar area experiences pangs of ... recognition? Gratitude? Horror? while reading this story. I'm personally fascinated by the way place shapes a person, so naturally I want to sink my teeth in from that angle. But there's so much here about people, just people. It's about a young boy and the inevitable, twisted impact of his sick and traumatized parents; a murderous couple desperate to answer the call of their criminal instincts; sad and lonely residents of sad and lonely places just trying to survive in damaged ways. 

There's also a symmetry to this story, against which some readers might chafe, but to me it just seemed like narrative planets circled each other before finally kissing in brief and terrible ways. Sort of like ... life is a pretty but very painful carousel. I'm super impressed with the way Pollock wrote women, as well. He managed to capture some nuances of the female character that many authors couldn't dream of spelling let alone writing down. 

I feel a bit hungover from this, a bit like I'm looking at the world through different colored lenses. Pollock doesn't simply lock the door - he locks you in a room of dirt and tears and blood and makes you sit there, wallowing in it, for hours. It's enough to knock you down and make you think for a bit. But I'm glad to have read it, and I'm glad to have experienced Pollock's strong voice and unique vision. It's not for the faint of heart, but we all need a good slap in the face every once in a while. 

The Devil All the Time on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Half-Drowned King (The Golden Wolf Saga #1)

5 stars. I cannot express how grateful I am for stories like this during times like these. The tale of Harald Fairhair's conquest of Viking-age Norway doesn't exactly have the most delightful, funny, feel-good vibes, but every time I slipped into these pages I felt relieved - a true escape. The Half-Drowned King is Harald's origin story told through the eyes of Ragnvald Eysteinsson, a young and skilled warrior attempting to navigate his coming-of-age, his birthright, his complicated family, his allegiances, and his desire for glory. After a harrowing betrayal and attempt on his life, Ragnvard finds himself caught between kings and fates as war descends on his harsh, beloved homeland. 

I quite admire this book because what happens in it is unusual. Sure, we have the usual suspects - revenge, duels, shield walls - but we also have flawed characters making imperfect decisions on wavering, unclear journeys. Solvi and Svanhild's relationship, for example, twists and turns in ways I can't stop thinking about. Ragnvold makes predictable mistakes and unpredictably learns from them; in fact, every major character has ugly qualities as well as heroic ones. None of it - within Hartsuyker's halting and unique prose - feels cliche, or typical, or traditional. It reads like a softer, fresher version of The Last Kingdom, though I reject comparisons to ASOIAF (hi, a book can have swords and more than one POV and not be Game of Thrones, thanks). 

I also really appreciated the way Hartsuyker has her characters look back at the sagas and stories and songs of their history similar to the way we look back at, for example, the sagas of Viking-age Norway. When one character tells another that her experiences sound like something from "one of the old songs," it's a self-aware nod to the nature of Hartsuyker's story. And while that nature for sure has an epic fairy tale flavor to it, this technique also essentially grounds and humanizes her heroes and kings (and queens) and underscores the fact that legends have their own legends; no "age" is untouched by the "age" before it. Legacy is a driving force for her characters. I quite love it when a book doubles down on the importance of stories. 

It's a complicated one, and reading it requires energy and effort. Figures poke at and orbit around each other in patchy, tricky ways. But it is rewarding, with its subtleties and deft plotting and its understanding of identity and honor. The politics, once they click into place, are not difficult to grasp. It is as oddly romantic as it is brutal, and I would hope to see the characters eased of their burdens in the future books. I've grown to love them, and I dread their fates. Still, I look forward to escaping into this dark and magical world for a bit longer. I think I will dream of icy waves and crackling fires and roasted meat tonight. 

The Half-Drowned King on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Mirror and the Light (Thomas Cromwell Trilogy #3)

5 stars. Although I enjoyed this the least out of all three, I can't give it anything less. It is an impressive conclusion to an impressive colossus of historical fiction that should be widely-read and widely-studied for years to come. Hilary Mantel has taken me on what feels like an actual ... ugh, so cheesy ... but an actual journey. The final few sentences are even more breathtaking and heartbreaking than I expected.

We return smoothly back through the door into England almost immediately after we left. Anne Boleyn has been executed and Henry VIII - more volatile every day - needs a new bride. Talented Thomas Cromwell has risen above his common blood to serve as a noble and maintain stability in the English realm, but despite successes and titles and financial security, his job is not an easy one. It is, in fact, a dangerous one. 

Mantel takes her time. She travels, she leans, she slips and slides, she spirals and circles the drain slowly, slowly, slowly. She spells out the story with her ever-challenging, ever-beautiful prose and serves as a steadfast, if not long-winded, guide. Thomas Cromwell's character is painted with sympathy and care - the question of accuracy isn't even on the table. It's just compelling.

I've written about this in my reviews of the first two books, but I love what she does with images. A star, a leopard, a memory, a jewel ... she breathes life into these things, placing them as signposts or symbols throughout the narrative. The level of detail (and the scope of the political intrigues) would be intimidating, if not for the clarity she offers. I never felt as though she asked too much, even with her nicknames and varying names/titles and flashbacks. That's just life: a confusing, very complicated, sad, every man for himself roller coaster ride with the slight, slippery promise of a satisfying conclusion.

I wish there was more.

The Mirror and the Light on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Bring Up the Bodies (Thomas Cromwell Trilogy #2)

"But remember this above all: defeat your instinct. Your love of glory must conquer your will to survive; or why fight at all? Why not be a smith, a brewer, a wool merchant? Why are you in the contest, if not to win, and if not to win, then to die?"

5 stars. Stunning. A beautiful, driven sequel to Wolf Hall, Bring Up the Bodies picks up where we left off: with England in need of an heir. Anne Boleyn has yet to provide, and Thomas Cromwell is there to juggle the rest. Adept as ever, he observes his king grow tired of his new bride and schemes for what's next. 

Compared to Wolf Hall, there's more movement - more forward momentum. The king's Great Matter took almost a decade, but Cromwell is more confident now, more ruthless, more capable. Things move quickly. And truly, the suspense is breathtaking; considering we all know the end to the story. The legal twists and turns are gorgeous and intense.

I felt the portrayal of Anne Boleyn was a bit flat in the first book, but here she is developed and concrete. A worthy adversary for Cromwell and I'm sad to see her go. This version does paint the Boleyns in an incredibly unflattering light, and I do wonder... I guess we'll never know. History, as always, is written by the winners.

I expected Henry VIII to come across as more childish in this book, past his prime and desperate for his legacy intact. For whatever it's worth, I think Henry believed in his good intentions - always. He was not self-aware enough to see the irony in accusing Anne of bewitching him into a marriage with curses and spells. Sigh. Monarchy. "Chosen by God." Causes problems. SMH.

The prose here is so weird and crazy and wonderful. I again felt like I was there, and came to regard the characters not only as real, but as people I actually know. I wouldn't say I rooted for them, necessarily, but seeing so intimately their intentions and motives and ambitions made me feel for them. I don't know how Mantel manages such unique writing with such diverse, distinguished characters. It's deeply impressive, I practically bask in the afterglow of her writing. 

Can't wait to find out what happens! He lives... right?!

Bring Up the Bodies on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Wolf Hall (Thomas Cromwell Trilogy #1)

5 stars. I feel eaten alive. Wolf Hall is the first in a trilogy about Thomas Cromwell: aide to the king of England during a time of great crisis. England needs an heir. The government needs stability. The Church needs power, and loyalty. The country needs allies, and money. And Henry VIII wants Anne Boleyn. 

Cromwell navigates through it all - the fall of his Cardinal, the squabbling nobles, a mercurial king, two queens - using his sharp mind and deep intellect. It is a spectacular work of historical fiction that's focused not on the sun, but the space around the sun - the objects and empty spaces orbiting and swirling around what appears to be the brightest thing in the sky. What it gives, what it takes, what it feeds and what it burns. 

I've never fallen in love with historical fiction the way I have with this. Every time I picked it up I felt like I was melting into the story, falling down a well, and as cheesy as it sounds, I felt like I was there. It's rich with detail - Mantel knows her shit - but she includes the fun stuff too; the scandalous jokes, the twists and turns, the melodrama, the innuendos, the sex. This is NOT The Other Boleyn Girl, though I respect Gregory's writing a lot too.

I've read a lot ABOUT this book, because it fascinated me so much and I wanted to skirt on the fringes of this world a bit longer. I noticed a couple of common themes and observations among readers, and I'd love a chance to address them and push back a bit. 

First, there seems to be a frequent observation that Mantel writes Thomas Cromwell as cold, calculating, without emotion, ruthless, conniving, manipulative, greedy, power-hungry, and otherwise just generally villainous. While I think it's true that Cromwell was an ambitious and greedy man with a ruthless streak, he used his intellect in ways that were ultimately astonishing. He was complicated, and Mantel writes him as such. I've seen readers question his motives, call him a psychopath, yell at him for "getting over" the loss of his family so quickly, and declare his demise as justified and well-deserved. 

It's an interesting interpretation - to cast him in such a bad light - but I would argue that those readers may have been misled by the dryness of Mantel's prose and her approach to the character. It's not that Cromwell had no emotions, she just didn't write about them, or at least not in the way we're used to.

(I should note that I'm not a fan of Cromwell, I don't sympathize with him and I love that Mantel made him grow to be so arrogant, especially toward the end.)

Second, many readers complain that the prose is boring, dense, challenging, difficult, and the pronoun usage is confusing. Yes - absolutely. The pronoun usage tripped me up a whole bunch. But I didn't mind the density or intensity of the writing, in fact, I rather enjoyed having to sing for my supper. To work so hard was rewarding for my brain. So that's a preference thing, or an English Lit major thing, I don't mind going back to re-read passages, but I wish readers wouldn't complain in such an accusatory way. I was blown away by what Mantel was able to do with certain images and motifs - comparing a face to a thumbnail, what people wear under their clothes, a dog pulling at its own collar...

The thing is, this book is so immersive, so compelling, so detailed and strong in its depiction of a fragile society balancing on the edge of a knife, it felt ... well, familiar. Context is everything. I know this story. We all know this story. And that helps, with the names and the faces and the messy nature of the story. But something about this version of it, or the timing of my reading experience ... I recognize echoes of what happened back then today. Not just the threat of illness or plague, but the sense that the walls are always just on the verge of caving in and we can't really trust anyone but ourselves. The moral struggles - the push and pull of desire and ambition and obligation. And more obviously, the soul-crushing terror of watching a leader fail and a country break. Transfer of power comes to mind...

It's like this: when I think of politics under Henry VIII, I think yeesh, messy. Thank god politics has ... *sits back* ... nope, nevermind, still messy. 

I wonder why we tend to look back on our ancestors and think we are superior - think of them as primitive, dumb, petty; their mistakes and motives and beliefs far removed from us. On the contrary, I think we are still primitive, dumb, petty. Our technology is advanced, we’ve conquered the planet, and we are able to answer so many questions with science, but we still squabble, we still kill each other uselessly, and we are, as always, just as we were then, ego-driven, shallow, motivated by power and greed and questionable beliefs, following distractible leaders surrounded by sycophants. 

When I read a book like this I wonder, should humanity survive the current crisis, what will be written about these times? Who will they write about? Will they look back with contempt and disdain at our misguided communities and think, thank god we’re better? Or will they, like myself, look back and think, we haven’t changed a bit?

"Beneath every history, another history."

Thomas Cromwell has entered the chat.

Wolf Hall on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Ten Thousand Doors of January

3 stars. Charming! The Ten Thousand Doors of January is about a young woman in the early 1900's who lives in a mansion full of strange artifacts. Her father comes and goes on mysterious missions and she is stuck under the charge of a strict but seemingly supportive caretaker. Until one day, she discovers a door. And a book.

A magical and enchanting story weaves itself beautifully as January makes friends, learns about her past, and runs into trouble. Sure, it's about excitement and adventure and facing misfortune, but it's also about a woman finding herself - loving herself - doubling down on her very sense of self - when everyone else fails. 

If this was a straight up professional-ish review, I'd rate it higher - it's a good book. Well-paced, well-written and it hits certain spots that many readers are nostalgic for after HP and Wayward Children and Narnia. I adore portal fantasies and felt the familiar "man I wish I could find my door" feeling. I also couldn't put it down!

But since this is more of a reaction than a review, I'll call it trope-y, and I'm docking a star, as I always do, for a UDD (Unnecessary Dog Death - even if it's a fake one). The writing comes across as quaint to me, maybe a little cute. I also don't believe in True Love, and sometimes this felt like a romance disguising itself as a fantasy. And the plot contains IMO many impossibilities, which may kind of be the point, but I like writing that solves its problems with a little more finesse. 

Anyway, I do really love the energy here. It's quirky, fun and a great debut.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January on: Amazon | Goodreads