Review: Wanderers

3 stars. PHEW - that was a marathon! It was a race against the clock for me to finish this one before it got whisked away back to the library, so I think I'll always sort of associate this with an overwhelming/unreasonable deadline, lol. But I did it! And in this miserable year of our lord 2020, too! An appropriate read, though:

Wanderers begins when a highly advanced computer called Black Swan detects an anomaly in Pennsylvania - a group of individuals who appear to be "sleepwalking" and can't be stopped (if they stop, or are stopped, they explode). Meanwhile, an unfortunate consequence of climate change releases an incurable virus called White Mask, triggering, well, the apocalypse. Following the growing group of "walkers" through a dying America, Wanderers explores questions around human fear, heroism and resilience in varied, unforgettable ways.

I should really work on lowering my expectations when a book is compared to Stephen King. Obviously, this book wouldn't exist without The Stand, but if it's trying to be a NEW The Stand, it fails. Maybe it isn't, maybe it's a love letter or a tribute or a modern spin on the core of the story. But I was disappointed reading Wanderers because it was so loudly hyped as Kingish! Kingly, whatever! M-O-O-N, that spells misplaced praise. Not because Chuck Wendig is bad, but because he isn't Stephen King. No one is.

Beyond that major disconnect, I do have a few other isolated complaints. The villains are too cartoonish, the heroes and heroines too uncomplex. So many of the nuances and intricacies of America's divisions are lost here. Perhaps the messiness of it all wouldn't lend itself to a pretty narrative, but I'm convinced this story could've been told with more depth and understanding.

(That being said, maybe Wendig wasn't going for depth or understanding - maybe he was pursuing a more cathartic, extreme, everything is black-and-white approach, as in, there are no words dedicated to why the villain is a villain - he just is, like Disney's Ursula or something, which I have to admit, is kind of fun. Or maybe Wendig just needed to work a little more on distinct characterization, going deep instead of wide. I dunno. I've heard it's disgustingly difficult to write a book, by the way.)

Also - I know - I get it - I'm aware of why there was a pregnancy subplot. But I'm so over it as a plot device. Shana's whole character in particular felt forced and wide of the mark. And Benji and Sadie had zero chemistry.

ANYWAY. There is a lot here I really did enjoy and appreciate. Wendig plays with religion, racism, love, artificial technology, climate change, family dynamics, parenthood, addiction, aging, depression and mental illness, politics, partisanship and loss of innocence, plus a little commentary on social media (as a treat), all through the lens of what it means to "face the end." I love Big Themes like that. Each character deals with his or her own shit differently, which is nice, and there ARE a couple of delightfully horrific and well-written moments throughout (the chapter "The Life and Death of Jerry Garlin" comes to mind. That's when I really got hooked).

All in all, I'm really glad to have read it. Wanderers helped me process what is ultimately a completely unprocessable year (by triggering an EXISTENTIAL CRISIS AHHH). I enjoyed the little details and the references and the ruminations of my favorite character, Pete Corley. I was amazed by the unpredictable-ness of it all. I'm excited to have the hefty reading experience under my belt. I'm dying to talk about it with everyone!! And I truly, truly admire the way characters spiraled around each other before clashing in PERFECT ways.

For the record, I agree. We lost Prince, we lost Bowie, and the world went to shit. Coincidence? I think not.

Wanderers on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: My Sister, the Serial Killer

4 stars. This is a super clever, witty, ice cold glass of sparkling water for a cold winter's day. With a simple premise - a hard-working, practical nurse helps cover up her beautiful sister's crimes - we are presented with fully baked, semi-satirical ideas about beauty, jealousy, romance, social media and desire. I was really impressed with the storytelling, even if it was a bit predictable, I still deeply appreciated the characterizations and the way things unfolded. The depiction of sisters here - painted in what I would call extremes - felt true.

It's one of those books that about murder, but not really about murder at all. In fact very few words are actually dedicated to the crimes in question; it's more about the main character's approach to it all; the complexity of her bond with her sister; her resentment and anger and insecurities and the strange way her own continued willing involvement is also the heaviest burden she carries. It's difficult not to want what you'd traditionally expect from a story like this (I wanted Ayoola to go down in absolute epic slasher flames ... or maybe even ... a team-up?! Sisters before misters superheroes sort of thing?), but that's part of its charm.

I look forward to more stories like this; ones that subvert traditional frames and narratives that generally dominate the psychological thriller market. Like others have noted, the whole thing is perhaps not as fleshed out as it could have been. Sort of tastes like a light beer, you know what I mean? Or an acoustic cover? IDK. A thoroughly enjoyable reading experience, for sure. I will never not fully support stories about the intense cruelty and love between sisters.

My Sister, the Serial Killer on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

3 stars. I went into this totally blind, except knowing that it's considered a classic and gives off potent Southern Gothic vibes. I vaguely remembered it as a nonfiction book, BUT THEN I started reading it, and 25% of the way in was like ... there's no way this is nonfiction. BUT THEN I looked it up to confirm, and lo and behold, apparently this IS nonfiction. BUT THEN I read on Wikipedia (all hail) that the author did admit - as he eventually does in his afterword - to fabricating some characters and events to make the book read better.

And wow, it worked. This book reads like a smooth, buttery biscuit. Crunchy, sweet, and well-baked with the harsh aftertaste of racism. Gotta love the American South. Midnight is one hundred percent too good to be true, but I wouldn't be surprised if MOST of it did happen - just not in the neat and tidy way the story is written. I've met people who embody certain stereotypes from all over the country, and not one of them fit THAT perfectly into the mold. I'm quite sure the author met these folks and then conveniently turned them into storybook characters, which is neither here nor there.

Anyway, Midnight is a *cough cough* nonfiction novel about that time an established antiques dealer shot and killed his young male lover in his famous historic mansion. The core story itself, which details the crime, the trial and the town's reaction, is surrounded and sandwiched by captivating vignettes about Savannah, Georgia. Every little detail is fascinating from a location perspective and a people perspective, providing an insider view of Savannah's secrets and scandals.

Just a quick note: the events captured in this book happened recently. At times I caught myself assuming it all went down a century or more ago, thanks to some seriously ignorant, racist, sexist, homophobic, intolerant attitudes. But no, my parents were super alive when this happened - in fact, Jim Williams died a year to the day before I was born. While this is astounding but not surprising, it actually makes me hopeful that in like what - thirty, forty years? We'll have progressed even further, even in the South.

Midnight is one part anthropological study, one part courtroom drama, one part portrait of a stubborn city in America. I wouldn't exactly call it true crime, though that may be because I'm used to the graphic true crime content explosion of the last five years. Anyway, it has all the things I love. And the ending - the final few paragraphs - really got me. I'm glad this story was told, and I hope others like it will be told - in words rather than crime scene photos, in whispers rather than shouts.

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Catherine House

5 stars. WOW, UNEXPECTED!! In a great way. Very Vita Nostra, which I INHALED and loved, so I really enjoyed this. I saw Catherine House described as quirky in another review, and I'd agree except I'd maybe say darkly quirky instead. The narrator has a meandering, unpredictable voice that feels like quite a slap to the brain and the plot doesn't really progress in a natural way. Again, very unexpected and unique.

The story is told by our protagonist, Ines, at the beginning of a three year stay at Catherine House, an exclusive and isolated school whose alumni go on to be incredibly successful - rock stars, famous authors, Supreme Court judges, etc. Catherine House has an unusual set of rules and curriculum standards, and Ines, after a rocky start, begins to feel at home in a way she never felt on the outside. She finds herself drawn toward an academic path focused on "new materials" and attempts to investigate while determining her own uncertain future.

The writing here is very beautiful and atmospheric, and to me shone far brighter than the plot or central mystery. That's okay with me, it won't be for other readers. Just like Vita Nostra - pulling from what is probably The Secret History (I see you I feel you *waves* Hi, Bunny) - this book has a campus novel slash dark academia feel to it in all the best ways, with some absolutely brilliant details. Yeah, I'm talking about the meta lessons about the uncanny, and futurism, and surrealism. Yeah, I'm talking about the references to all the rich, sweet food eaten in the Hall. Yeah, I'm talking about the wavy, vague depictions of what it is to be wine-soaked and young in the summertime. These details really impressed me and came across as vivid, important and thoughtful.

Now that I'm writing this, I think I'd call this book a feeling. It's not an answer, or a declaration, or even a narrative in the traditional sense. It's like slipping into a pool or a cloud or a bubble. It feels cold and hot and provokes dread and anticipation and desire with subtle gestures rather than outright action. Reading it is sensational, in a literal sense; unsettling and even disturbing at times, but all in all it is the type of thing I love. Cinematic and beautifully artistic. So, yeah, not for everyone, definitely for me. 

I have a feeling that Elisabeth Thomas and I are about to become good friends. 

Catherine House on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Such a Fun Age

4 stars. Man, we're all just clueless, aren't we? Every last one of us. Apes with phones. We're all complicated creatures who contain multitudes and that makes navigating life successfully, what. Basically impossible? We all try and try and try and we all fail each other. I think that's one of the reasons why, despite the snappy writing and brisk pace, I found reading this to be exhausting. It's too real, too familiar, too headspace-y in a way that rings so true. I get that it was going for Big Little Lies - dishy, juicy, funny - with an undercurrent of skewering criticism on race and class and America - and it gets there. It really does. Painfully. If you’re prone to strong second-hand embarrassment, this book will hurt. My teeth itched with every word. 

Such a Fun Age is told from the perspectives of two women: Emira Tucker, a young Black woman trying to make ends meet in Philadelphia, and Alix Chamberlain, a successful white business owner with two daughters. Emira works for Alix as a babysitter and begins the story feeling directionless and anxious about health insurance. After a racially charged incident in a grocery store, Alix becomes obsessed with Emira - befriending her, helping her, guiding her to success. But when Emira begins dating Alix's ex-boyfriend, things spin out of control and both women's lives are changed forever.

I'm quite certain there's a ton of commentary about this book and why it's so great and so crucial and such a must-read for everyone. I'm sure most of the reviews that focus on race and class and privilege and transactional relationships are much more intelligent and articulate than anything I could cobble together. Instead I'll just list a few components I really enjoyed and leave it at that. 

I loved the juxtaposition of Emira and Alix. Recognizing that's a big part of the point - to place the feelings and thoughts and interests of these women next to each other - I just loved how much they shared and where they differed. Two desperate women, desperate for totally different things. I loved and hated Kelley, who reminded me so deeply of a guy I hooked up with for awhile back in college I almost couldn't read his scenes. I loved that when a child turned up in a scene, Reid put that child in the scene, disrupting conversations and making messes all over what would normally be a smooth back-and-forth dialogue. I loved the little details, like the Clinton campaign and a perfect nugget about the 2016 election that made me snort. 

I docked a star because I did not love the ending. Well, the climax was perfect, and satisfying in a horribly disturbing kind of way. I just didn't like the style. The writing changed a bit abruptly. I didn't like that certain characters were basically voiceless (I honestly wanted to know more about Peter?). But these are such minor quibbles that probably have more to do with the reader than anything else. Honestly, I’m a little hungover today and feeling grumpy so - well, that’s why Goodreads isn’t so serious about ratings, right? Such a Fun Age is, honestly, a book for this year. So go read it now. You've been warned.

Such a Fun Age on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Remaking

"You men always try to tell our story. You men always get it wrong."

4 stars. This was so great - a really spooky, clever October read. Don't go in expecting to be totally terrified or blown away, go in expecting a creepy meditation on stories, obsession, fear, justice, punishment, and revenge. It's also an exploration of how places retain memories, and how sometimes those memories seep into the bones of those who live there (<- this is a particular theme I really, really love and The Remaking dove into it super suitably for my tastes). 

Just as the title implies, the book itself is a meta spiral inside a Russian nesting doll inside a snake eating its own tail. There are essentially three stories here - an urban legend based on a true witch burning (1), an attempt to make a movie based on that legend (2), and an attempt to remake that movie twenty years later (3). It ends with a final coda as a "journalist" enters the scene and tries to tell the story on a podcast. There are several characters who reappear in each layer, representing a beautifully-rendered pattern in the fabric of the original legend. 

There's history here - commentary on the prevalence of suspicion and mania driving people to murder. There's a potent setting here - an accurate snapshot of a small, crumbling, stagnant town in Virginia trapped in its own messy, stale ignorance. There's horror - horror for true fans of horror, I'd say. Horror history buffs. Those who'd appreciate references to the VHS glory days and the evolution of slasher flicks. The author clearly is or has been an "insider" in the industry and peppers his text with wink-y, almost humorous shots at Hollywood.

There is also a lesson. It's not particularly subtle, or complex, because this is, after all, a campfire ghost story. I actually love that The Remaking embraced a loud warning shot because it made it feel so much more strongly like an oral history or a fairy tale or a parable. It's self-aware and smart in that sense and legitimizes all the meta tanglings. 

"Don't you see? Don't you get it? The only monsters around here are you. Not some mother and daughter who got burned at the stake. You."  

As I said, an absolutely great October read and excellent for fans of horror. 

The Remaking on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Home Before Dark

3 stars. Hahahahahaha.

Hmmmmmmmm.

Well, then. This is my first Riley Sager, and I have to say - it's kind of what I expected. A twisty, compelling page-turner that is somehow also clumsy, implausible and cheap. I'm such a picky, critical reader, and that for sure prevented me from just sitting back and enjoying the ride. But the fact is that the flaws here far outweigh the merits. 

The plot follows Maggie Holt, a young woman who inherits her childhood home when her father passes away. Her father had written a book about the place, a bestselling novel documenting her family's experiences in the so-called "house of horrors," and Maggie is determined to find out 1) why her father wrote such an unbelievable thing exploiting her childhood, and 2) what really happened to inspire him.

A couple of elements that were really distracting:

1. The borrowed premise. Being derivative is FINE - really - but this is straight up copied from Netflix's adaptation of Hill House. I don't mind when authors reference other works, but I do mind when they aren't self-aware about it. The tropes utilized here are just those - tropes - and I found myself wishing for a wink, a smirk, an elbow nudge to let us know that we're all here to lean in and suspend belief together, which brings me to...

2. The implausibility! Oh man. Horror is my favorite genre to read, so I'm no stranger to accepting unrealities for the sake of a reading experience. But this was just too much. Too much inexplicable decision-making (by sane, capable adults?!), too much memory loss, too many tangled secrets, too many convenient twists. Maggie acts like the book ruined her life...? Like every interaction is tainted by it? Would people really CARE that much?! Everything clicks together in the end, which is nice, but it feels kind of like an uhhhhhhh what? moment. Which brings me to...

3. Sloppy writing. Try-hard cliffhangers. Awkward dialogue. Characters who sound exactly like each other. Forced chemistry between other certain characters. Drawn out moments that should've been concise. Rushed moments that should've been drawn out. Unnecessary conflict. REALLY strange character motivations. Easily identifiable red herrings. 

I actually feel bad now. It's not THAT bad. It's just a little cringey.

Here's the thing: there's a fantastic idea here. And that idea brings us some great, spooky moments and a perfectly horrifying haunted house atmosphere. The mystery at the heart of the story is truly an interesting one and kept my attention, even though I started piecing things together about halfway through. I didn't hate the protagonist or the format or the way things unfolded. It's also, nicely, a fairly quick read. 

I'll pick up another Riley Sager soon. This was good enough for now.

Home Before Dark on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Catch and Kill

4 stars. This is harrowing and haunting and an absolute must-read. It's not just about the Weinstein story, it's about men and women and hard workers and free thinkers and predators and victims and journalism and the media and America and the truth and the immense, terrifying lengths to which men will go to hide their secrets. I've been thinking a lot about social evolution and how we call ourselves "advanced" - and yet in so many ways we are truly just finding new, techy ways to tear each other apart. How to cope? Well, reading well-written investigative journalism is one reliable way.

Catch and Kill tracks Harvey's crimes, his cover-ups, and his (successful, shameful) efforts to squash the story at NBC. Ronan Farrow documents his experience with the story start to finish - the original assignment, his mind-blowing interviews with sources, his failed attempts to push further and put real evidence on the air, and finally his decision to take the story to The New Yorker. The rest is history. Down with Harvey and the greedy weasels who enabled and empowered his crimes over the years. 

It's one of those sort-of happy endings that leaves you feeling a bit disgusted, maybe in need of a quick shower. It's satisfying to see Harvey caught and jailed and ultimately punished, but the taste of victory is tainted by the bitterness of his crimes. And by the manner in which so many - so, so many - were complicit. And by the way his victims' lives were destroyed, most of them suffering to this day. And by the way even after everything, the psychopath is essentially incapable of comprehending that he is the ultimate evil villain in this story. He is a monster. 

The book itself is well-written. I enjoyed the short chapters and the personal quotes. I enjoyed Farrow's frankness about his background and his own personal connection with the story. He's such a smart guy. I would maybe point out that the book needed a bit more editing, especially toward the end (that’s why I docked a star, honestly), but this truly is a captivating page-turner that you can hardly believe is true. I know when the story first broke and the term "open secret" became slang everyone kept asking "how?! how?! how?!" Well, this is how. And it's just as amazing and awful as you'd expect.

I hope there’s more. I hope this book ends up updated or something. There’s a podcast, for sure, and probably a movie adaptation in the works, but this story continues to unfold and you know what? It feels like progress. I want that documented. I want to roll around in it. To be a woman in this country is to experience hopelessness, injustice, inequality, instability, confusion, rage, powerlessness, fear, and hurt. Farrow is no less than a hero for trying to fight what feels like such an inevitability.

I would also say this: there is absolutely no denying that Farrow has character and stands with strong moral sensibilities. He has a clear objective here; an intention, and it's the right one. I wouldn't dream of undermining his intelligence, his accomplishments, or his immense contribution to this cause. That being said, whenever you write a book about yourself Doing The Right Thing, there's going to be a whiff of self-indulgence; a pinch of self-righteousness. Farrow, for the most part, toes this line and resists any obvious temptations. Did he REALLY act like such a pure super savior literally every step of the way? *Shrug* It doesn't matter in the end. Even Superman saved lives in a flashy uniform. 

Catch and Kill on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Shadows

3 stars. Don't worry - I liked it. I couldn't put it down. I admired it! The spooky stuff is genuinely scary and the emotional aspect of the story packs a punch. When I closed the book, though, all I could think was, ".....cute." I think reading horror has changed a bit for me in this astonishing year of our lord 2020. I'm jaded, I'm less shocked by evil, I walk around in a weird anxious state that barely gets penetrated by things like bloody handprints and creepy dolls. All that being said, this is a perfect October read. I recommend.

The core of the story is a bit cliche: Paul Adams, away from home for twenty-five years after his indirect involvement in a gruesome murder, returns home to care for his dying mother. Memories shift and emerge as he re-acquaints himself with his hometown, and he starts to suspect that something is truly amiss. Meanwhile, a detective from a neighboring town shows up to investigate what appears to be a copycat killing - a murder that mirrors the one that has haunted Paul for all these years. 

I really enjoy Alex North's pacing and his bright, concise way of writing (characters CAN be emotionally fleshed out without millions of words, thanks). It's familiar to The Whisper Man in that sense, which makes me excited - I love a dependable author with consistent style! I also liked that he leaned into something really sad here - not just scary, but sad. It was a nice touch and a layer of depth that made this more sophisticated. 

There are elements of Sarah Pinborough's Behind Her Eyes here, as well as Stephen Chbosky's Imaginary Friend. I would say it's a little Kingy but not nearly as wordy and a little more cut-and-dry. Could be a really fun beach read, if beaches are ever a thing in the future. The twists and turns are pure and unpredictable and the ending is super, super satisfying. All in all, I liked this, as my rating indicates, but I wasn't totally blown away. On to the next. 

The Shadows on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland

5 stars. Phew, this was excellent. Say Nothing is a few things: a detailed history of The Troubles, an investigation into an infamous murder and the others who "disappeared" during those times, and a wrenching character study of the key figures affected and involved. Using a tone that reads much more textbook than true crime (not a bad thing - it's still a page-turner), Patrick Radden Keefe pulls on various threads from this complicated tapestry to uncover and examine the dark truths about the conflict, about morality, about belief, and about humanity as whole. 

A couple of observations:

First of all: for as long as I can remember, I have never really been able to wrap my ahead around the conflict in Ireland. It's an intimidating, almost unbelievable piece of history that's essentially ongoing, and despite my Irish heritage and basic knowledge of the strife I could never talk about it intelligently. This book changed all that. It should be curriculum. It should be a fundamental resource. It should be studied and admired for the way it deftly unlocks an incredibly intricate - and dangerous - safe.

Second: applause to the author for doing so and somehow never truly labeling, criticizing, judging or ultimately losing respect for any of the key players. There are no bad guys here, or rather, everyone is a bad guy (or a bad girl, as it happens). Huge disclaimer, of course: I wasn't there, I've never lived in Ireland, this was my first detailed exposure to this story, and it's quite possible that I just don't get it. But I do believe that Keefe is able to stick to the facts, sordid as they occasionally are, sensitively; maintaining reverence for the victims and for the messy, life-altering aftermaths. 

To that point, I was really struck by the chapter that details Brendan Hughes' later life and eventual conversations as part of the Boston College project. Keefe writes in this chapter - aided by some seriously stomach-churning quotes from Hughes - what are, in my opinion, some of the best words ever written on post-radical disillusionment. "Painting murals on walls to commemorate blanket men after they have died a slow and lonely death from alcohol abuse is no use to anyone ... I would hate for young people now to have this romanticized version of the events of that time. The truth is so very far removed from that and I suppose I'm living proof." 

It's especially heartbreaking and vivid because the entire thing resulted in what many viewed as a non-victory, so IRA participants couldn't even come near to validation. Opinions changed, views were swayed, and political circumstances swirled in vague intangible clouds that lightened as years went by. And the dead ... well, the dead stayed dead, except in the haunted minds of the survivors. Compartmentalizing (and romanticizing, as Hughes ironically notes in a house full of Che posters) must've been so easy in the youth and excitement of it all; grappling with the consequences in the face of long-term failure, though... I cannot. even. imagine. No matter how you look at it, no matter who was "right" or "wrong," the trauma here knows absolutely no bounds.

Human-dealt trauma - that's what it is. Trauma and tragedy perpetuated by the neighbors, the acquaintances, the extended family, the circles you've navigated and known and trusted your whole life. Trauma and tragedy that twists its way into your heart forever. Trauma and tragedy that is so fundamentally human and also so fundamentally useless it makes you repaint the image that comes to mind when you think of "advanced civilization." Human-bred, human-borne, human-built tragedy. It's the world's oldest story, when you think about it, and the one that keeps repeating itself, the one that will continue to repeat itself until the end of time.

I'll be thinking about this - thinking, reflecting, re-reading, researching, and bringing it up randomly at the dinner table - for a long, long time. 

Say Nothing on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads