Book Reviews by Genre: Fiction

One of my first experiences with the writing of Naomi Novik was with Spinning Silver . This Rumpelstiltskin retelling was quite interesting and complex compared to the original fairy tale it was based on. Realizing this was the second in a “series” (of which I’m using this term loosely), I eventually sought this book’s predecessor. Uprooted seems to be an adaptation of eastern European folktales, but with more of the romance aspect that I expect from these kinds of fantasy books.

As with other fairy tale retellings, Uprooted starts off with plenty of tropes from the Grimm fairy tales. Dragons stealing maidens from their families, peasant farmers in poverty, things like that. It continues into the predictable tropes of the Dragon being misunderstood and the fair maiden resisting his cold personality long enough to have him warm up to her. Fortunately, this book is deeper than the tropes it was based on. The depth of the story is partly why it's much longer than the common folktales it might be based on.

I appreciated the magic system and the descriptions of how it felt to use this magic. I thought the cursed woods trope was developed in a much more interesting way than you usually see in these kinds of stories. The eventual romance between the two characters was telegraphed for a while, leading to a slow burn that was fairly erotic. About my only qualm with this book was the audiobook narration. The narrator had an authentic sounding eastern European accent, which fit the story's potential origins, but at the cost of being unable to understand what she was saying sometimes.

A deeply rich fairy tale with both old and new tropes, I give Uprooted 4.0 stars out of 5.

I can appreciate poetic works that try to string each idea together into a connected narrative. I've seen few that have done this as well as Einstein's Dreams has. Of course, the problem with trying to make all these disparate poems work together is that they are still just brief glimpses into stories that could easily stand on their own. Perhaps that's the curse of well-written poetry—it leaves you wanting more. I'd almost consider these stories as writing prompts for anyone looking to make an entire book out of the dreams of the world's best physicist.

Many of the stories in this collection/novel play upon the ideas of general relativity. The way the physics is described and how the people in these worlds live feel legitimately realistic. Of course, sometimes the physics "gimmick" isn't revealed until the end of a story, thus leaving me in the dark as to what was actually happening as I read through the dream. I didn't have enough patience to read through these stories again to fully understand the way their worlds worked.

As a cohesive narrative, there isn't much that advances the story here. It's mostly focused on exploring interesting applications of theoretical physics in the terms of people and their lives. Some are stronger than others, but they're all basically the same idea repeated a couple dozen times in slightly different packaging. And maybe I was expecting something more like Shakespeare in Love (1998) where Einstein's dreams help him break through the concepts he's trying to discover. Instead, the titular character is only in a few pieces of joining text that frame the whole collection. But at least the prose was pretty.

Poetic exploration of theoretical physics, I give Einstein's Dreams 3.0 stars out of 5.

Gonzales is both a non-fiction and fiction writer, whose excellent articles I've read in well-known publications like The Atlantic Monthly. This book is the first novel of hers I've read, and I was not disappointed.

Our two key narrators are Anita, a Latina artist whose husband, we discover right away, killed her in 1980s New York City; and Raquel, a Latina art student in late 1990s Rhode Island, trying to find her way in a predominantly white and privileged community while also maintaining and respecting her cultural roots.

Both Anita (who narrates from the world of the dead and who can use a form of Santeria to manifest her actions and "essence" to people still living) and Raquel share the experience of falling for privileged and self-involved white men, both of whom are controlling and abusive in various ways. While Anita is a fighter to the last, Raquel's self-confidence rises slowly but steadily throughout the novel until the finale when readers see her blossom into a woman who can and will stand up for herself and for her family and true friends.

Beyond the two women's dangerous (and in Anita's case. deadly) relationships with controlling white men, the other linked plotline centers on Anita's art work being gradually erased after her death and the promise that Raquel will somehow unearth those works and breathe new life into them. My only quibble with the progress of this plotline is that its resolution felt rather rushed, not quite providing the satisfaction that a slower, longer narrative of Anita's re-discovery would have.

Gonzales's writing style is propulsive in parts and poetic in others. Her two protagonists are drawn vividly, and even without the named alternating chapters, it would be hard to confuse one voice with another. The conclusion of both narrators' stories shines a light on the importance of women defining themselves outside their roles in men's lives. I think Gonzales also does well to portray Anita and Raquel not simply as victims of male violence and general douche-baggery but as flawed, smart, emotionally conflicted women whose sexual and romantic decisions are as fraught with passion and blind spots as any real-life woman's is.

This book by an Australian writer is one of the best novels I've read this year, centering on the lives of four women in their 70s who've known each other for many years. Three of them gather for the duration of the novel to clear out the home of their friend who has died and to know that this place too will no longer be part of their lives. Readers are witness to their struggle to come to terms with their loss and how they will (or won't) continue their now-reduced friendship. The narration toggles easily from one of the (living) women to the next and back, always propelling plot elements even as the narrative voice changes so that the reader isn't getting "re-runs" of several occurrences just because the point of view changes. In addition, each character is sharply defined and unique, so different from each other, in fact, that it's a wonder they were ever friends to begin with. And this narrative tension among the three as they each ruminate on their memories of the absent fourth and chafe against the foibles and flaws of each other felt poignant and, to me, exquisitely realistic.

Many books I've read that I've loved for a good portion have fallen apart or ended on a "bleh" or even a "wtf?" note. Not this time! What will probably stay with me the longest as Wood's admiring reader is the graceful precision of her final depiction of these tough, wise, messy, sad, funny, and unforgettable women. It involves some high drama, for sure, but also, the ocean--and what this small coastal Australian slice of it has meant to all of them.

I'm not sure where I picked up this book on Kindle, but it finally took me two years to finish it (I'm excruciatingly slow at reading eBooks). To expand my horizons, I thought reading a romance novel would be good for me. Bring Down the Stars feels like a classic partly due to its heavy resemblance to Cyrano de Bergerac. Its tropes feel solidly planted in the genre, even to the point of being almost timeless. Still, the characters are a little frustrating.

When I finally sat down to focus on reading this book, it hooked me pretty well. The writing is beautifully poetic—which is most often seen from the male point of view (POV). The female POV was a good counterpoint to give the reader both sides of the story while also making the miscommunication between these star-crossed lovers a buildup to either passionate love or a complete destruction of the friendship. That dance between the two is likely what keeps people coming back to this genre. I get it now. It's maddening, but I get it.

I found the modern elements interesting because they could have easily been swapped out for similar situations in centuries past. As I mentioned above, this is basically a Cyrano re-telling, but with two athletic college students in love with the same farmer's girl. Which war the men went off to is irrelevant, as it could have just as easily been the American Revolution or Civil War. It frustrated me that there wasn't a conclusion in this book, as it would have been easy to accomplish without the need for a second book. If I feel up to exploring the genre again, I might pick that sequel up.

A modern take on a classic romance, I give Bring Down the Stars 3.5 stars out of 5.

There are plenty of books with authors as the main character, but Yellowface feels like the first time that the struggles have been expressed in such a realistic way. Most author protagonists seem to exist in this vacuum where nobody else in their close circles shares their love of writing and publishing stories. They have no network with other authors or can commiserate over another rejected manuscript. And while Yellowface takes a bold approach to addressing diversity in the publishing world, it still ultimately paints the main character as a villain.

One cannot overemphasize social media's effects on the modern publishing landscape. Anything authors can do to break through the noise, they’ll attempt just to get more traction to sell their book. Tons of talented authors are overlooked for a variety of reasons, but Yellowface asks whether pursuing marginalized voices has created the unintended consequence of marginalizing the voices that used to be promoted. The frustration is real, but Juniper’s actions are not the answer. The thrill of Yellowface’s plot is how long she’s able to get away with it before she’s caught and tried in the square of public opinion.

As an author, a lot of this book made me feel seen. We always tell ourselves that our fellow writers are not competition, but it’s difficult to see others succeed when our own works go unnoticed. Jealousy is real, but we work through it and celebrate with our fellow authors so that someday they can come alongside us and celebrate our victories as well. Even if the ending gets a little weird, the way R.F. Kuang gives an intimate look into this community of writers feels authentic enough to be a universal experience for most authors.

A gripping, tongue-in-cheek examination of author rivalry, I give Yellowface 4.5 stars out of 5.

When I first opened the novel, I had idea what to expect and I didn’t even if I knew I would like the book, but that quickly changed when I became addicted to the story. With an incredible mix of action and adventure, Drew Karpyshyn’s novel: “Darth Bane: Path of Destruction” is hard to beat. Readers join an Outer-Rim miner named Dessel on his journey to morph into his true self: Darth Bane. I personally enjoyed how Drew worded this book, with specific, yet easy to read details. Alongside a captivating storyline, there is nearly non-stop Star Wars action. If any readers thirst for a special Star Wars book that does not sacrifice action with dialogue, I would highly suggest Darth Bane: Path of Destruction.

(Hungry for more Drew? Check out the sequel of this book: Darth Bane Rule of two!)

“The Clue is in the Pudding” by Kate Kingsbury is a delightful read for those who enjoy a delicious mix of bone-chilling mystery and delightful drama. In it, Cicily Baxter, owner of the Pennyfoot Hotel, is hoping to have a very merry Christmas this year. She is planning on entertaining her guests at her annual Christmas party in order to draw in business. Alas, not everything is going as planned. Her head maid has gone to visit family, and the replacement is the most opinionated, fussy, and unfriendly person she has ever met. She causes all sorts of trouble with the rest of her staff. When things seem unable to get any worse, a guest dies mysteriously in his room, and the new maid is chief suspect. However, things are not exactly what they seem, and motives begin popping up left and right amongst the guests. Can Cicily sniff out the murderer before Christmas arrives? As part of the Pennyfoot Hotel series, it may require some thinking from the reader to fill in the holes of the characters’ backgrounds if they have not read any of the other books. The plot is somewhat long, but it is worth it once the end comes! For readers who like romance, suspense, and drama all in one, this book is sure to be a real treat!

The Portrait by Nikolai Gogol is one of his best short stories centering around a penniless artist, Chartkov, struggling to make his name in the art world and finds himself entranced by a portrait he buys at a merchant shop. With a steely face, build of a giant, and eyes that seem to pierce the soul, the portrait that he buys on an impulse at a run-down shop carries a mystery with it that haunts Chartkov both in his waking hours and in his sleep. As he is overcome by his financial difficulty, the strange portrait that he stashed away for fear of its gaze changes his life forever. With flowing imagery and an intrinsic description of human nature and its afflictions, The Portrait latches onto the reader’s heart and presents them with a fascinating account of Chartkov and his peculiar encounter with the portrait with uncanny realism and blended fantasy.

Nikolai Gogol's "The Overcoat" is a simple yet intriguing story of a man set upon buying a new overcoat despite his poverty-stricken life. Enamored with his job of copying documents at the office, Akaky never takes notice of the world around him, even when all the other workers around him gibe at his love for something so mundane as replicating documents and the intense manner of which he regards this dull job. However, he is sharply brought into reality when winter brings frigid weather, and he realizes his threadbare and tattered overcoat simply will not sustain Russia's winter. He begins his speculations into buying a new overcoat with as much zeal as he puts into his office work, yet he hardly expects what the future holds both for him and his overcoat. Both amusing and thought-provoking, Nikolai gives the reader insight into the life of an eccentric office worker laboring during the harsh winter and successfully blends farce comedy with blunt realism to create a short story that stirs the emotions and leaves the reader satisfied.

I began this book because I was interested in the author, Osamu Dazai, as some of his life and feelings were reflected in this work of literature. Overall, I enjoyed the perspective that Yozo brings on both life and humanity.

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai is a fictional story that follows the main character, Oba Yozo, throughout his tumultuous life as he feels estranged from humanity and those around him. Yozo as a child yearns for something in life which he cannot find in the untruthful and utilitarian way that the people he is surrounded by choose to live. As he searches for what it is to be an authentic human being while battling his own disconnect from society, his view on life as a whole changes. As time progresses Yozo’s life takes a bold path, highlighted by his erratic behavior in order to “qualify as a human” as he enters college, still struggling with his fear of exposure and masking his true nature under a comedic facade. The way that Yozo is characterized brings forth a layer of depth and instills a deeper understanding of both him and human nature through his perspective. The book touches on many themes that are prevalent even in our modern-day world such as alienation from society and individual struggle of expression as well as fear of being ostracized. The story of Yozo and his wayward life is intriguing, and I think that one of the reasons that it is still widely read and appreciated both in the West and in Japanese literature is because Yozo brings out the things in people which often are hidden away, revealing some of what it is to be human. His account as he goes through life also adds a refreshing take to things often perceived as mundane, inviting the reader to muse upon them and form their own opinion themselves. However, I was not able to fully enjoy the book because of the overly cynical view it took on life especially towards the end of the story which I believe is a reflection of the author’s similarly deteriorating life.

A novel about a civil war veteran alone (or at least he thinks he is) in the American frontier, Dances With Wolves is an exciting adventure story about belonging and acceptance for those different from you set in the 1860s. Lieutenant Dunbar, the main character, must come to terms with his Native American neighbors, his internal struggles, and his own past.

I enjoyed this book a lot more than I was expecting to, and it even made me laugh out loud several times. I really liked the description and the way Blake writes. I would recommend this book to anyone aged eleven or twelve and above, because of violence and one or two adult themes, though all of it is done very tastefully. Although technically there are no cowboys in this story, this book had a cowboy kind of feeling because of its setting and the characterization of Dunbar. It was quite entertaining and versatile. It is somehow both a lighthearted book and an in-depth commentary on how relationships define us as members of the same species, despite cultural boundaries and mentalities.

This book is about a motherless fourteen year old white girl named Lily. She must learn to overcome her own prejudice and grief, in addition to her struggles at home, which would not be possible without the help of three African-American beekeeper sisters and their unwillingness to give up on her. Although there is some adventure (there are conflicts with racists and Lily's father), mostly this book is a coming-of age novel and about Lily's search for a place where she belongs, growing up in the American South of 1964.
I personally strongly disliked this book, because I found the main character insufferable, but I can appreciate the writing style and
the thoughtfulness that was put into it. If you are looking for a coming-of-age story in which the writing is very descriptive and honest, maybe this book is for you.

The Crucible was a book I enjoyed simply because it is all a big metaphor. Even though the book is set at the time of the Salem Witch Trials, it is actually the author's views on the Red Scare in the US and "Mccarthyism". I love the character development throughout the story, and Miller truly makes them all come alive. The decisions they make, especially Proctor's, are very relatable and do not feel forced, which pushed me to keep reading. It is a beautiful play that takes a dark time in America to explain another dark time, and its use of rhetorical devices and fantastic writing makes it incredibly valuable.

The Things They Carried was a book I had to read for school, but one I started to enjoy. I love the way the author uses very descriptive language to portray every setting and character, making you feel like you are right there with them. The book does a greta job at addressing various moral dilemmas in society and how the "societal rules" change during times of peace and war. Overall this book was not my preferred genre, however the writing is superb and it is a great book to challenge thinking. While it may be hard to relate to characters at times, it definitely makes you stop and think about yourself and where you are.

WOW! This book is full to the brim of constant plot twists, intriguing character arcs, and creatively contrasts good vs. evil. It follows the life of Mr. Utterson who is dear friends with Dr. Jekyll.
After multiple concerning events occur, Mr. Utterson becomes worried for Dr. Jekyll and his eerie relationship with the cruel Mr. Hyde. The plot is beautifully developed as it follows the storyline of many characters while focusing on one main plot and theme.
I recommend this book because it is truly enthralling and I could not put it down!

As I'm working my way through Pulitzer winners and finalists, I approached Housekeeping with skepticism. I knew nothing about this book other than its inclusion on these lists for "high literature." Having now read it, this book completely underwhelmed me. I'm going to include this with other books of literature like One Hundred Years of Solitude or Ulysses , both of which I found extremely boring and lacking of any kind of plot that I could latch onto. At least this was short and had some occasionally flowery prose.

Even now, thinking back on what I read, I can't pick out anything significant that happened in this book. That I'm having trouble remembering what it was about should indicate how little impact it had on me. I vaguely remember there being something about an aunt who was a drifter and the bigger metaphor of "home is where the heart is." And, of course, extrapolating to the title, I can estimate that we must keep our hearts clean so we can live our best lives. Of course, this is all spitballing as even the synopses I've read to remind me of the plot don't help much either.

If Housekeeping left me with anything, it was a feeling. Like an ephemeral sense that the words that were used were meant as fluid poetry in narrative form. Would I recommend this book on its feeling alone? Probably not. But that's fine. Just because a book has many accolades and lots of people like it doesn't mean that I also have to enjoy it. Perhaps I'm more of a shallow reader for not "getting" these books of high literature, but I also know life is too short to spend time on unsatisfying books.

The essence of a deep poetic treatise on life but in an extremely boring package, I give Housekeeping 2.0 stars out of 5.

Until now, I've enjoyed the somewhat serial format of the novellas from the Murderbot Diaries series. Each story grows the story of the main character with a concise plot that does a little world building along the way. It didn't matter if the characters changed between each book, as the focus was always on the first person perspective. With Exit Strategy, we loop back to the beginning as old faces come back into the major thrust of the plot.

I appreciate that there seems to be an overarching narrative across this series. Now that things are connecting together, it feels like a much more thought-out universe instead of the "flavor of the month" stories that the series could have become. Granted, with each one being so short, this book feels like a solid arrival in the second half of the entire story arc—maybe even the pivotal half-way point. The more the titular Murderbot learns about their universe, the more they cannot silently stand by and let things happen. There's no more time to be passive.

Perhaps the best part about each iteration of this series is how the SecUnit grows to become more human. There are legitimately tough decisions that come up in these novellas that cause the main character to face a choice that either reinforces their programming or pushes them down the path away from those murderbot tendencies. And while Exit Strategy didn't have quite the impact of Rogue Protocol , there's at least an end in sight for where this sequence of events will logically take us. I'm hooked now. I want to see how this all ends.

Familiar faces return as the larger plot comes further into focus, I give Exit Strategy 4.0 stars out of 5.

"One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel García Márquez is a novel that spans generations, blending magical realism with themes of love, family, and the cyclical nature of history. Set in the fictional town of Macondo, the novel follows the Buendía family through triumphs, tragedies, and the passage of time. García Márquez's prose and vivid imagery create a picture of Colombian culture and folklore, immersing readers in a world where the extraordinary is commonplace. As the Buendía family grapples with their destinies and the ghosts of the past, García Márquez creates a narrative that transcends time and place, offering insights into the human condition. "One Hundred Years of Solitude" is a masterpiece of literature that enchants, leaving a mark on all who read it.

"The Remains of the Day" by Kazuo Ishiguro is a novel that explores themes of duty, regret, and the passage of time. Set in post-World War II England, it follows the life of Stevens, a butler reflecting on his decades of service at Darlington Hall. Through Stevens' introspective narration, Ishiguro skillfully reveals the inner workings of a man dedicated to his profession to the detriment of his personal life. As Stevens embarks on a journey to confront his past, readers are drawn into an exploration of the complexities of human relationships and the consequences of missed opportunities. Ishiguro's elegant prose and subtle storytelling make "The Remains of the Day" a timeless piece, inviting readers to ponder the meaning of loyalty and the nature of true greatness.