February 10th - Black in Blues
I have high expectations for Imani Perry - I loved South to America and have been a fan of her academic writing since graduate school - and Black in Blues did not disappoint. I will say that Black in Blues reads more like an excellently devised syllabus than it did a book for me, but I'm not mad at that, particularly from one of America's best scholars.
Black in Blues offers the color blue not as a plot device or method for exploring history but as an organizing theme; the idea that blue has been inherently othered throughout history and also at the epicenter of Black life for centuries. Perry's writing is a beautiful synthesis of storytelling and excellent archival work and I learned so much through reading this book about people - like George Washington Carver - that I thought I already knew well enough about. Similarly, her focus on the African diaspora offered me a deeper understanding of African (American) history and the threads of deep blue woven throughout it. This book is synesthetic and is just as much a visual experience as it is a literary one.
Mostly, this book taught me that remembering is an important act. And if there is one clear takeaway, it's that you can always trust Imani Perry to churn out work that is as creative and engaging as it is meticulous.
February 2nd - The Macabre
What do you get when you combine art history, epic heists, magic, and incisive commentary on British imperialism? My favorite book of the year so far. Kosoko Jackson's first foray into the adult world of literature is an excellent, expansive, exhilarating entry into multiple genres and I loved every second of it.
With a dash of art heist a la Grace Li's Portrait of a Thief, dark and dangerous magic like in Naomi Novik's Golden Enclave series, and the expert critique of the Crown and hint of time travel that you get in Kaliane Bradley's The Ministry of Time, Jackson's The Macabre casts a spell early and refuses to let you out of its grip.
Meet Lewis Dixon. He's an American painter with the chops to get him into the British Museum's newest exhibit showcasing the contemporary artistic talents of the commonwealth. Lewis has been selected to represent the United States. The only catch? He's actually there as an asset of the Crown, and its secretive magic division headquartered at the British Museum, which he finds out after nearly losing his life to an enchanted painting he's been summoned to neutralize. Lewis has been invited, we learn, not for his artistic talents but rather for his lineage -- his bloodline is connected to the mysterious painter of the series known as the Macabre and he is the only one who can help the British Museum handle the magical threat.
From there, we're off to the races, quite literally, as Lewis is conscripted to help agent Noah and director of the museum Evangeline track down and destroy the collected works of Edgar Dumont. Without spoiling much more, not everything and everyone is what or who they seem and Lewis will has to use his wit, experience within the art world, and burgeoning magic talent to keep himself and the ones he loves alive.
This book was so much fun and I found myself begging for a sequel and inevitable adaptation to the small screen as I plowed my way through the last of its pages, which is the highest compliment I as a reader can give. Read it!
January 20th - The Last Session
I LOVED Julia Bartz' The Writing Retreat, so I was predisposed to like The Last Session and I am pleased to report Bartz has done it again.
This book, plainly, slaps. Our main character, Thea, is a sexually repressed social worker who loves art therapy. We learn quickly that she was groomed by a pastor in her youth and that less than subtle relationship was sexually exploited by a boy her age who treated her horribly and now she has to think about that entire situation to climax. Rough!
Thea's newest patient is a mysterious Jane Doe who bears a striking resemblance to her striking resemblance - big doe eyes and fiery curls. It turns out this Jane Doe is the actress who starred in Thea's favorite preteen movie (I won't spoil it as it's described perfectly in the book, but it's nuts). They have the same birthday and their similarities don't stop there. Thea is connected to this patient - Catherine - and takes swift action when she's picked up from Thea's psych ward by people claiming to be her patients, only for her actual patients to show up mere hours later.
Thea's investigation - which is objectively insane - takes us to the New Mexico desert to the Center for Relational Healing (CRH), an absolute cult. The center is all about healing past relationship trauma which makes sense for Thea but has a darker underbelly. It's giving NXIVM meets the Landmark Forum and it has taken all of Catherine's child actor fortune.
Moon and Sol - the leaders of the CRH - are enigmatic, absurd people. Bartz has a particular knack for painting big personality characters who draw you in quick and dig their claws in deep and these two are no exception. They're whip smart and cut Thea off at the knees every chance they get - she's there for a reason and they're going to ensure their plans come to fruition.
The Last Session is bonkers from start to finish and I loved it so much I briefly considered going back to grad school to become a therapist and I can't recommend it enough. I am begging Julia Bartz to write her next novel as fast as she can.
January 20th - Night Swimming
Perks of Being a Wallflower was a formative post-high school text for me and many of my friends, so when I read the synopsis for Aaron Starmer's Night Swimming, a post-high school exploration of big emotions and what could be, I figured it might be for me.
Set in the late 1990s, Night Swimming is a 'mix tape' of a novel with a speculative twist. Trevor is an all-American, golden retriever of a guy who is in love with his friend Sarah. Sarah has a boyfriend. But when she pitches a crazy idea to him the night of the last party of high school--to swim all of the pools in their small town, whether or not they're allowed to--he takes her up on her offer and spends the rest of the summer with her.
Trevor, unfortunately, is a teenage boy and let's his emotions get the better of him and inevitably reveals what they've been up to to his other friends, who join them on one last night swim that takes a turn when they meet the kooky owner of their last pool. She tells them of a natural pool out in the woods maintained by a local family and they, particularly Sarah, jump at the chance to extend their summer project.
At the pool, time flows weirdly and, eventually, they realize that they've been there for significantly longer than they thought they had been. The pool is a sort of purgatory that allows the teenagers to stay frozen in time until they've decided they've had enough. For Sarah, who is squeezing every last drop of blood from the stone that is her summer, this is ideal. Not everyone agrees.
Weirdly, I liked this book a lot more before it got speculative. I found the pool as purgatory as coming of age metaphor a little heavy-handed and would have preferred to see more fleshed out characters. Starmer attempts this, but the novel's brevity - usually a strength in my book - results in relatively flat characters that feel cribbed from The Breakfast Club and other teen movies than actually realized.
I don't think it's exactly a classic, but it's readable and might be fun if you want to relive a bit of teenage youth. Three of five stars.
January 20th - Knife Skills for Beginners
I love a cozy mystery and there is almost nothing cozier to me than the Food Network. So, when I came across Orlando Murrin's Knife Skills for Beginner--in which seasoned chef Paul Delamere takes over a cooking school gig for his old pal TV chef Christian--I knew I had to pick it up.
The struggling cooking school Paul agrees to help out with contains a lovely cast of characters, all of whom have some relationship--mostly fanatic--to the celebrity chef Paul is replacing, so when Christian turns up dead, the meat cleaver from butchery class clean through his neck, the pool of suspects is simultaneously deep and crystal clear.
From there, Knife Skills for Beginners is a joyously formulaic cozy mystery with twists, turns, and just enough bread crumbs left for the reader to make a passable panzanella of the whodunnit. The recipe journal left behind by the victim adds extra flavor to the novel and the characters not immediately involved in the murder--including Paul's best friend Julie and the other staff at the food magazine he works at--are delightful additions that Murrin has smartly set himself up to return to in future installments.
The ending is Agatha Christie in the best way, with a reveal that--if you're paying attention and have eliminated suspects as clues have been provided--feels simultaneously ridiculous and satisfying. And who doesn't love solving the crime a few pages, or chapters, before the author tells you exactly what occurred?
5/5 stars. Absolutely looking forward to Murrin's next.
September 23rd - The House on the Cover of a Horror Novel
EV Knight's The House on the Cover of a Horror Novel starts with a compelling image: a house on fire. Miles, the husband we meet at the flashback opener of the book and later come to hate, is at his wits end and trying anything he can to free himself and his family from the haunted house he made the mistake of purchasing.
Why'd he buy it? He thought his wife, Emily, a cover artist and painter who had been obsessively painting the spooky property for a big Stephen King-level client, wanted it. She'd finally gotten pregnant with their miracle baby and they needed more space and had the money, so he did the scariest thing that happens in the book - he bought a house without consulting his spouse. From there, the conceit of the novel - a haunted house that was supposed to be painted and instead becomes the main character's actual home - begins to fall into line with what we know from the subgenre. Mysterious things start to happen. We, and the characters, learn new information about the house's former inhabitants. And the situation gets precipitously worse.
From start to finish, The House on the Cover of a Horror Novel feels a bit heavy-handed and obvious. Miles, the husband, is almost comically awful. He won't stop gaslighting his wife about a problem that he almost exclusively created. Similarly, Cooper, the author Emily is working with as the setup for the book, is equally problematic. He creates a media circus that only exacerbates the tension at the core of the novel (which I won't spoil) and eggs Miles' bad behavior on. Even a random man that Miles encounters at a bar practically begs him to punish his wife for (over)reacting to the hell-house he's thrust upon her.
All in all, I respect the gender criticism and feminist undertones of this novel, but did not love it as a haunted house story. The ending is rather unsatisfying and there weren't really any creative or interesting reveals, twists, or unexpected turns. It's a beautiful Zillow listing with no surprises that's worth the browse but isn't my dream home.
September 20th, 2024 - The Bitter End
I love a closed-room mystery more than almost any other novel conceit and Alexa Donne's The Bitter End hits every mark. Every cliche and trope is covered to great effect: true crime obsessed rich kids are snowed in at a cabin, they have no cell service and their phones have been taken, and their guidance counselor disappears early on. As the bodies start to pile up, motives pour out like an open faucet and everyone is both a target and potential killer.
It's time for the Senior Excursion at Warner Prep and rich kids Delaney, Declan, Eden, Camille, Wyatt, and Liam have lucked out of their first pick choices and into a less-than-ideal digital detox retreat at a snowy cabin in the mountains. Scholarship kids Piper and Willa are also there.
Their first day is easy and complete with cross-country skiing and a casual dinner, but everything takes a turn when Eden drugs their chaperone and guidance counselor, Ms. Silva, and talks the rest of the group into playing a strip card game that feels oddly pointed and which later pivots to a classic teenage drinking game that easily turns into a mean-spirited shitshow, Never Have I Ever. We learn all about these privileged kids and the horrible things they've done together, so it's no shock when they wake up in the morning to one of their own dead on the couch. He's had an allergic reaction to amaretto and his EpiPen, which he always diligently carries, is nowhere to be found.
From there, the novel spirals into the finger-pointing, let's split up chaos that anyone familiar with closed room mysteries like Clue, Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None (which Donne acknowledges was inspiration for the book), or the more contemporary Bodies, Bodies, Bodies will recognize and love. Donne does an excellent job leaving breadcrumbs for the reader in the form of flashback chapters that paint a picture of cliques, changed relationships, and high-stakes teenage tension. The setting, a Blizzardy ski chalet, is just icing on the cake.
The Bitter End does what it sets out to do and more. The story is compelling and prompted me to buy Donne's other books. It may have been predictable if you pay close attention to the characters and their motives, but that's okay with me. I WANT to be able to solve the crime as it's unfolding. My only complaint was that the characters blend together early on, so keeping track of who is who was a bit of a challenge until the pack starts to get thinned. But once a few bodies get piled up, the novel flies and will be an ideal cozy cabin read when it comes out in October.
August 18th, 2024 - This Girl’s a Killer
Cordelia Black is a woman who does her homework and never starts something she plans to finish without a plan. So when the drug she's been pushing as a medical sales executive gets pulled from the market and her sample trail is audited, she's got problems. The kicker? She's been using that little blue pill to sedate her victims. That's right - Cordelia Black isn't just a red-bottom wearing pill pusher, she's also a serial killer. And she only kills bad boys. Very bad boys.
A book that felt a lot like Emerald Fennell's Promising Young Woman meets Showtime's Dexter, This Girl's a Killer was just as addictive as the medication in its main character's roller bag. From start to finish, I loved seeing Cordelia navigate situations she manufactured (dates with men she would later kill) just as much as the ones she stumbled into (was dating a cop the best idea? No. But did it stress me out as a reader in the best way? Yes). Her love for herself, her best friend Diane, and Diane's daughter and Cordelia's goddaughter sugar made it easier to empathize with - hear me out - a serial killer and I found myself rooting for her not to get caught.
Without spoiling the novel, she... does get caught. Several times. But she's quick on her stiletto-clad feet and her willingness to improvise makes her an engaging killer and protagonist. I did find the book drag a little bit towards the end - there's only so many messes someone can wriggle themselves out of before plot armor starts to feel excessive - but This Girl's a Killer is a spectacular debut from Wells. And I wouldn't be shocked if it was promptly optioned and adapted into a killer TV show or movie.
August 15th, 2024 - So Thirsty
A milestone birthday isn't always something to celebrate, something Sloane - the main character of Rachel Harrison's So Thirsty - knows first hand. She's getting older and she's already well aware her husband is window shopping for a new girlfriend if not a new wife. So when her less-than-dutiful husband tells her he's booked her a weekend birthday getaway with her best friend Naomi, she puts on a brave face and goes.
At the Waterfront Collective, a resort and spa that is NOT a cult, we meet Naomi, the publicist/manager of her boyfriend's megawatt rock band and general chaos agent. Naomi and Sloane have been best friends since they were kids and they are absolute foils - Sloane is somewhat resigned to a life of disappointment and Naomi takes what she wants, even if she's not always exactly honest with herself.
Naomi's proclivity to push Sloane after a night out at the only cool bar in town results in an a birthday surprise that turns out to be something of an Eyes Wide Shut house party complete with sex, intrigue, and, eventually, murder. From there, the book escalates rapidly and spirals out of control as vampirism enters the chat and Sloane's relaxing birthday spa weekend becomes a road trip against her will.
Without heading into spoiler territory, the vampires - true to legend, very Eastern European - were fun and engaging but they serve more as a plot device than anything else, and you feel it as a reader. They exist within their own setting and backstory, which is great, but that serves to completely derail the fun setup of the book - the secluded spa and resort. Because we spend almost no actual time at the Waterfront Collective, its creepy vibe, high potential for cult and/or vampire familiar reveals, and idyllic setting are underutilized.
Once we leave the confines of the Waterfront Collective, the love story that unfolds between felt unnecessary and like it was there purely to substantiate a continued relationship between Sloane, Naomi, and the group (it is, realistically, the only thing that stops them from being promptly killed). But that's okay! Because Harrison keeps us barreling ahead to an explosive finish. This is a book you'll blaze through.
I wouldn't be surprised if So Thirsty was pitched as Thelma and Louise meets vampires - the book is at its best when its investigating what it means to be a woman, female friendship, and what it truly means to know someone. Naomi is fun, easy to like, and then easy to hate. Sloane is self-righteous and anxious but ultimately you root for. They work together. The ending shows that friendship pays off. And we love to see it.
July 30th, 2024 - Heads Will Roll
Welcome to Camp Castaway, where the campers are disgraced, cancelled, or ostracized one way or another and are there seeking a tactical retreat from their woes. No one knows who anyone else is, or so they think, and the camp is a 'safe space' to process trauma, work through grief, and learn more about themselves and what's holding them back. It's also a hunting ground for a vengeance obsessed killer!
Heads Will Roll was excellent. I sped through it in a day and was happy to find that there was no unnecessary monologuing, side quests, or unresolved plot lines slowing me down as a reader. Winning kept the plot moving - running for its life, really - and the main character Willow was just self-righteous enough to work as a final girl. The inclusion of tweets and communications between chapters that slowly revealed pieces of the puzzle worked well enough (but was a bit finicky on an e-reader) and each character's arc was well thought out and compelling.
It was clear to me from reading Heads Will Roll, both in terms of the actual text of the novel and the inspiration it clearly draws from, that the author is a horror fan, specifically favoring slashers. Probably specifically favoring the second film in the Scream franchise, if I'm being honest. For a horror-obsessed film fanatic and voracious reader, clear thematic and cinematic inspiration lead me to solve the puzzle of the novel well before I had to buy any vowels which was simultaneously satisfying if a little underwhelming. I don't mind a book that gives me enough to work with to identify the killer before they tear off the mask, but some of the scenes were almost so shot-for-shot that I found myself skipping ahead to their resolution (hello, police car scene from Scream 2). But being derivative isn't necessarily bad and Winning made the effort to wrap tried and true tropes (of course it's raining, of course the power has been cut, of course the phones are missing, of course someone the main character has gotten close to turns out to be somewhat of an enemy) feel fresh and fun in the summer camp context. And I commend him even further on writing a ghost story into the plot that simultaneously worked and felt like something I hadn't heard before.
Heads Will Roll also does double-duty (like any good horror film or book) as social commentary and the emphasis on the dangers of social media and cancel culture, particularly when framed alongside a coming out narrative, was successful in my view. The book certainly isn't genre-defying and it failed to deliver on a very wanted and wished for Yeah Yeah Yeahs joke, but it made me buy the author's other novels, so in that sense it's more than Winning (and I will not apologize for a pun like this in a review of a book with wordplay at its foundation).
July 19th, 2024 - The Night Guest
One of my favorite things to do on an evening without plans is to find a short horror film on any of the streaming services, preferably one I haven't heard of, and watch it. My ideal length is 100 minutes or less, a fast pass to the spine-tingling chills and terrors that might keep someone else up but which I fall asleep promptly after experiencing.
Hildur Knutsdottir's The Night Guest is the literary equivalent of the perfect Icelandic thriller I might seek out.
The main character of the story, Iðunn, is exhausted and she doesn't know why. A responsible adult, we meet her at the doctor's office where she's seeking answers. Unfortunately, her symptoms align most closely with depression, not the most helpful of answers for her. Later, at happy hour with her friends, one of them suggests she get more active. Maybe she just needs those endorphins everyone is talking about. So Iðunn goes to the store and buys a Garmin watch, smartly choosing to monitor her progress and get those steps in!
The horror at the core of this novel creeps in as slowly as Iðunn's step count rises, manifesting in an unusual reflection in the mirror, unexplained bruises and cuts, and strange interactions with neighbors. Without spoiling anything, this is a sprint of a novel that I simply inhaled. Knutsdottir's writing is sharp, propulsive, and frenetic and the Night Guest feels like the expertly edited speed horror I crave as a viewer and reader. It will be the perfect fall read for a night where you just want to spend the evening stressed out on your couch with a glass of wine when it comes out in September. I can't recommend it enough.
July 11th, 2024 - Pony Confidential
July 11th, 2024 - Pony Confidential
I imagine the logline of Pony Confidential was 'Pony solves murder; horse girl rejoices.' Or something along those lines. I myself am not a horse girl - in fact I have a pretty specific fear of horses - but the cover and the jacket copy caught my attention. I LOVED Henry Hoke's Open Throat and I figured I might enjoy another book, particularly a murder mystery, that had at least one animal POV. Animal POVs have been huge recently. And, for the most part, I did enjoy Pony Confidential.
Penny and the Pony, our two MCs, were each compelling in their own rights. Penny had a lot less to do, really, and mostly waited for the Pony to save her while providing characterization and plot through different-stage-in-life flashbacks, but was generally likeable if a bit static. The Pony was, frankly, a bit of a ~character~ in that his tone and motivation seemed less than domesticated. Parts every animal from Homeward Bound, Airbud, and less-violent John Wick, the Pony drove the narrative. The Pony also went on what can only be described as inane and unnecessary side quests that significantly drew out the length of the novel and made me question what I was doing reading the book. Had the story been more tightly constructed (including removing a lot of unnecessary characters who did nothing to advance the plot), and had there been significantly less time-jumping, it would have been a lot easier to answer that question.
There is a meme that depicts a drawing of a horse in which the first 25% of the horse is beautifully drawn, detailed down to the micrometer, each hair rendered in extraordinary style. And then the back 75% of the horse is a children's best attempt. Maybe they haven't seen a horse. Maybe they have. It's sort of close, but it's not all there. That meme is how I felt about Pony Confidential. Ironically, had the book instead been a drawing of a pony in the metaphor - much shorter and more compact - it probably would have been much more lovely a narrative. The pieces were there, but character and adventure bloat turned this interesting idea into a bit of a slog.
I imagine the logline of Pony Confidential was 'Pony solves murder; horse girl rejoices.' Or something along those lines. I myself am not a horse girl - in fact I have a pretty specific fear of horses - but the cover and the jacket copy caught my attention. I LOVED Henry Hoke's Open Throat and I figured I might enjoy another book, particularly a murder mystery, that had at least one animal POV. Animal POVs have been huge recently. And, for the most part, I did enjoy Pony Confidential.
Penny and the Pony, our two MCs, were each compelling in their own rights. Penny had a lot less to do, really, and mostly waited for the Pony to save her while providing characterization and plot through different-stage-in-life flashbacks, but was generally likeable if a bit static. The Pony was, frankly, a bit of a ~character~ in that his tone and motivation seemed less than domesticated. Parts every animal from Homeward Bound, Airbud, and less-violent John Wick, the Pony drove the narrative. The Pony also went on what can only be described as inane and unnecessary side quests that significantly drew out the length of the novel and made me question what I was doing reading the book. Had the story been more tightly constructed (including removing a lot of unnecessary characters who did nothing to advance the plot), and had there been significantly less time-jumping, it would have been a lot easier to answer that question.
There is a meme that depicts a drawing of a horse in which the first 25% of the horse is beautifully drawn, detailed down to the micrometer, each hair rendered in extraordinary style. And then the back 75% of the horse is a children's best attempt. Maybe they haven't seen a horse. Maybe they have. It's sort of close, but it's not all there. That meme is how I felt about Pony Confidential. Ironically, had the book instead been a drawing of a pony in the metaphor - much shorter and more compact - it probably would have been much more lovely a narrative. The pieces were there, but character and adventure bloat turned this interesting idea into a bit of a slog.