My favorite method of reading is to forget everything I know about a book before I start reading, and discover the story page by page with as few expectations as possible for what it’s “about” or where it’s going. I think it speaks volumes of Anne Enright’s The Wren, The Wrenthat, managing to successfully forget its premise before starting, I was fully engrossed for at least 2/3 of the text here before I had *any* real idea of The Point, and I still immensely enjoyed every moment of that confusion.
The Wren, The Wren follows three generations within one Irish family; starting with the youngest, we see first a modern woman freelancing in the internet age, falling in love with a disastrous man and searching blindly for her future. Up next is her mother, happily single and entirely devoted to her daughter, though still struggling with the loss of her brilliant but abusive father and not without her own faults. It is not, however, until we see the man himself up close- the poet, the legend- that the pieces really begin to fall into place.
This is a family saga, the story of a man who burned bright at great cost to those who loved him, and the reclaiming of their own name by the women who follow behind. It’s a poignant, gorgeous look at changing power structures, at the ripple effect of greatness and great arrogance. At who has the freedom to make mistakes. But perhaps most significantly, it’s delightfully poetic.
I’ll admit, I think I have pretty simple taste in poetry and don’t read from the genre often, but I do know know to revel at well-placed words and the power of packing wide meaning into a small space. the (original!) poems interspersed within the text here I found both compelling in their own right, and perfect accompaniment to the overall narrative- no trite filler here. I read and reread many of the poems, and was even inspired to seek out again some of my old favorite verses- always a win when a book sparks further reading!
“We don’t walk down the same street as the person walking beside us. All we can do is tell the other person what we see. We can point at things and try to name them. If we do this well, our friend can look at the world in a new way. We can meet.“
Ultimately this was a quieter novel than I tend to prefer, but Enright had me hooked from the first page. I won’t be forgetting this story or the beauty it reminded me to look for in the world, any time soon. I’m happy seeing this one on the WP shortlist!
My reaction: 4 out of 5 stars. I’ve read one previous novel from Enright, also thanks to the Women’s Prize: Actress. In both experiences it was the writing that swayed me more than the story, but overall I did prefer this one as I did feel a bit more invested in the characters and thought the poetry focus really allowed Enright’s craft to shine in a way that felt built-in to the novel rather than merely a side perk. I can see The Wren, The Wren having a bit of a niche, literary/poetry audience, but I think it does what it sets out to very well. Based on this experience, I would definitely read from the author again.
Effie Black’s In Defence of the Actdigs into a difficult subject: the ways we cope with suicide, particularly when losing a close relative or friend. Our MC is a scientist, exploring her own feelings while working on a pet project: a study of spiders that she would like to prove accept their own deaths willingly as a means of bettering the community they are leaving behind; and if this phenomenon exists elsewhere in nature, why not in human nature too? This preoccupation stems from her own complicated web of emotions around family and friends who have died or tried to; but as the book progresses, we come to understand along with Jessica that her stance is flawed and her regrets are not exactly what she assumed them to be.
Given that the book begins with a controversial premise and cynical narrator, I expected a hard-hitting read. However, due in part to its brevity and our MC’s contradictory thoughts, this book never quite hit that mark for me. Told in short retrospective vignettes with periodic flashes from a looming funeral running throughout, the story didn’t allow me to spend enough time with the various characters (several of whom are confined to their own chapters) to view them as more than cardboard cutouts and build effective empathy for the losses. The framework feels somewhat like a scientists’ logbook approach: data recorded with clear lines drawn between causes and effects, but Jessica is the only emotional point of connection for the reader and she soon proves unreliable, her behavior showing value in saved lives that her internal monologue struggles to reconcile or even recognize.
Though I would’ve liked more time with many of them, I did appreciate the range of relationships explored here: parental, sibling, friendly, and romantic (including LGBTQ+ rep!). I also appreciated the overlap of personal and professional interests- the ways that our MC’s emotional history drives her studies and career, which in turn feed her opinions and emotional responses. I appreciated less the unexplained sans-serif font, and was downright disappointed by Jessica’s simplistic, avoidant, and baby-centric conclusions after a lifetime of grappling over questions of death.
While I didn’t necessarily want a novel arguing for suicide, I did want to be challenged and at least mildly devastated, neither of which occurred for this reader. I don’t think In Defence of the Act is a bad book by any means and will likely touch many who agree with its ultimate sentiments, but it’s not as bold in the end as it sets out to be.
“We all decide which bits of our lives have meaning and consequence, which bits to hold on to and use as a guide. I held onto the wrong thing for too long. There’s too much at stake now.”
My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. This book had a lot of potential, but the abrupt change in direction that it took ultimately wasn’t the right fit for me. I might go so far as to call it a disservice to the rest of the book, but I can appreciate that other readers are finding some positivity in the face of despair here, something that I don’t want to begrudge anyone, so I’ll leave off with simply saying I don’t think Black’s work suits my personal tastes. I’m glad I gave this one a chance but also relieved to see six different titles on the WP shortlist.
Have you read this one? I’d love to see your thoughts!
It’s time! The Women’s Prize for Fiction has recently announced their shortlist, advancing six books from the longlist of sixteen.
I’ve completed 7 longlist reads so far and am currently working through my 8th; I’m 2 reviews behind here but they are written, so those will be coming up imminently! I took a longlist hiatus earlier this month which set me back a bit but felt good. I’m reinvested now and ready to knock out the rest of the longlist before the winner announcement on June 13th.
As for the shortlist, I’ve read 2 of these titles so far and am currently reading my 3rd. Let’s take a closer look at the list:
Brotherless Night by V. V. Ganeshananthan has been my favorite from the longlist so far, and the book I most wanted to see here! I thought this was incredibly well-written and moving, and I’m thrilled to see it being recognized with a spot on the shortlist. It’s a heavy recent-history read featuring the Sri Lankan civil war; I highly recommend it and have been hoping to see it take the win ever since I picked it up blindly to kick off my longlist reading this year. (Obviously I still have a several books left to read so that could certainly change, but it would take an impressive story to do so!)
The Wren, The Wren by Anne Enrightwas my most recent longlist read; it’s a book I adored more than I expected to and I’m happy to see it made the cut. This is a very quiet and largely plotless novel following three generations of an Irish family, well-crafted and beautifully poetic; an impressive literary work packed with original poems. Every word is in exactly the right place and I couldn’t help being hooked by the language from the first page. I’ve read from Enright before (Actress also got a good rating from me), but I enjoyed this one even more.
Enter Ghost by Isabella Hammadis my current read, and one I’ve been most excited about from the longlist! It’s off to a good start for me featuring an actress visiting her sister in Haifa and recruited to a West Bank production of Hamlet; I’ve seen a lot of support for this one since it’s publication, so I have high hopes for the rest of my experience with it and am pleased at its advancement. (As with the rest of the books that I haven’t finished reading at this point, I will have more info and thoughts to share in upcoming reviews.)
Soldier Sailor by Claire Kilroy – Readers seem to be loving this one and I’m unsurprised to see it here; I’m very particular about motherhood books but this one landed on my tbr previous to even seeing this year’s longlist, so I’m cautiously optimistic and can appreciate that its inclusion on the shortlist is being well-received by many. I’ve had a couple of experiences now with feeling blindsided by longlisted books that uplift the importance of motherhood when that wasn’t the direction I expected from the read (not that there’s anything wrong with motherhood of course, but as a childless woman I do appreciate other themes having room to breathe); I do like that this book, centering a mother/son relationship- and the shortlist as a whole, to the best of my knowledge- seems more direct in its intent.
River East, River West by Aube Rey Lescure is a book I feel totally neutral about at this point; I’ve seen some middling reviews but personally don’t have any hang-ups about it going in and am content with the extra nudge to pick this up soon. I remember absolutely nothing about the premise atm but that’s the way I like to start, so I’ll reach for this soon.
Restless Dolly Maunder by Kate Grenville is my biggest shortlist surprise, though perhaps that’s unfair as I’ve not yet read any Grenville and therefore have nothing to judge by but vibes. I did buy this one and love the foliage/florals of the endpapers, so for that very arbitrary reason I’m glad that its placement here is upping my intrigue in the story (an Australian historical fiction tale) as well.
Of the books I’ve read so far, I appreciated each of the reads but didn’t particularly expect to see more of them advance. If I had given it more thought, I might have predicted And Then She Fell for the shortlist, which wasn’t a perfect fit for me but did offer a lot to admire that I thought might appeal more to other readers. I continue to love Western Lane but it did have its Booker moment already and finding new titles is one of the best parts of following prizes. I quite enjoyed The Blue Beautiful World, but seeing a sci-fi title on the longlist is rare enough and I couldn’t see it having wide enough appeal to land on the shortlist despite its impressive craftsmanship. Ordinary Human Failings and In Defence of the Act appeared in many shortlist predictions on my radar; I’m happy they’ve found their audiences but personally am happy to leave both on the longlist.
The three I most wanted to see advance were Brotherless Night, Enter Ghost, and The Wren, The Wren, so I’m three for three with my wishlist and very content with that. I now have extra excitement for the three shortlist books I have yet to touch, none of which were particularly calling to me yesterday and all of which now appear a bit shinier; I also don’t mind that a few other titles I was most looking forward to reading from the longlist (Hangman and 8 Lives of a Century-Old Trickster, for example) didn’t make the cut, as that leaves me still enthused about finishing the entire longlist.
Once I’ve completed all sixteen books I’ll do an overall ranking, winner prediction, and share whether any of my thoughts have changed- whether I’m still pleased with the shortlist or feeling less enchanted about the longlist as a whole; while I never expect every book on the Women’s Prize to cater to my particular reading tastes, I do generally tend to have a good time trusting the judges and expanding my reading life, and this longlist is no exception. It’s fun to push myself, to see what other readers are loving (or not), and feel like part of a somewhat niche community.
So tell me below- are you reading the Women’s Prize this year, in part or full? What do you think of the shortlist? What do you think will win???
Alicia Elliott’s And Then She Fell is another book from the WP longlist with a motherhood focus, which is not my type currently but I did know in advance this time, which helped. The story addresses post-partum mental health, but its richness in theme doesn’t stop there.
Our MC is a new mother to a 6 week-old and struggling to build a rapport with the baby; she’s also grieving the recent loss of her own mother, whose death she blames herself for. In spare moments, she works at writing out the Creation Story her Mohawk tribe believes in, using a fresh, personal and irreverent voice, juggling doubts about her storytelling and fears that everyone around her is conspiring against her. It’s a brilliant pairing of real Native concerns in the modern world and magical realism related to a psychotic break; as the paranoia reflects real prejudices recognizable in today’s society and the magic highlights Native beliefs, there does come a masterfully constructed point where both narrator and reader are left wondering where to find the line between the real and the imagined- and whether imagined threats are any less real after all.
I did struggle with the irreverence of the story’s tone at times, despite appreciating the points that telling a traditional story in an untraditional way is no less valid, and that adaptation can be the key to keeping traditions alive in a changing world. Magical realism is also something I tend to struggle with, and this book was no exception; it started pretty rocky for me here with a cartoon breaking character on screen to impart wisdom/advice, but further instances felt less silly. Any issues I had with tone and genre are a reflection of my own reading tastes, not indicative of any flaw in Elliott’s writing, which deftly weaves together each thread of this multi-layered tapestry.
I particularly enjoyed the commentary on Native culture and the navigation of rampant racism, and felt the MC’s imposter syndrome with her writing hit close to home- though of course my own stakes differ and feel much less significant in comparison, many of the doubts and affirmations represented here felt very translatable across circumstances without ever detracting from the uniqueness of the MC’s own particular perspective.
Although I didn’t always feel like the right audience for this book, I am glad I read it and wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it to the right reader- perhaps someone interested in reading about motherhood, the process of making art, and deepening one’s cultural understanding. I do think it’s a good fit for the WP this year.
“Mohawk feels like a weapon coming from Steve’s lips- not because he’s necessarily wielding it that way but because history is. Here was the language I had lost, the language my parents and aunts and half my grandparents had lost, which was so different from the English that’d been forced on us that I secretly worried my tongue would never be able to make those sounds. And here was Steve, rattling it off easily, as if it weren’t an endangered language, my endangered language; as if those words, which held my culture, were simply…words to him.”
My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. I was eager to check this one out because Elliott’s previous publication, A Mind Spread Out on the Ground, caught my attention a few years ago but I’ve yet to pick it up; luckily, though And Then She Fell wasn’t a perfect fit for me personally, I appreciated the writing and themes enough here that I am still interested in checking out more work from Elliott. I’m not sure I would’ve ever picked up And Then She Fell on my own, but aside from some initial hesitation I got along with it better than I expected to.
I was actually reading another book, picked up Karen Lord’s The Blue, Beautiful Worldjust to check out the first few pages, and couldn’t put it down!
I love seeing a bit of genre fare featured on the WP list; this one’s a sci-fi/speculative First Contact tale, although even the book’s characters are quick to admit that’s a bit of a misnomer, as it’s the first known contact from the Earth human perspective, while in face intergalactic life has been hiding in plain sight on the planet for years.
It’s a well-considered plot with a very plausible feel, peppered with cool tech, unique ideas, and a wide range of fascinating characters (including alien POVs!). Despite feeling fully immersed very quickly, this was a slower read for me, weighted with a plethora of names (the characters are many and some use more than one name), interrelated and elaborate plot lines, and detailed histories and politics to juggle; but it’s not impenetrable even for the reader who doesn’t often reach for sci-fi. Although 3rd in a larger series, The Blue, Beautiful World reads fine as a standalone; all context needed is provided in these pages and there are no visible gaps left open from information provided in earlier volumes.
Things I liked:
the diverse cast (including nonbinary rep)!
the immersive quality, even while frequently shifting perspectives and settings present their own challenge
the sense of discovery; without losing the book’s monumental feel, the stakes rarely feel deadly and immediate, appealing to the reader’s sense of wonder rather than falling into a more predictable “us vs them” dichotomy
the possibility of peace- of course other possibilities also loom, but it’s refreshing to see that threats and war might not be the first priority
the reminder that our world and wider galaxy is still a place full of mystery and possibility, even in hard times
However, while I found much to enjoy and admire here, I just didn’t have a high enough level of emotional engagement with either the writing (which is smart and descriptive) or the characters, which might have tipped this read into the 5-star range for me.
“Sometimes a hero, or an angel, isn’t much more than a person trying their best to do the job they’ve been sent to do.”
My reaction: 4 out of 5 stars. Ultimately, I don’t know that I’ll be remembering this one strongly or often, but I did enjoy the time I spent with it and I think it adds an interesting and worthy angle to the WP list on what it means to be a woman and a human in the modern world. I would definitely consider reading more from this author in the future.
Have you read this one, or are you interested? Are there any other First Contact books you’d particularly recommend?
Megan Nolan’s Ordinary Human Failings is going to be a bit challenging for me to talk about because while I can admire the skill behind it and see how others (particularly the Paul Murray Bee Sting crowd I think) will love it, it’s just not my type.
The story starts on a note of promising suspense with a young mother still longing for the affair that produced her child, while remaining uninterested in the child herself. The girl, age 10, is accused of a heinous crime, the entire family implicated behind the scenes. Running parallel to this disaster, we also follow a slimy try-hard reporter looking to take advantage of the situation for his own profit, at the family’s expense. It’s a shocking and effective set-up.
But from here, the story goes several directions that failed to hold my interest.
First, this is in its own way a motherhood story, offering a few perspectives that I think are important, especially regarding women’s health care issues. However, it isn’t a topic that I’m currently drawn to in my reading, so I struggled.
In addition, this book is a rippling family saga, in which the history of every person in the household is recounted in retrospect, the lives slotting together seamlessly and ruinously. Again, I can see a lot of readers appreciating this part of the narrative more than I did; it’s engaging and insightful enough, though I found the characters’ backgrounds entirely unsurprising, and knowing where the characters end up by the time these histories are recalled renders them a bit tedious.
There’s also the matter of the underlying theme of “ordinary human failings,” which I interpreted to be the personal challenges many of us face in our lives, the momentous but largely ignored obstacles that society seems to expect us to just get on with- like missing parental figures, alcoholism, teen pregnancy, lost love. Points of pain that could be handled with support, or prove disastrous if left unaddressed. I wanted the book to push harder at the term “ordinary,” not only to suggest that it’s human for us to struggle with things beyond our control, but to really advocate for the importance of removing societal shames and general lack of aid/understanding that stand in the way of people getting needed life-altering help. I think Nolan is on to something here and portrays it beautifully, but I’m a fan of a sharper critique, personally.
“Really, who would care about a family like theirs? Theirs were ordinary human failings, tragedies too routine to be of note.”
My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. I’m sure Ordinary Human Failings will find a rapt audience and I don’t begrudge reading it; I’ve even added Nolan’s previous novel to my TBR as I did like her writing and suspect another plot may be more my style. I think this one will work better for others and don’t want to discourage anyone drawn to the synopsis, but I just didn’t like it as much as I’d hoped to.
Have you read this one, or does it catch your interest? Let me know in the comments!
I picked up V. V. Ganeshananthan’s Brotherless Night by default- it was the only WP longlister that I could get my hands on quickly. But now I can say confidently that I wouldn’t have wanted to start my WP reading any other way: this book is fantastic. Sharply written, brutal, unflinching, and unforgettable.
This is the story of a young Sri Lankan Tamil woman with a crush and a dream of becoming a doctor at a time when riots and civil war break out across her city and country. The book opens with a mention of terrorism, and between its first page and its last it contains immense horror and sadness as our MC’s family are swallowed up like so many others into the belly of this war. Scenes of cruelty and violence are juxtaposed with the narrator’s sweet memories and longings from simpler times, when her family was whole and loving and her world imperfect but full of possibility and happiness. Her life should have gone very differently. In another world, this would have been a love story, playing out to a backdrop of career success. But in this world, it’s a tale of loss, heartbreak, and massive civilian casualties. A very dark coming-of-age tale.
Three things particularly stood out to me about this book:
1- the history, of course. This is historical fiction done right, making full use of its setting and political background to deliver a plot that feels educational, but always personal and never textbook; I finished the read feeling more informed, but by no means exhausted on the topic. Luckily my copy included a lengthy list of further recommendations! I highly recommend checking out the extra content that may be included with your text if you pick this book up, I found the author’s note, interview, reading list, and discussion questions just as worthwhile as the story itself.
2- the 2nd person address: notoriously hard to pull off but endlessly impressive when it does land well. I don’t normally like being reminded that I’m reading while I am in fact reading, but it’s an effective move here. Our MC/narrator is using this story to explain what she’s witnessed in Sri Lanka and how her perspective of events differs from what is commonly portrayed by media and propoganda. She is very aware of whom she is explaining herself to, of whether that audience already understands certain facets of her experience and whether (or not) she actually owes the reader any sort of explanation at all. It keeps the uninformed reader humble without alienating those more knowledgeable, raising questions about why we read or believe the stories that we do, and reminding us that ours is never the only perspective.
3- the relevance of current events. Much in the same way that Prophet Song (Paul Lynch’s Booker winner for 2023) hit me hard last year, I think it is impossible to read a book today like Brotherless Night, very tied to it’s own place and time, and without seeing present-day echoes. Which is not to say that every conflict involving local terrorism and civilian casualties between government and militant groups is at all the same, but rather that in the intervening years (1980’s-now) we, as a world, should have learned to respond to such situations differently. Better. If there is a singular message to take away from Brotherless Night, I think it is that many of us CAN choose a different path, even if it is harder; we can do something else, we can do something more.
“You must understand: there is no single day on which a war begins. The conflict will collect around you gradually, the way carrion birds assemble around the vulnerable, until there are so many predators that the object of their hunger is not even visible. You will not even be able to see yourself in the gathering crowd of those who would kill you.”
My reaction: 5 out of 5 stars. Definitely check trigger warnings for this one, as it’s fraught with all sorts of peril, but I would highly recommend picking it up if you’re able. It’s an incredibly moving story of civilian strife and the strength of women in times of war, specifically the Sri Lankan civil war through the 1980s. I’m definitely adding further reading to my TBR thanks to Brotherless Night, and will be keeping an eye out for more work from Ganeshanathan as well; she does have one previous publication, Love Marriage, which I may also check out on the strength of her writing.
Happy International Women’s Day! What an appropriate day to (finally) formalize my Women’s Prize for fiction plans…
I’m aiming to read and review the full longlist this year! I’ve been toying with the idea for a few months but it was always dependent on seeing the list. There were a lot of big-name authors and previous nominees (who get a free pass into longlist considerations) with new work out this year, which left me a bit trepidatious about committing, but much to my delight the 2024 Women’s Prize for Fiction longlist contains a whole lot of new-to-me authors and titles! So I’m going in with very few preconceptions and a whole lot of willingness to follow the list where it leads and see where I end up.
Here’s where I stand so far:
I own and have read ONE of the 16 longlisted books, Chetna Maroo’s Western Lane, which I rated 5 stars when I read it for the Booker Prize list last year and am considering rereading in this context; it is super short and I did love it!
My library had ONE title available (and none through Libby, sob! I was really hoping getting into audiobooks last month was going to help me here but alas) and so I have checked out and am currently reading Brotherless Night by V. V. Ganeshenanthan, which is off to a great start.
A few books were already “officially” on my tbr and I’m thrilled at this push to pick them up soon: Enter Ghost by Isabella Hammad, The Wren The Wren by Anne Enright (from whom I did read a previous Women’s Prize nominee), and Soldier, Sailor by Claire Kilroy.
There are a couple titles I had vaguely heard of (though they weren’t technically on my tbr) and am also happy to be nudged into reading: Hangman by Maya Binyam, and Nightbloom by Peace Adzo Medie (who I’m ashamed to say has been waiting on my tbr with another title for a few years too many already!)
Perhaps the most exciting part of the list are the titles totally new to me that I’m pleased to be introduced to and very much looking forward to checking out now that I know of their existence: The Blue, Beautiful World by Karen Lord (I’ve been loving climate fic and am always happy to see a little genre fiction on this longlist!), In Defence of the Act by Effie Black,8 Lives of a Century-Old Trickster by Marinae Lee, Ordinary Human Failings by Megan Nolan, And Then She Fell by Alicia Elliott, and River East, River West by Aube Rey Lescure.
There are only a few on the list that I’d probably never have picked up otherwise, but luckily nothing this year that I’m strongly set against reading. These books might be a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I am hoping to be pleasantly surprised and have no reason to think I won’t be with: The Maiden by Kate Foster, A Trace of Sun by Pam Williams, and Restless Dolly Maunder by Kate Grenville.
Since I’d only read one of these books previously and only had one to check out at my library, I’m limited on availability and off to a bit of a slow start waiting on holds and orders to come in. But I think the timing looks pretty good for everything to come in before the shortlist announcement (April 24), and my goal is ultimately to read as many as possible before then and any left over at that point before the winner announcement (June 13) at the latest. With no audiobooks currently available and coming off of 3 years of struggling to read at my previous pace I am aware this is going to be a bigger challenge for me than in the past, but I’m optimistic atm and excited to give it a go!
Of the books that were eligible this year, I’m a little sad not to see Bright Young Women by Jessica Knoll, Come and Get It by Kiley Reid, or The Centre by Ayesha Manazir Siddiqi make the cut, all of which I read and appreciated and would love to see reaching a larger audience. I’m also sad not to see Land of Milk and Honey by C Pam Zhang or Vaster Wilds by Lauren Groff feature, for the selfish reason that I own both and am simply looking forward to reading them. I’ve also been dying to read Chlorine by Jade Song but don’t even have a copy yet and will read it anyway, so maybe for the best!
I’m somewhat surprised not to see Ann Patchett’s Tom Lake on the list (I’ve only read one of Patchett’s books previously and didn’t like it as much as I expected to so I’m hesitant to pick up more; I will, but this one just doesn’t sound like it’s going to be my jam!), nor Zadie Smith’s The Fraud (Smith always seems to be popular, and her work is actually a gap in my reading life I feel guilty about not having gotten around to yet, but I just am not sure from the sound of this one that it would be the right place for me to start), nor Jesmyn Ward’s Let Us Descend (fantastic author I’ve loved reading from before, though from the reviews I’m gathering this latest release just isn’t hitting quite as hard as some of her previous books!). These are perhaps the most notable omissions, and I’m sure they’re popular for a reason; I may even end up reading and enjoying them someday, but I had some mild dread about seeing them on this list and ultimately am glad the WP found some other great books to highlight this year.
How are you feeling about this year’s longlist? Any particular titles you’re planning to read or avoid, biggest surprise inclusions or exclusions? I want to hear everything!
Fun bookish development from February: I finally found a space in my life to fill with audiobooks! I’ve never had anything against them, they just didn’t seem to fit into my routine; BUT now that I’ve found my in and taken the steps to get started, I have been able to keep picking up audiobooks even in smaller moments that I thought wouldn’t be worth it on their own, and managed to read three extra books on top of my physical reading for Feb without feeling like it took extra effort to do so! I know I’ve just barely scratched the surface so far and am still experimenting with what works for me or not, but I wanted to share a bit about the audiobooks I’ve read so far and some thoughts on my reading journey.
First off… are audiobooks reading?
For me: YES. And no. Audiobooks are definitely books! I do think audiobooks are a valid way of experiencing a story and as such I’m marking them in my “completed reads” lists for the year. But to me listening is also a very different act than picking the words off the page (or screen) with my eyeballs and having to put all the interpretation and inflection into the text myself inside my own mind and at my own pace. I’m not getting as close of a look at the language or making note of as many direct quotes when listening, usually very important and active parts of “eyeball reading” for me. And my mind just doesn’t take in information that I hear in the same way that it processes information that I look at; I think about these books differently, spend more effort just following what’s going on and less on technical aspects of the book. So yes, I’m marking audiobooks as “read,” but I’m also marking them specifically as audio reads, because to me they count but they are different. (If you don’t note a difference that’s also perfectly valid! This is just where I’ve landed based on my limited experience.)
In some ways, I really appreciate the differences. I think audiobooks are unlocking for me some reading experiences that I might have missed out on or appreciated less my eyeballs; case in point, the first book I reached for on audio is a contemporary fiction story that leans more general/Women’s fiction than the sort of genre or literary fare that I usually reach for. Because the narration was excellent, and because I went in with different expectations for the experience than I would have when reading it physically, I am confident that listening is the factor that made this a truly fabulous read. The book:
Maame by Jessica George, read by Heather Agyepong.
My rating: 5 out of 5 stars.
I chose this novel through BOTM because it was an app I already had and knew my way around, and with a yearly subscription the monthly credits end up feeling free (girl/book math for the win!). I listened to over a dozen samples from available books I was already interested in reading, and this was the ONLY narrator I was confident wouldn’t be getting on my nerves in any way during the length of a full novel (about 10 hours).
This is the story of Maddie (called Maame by her mother) as she deals with caring for her father through advanced Parkinson’s disease and navigates changes in her personal life- from moving out of home for the first time, changing jobs, and trying out some new relationships (platonic and romantic) that do and don’t work out. As her family comes together as a result of her dad’s health struggles, cultural differences also become a point of contention as English-raised Maddie struggles to voice what she needs and isn’t getting from her Ghanaian family while also trying to honor her parents’ traditions and past. She’s lauded as a responsible and capable woman, but that label has also meant missing out on the support that she’s needed, the conflict at the heart of this novel.
It’s a fairly straightforward story dealing with grief, family strife, and cultural reckoning (including language barriers and racism), as a twenty-something woman comes of age and finds her way. It took me nearly a year to pick this book up because it delivers what’s expected of it; when I’m reading with my eyeballs I have less patience (perhaps because that method feels like more effort? It does take me more time), and I often need something unexpected to really hook me. But with my ears, this book felt pleasantly conversational, like Maddie was just a friend sharing her thoughts in real time as I dipped in and out of her life over the course of several days.
I found myself making excuses to be doing things that would enable me to keep listening. I felt Maddie’s joys and sorrows. Obvious “learning experiences” for the sake of character development and plot movement (doomed relationships, incidents at work, careless comments from family members) that would have frustrated me in a physical copy of the book (despite looking for it, I am always less impressed when I am able to spot the author’s hand) instead kept me riveted when listening; maybe it felt more personal and realistic hearing these moments voiced? As someone who’s spent years learning about craft and focusing on technical aspects when I’m reading, this audio let me go along for the ride in a way that I’ve missed for a long time with physical books. Perhaps this bodes well for my relationship with general contemporary fiction and other genres that I rarely reach for anymore, going forward.
With this in mind, I set up Libby so that I could use my library for further audio reads post-Maame; since I was still in audio trial mode, I surfed the “available now” samples for more books on my TBR list that I’d been intrigued by but had put off reading physically. After a lot more samples that were definitely not working for me (I think it’s less about the author’s voice and more about the level of energy and interpretation they bring to the read), I finally landed on:
Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds, read by the author. My rating: 4 out of 5 stars. This is a YA novel I’d been putting off because as the years pass that age range just challenges and resonates with me less. Still, sometimes I appreciate picking up a powerful or gripping YA novel that I know I would’ve loved if it had been available when I was younger.
This is the story of a Black teen who’s just witnessed the death of his older brother in a bout of street violence, and in accordance with “the rules” (of the streets), he seeks revenge. As he descends in his building’s elevator with his brother’s gun, intent of using it against the man he’s convinced was responsible, the elevator stops on every floor; each time the doors open he meets a dead person from his past with a bit of wisdom to impart.
In the years it’s taken me to actually read this book, I’d forgotten that the people our MC meets along this journey are dead (it’s in the synopsis, not a spoiler); ghosts don’t always work for me, especially when they conveniently arrive to tell someone something they need to know. For this reason I’m glad to have listened to this one rather than eyeball reading it, because in my own head the ghosts would’ve frustrated me more but in the author’s voice I found it easier to roll with the situation. It also packs a punch that a teen personally knows so many people who’ve died as a result of gun violence, a fact that speaks to the larger social issue at play here.
A major downside to this audio though is that this is apparently a novel in verse; I wouldn’t have known that from the audio if it hadn’t included a brief interview with the author at the end where this is mentioned. It was an impactful listen regardless, but verse also tends to be impressive visually and I’m sad I missed that.
This was a short read at just 2 hours of audio (including the interview), so I soon found myself searching for another book, which led me to:
You Made a Fool of Death With Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi, narrated by Bahni Turpin.My reaction: 5 out of 5 stars. One scene toward the end of Maame left me pretty convinced that listening to romance was not going to work for me, but I’d seen a lot of reviews claiming that this one didn’t really fit the romance category. Furthermore, Emezi has been a consistent 5-star author for me in the past with their novels Freshwater and Pet, and even The Death of Viviek Oji landed at a 4 for me so I decided to give this one a go. And honestly, this might actually turn out to be one of my top reads of the year!
I’d call this perhaps a literary romance; for me it does still hit a lot of the main beats I expect in a romance novel- a meeting of the love interest, some steam, some fluctuation of whether or not the pair want to be together, whether or not they can make it work even if they do want it. But the biggest reasons I often dislike romance novels- overabundance of tropes, predictability, lack of realism, the ups and downs of the relationship feeling like deliberate plot devices- were nowhere to be found here. This plot was a total surprise- our MC meets three men she’s sexually interested in and it’s not until at least halfway through the book that we begin to see which one is endgame in this romance. Even then, it’s such an unconventional relationship that the doubt over whether it will actually happen and the obstacles in the way feel very real, the stakes genuinely high rather than manufactured for angst.
This is also very much a book about grief and dealing with trauma, as the MC’s husband previously died in a tragic accident, and five years later (at the start of this book) she is just beginning to wonder whether life holds more love for her at all. The love interest also has a tragedy in his past, and much of their relationship revolves around just being present and supportive for each other in a way that I appreciate perhaps even more than the steam. Which isn’t to say the sexual tension is lacking or that there’s no physical relationship being explored here, just that those elements are small pieces of this larger relationship. I loved the balance.
Even beyond the main couple, our MC’s experiences with the other men of this story have some important things to say about dating and relationships; it felt so empowering to see her hold her men to their “just as friends” claims by taking them up on offers extended without feeling pressured to bestow the “more” they clearly expect in return- she’s open and honest about where she stands and makes her own choices without perpetuating the myth that women owe men for any kindness shown. The dynamics are challenging and raw, the themes heavy, and the content managed to challenge some of my own preconceptions (age-gap relationships, for one) in ways I’ll not soon be forgetting. Managing to do that while also giving some warm and fuzzy feelings that didn’t make me cringe on audio? Truly iconic.
The narration itself felt very good here; Turpin does a bit of voicework to help differentiate the characters, which was subtle enough to enhance the dialogue without ever becoming annoying. In fact, while I do think I want to acquire a physical copy and read this one again at some point, I know some of these characters just won’t be the same without Turpin’s voice to guide them.
By the end of my third audiobook, I think I’ve settled on 1.5x being a pretty comfortable average listening speed for me. I started Maame at 1x but that didn’t last long; I listened to Long Way Down at 2x, perhaps because it felt easier to catch everything in a YA book, but with room for adjustment either way 1.5x seems like it will be a good starting point for me going forward.
Final thoughts: the worst part of this all so far has just been combing through audio samples to find narrators I really like listening to; seasoned audio readers, is this a me problem, do I need to just turn off the pickiness and adapt, or does it get better with time?? And do you have particular content/genres that you gravitate toward or avoid with audio vs. physical reading? I think I might but am still exploring! I’d love to hear how y’all decide what to listen to.
Aside from navigating some of these new (to me) issues, I’ve loved my audio experience so far! I find it easier to dip in and out of the reads than I expected to, and the narrators that I’ve chosen so far have really brought something extra to each experience. As I think every audio reader has ever said, audiobooks are a game-changer for fitting more reading in without really sacrificing time needed for anything else. There are still moments I find myself with busy hands and idle mind when I choose not to turn on an audiobook, because sometimes (especially outdoor walks for me) I find such tasks a good opportunity to brainstorm and troubleshoot for my own WIPs. This probably won’t change, but even if audios only increase my reading by 3 books per month, that can make a huge difference over the span of a year!
Currently (audio) reading: Pageboy by Elliot Page, read by the author.
For my next color tbr set (I’m catching up from 2023; previous sets featured icy blues, sweet purples, and Women’s Prize contenders). With this batch I wanted to add some horror and thrills to my summer reading and went with a dark blue stormy cover vibe. The books:
Vampires of El Norte by Isabel Cañas is the latest offering from the author of The Hacienda, which ranked among my favorite reads of 2022. Although neither have quite landed in the 5-star range for me, and even though this sophomore title didn’t impress me quite as much asCañas’ debut, I adore this author’s work and always have a great time reading her stories.
In this book we follow two primary characters, reading from both of their POV’s; the book opens with these young (and infatuated) friends out late in northern Mexico 1840s, when they come across their first vampire in the dark of the evening. The girl is injured during this encounter, and the young man carries her home, believing her dead. Heartbroken and blaming himself, he leaves. Several years later, as a local militia force is being assembled by the area’s rancheros to deal with the threat of encroaching American soldiers, the young man returns to lend his support for family and friends left behind and the couple meet again, brushing once more with vampires as they rediscover each other.
There’s a lot to love here between the appreciation for Mexican culture, the historical record of conflict at the US/Mexico border, the vampirical horror element which appeals both as literal creature horror and also plays into a larger theme of American nefariousness against their southern neighbor. The only thing that didn’t work for me was the level of romance involved and the structuring of the story around that relationship. Tbf, a romance horror novel sounds fabulous to me, and I love this one in concept; and yet as much as I enjoyed these characters I needed way less explanation of their very obvious feelings for each other and at the same time wanted way more of the very intriguing vampires. A single POV might have helped the balance, eliminating repetition while still conveying all of the pertinent information through the characters’ interactions and dialogue. Even so, the dual perspectives only slowed the read a bit for me rather than detracting from any of the other elements the book does handle well. I wish I could say more about the excellent commentary around the vampires, but don’t want to give away too much about how they fit into this tale. You’ll have to read for yourself to see!
“They were not a mirage, not a shard of terror that slipped from unconscious memory into daylight among the horror of the battlefield. / They were real.”
My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. I will continue to pick up anything Cañas publishes, her ideas are fantastic and the writing skill is definitely there. I think the main reason The Hacienda worked better for me is that the romance is still there, but one of that pair is a kindly priest and so the relationship is forbidden; more understated angst, less in-your-face wish-fulfilment is a better vibe for me, though I think readers more into traditional romance will like Vampires better!
The Woman in the Window by A. J. Finn is old news at this point; I borrowed it years ago in an effort to resist buying a copy out of morbid curiosity, and the news of a new A.J. Finn novel on the horizon *finally* led me to pick this one up. Though sadly, it didn’t help me determine whether to read more from the author!
This is the tale of an agoraphobic woman who, due to a trauma in her past, no longer feels safe leaving her house. She begins spying on her neighbors out of a sort of social curiosity, and in this way witnesses what appears to be the murder of a woman who’s just moved onto the street with her family. Our MC’s drinking and medicating habits, along with the fact that no evidence of a crime can be found, mean that her police report of the murder is not believed. She begins to seek answers of her own, while also doubting whether she can trust her own memories and inferences.
In all fairness, I’m not sure the unreliable woman mixing copious amounts of drugs and alcohol was ever going to work for me again after The Girl on the Train, and I did take a long time getting around to The Woman in the Window, neither of which factors are the fault of this book. Beyond that, the The Woman in the Window just felt a bit long and tame; I thought it did a decent job of handling the MC’s trauma and response, though those feel like little more than plot devices here. I was also a bit disappointed to have expected a thriller and found more of a mystery. An adequate mystery, but very low in tension until the final confrontation scene. Ultimately I think the hype around this one was The Woman in the Window’s worst enemy; it may not be the pinnacle of suspense, but is reasonably entertaining if you’re drawn to the premise. If it’s a jaw-dropping read you’re looking for though, check out the New Yorker article on A.J. Finn that came out around the time of this novel, that still has me shook.
“I move forward, just a small step, but everyone else retreats, as though I’m an approaching storm, as though I’m a predator. Good.”
My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. I also watched the film adaptation and the parody mini-series with my mom after reading this book (I borrowed it from her) and we were not particularly impressed by any of them but enjoyed the experience overall. A reasonably fun, silly little adventure, and to Finn’s credit the story was very readable and easy to follow even without feeling particularly invested.
Daisy Darker by Alice Feeney was my first time trying this author’s work and most likely my last. I always want to love closed-room mysteries, and popular authors seem like a safe bet, but this one grated. I was lucky to have borrowed this one from a friend, though sad I didn’t get on with it as well as she did.
In this story, a family matriarch who owns a grand seaside house invites her children and grandchildren to a will-reading dinner, as she expects to die within the year. In fact she dies sooner than expected, and the family realizes as a storm rolls in and they’re unable to leave the property until the tide changes in the morning that there’s a murderer in their midst. As they gather to keep track of each other through the night, family members continue to die off one per hour. The killer is also leaving old family VHS tapes for the survivors to watch and remember their troubled history together which, along with the dwindling suspect pool, eventually points to the truth.
It’s possible that the aggravating writing here is intentional, as the main character is an antagonistic, self-absorbed young person and it would make sense for the writing to reflect that. However, young and unlikeable characters can be written in ways that keep the read engaging and fun, rather than overly simplistic. Characterization is done through broad generalizations and assumptions of what people are like (or should be like) rather than through plot or actions or dialogue; the setup and execution are timed and theatrical in ways that defy belief; everyone is toxic and unpleasant and caricature-like to the point where it’s hard to care who’s dying or why. If it’s ever hard to guess what’s going on, it’s because the answers are so obvious that the clues seem like red herrings. It feels lazy. It feels, unfortunately, like a decent story idea that just hasn’t been honed to the level of sharpness needed to land effectively.
“The unexplored oceans of our hearts and minds are normally the result of a lack of time and trust in the dreams we dreamed as children. But adults forget how to believe that their dreams might still come true.”
My reaction: 2 out of 5 stars. For me, a two-star generally means I was able to finish but really did not enjoy myself or feel I was getting much of anything worthwhile out of the read. And yet, there’s nothing egregiously wrong with the book despite it not being to my taste; while a 1-star is something I feel is actively harmful and I would advise readers away from, a two-star read, however much I might dislike it personally, I can still see other readers with different tastes being able to enjoy, and I hope those readers will find this book. My best guess for Daisy Darker would be maybe young readers looking to branch out of YA into more adult themes with easy-to-understand writing, the sorts of young readers who reach for Stephen King perhaps?
Revival by Stephen King was the next step on my journey toward reading all of King’s work (I will explain this in more depth and do something fun with it someday, but for now I’m just trudging on when the mood strikes).
This is the story of a man’s life, from his early 1960s childhood through the 2010s. Throughout this period, his path crosses thrice with that of a young reverend who arrives in town in the 60s, meets with tragedy, and follows a passion for electricity down an unexpected and dangerous path as a sort of alternative career.
There are three key elements to this book that work in concert to make it what it is; two I enjoyed, and one I did not. The element I didn’t enjoy was the MC’s career as a musician; he begins as a rhythm guitarist in the 70s, plays for several bands over the years and achieves reasonable fame, falls victim to the alcohol/drug/party scene and eventually goes on to work at a recording studio when he feels his rockstar youth is behind him. It’s a tired trajectory that glorifies this sort of toxic fame rather than digging into any of the negatives as other modern works manage better (Daisy Jones being the most obvious, though The Dirt covering Motley Crue is an especially ingenious member of this category imo, as it manages both to feel like it caters to the band members’ biased perspectives while also conveying a distinctly critical tone to the discerning reader). I was disappointed but willing to follow along without complaint until a line where the aging musician thinks about a much younger woman he’s sleeping with and says, “If it’s ridiculous for a man in his fifties to be playing bedroom games with a woman young enough to be his daughter, it’s just as ridiculous for him to be playing a Strat and high-stepping to ‘Dirty Water.'” I’m sorry, but there is nothing sensical about the implications that those two behaviors should have anything at all to do with each other, and if for any reason age should apply there, I’d be much less concerned about an older man performing on stage than sleeping around with someone he’s thinking about that way.
But there were two elements I got on with a lot better, equally entwined in Revival‘s plot: religion, and electricity. This is where the horror comes in. The main conflict arrives early in the book, as the young reverend experiences a devastating tragedy and can’t cope. His faith in God is replaced by a passion for electricity and a belief that there is a “secret electricity” that he can learn to tap into, a current which holds the keys to unlocking the barrier between life and death; after losing his job the reverend takes his preaching to the road, making a quick buck off of religious-revival-style magical electrical shows the same way he used to sell God to believers in his sermons. “I shook my head, smiling. ‘You went from preaching to huckstering.'” Even the reverend has to acknowledge that maybe there isn’t much of a difference between the two. There’s some real criticism of organized religion in this book that I highly enjoyed and appreciated, and it’s handled in a skillful way in which believers can read it as blasphemy coming from an evil character, or nonbelievers can read as reason to trust the villain’s intelligence, both options potentially adding to the horror of the situation for their respective audiences. The horror itself is on-brand for King, though ultimately there are other books from his oeuvre I’d recommend above this one.
“Some of these various sects and denominations are peaceful, but the largest of them- the most successful of them- have been built on the blood, bones, and screams of those who have the effrontery now to bow to their idea of God. The Romans fed Christians to the lions; the Christians dismembered those they deemed to be heretics or sorcerers or witches; Hitler sacrificed the Jews in their millions to the false god of racial purity. Millions have been burned, shot, hung, racked, poisoned, electrocuted, and torn to pieces by dogs… all in God’s name.”
My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. This was pretty middle-of-the-road King fare for me that I probably wouldn’t recommend beyond established King fans who are looking for decent offerings after exhausting his popular classics, with the exception perhaps of anyone drawn to the musical/70s nostalgia portion of the premise.
The Trial of Lizzie Borden by Cara Robertson is a non-fiction journalistic history book following, as suggested, the trial of Lizzie Borden. In 1890s Fall River, Massachusetts, Borden was accused and tried for the horrific murder (by axe) of her parents.
This is a great informative book for someone like me who’s heard references to Borden and her potential criminality for years but missed some of the context. It’s a thorough assembly of details from the trial, including evidence considered, arguments made, notes on everyone in attendance, and some background information on Borden, her family, their standing in town, and the aftermath. Robertson does not attempt to “get inside” of Borden’s head or try to convince the reader of anything beyond the collected facts; she simply lays out the evidence without passing on any assumptions and does not try to sway the reader’s verdict. Borden’s guilt/innocence is a topic most who’ve heard the story have some sort of personal opinion on; despite a verdict being given at the end of her trial it remains (as it was at the time), a popular and divisive case.
“Joe Howard was harsher in his assessment of the police: ‘Of course he was certain about it; they all are. There hasn’t been an officer on the stand who has not been absolutely confident, nor has there been one who has not been flatly contradicted by one of his associates.'”
Perhaps what’s most interesting here is the fact that there hasn’t been concrete evidence of Borden’s guilt or innocence, then or now. Murder weapons were hypothesized but never entirely confirmed or ruled out, no one saw Borden commit the crimes nor did anyone see another person enter the house. The case against her largely boils down to the fact that no other suspect can be produced, while the case for her boils down to the lack of evidence on her person or in the house of having committed multiple murders. There are a few interesting “gotcha” reveals during the trial, and it’s also interesting to see what a US trial looked like during this time period, so I found it an engaging read all the way through, if a bit dry.
My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. A murder mystery for the ages. Glad I picked this one up, and I would recommend Agatha Christie fans look into this one, if you don’t mind having to fill in the blanks to reach your own conclusions!
The Waste Lands by Stephen King is the third book in King’s Dark Tower fantasy series, which I am slowly buddy reading with a friend. Fortunately, each volume has worked a little better for me than the last.
In this book, our MC (Roland) and crew have left the beach where they met in the previous volume and begin here by spending some time recuperating at their leisure in a pleasant valley. Of course that doesn’t last; a new monster (surprisingly mechanical in nature this time) appears, and their route forward is found; they will follow the Beam toward the Tower. Along this journey they encounter some dying relics from Roland’s world, including a small, suspicious township and a large, warring city in its final stages of decay. In order to escape certain doom as the city destructs, they must befriend a sentient, diabolical train who enjoys riddles.
This series is still a little too episodic for my taste, though the episodes themselves are becoming somewhat more interesting. The dregs of civilization left in the dying town and city here are particularly helpful in gaining some much-needed context for this world at last, though we’re still left with many questions, which is becoming a point of frustration for me this far into the series despite my quest for answers also being the key driving force in continuing the read, so- I have mixed feelings. I found the plethora of riddles a bit tiresome in this volume, and the increasing level of coincidence in how our heroes discover things and escape certain death are starting to strain my ability to suspend disbelief. I don’t like seeing the author’s hand when reading. But overall I had a lot less to complain about this time around than with the previous books, so there’s that.
“He knew instinctively, without even thinking about it, that this tunnel (which had to be at least seventy feet under Lud) also followed the path of the Beam. And somewhere up ahead- Jake was sure of this, although he couldn’t have said why- the train they had come looking for lay directly above it.”
My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. Don’t be fooled by the middling review, this has been my best time with a Dark Tower novel yet lol! Luckily I’m a patient reader and having a fun time dissecting these books with my buddy reader because it’s been a slow journey toward actual enjoyment here. But I’ve also started the fourth volume by now as well (just waiting on my buddy to find time for a 900+ page novel) and it seems the upward trend has a strong chance of continuing. Hopefully in the end it’ll pay off, we’ll see.
Final thoughts: I went in looking for storms, and these books DELIVERED. Every single one of these books featured a storm, often as crucial parts of the narrative. This was the clearest through-line I found with my color tbrs, something every single book of the set had in common without my explicitly seeking that content; some of these covers definitely suggested storms, but The Woman in the Window and The Trial of Lizzie Borden especially surprised me by sticking to that trend even with rather plain-looking covers, no storm clouds in sight. And of course, literal storms are a popular way for fiction writers to convey tension hanging over their characters without specifically stating those factors, so beneath the literal storms ran plenty of emotional turbulence for all of these characters as well. I had a pretty low average rating with this set, but the overall vibe really pulled it all together and kept the experience fun even as individual titles missed the mark. The vibe:
“The clouds beat a steady march west across the sky, their color shifting deeper and deeper as thunder rumbled its threats in the distance. The smell of the storm nipped at their heels; humidity built until it was close to breaking, heavy and rank on their skin as the breath of a predator.” –Vampires of El Norte
Have you read any of these? Any dark and tempestuous books you’d add to the ranks?
Conquering the world of literature, one book at a time
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