Amanda
When I found out a theater in Madison, Wisconsin was presenting the world premiere stage adaptation of Ms. Celello's novel, I was encouraged to read the book first before seeing the play.
I'm so glad I did.
Learning to Stay (also set mostly in Madison, Wisconsin) centers on Elise, a 30-something lawyer on the fast track to partnership, is excited for her husband's return from Iraq so the two of them can finally start their own family. However, when her husband Brad returns, it becomes clear that he is suffering from PTSD. Celello's novel boldly asks the question: what does for better or worse mean?
I greatly enjoyed Celello's writing style, and was empathetic to protagonist Elise several times, whether it was her desire to have a baby, her deep love for her husband, her confused feelings for a co-worker, or her heartbreaking lament over whether or not she should leave her husband. Despite the story being a work of fiction (partly inspired by Celello's years of working for the governor and attending military funerals and meeting service members' families), Celello makes you resonate with Elise and her story is Celello's strength in this novel.
I also appreciate the topic Celello chooses to cover, which is that of how military spouses deal with the aftermath and after effects of war and PTSD. The more conversation that can be had, the better chance we have at helping those in need.
Overall, highly recommend to anyone looking for the following:
-Military spouse/military family stories
-Husband/wife, relationship stories
-Madison/Wisconsin authors
-PTSD/after-war stories
I'd love to give this book a 3.5 rating.
I listened to the audio version, which made me laugh out loud. I loved getting to know Tina Fey—as a person, a writer, a producer, and a mother. It was an enjoyable listen.
That said, it is apparent a few times this book is from 2011. Some jokes and comments haven't aged the best, like certain SNL sketches or episodes of 30 Rock.
Overall, I was pleased with this book (I borrowed the audiobook from the library) and think audiobooks are a great approach to reading books by comedians, especially. I liked it enough that I would love another book by Fey, picking up where she left off.
While the story structure and intermingling of the characters may cause confusion, I found it unique (I also had seen the film first, which gave me a great point of reference for the book as far as the characters). Overall I enjoyed the book much like I enjoyed the movie counterpart. Great stories of strong women that give an interesting and intimate look into Chinese culture.
Consider reading if looking for the following:
book-to-movie worksstories of strong women
Chinese/American storiesChinese/American authors
I'm torn on this one. I really wanted to like it, because it had a lot of elements I enjoy—the movie industry, mermaids, and a fun approach to writing (in this case, a book within a book).
It was a lot of fun ideas. In fact, probably too many fun ideas. Some were executed well, others notsomuch. Personally, I wish the author would have decided to choose one or two and focused on them, instead of weaving thru several plot lines (many of which are dropped and don't come to any sort of conclusion).
It started as a fun summer read. I really enjoyed the first half of the book, but then it slowly became more of slog. The clever descriptions and word play became exhausting to read and lead to more stumbling over, and the characters grew increasingly unlikeable (Including several, uncomfortable observations regarding minor children's bodies during puberty and the teen years).
Towards the end the idea of completing the book wasn't for a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, but more an urgency to move onto my next read.
That all said—it's a unique read that doesn't quite fit any genre perfectly. Worth checking out
DNF—the section that objectified women's breasts as a way to restore balance of power within the marriage was enough for me to not want to continue reading.
Perhaps I will revisit this book again—but I doubt it will change the rating of this review.
This is the first book this year that has moved me, that has made me emotional enough to cry.
This is a beautiful book, featuring a story-in-verse (something as a child I didn't like, as an adult it's something I appreciate and admire), about sisterhood, growing pains, and grief.
I love how Acevedo's words flowed seamlessly on the pages, smooth like gentle waves of the sea. I love how distinctive yet similar her two leads were to one other, and how she gave equal attention to their hurt, their passions, their fears, their anger, and their courage.
I love how this book grew out of a world that forgot a tragedy that happened shortly after 9/11, and how this book features a queer person of color (a timely read for the month of June), without making their identity the sole focus of their purpose in the tale, and instead allowing them to exist and be and love and grieve and dream just like any other protagonist.
I loved learning about a culture I had previously little knowledge of, and how this novel left me feeling both grateful and guilty for all the times I may have complained about life here, knowing privilege in ways I never realized.
Finally, I love Yahaira and Camino, and I couldn't help but smile as I closed the book, and hope and wishing and pray that their stories continue, their dreams come true, and that they will always land wherever life takes them.
***
I definitely recommend this book to folx seeking stories about BIPOC by BIPOC authors, how one navigates grief, or are curious and want to introduce themselves to the culture of the Dominican Republic.
A friend recommended GEISHA, A LIFE to me, and shared the history of how it came into being. Forever fascinated by Asian culture and literature, it took very little to convince me to read it. I personally loved reading about Ms. Iwasaki's life, and gaining an extremely detailed and vivid insight into the true world of being a geisha. It has only further cemented my desire to travel to Japan one day, and has helped me gain a whole new appreciation and respect for the beautiful traditions of Kyoto and Japan.
Visually stunning and tasty, Martel has a strong handle on how to craft delectable prose. Vivid details regarding some of the more violent sections were so easily pictured I found my stomach churning as if I was with Pi on the sea. The book was a beautiful blend of the mesmerizing fantasy of being lost at sea and the depressing elements of what that reality would look like. (Possible poilers ahead) My biggest frustration regards the ending. As a writer, I can appreciate it. As a reader, it took the wind out of my sails a bit, and a book that had made me hopeful and thirsty for adventure instead left me with a bittersweet after-taste in my mouth. However, I'm still thinking about the book, which to me is a sign that was, indeed, a quality literary work.
Judy Blume has a way of weaving her stories together that while I could predict where the story would ultimately end, I was surprised by the twists and turns along the way. Furthermore, she truly captures the awkwardness and silliness and beauty of first love in our youth. And while the book is from the mid 70s, the message of how impactful sex can be, the importance of saying no, and how messy first love can be stands the test of time. I also applaud Blume for tying sex education into the plot, and while as an adult I can clearly see what she is doing and why, I can appreciate the information she is sharing with her target audience. She doesn't shy away from the terminology, she instead embraces it and talks about it as a normal part of life, like we all should.
This was book was written three years ago, but it could have easily been written and published this year, in the past month. That's how (unfortunately) relevant its story has remained.
Starr is a Black high school student caught between two worlds: Garden Heights, a neighborhood where everybody knows and helps everyone out and has each others' backs, but is also riddled with drug dealing and gang wars; and Williamson Prep, a private high school in a rich, mostly white area of town with ignorance of what she experiences on a day-to-day basis at home.
Her worlds collide when she witnesses first-hand the murder of her childhood friend during a supposed routine traffic stop, and Starr has to not only decide whether or not she should speak up (speaking up could mean justice, but it could also endanger her and her family's life), but how to navigate everything in her world that is now different: her friendships in both worlds, her dynamic with her uncle who is also a Black police officer, her relationship with her white boyfriend, and her life both at school and at home.
Thomas' does an excellent job of weaving in common asked questions and arguments that surface whenever there is another instance of police brutality within the story itself, and it's in a way that's direct and to-the-point without taking attention away from the story at-hand. I also appreciate her inclusion of a diverse range of characters with varying viewpoints, and the special attention and care she took with her character's' names.
As a 30-year-old white woman, I can't express how much I appreciate this book. It is geared towards younger/teen readers (I admit—I had to Google a few terms, making me sometimes relate more with Starr's parents who ask what a Tik Tok is than Starr herself ;) but it's got a message for everyone, that everyone needs to—and should—hear.
I strongly recommend it to anyone interested in challenging their own biases and/or looking for books featuring BIPOC protagonists by BIPOC authors.
If there is one take away from this book, it's that Ray Bradbury has turned a fictional novel into decadent, rich poetry. At times too rich, like a dessert you should stop eating after a couple of bites but don't, this book reels you in back for more. This book doesn't pretend to be anything than what it is, a beautifully told, thrill-seeking tale surrounding the ordinary friendship of two boys teetering into adulthood and the lives of a sleepy small town on the verge of something extraordinary and peculiar. After a slew of non-fiction and other appropriate adult nonsense, SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES was a welcome, pleasant, and devouring read. My first exposure to Bradbury, I must say it was fantastically enjoyable.
I am a fan of the 2001 film based on this book starring Renee Zellweger, Hugh Grant, and Colin Firth, so naturally I was drawn to reading the book that started it all. Aside from not being able to relate completely to Bridget's weight loss woes (in either book or her movie counterpart - I would give anything to weigh between 120-135 pounds!) it was a quick and entertaining read.
No surprise, the book reads just like a diary: complete with dates and times and crossed out lines and emotional, post-2 AM-drunken entries agonizing one's love life.
For me, I found myself both absolutely frustrated with Bridget - only to turn the page and discover that sometimes, yes - I am just as silly and hot-tempered and fickle. My favorite element was the constant throwback to New Year's resolutions (and the difficulty in keeping them), which makes this a timely book for the end of the year around the holidays.
Overall, I am more likely to re-watch the movie again before re-reading the book, however I am appreciative of having a better understanding of Bridget because of this darling little book.
THE MAN IN THE HIGH CASTLE show on Amazon Prime made me want to check out the book on which it is based. The concept—an alternate reality where Nazi Germany and Japan won the Second World War—is incredibly fascinating and I wanted to gain further insight into this world and read the details the television show missed, as screen adaptations are wont to do.
Unfortunately, while the book started strong, giving the reader a more comprehensive view of this alternate universe, it lacked conflict and any major plot developments. Its characters—many familiar favorites from the series, such as Frank, Ed, Childan, Tagomi, Juliana and Joe—mainly wander from situation to situation, and simply exist in this world. There is no character growth, and where novels most often include a beginning, a middle and an end, this book seemed to end with events where most other books would be only half way completed.
Furthermore, the book is clearly an artifact of its time (first published in 1962), which is evident by its racist and sexist texts. Hiding behind a character who is a Nazi does not excuse gratuitous and offensive racism, and there are plenty of other ways to describe female characters that don't rely on their breasts' physical attributes (really—did we need a whole paragraph dedicated to our lead female's struggle with how to wear a new dress while lacking the correct undergarments and her worry of going without due to her “mature, size 38 bust”?)
If Phillip K. Dick (aptly named) had spent more time creating a legitimate story with actual conflict and crafting his world with detail than waxing on poetic about Juliana's beauty, bedroom antics, or breast size, we may have been gifted with a true treasure of a novel.
Instead, despite a highly disappointing series finale, I find myself amazed that the televised adaptation has more character development, conflict-driven plot, and overall is objectively superior to its source material.
The myth that the book is always better is debunked, and we have Mr. Dick to thank for that.
The story was a bit haphazard and disjointed, but then again, it's reflective of how life often is. I enjoyed the protagonist - Sasha - her unique stories (her beginnings in Serbia, her brief encounter as a mother, her mail-order bride escape to the states, and her round-a-bout way of finding her father, true love, and friendship). My favorite takeaway from this novel however is the beautiful way Anya Ulinich describes everything - from the world to emotions. Her descriptions are richly written, and are the type of descriptions I am envious of as a writer. I recommend this one if you are interested in learning about Russian culture and/or fictional memoirs about the immigrant experience in the states.
My biggest takeaway from STATION ELEVEN was my constant reflection of the world Ms. Mandel crafts: a future landscape lacking electricity, air travel, the Internet, Starbucks, social media, monetary exchange, and a plethora of 21st-century commodities we take for granted every day. For the world existed without the aforementioned distractions for years, however, to remember a world where they were present yet have disappeared, thanks to a rings-far-too-true, too-soon flu outbreak, was eerie, stirring, and haunting. The tiniest details had me questioning if I would have-could have-survived in such a desolate, survivalistic society, without the aide of modern medicine for mental and physical health ailments, without helpful skill-sets many craft in their childhood due to Scouts or Brownies, without knowing what my loved ones were up to or were they were or what had been their ultimate fate. Upon closing this book, spending the evening grateful for the tiniest of treasures and the simplest of blessings.
With that said, this lovely quick read is not without its flaws. Storylines weave together, with strands forgotten, left out, or left behind. The style of writing is at times imagined, and at other times, for lack of a better term, basic and simple. As with any novel, cliches are littered throughout, scenes with low stakes seem climactic while scenes with everything on the line left me with an unsatisfied “that's...it?” The twist and turns of the story didn't lead to anything surprising–early on I had figured out quite a few of the later revealed surprises with careful reading–with certain elements being dragged out too long or referenced too often, all leading to an ending that was both stretched out and abrupt, and seemingly unfinished.
But with all that said, I'd be lying if I said I didn't like that book. I did. I enjoyed it, in the way that people enjoy movies that will never win Oscars. At the very least, it was a great way to spend a couple of afternoons, and Ms. Martel shows incredible promise as a writer.
“The past is obdurate.”
^^^if this phrase and word had showed up far less, I think four stars would have been in order.
My first time reading Stephen King, and there is no denial the man has talent. For 800+ pages, I flew thru reading it (read the first half in January, the second half in April), and it was a fun ride. And the fact I was still engaged—even after seeing the television adaptation first and knowing what happens—are points to King's work.
I will also say reading the notes at the very end, where King explains he had this idea back in 1972 and the research he did, made me respect him more as a writer and this story.
(Fun fact: I had a similar idea to 11-22-63 in high school or college, but stopped all work when 11-22-63 was published. I'm probably not the only one, and I'm also not a career novelist like King. Far from it. :)
That all said—I opted for three stars because the pacing was uneven (chapters upon chapters on tumbles in the sheets with Sadie, less than a chapter on the alternative world of 2011?) and it's overall redundancy (I think the story would have been stronger had it been cut down). And—I'm not the biggest fan of how King writes women characters, at least in this work. I liked Sadie, and was thrilled when she gained more agency towards the end, but I wanted to see even more for her and from her. Less focus on her beauty, her clumsiness (a trope), her virginity-turned-quick-study-in-the-bedroom, her vulnerable innocence—and more time spent on her dreams and ambitions beyond Jake. My favorite moments of Sadie are the day-of the assassination, when she's pushing the action forward because Jake can't do it on his own. I wanted even more of that.
All that said: I love time travel, I love history (and period fiction), I love disassembling conspiracy stories and I love books that offer an escape from the present world. If you love all that in your literature, I recommend this title.