Judging books by their samples Round 2

I recently rediscovered a list I had made last year while on a trip to Jordan. During my long plane flights and layovers, and in my downtime while in Jordan, I read book samples on my Kindle and wrote down quick thoughts on each. This was not the first time I have done this sort of sample blitz. I’m listing them in the order that I read the samples and including the stars that I had placed on the samples that most caught my attention last year. As you will see, I struck out for a while but then hit a good streak.

Jane Steele by Lyndsay Faye – actual quote from my list “nopety nope.” I was not a fan of the style and I wasn’t getting on board with a serial murderer as a protagonist.

A Killing in the Hills (Bell Elkins #1) by Julia Keller – the prologue didn’t excite me, but I became intrigued by the initial crime that kicks-off the narrative and the main character’s response to it. Set in West Virginia.

Blind Your Ponies by Stanley Gordon West – From what I read, the book seemed to be shaping up to how a ragtag HS basketball team brings together various members of a depressed Montana town. The adults’ backstories provided were quite bleak, but I liked the kid. Not in a rush to read this one, but it’s still on my to-read list.

The Chateau by William Maxwell – A 1961 novel that starts off with a young American couple arriving in post-WWII France. I liked the details of their journey as they bumbled about and I felt that I would like this book, as long as I was in the right mood for it.

Frances and Bernard by Carlene Bauer – an epistolary novel about two artists who develop a friendship through their letters. The writing style and subject matter is not my usual fare, but I think I would like it overall.

Solar Storms by Linda Hogan – I read the sample without refreshing on the synopsis, and was really confused about what was going on. (Goodreads synopsis: “At seventeen, Angela returns to the place where she was raised—a stunning island town that lies at the border of Canada and Minnesota—where she finds that an eager developer is planning a hydroelectric dam that will leave sacred land flooded and abandoned.”) I think it will be worth giving it more of a try.

Sugar by Bernice McFadden – The novel sets the scene with a depiction of a small gossipy Southern town and I did not like it. For whatever reason, I was/am feeling tired of the small gossipy Southern town in fiction. Not for me.

Infandous by Elana K. Arnold – Prologue was a Grimm fairy tale. Narrator was a cynical young adult, and the narration felt like it tried too hard. That can happen with beginnings of books, though, and may settle out. I could see picking this up and reading further than the sample went, to see if it was for me.

Faith by Jennifer Haigh – Irish-American family saga. Didn’t feel fresh to me.

A Brief History of Montmaray – in a world where Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle exists, this novel felt quite unnecessary

Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson – I enjoy the covers of Jenny Lawson’s books. I didn’t enjoy the writing style.

How to be a Woman by Caitlin Moran – Not for me

The Year of the Gadfly by Jennifer Miller – a YA boarding school story. Not for me.

*Conquistador by S. M. Stirling – I was impressed by the sample, which sets up an intriguing time-travel premise. I later picked up the book from the library and soon found that the story itself had some insufferable bits (like one of the main characters) and I abandoned it.

Fifteen Dogs by Andre Alexis – The premise of this book is fifteen dogs overnighting at a vet clinic given human consciousness by the gods. The sample didn’t take me much beyond that premise, so I still remain intrigued by the premise but not sure where it will take me.

*Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coelho – I liked the writing and specificity displayed in the sample quite a bit. I’ve never read anything by Coelho.

The Last Town on Earth by Thomas Mullen – Book is about a Pacific NW town that quarantines itself during the 1918 flu epidemic. I was liking the historical aspect but feeling like the characters weren’t quite popping on the page.

Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts – All the Mumbai setting details were interesting, and the characters too. The main character’s instalove thing with a girl he meets sounded a small alarm in my mind, but I’d have to see how it plays out.

*Dying to Live by Kim Paffenroth – Enjoyed the first-person narration of this zombie novel. Seemed like it would be a fun read

*The Chaperone by Laura Moriarty – After being cooped up in the car together, my family spread out for some solitary time at the Shobak crusader-era castle in Jordan. I brought my Kindle and this is the sample I read in the castle ruins. (Later my sisters and I traveled down a ‘secret’ very worn stairway from the castle to the bottom of the hill, with only the light of my cell phone to show the way.) The story’s initial setting – 1920’s Wichita, Kansas – couldn’t have been more different than my own. The main character, Cora, who will end up chaperoning Louise Brooks to New York City, was intriguing. I’ve read two books by this author previously, but that was a long time ago.

*Feeling Sorry for Celia by Jaclyn Moriarty – I’m not much of a YA reader, so I was pleasantly surprised to find myself drawn in by the beginning of this epistolary Australian novel.

The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst – The Thatcher-era British setting was good. I couldn’t quite tell yet if I was interested in the characters though.

City of One by Francine Cournos – I’m not sure why I added this book to my to-read list. It’s the author’s psychoanalysis of herself. No thanks.

*These is My Words: The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine, 1881-1901 by Nancy Turner – I was engaged from the start in this tale of a young woman in the Arizona territory. I picked up the book from the library later and enjoyed it, though it was a smidge too long.

*Forever by Pete Hamill – Though the book will eventually follow its main character to New York City, the sample all takes place in 18th century Ireland. The details of the family’s routines and life are fantastic if a bit overwhelming in volume, but the book was starting to grow on me as I finished out the sample.

*The Street by Ann Petry – The sample presents the main character, Lutie, at a crossroads. She is determined to get out of her mother’s home, which she feels is not a good environment for her young son. But she is a young Black single mother and it’s the 1940’s, so she doesn’t have many good options for housing in Harlem. The sample shows her considering a terrible apartment with a terrible landlord and we know she will probably take it. I left the sample wondering what would happen next for her.

*Ratking by Michael Dibdin – the phone call dialogue that starts off this Italian-set mystery in this book was great and promised a lively writing style throughout.

*Absent by Betool Khedairi – this story about a young woman in Baghdad intrigued me though the jury was still out about the chronology-hopping style on display in the sample.

What Angels Fear (Sebastian St. Cyr #1) by C. S. Harris – from the sample, I thought this was just ok. The instigating crime is a brutal rape and murder of a young woman in a church. I haven’t figured out the exact factors that turn me away from some violent murder stories, while I continue on with others, but this book had the factors that made me say “not for me”.














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My March reading

March was a great month in reading. I read Slavenka Drakulić’s 1992 book of essays,  How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed. Drakulić grew up and lived in what is now Croatia, formerly part of Yugoslavia. Her essays detail and reflect upon daily life – particularly women’s daily life – under Communist regimes in Eastern Europe, behind the Iron Curtain. It’s a snapshot of history, but more than that it’s a reflection of the intersection between the personal and the political.

But communism created this lack of any kind of privacy – in crowded communal apartments; in its morals, where everybody was comrade to everybody else; in the Communist Party, where every member watched over the ‘correct’ life of the others – because only when there is no privacy can there be total control. p71

The state wants it all public – it can’t see into our apartment, but it can tap our telephone, read our mail. We didn’t give up: everything beyond the door was considered ‘theirs.’ They wanted to turn our apartments into public spaces, but we didn’t buy that trick. What is public is of the enemy. So we hid in our pigeonholes, leaned on each other in spite of everything, and licked our wounds. p91-92

In one of her last essays, she writes of the war that has just begin in the former Yugoslav states. After the fall of Communism, the wounds from World War II resurface and everyone is at each other’s throats. War is approaching Drakulić’s city and she writes of her fear:

No thoughts, no movements, nothing but this crystal moment of pure fear shining inside you. It’s not the fear of death but of planned death, death invented in someone’s head, death as a statistical number, a mass death in a deadly game of power. p. 177

I finished Min Jin Lee’s excellent family saga Pachinko. I loved the characters, particularly Sunja and everyone from her generation. The story is about a Korean family living in Japan from the 1930s to the 1980s. They moved to and stayed in Japan for the future of their children, as Japan sucked out the life of their native land. The Japanese government and society treated them like second-class citizens, but Korea was no longer their home either. I appreciate that Lee’s story doesn’t downplay the effect of these oppressive societal forces on the characters’ emotional health and success. Systemic injustice is not an external force that can be overcome by pluck and will. Insidiously, it worms its destructive way into the characters’ heads and hearts as well.

I loved how Min Jin Lee wrote about people. Particularly with the earlier generations, she is able to write about the kindness and love of people in a way that moved me to tears several times.

I put down Michael Waldman’s book The Second Amendment a couple of weeks ago. What I read was good, but it is very focused on the detailed Constitutional history behind the amendment. After the energy of attending March for Our Lives in D.C., this book just didn’t feel like the right book to match the current moment for me. I just bought Another Day in the Death of America: A Chronicle of Ten Short Lives by Gary Younge. The ebook was on sale and it’s been on my to-read list since before it was published. Younge’s book tells the stories of ten American children and teens who lost their lives to gun violence on November 23, 2013. At the March for Our Lives, one girl from Chicago told the story of a man waving a gun in her face at a convenience store. Another teen from D.C. told the story of his twin brother’s murder. Younge’s book sounds like it will be tough, but like the March, it is focused on telling the stories of individual lives cut short by gun violence.

My escape reading was Mary Balogh’s Irresistible. It was a sweet friends-to-lovers romance. I was also a fan of Balogh’s The Escape and A Summer to Remember, so she’s likely to stay on my reading radar.

I’m almost finished with Rachel Pearson’s No Apparent Distress: A Doctor’s Coming of Age on the Front Lines of American Medicine. It is very well-written (Pearson pursued an MFA before quitting to pursue her medical career). Medical students learn their skills on the bodies of the poor and the imprisoned, and Pearson grapples with this reality throughout the book in a nuanced way.

I am also in the middle of Seanan McGuire’s Rosemary and Rue. My friend Cindy’s been a fan of this urban fantasy series for a while, and I’ve heard good things from others. I like that it’s set in San Francisco, and I’m enjoying it.

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My February reading

The first part of February was for finishing books.

I finished Loung Ung’s First They Killed My Father. In her memoir, she not only talks about life under the Khmer Rouge, but also about life in the transitional period as the Khmer Rouge’s reign ended. That period of “what next?” uncertainty has interested me in other history books – Auschwitz after the Nazis have fled in Primo Levi’s first memoir, Rwanda after the genocide has ended in Philip Gourevitch’s We Wish to Inform You, the shattered populations of post World War II Europe in Tony Judt’s Postwar. It interests me because popular conceptions of history’s narrative often brush past the aftermath period – simply say “the terrible thing was over” and move on.

I also finished Peter Ho Davies’ The Fortunes. The first story was a little too slow for my tastes – the other three stories were much more brisk, which I appreciated. The fourth story, about a Chinese-American man adopting a baby from China with his Irish-American wife was fascinating in its exploration of all the facets of identity in such a situation.

One of my favorite reads so far this year was Miguel A. de la Torre’s excellent book, The U.S. Immigration Crisis: Toward an Ethics of Place. I am still haunted by a story he tells about Sandra Lopez who was brought in to the U.S. as a baby by her mother and deported as a young adult to a border city where she knew no one and had very little money.

My mind is also still turning over what de la Torre calls “ethics para joder (“an ethics that screws with”) and defines as “when the oppressive structures cannot be overturned, the only ethical response is to screw with the structures to create disorder and chaos. This is an ethics that employs the trickster image to upset the normative law and order of those in power who require stability to maintain their privileged position.”

An example he gives is of eight clergy members who interrupted an Operation Streamline court hearing by standing up and reading from the Bible or praying. The clergy released a statement “We have disrupted the courts and we do not do so lightly, for the courtroom is in its own way a sacred place. But we disrupted the proceedings today because they have already been disrupted in a much more troubling way by Operation Streamline. It is clear to us that Operation Streamline is immoral, unjust, and a sin against the poor and their families, and as pastors in this community we have an obligation to speak.”

Wanting a quick read, I read Jill Sorenson’s Tempted by His Target. Not my favorite of hers, but I appreciated that her Mexican setting was clearly researched. I noticed that about her book Off the Rails as well.

As far as my March reading, I have already finished one excellent insightful book of essays: How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed by Slavenka Drakulić. I will write more about it in my March recap, but this quote gives an idea of her focus:

Growing up in Eastern Europe, you learn very young that politics is not an abstract concept, but a powerful force influencing people’s lives. It was this relationship between political authority and the trivia of daily living, this view from below, that interested me most. And who should I find down there, most removed from the seats of political power, but women. The biggest burden of everyday life was carried by them.

I am currently in the middle of Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, which I am absolutely adoring. I mentioned on Twitter that Pachinko reminds me in some ways of John Steinbeck’s East of Eden.

I also started Michael Waldman’s The Second Amendment: A Biography in February after the Parkland shooting, after seeing those teens use their voices to call for change. I feel very hopeful because of them.

I have a small stack of nonfiction books checked out from the library now that will likely comprise some of reading for the rest of March: The Making of a Racist: A Southerner Reflects on Family, History and the Slave Trade by Charles Dew, No Apparent Distress: A Doctor’s Coming of Age on the Front Lines of American Medicine by Rachel Pearson, and Fetch: How a Bad Dog Brought Me Home by Nicole J. Georges.

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My January reading

I’ve been working through a couple nonfiction reads this January, and have sprinkled in some romance novels for something lighter.

After seeing the film First They Killed My Father, I picked up the memoir by the same name, written by Loung Ung. Loung Ung was a child during the brutal Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia. I am appreciating all the detail that could not fit in the movie. I have put it down for the last couple of weeks because I got distracted by my other nonfiction read, but I plan on returning to this memoir soon.

My other nonfiction read is Miguel A. de la Torre’s The U.S. Immigration Crisis: Toward an Ethics of Place (published July 2016, 198 pages on Kindle edition). Rev Dr. de la Torre is a professor of Social Ethics and Latinx Studies at Iliff School of Theology. In the introduction to his book, he emphasizes the importance of being presente with those who are being oppressed, of understanding the physical spaces in order to better form an ethical response. So as a scholar-activist, he went to border cities, and anti-immigrant rallies, and walked with No Más Muertes volunteers as they left water for the people making the risky journey across the harsh borderlands of Arizona.

This book is so good – the title and cover are not enticing, so I’m glad I was recommended this book last fall or I’m not sure how I would have found it. I am highlighting passages frequently, like this one:

I conclude that whenever one nation builds roads into another nation to steal their cheap labor and natural resources, we should not be surprised when the inhabitants of those nations take those same roads and follow all that has been stolen from them.

I’m filling in some gaps in my knowledge of history, from the United Fruit Company and the banana republics, to the repercussions of NAFTA.

With all the heartbreaking deportations and ICE raids in the news and the Dreamers in limbo, this book has been a helpful and humane companion.

The romance novels I read were all dance-related! First Position by Melissa Brayden is actually the first lesbian romance I’ve read. I liked it – it was very chaos muppet meets order muppet. I also read Alexis Daria’s Take the Lead and Dance With Me, which feature characters who dance on a competition show. Of the two I preferred Take the Lead as it had more of the wonderful behind-the-scene tidbits that should be familiar to anyone who watches Dancing with the Stars. It was like unREAL except less depressing and more romantic. Dance with Me was also enjoyable, but seemed to get a little stuck on repeat at times, as far as the emotional dynamic between the two main characters.

As far as my February reading plans, in addition to finishing my two nonfiction books, I will also be reading The Fortunes by Peter Ho Davies, for my book club. I started it a few days ago, but am only 50 pages in so far.

I also plan to read Marking Time by Elizabeth Jane Howard in February. Other reads I’m contemplating include: Into the Beautiful North by Luis Alberto Urrea, the March graphic memoir trilogy, Jesmyn Ward’s Sing, Unburied, Sing, Seanan McGuire’s Rosemary and Rue, and Slavenka Drakulic’s How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed.


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2017 in Reading: Nonfiction

Part 2 of my 2017 reading recap is a list of the nonfiction books I read, roughly in order from most liked to least liked.

White Rage by Carol Anderson

This short, powerful book helped me better frame American history, particularly how the economic progress of African Americans has been deliberately sabotaged over and over again.

Sweet’s relatives in Ocoee, Florida, lived in the part of town that whites incinerated “in the single bloodiest day in American political history.” Whites went hunting for a black man who had dared approach the ballot box in the 1920 presidential election, and, in the process, killed scores of African Americans and ethnically cleansed the town until it became all-white for nearly sixty years.

The New Odyssey: The Story of Europe’s Refugee Crisis by Patrick Kingsley [review]

‘Why do we keep going by sea?’ Abu Jana asks Kingsley. ‘Because we trust god’s mercy more than the mercy of people here.’

Wesley the Owl: The Remarkable Love Story of an Owl and his Girl by Stacey O’Brien

As a young lab assistant at Caltech in 1985, O’Brien is asked if she will adopt an owlet that has a damaged wing. She does and Wesley lived with her for the rest of his life, which was nineteen years. I loved the descriptions of his particular owl behavior and also how it affected Stacey’s life to have this permanent owl companion. I cried at the end.

Here’s a video of the author talking about Wesley, that includes footage of Wesley: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vufEqpZZql0

I Was Told To Come Alone: My Journey Behind the Lines of Jihad by Souad Mekhennet

German journalist Souad Mekhennet’s memoir about her reporting on jihadists is fascinating. The daughter of Turkish and Moroccan guest workers, she pursues a career in journalism with tenacity and commitment to integrity in her reporting. While she never courts danger, some of her tales involve a fair amount of risk, so there are some suspenseful moments in this book, particularly her trips to Egypt and Libya. Excellent book.

Five minute video of an interview with the author: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhe4XyG1OSE

Thirteen Days in September: Carter, Begin and Sadat at Camp David by Lawrence Wright [review]

In addition to being highly informative and well-researched, Thirteen Days in September is written in a very engaging style, capturing the high-stakes drama of diplomacy.

Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck

1962 travel memoir by the famous novelist, who took a road trip around the United States with his dog Charley. Funny and insightful.

Happier at Home: Kiss More, Jump More, Abandon a Project, Read Samuel Johnson, and My Other Experiments in the Practice of Everyday Life by Gretchen Rubin

This is the third book I’ve read by Gretchen Rubin and I find her books always get me in the mood to reflect on how I spend my time, which is always a good thing. I often have taken specific actions or changes after reading her books.

Survival in Auschwitz (If This is a Man) by Primo Levi [review]

After the war, Primo Levi saw revisionist history at work trying to diminish or deny the horror of the Holocaust, and his book serves as a testimony refuting those efforts. Though a chemist by trade, If This is a Man also shows that Primo Levi was just as much a writer, able to capture Auschwitz in all its brutal aspects.

Fire Shut Up in My Bones by Charles M. Blow

This is the memoir of New York Times columnist and writer Charles M. Blow, who grew up in small-town Louisiana. I read this book in a day, while recovering from mono last summer.

[Brandon] insisted on knowing why we had been stopped. The officer gave a reason: not signaling before a turn. It wasn’t true. We hadn’t made a turn before his flashing lights came on. Brandon protested, to a point. Then the officer said something I will never forget: that if he wanted to, he could make us lie down in the middle of the road and shoot us in the back of the head and no one would say anything about it. With that, he walked back to his car and drove away.

Lost City of Z: A Tale of Deadly Obsession in the Amazon by David Grann

I not only wanted to read this book because it was highly praised, but also because I enjoyed Peter Fleming’s travel memoir Brazilian Adventure, which was also a quest to find out what happened to the obsessed explorer Percy Fawcett, his son and his son’s friend. The three had disappeared in 1925. Fleming’s book was funny and self-deprecating, not so much focused on Fawcett as on Fleming’s own journey. Grann’s book delves more into Fawcett’s life and into the history of Amazon exploration and exploitation. I liked the revelation at the end about past Amazonian civilizations, and look forward to reading Grann’s more recent book Killers of the Flower Moon.

Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving and Finding the Church by Rachel Held Evans

I started reading Rachel Held Evans’ writing at some point in 2008-2009 when she was very active on her blog. Now, nearly ten years later, she has written four books, and of these I have read two, including this one. A couple of years ago, I saw a video of her giving a talk called “Keep the Church Weird,” which was based on the themes of this book Searching for Sunday. While I think other readers have found this book much more personally resonant than I did, what I really appreciate about Evans’ is her emphasis on Christianity as something done as part of a community. “Like it or not,” she writes, “following Jesus is a group activity, something we’re supposed to do together.”

While Evans’ style is on the edge of being too poetic/overwritten for my tastes at times, the payoff is some really poignant thoughts:

Most days I don’t know which is harder for me to believe: that God reanimated the brain functions of a man three days dead, or that God can bring back to life all the beautiful things we have killed.

In Wartime: Stories from Ukraine by Tim Judah [review]

Overall, I found the book slow going due to the structure, but I’m glad I read it, as I feel more informed about Ukraine and the challenges it faces as a country.

Lost Girls: An Unsolved American Mystery by Robert Kolker

This book about the Long Island serial killings focuses primarily on the young female victims and their lives before their murders. The twists and turns of the investigation are covered but seen through the lens of the families and friends of the victims. All of the women were involved in the escort business at some level, which meant that their disappearances weren’t taken seriously until their bodies were uncovered together on a Long Island beach. Unsurprisingly, the women came from very broken home lives and limited financial means. They came to the NYC area from North Carolina, Maine, Connecticut and upstate New York.

I was most engaged when the book focused on the women’s lives before their murders. When the book shifted to the rollercoaster investigation afterward and the families’ efforts to see some answers, I got easily confused about which family member was which, and while the families’ drama with the media and with each other is part of the story, it got a bit tiresome at times. Still – and this is what I love about nonfiction – I came away from this book with greater insight into the lives of others.

Muslim Girl: A Coming of Age Story by Amani Al-Khatahtbeh [review]

I admire Al-Khatahtbeh’s passion and love the mission of Muslim Girl, but there should have been more fact-checking for this book. Her account of the 2015 “Draw Mohammad Day” in Garland, TX was particularly problematic for me as a reader (see my review for more on that).

The Worst Journey in the World by Apsley Cherry-Garrard [review]

While I came away from this tome about Scott’s doomed Antarctic expedition with numerous interesting passages highlighted, any enjoyment of the book had been leached from me by the end.

French Milk by Lucy Knisley

I have enjoyed stories about everyday “nothing” sort of things before, but sheesh. I was in Paris for a mere three days in 2003 and I have more interesting things to tell about my trip than the author manages to tell in her month-long stay there with her mother. All I remember now about this graphic memoir is that she was rather mopey and she bought things and ate a lot of foie gras. Don’t get me wrong, it’s okay to not be happy all the time while you’re on vacation! It happens – especially when traveling with others. I distinctly remember burning with anger at my friend while standing in a tower of the Chateau de Chambord (and I was fully cognizant that it was ridiculous to be mad while in such an amazing building, and that awareness just made me more upset). Anyway, French Milk was about nothing and it wasn’t even good at being about nothing. Don’t waste your time.








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2017 in Reading: Fiction

I didn’t read a lot of books last year and I haven’t posted on this blog in a while, but the turn-of-the-year revives an interest in reflecting back on what I read, so I’ll share.

In very rough order of most liked to least liked, the fiction I read in 2017:

Everyone Brave is Forgiven by Chris Cleave –  “There’s wit, and profundity and tragedy all fixed up together.” [review]

The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord – This was the first book of 2017 that I really escaped into, and it was such a relief to fall under its spell. [review]

Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi – the Baltimore story and the story of the prisoner in the mines were my favorites of this multi-generational epic story.

Pretty Face by Lucy Parker – perfect combination of chemistry and humor.

Mrs. Mike by Nancy and Benedict Freedman – Mrs. Mike has a brisk pace, of the sort that I really like. Sometimes you want a novel that just moves. [review]

Our Souls at Night by Kent Haruf – Read this short, simply told book in one night. In a world where stories are dominated by young characters, it was refreshing to get immersed in a story about two characters in their 70s.

Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty – I will ever be grateful to this book for getting me through a long layover at JFK. Page-turning, engrossing – exactly what I needed. The miniseries was great too.

Best of Everything by Rona Jaffe – Jaffe captures a scene and an era with storytelling flair.

The Queen of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner – Turner has a gift for hiding plot twists and revelations in plain sight. Her surprises never feels hokey.

Goodbye, Vitamin by Rachel Khong – A woman returns home after her father is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. The novel is packed with observational details which I enjoyed. There is a funny payoff regarding the cruciferous vegetables that still makes me smile to remember it.

kira-kira by Cynthia Kadohata – the family dynamics and the setting had a great specificity. Also made me cry.

North of Boston by Elizabeth Elo – The main character gets as close to a magical power as you can get, while still staying within the bounds of a “real-world” setting, and that is still just a small part of what’s going on in this mystery. Not for everyone, but I liked it.

These is My Words: The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine 1881 – 1901 by Nancy E. Turner – old-fashioned Arizona frontier story, a little too long, but considering I also read Mrs. Mike in 2017, clearly it was the type of story I was gravitating toward.

The Wangs vs the World by Jade Chang – A tale of a family road-trip following their financial ruin. Haven’t thought about it much since I finished, but now that I stop and think about it, I remember enjoyable little turns in the story, and my appreciation for where the story ended up.

The Thing About Love by Julie James – The premise of the leading couple having very different perspectives about their shared history was well done. James’ contemporary romance always seem to hit the spot for me.

The Spymaster’s Lady by Joanna Bourne – it’s a sexy book *shrug*. Also, found this hilarious plot summary on another blog I will share an early part of:

Sexy Spy Friend: This dirty French whore-spy whom I find delightful and already implicitly trust is also totally blind.

Grey: WTF.

Annique: Yup. I’m awesome. Frenchly awesome.

Lock and Key by Sarah Dessen – read another book by Dessen years ago, thought it was solid young adult contemporary. I think I liked that other book more than this one, but one thing is constant: all the characters, not just the main character, feel fleshed out, and clearly have their own things going on.

Multiple Choice by Alejandro Zambra – a unique format, as it’s written in the style of a standardized test, but didn’t leave much impression on me

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline – started off all right with the explosion and first quest, but I did not like the writing or the main character and I hate-read through the rest, because I was recovering from mono and I didn’t have much else to do.

An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir – So boring.





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Muslim Girl – Amani Al-Khatahtbeh

In February I read Amani Al-Khatahtbeh’s Muslim Girl: A Coming of Age Story. Al-Khatahtbeh is the young passionate force behind the Muslim Girl web community. In this short book, Al-Khatahtbeh describes growing up in New Jersey in a post-9/11 atmosphere (she was in fourth grade during the 2001 terrorist attacks). She also expounds upon the challenges that Muslim women face in the United States, while also highlighting the public voice of advocacy that she and other Muslim women are rightfully claiming. I appreciated Al-Khatahtbeh’s examination of the ways that tokenization and stereotyping dominate society’s narrative about Muslim women. I was also very interested in her account of the brief time in her life that she lived in Jordan as a teenager, and how she navigated culture there. I wished there had been even more of that, but that is more a reflection on my own interests in Jordan than on Al-Khatahtbeh’s story.

My main criticism of the book is that it needed to have been fact-checked better – I suspect it was rushed too quickly to print. I caught several errors in the book’s descriptions of news events, when my curiosity had led me to look up the incidents online. For instance, in her book she describes a father and son being killed in the Gaza Strip in 2000, but it was only the son, Muhammed, who was killed.

Another example: when a group of anti-Muslim activists decided to host a “Draw Muhammad Day” in Garland, TX in 2015, Al-Khatahtbeh’s Muslim Girl team cleverly offered an alternative Draw Muhammad online event which invited people to draw a Muhammad that they know (brother, friend, etc.). In her book she says “our campaign effectively drowned out any negativity surrounding the event.” What she does not mention in the book is that, unfortunately, two gunmen did show up to the inflammatory Texas event and were killed by police. So to say that because Muslim Girl’s campaign went viral, that it drowned out any negativity surrounding the event seems naive – and to not mention the gunmen at all seems like trying to dodge the complexity of the situation. I think what the Muslim Girl team did in response was creative and awesome and in no way diminished by what those gunmen did, but I was bothered by how the gunmen weren’t mentioned at all.

I’ve dragged my feet on publishing this review because I worried that my criticisms about fact-checking could be taken as criticisms about the cause and mission of Muslim Girl. But this review reflects my reading experience of the book. I am still impressed by how Al-Khatahtbeh has built an online advocacy community at such a young age and if you visit the Muslim Girl website, it is consistently intersectional, and consistently boosting the voices of people who are underrepresented in general media.



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