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edgwareviabank's reviews
556 reviews
The Office of Historical Corrections by Danielle Evans
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
The Office of Historical Corrections earned a place in the list of short story collections I'll be recommending to everyone. All of Danielle Evans's complex, sometimes controversial characters were fascinating to follow, and I really enjoyed her writing.
My thoughts on the individual pieces:
My thoughts on the individual pieces:
- Happily Ever After: A story that starts with a one-night stand, and evolves into an exploration of grief (particularly the denial stage), with hints of the uphill struggle Black people face to gain trust and acceptance. It set the tone for the rest of the collection: I remember thinking that if every main character was as well-rounded and complex as Lyssa, then I could be sure that I'd love every story.
- Richard of York Gave Battle In Vain: A single woman attends a male friend's wedding, and has to deal with the bride's insecurity around the relationship, as well as the dregs of her own past trauma. Rena, the main character, was so relatable in her uncertain search for hope after years of self-sabotage.
- Boys go to Jupiter: a white college student wears a Confederate flag bikini in a naive act of defiance towards her stepmother. When she goes viral and gets cancelled, she shows more conviction than remorse, seemingly surprising even herself; but whose side is she on, really?
- Why Don't Women Just Say What They Want: An inventive take on a powerful man's non-apologies to the women in his life, in tune with the #MeToo era. The humour is spot-on, very much the "funny because it's true" kind (or, perhaps, "laugh not to cry").
- Alcatraz: Two estranged strands of a multi-racial family reconnect after decades; one haunted by a past tragedy, the other completely unaware. As well as grief and loss of various kinds, there's something bittersweet and hopeful in this story and its ending, which I enjoyed.
- Anything Could Disappear: One of my favourites in the collection. It follows a young woman who lands in New York City for a shady job, and finds precarious happiness raising an abandoned baby. It read to me like the opposite of Alcatraz: where the previous story started bleak and ended on more positive notes, this one raises the reader's hopes early on, building the foundations for a happy ending that ultimately can't be.
- The Office of Historical Corrections: this is a novella that takes up most of the book. I didn't love it at first sight, in the way I did the shorter pieces: it grew on me more slowly, as the setting changed from Washington DC to a small town where a mystery that spans decades is unfolding. The cast of characters broadened, and their motivations and contradictions became clearer, making it a compelling read. My only complaint, now I've read it in its entirety, is the last page feels a little rushed.
The Falconer by Dana Czapnik
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
The Falconer reminded me what being 17 and feeling like there's nowhere in the world I'll ever fit in was like.
The main character, Lucy, does things I could only ever dream of growing up (living in and discovering NYC! Seeing Nirvana live!), which only made me love her more. Here and there, I spotted quotes about love, art and sense of self that sounded a lot like I used to: restless, sometimes big-headed, always hopeful behind a front of skepticism and indifference. They made me feel seen, all these years later, in a way people around me growing up rarely did. At the same time, there's no denying Lucy and past me had very different upbringings, and that she, the main character in a novel about a girl who's wise well beyond her years, is a lot more articulate and eloquent. Her experience of coming of age and womanhood matches mine in many ways, but I could never have expressed it as intelligently as she does. At twice her age, now, I have to thank her (and of course the author) for helping me put into words feelings that defined me but I had a hard time explaining even to myself. And all this, ultimately, makes me think that perhaps there are aspects of being a teenager that almost universal: widely felt, and often overlooked despite their lasting impact later in life, because the kind of story Dana Czapnik tells here is often dismissed as "young adult" (as if that was a flaw).
Or maybe not. Maybe I'm still seeing this from inside my own kind of bubble (I may not be as well-off as Lucy, and I'm definitely not American or a New Yorker, but still very much white and Western), and readers who come at it from a different angle might point out differences I'm overlooking. There is a passage in the book that suggests I'm not so wrong: late in the story, when Lucy and her best friend Alexis celebrate the New Year, and share highlights from their year that are wildly different in emotional magnitude and concern but reflect the same kind of longing.
I found some of the passages that establish sense of place rambled a bit too much for my taste, though I'm sure I'd have appreciated them more if I was more familiar with New York City and the continuous changing of its landscape. Other than that, I found the writing almost flawless, with Lucy's reflections and observations carrying the entire book, when the plot itself isn't meant to be particularly complex or layered. I couldn't say this enough: teenage me would have absolutely loved this book. Adult me would like to shove in the hands of every younger woman I know.
The main character, Lucy, does things I could only ever dream of growing up (living in and discovering NYC! Seeing Nirvana live!), which only made me love her more. Here and there, I spotted quotes about love, art and sense of self that sounded a lot like I used to: restless, sometimes big-headed, always hopeful behind a front of skepticism and indifference. They made me feel seen, all these years later, in a way people around me growing up rarely did. At the same time, there's no denying Lucy and past me had very different upbringings, and that she, the main character in a novel about a girl who's wise well beyond her years, is a lot more articulate and eloquent. Her experience of coming of age and womanhood matches mine in many ways, but I could never have expressed it as intelligently as she does. At twice her age, now, I have to thank her (and of course the author) for helping me put into words feelings that defined me but I had a hard time explaining even to myself. And all this, ultimately, makes me think that perhaps there are aspects of being a teenager that almost universal: widely felt, and often overlooked despite their lasting impact later in life, because the kind of story Dana Czapnik tells here is often dismissed as "young adult" (as if that was a flaw).
Or maybe not. Maybe I'm still seeing this from inside my own kind of bubble (I may not be as well-off as Lucy, and I'm definitely not American or a New Yorker, but still very much white and Western), and readers who come at it from a different angle might point out differences I'm overlooking. There is a passage in the book that suggests I'm not so wrong: late in the story, when Lucy and her best friend Alexis celebrate the New Year, and share highlights from their year that are wildly different in emotional magnitude and concern but reflect the same kind of longing.
I found some of the passages that establish sense of place rambled a bit too much for my taste, though I'm sure I'd have appreciated them more if I was more familiar with New York City and the continuous changing of its landscape. Other than that, I found the writing almost flawless, with Lucy's reflections and observations carrying the entire book, when the plot itself isn't meant to be particularly complex or layered. I couldn't say this enough: teenage me would have absolutely loved this book. Adult me would like to shove in the hands of every younger woman I know.
The Bullet That Missed by Richard Osman
adventurous
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
relaxing
fast-paced
4.5
The Bullet That Missed, at last! I've been on hold for months to get the ebook from my library, and it was all worth it. As usual, a fun quick read: I blitzed through it in three days, knowing the queue must be so long I probably wouldn't be able to renew it at the end of the loan. The pace didn't feel forced. In fact, I couldn't put my phone down, and I say this as someone who doesn't usually read very fast.
This being book 3, the series is starting to feel like a safe bet and a comfort read, of which I'm glad. All my expectations fromthe past episodes were met: known characters' big personalities, new faces to warm up to, silliness and whimsy sprinkled throughout. This time, some food for thought on more serious aspects of day-to-day life came across more strongly than in the other books. Loneliness and frailty in old age come up, as you'd expect given the core characters' ages (the other books in the series address this too, and once again, the bond between Elizabeth and Stephen is one of the most compelling and moving examples); there's a lot to ponder about friendship and the ability, or lack thereof, to open up about feelings; many of the characters, old and young, take stock of their lives, and try to get close to what it means to be the best version of themselves.
I'm beginning to spot subtle patterns with the way characters' personalities are presented, and perhaps, as I read more of this series, working out who will become a friend of the gang vs. who will turn out to be involved in the criminal plot might be starting to become a little straightforward. Pretty early on, I felt I had enough to make a guess about who might end up in the list of suspects, and crack the one clue the gang can't get their heads round until the very end. While with any other mystery plot I'd feel disappointed with a predictable plot twist, with this series it's so easy to enjoy every bit of the journey, even when you begin to see the final destination. I'm so happy book 4 is in the works and can't wait to get my hands on it.
This being book 3, the series is starting to feel like a safe bet and a comfort read, of which I'm glad. All my expectations fromthe past episodes were met: known characters' big personalities, new faces to warm up to, silliness and whimsy sprinkled throughout. This time, some food for thought on more serious aspects of day-to-day life came across more strongly than in the other books. Loneliness and frailty in old age come up, as you'd expect given the core characters' ages (the other books in the series address this too, and once again, the bond between Elizabeth and Stephen is one of the most compelling and moving examples); there's a lot to ponder about friendship and the ability, or lack thereof, to open up about feelings; many of the characters, old and young, take stock of their lives, and try to get close to what it means to be the best version of themselves.
I'm beginning to spot subtle patterns with the way characters' personalities are presented, and perhaps, as I read more of this series, working out who will become a friend of the gang vs. who will turn out to be involved in the criminal plot might be starting to become a little straightforward. Pretty early on, I felt I had enough to make a guess about who might end up in the list of suspects, and crack the one clue the gang can't get their heads round until the very end. While with any other mystery plot I'd feel disappointed with a predictable plot twist, with this series it's so easy to enjoy every bit of the journey, even when you begin to see the final destination. I'm so happy book 4 is in the works and can't wait to get my hands on it.
Home Remedies by Xuan Juliana Wang
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.0
I was hoping I'd enjoy Home Remedies, because I have a soft spot for fiction that explores immigrants' fragmented identities, and particularly like to read about this in short story format, from the point of view of as many characters as possible. I'm glad to say I loved it, (almost) from the first page to the last.
There are elements of magical realism that work most of the time, though they didn't quite hit the right notes for me in a couple of stories (the metaphor for immigration is a bit too on-the-nose in the first piece, Mott Street in July; I didn't quite grasp what the missing plane and whales meant in Echo of the Moment). Even in the pieces where these are not present, the stories have a dreamlike quality, enhanced by the author's choice of delicate, evocative images, and focus on the protagonists' inner worlds, both in first and third-person narration. In that sense, I'd say the tone of voice is the book's main strength.
The other element that drew me in was the exploration of the Chinese diaspora, which I don't know lots about, other than through reading another standout short story collection, Jenny Zhang's Sour Heart. A common factor the two books have in common is that most main characters are millennials, just like me; even in the absence of lots of background knowledge of China and its culture, this made feelings, attitudes and cultural references easier for me to relate to.
My favourites:
There are elements of magical realism that work most of the time, though they didn't quite hit the right notes for me in a couple of stories (the metaphor for immigration is a bit too on-the-nose in the first piece, Mott Street in July; I didn't quite grasp what the missing plane and whales meant in Echo of the Moment). Even in the pieces where these are not present, the stories have a dreamlike quality, enhanced by the author's choice of delicate, evocative images, and focus on the protagonists' inner worlds, both in first and third-person narration. In that sense, I'd say the tone of voice is the book's main strength.
The other element that drew me in was the exploration of the Chinese diaspora, which I don't know lots about, other than through reading another standout short story collection, Jenny Zhang's Sour Heart. A common factor the two books have in common is that most main characters are millennials, just like me; even in the absence of lots of background knowledge of China and its culture, this made feelings, attitudes and cultural references easier for me to relate to.
My favourites:
- Days of Being Mild: a group of young creatives begin to transition from the "starving artist" lifestyle they've been privileged enough to be able to choose into adult lives they're not entirely sure they want. I could relate strongly to the characters' youth nihilism, the observing of friends' questionable choices but being unable to recognise their own, and the fear of becoming some kind of traitor the protagonist feels (towards himself? His dreams? His friends?) the moment he starts considering falling in line with his family's aspirations.
- For Our Children and For Ourselves: a young man from a deprived countryside village enters into an arranged marriage with the disabled daughter of a rich Chinese businesswoman in the US. This is a story about parenthood, sacrifice and compromise, and it's particularly interesting to see how the bride's mother and the groom's mother, despite their completely different lifestyles, both act from the same place of accepting to do what needs to be done.
- Vaulting the Sea: A coming-of-age story that is full of longing and things unsaid. The plot follows a star diver from the moment he leaves home for training camp as a child, to the 2008 Olympics, when his shot at glory coincides with the loss of everything he loves.
- The Strawberry Years: a young immigrant living quietly and trying to make ends meet in New York City accepts to guide an influencer from China through her first day in town. As she overstays her welcome, she takes over his living quarters and a growing portion of his headspace.
You Don't Know Me by Imran Mahmood
adventurous
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
2.5
I picked up this book on the strength of the many reviews that praise its peculiar structure (first-person narration, in the format of the self-defense speech of a young man on trial for murder). It didn't quite work for me.
The narration is fairly linear, despite a number of flashbacks that provide useful backstory. The main character's voice isn't quite engaging enough, and at times too repetitive: lots of variations on the themes of "I know all this makes me sound guilty but I didn't do it", and "just wait until I tell you this next thing that changed everything". None of the reveals are particularly shocking, or exciting; in fact, the many twists and turns gave me the impression that the story was dragging on and on, especially in the final third. I was hoping for the book to create suspense more convincingly, or, at least, enough ambiguity for the reader to identify with the members of the jury, who are the protagonist's audience and are meant to carry the weight of establishing his guilt or innocence.
It's easy to sympathise with the protagonist, and right from the start, he comes across as believable. It's also very easy to believe his claims of being a victim of the justice system (shoddy evidence, an ill-informed prosecutor, and racial bias), because we have plenty of evidence of that happening in the real world. So how's this meant to be a thriller? There are no clues or details for readers to turn over in their heads: it's the protagonist's word against a bullet point list of evidence, the story is laid bare in a linear fashion, and nothing suggests there's any kind of mystery to solve or plot to unravel.
By the end, it's abundantly clear that this is exactly the author's point. The book was never about the mystery, or who did it, or who didn't: it was always about the trial process, and the systemic bias disadvantaged defendants are subject to. Which makes sense from the point of view of considering the world we live in, but also makes for a very boring work of fiction in this particular case. Readers who follow the news may well feel they're not being told anything they didn't already know.
The narration is fairly linear, despite a number of flashbacks that provide useful backstory. The main character's voice isn't quite engaging enough, and at times too repetitive: lots of variations on the themes of "I know all this makes me sound guilty but I didn't do it", and "just wait until I tell you this next thing that changed everything". None of the reveals are particularly shocking, or exciting; in fact, the many twists and turns gave me the impression that the story was dragging on and on, especially in the final third. I was hoping for the book to create suspense more convincingly, or, at least, enough ambiguity for the reader to identify with the members of the jury, who are the protagonist's audience and are meant to carry the weight of establishing his guilt or innocence.
It's easy to sympathise with the protagonist, and right from the start, he comes across as believable. It's also very easy to believe his claims of being a victim of the justice system (shoddy evidence, an ill-informed prosecutor, and racial bias), because we have plenty of evidence of that happening in the real world. So how's this meant to be a thriller? There are no clues or details for readers to turn over in their heads: it's the protagonist's word against a bullet point list of evidence, the story is laid bare in a linear fashion, and nothing suggests there's any kind of mystery to solve or plot to unravel.
By the end, it's abundantly clear that this is exactly the author's point. The book was never about the mystery, or who did it, or who didn't: it was always about the trial process, and the systemic bias disadvantaged defendants are subject to. Which makes sense from the point of view of considering the world we live in, but also makes for a very boring work of fiction in this particular case. Readers who follow the news may well feel they're not being told anything they didn't already know.
Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks by Patrick Radden Keefe
challenging
informative
reflective
slow-paced
5.0
Looking for Patrick Radden Keefe's Empire of Pain at a book sale, I found Rogues instead. I thought I'd read one of his works and then feel content enough to move on to other authors. I was wrong: I enjoyed this so much, I've put all his other books on my list now.
Some of the pieces could loosely fit into the true crime category, and I'd recommend them to anyone who enjoys the genre without sensationalism and gory violence. That said, the profiles of a university mass shooter and of the lawyer who defended the perpetrator of Boston Marathon bombings are especially sad because of the trauma and grief behind them, and may hit different triggers, so tread carefully if that sounds like you.
I particularly liked learning about stories of crime and deception I'd never heard about before (even the ones about financial crimes, where the finer details are far out of my comfort zone), because scams and similar intrigues are one of the deepest rabbit holes I let myself fall into, and I'm always keen to read stories that are brand new to me rather than new takes on topics I'm already familiar with.
There are profiles that stray from these categories, such as the last piece about Anthony Bourdain. I loved that for entirely different reasons, as it gave me insights into a personality I hadn't followed over the years and knew nothing about going in, making me realise I'd actually quite like to become familiar with his work.
I couldn't recommend this enough. It was a slow burner for me (I read a few pages at a time before going to sleep, and I fall asleep fast) but totally worth spending a couple of months with.
Some of the pieces could loosely fit into the true crime category, and I'd recommend them to anyone who enjoys the genre without sensationalism and gory violence. That said, the profiles of a university mass shooter and of the lawyer who defended the perpetrator of Boston Marathon bombings are especially sad because of the trauma and grief behind them, and may hit different triggers, so tread carefully if that sounds like you.
I particularly liked learning about stories of crime and deception I'd never heard about before (even the ones about financial crimes, where the finer details are far out of my comfort zone), because scams and similar intrigues are one of the deepest rabbit holes I let myself fall into, and I'm always keen to read stories that are brand new to me rather than new takes on topics I'm already familiar with.
There are profiles that stray from these categories, such as the last piece about Anthony Bourdain. I loved that for entirely different reasons, as it gave me insights into a personality I hadn't followed over the years and knew nothing about going in, making me realise I'd actually quite like to become familiar with his work.
I couldn't recommend this enough. It was a slow burner for me (I read a few pages at a time before going to sleep, and I fall asleep fast) but totally worth spending a couple of months with.
Your Duck Is My Duck by Deborah Eisenberg
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
3.0
A book that has been on my list for ages, to the point I can't remember how it made it there in the first place. I must have read something, years ago, that made me think it was right up my street; a newspaper review, perhaps, or a recommendation on a blog I trust. However, my experience reading these short stories was hit and miss.
- Your Duck Is My Duck: I expected more from the titular piece. It starts with an interesting premise, and there was a lot in the main character's first-person voice that I could relate to: most of all, wry humour, a slightly self-deprecating tone, and a frustrating artist's block. On the other hand, the story seems to end too soon, without exploring some of the characters' motivations in enough depth. They're sketched out just enough to convey the message the author wanted to send across; however, upon turning the last page, I felt I hadn't quite been given enough to be confident I'd really got it.
- Taj Mahal: A group of faded movie stars, and the daughter of a late actress who was part of the group, meet to reminisce about the past, in the wake of a controversial biography that calls into question their own recollections and relationships. The stories that emerge are so fascinating, as is the sense that no one involved can supply a reliable truth: every memory is influenced by the person recalling it, the way they see themselves, and the way they want to be seen. All the characters' voices are so distinctive, I never wanted the piece to end: I'd love to read a novel about them all.
- Cross Off And Move On: my favourite, about the politics of a dysfunctional family, growing up with a mean-spirited and regretful mother, and living with the constant feeling of not measuring up to expectations, be it other people's or your own. The narrative arc feels complete, and the main character is the most relatable I came across in this book: the impact of her upbringing on her sense of self and adult relationships is painfully real.
- Merge: I enjoyed the unlikely crossover of misfits unsure of their place in the world (a trust fund baby down on his luck; an elderly lady living like a recluse with an inherited dog she can't get herself to walk; a younger woman harbouring an eerie fascination with the research work of the older woman's vanished husband). I couldn't get on board with the higher concepts about language and communication the author weaved through the plot. I'm sure there was a connecting thread; it was too abstract and obscure for me to grasp, so reading this story felt like a slog: I couldn't wait for it to be over.
- The Third Tower: beautiful writing - sad and dreamlike, telling the story of a teenager with a vivid imagination who gets hospitalised in a world where self-expression is seen and treated as a disease. Still, the piece as a whole felt almost as obscure as Merge (a little more transparent, but only just about). I enjoy trying to work out where the title of a short story might have come from, and with this one I came up with absolutely nothing, which again made me wonder whether I was failing to grasp something fundamental.
- Recalculating: another family saga in short story format, sharing themes of grief and memory with Taj Mahal and Cross Off And Move On. No surprise, then, that this was the other standout story for me in the collection, only hampered by what felt like a vague, unsatisfactory ending.
Urgent Matters by Paula RodrÃguez
dark
reflective
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
4.0
Urgent Matters isn't quite a crime or mystery novel, or even a detective story: all the crimes that go to influence the plot are presented as context and backstory, and the book kicks off when a different type of tragedy (a train crash) has just struck
The story is all about the way characters live the aftermath of the crash. A wanted criminal takes the opportunity to disappear. His partner takes refuge at the house of her compulsively religious sister (who sells sex toys and works at a casino), and their teenage daughter has something to hide. An overbearing matriarch, an accomplice, and several cops at various levels of incompetence and corruption complete the cast. Competing journalists with motives and ambitions of their own try to capture everything that takes place.
The unraveling of everyone's plans, secrets, fears, and contradictions creates a somber and reflective mood, and a complex web of relationships that is very interesting to dig into. Upon reaching the end, the characters felt very familiar, and I was left with a lot of curiosity to learn how their lives would go on.
The story is all about the way characters live the aftermath of the crash. A wanted criminal takes the opportunity to disappear. His partner takes refuge at the house of her compulsively religious sister (who sells sex toys and works at a casino), and their teenage daughter has something to hide. An overbearing matriarch, an accomplice, and several cops at various levels of incompetence and corruption complete the cast. Competing journalists with motives and ambitions of their own try to capture everything that takes place.
The unraveling of everyone's plans, secrets, fears, and contradictions creates a somber and reflective mood, and a complex web of relationships that is very interesting to dig into. Upon reaching the end, the characters felt very familiar, and I was left with a lot of curiosity to learn how their lives would go on.