A Book A Week

One of the most common icebreakers I’ve encountered is the dreaded question: If you could have dinner with any person, dead or alive, who would it be? No matter how many times it’s been asked, I always freeze, struggling to come up with an answer. But perhaps the more interesting follow-up question is: What would you hope to learn from them? That shifts the conversation from a surface-level fantasy to something deeper, exploring the lessons we can take from history and those who lived through it.

In Harriet Tubman: Live in Concert, Bob the Drag Queen takes that idea and runs with it, crafting a reality where historical figures miraculously return to life, confront the modern world, and force us to reexamine the past. It’s a bold, imaginative debut that turns a familiar hypothetical into a thought-provoking and wildly entertaining read.

No one can explain how or why it happened, but everyone agrees—it’s a miracle. Long-dead historical figures have inexplicably returned, alive and well, picking up where they left off while adapting to the modern world. 

"It's been a very strange news cycle since The Return. Cleopatra is now an Instagram model, Rockefeller is having public battles of wealth display with Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos, and everyone is waiting on pins and needles to see if Jesus will return. I'm not betting on it."

For Darnell, a once-successful record producer whose best days are behind him, the phenomenon takes an even stranger turn—one of these legendary figures not only knows who he is but wants to work with him.

When you think of Harriet Tubman, you likely picture the fearless abolitionist who risked her life to lead hundreds to freedom through the Underground Railroad. But now that she’s back, Harriet quickly realizes that while progress has been made, the fight for freedom and equality is far from over. The journey to the Promised Land must continue, and she’s determined to tell her story in a way that resonates with this new generation. The best way to do that? A hip-hop album.

If that sounds crazy, just ask Alexander Hamilton.

Harriet enlists Darnell to help her bring her vision to life—producing an album and a concert that could change the world. Along the way, he might just rediscover his own purpose, too.

Bob the Drag Queen is a comedian, reality TV star, drag performer—and now, he can add author to that list. Harriet Tubman: Live in Concert is one of the most imaginative, original, and provocative novels I’ve read this year. His distinctive voice leaps off the page, infusing this speculative historical fiction with sharp humor and insightful commentary.

Bob fully embraces the what-if of it all, crafting a fish-out-of-water scenario that places Harriet Tubman in the modern world, balancing levity with moments of deep reflection. While some passages lean a bit repetitive, his undeniable charisma and clear perspective keep the story moving, smoothing over any technical hiccups.

By bringing Tubman into the present, Bob draws a compelling parallel between the abolitionist movement of her time and the ongoing fight for LGBTQ+ rights. The struggle for equality is never-ending, but it’s one worth continuing. This novel serves as a powerful reminder that, no matter our race, gender, or sexual orientation, we all deserve to live fully, freely, and without fear. As Harriet herself puts it: “The biggest struggle in earning your freedom is feeling like you deserve it."

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 25)

Reflecting on the impact of presidents throughout American history, it’s clear that some figures hold a particularly consequential place in shaping the nation. Their actions and legacies resonate through time regardless of popularity or party affiliation. Abraham Lincoln is undeniably one of these figures, a president who guided the divided nation through its bloodiest conflict. In Lincoln in the Bardo, George Saunders reimagines a small, deeply personal moment from Lincoln’s life, crafting an imaginative and haunting narrative unlike anything I’ve read. The novel captures the gravity of history and the intimate, human experiences that unfold within it, making for a truly unique exploration of one of America’s most storied leaders.

The year is 1862, and the Civil War has been tearing through the country for nearly a year, with mounting casualties and no sign of resolution. President Abraham Lincoln, already a polarizing figure, is under tremendous strain as he tries to unite a divided nation. Tragedy strikes Lincoln personally as he faces the country’s collective grief. His eleven-year-old son, Willie, fell gravely ill in the White House. Despite hopes for recovery, Willie’s condition worsened, and within days, he passed away, leaving his parents heartbroken.

Mary Todd Lincoln, overwhelmed by sorrow, is unable even to attend her son’s funeral. Shattered by the loss, Abraham spends countless hours alone in Willie’s crypt, confronting the enormity of his personal and national burdens.

Meanwhile, young Willie finds himself trapped in the realm between life and death—a purgatory known in Buddhist tradition as the bardo. Here, he encounters a menagerie of spectral characters, each suspended in this liminal space. These ghosts share reflections on their lives, contemplating their choices and the meaning they find, as Saunders intricately weaves their stories with Lincoln’s profound loss.

Finding a genuinely original novel is rare, but Lincoln in the Bardo is precisely that. George Saunders brings an unparalleled voice to this story, transforming a small historical fact into a profound exploration of metaphysics and shared humanity. The structure is striking: Saunders intersperses quotes from various historical sources, creating a layered tapestry that contemplates loss and grief. The bardo itself has a rhythm that may either captivate or alienate readers—I’m still undecided on how well it worked for me. Nonetheless, Saunders has crafted an emotionally resonant novel that reached deep into my own experience of loss, confronting sorrow while offering glimmers of hope. At a time when the U.S. stands on the brink of another pivotal political chapter, this novel feels all the more timely and significant.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 85)

In 2017, I had the privilege of embarking on a backpacking trip across Europe. I was overwhelmed by the sheer scope of history that unfolded in the places I visited. The history of the Holocaust, in particular, struck a deep chord within me. Walking through the ruins of Auschwitz and witnessing the vast expanse of Birkenau, I struggled to comprehend the true magnitude of lives lost during this horrific period. Surrounded by barbed fences and countless shed-like structures that once housed over a million prisoners, the enormity of the tragedy was almost too overwhelming to grasp.

It was only through reading personal accounts, such as Elie Wiesel's Night and Anne Frank's diary, that I began to connect with this tragedy on a human level. These personal experiences allowed me to truly understand the inhumanity of the Holocaust. Since that journey, I have mostly avoided fictional works set within this historical context. How can one craft a compelling story about something so horrific? However, when I stumbled upon Mitch Albom's latest novel, The Little Liar, I decided to take a chance on this work of fiction.

How do we know what is really true? In this story, we can be certain that everything we read is true because our narrator is Truth itself. Talk about credibility. The book follows Nico Krispis, an eleven-year-old Greek boy who has never told a lie in his life. When the Nazis invade his home, Nico hides while his family is taken by soldiers. A German officer eventually finds Nico and offers him a deal: his family's safety in exchange for Nico's help. The officer asks Nico to go to the train station daily and reassure his fellow Jews that the trains they are being forced to board are taking them to new homes with jobs and safety.

Unaware of the cruel deception, Nico faithfully carries out his task. It isn't until he sees his own family being loaded into a crowded boxcar that he realizes the horrific truth—they are all being sent to their doom at Auschwitz. Distraught by his unwitting role in this great lie, Nico is forever changed, never able to tell the truth again. In the intervening years, we follow Nico, his brother, their schoolmate, and the Nazi officer as they each grapple with the consequences of their actions, words, and the trauma they have endured.

The Little Liar begins as a moving parable about the value of truth, the consequences of deception, and the redemptive power of forgiveness. By having Truth as the narrator, Mitch Albom gives the story an authority it might otherwise lack. I was drawn into the story, captivated by the familiar historical context and the inevitable heartbreak. The first part of the book, which focuses on the Holocaust, is the most compelling. Albom then fast-forwards through history, showing how each character deals with the aftermath of their trauma. While the story concludes in a satisfying way, I couldn't help but wish for more depth from the characters.

My experience walking through historical sites and reading primary sources about the Holocaust highlighted the complexity of the individuals involved. In Albom's novel, however, the characters often feel one-dimensional. The good guys are entirely good, and the bad guys are unrelentingly evil. While this works from a narrative standpoint, it detracts from deeper contemplation and reflection. Take the Nazi officer, for example. Initially, he appears conflicted as he rescues Nico from certain death, but rather than struggling with his conscience, he quickly devolves into a caricature of evil. This lack of nuanced character development reduces the emotional impact of the story.

While there are glimmers of genuine heart and some clever plot developments, the main emotion I left The Little Liar with was a sense of coolness. It is a serviceable tale but one that leaves little lasting impact. My advice: dive into some of the non-fiction writing on this subject instead.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 40)

If you know anything about British royal history, you probably know of King Henry VIII and his many wives. Needless to say, the king had some commitment issues. Interestingly, despite the king's revolving door of consorts, he was steadfast in his devotion to one person for the remainder of his life. Enter Will Sommers, his jester. Not much is known with any certainty about Will Sommers other than he was the Monarch's jester from the reign of King Henry VIII through the reigns of Henry's children: King Edward VI, Queen Mary I, and Queen Elizabeth I. To have such longevity in a medieval royal court is a triumph for anyone, let alone a jester. Being afforded this place of prominence across generations of the Tudor dynasty put Sommers in a uniquely front-row seat for some of the most dramatic events in British history. This is what makes the premise of Jeri Westerson's Courting Dragons so intriguing. Weaving a murder mystery into the lore of this particular jester opens up endless possibilities.

Jeri Westerson's Will Sommers is a fool, but he's no dummy. Sommers is quite the intellect, often outmaneuvering his supposed "betters" and overpowering them with his quick wit and expertly landed taunts. As a medieval jester, he is allowed a certain level of freedom within the court of King Henry VIII. Neither nobleman nor servant, the otherwise rigid court rules are often bent regarding what the jester does or says. A jester to the king easily moves about the palace to be in the presence of whomever he pleases, regardless of their class. Perhaps more importantly, a jester can say what others think without fear of losing one's head. After all, who would take seriously the insults of a fool? Even so, Sommers uses his position and keen intellect to both entertain and ridicule / bring to light the various schemes of the court. Chief of which at this moment is the "Great Matter" of King Henry's ongoing campaign to end his marriage to Queen Catherine of Spain. 

As that well-known drama unfolds, Sommers finds himself in a precarious situation of his own--stumbling upon the slit throat of his Spanish male lover. Queerness in the medieval era was similarly dangerous as in modern times, so Sommer's proclivity for bedding other men was something that must remain a secret. Quickly realizing his unique access as a jester puts him in an unusual position to investigate the murder, Sommers feels honor-bound to discover the culprit and enlists his one true love, Marion, to help. As the plot unfolds and secrets emerge, the investigation raises more questions than answers. Was the Spaniard killed due to the homosexual nature of his and Sommer's relations? Or does it have to do with the rising tensions between the Spanish and English and the "great matter" at court? With the consequences of succession, blasphemy, and power at hand, Sommers must walk a perilous line to uncover the truth.

As I mentioned earlier, not much is truly known about Will Sommers outside of his long tenure as court jester. But that is what makes Courting Dragons so fun. Jeri Westerson gets to play with an archetype rooted in arguably the most theatrical and sensationalized period in Western history. I found Will Sommers's perspective fascinating, and as a gay man, I appreciated the inclusion of queer elements without it being the main focus of the story, especially within the context of Renaissance England. I admit that the final revelation of the plot left me feeling somewhat anticlimactic, but it does not detract from the fun I had reading this book. I found this story to be a satisfying intertwining of a traditional murder mystery set in the ever-popular historical context of the court of King Henry VIII. If that sounds like your cup of tea, I highly recommend this story. 

Review by Johnathan H. 

Think back to the early months of 2020. COVID-19 was on the rise as a global health crisis, incidents of police brutality were escalating, and America was led by a president who stood out as one of the most polarizing figures in history. The atmosphere was thick with uncertainty. At a time when many sought strong and compassionate leadership, we found ourselves with a leader more focused on personal gain than on serving the nation. During such periods of uncertainty, it's natural for our minds to wander and ponder alternative realities. I found myself wondering, "What if things had been different?" Author Curtis Sittenfeld seized upon this speculative thought, channeling it into her novel, Rodham.

Hillary Rodham Clinton is one of the most influential women in American political history. Regardless of one's opinion on her political beliefs, her impact on the nation's political landscape is undeniable. She's a figure who has consistently evoked strong reactions since her days as First Lady during Bill Clinton's landmark presidency. While many are familiar with the disappointment of her 2016 presidential loss to Donald Trump, Curtis Sittenfeld has imagined an intriguing alternative history. In the novel, Hillary Rodham, having declined Bill Clinton's marriage proposal, chooses a path that diverges from her eventual union with the former president. This alternate narrative prompts readers to reflect on the potential trajectory of one of America's most prominent political figures had she taken a different route.

The initial sections of Rodham closely mirror Hillary's known history. We witness her early law school years, and indeed, her relationship with Bill Clinton develops much as it did in reality. In many respects, they make an unusual pair. Bill is exuberant and effortlessly establishes genuine rapport with people, often forming connections with those he's just met. On the other hand, Hillary is more introspective, finding solace and comfort within her tight-knit circle of friends rather than in new acquaintances. Yet, the two are undeniably drawn to each other, each possessing a brilliant intellect and curiosity that perfectly complements the other's temperament. Hinting at the public marital challenges they faced in real life, Bill grapples with infidelity in this fictional account, even as his political ambitions start to take shape. At this point, Sittenfeld's narrative veers away from known history. Bill and Hillary do not wed; instead, they embark on separate paths that will eventually intersect, but in ways starkly different from the history we know.

Within this alternative historical timeline, Sittenfeld's Rodham primarily unfolds. Liberated from her relationship with Bill, Hillary ventures into a political career where she seizes control of her own narrative, something she could not fully achieve in real life. Presented in the first person, the novel resonates with the authenticity of a genuine memoir, offering readers intimate insights into Hillary's political and personal ambitions. Sittenfeld provides a form of wish fulfillment, granting Hillary the opportunities many of us wished she had experienced. Much of this imagined narrative aligns closely with the fringes of actual history, lending the fabricated events a sense of credibility that makes them feel believable, even though they never transpired. Hillary faces many of the same obstacles she encountered in real life, particularly as she contemplates a presidential run. The challenges of being a woman in a predominantly male role are eternally evident. Sittenfeld adeptly captures the aspirations and frustrations of a woman poised for greatness if only the course of history would accommodate her. Although the conclusion may seem somewhat predictable, Rodham remains a captivating read that ignites the imagination.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 27)

Lately, my husband has rekindled his interest in reading. While I indulge in a couple of books every week, he has refrained from reading for pleasure for more than a decade. As a history major, his academic journey involved consuming numerous nonfiction volumes, providing valuable knowledge but transforming the act of reading into a more laborious task than a leisurely pursuit. Following his recent successful foray into a historical fiction/mystery novel, he suggested we embark on a joint reading venture. Our chosen book was Michael Crichton's Timeline, a bestselling 1998 novel that seamlessly blends elements of thriller and historical fiction, catering to both of our literary preferences.

In the vast expanse of the relentless Arizona desert, a lost couple stumbles upon a bewildering sight—an individual on the roadside caught in a trance, uttering incomprehensible rhymes, unable to discern his identity or the reason for his presence. Stranded with no means to seek immediate assistance, the compassionate couple places the enigmatic man in the back of their car and rushes him to the nearest hospital. The medical staff, like the good Samaritans, is confounded by his condition; his mental disarray is accompanied by a rapid physical decline. Before the night concludes, he succumbs to his mysterious affliction, leaving unanswered questions surrounding his inexplicable state.

Meanwhile, in France, Professor Johnston and his team of student archaeologists meticulously unearth a medieval city's ruins, progressing carefully to ensure the site's preservation. The pace proves too sluggish for their corporate financiers, whose impatience clashes with the meticulous work of the historians. Balancing historical research with corporate interests becomes nearly impossible, pushing the archaeologists and corporate representatives to their limits. While Professor Johnston embarks on a journey to the financiers' corporate headquarters in an attempt to mend their fraying relationship, his team makes a startling discovery at the excavation site. Soon, the students are also whisked away to the corporate headquarters, where they are introduced to a mysterious technology that promises to revolutionize the study of history through firsthand experience. Although it initially appears as if torn from the pages of science fiction, they will soon discover the very real dangers associated with it.

In its attempt to echo the success of Michael Crichton's classic adventures like Jurassic Park, Timeline incorporates familiar elements, including mysterious technology with promises of scientific advancement and corporate gain. Following a recurring theme in Crichton's work, academics take on the role of heroes tasked with uncovering the truth behind the new technology and highlighting its ethical dilemmas. While this formula made Crichton's previous novels smart, page-turning reads, it falls flat in Timeline.

Despite the surface-level engagement provided by the familiar elements, a closer look reveals that the story lacks the depth and cleverness it aspires to achieve. The characters adhere closely to their prescribed stereotypes, with the villains being overtly evil and the heroes unflinchingly good. While this advances the plot, it fails to create a connection that would make readers invest in the characters. The heroes, in particular, lack depth, making distinguishing between them at various points in the narrative challenging. Even my husband and I found ourselves struggling to keep track of who was who.

While two-dimensional characters can be overlooked if the plot is compelling, Timeline also struggles to effectively utilize its intriguing concept. Numerous narrative threads remain unresolved, and the primary motivation for the heroes' time travel feels contrived, serving more as a means to move characters where the author wants them than as an organic story progression. Despite offering a level of enjoyable escapism, the book ultimately feels unrewarding. While I remain a fan of Crichton's classic works, Timeline, unfortunately, misses the mark. 

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 22)

The summer of 1974 proved to be a turbulent period in Boston. A scorching heatwave blankets the city, mirroring the simmering civil unrest beneath the surface. The city's decision to support the desegregation of all public schools triggers significant upheaval, as it means students will be bussed across town to foster greater integration on school campuses. In "Southie," a proud, long-standing Irish enclave steeped in tradition, the residents are deeply disgruntled. Desegregation jeopardizes their way of life, regardless of its inherent prejudice, and they are willing to go to great lengths to prevent it.

Amid these tensions, Mary Pat Fennessy is also deeply troubled by the news regarding the schools. But she's grappling with more immediate concerns. As a single mother, she struggles to stay one step ahead of bill collectors. One night, Mary Pat's teenage daughter, Jules, stays out late and doesn't return home. The same evening, a young Black man meets a tragic end, struck by a subway train in mysterious circumstances. Initially, these two occurrences appear unrelated. However, Mary Pat begins to uncover deeply unsettling connections, propelling her into a relentless quest to locate her missing daughter. Desperate for answers and undeterred by potential consequences, Mary Pat embarks on a journey that leads her to confront mobsters, politicians, and fellow citizens, all entangled in the tumultuous backdrop of the era.

Dennis Lehane's novels, such as Mystic River and Shutter Island, are among my all-time favorites. Thus, when I first got wind of his latest offering, Small Mercies, I quickly included it in my reading list. Lehane possesses a narrative style that cuts to the core, unafraid to illuminate the most unsettling facets of our history. By situating his latest creation within the backdrop of the civil rights movement, Lehane introduces an inherent tension that simmers to the surface in several heart-wrenching scenes. The connection between Mary Pat and her Black co-worker generates one of the most emotionally charged moments I've encountered in any book this year. However, that's just skimming the surface of this exceptional literary work.

Beneath the racial complexities that form the foundation of this tale lies a deep contemplation on the essence of motherhood. In Mary Pat, Lehane has molded a woman in the throes of desperation. She grapples with the desperate struggle to stay afloat, both financially and emotionally. Her desperation is magnified by her desire to be a good mother, offering her daughter a chance at a life better than her own. As her daughter vanishes, she becomes consumed by the desperation for answers, willing to go to any lengths to find closure. Mary Pat is a profoundly multifaceted character, wrestling with her own personal demons, including deep-seated racism. Nevertheless, I found myself drawn into her story, empathizing with her predicament and rooting for her path to redemption.

Lately, Lehane has been heavily immersed in writing, producing, and showrunning television series. In interviews promoting this book, he hinted that it might be his final novel. If Small Mercies marks the culmination of his literary career, it serves as a remarkable note to end on. Nonetheless, for the sake of readers, I hold out hope that more stories are waiting to be told by this gifted author.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 87)

Bonnie Garmus's Lessons in Chemistry has gained a reputation as a genuine literary sensation, a rare book that strikes a chord with every reader who picks it up. I've witnessed countless reviewers and fellow book enthusiasts showering the book with praise, and I've been impressed by the diverse range of readers who have fallen under its spell. Always the inquisitive reader, I knew I had to find out what all the fuss was about. I placed the book on hold at my local library earlier this year. As is often the case with highly sought-after titles, I patiently waited while countless other readers took their turn with the book. Finally, my moment has come. I've set aside all my other reading materials to fully immerse myself in this story, eager to understand the source of its acclaim.

Elizabeth Zott is a chemist whose brilliance is beyond dispute, a fact she herself readily acknowledges. However, in the early 1950s, a woman aspiring to any role beyond that of a secretary or traditional housewife is a novel idea. The male colleagues who share her workspace at the Hastings Research Institute perceive Elizabeth as just another woman. In the predominantly male domain of science, she must wage a constant battle to secure acknowledgment for her work, let alone the recognition she deserves. Amid the institutional skepticism and prejudice, there is one exception: Calvin Evans, a Nobel Prize-nominated scientist who truly appreciates Elizabeth's genius. Their initial interactions foster a unique connection. Bound by their shared interests and remarkable intellects, they cultivate a chemistry that transcends the laboratory. Some might even call it love. 

Indeed, life unfolds as a grand experiment, and Elizabeth swiftly discovers its unpredictability. Suddenly, she finds herself navigating the role of a single mother and, quite unwittingly, becoming the host of a public broadcasting cooking show. After all, cooking is a form of science. True to her character, Elizabeth resists conforming to the mold envisioned by her male producers at the TV station. Instead, she approaches cooking with the same straightforward enthusiasm and expertise that she applies to science. To her delight, the unconventional recipe becomes a resounding success. Yet, her newfound influence doesn't sit well with everyone. It becomes clear that Elizabeth Zott isn't merely instructing women in the art of cooking. She's challenging them to question the established norms and instigating a transformation of the status quo.

Lessons in Chemistry is an absolutely crowd-pleasing joy to read. Bonnie Garmus skillfully creates a protagonist who defies conventional expectations, making her a truly compelling character. She adeptly explores the intricacies of gender roles and societal expectations, all while infusing a dark sense of humor that lightens even the more challenging moments in the story. It masterfully navigates difficult subjects without alienating the reader. Garmus intertwines multiple narrative threads, skillfully bringing them together to a gratifying, albeit somewhat conveniently resolved, conclusion. Lessons in Chemistry genuinely stands out as that rare book that appeals to readers of all tastes, irrespective of their genre preferences. The well-deserved hype surrounding this book is entirely justified. Don't hesitate to dive into it.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 77)

Many epic war novels echo the sentiment that war is hell. Despite my initial fascination with war-related fiction and nonfiction, I found many of these narratives blending together over time. I'm more discerning now, choosing to engage with titles that offer a unique angle. Alice Winn's debut novel, In Memoriam, which centers on a gay couple during WWI, does just that. The book conveys the grim realities of war while also providing a nuanced character study. Amid navigating external battlefields, its protagonists grapple with the internal turmoil they carry within themselves.

Set in the year 1914, during the tumultuous times of World War I, the story begins within the confines of a small English boarding school. As the violent chaos of war rages on, these young men find themselves immersed in the world of poetry and literature, far removed from the actual horrors of combat. This stark contrast in privilege isn't lost on them, and even as news of the valiant soldiers' deaths reaches their ears, the notion of joining the war becomes a tantalizing idea. It offers the prospect of the kind of honorable heroism they've only encountered within the pages of their schoolbooks.

For Gaunt, a student of mixed German descent, the actual battles unfold within. Struggling with his forbidden affection for his charismatic and intelligent friend Ellwood, Gaunt grapples not only with the societal hostility directed at his heritage but also the complexities of unrequited love in a world that won't accept it. Seeking to protect his family and find solace from his inner turmoil, Gaunt enlists in the army and is met with a shocking revelation. Driven by his own motivations, Ellwood has joined the front lines, too. Soon, the entire class is thrust onto the war's brutal stage, forcing them to confront the grim specter of death and the capriciousness of fate.

In Memoriam offers a stark portrayal of the harrowing reality of death and despair within war. Alice Winn's descriptive prose vividly captures the frontlines, evoking scenes that are sometimes emotionally challenging to read. The novel effectively conveys war's immense devastation and loss, painting a grim tableau rarely encountered in fiction. What sets this book apart, though, is its exploration of an additional, equally compelling turmoil. The journey towards self-acceptance, especially in an era hostile to non-conforming sexualities, becomes an absorbing undercurrent. Winn's characters may appear subdued compared to the vivid war scenes, but their growth, stemming from their reactions to external circumstances rather than mere personal agency, adds to their sophistication. The understated yet profound battle against love and shame propels the story forward. The book's emotional impact comes not only from the horrors of war but also from the poignant challenges these young men face. It underscores the idea that just as war presents its own form of hell, life itself can be an arduous journey. In the midst of such adversity, the complex relationships they build become a source of solace and redemption.

For more information, visit Amazon and Goodreads. 

(2023, 57)

"Who can live on love alone?"

Who are the authors you automatically gravitate towards? I have several favorite writers, ones I consistently delve into primarily due to my familiarity with their writing style. There's a sense of comfort that accompanies this familiarity, making them a reliable choice for my reading. And then there's Emma Donoghue. Ever since I devoured her 2010 novel Room in a single sitting, I've been a devoted reader of her work. However, I can't claim that any of her subsequent books have resembled that groundbreaking novel. In fact, I return to Donoghue's writing precisely because I can never anticipate what to expect. None of her novels share similarities. Despite the certainty that her next book will be entirely distinct from the last, I am confident that her talent for creating vivid settings, engaging plots, and well-developed characters will consistently captivate me. Her latest work, Learned by Heart, adheres to this tradition.

This time, Donoghue embarks on a literary journey to craft a fictionalized narrative centered around the historical figure Anne Lister. Lister is celebrated for her groundbreaking marriage in 1824, which positioned her as one of the earliest openly lesbian women to enter into matrimony.  Beyond her sexual orientation, Lister is celebrated as a prominent diarist, and it's these well-documented writings that Donoghue extensively researched to construct the foundation of her novel. Before her widely known marriage, Lister spent her formative years as a student at a boarding school for young girls in York. It is within this educational institution that Donoghue's novel takes its starting point.

Eliza Raine, born to a prominent Englishman and his Indian lover, finds herself on the periphery at Miss Hargrave's Manor school. Her mixed heritage and orphaned heiress status set her apart from the other girls, making her an outsider in a place where being different is not encouraged. The school's primary mission is to mold its students into proper women of the era, often stifling any hint of creativity or individuality they possess. Eliza appears to have resigned herself to this fate, believing she must conform.

Destiny, however, has other plans in store. Enter Miss Lister, a force of nature who disrupts the established order. Unlike the other girls, she refuses to conform and insists on being called by her last name, akin to how a man would be addressed. She willingly shares the cramped attic room with Eliza, avoiding the company of the other girls. Lister stands as a stark contrast to Eliza, taking pride in her intelligence and her rebellious nature, fearlessly challenging the status quo. Over time, Eliza will be gently drawn out of her shell, forging an unbreakable bond with Lister in the process.

Learned by Heart may be Emma Donoghue's most deeply personal novel to date. In her author's note, she reveals that nearly three decades of research have gone into this work, acknowledging how her fascination with Anne Lister played a pivotal role in launching her professional career. This deep reverence for her characters resonates vividly within her prose. Typical of Donoghue's writing, she skillfully transports readers back in time and space, this time ensconcing them within the cozy confines of an attic bedroom. It's in these scenes of self-discovery within confinement that the narrative truly comes alive. The exploration of forbidden thoughts, transgressing both school rules and societal norms, injects a palpable tension into the storyline. This tension, juxtaposed with the more familiar elements of coming-of-age storytelling, weaves a captivating narrative.

I'll briefly note that outside of these gripping moments, there are instances where the plot seems to lose its momentum. Donoghue's meticulous research is evident, but the monotony of school lessons and games doesn't significantly propel the story forward. Readers may find themselves eagerly awaiting a return to the central love story. Nevertheless, Learned by Heart captivates with its poignant blend of historical fact and exquisitely crafted fiction. It is a brilliant testament to why Emma Donoghue remains one of my all-time favorite authors. I extend my heartfelt thanks to her publisher for providing me with a copy of this remarkable book.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 55)

Peruse any local bookstore, and you'll find shelves lined with historical fiction novels set during WWII. Recreations of famous battles, fictionalized versions of real people, and even soaring romances set amongst the rubble of the war are all available to read. The sheer volume of works centered around the subject can be overwhelming. I've always been fascinated with the history of that time, but I've had mixed results with reading the fiction inspired by it. It was with cautious optimism that I accepted a copy of author Luis Alberto Urrea's latest WWII epic Good Night, Irene from his publisher. It was a wonderfully written novel that separates itself from similar fares by focusing on solid character work and meticulously researched scenes. 

The Second World War saw many Americans looking to support the cause in whatever way they could. We've heard countless stories of brave men called to fight for their country, but what about the women? They didn't simply sit at home, waiting for their husbands to return. No, many women participated in the war efforts at home and abroad. Good Night, Irene follows one such group. 

Irene has just called things off with an abusive fiance when she decides to join the Red Cross. The year is 1943, and she is enlisting to serve overseas. Lacking the medical training that would be required to be a nurse, Irene is instead placed into a group of women nicknamed the Donut Dollies. She has been paired with Dorothy, a tall, farm-raised woman who is Irene's complete opposite. As they are planted in Europe, their task is simple. The pair drive around the war zone frying donuts, serving coffee, and spreading a bit of hometown goodwill to the men fighting for freedom. What begins as an adventure of a lifetime soon becomes much more real. The realities of war are at hand, and nothing can shield these women from that fact. 

Luis Alberto Urrea was inspired to write this novel in part by the life of his late mother. He writes in a forward to the book that at the time of his mother's passing in 1990, she left her journals and scrapbooks that revealed the truth about her time in the great war. That personal connection to the story reveals itself within the careful consideration taken to bring each character to life. Urrea inhabits his novel with real people who you can't help but root for. He combines these characters with heart-racing scenes of the war that more than drive the novel's plot. My only real complaint with this one is that the ending was a bit more sentimental than I anticipated. That doesn't make it bad, but it was a bit of a different tone given everything that preceded it. As I read, I was struck by the similarities of that time with the present day. War is still a plague to humanity, and the reverberating impacts of it continue to ripple across generations. Good Night, Irene is a brilliant tribute to the Greatest Generation and a sobering reminder of the horrors of war. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 33)

As the hardships of The Great Depression emerged, the people of the hills of North Carolina buckled down to make ends meet. For many families, this meant grueling days of chipping away at the trees of those hills to produce the sap that helped drive the turpentine industry. It is among these hills that we are introduced to young Rae Lynn Cobb. Rae Lynn has always been a bit aloof, but she's settled into life with her husband Warren. He's a bit older than the kind of man she imagined she would end up with, but he cares for her nonetheless. 

The couple has made a go at their own turpentine endeavor, a life that is as difficult as it is dangerous. It is after years of labor that an act of negligence sees Warren gravely injured. In those final hours, he begs for mercy, and Rae Lynn obliges. There's only one problem, she has no way to prove that ending her husband's life was an act of mercy and not something more nefarious. Desperate to avoid jail, she chops off her hair, disguises herself as a man named Ray, and sets out to work in a turpentine camp in Georgia. 

Delwood Reese has set out to escape some problems of his own. Swallow Hill, a turpentine camp in Georgia, is just about as far away from those troubles as he can get. His experience in the field nets him a job there. The conditions are harsh, and the lodging is meager, but Del is at peace with the place. He encounters a slight young man named Ray, who is far from adequate at meeting his daily quotas. There is something about the man that Del is drawn to, and he soon becomes his protector, shielding Ray from the worst consequences of his inadequate work. As Del earns the trust of the camp's owner, he begins to envision changes to make life in Swallow Hill better.

I'm rarely drawn to historical fiction as a genre, but when I do read it, I want to be transported to the time and place that it depicts. In The Saints of Swallow Hill, Donna Everhart plants her readers amongst the grit and dust of laboring in the turpentine fields. She inhabits this history with characters who are richly drawn in a way that connects the reader to them and the era they live in. Amongst commentary on gender roles, relationships, and racism, Everhart crafts a narrative that speaks to the power of finding your own voice, standing for what you believe in, and learning to trust yourself and others. Once I was firmly planted in the world that Everhart created, I didn't want to leave. Simply put The Saints of Swallow Hill is historical fiction at its best. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2022, 38)

 "God is our pilot now, and we'll go wherever his breath blows us."

In the early part of the 7th century, a group of monks at the monastery Cluain Mhic Nóis are visited by a living saint. Artt's reputation as a man of God precedes him. He's known as a strict servant of the Lord, a man whose faith saw him survive the plague and travel around the globe spreading the word. His opinion of the monks at this particular monastery is that they've become lazy, victims of routine and comfort. Criticisms aside, Artt has come to this place to reveal his vision, a direct message from God showing an island in the western sea. Per divine instruction, Artt will take two companions with him on a journey to find the island and form a new monastery. 

"We are all hurrying towards heaven, and I'm only trying to lighten your load."

The first monk selected to accompany Artt on his prophetic expedition is the elder Cormac, a seasoned storyteller with a body that is starting to falter in his old age. What he lacks in physical strength, he makes up for in wisdom. Trian, the second monk selected to travel with the saint, was abandoned in the monastery at age 13. The young monk is wistful and shy but is eager to follow the reverent Artt to the ends of the earth in service of God's plan. While it is standard for monks to live a meager life of relative poverty, this trio is eschewing even the most basic of provisions for their trip. Artt reminds his companions that God will provide everything they need, so the group faithfully sets sail on their quest to find this promised land. 

"I tell you, Brothers, what seems impossible to us is easy to him."

I have to admit, I normally wouldn't go running to read a historical fiction novel about 7th-century monks. As I read the summary of Emma Donoghue's latest novel Haven, I feared that I may have finally run into a book from the author that just wouldn't be for me. Because her previous novel The Pull of the Stars ended up being my favorite read of 2020, I decided to go against my better judgment and accept a copy of Haven from the publisher. Like her previous book, Haven plants the reader firmly amongst the action, giving us insights into the thoughts and motivation of each of the three main characters as they face an impossible test of faith. It took me a bit longer than I would have hoped to find a rhythm in this writing, but once I was in I couldn't let go. 

Donoghue revels in the mundane, drawing quiet introspective revelations as the monks work to survive on the remote island that they have been called to. The act of maintaining the sabbath while finding food, water, and shelter, sees the plot find a ritualistic repetition akin to the very prayers that the characters chant each day. Make no mistake, these are men of their era, afflicted with blind faith and willful lack of logic that I often found to be frustrating. Had they only thought of the severity of the journey they were embarking upon, much of the conflict in the novel would be unnecessary. Donoghue's commitment to faithfully portraying the mindsets of the men in this time means that they truly remain optimistic that God will give them everything they need, even as cracks in the vision that brought them to this place begin to form. Things come to a head as the threesome each succumbs to their own mortal flaws, bringing the book to a crescendo that seems inevitable if a bit unsatisfying. Haven won't go down as my favorite book by the author, but it is nonetheless another example of her ability to craft a work of historical, emotional, and literary heft. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2022, 35)

"We artists are powerless against our passions."

Music has always been a huge part of my life. I've played piano since I was a child and hold multiple degrees in the subject. I've always had a soft spot for the works of George Gershwin, a composer and performer who bridged the gap between classical and popular music at the start of the 20th century.  His ability to mix elements of jazz within the more traditional sounds of an orchestra allowed his works to transcend time and place. His famous Rhapsody in Blue is still played in concert halls today. I'd bet that even if you've never heard of the composer or his music, you'd recognize the shrill exuberance of the opening clarinet solo from that piece in an instant. When author Mitchell James Kaplan offered me a copy of his latest novel Rhapsody, I was excited to read this historical fiction based upon one of my favorite subjects. 

The novel is centered around Kay Swift, a renowned composer and pianist in her own right. We meet her just as she's heard George Gershwin's new piece Rhapsody in Blue for the first time. The raucous performance is quite the departure from the sounds her classically trained ears are tuned to admire, but she can't deny the appeal of the music. Days later, Kay finds herself still thinking about the piece, even using her perfect pitch to play the bits of the piano part that she remembers. The exhilaration she finds in this music allows her mind to wander a bit from the doldrums of being a woman of high society. Kay studied music at the college that would one day become known as Julliard and played in a trio that gained quite the acclaim among the New York social circle. These days, her musical endeavors are somewhat of an afterthought. Kay dutifully supports her husband and attends the very parties she used to entertain. 

Kay's relationship with her husband has always been one built from expectation rather than love. She married the man from a prominent family and set off on fulfilling the life that was expected of her. Kay knows her husband strays from their marriage when he travels. In fact, the couple has agreed it is in their best interest to seek the lust of others. Kay doesn't act on this arrangement until she catches the attention of Gershwin. What starts as an infatuation over music soon turns into a full-on affair. For Kay, this relationship is the chance at the kind of happiness she's only dreamed of having, a bond that intertwines passion for the arts with devotion to each other. But George sees things a bit differently. He's still a prominent man in an age where parties and excess are the norms. Kay's sense of loyalty wavers between two men, both of who seem keen on not returning the fidelity. 

In Rhapsody Mitchell James Kaplan draws on the rich musical and cultural history of the Jazz Age to inform his brilliant fiction. He sticks mostly to the facts, only turning to fiction to imagine the dialogue between characters and slightly alter dates to keep the narrative flowing. From the opening chapter, I was drawn in by the rich descriptions of the music. Kaplan's ability to express the sounds of the time through written words helps to place the reader directly into the same rooms as the characters. We are enveloped by the sights and sounds. Once placed into this point in history, it is the characters who propel us through the story. The complex relationship between Kay Swift and her lover George Gershwin is brought to life through Kaplan's carefully drawn narrative, paving the way for an emotional connection to a story that until now has only lived in the history books. I was completely captivated by Rhapsody. Kaplan has written a radiant homage to a bygone era, a love letter to music and the people who create it. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 10)

"Woe unto them that are with child."

The year is 1918. The world is in the throngs of a deadly flu pandemic, overcome by crippling death and despair. In Dublin, the country is doubly challenged by both the Great Flu and the World War. With most citizens occupied by one of these two hardships, the city has become, "...a great mouth holed with missing teeth." In a matter of extreme literary foresight, this is the world that author Emma Donoghue has chosen to set her latest novel. The Pull of the Stars sees Donoghue tackle the pandemic of 1918 in a novel that takes on an ever more poignant tone given the state of the COVID-19 pandemic that the world continues to grapple with today. Her works always resonate with me emotionally, but the parallels between this historical fiction and the real world make this particular novel all the more affecting.

We meet Julia as she approaches the stone facade of the hospital, mentally preparing herself for the daunting day that lies ahead. As a nurse who has also trained as a midwife, the twenty-nine-year-old has been assigned to the makeshift maternity ward specifically reserved for those expectant mothers who have contracted the flu. Julia enters the overstuffed room to see that the middle of the three hospital beds is empty. Another life was lost in the night. This is a new reality. Julia quietly makes a small scratch in the back of her pocket watch, a silent and permanent acknowledgment of the lost life. With hospital beds overflowing and hospital staff hard to come by, Julie knows two things. One, it will not take long for that empty bed to host the next woman. Two, she will be overseeing the care of this ward completely on her own.

"Patient first, hospital next, self last.

Julia is right on both accounts. The night nurse, a stern and disapproving nun from the local convent, informs Julia that she will be the sole nurse for the meager maternity room. Julia is quickly overwhelmed by the sheer multitude of her daily tasks. One patient is in and out of consciousness, struck by the absolute worst parts of this horrid illness. She is able to stop the fits long enough to vomit all over the floor, leaving Julia to tend to her patients while also completing janitorial duties. Relief comes in the form of Birdie, a young woman who has been plucked from the streets to assist in any way possible. Birdie has no training in nursing, let alone even the most primary understanding of basic human anatomy, but she is a welcome sight. Unprompted, she begins mopping the mess on the floor allowing Julia to tend to the patients uninterrupted. As if on cue, the orderlies bring another pregnant woman into the room, filling the last remaining bed.

From a plot perspective, that is pretty much the focus of The Pull of the Stars. We follow Julia as she makes her way through a couple of days in this hospital room. Women come and go, giving birth in between. Some are successful, bringing in new life amongst the despair of this plague. Others are tragic, a reminder that this life is not promised to us, even in birth. The cramped confines of this impromptu ward become a microcosm of the world at large. Just like those lives outside, Julia and the women in her care are forced to reckon with the mystery of life in a time of unparalleled adversity.

Emma Donoghue is known for placing her readers directly into the worlds that her novels are set within. We were all in that storage shed with Jack and his kidnapped mother in Donoghue's novel Room. In Akin, she transported us to the streets of France as an elderly man searched for answers to his family history. It comes as no surprise then that The Pull of the Stars plants us directly amongst the crowded beds of the hospital. We feel the joy, hope, and pain as Donoghue writes of every striking detail. The medical procedures are given as much credence as the emotional strife that happens in between. The characters soar off of the page, connecting on a level that only the most well-tuned authors are able to create. There is an innate intimacy that exists between a nurse and her patients, a trust that forms between two relative strangers. Donoghue invites us into that confidence, allowing us to experience all of the emotions that the women in that room do. This emotional prowess combines with the strange synchroneity of this historical novel mirroring the events of our present-day pandemic to make for a read that touches the reader on every level. We are only halfway through this eventful year, but The Pull of the Stars is already my favorite novel of the year.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2020, 32)

Laura Lippman has consistently been one of my "go-to" authors for years. With each new title in her ever-growing catalog, she blends touches of mystery and suspense with a plethora of various genres. I was a bit underwhelmed with her last novel, Sunburn, so I was eager to see Lippman redeem herself with her latest.  Lady in the Lake is a return to form for the author and the kind of novel that made me a fan of her writing in the first place.

Maddie Schwartz is living the quintessential, picture-perfect life of a housewife in 1966. She has a husband with a successful career, a teenage son who she adores,  and she spends her days keeping up with her home and friends. Despite all of this, she can't help but feel like something is missing. When an old fling turns up at a dinner party, Maddie is reminded of the youthful zeal and promise that she abandoned in favor of her current life. Not content to leave well enough alone, she bolts from her marriage and life as she knows it. She spent twenty years being the person everyone else wanted her to be, but now it is time for Maddie to discover her own passions and desires.

Maddie quickly sees how her previous life sheltered her from the realities of the world. She lives in a dilapidated apartment in the African-American part of Baltimore, the only place she can afford. Looking to make her mark on the world, she stumbles upon the body of a murdered girl. Maddie quickly parlays this discovery into a job at the Star newspaper and begins to work toward her goal of becoming a columnist. When everyone else dismisses the murder of young Cleo Sherwood, Maddie suspects something more. She follows her intuition to dig into the untimely death. If she uncovers something big, this could mean the beginning of a prosperous career. At every turn, Maddie is discouraged from proceeding with her investigation. Someone wants their secrets to be buried with Sherwood and will stop at nothing to prevent them from rising to the surface.

Lady in the Lake is Laura Lippman writing at her best. She mixes an underlying mystery with historical fiction that soars from the pages. Lippman alternates between chapters about Maddie with others written from the perspective of various people that Maddie encounters. This gives the narrative a depth that further enhances the world Lippman creates. There are also the occasional soliloquies of the dead Cleo Sherwood commenting on Maddie's investigation. These ghostly speeches only add to the suspense and dread that lies just beneath the surface of this story. While I wasn't really shocked by the revelations at the end of the book, I don't think that's the point of the novel. The mystery is there more to aid in the telling of the historical story and the growth of Maddie as a character. This book expertly combines compelling characters with historical details and a touch of mystery that makes it into a really solid read.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2019, 29)

A couple of years ago, I was blown away by Colson Whitehead's The Underground Railroad. That award-winning novel combined the dark history of slavery with fantastical surrealism that completely stunned me. Whitehead cleverly imagined a world where the underground railroad was an actual railroad that carried slaves through a tunnel system under America. Each stop illustrated a different time period of African American oppression. That monumental novel was the kind of read that lingered in the back of my mind and left me wanting more. In The Nickel Boys, Whitehead's latest novel, he forgoes the fantasy of his previous work in favor of historical fiction that stays rooted in the harsh realities of its subject matter.

Elwood Curtis is coming into his own as an upstanding citizen within segregated Tallahassee. He never really knew his parents, but his stern grandmother has ensured he toes the line. He diligently commits to his studies in school and works hard after school as a shopkeep. At night, Elwood plays a record of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. speaking on the hope of equal rights. Emboldened by the words of Dr. King and the no-nonsense guidance of his grandmother, Elwood's future is looking bright. He's even been selected to attend college classes. Unfortunately, Elwood is about to get a grim reminder of how unjust the world can be.

A classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time leaves Elwood charged with a crime he didn't commit. Rather than be imprisoned in the traditional sense, Elwood is sent to The Nickel Academy, a school that claims to rehabilitate troubled boys. He tries to make the best of a bad situation. The manicured grounds and meticulously maintained buildings of Nickel shine with the promise of providing the young men with a structured path to reentering society. To Elwood, it seems simple enough.  If you follow the rules and do the time, you will be set free. In reality, Nickel follows the same cruel pattern of corruptness, racism, violence, and torture that was all too common during the Jim Crow era. The bright optimism that permeates Elwood's being is about to be shattered by the malice of racist oppression.

The Nickel Boys sees Colson Whitehead return to many of the themes that were in The Underground Railroad in a way that is decidedly different from that novel. There's no magical railroad to lead Elwood to safety. He's stuck in the agonizing hell of Nickel, and we live every moment of that pain and hopelessness with him. Whitehead based Nickel on the real and equally appalling Dozier School for Boys which only ceased operation back in 2011. Since the closing, mass graves of the abused youth who spent time there have been discovered, adding another ripple to the United State's dark history of racism.

Whitehead deserves much credit for his ability to balance the horrors of Nickel with the youthful antics of the students inhabiting it. Each scene that humanized the boys as normal, relatable kids only made the scenes of unflinching torture all the more harrowing. On a larger scale, Nickel can be seen as a metaphor to the United States itself. From the outside looking in, there's the pristine exterior of promise and hope. It is only in the shadows of the inside that the darker proclivities are revealed. Stories like the one told in The Nickel Boys are essential to understanding American history and the struggles with race and oppression that exist to this day. Through his splendid writing, Colson Whitehead continues to shine his authorial light upon these dark, but fundamental subjects.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2019, 28)

I can't believe that it is already July. Where has 2019 gone?! Even though I had to work this Independence Day, I still snuck in some time to continue my summer reading. Last winter, I took a chance on Elin Hilderbrand's Winter series. Her novels perfectly encapsulated the feeling of the season. I binged all four books within a few days and vowed to read more of her books whenever I could. Enter Summer of '69, Hilderbrand's latest release and first foray into historical fiction. Just as the Winter series entranced me, this latest book quickly drew me in and took me on a great journey.

The novel sees Hilderbrand blend the rich history of 1969 with her usual approach of following the drama of a family. She deftly presents this history through the lens of the extended Levin family. They root the overarching themes in an easy to digest and relatable family drama. The family has a tradition of visiting Nantucket island each summer to spend time with matriarch Kate's mother. Despite each individual's own reservations about this yearly vacation, they still value the time they have to spend together. But this year, things just aren't going to proceed as planned.

Eldest daughter Blair is staying home this year. She and her rocket scientist husband are expecting their first child, and she is simply too pregnant to travel. Plus, her husband is busy working on the imminent lunar landing. Middle daughter Kirby is the rebel of the family. After spending time protesting and walking with MLK, she has decided to spend time with her friend's family on Martha's Vinyard. It should serve as a check on her privilege and give her some much-needed rest before she heads back to nursing school. The lone boy in the family Tiger can't take a vacation for a completely different reason. Like most other healthy, young men his age, he's been drafted to Vietnam.  This leaves the youngest daughter Jessie to fend for herself as she spends the summer with her mother and grandmother.

I never thought I would enjoy anything Hilderbrand wrote more than the Winter series, but Summer of '69 might just take the cake. Simply put, this is what summer reading is all about. Hilderbrand writes a compelling drama with a brisk pace, all set before the backdrop of one of the most significant years in American history. Hilderbrand takes some authorial license with some of the exact histories, but only ever in the service of providing a more accurate emotional payoff for her characters. She doesn't veer from the tougher aspects of our history. Hilderbrand tackles racism, sexism, and alcoholism in a way that his honest and ever reverential to the people who face them. Summer of '69 is a pure delight to read and serves as a nearly flawless summer read.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2019, 24)

I've had a busy summer keeping up with a reading schedule of mostly new releases. I have a few weeks before my next ARC hits the shelves, so I've decided to take the next couple of weeks to catch up on some of the books that have been languishing on my shelf. To kick things off, I turned to a book that has been on my shelf for nearly a decade. The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters first caught my eye when it appeared in the top spot on Stephen King's best books of the year list in 2009. I was just starting my undergraduate degree and was turning to fiction as an escape from my other course reading. I quickly bought a copy of the novel, and it has sat on my bookshelves ever since. Nine years and hundreds of books later, I finally decided to give it a read.

"We see what punishing business it is, simply being alive."

Following the end of WWII, the once sprawling estate of Hundreds Hall has turned into a disheveled remnant of a time that is soon to be forgotten. Most of the rooms sit vacant, in fact, the entire estate is empty save for an elderly mother and her two adult children. Each child does their part to keep the home running. The daughter tends to the home as best as she can while keeping her mother occupied. The son, injured from the war, does his part to keep the farm afloat. The mother spends her days thinking back on the way things used to be.

Things seem to be looking up for the family when they are finally able to gain the aide of the young housemaid. Sure, it is not the large staff that used to keep Hundreds Hall buzzing with activity and prestige, but any help is welcome. When the young girl falls ill, the family decides to ring Dr. Faraday, the son of a maid who worked his way to become a successful country doctor. Faraday quickly surmises that the girl's illness is not a physical ailment but rather simple homesickness. Faraday prescribes a day off and is on his way. But something keeps drawing him back to Hundreds Hall. The more time he spends there, the more sinister it seems.

I went into this one expecting a novel filled with shock and horror. What I got was a more straight-forward work of historical fiction with slight tinges of understated suspense. That's not to say that The Little Stranger isn't scary. Rather than the pure horror of the traditional sense, Waters writes a nuanced character study that brims with a dark undertone that is far more unsettling. After making it through the rather laborious opening portion of the book, I found myself completely enthralled with the characters who inhabit it. The decaying home of Hundreds Hall becomes a physical representation of the characters as they erode into the hysteria of paranoia and unrest. I don't know that The Little Stranger will end up making my own year-end list of best books, but I do know that it provided a chilling read and different pace from my usual summer reading.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.

(2018, 31)

"And saving that one life now is akin to saving the world."

How do we reconcile the horrors of the Holocaust? Countless men, women, and children were senselessly murdered during the years of World War II. Since the horrifying events of those years, authors have done their parts to make sure we never forget. There are, of course, the real-life accounts like the Diary of Anne Frank and the hauntingly poignant writings of the late Elie Wiesel. Many other authors have turned to fiction to portray the events of those years. In his latest novel, The One Man, author Andrew Gross takes a departure from his usual thrillers to add his voice to those who have preceded him. Gross decides to take on the horrors of the Holocaust with a historical fiction novel that graphically displays the injustices of the genocide while celebrating the heroism of the brave few who defied it.

The year is 1944 and physicist Alfred Mendel has finally succumbed to the same fate of his friends and neighbors before him. Mendel and his entire family have been rounded up by the Germans, stripped of their possessions, and shipped to Auschwitz. He is quickly separated from his family and forced to live and work under the brutal conditions of the camp. Little do the Nazis know the true power that Alfred holds. He is one of only two people in the world with the scientific knowledge needed to produce a weapon of unspeakable proportions. He alone holds the power that could mean potential victory in this war.

Nathan Blum narrowly escaped the clutches of the Germans when he fled from the confines of a Polish ghetto. As he sought refuge in America, word reached him that his family was murdered in cold blood on the streets of that same ghetto. Since that time, Nathan has worked a desk job at a U.S. intelligence agency. He is determined to make amends with the killing of his family, and the U.S. government may have the perfect way. Nathan is fluent in both German and Polish. He has the undeniable features that match those who are prisoners in the camps. And most importantly, he has a deep hatred for the Nazi's and everything they stand for. All of these characteristics make Blum an ideal candidate to take on one of the most dangerous operations ever conceived. He will sneak into the one place he as done everything in his power to avoid,  and he will rescue the one man who can change the course of the war.

The One Man sees Andrew Gross shift gears to deliver one of the most important novels of his career. The suspense practically writes itself as Gross tells the story of a man breaking into the one place that so many long to leave. The mission is do or die. If Nathan achieves his goal, it has the potential to end the war and save the lives of those he left behind. If he fails, he becomes just another innocent life lost to the evil ideologies of the German Nazis. It is a given at this point that Gross delivers the break-neck pacing of a seasoned thriller writer. What sets The One Man apart from his previous endeavors is the depth of the characters and the delicacy with which he deals with the subject matter.

There is no shortage of writings that detail the horrendous treatment of the prisoners in the concentration camps. While Gross provides quick glimpses into these horrors, he smartly avoids a retread of those difficult reads. Instead, he focuses the majority of his novel on the men and women who inhabited the camp. By granting his characters the ability to express their genuine thoughts and emotions and giving them the necessary time to develop, Gross provides readers with a larger understanding of the complexities of each human life involved in this incredible moment in history. Gross frames these remarkable character revelations through his well-trodden thriller roots. This makes the uncomfortable realities of the situation a bit easier to digest. The One Man exceeds my highest expectations by delivering an unputdownable novel that manages to both thrill and inspire. Andrew Gross delivers the most mature novel of his career, a novel that will be very hard to top.

For more information, visit the Author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.

(2017, 6)