A Book A Week

Téa Obreht has been a fixture in the literary landscape for as long as I can remember. I recall when I first began blogging about books, her debut novel, The Tiger's Wife, was on everyone's reading list. Like many instances since, I eagerly purchased the book, caught up in the excitement, only to let it languish unread on my shelf. There it remained, untouched, a silent reminder of my tendency to be swayed by the latest literary trends. While perusing the new arrivals at my local library, I recently stumbled upon Obreht's latest offering, The Morningside. Once again, I was drawn to the allure of a shiny new title, conveniently overlooking the neglected books waiting for me at home. This time, I made a conscious decision to follow through. Over the course of several days, I immersed myself in the pages of The Morningside, finally experiencing Obreht's writing firsthand. 

In The Morningside, the eponymous building stands as a symbol of faded grandeur, a once opulent high-rise now fallen into disrepair. Set in the not-too-distant future, the story unfolds in a world ravaged by the effects of climate change, where a Manhattan-like city has succumbed to flooding and a dwindling population. In response to these challenges, the government has devised a repopulation program, recruiting refugees with promises of a secure future within the city's confines. Despite these assurances, the anticipated influx of residents and laborers has yet to materialize, leaving the National Bureau of Posterity to advocate for patience and perseverance in the face of uncertainty. The echoes of past glory still linger, fueling hope for a resurgence of prosperity on the horizon.

In this building, we encounter Silvia, an eleven-year-old newcomer who resides with her mother. Encouraged by her mother to assimilate into their new surroundings, Silvia is instructed to converse only in the local language, concealing their past from prying eyes. While Silvia yearns for excitement and adventure, her mother's aspirations are more modest. She seeks only a life of quiet solitude for themselves and her fellow expatriates.

Silvia's longing for something beyond the ordinary is kindled by the enchanting tales spun by her aunt Ena, the superintendent of The Morningside. Ena regales Silvia with fantastical stories, including one about a mysterious artist residing on the building's 33rd floor, accompanied by three unusually large dogs. “Isn’t it obvious? They’re not dogs,” Ena says. “They’re men during the day and dogs at night.” Through these captivating tales, Silvia is transported to a realm of boundless imagination that starkly contrasts her mother's more pragmatic aspirations for her future. As she'll soon discover, the fancies of imagination can have dire consequences in the real world.

There's a wealth of themes to delve into within The Morningside, and Téa Obreht makes a valiant effort to integrate these elements into a cohesive narrative. Through the innocent perspective of Silvia, the child protagonist, readers are transported to a world where perception clashes with reality. The novel confronts the undeniable impacts of climate change, immigration, and warfare, yet the inhabitants of this fictional world remain fixated on the past rather than addressing the present challenges. Silvia's inquisitive nature serves as a driving force, leading her to explore the lives of her fellow residents within The Morningside. As she unravels their stories, the novel touches upon many complex themes.

Despite its ambition to tackle nuanced topics, the novel struggles to maintain a clear narrative focus as it progresses. Instead, it meanders from one exploration to another, leaving little time for readers to deeply engage with the underlying subjects. When the novel finally confronts the harsh realities beneath its fantastical facade toward the end of the book, it is delivered as a shocking twist. Instead of allowing readers the space to ponder the weighty implications of the significant revelation, Obreht appears to employ it primarily for its shock value, diminishing the opportunity for genuine emotional resonance. Ultimately, The Morningside presents readers with many themes to unpack, but its erratic pacing and lack of narrative direction detract from its potential impact, rendering it more of a mystery than a satisfying revelation.

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

(2024, 35)

Over the past few months, I've plunged deeply into the realm of true crime literature. Something about how these books capture real-life perspectives and experiences within extraordinary circumstances has consistently interested me. Elon Green's Last Call recently garnered attention as it was adapted and expanded into an HBO miniseries. This book delves into the chilling account of a serial killer who terrorized gay men in New York during the '80s and '90s. The moment I first heard about it, I was intrigued. Before diving into the television adaptation, though, I knew it was crucial to read the book. So, I borrowed a copy of Last Call from my library and eagerly immersed myself in its pages.

In the year 1992, The Townhouse Bar in Midtown, New York City, held a special significance for gay men in the city. It was a refuge where they could embrace their true selves without the looming fear of ridicule or violence. At the bar's heart, a group of men gathered around the piano, their voices raised in enthusiastic harmony with their favorite show tunes, relishing a precious moment of genuine self-expression.

Amidst this exuberant crowd, one man chose to stand slightly apart. He nursed a scotch and water, his demeanor utterly inconspicuous, blending seamlessly into the background. He was intentionally unmemorable, ensuring that no one in the bar could later recall his face. This very anonymity was his greatest weapon. His eyes were fixed on an older, gray-haired man, but not with romantic intentions. Instead, he saw his next unsuspecting victim. 

The Last Call Killer preyed upon gay men in New York during the '80s and '90s, displaying the chilling characteristics commonly associated with the most notorious serial killers. However, the memory of his murders has faded into obscurity due to the high murder rates of that era, the impact of the AIDS epidemic, and the sexual orientation of his victims. Elon Green's book provides a detailed chronicle of the lengthy pursuit to unmask this elusive killer. Simultaneously, it paints a poignant portrait of his victims and the resilient community that navigated the constant threat while demonstrating remarkable strength in the face of adversity.

Being a gay man myself, I was deeply struck by the apparent negligence of the authorities in their pursuit of the killer and the quest for justice. The prevalent homophobia within the NYPD blinded them to the connections between the murders, resulting in a decades-long delay in bringing the perpetrator to account. It was also disheartening to witness how many of the victims were compelled to lead closeted lives, often maintaining a double existence with a spouse and children. Tragically, their authentic selves remained hidden until their untimely deaths exposed their true identities.

Elon Green's work comprehensively examines the case, offering insights from various angles, including perspectives from law enforcement, the victims' families, and their friends. It is both astonishing and troubling that a case of such magnitude, unfolding in one of the world's largest cities, remained relatively obscured for an extended period due to deep-seated biases. Last Call accomplishes the vital task of giving a voice to those who were silenced while delivering a compelling and essential story that demands to be shared.

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

(2023, 80)

Exploring the shelves at my local library, I aimed to discover a chilling read suitable for the current season. Christopher Golden's name immediately captured my attention as an author I recognized but had yet to read. The eerie cover of Road of Bones seemed like a promising introduction to his writing. At just 228 pages, I deemed it a manageable choice to give his work a try. Upon completing the book, I had mixed feelings about the overall experience. Nevertheless, I can clearly see why Golden has earned his reputation as a popular horror author.

Golden places his novel within a haunting real-world setting. Stretching more than 1200 miles through Siberia, the Kolyma Highway, known as the Road of Bones, exposes travelers to frigid winter temperatures plummeting as low as sixty degrees below zero. In the era of Stalin, this route saw the construction of over eighty Soviet gulags, forming a workforce for the USSR. Tragically, the relentless toil claimed the lives of innumerable prisoners. Their bodies were laid to rest beneath the road's surface, concealed by the unyielding permafrost. This bleak backdrop becomes the stage for Golden's unfolding fiction.

We are introduced to Teig and Prentiss, a documentary producer and his cameraman. Their sights are locked onto the infamous Road of Bones, a location ripe for their reality show concoction—blending historical truth with manufactured intrigue for maximum impact. Accompanied by a local Yakut guide, they venture towards Oymyakon, Earth's coldest settlement. Upon arrival, an ominous sight awaits. The abandoned town is frozen in time, its inhabitants seemingly vanished without a trace. Inexplicable footprints lead into the forest. Within one desolate house resides a traumatized 9-year-old girl, a lone witness to unfathomable horrors. As they unravel the mysteries, Teig, Prentiss, and their companions are about to unearth a terror far beyond their expectations.

From its opening pages, Christopher Golden's Road of Bones gripped my attention, transporting me to the frigid setting with a tangible chill in the air. By merging history with supernatural horror, Golden infuses his chilling tale with unsettling realism. His mastery lies in immersing readers within his characters' psyche, inviting us to experience their fear firsthand rather than by mere observation.

While the initial scenes promised a Roanoke-esque mystery, the narrative momentum waned as the story progressed. The book's brevity maintained a brisk pace yet left scant room for character growth. Consequently, forming a strong connection to any individual character proved challenging. More disconcerting, the plot's evolution shifted from a historically-infused ghostly narrative to a frosty game of cat and mouse. As I concluded the book, I remained captivated by Golden's adept prose yet disheartened by the narrative's unfulfilled potential. While I cannot offer a wholehearted recommendation for this particular book, I'm still captivated by Christopher Golden's potential as a writer. Considering the positive reception his other works have garnered from fellow readers, I'm eagerly anticipating delving into one of his alternative titles.

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

(2023, 66)

Before delving into my customary review for this week, I'd like to take a moment to celebrate a significant milestone for A Book A Week. Since 2012, I've maintained consistent blogging, documenting my literary journeys. Every year, I set a target of reading at least one book per week, tallying up to 52 books annually. Over time, my success rate has varied, influenced by life's fluctuations. Occasional interruptions have caused me to fall short of the goal, while recent years have seen me comfortably meet the December 31st deadline. This year, however, has been exceptional. Today, with a good four months remaining on the calendar, I'm thrilled to present my review for the 52nd book, achieving my goal in record time! If I continue at my current pace of reading and posting, which seems likely, this year will stand as my most prolific reading endeavor to date. With titles like the one I'm sharing with you today, it is easy to see why. 

In crime fiction, a unique niche has emerged where authors choose the podcast format to tell their tales. As literary trends surface, authors inevitably contribute their interpretations. The outcome of this foray into podcast-driven mysteries has been a mixed bag, yet talents like Megan Goldin and Holly Jackson have harnessed its potential to great success. In 2020, I was introduced to the debut novel of the writing duo L.R. Dorn. Their work, titled The Anatomy of Desire, unfolded as a series of transcribed podcast episodes while simultaneously taking on the challenge of reimagining the classic novel An American Tragedy. Despite my initial reservations about such an ambitious undertaking, the result was a captivating read that skillfully blended an engrossing mystery with a contemporary twist on a timeless tale. In their latest release, With a Kiss We Die, Dorn once again employs the podcast-style narrative, this time with no overt ties to classic literary works. 

Propelled by the charismatic Ryanna Raines, The Raines Report, a true-crime podcast, has amassed a dedicated following. Recognized for its compelling investigative journalism and Ryanna's fearless determination, the show's popularity continues to surge. Now, armed with a voice recorder and an unyielding quest for justice, Ryanna steps into uncharted territory. She's about to participate in a live criminal investigation that tests her investigative acumen like never before.

A jolting double homicide within a lavish Southern California estate has reverberated through the affluent community. While the initial shock of the crime garnered immediate attention, it's the identities of the prime suspects that are poised to ignite a media frenzy. The couple's twenty-two-year-old son and his college theater student girlfriend are positioned at the heart of the inquiry. The pair teeters on the precipice of impending arrest and legal proceedings. In an attention-grabbing twist, they've exclusively sought Ryanna's engagement, offering interviews with the aim of authentically representing their viewpoint. Through a meticulous series of penetrating interviews, Ryanna navigates diverse vantage points, delving beneath surface contradictions to unveil an eerie and disquieting truth.

With a Kiss We Die showcases L.R. Dorn refining the style introduced in their debut, expertly amplifying the form for a multidimensional book. The story carries shades of a Bonnie & Clyde dynamic as the central couple fights to assert their innocence, yet Dorn skillfully avoids incorporating any direct source material. This allows for a fresh and original narrative. Amidst uncertainty surrounding the accused, Ryanna Raines emerges as the unwavering force committed to unearthing the truth. By anchoring Raines as an unequivocally virtuous character, Dorn provides a stable focal point for readers amidst the enigma of the alleged murderers. Presented in the format of podcast episodes, each chapter adds a layer of realism to the story, immersing readers in its fictional world. As I observed in Dorn's previous work, acclimating to the podcast-style narrative on a written page required an adjustment. I switched between the physical book and the audiobook and found the latter to offer a particularly engaging experience. Regardless of the chosen format, L.R. Dorn undeniably emerges as a distinctive voice within this densely populated genre.

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

(2023, 52)

Amidst the relentless Texas heat this week, I'm capitalizing on the opportunity by seeking refuge indoors, accompanied by the soothing embrace of air conditioning and the pages of an engaging book. The literary world has been swept up by Shelby Van Pelt's Remarkably Bright Creatures since its emergence in the spring of 2022, a title that caught my attention through the abundance of bookstagram features it garnered. Drawn to its heartwarming story and unique narrator, I was enticed to read it from the moment I came across it. 

Now, why has it taken me this long to dive in? The explanation is rather straightforward: I found myself at position 642 on the waitlist at my local library. Over the course of several months, I watched this number steadily diminish until, at last, I received a notification this week informing me that my turn had come to experience the book. Wasting no time, I eagerly delved in, and I'm delighted to affirm that Remarkably Bright Creatures proved to be well worth the wait.  

Loss is a familiar companion to Tova. Almost thirty years ago, her teenage son Erik vanished, last seen sailing on a boat in Puget Sound, never to return home. More recently, she mourned the passing of her devoted husband. Left alone in a phase of life that feels like a transition, she has found solace in a newfound routine. As the nighttime janitor at the Sowell Bay Aquarium, Tova's role in instilling order within the facility provides her with a fleeting yet essential sense of purpose.

Cameron, a young man on a quest to discover his path in the world, enters the scene. Raised primarily by his aunt, Cameron's life has been shaped by his mother's unceasing battle for stability and the void left by his absent father. When we encounter him, he has decided to invest every last cent he possesses into a journey to Sowell Bay, driven by a fervent desire to uncover the truth about his father's identity. Could this voyage finally unveil the answers he has long yearned for?

Lastly, we encounter Marcellus, the giant Pacific Octopus. Held captive within the confines of the aquarium for several years, Marcellus stands as an embodiment of intelligence and perceptiveness. Unfortunately, he is acutely aware that he approaches the end of his species' average lifespan. Faced with his impending demise, Marcellus forms an unlikely bond with the night custodian of the building. While he typically regards humans with indifference, this particular woman intrigues him. He detects a deep sadness within her, which he eventually learns is rooted in the loss of her son and the unresolved questions that continue to haunt her. As his final act, Marcellus is determined to give her the answers she seeks.

It is easy to see why Remarkably Bright Creatures is as popular as it is. This book embodies the type of compulsively engaging narrative that I find myself craving during the summer season. Shelby Van Pelt masterfully crafts a work populated by a group of characters, each possessing a charming complexity that endears them to the reader. It was impossible for me not to be drawn into the human characters' pursuit of purpose, a theme that struck a chord within me. The true standout, however, is Marcellus, the octopus, a sentient being who assumes the mantle of the narrator and injects the story with a witty sarcasm that brilliantly counterbalances the more tender moments from the human perspective. His "woe is me" mindset had me chuckling at various points throughout the book. While perceptive readers may foresee the eventual convergence of these characters well before the pivotal revelations in the closing chapters, such foreknowledge should not dissuade you from embarking on this literary journey. The book offers a heartwarming slice of summer fiction, with a touch of depth that elevates it to a rewarding experience. I found myself thoroughly charmed by its pages.

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

(2023, 49)

You probably have yet to hear of Erin French. The odds of you having ever dined at her exclusive restaurant The Lost Kitchen are slim. The 40-seat eatery has been lauded with awards and recognition, becoming one of the world's most coveted places to eat. Diners are selected by submitting handwritten postcards to the local post office. Only a lucky few are drawn to attend. French has become more well-known in recent years due to her appearance on her own show on Johanna Gaine's Magnolia Network. That's where I first learned of the chef and her restaurant. I was drawn by her connection to her hometown of Freedom, Maine, and her commitment to only using fresh/local ingredients from her community. I devoured the three seasons of her show, and have been eagerly waiting for more from her. When I learned that French had written a memoir, I rushed to my library to borrow a copy. 

The story of Erin's life is centered on her hometown of Freedom, Maine. Freedom is the place she grew up. It is where her father owned a diner and the place she honed her skills in the kitchen. Freedom is also the place she couldn't wait to get away from. As soon as she was able to, she ran away to college, hoping to leave her small town behind for good. An unplanned pregnancy halted her dreams and forced Erin to move back home. It was here that she began hosting small dinners, part of a traveling supper club that she used to support herself and her small child. It was here where she first fell in love, both with the idea of cooking for people and with her first husband. As she chronicles the events of her life, it is clear that Erin would not be where she is today without the never-ending heartbeat of her hometown.  

In Finding Freedom chef Erin French highlights her journey to becoming a food superstar. She writes honestly about her struggles. French faced abusive relationships that nearly sidelined her dreams of being a chef. She doesn't hold back in writing about how she lived through those terrible moments in life, hitting a low when she checked herself into a rehab facility and completely lost her business and custody of her son. Despite these trials, French stayed true to who she was and persevered. Ironically, she ultimately found her own freedom in her aptly-named hometown. As a fan of her and her show, I really enjoyed learning about how the events in her life brought her to where she is now. Her past is rarely mentioned in the show, so it was fascinating to learn of her beginnings. Even if this review is the first time you've heard of Erin French, I think there is a universal relatability in her story that will appeal to all readers. 

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

(2023, 15)

October is here, bringing my favorite time of the year. The humidity of the South Texas summer has given way to a slight crispness in the air, the perfect weather to curl up with a light blanket and a good book. With the spooky season finally upon us, I've decided to pepper in some horror reads among the other books on my TBR list. Laird Hunt's 2018 novel In the House in the Dark of the Woods recently caught my eye at my local library. It promised an "indigenous horror story set in Colonial New England," a premise I couldn't pass up. At a little over 200 pages, I hoped the book would be a quick start to my seasonal reading. 

The world outside is strange and wonderful, dark and foreboding. The woman leaves her man and boy to enter the woods in search of berries. She becomes lost amongst the trees, encountering bizarre places and people along the way. What secrets do these dark woods hold? The woman's duty to her family beckons her forward, her desire to find her way home forcing her through situations she would never have dreamed of. Fantasy and reality blend together into a dark fairy tale that will leave the woman forever changed by the things she encounters. 

In the House in the Dark of the Woods is a peculiar read, something more akin to a folktale than horror in the literal sense. Think Lewis Carrol's Wonderland mixed with Hansel and Gretel. Lair Hunt's lyrical prose enraptured me from the start, but I struggled to invest in the story he portrayed. There's no real sense of direction to the novel. Instead, we bear witness to one woman encountering oddity after oddity. What began as an intriguing setup brimming with a dark undertone gave way to an annoyance that nothing of real consequence seemed to be happening. Even after reading the entire book, I still can't say with confidence that I fully understand what exactly happened. The atmosphere is certainly creepy, but In the House in the Dark of the Woods offers little else. 

For more information visit Amazon and Goodreads. 

(2022, 44)