A Book A Week

There are moments when we, as readers, indulge in books for pleasure and enjoyment, while other times, we opt to challenge ourselves. I've always been a mood reader, gravitating towards whichever story captures my interest at a given moment. However, there are certain books that I choose to read as a means of expanding my literary horizons. When packing books for my recent Caribbean cruise, I primarily selected quick page-turners and crime thrillers. Yet, once on vacation, I yearned for something more substantial. I turned to my Kindle, where Hernan Diaz's Trust had been waiting since I impulsively purchased it after it won the Pulitzer in fiction last year. Disconnected from the rest of the world and fully absorbed in the ship's gentle rocking and the soothing hum of the waves, I began to read. The title is fitting, as 'trust' is precisely what you need when embarking on this novel, presented in four distinct parts. If you trust and stick with Diaz's writing, you'll soon be rewarded...mostly.

Part one unfolds as a brief novella titled "Bonds," a creation by a long-forgotten author, Harold Vanner, from the 1930s. It narrates the story of America's wealthiest man, Benjamin Rask, a man so accustomed to his privilege that he could never anticipate the tragic turn his life would take. In contrast to his father, who amassed a substantial fortune in the tobacco industry through his sociable nature and knack for sales, Benjamin relished in his solitude. While he might not have cultivated the social connections his father was known for, he possessed a talent for handling money. Benjamin turned his significant but not colossal inheritance into an unimaginable fortune, catching the attention of his colleagues and competitors. From the Roaring 20s to the crash of 1929, he employed an almost preternatural intuition to profit and sell, remaining oblivious to the devastation the crash would unleash on everyone else.

Benjamin's life transformed when he encountered the woman who would become his wife. She serves as a perfect counterpoint to him—equally at ease in her contemplative solitude, eccentric yet private. The couple captured the fascination of society, an allure that intensified as they withdrew from the public eye. Speculations about corruption within Rask's fortune began to circulate, particularly as he navigated the financial minefield of the Great Depression, unscathed. As if to demonstrate that even mere suspicions of impropriety must face an inevitable reckoning, the narrative hurtles toward the forewarned tragedy—a climax that manages to both shock and satisfy. Just as "Bonds" concludes with its tragic finale, Diaz seamlessly transitions to the second part of his novel, initiating the next layer of his intricate narrative.

Trust initially presented a challenge for me to navigate. Following the opening novella, which echoed Fitzgerald's cautionary fable in The Great Gatsby, the second part unfolded as a memoir by an American financier. While this narrative shared some parallels with the initial section, I grappled with understanding their connection and questioning why I should invest in this new storyline. It wasn't until the third section, roughly halfway through Trust, that the true essence of Diaz's narrative began to unveil itself, with connections becoming more apparent and the emotional journey drawing me further in. As a cohesive whole, this book stands as a masterfully crafted tale, making me marvel at Diaz's ability to inhabit distinct voices and styles within each of the four sections and seamlessly bring them together into a unified whole. While the ending fulfilled my desire to witness the integration of the diverse narrative threads, the story's emotional impact left me yearning for something more. The conclusion lacked a grand revelation or thesis, but I sense that might be the book's intention. These influential individuals channel all their energy into amassing fortunes, only to succumb to the same fate awaiting us all. In the end, Trust captivated and confounded me, expanding the definition of a novel and encouraging me to seek out more challenging reads in the future.

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

(2024, 14)

Colson Whitehead stands out as a rare and exceptional talent that most authors can only aspire to be. He holds the remarkable distinction of being the sole living writer to have achieved the prestigious Pulitzer Prize in Fiction twice. His acclaimed novels, The Underground Railroad and The Nickel Boys, offer profound and vivid portrayals of America's history of racism.

In a departure from those celebrated works, Whitehead's last novel, Harlem Shuffle, took a different narrative path. Set in the 1960s, it followed the story of Ray Carney, a furniture salesman in the vibrant heart of Harlem. While the exploration of themes related to race and class persisted, the overall tone of the book shifted toward a more playful and ironic sensibility. Despite a few instances of uneven pacing, I was still captivated by the depiction of a man teetering on the edge between ethical righteousness and a life of crime.

As an ardent fan of Whitehead's skillful writing, I was already committed to exploring whatever literary journey he would embark on after Harlem Shuffle. To my pleasant surprise, his latest offering, Crook Manifesto, was released as the second chapter in an anticipated trilogy centered around Ray Carney. True to the essence of the first book, Whitehead once more whisks his readers away to the vibrant streets of Harlem, this time capturing the city during the dynamic political and societal shifts that unfolded in the 1970s.

This second installment is structured into three distinct vignettes, each unfolding within a specific year. The initial narrative segment commences in 1971. Ray Carney has now assumed ownership of the building housing his furniture store. With the passage of time, Carney has matured and gained wisdom, choosing to abandon his shady past and pursue an honest business approach. While he sometimes yearns for the days of illicit gains and effortless wealth, the integrity and honor accompanying his newfound approach bring a sense of security and personal satisfaction that he finds difficult to ignore.

This newfound stability is disrupted when his teenage daughter, Mae, presents an impossible request—tickets to the Jackson 5 concert. This poses a challenge, as Carney lacks a lawful means to fulfill her wish. Determined to navigate this dilemma, Carney contacts his former police connection, Munson, a skillful fixer. Munson, however, has his own demands to make of Carney. Staying on the path of legitimacy becomes increasingly difficult, and the stakes rise to a potentially fatal level.

The subsequent two sections further capture Harlem's ongoing transformation. In 1973, Carney's previous partner in crime, Pepper, grapples with assembling a dependable crew for planned criminal activities. This situation compels Pepper to secure an honest job as security for a Blaxploitation film being shot in the neighborhood. However, Pepper's expectations of glamour are met with an unexpected immersion in a surreal world of Hollywood celebrities, emerging comedians, and celebrity drug dealers.

The final part unfolds in 1975, coinciding with America's bicentennial celebration. As Carney contemplates a July 4th ad that aligns with his moral compass ("Two Hundred Years of Getting Away with It!"), his wife Elizabeth advocates for her childhood friend, former assistant D.A. turned aspiring politician Alexander Oakes. Following a fire that inflicts severe injuries on a tenant, Carney seeks Pepper's assistance in identifying the culprit, plunging the unscrupulous duo into a confrontation with the city's corrupt, violent, and ethically compromised underbelly.

Following the relatively self-contained narrative of Harlem Shuffle, Crook Manifesto faces the challenge of organically expanding the character's journey, a feat deftly achieved by Colson Whitehead. Where the initial book witnessed protagonist Ray Carney grappling with his descent into criminality, this installment depicts the character embracing the inevitability of this path as the changing world demands adaptation. Divided into shorter vignettes, the book offers a collection-of-stories feel, interwoven through the vivid Harlem backdrop, historical events, and the multifaceted main character. With an amplified humor element, Whitehead juxtaposes weighty societal shifts with moments of levity, such as a hilariously entertaining fried chicken heist. However, in line with similar middle installments of trilogies, a sense of closure is lacking, leaving the narrative feeling abrupt and incomplete. Perhaps this impression will evolve with the final book's context, but for now, Crook Manifesto is a darkly humorous exploration of a man's evolution in response to changing times—imperfect yet compelling.

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

(2023, 53)

The great American author Cormac McCarthy, who passed away last month, became a reluctant phenomenon later in his life. His first novels went largely unnoticed until in 1992 All the Pretty Horses became a bestselling sensation. No Country for Old Men was adapted into a Best Picture-winning film, and his 2006 novel The Road earned him a Pulitzer and a spot in Oprah's Book Club. I even count that last work as one of my favorite reads ever. Through it all, the soft-spoken McCarthy didn't seem phased by his sudden fame. In fact, he stayed mainly out of the spotlight. For the last 16 years, fans of the author have clamored for any hint at what he may be working on next. True to form, McCarthy stayed quiet. Late last year, his publisher announced that not one but two sister books would be released by the author. As luck would have it, they sent me a copy of the first novel The Passenger to read and review. With the author's recent passing, I've finally decided to give it a go. 

The novel begins with a thrilling setup. Bobby Western (yes, that's really his name) is at the bottom of the ocean floor, just off of the Gulf Coast. Western and his partner are looking into the wreckage of a downed plane. As the pair remove the door and peer inside, they are shaken by what they see. Nothing about the scene rings as sincere. The passengers are all still strapped into their seats with no visible trauma. The pilot's flight bag and data box have disappeared from the cockpit. Had someone else already visited this site? Days later, no word of the crash or victims has broken on the local news. When two men with badges show up at Western's New Orleans apartment, he's already expecting them. What he's not expecting is what they ask him. They want to know how many bodies he saw in the plane because one of the passengers is missing. 

As you can probably imagine, this setup caused me to believe I was about to get into a thriller in a similar vein as McCarthy's No Country for Old Men. Indeed, the events following the initial premise involve Western going off the grid. Everyone he talks to tells him he's a marked man. He takes all of his money out of the bank and hits the road. It is after this that the novel takes a turn that left me completely befuddled. The thrilling opening gives way to a book that sees the author take on a contemplative rambling that left me more confused than intrigued. Bobby Western begins to encounter different characters from his past, each inspiring deep tangents about subjects that never truly amount to much of anything. 

We learn that Western is still in mourning for his late sister, a brilliant mind who was institutionalized at a psychiatric facility where she ultimately succumbed to her delusions. Western describes his love for this woman as an incestual pining that goes well beyond the normal boundaries of sibling affection. As if this relationship isn't strange enough, McCarthy peppers in flashback scenes from the sister Alicia's perspective. She is visited in her bed at Stella Maris, the psychiatric facility, by vaudevillian hallucinations that torment and entertain her. These chapters appear before each continuation of the action in the present day, growing more and more difficult to decipher as they repeat. 

"The first thing is to locate the narrative line. It doesnt have to hold up in court. Start splicing in your episodics. Your anecdotals. You’ll figure it out. Just remember that where there’s no linear there’s no delineation."

The novel is at its best when it is working as a gritty exploration of a man on the run, attempting to piece together his life after the devasting loss of his sister. It is in these passages that I found glimmers of the things that I've appreciated in McCarthy's previous works. Even when nothing particularly interesting is happening, McCarthy has a way of finding the profound within the mundane. Bizarrely, though, he seems to lose interest in the novel he opens with, altogether abandoning the plot that set up the opening suspense in favor of a hodge-podge collection of meandering thoughts. There are tangents about the making of the atomic bomb, JFK assassination conspiracies, and even a story about the life of a transgender woman. It felt as if McCarthy was trying to fit every last bit of any topic he ever wanted to write about into the confines of this book. As their own pieces, these elements have varying levels of success. Within the scope of The Passenger, however, they merely dilute the narrative beyond comprehension. There is one more book titled Stella Maris that follows this one. It is written completely as a conversation between this protagonist's sister and her doctor in the psychiatric ward. After being challenged and frustrated by this work, I'm not yet certain I'll continue to read on. I may be better served by revisiting some of McCarthy's classics instead. 

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

(2023, 38)

"He'd spent so much time trying to keep one half of himself separate from the other half, and now they were set to collide."

How do you follow up a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel? If you're Colson Whitehead, the answer is easy. You simply write another Pulitzer winner. That's what he did with his last two efforts, The Underground Railroad and The Nickel Boys. Each of those books told powerful stories dealing with slavery and racism, unflinching portraits of a nation's tragic history. I adored both novels, and have been not so patiently waiting for Whitehead to write something new. The hype surrounding his first Pulitzer win was massive, so you can imagine the anticipation with which the world has waited for this follow-up to his second. The fine folks at Doubleday granted me access to an advanced copy of Whitehead's latest book Harlem Shuffle. While this new work is not nearly as serious as his previous two efforts, it is nonetheless impactful. 

Ray Carney is a man between two worlds. In 1959 Harlem, everybody knows everybody. To most of the community, Ray is known as the upstanding owner of Carney's Furniture, a modest business on 125th street that sells good quality furniture at a reasonable price. It isn't much, but it's an honest living. Could things be better? Of course. Despite a decent living, money can be tight. Ray and his wife live in a small apartment that the impending birth of their second child will officially render too small. This is where the other side to Ray begins to emerge. You see, he's the son of a well-known crook, the kind of man who is completely counter to the honest businessman Ray has worked to become. Ray's struggled to carve his own path away from the shadow of his father for years, but the need for a higher cash flow is about to darken that path again. 

It begins innocently enough. Ray's cousin, Freddie, periodically shows up to the store with a random piece of jewelry. Ray doesn't ask where the items come from, but he's happy to take them off Freddie's hands. A little extra income off the books never hurts. But then Freddie begins to escalate things. He joins a group of gangsters in a plot to rob a prominent hotel and volunteers Ray to hold and sell whatever loot is gained. The heist goes off with plenty of complications that place Ray in the sight of the worst kind of people. Suddenly his quiet family business becomes the meeting place for criminals, dirty cops, and other lowlifes who call Harlem home. As the novel progresses, Ray struggles to balance the two sides of himself, the cracks between them threatening to dismantle his entire livelihood. 

Harlem Shuffle sees Colson Whitehead writing a story that places his readers directly into the heart of Harlem during the early 1960s. His descriptions of the place and people who inhabit it are as real as any of his previous characters, the kind of folks whom you could easily see passing on the streets as you visit the city. There's a lightness and sense of fun to this novel that wasn't present in his previous two works but don't let that fool you. Beneath the surface lies the kind of thoughtful commentary on race, class, and morality that readers have come to expect from this celebrated author. I hesitate to say that I enjoyed this book as much as I did other Whitehead novels. The opening portions of the book took a bit too long to establish the story for my taste. Still, the latter half of the novel had me breezing through the pages, breathlessly reading to see how the ending would play out. The uneven pace of this one is perhaps more noticeable because of the stellar plotting of Whitehead's last two books. Still, there's plenty about Harlem Shuffle to marvel at. Sometimes a great author writes a great book while other times they merely write a good book. I think that's the case with this one. It won't be my favorite book written by Colson Whitehead, but it certainly is a joy to read. 

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

(2021, 33)

"In the end, the courage of women can't be stamped out. And stories--the big ones, the true ones--can be caught but never killed."

Ronan Farrow's article in the New Yorker caused quite the stir when it was published in 2017. He was writing about the sexual misconduct of Harvey Weinstein, one of the most powerful producers in Hollywood. The ramifications of the allegations highlighted in his writing would go on to spur the Me Too movement, a call to arms against sexual harassment and abuse by powerful men. Of course, the road to getting that article published was far from easy. Someone like Weinstein had the motivation and means to keep his skeletons tightly packed away in his closet. In his book Catch and Kill, Farrow writes about his investigation into sexual transgressions of some of the world's most prominent men and the systems that protect them.

If I didn't know that everything Farrow writes about in this book actually happened, I'd probably have mistaken it for fiction. There's so much to Weinstein's attempts at a cover-up that seems like something directly out of an espionage thriller. As Farrow meticulously worked to vet sources, interview women, and piece together the decades of abuse and retaliation he faced roadblocks at every step. I was shocked to learn that Weinstein hired an Israeli counter-intelligence service to investigate Farrow and even follow him around New York. Would an innocent man go to such lengths to stop a story from happening?

Beyond covering Weinstein's heinous crimes, Farrow spends a good deal of the book describing the systems of power and big corporations that have prevented stories like his from surfacing. He experienced the attempts at censorship firsthand. At the time that he began investigating Weinstein, Farrow was a correspondent for NBC. He took the story to their news division and began the process of taping interviews with women. Andy Lack, head of the news division at the time, was wary of the story from the start, even claiming that there was not a story there when the evidence was overwhelming. Farrow had multiple women agree to tell their story on camera and one the record, but the higher-ups at NBC refused to bring the story to air. Eventually, he was allowed to shop the story elsewhere, and it landed at The New Yorker.

With the outing of NBC's Matt Lauer as another perpetrator of sexual misconduct in the workplace, it seems the company would have benefited from keeping the microscope of this kind of story quiet. Farrow writes a detailed account of a rape committed by Lauer that NBC was made aware of back in 2014. It is worth noting that Lauer was not fired from his role as anchor of the network's juggernaut morning program until 2017. It is easy to imagine that his tenure with the company would have continued to be protected if Farrow's article and the Me Too movement had not begun.

Catch and Kill is a thorough and riveting look into Ronan Farrow's investigation into Harvey Weinstein and the events that followed. Farrow is extremely candid about his own history with sexual misconduct (his sister Dylan has long spoken about the abuse she suffered under her adoptive father Woody Allen) and his dedication to being a voice for the countless women who have faced this all too common treatment. His book finds the perfect balance of keeping a journalistic approach to the facts of the events while interspersing a few personal anecdotes. Some of the most powerful parts are those where Farrow quotes the women and Weinstein verbatim. We see the harrowing toll that the sexual abuse has taken on the victims and the disgusting entitlement with which these powerful men felt they could keep things quiet. Three years after his initial article was published, Farrow continues to shed light on more and more stories like this one, and the number of prominent men that have perpetrated this abhorrent behavior continues to grow. Catch and Kill is a powerful look at some of the events that helped spark a movement. It is an uncomfortable but extremely necessary read.

For more information visit Amazon and Goodreads.
(2019, 42)

My quarantine reading continues today with Andrew Sean Greer's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Less. This is one of those books that I felt almost obligated to read. It pretty much checks off most of the boxes for the kinds of books I wish there were more of. LQBTQ character? Check. Critical acclaim? Check. Heck, at a terse 260 or so pages, even the length seemed great. Still, as is all too common with too many of the books I buy, Less has sat on my bookshelf unread for a couple of years now. It even made it into the box of carefully curated books that made the move with me to my new house last month! And so, with a shelter in place order in effect for my county and only a finite number of Netflix shows to catch up on, it was finally time to dust off my copy and give this novel the read it very much deserved.

Arthur Less is a man on the brink of crisis. His longtime publisher has rejected his latest attempt at a novel, his former lover has announced his marriage to another man, and, perhaps most distressing of all, Less is about to have his 50th birthday. Things really couldn't be worse for this fabulously cosmopolitan man. At least his tailor-made blue suit still fits like a dream. Oh, there's one more thing. This former lover, the one who broke Less's heart and is marrying another man, has had the nerve to ask Less to attend the upcoming nuptials as a friend. The nerve of some people!

Not to worry though. Less has a plan. He conveniently has a stack of requests for his appearance at multiple literary events that span the globe. Normally Less would carefully peruse the invitations, accepting the ones that were either the most prestigious or the most lucrative, but this emergency is no time for caution. Less enthusiastically accepts each offer, a move that will conveniently see him on the other side of the world for his 50th birthday and the dreaded wedding of his ex-lover. What could possibly go wrong?

I think that readers' enjoyment of Andrew Sean Greer's Less will hinge upon their ability to empathize with the titular character. He's not likable in the traditional sense, and I think that may make it a bit hard for readers to connect with him. As a member of the LGBTQ community myself, I initially struggled to see beyond the stereotypical aspects of this character as a gay man. They were good for some brief chuckles, but there had to be more for me to invest in this story. Fortunately, I stuck with Mr. Less and was able to find a completely fulfilling and beautiful narrative as I went on his journey. Beyond the surface level satire lies a very raw and intimate portrait of a man dealing with aging, love, and loss. The depiction of one of Less's former relationships is probably one of the most realistic that I've ever read. My biggest takeaway from the novel is that ultimately life hinges upon love and human connection. Nothing more and nothing less.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2020, 8)

"If you want to see what this nation is all about, I always say, you have to ride the rails. Look outside as you speed through, and you'll find the true face of America."

Colson Whitehead's The Underground Railroad has taken the publishing world by storm. It began as a surprise selection for Oprah's book club nearly one month before it was slated to be published. In a logistical feat, the novel was on the shelves shortly thereafter and began its reign as a commercial and critical juggernaut. The book was voted in as a historical themed selection for The Next Best Book Club's monthly discussion on Goodreads, a discussion that I'm leading all month long. This provided me the perfect excuse to dive into Whitehead's novel and see what all the hype is about.

The novel opens in the Antebellum South on the Randall Plantation, a farm known more for its appalling treatment of its slaves than the harvest they produce. Cora is no stranger to those horrors. She's grown up as one of the Randall's servants and seen how the mistreatment of her peers gives the Randall brothers a sick pleasure. This goes beyond simple punishment. It is not uncommon for slaves to be summoned for a beating as a form of entertainment for the brothers and their guests. Whitehead writes of this sadistic torture with detailed descriptions that make no attempts to shield readers from the unabashed vulgarity of this history.

Miraculously, Cora clings to the hope that one day she will escape the bonds of the Randall Plantation. It seems like an impossible dream, especially when she's seen the brutal executions of those who tried to escape in the past, but Cora has a secret weapon. Years ago, Cora's mother escaped the plantation and was never heard from again. Even the famed slave catcher Ridgeway was unable to find her. Cora is bitter that her mother left her to fend for herself, but she clings to the thought that if her mom could escape, she can too.

Cora's dreams come to fruition when another slave, Caesar, tells her of his plan to leave. He has made contact with a man who can grant the pair access to the infamous underground railroad. In Whitehead's world, this is not merely a network of brave abolitionists, but an actual railroad built in tunnels across the US. Leaving the plantation marks the beginning of a journey that is even more perilous than the unenviable life of servitude. With each stop on the railroad, Cora faces new obstacles that cause her to question the price of her own freedom. On a deeper level, Whitehead seems bring into question what true freedom even is.

The Underground Railroad is novel of contradictions. It is rich in its bleakness. It is a novel that is difficult to read, but impossible to put down. Whitehead constructs his story in a version of history that serves as a metaphor for the treatment of African Americans. His focus on a single character allows him to merge the expansive history of injustice into a story that is more easily absorbed. As such, the action of Cora's escape works on two levels. One, as the story of a thrilling cat and mouse chase between slave and slave catcher, and two, as a larger portrait of systemic racism. The Underground Railroad is a masterful novel that is sure to spark passionate discussion and debate for years to come. I rarely provide a universal recommendation of a novel to readers of different tastes, but I will not hesitate to do so with this one. Read this book!

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

(2017, 31)

Fresh off of his Pulitzer Prize winning novel, The Orphan Master's Son, author Adam Johnson is back with an eclectic collection of short stories. Each of the six selections offers a unique tale of a character struggling to come to terms with the realities and challenges of their lives. Johnson highlights these ethical dilemmas with his quietly assured writing.

In Nirvana, a husband struggles to cope with his wife's crippling Guillain–Barré syndrome. The couple lives in the not too distant future where technology such as Android glasses and Google lanes are commonplace. To help endure the emotional effects of his wife's physical condition, he programs an iProjector hologram of the recently assassinated U.S. President to interact with. He seeks a friend, someone to talk to about his misfortune. The hologram communicates by using bits and pieces of recordings of the President's media appearances, so any "advice" that the husband receives, comes in the form of hollow political sentiments. 

Hurricane Anonymous follows Randall, a UPS truck driver living in New Orleans during the immediate aftermath of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita. He is thrust into fatherhood when his young son is left at the foot of his UPS truck. With no note as to the mother's whereabouts, Randall continues to drive his routes while searching for his son's mother. Meanwhile, his mute father is on his deathbed, and his current girlfriend wants to run away with him and start a new life with their FEMA money. Randall does everything in his power to provide for his family as each of them pulls him in different directions. 

In the most personal story in the collection, Interesting Facts, Johnson assumes the voice of a wife facing the effects of breast cancer on her family. Physically and emotionally scarred by the double mastectomy that saved her life, the woman attempts to put the pieces of her life back together. She finds it difficult to accept the affection of her husband. How can he find her attractive after her surgery? Even worse, as an aspiring author herself, she enviously resents the success of her Pulitzer Prize winning spouse. The fact that Johnson's wife is a breast cancer survivor is not lost on the reader as this portrait of marital disillusionment unfolds. 

In George Orwell Was a Friend of Mine and Fortune Smiles, Johnson explores the effects of totalitarian political regimes on the people who enforce and live under them. The first tells the story of a retired warden of the East German Hohenschonhausen Prison. He lives close to the infamous facility, now a museum, and remains adamant that he participated in no wrong doing during his tenure there. He befriends the museum curator and agrees to tell his side of the institution's history. Johnson dexterously illustrates the man's belief in an invented reality that is built upon denial and fear. 

He further grapples with these themes in the title story. DJ and Sun-ho are facing the steep task of acclimating to life as liberated citizens of Korea. Years of oppression under the Northern Regime have left them weary of the freedoms their Southern counterparts enjoy. They find simple pleasure in fast-food restaurants and scratch-off lottery tickets. Still, the elder Sun-ho can't change his ways as easily as DJ. He knows that life in the North was unacceptable, but years of living there have stained his impression of the place that he now calls home. Both of these historical stories prove Johnson's skill as an author and provide examples of all the things that he truly excels at. 

The most intriguing story in this collection has to be Dark Meadows. The narrator is a man so riddled by the distinction between right and wrong that he can barely come to terms with either one. He was raped as a child and never fully recovered from the incident. Now, as a computer technician, he occasionally services the hard drives of child pornographers while simultaneously installing malware that makes their illegal activities easier to track. In a narrative that is disturbing, tragic, and surprisingly sympathetic, Johnson writes of this broken man who precariously walks the line between criminal scum and sorrowful victim.

Be it the tale of a woman facing illness or a child pornographer, a liberated citizen or an unrelenting war criminal, Johnson writes with a sincere conviction that allows readers to form independent opinions of each of his characters. Despite the varying backgrounds and situations they face, the characters in this collection are all fighting for the kind of personal victories that every human can relate to. As a cohesive unit, Fortune Smiles, offers masterful contemplations on life and the human condition that all readers can appreciate.

For more information, visit Amazon and GoodReads.

(2015, 22)