Since we were sprightly little teenagers, my cousin Kaitlyn Wibbenmeyer and I have bonded over our shared love of books. And in particular, we’ve been fond of (re: obsessed) with one author in particular: Emily Giffin. So I knew when Giffin’s latest novel, The Lies That Bind, was released early this year, Kaitlyn and I would have to discuss. And boy, did we have a lot to say.
In the latest episode of The Biblio Files, Kaitlyn and I chat about Giffin’s amazing and relatable characters; how she brought 9/11 into her fictional tale in such a sensitive yet powerful way; and how her writing has matured and improved over the years. (Yes, somehow it’s possible to keep getting better when you are already so good.) We even make the claim that The Lies That Bind has set a new Giffin standard. And yes, we fangirled … hard. We left our love for Emily Giffin on this recording, and we are not afraid to admit it.
(We’re currently accepting applications for the EG fan club as we speak.)
Listen to our conversation about The Lies That Bind on your preferred podcast platform. Don’t forget to share and subscribe and to also visit Anchor where you can become a supporter of The Biblio Files. Enjoy!
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Y’all should know my love for Emily Giffin by now. I’ve never tried to hide it since I first read Something Borrowed when I was 15. In a way, I’ve grown up with Giffin’s writing, and I’ve seen a change in her books just like I’ve seen a change in myself. But there are some aspects of Giffin’s work that have never altered, and for that I am grateful.
From her first book to the her 10th, she’s showcased an incredible ability to write great and relatable characters, and she excels at telling stories that thrive in that gray area that makes literature so wonderfully complex. These same attributes are ever-present in her recent novel, The Lies That Bind, which might just be her best work yet.
You may remember that I was not a fan of the book Normal People, but, as discussed in the an episode of The Biblio Files, my friend Layne Coffman was. Interestingly enough, I liked the show immensely more (you should check out the toe-to-toe matchup), and we both had many thoughts on it. So Layne and I decided we needed one more conversation about Normal People.
In this new episode of The Biblio Files, her husband, Nick, joins us as we regale our fierce opinions on this now-Emmy-nominated TV show. Tune in as we compare both forms of media, discuss the show’s thirstiness, and opine on a second season.
Check it out now on your preferred podcast platform or on Anchor where I publish all of my episodes. And don’t forget to subscribe, share, and support!
I’ll admit I felt nervous when I began the limited TV series Normal People. With the book garnering only three flames, I had little confidence that I would enjoy the show. I had to watch it though, right? I mean this is the hottest thing happening in TV at the moment — figuratively and literally. (I saw one headline that said it is the thirstiest thing we need right now.)
So I threw out my reservations about the adaptation. I tried to forget my negative thoughts toward the novel and the depressed feelings it evoked from me. I tried to not be swayed by my past experiences, which tell me that books are always better than their adapted screen versions. I took Normal People — TV versus book — toe to toe.
So Normal People wasn’t one of my favorite book of the past few years; really, it wasn’t even close. But it did provide a lot of great content to discuss. It only made sense, then, that I’d discuss it on The Biblio Files with one of my best friends and the woman who bought the book for me: Layne Coffman.
In this episode, Layne and I chat about a lot of topics, including the light Normal People sheds on mental health, my weird feelings about existentialism, the mark of a good book, and even our first kisses. That’s right: It gets deep on this episode. (Don’t worry; I promise it’s completely relevant to the book and associated conversation.)
Click on this link to listen to this episode or search for The Biblio Files on your go-to podcast platform. If you do the latter, make sure you still check out my Anchor profile to learn how you can support your favorite bibliophile.
PSA: This episode contains explicit language and obnoxious laughter that no amount of editing could subside. This is just who we are.
- What: Normal People
- Who: Sally Rooney
- Pages: 273, hard cover
- Genre: Contemporary fiction
- Published: 2018
- The lit: of 5 flames
Quite a few friends have sent me books during COVID-19’s social distancing mandate. For that, I’m eternally grateful. Normal People was one of those books. (Layne Coffman, you’re a gem.)
You can’t really escape this book in 2020. It’s everywhere, including on Hulu. And in the past six months, a few friends have recommended this book to me, especially now that there’s a miniseries of it. So after receiving the book in the mail, I decided to hop on the bandwagon.
I may have fallen off though. It’s true that I couldn’t put down this book while I read it; it had an intoxicating grip on me. However, this wasn’t enough to eclipse the confusion and aloofness I felt (nor my frustration at an immense grammatical transgression). I also think part of the reason I wanted to keep going was to obtain some kind of clarity. Sadly, that never happened. In that way, maybe I was just another lost character wanting some normalcy and happiness.
- What: Three-Fifths
- Who: John Vercher
- Pages: 240
- Genres: Contemporary fiction and crime
- Published: 2019
- The lit: of 5 flames
Winter 1995. Pittsburgh. A hate crime occurs and intense arguments ensue over race relations. Racist undertones permeate conversations between any two people of different races, and a young man with a mixed identity is afraid to be himself and live his truth.
June 2020. We have a global pandemic that has everyone at home and unable to avoid current events. Because of that, nobody can ignore or deny the atrocious and racially motivated death of George Floyd. It sparks protests and conversations about race and white supremacy (both explicit and implicit forms), and it ignites hate crimes and defensive attitudes from white people about racial disparity and inequality in America.
Twenty-five years is the only thing marking the difference between present day and the fictional tale told in John Vercher’s debut novel, Three-Fifths. Sadly, inequality still exists to the same degree today as it did 25 years ago, and white supremacy, hate crimes, and racist remarks aren’t just fictionalized. Vercher’s story could have happened in 1995, and we certainly know it still happens today. The only difference, as Van Jones remarks in the Netflix documentary, 13th, is that today these offenses can be filmed on phones. It makes you question if we as a society and as individuals have grown at all in 25 years. It’s hard to see how.
With everything happening in the world right now, it’s important that we don’t forget an important celebration: Pride Month!
June has to be the most loving and colorful month of the year. That’s because for 30 days we celebrate that love is love regardless of gender or sexual orientation. And it occurs in June, so that we can remember and celebrate the Stonewall riots that happened 51 years ago, giving rise to equality for the LGBTQ+ community.
Despite those riots and the progress that they catalyzed, it would be misleading and ignorant to assume the LGBTQ+ community can love and live the same way straight, cisgender people can. Narrow-mindedness runs rampant in the world, including in our own backyards with a president who doesn’t govern for all people. In addition to outright discriminations, social constructs still make it difficult for people to come out and love freely.
That’s why we need books like Red, White & Royal Blue, a 2019 novel that throws all harmful conventions out the window and asks what some will definitely perceive as a radical question: What if an immediate member of the first family were gay?
If you read this book and did not root for Alex Claremont-Diaz and Prince Henry, please leave this blog or challenge yourself to understand why their relationship is the fictional tale we need to make all love equal.
Happy Pride Month!
Source: Vanity Fair
- What: Such a Fun Age
- Who: Kiley Reid
- Pages: 305, hard cover
- Genres: Contemporary fiction
- Published: 2019
- The lit: of 5 flames
One of the greatest gifts that The Biblio Files has given me is the light it has shed on my own microaggressions — how my own whiteness leaves me completely ignorant sometimes. And it’s truly a gift because it forces me to see where I can grow and improve even if it’s hard to accept.
There have been many editing sessions where I cringe at something I say. I never intend disrespect, and sometimes it’s really just nerves; however, I recognize that intent and meaning are two different things. And sometimes it’s the way I say something. I have, for example, a nervous laugh that usually accompanies something uncomfortable. In a recent episode, I deleted about 10 seconds of a conversation about catcalling because I was laughing about being catcalled while leaving the gym. When this happened, I didn’t find it funny at all, and I still don’t today. So why do I laugh at something so terrible?
Because I’m human, not perfect, and far from woke. Hearing yourself after you say something is the greatest way to recognize your flaws (that whole hindsight thing), and boy, am I observing and trying to rectify mine.
Microagressions, intersectionality, being “woke” in the 21st century, and ignorance all play key roles in Kiley Reid’s Such a Fun Age, a 2019 novel that’s getting all the rage. It could not come at a more perfect time — for me and for the entire world.
Working in finance has made me slightly obsessed with the global financial crisis that started in 2008. How the hell did things get so messed up, and how did this world become so broken? Reading financial documents every year for more than four years allowed me to better understand the ins and outs of the industry and the domino effect that culminated in the crisis.
Even more so, I’m fascinated by the people who seriously lacked morals while possessing immense greed. My curiosity with the matter has led me to read many books that take place during this time, including most recently The Widow of Wall Street. According to the book’s backstory, the author, Randy Susan Meyers, has the same questions as I do.
In this current climate, though, I also needed some fun, intoxicating chick lit (perhaps of the Emily Giffin variety). My preceding read filled me with hopelessness, and I needed a change that surely The Widow of Wall Street would give me. Welp, let’s just say the novel depressed me far more than I had imagined. That’s not a bad thing by any means, and Meyers certainly piqued my interest, especially toward the end. Her writing, though, possessed incongruent pacing and unfulfilling descriptions, which didn’t do justice to the narrative. This left me not quite fulfilled and still, well, kind of sad.