C’mon, this book takes its title from a Fleetwood Mac song. How could I not be drawn to this?
Most women have that one guy in their past. You know the one. Most likely, but not always, a cliché bad boy. Someone who drove you crazy in both good and bad ways. The one who took a long time to get over. The one who still pops up in your memory every now and then.
Well, that drama, of which we all have a relatable anecdote, is the subject of Carola Lovering’s debut novel. Because it’s a story we all know, it’s a story that can be challenging to tell. How can you write this dilemma in a way that feels fresh yet relatable? Lovering sort of accomplishes this in her sexy book, but the ways that make it feel new are also the ways that make it incredibly frustrating.
- What: The Great Alone
- Who: Kristin Hannah
- Pages: 438 pages, hard cover
- Genres: Contemporary fiction and historical fiction
- Published: 2018
- The lit: of 5 flames
I’m a sucker for scenery. It’s true. As much as I love stories about human interaction and purpose, there’s something so refreshing about reading poetic lines that perfectly depict the alluring lost corners of this world and how people connect with them.
I also crave new storylines. Don’t get me wrong: I will never scoff at boy-meets-girl and happily-ever-after plots. But my mind desires something different too. Something that allows me to explore topics and places I never thought about before or personally experienced.
For these reasons, I’ve been intrigued by Kristin Hannah’s The Great Alone since it was published in early 2018. In short, it’s a story about a family that moves to Alaska to live off the land. Check out my library, and you won’t see many titles with similar summaries. I couldn’t wait to get lost in it on my trip to Africa (now that was a solid 10 flames); unfortunately, I didn’t willingly escape to another world. Instead, I couldn’t find my way out of a book that dragged on, had random and too many plot twists, and dramatized to the nth degree.
One of my New Year’s resolutions was to read more thrillers, and I’m making good on that promise. In fact, three of the last four books, including my most recent, could fall into this category. I love a good thriller or mystery because of how they intensify your emotions and captivate you. My Husband’s Wife had all of those elements. I finished the book in a week — though I admit I started reading it a few months ago but put it on hold for another attention-grabber. Once I started again, I experienced more than one night when I would tell myself “one more chapter” about five times. It kept me on my toes with its twists and turns and heightened my senses.
You’re probably wondering why, if this was a book I couldn’t put down, I only assigned it three flames? I know, that sounds like four- or five-flame material. Although I mostly enjoyed reading this book, it had a few head-scratching qualities that brought down its overall rating. If you’re looking for a quick, mysterious read, this is a solid book. Sometimes that’s exactly what we want, especially during the summer. But if you’re looking for that plus some brilliant writing and stunning plots from start to finish, you might want to keep searching.
I try to title every review after a pop culture reference — usually song lyrics — some of which are more obvious than others. The minute I finished Where the Crawdads Sing I knew I’d be choosing a song by one of two badass women: Martina McBride or Carrie Underwood. Both women are known for singing songs about wronged women who are often misunderstood and who take control of their destiny. Main character Kya Clark, aka the “Marsh Girl,” would be the perfect muse for a McBride or Underwood hit.
The Marsh Girl is the epitome of what happens when judgment innate in humans runs rampant. Author Delia Owens captures this societal flaw beautifully in her story that is still sitting pretty on the New York Times best seller list. That’s 38 weeks, people. Not too shabby. It’s easy to understand why when you read the lyrical ways Owens describes nature, specifically the marsh; the plight of a young girl who only ever yearned for some company; and how our judgments really could ruin someone’s life. Owens captures it all in this coming-of-age meets whodunit tale.
Moms are the world’s real-life heroes. I know my mom holds that title, and I’m grateful every day for this wonderful human who brought me into the world and who taught me every thing I know. So it’s only fitting that the day before I left for a Bostonian expedition with my mother, my new e-reader — yes, I finally caved and bought one — suggested The Red Coat: A Novel of Boston, a book where one mom’s power is a central character.
The book has its flaws, but there’s something sweet and special about it too. In summary, it’s a story about young women trying to navigate this tricky world of love, life, and death with the guiding hand of their own mother. And it proves that their influence and presence are felt long after they leave us. It’s a story line we can somehow all relate to.
Source: Barnes and Noble.
- What: Border Child
- Who: Michel Stone
- Pages: 250, hard cover
- Genre: Contemporary fiction
- Published: 2017
- The lit: of 5 flames
I received Border Child from a publisher sometime in 2018. I delayed reading it though because it seemed too real and too close to real-world problems. Books are powerful in that they call attention to immoral circumstances in our everyday lives; they’re also powerful because they can be an escape from that reality. With our current tumultuous landscape and with the U.S. border such a fiery topic, I strayed from this novel. I didn’t think my heart could take it.
I knew its purpose likely had meaning and influence and hoped it was a book that would change people’s minds, give them that “ah ha” moment that sadly this growing nationalist world needs. But I couldn’t bring the nastiness of the world into my literary one, not yet anyways.
Until I finally did — and was disappointed. Border Child has foundational power for issues that are often ignored when talking about immigration reform; however, it lacks strong storytelling to really bring these problems and challenges to the forefront of conversation. It didn’t captivate me like I had wanted, and it doesn’t do the real-life people and problems that inspired it much justice.
Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows proves Ariana’s point: God is a woman.
Too often, society boxes female authors and their stories about sex into sweeping tales of love, romance, and magic. Balli Kaur Jaswal’s novel confirms that women — even conservative women — are humans too and that they have fantasies just like men. Sex doesn’t have to be folded into a fairy tale, and it doesn’t have to be forbidden (unless, of course, that’s part of the fantasy per some of our characters here). Women want and need to talk about it too.
This novel breaks cultural boundaries by questioning gender and cultural stereotypes and bringing taboos to the forefront. It challenges the concept of “other,” which confirms we’re more alike than different, and it’s really fun to read. There’s a lot to be said for that.