Book Review: "The Dreamers" by Karen Thompson Walker

Confession time: I'm a total hypochondriac. I don't watch medical shows, because I've convinced myself I'm dying of things it's medically impossible for me to contract. I caught a bad cold two days after finishing The Stand, and I was convinced the end was near. I'm a mess.

Needless to say, it might not have been the best idea to finish Karen Thompson Walker's The Dreamers just before bed, but luckily I'm here to tell you about it.

"The only way to tell some stories is with the oldest, most familiar words: this here, this is the breaking of a heart."

Another semester of college has started in a sleepy Southern California town. Kara leaves a party one night saying she doesn't feel well. Everyone figures she's probably had too much to drink. She gets into bed and falls asleep. She's still asleep when her roommate, Mei, leaves for class the next morning, but Mei isn't concerned, because Kara has done this before. Kara is still asleep when evening comes, but no one can wake her, not Mei, not Kara's friends, not even the paramedics or the doctors at the hospital where she was taken.

The doctors can't figure out what's wrong with her, nor can they explain why she dies the next day. But everyone is unprepared when a second girl in Kara's dorm falls asleep, then a third. That's when panic starts to set in, and as more students, and others they come into contact with at the school fall asleep, fears of an epidemic are sparked.

While doctors are stymied by what is sweeping through the college, and how it can be prevented from spreading, they also make an unusual discovery: "there is more activity in these minds than has ever been recorded in any human brain—awake or asleep."

Slowly, the virus begins to spread through this small town. First it's the hospital and college personnel who fall prey, and then it starts to affect an ever-widening circle of those they've come into contact with. Sarah and Libby, two young sisters, are determined to protect themselves; Ben and Annie, two young professors, withstand the strains of their marriage to try and keep their infant daughter safe; Nathaniel, another professor, worries he may be kept from visiting his husband, who is in a nursing home; and Mei, who, along with another student, tries to make a difference once she stops submerging herself in her own fears.

The Dreamers is a tremendously thought-provoking book about how we come together and tear ourselves apart in the midst of a crisis like this. It's a portrait of fear, courage, love, stubbornness, sacrifice, and selfishness, and the stories of those affected and those waiting to see if they'll be next are very poignant.

As she proved with her first book, The Age of Miracles (see my review), Walker is a great storyteller, combining scientific elements with fantastical ones to yield a book rich with emotion. Where I struggled with The Dreamers, however, is how things were wrapped up. I felt left with more questions than answers, and I really wasn't sure what kind of a message she was sending. The book needed a clearer ending more fitting of the complexity of the plot.

That criticism aside, this is a book that will make you think about how you might act in a similar situation, if you were any of these characters. I look forward to reading Walker's next book, because her talent is too good to sit idle.

Book Review: "The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls" by Anissa Gray

First of all, how cool is the title of this book?

This powerful, poignant debut novel examines how easy family ties can go from comforting to smothering, and how the scars of youth can still prove damaging long into adulthood.

"If, as a mother, I am my father's daughter, and I hate everything about him, what am I as a sister, who was all the mother they had?"

Althea was little more than a teenager when her mother died, leaving her to be a surrogate parent for her three younger siblings, Viola, Joe, and baby Lillian. Their father was a traveling preacher, mercurial on good days and violent on bad ones, wanted little to do with his children, but Althea wasn't really sure how to do more for her siblings than simply follow their mother's example. Sometimes that worked, but sometimes her siblings chafed under her discipline.

When Althea met Proctor, he offered protection—from the responsibilities of surrogate parenthood and from her fears about her father. Although they had two daughters of their own, Althea never felt like she "got" motherhood, often struggling with her relationships with her daughters, especially her oldest, Kim. Althea and Proctor became pillars of the community, owning a restaurant and leading many fundraising events for different charities.

But in an instant, everything fell apart. Proctor and Althea were arrested, guilty of crimes that left their entire community feeling angry and betrayed. They went from being respected to being ostracized, and that treatment extended to their girls as well. Suddenly Lillian is given responsibility for raising the girls, and while she does the best job she can, she has her own problems, her own issues to deal with. And when Viola arrives, trailing the debris of her own life, they try to see if two broken people can help bring normalcy to two teenage girls who have had their lives pulled out from under them.

The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls was an emotional read, difficult at times yet full of hope. It's a story of how our lives can be affected just as much by things unsaid as they are by things that are said. It's also a story about how the people we need the most can also be the people who cause us pain, sometimes inadvertently. And it's also a story about how important it is to have people in our corner, and sometimes those people are not whom we're expecting.

Reading this book, it was often hard to believe that this was Anissa Gray's debut novel, because the storytelling was so self-assured. Many of the characters were so rich and complex, and Gray slowly peeled back their layers so it almost felt as if you were getting to know them in real life. Strangely, however, Proctor and Althea remained a bit of an enigma to me, so even though they were at the center of the book, they never felt like fully formed characters, and I didn't understand what made them do what they did.

The Care and Feeding of Ravenously Hungry Girls is definitely one of those books you'll think about long after you've finished reading it. It's the arrival of an incredible literary talent, and I look forward to following Gray's career.

NetGalley and Berkley Publishing Group provided me a copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!

Book Review: "This Could Hurt" by Jillian Medoff

Things at Ellery Consumer Research Group haven't quite been the same since the crash of 2008. Even the HR department took its licks, shrinking from 22 to 16 to 13 people, then finally to 11. But even though promises of stability were made throughout the company, even a year later, times were tough, and rumors of more layoffs float throughout the halls.

Rosa Guerrero is the chief of human resources at Ellery, a woman who fought hard through the years to get where she is now. She battled hostility, sexism, ethnic prejudice, but now, comfortably in her 60s, she rules the roost, and is well-respected throughout the company and within her own department. She knows the importance of both looking the part and acting it, and her own employees seek her advice, her counsel, her knowledge, and of course, her approval and favor.

She knows that the company may need to downsize itself a little longer, but she wants to do everything to protect her employees. She tries to put plans in place that will keep her staff out of the crossfire, while continuing to demonstrate her value and that of her team, but circumstances constantly foil her. Her staff is somewhat of a motley crew of ambition, ego, insecurity, hunger for power, and occasional dysfunction. What's a boss to do?

After discovering the wrongdoing of one long-time employee, Rosa feels betrayed, and starts to wonder how much longer she can handle the pressure of the job, especially as the CEO is breathing down her neck, expecting her to find ways that will allow for more people to be laid off. Little by little, chinks start to appear in Rosa's once-impenetrable armor, and her staff realizes they must protect her if they're going to be able to protect themselves.

This Could Hurt follows Rosa and her employees through a tumultuous year. From Lucy, the immensely ambitious yet insecure woman whose professional life flourishes while her personal life languishes, to Kenny, whose degree from Wharton makes him feel he's just biding time in this job until something better comes along—until he realizes nothing might, Leo, fiercely devoted to Rosa and the company, yet unhappy with himself and the path his life appears to be on, to Rob, happily married yet wanting more than he has, each employee faces crises, of conscience, of faith, and in their lives.

Truth be told, this book didn't work for me. I think it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be funny (sporadically the book features unnecessary footnotes a la Kevin Kwan's Crazy Rich Asians series, yet none were as humorous as intended) or serious, because the book did deal with some emotional issues as well as office politics, but it never stayed firmly in one camp. While I started out thinking the characters were interesting, none of them were really that likable, and their foibles and issues became repetitive.

I feel like when authors write novels about the workplace, they strive to capture the magic that the television show The Office had, but I've yet to find a book that can tap into that effectively. This Could Hurt is well-written and had an interesting premise, but it took too long to wrap itself up, and its conclusion, told in organizational charts over the years, is jarring, because they divulge changes in the characters' lives without explaining them.

I'm disappointed, but you can't win them all. At least reading this book made me realize I've worked in far crazier and more dysfunctional places, no contest there!

Book Review: "Small Admissions" by Amy Poeppel

Sometimes after I've read a few fairly heavy or angsty books, I need to metaphorically cleanse my literary palate by reading something a little lighter. It doesn't necessarily have to be a humor book or utter fluff, but every now and then I like to seek out books that are lighter in tone, more straight-forward, something I can enjoy without having to tax my brain or my psyche too hard.

After the last few books I've read, I turned to Amy Poeppel's Small Admissions as my literary intermezzo of sorts. It was just what I was hoping for—an engaging story with characters I could root for (as well as some I could root against). It even made me laugh more than a few times, which was a pleasant surprise.

The daughter of two college professors, Kate Pearson has always been almost myopically focused on academics, much to the frustration of her friends and her older sister Angela. But when her post-graduate work in a prestigious anthropology program with a noted professor turns disastrous, she makes a characteristically un-Kate decision and plans to move to Paris with her trés handsome boyfriend Richard. Only she doesn't quite get out of the Paris airport, and then she's back in the U.S., nearly catatonic in her depression, never getting out of her pajamas, drinking far too much, and refusing to do anything to fix her situation.

After nearly a year of moping and mourning, Angela feels compelled to do something to save Kate from herself. Angela's chance meeting with the overworked director of admissions for a tony prep school in New York lands Kate an interview. And despite one of the most disastrous job interviews on record, where she dresses inappropriately and says even less appropriate things, Kate is shockingly hired as the assistant director of admissions for the famed Hudson Day School.

"...she didn't like children particularly. Didn't know any other than her niece, didn't want to. Didn't know anything about schools in New York City, either, obviously. Or schools anywhere. Or the admissions process. Or administrative anything. She would be expected to answer people's questions, and she wouldn't have the answers because—to get right down to it—she didn't know anything."

After her initial fear that her boss will discover he accidentally hired the wrong girl, or that she'll screw everything up, abates, Kate starts to settle into her job. Before long she's interviewing prospective students—smart, driven children programmed by their parents; clueless children wondering why they're even there other than because their parents are making them; and the rare child who actually deserves to go to Hudson. Kate is far from a traditional interviewer, and as crazy as her interviews with the kids are, some of the parents are even crazier! (While a subplot featuring two feuding parents seems tired, there's a terrifically funny payoff.)

Meanwhile, as Kate is getting fully immersed in the whole admissions process, Angela constantly worries that Kate will suddenly backslide and tries to take control of her life prematurely, and Kate's two best friends from college are dealing with their own secrets, while one of them, Chloe, tries to find Kate another boyfriend, mostly out of guilt, since Richard is her cousin. It's all fodder for more chaos than any one person can handle, but Kate surprises them all by taking it in stride. Mostly.

Was this book fairly predictable? Absolutely, but that didn't lessen its appeal for me. I would have enjoyed the book more without the tired (and annoying) subplot about Kate's jealous friend, because Kate and her work in admissions made for a pretty enjoyable book on its own. I worried the book would lose its way diving into her romantic life, but fortunately Poeppel didn't hamper the book with turning the plot into total chick-lit. I thought Poeppel has a great ear for dialogue and a knack for crazily outlandish conversations that you can absolutely see someone getting nervous and saying.

Small Admissions was fun, lighthearted, and it didn't take itself too seriously. It was exactly the type of book I was looking for, and if you want something to read that you'll enjoy without getting agitated or depressed, or having to really decipher the plot, definitely pick this up.

Book Review: "The Most Dangerous Place on Earth" by Lindsey Lee Johnson

This was a tremendously intriguing book, but not what I expected based on its description. At some point would it be possible for the marketing departments of publishers to spend more time understanding what its books are about, instead of comparing them to any other popular title?

I digress.

In Mill Valley, California, there's an eighth-grade boy who always seems to be the target of abuse and ridicule from his fellow students. He's desperate to feel understood, to belong, to find a friend. But his one bold gesture goes very, very wrong, causing him more humiliation at the hands of his peers. And then one incident changes everything.

Several years later, many of these same students are in high school. They've mastered all of the cruelty, disdain, and casual nonchalance that children raised among privilege often possess. Yet even as their lives move forward, the incident is always in the back of their minds, affecting them in different ways—pushing them to achieve more, motivating them to care less, sending them on a self-destructive path.

When young teacher Molly Nicoll begins work in Mill Valley, she hasn't lost her idealism, her faith that she's going to connect with her students, break through their shells, and inspire them with a love of learning and a love of reading that she found as a student. But what she finds are overachievers and underachievers, drug addicts and students who wish they were anywhere but in school, and yet want to make their mark on their fellow students. Molly thinks her students need her, though, so she finds herself crossing lines to win their trust, their faith, perhaps even their friendship.

The students she tries to reach are unique in their own ways, but share many of the same characteristics. There's Dave, pushed by his parents to be the best, to make something of himself, to not settle for anything but perfection (it doesn't really matter if he wants the same things); Elisabeth, the beautiful and seemingly untouchable one who actually just wants someone to notice her for who she is; Emma, the talented dancer and self-destructive party girl; Nick, who uses his intelligence only when it suits his purposes; and Cally, who changed her name to Calista after eighth grade, and spends most of her days high and daydreaming with her friends.

The Most Dangerous Place on Earth takes an unflinching look at the culture of privilege that many wealthy students grow up in, and how this privilege actually puts them at a disadvantage unless they're willing to take control of their own lives. Most of these students are unsympathetic, flawed characters, although you understand how they got that way. This is a book that leaves you wondering how true-to-life these behaviors are, and how many students really act this way—and how many teachers get caught up in the need to be part of their students' lives.

Lindsey Lee Johnson is a really talented storyteller. There's nothing particularly shocking, plot-wise, but you get engrossed in the story, even as you may feel at least a bit disgusted. This book reminded me of a bunch of other similar books, but in good ways. All I know is, if high school is really like this now, I'm glad I'm far away from it!!

NetGalley and Random House Publishing Group provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!

Book Review: "Hotels of North America" by Rick Moody

As a society, we're kind of obsessed with giving our opinions about everything—restaurants, movies, businesses, products, etc. (No, the irony is not lost on me that I'm making this comment in a book review I'm writing.)

While many of these reviews you find on sites like Yelp or Amazon (or Goodreads) can be useful, have you ever stopped to wonder what possesses people to share stream-of-consciousness ramblings that have very little relevancy to what is being reviewed? And while we're at it, have you ever been so interested in these people that you find yourself reading a lot of their reviews?

This is the concept behind Rick Moody's Hotels of North America. Presented as a compendium-of-sorts of the reviews of Reginald Edward Morse, which he posted on a fictional website called RateYourLodging.com, the book is both a commentary about one person's opinions on the declining state of many of the country's (and the world's) hotels, as well as the portrait of a man whose life is spiraling out of control, and how he chooses to handle it.

Morse started his career as an investment banker and erstwhile day trader, only to suddenly pursue a (not particularly) successful career as a motivational speaker. As his reviews unfold, we learn that he has been as unlucky in love as he has been in his career—his marriage has ended, and his short-lived affair with a "certain professor of language arts" didn't last, although he admitted to sporadic "bouts of recidivism" where she was concerned. In some of his reviews he mentions K., his companion (who also likes to be referred to by various bird names), with whom he experiences some of the worst hotel experiences, and with whom he practices a number of different cons to try and avoid paying for said hotel stays.

Hotels of North America is similar to Julie Schumacher's Dear Committee Members in that the reviews that comprise this book are much less about the hotels than about Morse's state of mind, although the latter book is more humorous in tone than this one is. Morse comments on everything from front desk clerks at cut-rate hotels ("The young man at the front desk looked like there was no sorrow he had not experienced") to cheese grits ("...it is not possible to consider a serving of cheese grits as falling under the rubric of grits") and Waffle House ("...it was presumed at Waffle House that you were on your last nickel, that you had squandered opportunities, that all was illusion"). He also takes the time to criticize those on RateYourLodging.com who call his veracity into question, or simply criticize his writing or make assumptions about his personal habits.

One of my favorite pieces of Morse's commentary is his thoughts on bed-and-breakfasts: "To summarize, these are the three main problems of bed-and-breakfast establishments: throw pillows, potpourri, and breakfast conversation, and the fourth problem is gazebos. And the fifth problem is water features. And the sixth problem is themed rooms, and the seventh problem is provenance (who owned the inn before and who owned the inn before that, and who owned it before that, and what year the bed-and-breakfast was built, and how old the timber is in the main hall), and the eighth problem is pride of ownership, because why can't it just be a place you stay, why does it always have to be an ideological crusade?"

The reviews are interesting, at times funny, at times poignant, but the book seems to drag on longer than it needs to. And then Moody throws himself into the story, under the guise that he had been asked to write an afterword for the compilation of Morse's reviews, only to find Morse had vanished. I felt this was an unnecessary gimmick that, while it provided some interesting commentary, didn't advance the book in any way.

This is only the second book of Moody's I've ever read, the first being The Ice Storm a number of years ago. As with that book, Hotels of North America proves his storytelling ability and his talent at satirizing suburban America and its denizens. I just wish the book was longer on substance and shorter on gimmickry.

Movie Review: "The Big Short"

I would have liked to have been part of the pitch meeting for this movie:

"There's this book about the housing crisis of 2005 and how it decimated the world economy, and how a few people in the financial world saw it coming and made it big, despite everyone thinking they were crazy. We should make a movie about that. Oh, and let's make it a comedy."

However it did happen, the end result was that Adam McKay's The Big Short is a tremendously thought-provoking, occasionally hysterically funny, slightly confusing yet utterly well-done film, part character study and part meditation on the greed-is-good mentality that kept the U.S. economy afloat for far too long.

Dr. Michael Burry (a shaggy-haired, shorts-wearing Christian Bale) is an eccentric hedge fund manager who spends hours if not days sequestered in his office, walking around barefoot, air drumming and pondering the financial world. While doing some analysis, he comes to the conclusion that the U.S. housing market is a sandcastle waiting the arrival of a big wave. Given the autonomy he has within his company, he proceeds to go to several major banks and bet against the housing market, investing millions of dollars for when it fails. The banks think he's utterly crazy, and are more than happy to agree to his proposal. Everyone, even his own investors, think Burry is crazy, especially since the crash (if it happens) is a few years down the road, and the fund must pay out millions waiting for that to happen.

Meanwhile, cocky banker Jared Vennett (Ryan Gosling) of Deutschebank gets wind of Burry's scheme and wants in on it. He connects with Mark Baum (Steve Carell), an angry, idealistic fund manager who runs an independent fund under the auspices of one of the larger banks. Mark is struggling with his own emotional issues but is tremendously interested in exposing the corruption inherent in the financial industry. Although he and his colleagues don't necessarily trust Vennett, they go into business with him, particularly after discovering how bond agencies are overrating a majority of mortgages.

Unless you're a financial whiz, or were fully immersed in the news when the crisis did occur, some or all of the plot of The Big Short may fly over your head. But while there's a lot of financial terminology bandied about, McKay tries to give it a humorous treatment, with explanations from Margot Robbie while drinking champagne in a bathtub and Selena Gomez gambling in Las Vegas, among others. But while the facts behind the plot may be difficult to decipher or follow, what works so well about the movie is the growing sense of doom and tension that pervades it, its humor, and the fantastic performances McKay shepherds.

Bale's performance is full of quirks, but underneath the cocky bravado and eccentric behavior lies the heart of a man who wonders if he really made the most colossal mistake based on a hunch. As his colleagues, employees, and investors pull away from him, you see a man struggling between doing what he's fairly certain is right and what is better for his clients. He so fully occupies this part you forget that this is the same guy who played Batman.

While Carell's performance is a little closer to the characters he has played in other films, he still brings a great deal of complexity to the part. Mixing anger, bravado, and righteous indignation with emotional fragility, I found his performance stronger than nearly any other dramatic role he has had, particularly his Oscar-nominated turn last year in Foxcatcher. Gosling is at his smarmy, cocky best, sometimes speaking directly to the audience, sometimes snarling, sometimes pondering the enormity of the situation he's found himself in.

What sticks in my mind most about The Big Short beyond the things I've already mentioned are the quietly powerful moments when the characters realize that in order for them to succeed and achieve what they're aiming for, a multitude of lives will be ruined, and our economy might not recover. No one in the movie takes that lightly, even as they're making millions of dollars.

Many are considering The Big Short one of, if not the, leading contender for Best Picture at this year's Oscars, both for its filmmaking and the timeliness of its message. While I don't think it was the best movie of the year, it's certainly one that merits some recognition, and perhaps a second viewing to cut directly to its heart without getting lost in the jargon.

Book Review: "Wreckage" by Emily Bleeker

When Lillian Linden's mother-in-law Margaret won an all-expense paid trip for two to Fiji sponsored by a yogurt company, it seemed a good bonding opportunity for the two of them. Even with Margaret's periodic nagging, the first week of the trip was tremendously relaxing, surrounded by the beauty of Fiji.

For the second week of the trip, they'll fly to a private island, accompanied by Dave Hall, the yogurt company's public relations director. Lillian and Dave develop an easy rapport on the flight.

Less than an hour before they're scheduled to land, the plane crashes, leaving them stranded on an island in the middle of the South Pacific. For nearly two years, they are castaways, struggling to survive and not lose hope. But things happened on the island, things that Lillian and Dave have vowed never to talk about if they are rescued, which they don't believe will ever happen. And when they finally are rescued, they vow to tell their families their version of the truth, nothing else.

"Sometimes you have to lie. Sometimes it's the only way to protect the ones you love."

As they try to re-acclimate themselves to the lives they knew before the crash, Dave and Lillian find the adjustment hard, and hiding the truth even harder. They never counted on the media frenzy that would follow their return home, and after months of refusing interviews, Lillian agrees to one exclusive interview with a dogged television reporter, under the condition that Dave be interviewed as well. She hopes that finally sharing their version of the story will put the questions and suspicions aside, and let everyone go back to living their lives, even if they're not sure that's what they want.

Emily Bleeker's Wreckage is a fascinating story about the things we do to survive a catastrophe, the bargains we make with ourselves and others, the secrets we keep, and the sacrifices we make for others' sake. The book shifts back and forth between the crash and the present, and switches between Lillian and Dave as narrators. You see both of their versions of what happened, how they choose to handle it, and how they tell their stories. But of course, you need to figure out which version is really true.

I really enjoyed this book, and found it really compelling. Although this isn't a book with a lot of plot twists, Bleeker threw in a few surprises here and there. This is a book that derives more of its strength from character development and Bleeker's excellent storytelling than any true sense of suspense, but that doesn't take away from its appeal. Definitely worth reading.

Book Review: "F" by Daniel Kehlmann

Full disclosure: I received an advance readers copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an unbiased review.

In 1984, Arthur Friedland takes his young sons, Martin, Eric, and Ivan to see a famous hypnotist, The Great Lindemann. Arthur doesn't believe in hypnosis and declares himself immune, but he goes to the show to humor his boys. Yet Lindemann calls Arthur up onstage and influences him to reveal his darkest secrets—many of which revolved around Arthur's desire to become a published author and free himself of the yoke of family—and then encourages Arthur to turn his ambitions into reality.

Within a few days, Arthur has emptied out his and his wife's joint bank account and disappears, only to re-emerge as an infamous author years later, with his most famous book leading people worldwide to question their own existence, and some even commit suicide after reading it.

Each of the boys are influenced in some way by their encounter with The Great Lindemann and their father's subsequent escape. Martin becomes a priest, although he struggles with his own devotion, as well as his addiction to food. Eric, a banker, is slowly losing his grip on reality as his career is tanking, while Ivan, once a talented artist, instead uses his talents to become a forger. Each of the boys has a cataclysmic encounter on the same day, which throws each of them further into chaos.

I am a voracious reader, but I tend to like books that are relatively straightforward. F is not one of those books. It tries too hard to be clever and mysterious, and it never gave you enough background to truly understand the characters or the issues they were dealing with. One of the greatest conceits of the book is that each of the sons has a mysterious encounter (on 8/8/08) with several people all named Ron—I just didn't understand the point.

This book was translated from German, so it's entirely possible that the narrative resonates more in its native language. But because Daniel Kehlmann was so deliberately obtuse and mystical in the way he unfolded the plot and developed his characters, I was never able to get immersed in the book, and truly don't understand the point of it at all.