Book Review: "Lucky Us" by Amy Bloom

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

Amy Bloom's latest novel begins with quite a hook:

"My father’s wife died. My mother said we should drive down to his place and see what might be in it for us."

It's the 1940s, and Eva, an awkward yet intelligent teenager, has her life uprooted when she and her mother get a glimpse of her father's life away from them, a life she had no clue about. She is intrigued by her glamorous half-sister, Iris, who is determined to be a star. The two set out on a journey to Hollywood, where Iris quickly begins to get noticed, and Eva watches from the sidelines, the ever-faithful champion. But when fame proves it has an ugly side as well, the girls are rescued by their father, and wind up headed back across the country, to pursue a new dream on Long Island.

Their lives take an unexpected turn, and each seizes whatever opportunities they can, whether ethical or unethical, until tragedy separates the sisters. Eva begins to realize she must be responsible for her own destiny, and her life continues to follow paths she never expected. As she longs for love of her own, she tries to figure out what her future holds, and whether Iris will be a part of that future.

Lucky Us is the story of the likely and unlikely bonds we forge in life, and how we handle adversity and surprise. It's also a moving look at what makes a family—an interesting concept in today's world, but even more complex given that the book is set in the 1940s. And above all, this is the story about love—romantic and platonic, among friends, lovers, and family. Eva in particular is a fascinating character, one you think at first glance is passive but you realize how insightful and resourceful she is.

I've been a huge fan of Amy Bloom's since I first read some of her short stories in the 1990s. I just love the way she occupies her characters, and pays such detail to the setting as well as the plot. I just wish I loved the book a bit more. It was good, and it definitely kept my interest, but it just didn't wow me. I felt as if a few of the characters weren't as fleshed out yet they had major roles in the plot, and I felt at times that the use of letters as a device to advance the plot didn't quite work. But still, Amy Bloom's storytelling ability dazzles, and that makes the book an interesting and readable one.

Book Review: "The Book of Unknown Americans" by Cristina Henriquez

Arturo and Alma Rivera lived a happy life in Mexico until their beautiful teenage daughter, Maribel, sustains a serious injury in an accident. Unsure if she'll ever be the same again, they migrate to the United States—Delaware, specifically—where Maribel will be able to attend a special school and hopefully begin to recover some semblance of normalcy. But America is difficult for the Riveras—the job Arturo secures to sponsor their journey to America is brutal, Maribel doesn't seem to be making much progress in school, and Alma struggles with English, and trying to become acclimated to a different life.

"Because a place can do many things against you, and if it's your home or if it was your home at one time, you still love it. That's how it works."

The one bright spot is that the Riveras meet Celia and Rafael Toro, who came to the U.S. years ago to escape the destruction and violence in Panama. The Toros are more settled into their American lives, although Celia in particular longs to return home, at least for a visit. And when their teenage son, Mayor, who struggles with self-confidence in the shadow of his more athletic, popular older brother, sets eyes on Maribel for the first time, he finds himself completely in her thrall, and wants nothing more to spend time with her, despite what others perceive as her challenges.

As the relationship between the Riveras and the Toros grows stronger, it is tested—as are relationships within each family—by secrets, incorrect assumptions, fears, longing, and struggles. And a number of incidents occur which set in motion a chain of events which will affect each member of both families in vastly different ways.

Cristina Henriquez's The Book of Unknown Americans gives a powerful and moving glimpse into the immigrant experience for many Latin American people. In addition to telling the story of the Rivera and Toro families, the plot is interwoven with brief testimonials from other neighbors, each of whom came from a different Latin American country and experienced different struggles and happinesses upon arriving in America. This is a book that makes you think a little bit more about the challenges and barriers people often deal with when coming to America, even legally.

I thought this was a very captivating read, and Henriquez is an excellent storyteller. While some of her characters may seem familiar, I thought she imbued them with interesting characteristics and quirks that made them more complex. I read this book very quickly, and found it an emotionally rich story I'm still thinking about.

Book Review: "A Sudden Light" by Garth Stein

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

When you're growing up, you rarely give much thought to your family history or your ancestry. In some cases, you have no idea (through no fault of your own) what your family history is, because of the myriad tensions and estrangements that characterize many families.

That is definitely the case for 14-year-old Trevor Riddell. In the summer of 1990, strained by financial problems, his parents agree to a trial separation, which sends his mother back to live with her family in England, and sends Trevor and his father, Jones, to the Pacific Northwest to visit his father's family. Trevor didn't even know the extent to which his father Jones still had a family, as Jones has been estranged from them for some time.

But when they arrive at Riddell House, the family's decrepit mansion, which is constructed of giant, whole trees, and is set on a huge estate overlooking Puget Sound, Trevor begins to understand the real reason for their trip. Jones has one mission: to convince his aging father, Samuel, who is suffering from dementia, to sign over the property rights, which will allow Jones and his sister, the enigmatic Serena, to sell the house and the property and live a life of wealth. That, however, is easier said than done, as Samuel doesn't want to leave Riddell House, because he is visited by his late wife's ghost.

And that's not the only visitor to the house. The family patriarch, ruthless timber baron Elijah Riddell, mandated that the house be allowed to return to untamed forestland, as a way of making up for the millions of trees his business killed over the years, and Trevor begins to have visions of Elijah's son, who won't rest until his single-minded agenda of carrying out Elijah's wishes is successful. Trevor holds the key, and he is torn between what might ensure his parents get back together, and fulfillment of a promise a father made to his son nearly 100 years before.

I thought A Sudden Light was a moving, beautifully written story about the powerful hold that family can have on us, and how we cannot let ourselves be destroyed by what happened in our past. This is a story about manipulation, loyalty, love, and the desperate need to do the right thing—if you can figure out what the "right thing" truly is. While the "ghost story" elements might not appeal to everyone, I found them to be an integral part of the plot, and really added to the book's appeal.

I am among the few who didn't read Garth Stein's The Art of Racing in the Rain, so this was the first time I had the opportunity to experience his writing. I enjoyed this book tremendously and found it truly an emotional, beautiful book. I know that a story about the tenuous relationships between fathers and sons would hit me hard just a little more than six weeks after losing my own father, but beyond the sap factor, I really loved this.

Book Review: "The Blessings" by Elise Juska

"It's about these contradictions...having this identity as part of a big family but also this part of yourself that's separate, dealing with your own private stuff, that they never really know. Or dealing with the same stuff, just differently."

The Blessings are a large Irish Catholic family living in the Philadelphia area. Elise Juska's novel of linked chapters gives a glimpse of many of the members of this family as they deal with happiness, struggles, and tragedies—namely the death of the family patriarch and the untimely death of the oldest son. The book progresses in linear fashion through time and follows several generations of the family, from the matriarch, Helen, forced to confront grief after the deaths of both her husband and her son, John, to Helen's three surviving children and John's young widow, Lauren, to a number of Helen's grandchildren as they grow into adulthood.

These are stories of the bonds that tie us together and the unspoken hurts and petty thoughts that tear us apart. These are stories about the fulfillment of dreams and the realization that not all you've hoped for will come to fruition. You get the opportunity to experience the lives of these people alongside of them, with, in some cases, a little more knowledge about what's going to happen to them than they have.

"You hear how people's priorities change and eventually they go back to where they came from, like some kind of homing instinct. And you think it won't happen to you, but then something changes, and there you are."

I found The Blessings to be a compelling and well-drawn portrait of a family drawn together in times of happiness and sadness. I'll admit, however, that although each chapter had overlapping characters and situations, it didn't feel like one novel, but more like a collection of linked stories. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.)

Juska did a terrific job in imbuing her characters with unique personalities, so I had no problem keeping each of them straight even as some of them married and gave birth to their own children. As with any novel-in-chapters, some of the stories are more interesting than others, but on the whole, this is a tremendously interesting look at one family's ups and downs, and it definitely makes you look at your own family in a different light.

Book Review: "Mr. Mercedes" by Stephen King

One of the things I love about Stephen King is his ability to create memorable villains and heroes. Even when a book isn't one of his best, the characters are often one of the things that sets his writing apart from other authors. Characters like Pennywise, Annie Wilkes, Jack Torrance, even Christine, remain seared in my memory years after I've read the books in which they've appeared. Mr. Mercedes, King's newest book, doesn't rank among some of his best, but I still found its protagonist, the villain, and some of the supporting characters pretty strong.

Early one morning, a large crowd of people gathers to line up for a job fair. Many of the people are desperate for work. And suddenly, without warning, a man drives a Mercedes into the groggy crowd, killing eight people (including an infant) and wounding nearly twenty more. The Mercedes was stolen from a wealthy woman, although she denies leaving her key in the car, and the perpetrator left no traces behind. It's as if he planned this crime perfectly and knew what he needed to do to escape detection.

Several months later, former detective Bill Hodges, feeling useless and depressed after retirement, gets a letter from the man purporting to be "Mr. Mercedes." He divulges facts only the killer could know, and although he vows that he isn't interested in committing another massacre, he does prey on Hodges' depression. However, the letter ultimately shakes Hodges out of his doldrums, vowing to catch one of the criminals he couldn't bring to justice before retirement, and ensuring he prevents another tragedy from occurring.

Hodges will have his work cut out for him. Not only does he need to keep his shadow investigation secret from his former partner and the police department, but "Mr. Mercedes" is far more twisted and intelligent than he realizes. And the criminal has plans for Hodges—and for a future scheme—and he will not be deterred by anyone. But what Mr. Mercedes doesn't realize is that Hodges, too, has some tricks up his sleeve, plus an unlikely pair of assistants to help save the day.

While I thought the plot of Mr. Mercedes was fairly formulaic, and not at the level of some of King's best books, I really thought the characters were vividly drawn. Even though they grew from stereotypes, I found each of them far more complex than initially expected, and that made the book more compelling for me to keep reading. King's use of language and metaphor is always spot-on, and I also liked how he threw in a few inside jokes about some of his more well-known books as well.

If you're a fan of Stephen King, this is a good book for beach or vacation reading (although it will make you think twice about going into a crowded place or waiting on a long line of people). It's not vintage King, but it's definitely entertaining.

Book Review: "My Salinger Year" by Joanna Rakoff

I read more fiction than nonfiction, but quite often when I read memoirs they tend to recount the challenges, tragedies, or dysfunction that the authors have experienced or overcome. That's one of the reasons I found Joanna Rakoff's My Salinger Year so refreshing.

In the late 1990s, Joanna takes her first "real" job post-graduate school, as the assistant to the main agent at a prestigious literary agency. For years, "the Agency" has been a lion in the literary world, represents some true legends, including "Jerry," aka J.D. Salinger. Yet the agency seems mired in the past, shunning the use of modern technology (correspondence is still typed on typewriters rather than computers), and its old school approach leaves it vulnerable. For Joanna, who dreams of becoming a poet, day after day of typing up dictated letters from her boss isn't entirely challenging, and she hopes to be given the chance to read manuscripts and perhaps someday discover the next great author.

"I did, desperately, want to be part of the Agency, more than I had wanted anything in ages, and without really understanding why—I had to relinquish some semblance of myself, my own volition and inclinations."

One of Joanna's responsibilities is to respond to the enormous number of fan letters Salinger receives daily. People of every age and walk of life write to Salinger, asking for advice, for validation, for support, and bare their hearts, telling him how much his books have meant to them. Having never read any of Salinger's books, she doesn't quite understand why people are so affected by his writing. Joanna is supposed to send a form letter explaining that Salinger doesn't want to see any of his fan mail, but she is so moved (and in some cases, perturbed) by these letters that she takes it upon herself to respond to some of them on her own.

Meanwhile, Joanna struggles with her own love life, torn between her Socialist boyfriend, an aspiring writer and boxer who doesn't quite show her the love she deserves, and her college boyfriend, whom she left without warning. She also is forced to confront financial realities after being taken care of by her parents for so long. As she waits for her literary dreams to come true, she wonders what her future holds—both within the Agency and in life.

My Salinger Year is a funny, moving account of a young woman's experience in the literary world, something you rarely get a glimpse of. It's also a tremendously well-written look at the power of books and the written word, and its ability to move and affect us. While I've never worked for a literary agency and didn't get the chance to meet J.D. Salinger, I identified with some of Joanna's struggles, which made the book fascinating and affecting.

Book Review: "The Geography of You and Me" by Jennifer E. Smith

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

Lucy and Owen meet cute—they're stuck in their apartment building elevator, between floors, during a citywide blackout. Lucy lives on the 24th floor, and has lived in New York City for as long as she can remember, while Owen is the son of the new building superintendent, and lives in the basement. Lucy loves all that the city has to offer, while Owen would rather be anyplace else. Yet they feel a connection between them, and when they are rescued from the elevator, they spend the rest of the night wandering the crowded streets and sleeping on the roof—the place where Owen feels most relaxed—and staring at the stars.

But all in the course of teenage romance never runs smoothly. Both Lucy and Owen have abandonment issues—Lucy's parents are always jetting off to someplace exotic, leaving her and her older brothers alone. And Owen and his father are struggling to recover from a tragedy that has rocked their lives. After their one night together, Owen and Lucy feel incapable of trying to recapture the magic of that evening, and before long, Owen moves away with his father, and Lucy moves to Edinburgh with her parents.

Since they barely knew each other in the first place, why do they feel so torn, between the excitement of a new place and longing for the place they left? Communication between the two is infrequent—although it raises both of their spirits when it happens. It isn't long before both have embarked on new lives, separated by more than simply geographic distance. And although neither can describe why they're still drawn to each other, they also can't describe why they can't seem to connect in the right way, and then their lives continue taking them far from one another.

"If you were to draw a map of the two of them, of where they started out and where they would both end up, the lines would be shooting away from each other like magnets spun around on their poles. And it occurred to Owen that there was something deeply flawed about this, that there should be circles or angles or turns, anything that might make it possible for the two lines to meet again. Instead, they were both headed in the exact opposite directions."

The Geography of You and Me is a tremendously engaging, sweet, enjoyable book about the struggle between one's head and one's heart, the struggle to do what you know you should do versus what you want to do. It's a book about the walls we put up to keep the hurt out, and how we don't always realize those walls keep the happiness out as well. And it's a book about overcoming the challenges of distance—in miles, in communication, in desire.

Those of you who have read my reviews before know I'm a bit of a sap, but I was moved by this book, and really enjoyed it. I know some of its emotional tug came from my residual grief over the recent loss of my dad, but I still felt the story touch my heart, even though I had a feeling I knew how it would resolve itself. Jennifer E. Smith did a great job creating these characters and their story, and while at times I wanted to shake them both, just to make them tell the other how they truly felt, I know that this type of silence is more common than those who are completely verbose about their feelings.

If you're a sap like me, or just like sweet love stories, give this a try. And maybe next time you get in an elevator you'll look around at who you're riding with...