Book Review: "World of Trouble" by Ben H. Winters

I both love and hate reading a series of books. I love the familiarity of the characters and the settings, as it's kind of like spending time with old friends. The downside, of course, is that a series eventually comes to an end, and while sometimes the conclusion is satisfying (although you don't want it to end), many times it's disappointing.

With that in mind, I approached World of Trouble, the final novel in Ben H. Winters' terrifically creative and emotionally powerful Last Policeman series, with a great deal of trepidation. I so enjoyed the first two books and absolutely loved the world he created, so I hoped that I wouldn't be disappointed with how he concluded the series. (Spoiler alert: I wasn't.)

"I was a detective for only three months, promoted out of nowhere and dismissed just as abruptly when the CPD was absorbed by the Department of Justice, and so I never received the higher-level training I would have in the normal run of a career."

Henry "Hank" Palace was a police detective in New Hampshire. He was tremendously dedicated to his job. The problem was, scientists discovered that a giant asteroid was on a collision course with Earth, thereby ending the world as we know it, so his job was eliminated, as police departments all across the world were phased out. But Hank couldn't turn off his instincts to uncover the truth about crimes he is aware of, or his need to protect his sister, Nico, who has fallen in with a group of people convinced there's an Armageddon-esque way to destroy the asteroid before it destroys Earth, but the government has covered it up.

When World of Trouble begins, Hank is holed up in New England in a well-stocked safe house with a number of his former law enforcement colleagues, getting ready for the end of the world. But he desperately wants to find Nico before the asteroid hits, and so he finds himself traveling to Ohio with his sidekick, Cortez, and Houdini, the dog he somehow adopted. Along the way, they encounter cities taken over by violence, cities which seem empty because their residents have gone into hiding, and cities which truly are abandoned. And Hank can never turn off his protective instincts, as many of the people he tries to help remind him of Nico.

Their arrival in the small Ohio town leads them to several startling and disturbing discoveries. And as the amount of time for Hank to find Nico before the asteroid hits dwindles, Hank is desperate to figure out where she has gone and what led her there, but more than that, he wants to truly understand whether the solution she so fervently believed in was as far-fetched as it sounds, or if this could be reality. But the truth is far more disturbing—and dangerous—than he imagined.

I don't know how I imagined Winters would conclude this series, but I definitely thought that World of Trouble was a fitting, well-done conclusion, which remained true to Hank's character and the situations that Winters created for him. As you might imagine of a book set in the last few days before the world is expected to end, this was tremendously moving and poignant, and very well-written. There were plenty of twists and turns to keep my interest, but as with the other books in the series, I also found the whole idea very thought-provoking, as I wondered how I would handle knowing that the world was expected to end in a matter of days.

I would definitely recommend you pick up this series, and read it in order. You'll be amazed at Winters' creativity and his storytelling ability, but you'll also find yourself fully immersed in this world, and hooked on these characters.

Book Review: "Everything I Never Told You" by Celeste Ng

"Lydia is dead. But they don't know this yet."

The Lydia in question is Lydia Lee, a teenager growing up in the Ohio suburbs of the late 1970s. A hybrid of her parents, with her Chinese father's black hair and her American mother's blue eyes, she has always stood out—particularly when all she wanted to do was fit in. Despite being the middle child, she is the one bearing all of her parents' expectations—her mother's desires that Lydia pursue the medical career she wasn't able to, and her father's wishes that she be popular, affable, and charming.

Lydia's death lays bare fissures between and among each remaining member of her family. Her parents' relationship wearies under the strain of grief, regrets, and the pressure of being an ethnically mixed couple in a world not quite ready to accept them. Lydia's older brother, Nath (short for Nathan), is desperate for his parents to recognize his achievements, yet they leave him to chart his own course, and he wonders if his attitude toward his sister in the last few days of her life had any impact on her death. And Hannah, the youngest daughter, all but forgotten in the haze, but she sees and notices more than anyone realizes, and is desperate to share her love and her thoughts with her family.

This is a sad book even without Lydia's death at its core. This is a book about all of the secrets, resentments, fears, hopes, regrets, and wishes we leave unsaid, and the toll they all take on our lives. It's amazing to realize how giving voice to one feeling, one irritation, one fear can truly change the course of a life, but all too often, they remain unspoken. It's also a book about the need to be the person you want to be, because if you allow someone else to mold you into something you don't want to be, you will lose yourself.

Everything I Never Told You is beautifully written and poignant, but because of all of the things left unspoken, it was a little frustrating at times, much like real life. The book spans through the early days of Lydia's parents' relationship to the aftermath of her death, and points to future events as well. All I kept thinking as I read the book was, "How sad." This is a tragic book, but not a maudlin one, and Celeste Ng's writing is poetically lyrical.

Book Review: "Landline" by Rainbow Rowell

Last year, Rainbow Rowell catapulted onto my list of favorite authors with two of her books, Eleanor & Park and Fangirl. I just loved her writing and the characters she created, and both books made my year-end list of the best books I read. So needless to say, when I saw she had a new book coming out this year, I couldn't wait to get my hands on it, and I waited to see how it would be different.

Georgie McCool is a successful sitcom writer, a job she has dreamed of for as long as she can remember. She and her best friend, Seth, have been a comedy team since college, and they have risen through the ranks of the comedy writing world. They're finally working on a commercially successful show, despite the fact that they hate the comedian who is the star, and they dream of someday having their own show, the show they've thought of and planned for since they first met.

Georgie and her husband, Neal, have dated since college. While they both truly love each other, and the family they have created with their two young daughters, they don't always get along. But what married couple does, right? Maybe Georgie doesn't try as hard as she could, maybe she's not as fully involved in taking care of the girls as Neal is. And maybe Neal resents Georgie's weird symbiotic relationship with Seth all these years. But every couple has issues.

"How does anyone ever know whether love is enough? It's an idiotic question. Like, if you fall in love, if you're that lucky, who are you to even ask whether it's enough to make you happy?"

One day, Georgie and Seth finally get the news they've been hoping for—their dream show has been given the go-ahead by a network executive to be a mid-season replacement. They have just a few days to come up with the first several scripts. The only problem is, it's two days before Christmas, and Neal, Georgie, and the girls have plans to go to Nebraska to visit Neal's mother. But Georgie says she has to stay in Los Angeles, as she can't give up this dream.

Georgie is reeling from Neal's departure, and her fears that this may be the crushing blow to their marriage. One night she finds a way to communicate with college-aged Neal, at a moment when their relationship was at a crossroads. Although she fears continuing to speak with "past Neal" might ruin something in the future (a la Back to the Future), she can't tear herself away, and at the same time, she can't help but wonder whether there's some cosmic opportunity to try and fix something in their relationship—and whether she should stop it this time before it took off.

I read Landline in a day. While I didn't love it as much as Rowell's earlier books, I really, really enjoyed it. As I've said numerous times before, I'm sappy enough to enjoy stories of making love work through difficult times, and I guess I've read enough books with gimmicks like these that I didn't have any trouble with this plot twist either. In fact, I imagined what I would do if I had the same opportunity Georgie did.

If I have any criticism of Landline, it's that the characters are all fairly unsympathetic. From time to time, I wanted to shake nearly every one of them to say what they were thinking, to prevent something major from happening, although I know that's pretty much like life is. But I just love the way Rowell writes, so even with cranky characters, she has the ability to charm me and keep me reading. Can't wait for her next one!!

Book Review: "The Opposite of Loneliness: Essays and Stories" by Marina Keegan

I randomly stumbled upon this book, and I'm so glad I did.

Marina Keegan was an aspiring writer who graduated magna cum laude from Yale in May 2012. She was a talented go-getter with a bright future ahead of her, one which included a job at the New Yorker and a play in production. Five days after her graduation, she was killed in a car accident while on her way to visit family.

An essay called "The Opposite of Loneliness," which she wrote for the Yale Daily News, recounted the excitement she felt about graduating from college and heading into her future, yet it was also tinged with the melancholy of the simpler college days, when minor problems seemed so insurmountable. After her death, the essay went viral, and it led to the publication of this book by the same name, a collection of short stories and essays she wrote.

After reading this book, I can say unequivocally that Marina Keegan was an exceptionally talented writer, one whose fiction was imbued with sensitivity and rich characters, and whose essays were insightful, sometimes humorous and sometimes quirky. The essays in which she referred to the thoughts and fears she had about her own future were particularly poignant, because she had no idea just how short her future would sadly be. It's difficult, of course, to separate the emotional weight of her work from the tragedy of her death, but I still believe this pieces would be powerful had she not died.

I particularly enjoyed a number of her short stories, particularly "Cold Pastoral," in which a college student deals with the death of a fellow student she was dating, but isn't really sure what their relationship meant to her; "Winter Break," which told of the difficulties a college student has reconciling her own romantic relationship with the difficulties her parents are having; "Reading Aloud," in which an aging woman reads to a younger blind man and finds unusual emotional catharsis; the perils of returning to your hometown after your life hasn't gone the way you planned, in "Hail, Full of Grace"; and "Challenger Deep," the story of the crew on a doomed submarine.

Of her essays, the ones I enjoyed the most were "Stability in Motion," in which Keegan recounted her relationship with her first car, a gift from her grandmother, and "Against the Grain," which told of her challenges living with Celiac disease, and her mother's fiercely protective nature where those issues were concerned.

Keegan's writing is layered, at times both poetic and humorous, and quite beautiful. The literary world lost a star it never got the chance to have, but luckily her work was left behind for us to savor, and wonder what might have been.

Book Review: "Brutal Youth" by Anthony Breznican

Some say that the high school years are the best years of your life. Those who say that never attended St. Michael's school. Anthony Breznican's novel, Brutal Youth, essentially chronicles one year—1991—at this Catholic high school, which would make the principal from Lean On Me, the teacher from Dangerous Minds, and the students from Heathers or Mean Girls transfer as quickly as possible.

Peter Davidek has always lived in the shadow of his older brother, Charlie, which isn't a good thing, since Charlie is now persona non grata in their family. But since Charlie went to St. Michael's, their mother wants Peter to attend school there as well. But orientation day for visiting 8th graders is somewhat eventful, when a troubled student snaps, unleashing an attack on fellow students and teachers alike. It falls on Peter and another prospective student, Noah Stein, to rescue a student injured in the attack, even though it means disobeying—and making an enemy of—the school's guidance counselor.

When Peter and Noah begin their freshman year, they quickly realize this isn't just another school. On top of the fact that the school itself is falling apart, and the chapel has taken over the school's gymnasium since the original chapel burnt to the ground, freshmen are like raw meat to the older students. It's not just innocent pranks or teasing—it's all-out abuse, physical and emotional, every day. And the teachers are just as bad as the kids. It's all justified, you see, because when the upperclassmen were freshmen, they were abused, so it's kind of like the circle of life, you know?

Noah, who has been thrown out of schools before, is a take-no-prisoners kind of person, one who doesn't let anyone bother him, although that bravado hides some real emotional vulnerability. He and Peter become an unlikely team against their tormentors, along with fellow student Lorelei Paskal, who charms them both but isn't as successful making friends with her classmates. But as the school year progresses, their relationships with each other and their other classmates are tested by violence, misunderstandings, secrets, and a faculty more than willing to turn their backs on what is happening in the school.

"Everybody's pissed off and wants to f--king hit somebody, but this whole system has only one rule: You can't hurt anyone who can hurt you back."

This is a brutal book, one that truly lives up to its title. I have never seen students, teachers, and parents so relentlessly cruel, petty, and awful, even though Breznican gives you some idea how they got that way. While I loved Peter and Noah's characters, I just found every other character in the book so utterly unappealing and unsympathetic. I had a hard time believing that any school, any administration could be so bad, but then I remembered that the book is set in 1991, a time before Columbine and other incidents of school violence.

This book reminded me of some of my own issues with high school. I definitely wanted to see where Breznican would take the plot, to see if he could continue escalating the cruelty and all-around awfulness of his characters. But as much as this book troubled me and made me angry, I also would love to know what happened next, so I guess the characters stuck with me.

I've seen so many glowing reviews of this book, so if my description intrigues you, I'd encourage you to read it. I can't get the characters out of my head, in a good way. I guess in the end, I'm struck by this quote from the book:

"The things we surrender to when we're young, we keep surrendering to the rest of our lives."

Movie Review: "Jersey Boys"

Making movies out of Broadway musicals is nothing new, but it seems to have become more frequent in recent years, and we've even gone the movie-turned musical-turned movie again route a few times. (Of course, they've also made musicals out of movies, but that's a different article.)

While sometimes the adaptation works (IMHO, Grease is a prime example), many times the transition from stage to screen is more awkward, because where simply bursting into song works for musicals, it doesn't always feel right in the movies, so directors and screenwriters feel compelled to add dialogue and facial expressions that weren't necessary onstage.

Jersey Boys was a pretty fantastic musical, the winner of the Tony for Best Musical in 2006. Recounting the story of 60s-supergroup The Four Seasons, from their humble beginnings in (where else?) New Jersey to their successes and challenges along the way, the musical was upbeat and grabbed your attention from start to finish, because The Four Seasons' music was so memorable and hooked you immediately.

Clint Eastwood's film adaptation endeavors to do the same thing, tracing the group's start to know-it-all Tommy DeVito's (Vincent Piazza) shepherding of young Frankie Valli née Castelluccio (John Lloyd Young, recreating his Tony-winning role) to the mega-talent he became. After a series of brushes with the law, DeVito and his friend Nick Massi (Michael Lomenda) agree to let Frankie join their musical group, only to discover the world doesn't want any more trios. So they find Bob Gaudio (Erich Bergen), already a successful songwriter in his own right, and convince him to join the group and write them some hits.

But success doesn't come easy to the Jersey boys (see what I did there?), as they find themselves fighting with a record executive to get the chance to record a demo, and they need to find the money to fund their own studio time. And then that first magical hit takes shape...and the rest is history. But along their road to success comes a number of bumps—personal problems within and outside the group, jealousy, gambling problems which lead to debts and other challenges, the need to control the group, etc. Suddenly this group that made such joyful music doesn't seem so joyful.

Getting the chance to hear all of The Four Seasons' hits, see all of the terrific choreography, and feel all of the energy from their performances was what made the musical so appealing. The music is still the best part of the movie, but the pauses between songs are much longer. There's far too much introspection, far too much backstory, far too much of the characters talking directly to the camera (a gimmick which worked much better in the stage version), and just not enough singing. But when the band takes center, well, stage, that's when the movie comes alive.

The performances are all strong—Young still sounds great (although you can tell the years of hitting those high notes has worn down the smoothness of his voice), and although I wish they had been able to reunite the original Broadway cast for the movie (especially Christian Hoff, who also won a Tony for playing Tommy DeVito), Piazza, Bergen, and Lomenda do quite well. The only person who seems a little out of place is Christopher Walken, who plays mafioso Gyp DeCarlo. I can't help but feel that many of his performances have become caricatures of Walken himself.

If you loved the musical, you'll probably be a little disappointed by the movie, although the music is still worth the price of admission. It's an okay movie, not a great one—if you have a choice, I'd definitely recommend you see the musical if at all possible. Ultimately, the movie will be good to watch at home one rainy or cold night, where you can sing along with no fear of upsetting your fellow audience members, but I definitely wouldn't pay full price for it.

Movie Review: "Begin Again"

What purpose does music serve? When an artist creates a song, should they create it for themselves and hope that people will enjoy their vision, or should they cater to what the audience wants? How far should you follow your instincts? These questions, as well as, can Adam Levine act, are answered in the sweet, tremendously enjoyable Begin Again, written and directed by John Carney, the genius behind Once.

Dan (Mark Ruffalo, suitably scruffy) is a once-successful music executive nearing the end of his tether. Living in a small apartment, alienated from his wife (Catherine Keener) and teenage daughter (Hailee Steinfeld), he drinks too much and has taken too many risks following musicians he believes will be the next sure thing. Everyone is through coddling and indulging him, even his best friend Saul (Mos Def), with whom he co-founded the record company.

One night Dan drunkenly stumbles into a club to find Greta (Keira Knightley), a dejected musician, half-heartedly singing after being goaded onstage during an open mike night. Greta has her own issues—namely, her boyfriend (Adam Levine), with whom she wrote songs and pursued musical dreams, has suddenly become a star, and left her behind. Despite her lack of performance ability, Dan is immediately taken with Greta's voice and her songwriting, and believes she will be his ticket back into the musical good graces, if only she takes his suggestions. (A scene in which Dan "sees" how he could produce her song is tremendously creative and fun.)

The thing is, Greta isn't so sure she wants to compromise her vision for her music in order to make a hit. She doesn't really care if she sells her music—she just wants to be able to perform it, at least when she's not wallowing in her misery. But with nowhere to go to record the album, Dan convinces Greta to follow an outlandish idea—why not record the album all over New York City, in the middle of the elements, with all of the ambient sounds—traffic, crowd noise, etc.—as part of the album's sound?

As Dan struggles with his own personal problems, Greta is trying to resolve her feelings for her former boyfriend, since he has recorded one of the songs she wrote for him. Will love win out, or will music? Will Greta compromise and embrace Dan's vision for her music, or will she stick to her guns? And will Dan be able to get his old life back?

While most of the plot of Begin Again is fairly familiar, the performances—particularly Ruffalo and Knightley's—keep the movie fresh and appealing. They're an unlikely pair but Ruffalo's rumpledness (if that isn't a word, it should be) and Knightley's slightly uptight airs mesh well together. Keener and Steinfeld do well with what they're given, and Cee Lo Green tears into his small role with an appropriate amount of gusto.

And to answer the questions I'm sure you're wanting to ask: Knightley's singing is pretty good—her music is actually something I'd find myself listening to. Levine's acting, on the other hand, isn't as impressive as his singing. While his character never really transcends general douchebaggery, some of his lines are delivered with about as much flair and emotion as Green Card-era Andie MacDowell. (Watch that movie and you'll see what I mean.)

While Begin Again doesn't quite reach the level of Once, I really enjoyed this, more because it combined my love of movies with my love of music than anything else. But that's more than enough reason to check this one out. (Plus, for the most part, Levine is still nice to look at.)