Review: The Girl in the Garden by Kamala Nair

For most of her life Rakhee has locked away a summer of her childhood spent in the hot, dry climate of India. Having harbored this secret from her fiance, The Girl in the Garden is Rakhee’s letter to him as she leaves to confront her past and the lives that intertwine with her own back in India. Deep in the forest behind her ancestral home, a garden with a dark mystery lies shrouded under a canopy of foliage. We are transported to Rakhee’s childhood and the summer she discovered the garden in Kamala Nair’s debut novel.

For a debut, The Girl in the Garden is fairly accomplished, but that is mostly due to the last quarter of the novel. Everything leading up to the end is averagely lukewarm, predictable and uninspired, until Rakhee makes the decision to follow her head and heart instead of her relative’s orders. Her actions deeply affect the lives of her relatives and the novel becomes the dark and  mysteriously lush tale it claims to be.

The Girl in the Garden is a swift read, but it leaves me perplexed as to how I truly feel about it. It’s enjoyable, but doesn’t leave me in awe. With one exception, I could see the plot twists coming from a mile away. The writing is fine, but again, nothing notably unique. I didn’t hate it, but I would be hard-pressed to recommend it to other readers.

3 stars

(I received this novel from the Amazon Vine program.)

Review: A Long-Forgotten Truth by Rachel Ballard

How can I review the book I’m publishing? It’s not an easy feat when you’re so close to something you’re so proud of, but I’ll give it a go.

Rachel Ballard’s debut novel is the journey Gail Cavanaugh’s takes that defines her. At a fork in the road where she can choose to look the other way or dive unflinchingly forward, she follows the ghostly voice in her head and leaves her home in Duluth, Minnesota, and sets off in search of her biological father. With nothing but a picture and the name of a town in Washington, she sets her sights westward. What, and who, she finds on the other side of the continent is more than what she expected, and more than what she asked for.

Rachel Ballard’s exquisite skill with writing spoke to me the first time I read her manuscript, when it was only part of the novel you can read today. Lengthened into a full work, she never failed to impress with raw talent. We are deeply interwoven into her words and the enigmatic story she has written. Each time I reread I was amazed at the way the story naturally arcs and the pieces that we are given that link together as we go onward. The ending is perfect and complete, leaving nothing wanting.

It’s quite obvious that I encourage everyone to read A Long-Forgotten Truth. As a small press publisher I am thrilled with our inaugural novel. A Long-Forgotten Truth is truly something we are proud of, and something I would honestly, with a book blogger’s heart and true intent, recommend to everyone.

You can support Rozlyn Press and purchase your copy now online through Barnes & Noble and Amazon. You can also enter the giveaway at Goodreads. Those of you who live in Washington can catch Rachel at Eagle Books on Bainbridge Island on August 4. Click here for more information.

5 stars (I am the publisher, of course)

Review: Bitter in the Mouth by Monique Truong

Linda Hammerick grew up in small-town Boiling Springs, North Carolina, always knowing she was a little different from everyone else. To her, words have tastes. The sound of mother brings the flavor of chocolate milk to her mouth, even if her mother is anything but comforting and sweet. The name of the neighbor boy evokes a palate of orange sherbet, and hearing her own name the earthy tang of fresh mint. Bitter in the Mouth is the story of Linda’s life with these never-ending incoming tastes.

At its core, Bitter in the Mouth is a beautiful novel, the words are soft and flow sweetly around Linda who is a character we can appreciate and enjoy. We’re given tidbits of her childhood, from meeting her best friend via letters, to the instant bond she shares with her great-uncle, to the abhorrence she feels for her absent mother and abrasive grandmother. I enjoyed the relationships Truong developed amongst Linda and the others. I only wish the whole book had been as cohesive as its main artery.

There are major parts of Linda’s story that we’re not told about in the beginning; this is a common tool of writing, but when those pieces of information are revealed later in the novel, it’s less of an unveiling and more of a brick to the head. Basically, it left me wondering why the choice to hide so much crucial detail until the very end. A similar conundrum were strange threads that magically appeared throughout the novel, but had no connection to anything other than North Carolina. The Wright brothers and their first flights, the legend of Virginia Dare, and a story about George Horton, a poet and slave. I literally have no idea why these characters or stories were involved. If there’s a reason for them, other than abstraction, it’s complete lost on me.

The other complaint I have about Bitter in the Mouth is a technical one. I know the author is trying to explain the tastes that Linda experiences when she says or hears a particular word, but the way these tastes are connected to the words is distracting. For every sentence spoken aloud, a specific taste is attached to each provoking word in italics. For example: momchocolatemilk, Lindamint, Wadeorangesherbertboy. This makes for a distracting and often halting flow of reading when full sentences are constructed this way. Either the sentence’s meaning is lost, or if you choose to gloss over the italics, the taste is lost. I have no better solution to this problem, but it’s sad that the connection between word and taste fell flat for me.

In general I really enjoyed the majority of Truong’s writing, I think she created a wonderfully realistic, yet unique character and world around Linda. There’s so much more to her story than just the synesthesia she experiences with words. There are certain things about Bitter in the Mouth that I did not love so much, but I lived through them and would still recommend this novel to those who might be intrigued by the premise.

4 stars

(I received a free copy through the Amazon Vine program)

Review: Skylight Confessions by Alice Hoffman

She was young enough not to see a glass as half empty or half full, but as a beautiful object into which anything might be poured. She whispered a bargain, as though her whispering could make it true.
Skylight Confessions – Alice Hoffman

Every time I pick up an unread Hoffman novel I am amazed by her skill with the written word. The way she can form a sentence, twist it into something ethereal and beautiful, it always leaves me breathless. I always feel cleansed and well-read after a Hoffman novel, as though the books I finished leading up to her works were trivial and here is something of worth to spend my time on.

Following four generations of the Moody family who live in the Glass Slipper in suburban Connecticut, Skylight Confessions begins with Arlyn Singer and John Moody as they meet under strange circumstances and form a bond that will affect their children and their grandchildren to come. Under the glass roof and clear walls of their house, secrets are kept and hidden. Mysterious occurrences are swept under the rug, and lives are forever changed by the decisions of others. Following the Moody children into their separate lives as they’re drawn back to the Glass Slipper, Hoffman tells a truly character driven story, so intent are we upon Arlyn and John, and the residents of the glass house that we easily forget there’s a world beyond them.

Skylight Confessions contains the usual hint of magic that Hoffman is known for, but the writing is a little less sad than the previous works I’ve read by her. Or maybe I’m just accustomed to her tone now. The story of the Moody children is beautiful and touching, and in such a short book it’s amazing that we come to know them as well as we do.

Another remarkable Hoffman with all my favorite trademarks, empathetic with a hint of magical realism. All in all, a fabulous book and another great addition to my library. Highly recommended to those who have not read an Alice Hoffman novel yet.

5 stars

Review: By Nightfall by Michael Cunningham

There are, of course, desperate people out there, some of them refugees, some of them criminals; we do as well as we can with these impossible contradictions, these endless snarls of loveliness and murder.
By Nightfall – Michael Cunningham

Michael Cunningham’s latest book since Flesh and Blood (2007) is a literary internal monologue of sorts. A book about that strange and complicated world of Adulthood. A book that exposes our fears through its words, but charmingly underestimates itself.

Told in a close-third-person narrative, we follow Peter Harris and his wife Rebecca as their every day routine is upended by the reappearance of Rebecca’s nomad younger brother, Mizzy. Peter is our main character, and the beauty and the crux of Cunningham’s novel is that for as much as we want to like Peter, he makes it impossible.

We dislike Peter, but we understand him, and eventually, we feel sorry for him; for during all the pages leading up to the end, he’s tried to justify his actions to us, only to be foiled by fate himself. He’s the victim in the end. He fell into waywardness by claiming it all happened by “accident.” Only knowing it was happening made it not an accident, and in the end he is exposed.

We struggle to like Peter and his flaws and issues because for better or worse, he is our information source. We’re in his head, his thoughts, his weaknesses, his poses and postures. We know his script and his stage directions. It becomes difficult to tell if we don’t like him because that’s the way he is, or because Cunningham’s writing is flawed, thereby making the book flawed.  By Nightfall is one long (short) existentialist angst-ridden character-driven novel. Like he writes, Cunningham seems to be “still working something out” with this novel, and that’s the either the brilliance or the downfall of it. There’s a chance that it’s all one big cliche. I can’t tell. By Nightfall is like a work of art that you have to think about and return back to many times in order to understand, but understanding isn’t meant to happen, so it never does.

Did I love it as much as I loved The Hours? In the end, yes I think I did, but for very different reasons.

5 stars

*Update 10/23/2010: After thinking over this book for the last couple days I’ve realized there’s something unsettling about By Nightfall that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s the reasons I say it’s hard to like Peter; it’s the reason I think this novel is either amazing or amazingly cliche. For those of you who loved The Hours and think that’s why you might like to read this one, start it with an open mind. It’s nothing like The Hours, but that doesn’t make it bad. Something has to be said for the fact that it’s still got me thinking about it four days later, afterall.

(I received an advance copy from Barbara on the Bookcase)

Review: Safe from the Sea by Peter Geye

When Noah and his sister were young children their lives were forever changed when their father’s ore ship burned and sunk in the tormented waters of Lake Superior. Though their father survived, much of him was left behind when the ship went down, and Noah’s relationship with his father would never be the same. Decades later, when Noah is grown man with a wife living in Boston, his father becomes ill and Noah faces a tough choice: should he go to his father’s side? The man who shut him out and all but left him so many years ago? Journeying to the northern Minnesota town of his youth, Noah faces more than just his father when he arrives. History comes back as Noah confronts the man who changed so many years ago.

Safe from the Sea is heartbreaking and sad, but also cathartic. Noah must deal with many issues by choosing to face his father again: guilt, blame, and a deeply rooted anger. The bond of family, for better or worse, makes us who we are, and Noah is the man he is today because of his relationship with his father. This is the story of a man facing his past, for both Noah and his father.

It’s hard for me to review this novel because I’m torn in two directions. First is my loyalty to my own past, which also came from Minnesota. Geye’s writing of the north and the harsh winters carries true emotional weight. Likewise, my whole family is also in Minnesota, while I am also in Boston, much like Noah and his family are parted. Though I didn’t leave under the same circumstances and return often, the bond Noah has to Minnesota touched my heart.

The other direction I am pulled in is that of a reviewer analyzing a novel. It’s not because this is Geye’s first novel that I feel why I do, because I read many first novels, but the writing of Safe from the Sea didn’t grab me the way I wish it had. The topics did, the scenes and places, but the dialogue felt forced, and parts of Noah’s relationship with his father and wife seemed contrived. Here is a situation where a man is facing the person who destroyed him and tore him apart. I see the word “anger” but I do not feel it. I see a scene of “longing” and “regret” but do not feel those sensations. There was more true emotion in the description of snow and ice than in the setup of Noah and his relationships, and that’s the one fallback of the book.

3 1/2 stars

(I received an advance copy from the publisher)

Review: Lumby on the Air by Gail Fraser

In 2007 Gail Fraser’s first novel The Lumby Lines was published and the Lumby series was born. This July, the fifth book in the Lumby series will be released. I had the pleasure of reading Lumby on the Air but hadn’t read the earlier books in the series. Gail’s website does specifically say you don’t need to read the books in order, but it’s recommended. I unfortunately had no time to read the first four books before I started Lumby on the Air, but I know now that I will happily read them at some point in the future. Lumby on the Air is delightful fun, an airy book with a family-style feel, just like Lumby itself.

Lumby on the Air centers around Mark and Pam Walker as they are about to host a family reunion in celebration of their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary and vow renewal. As Mark and Pam’s family members converge on the little mountainside town of Lumby, personalities clash and long-standing issues collide, all making for an entertaining and intriguing week in the Walker’s life.

I didn’t quite know what to expect from this book, it’s not something I would normally pick up while perusing bookshelves, but I am so glad I read Lumby on the Air. At times it does lack the finesse I like to see from good writers, but I can overlook  that for it’s better qualities. Lumby on the Air is simply a fun book, a wonderfully light read, about the quirks in every family, and the pulse of a small town set aside from corporate America; a town where neighbors are people who always come to your aid, regardless of how far away they may actually live.

Lumby on the Air was refreshing to read in the way I imagine visiting the actual town of Lumby would refresh me from city-living. It’s nice to be reminded that there can still be places where people help each other instead of living a single-minded existence where we only worry about ourselves. Most of Gail Fraser’s characters come to life on the page, and I feel like I know Pam and Mark and the people of Lumby. Small parts of the book are disconnected; Mark’s sixteen-year-old niece Jessica is somewhat unrealistic because her personality and issues are over the top, but in general, each character was well-formed and amusing. Even the town mascot Hank, a plastic-pink flamingo (well, to be honest, I didn’t get his character, but I have a feeling he’ll be in the other books).

If you’re looking for a nice summer read that you can relax with and not think too hard about, Lumby on the Air is perfect for the beach and bright weather.

4 stars

(I received an advance copy of this book for review)

Review: The Gin Closet by Leslie Jamison

I had a certain beauty, but it wasn’t delicate. You didn’t want to protect me; you wanted to see if I would break. 
The Gin Closet - Leslie Jamison

Sometimes you pick up a book and it ends up being one of those truly amazing pieces of writing, the kind you wish you could have created when you were in your early twenties with college-angst. The kind professors yearn for and literary critics swoon over. Leslie Jamison makes me green with writers-envy. Her ability to take a string of simple words and turn them into a profound sentence blew me away on (what felt like) every page.

On the material surface, The Gin Closet is a novel about two women, one trying to find herself, one trying to survive. When Stella learns she has an estranged aunt she packs up her meaningless New York City existence and moves to the desert to help this broken woman cope with alcoholism and loneliness. Tilly is a mess, she seems to only hurt the people around her and has been that way she since she was young. She hasn’t had an easy life so when Stella turns up Tilly surfaces from her gin-induced waking-coma to think of the life she could possibly have, a life that means something, a life near her son in San Francisco. Together, Stella and Tilly embark on a trip; not a journey to somewhere even though they have a destination, more a sort of movement, fumbling many times along the way.

Told from both women’s first-person points-of-view, Stella is damaged, and Tilly is lost. The dueling narratives juxtapose these women, and give the reader a unique sense of being each of them, as well as watching each of them. This is a novel about family paradigms, but more specifically, female family paradigms: what it means to be a mother, a daughter, or a sister; what we do to our family and what is done to us. Jamison draws a true, poignant portrait of the dichotomy between female relations.

The Gin Closet is about the things we live with and survive through. How we perceive the one body we are given and what we choose to do with, and to, our life. What definitions do we place upon ourself? Anorexic, Alcoholic, Loner, Dreamer? What do we make of the people around us? Stella expects to be used, expects to be abandoned, but she is hardened and does the same to others. Tilly pushes everyone away until she decides to pull them close, but too close.

A beautiful, heartbreaking portrait of the female soul, a novel with an exquisite use of language, Leslie Jamison’s debut is remarkable in its simplistic truth. She doesn’t pander to the audience, she doesn’t mince words, she’s obvious but understated. Like Marilyn Robinson’s Housekeeping, or Alice Munro’s The Beggar Maid, The Gin Closet is unsettling but utterly remarkable.

5 stars

(I received this book from the author for review)

Review: Keeping the Feast by Paula Butturini (TSS)

I may write about the smell of asparagus, the color of polenta, or the taste of figs still warm from the sun, but all of it is a personal shorthand for weighing hunger and love, health and nourishment, secrets and revelations, illness and survival, comfort and celebration, and perhaps above all, the joy and gift of being alive.
Keeping the Feast – Paula Butturini

Paula Butturini’s memoir Keeping the Feast is more than a true story about a couple’s enduring love set among a delicious Italian background full of food and flavor; it’s a story of hope, and the bond of family, and the anguish of a person helplessly afflicted with depression.

Paula met her second husband John in Italy. They married when she was in her late thirties. Both news correspondents, both with strong Italian-family backgrounds, Paula and John were meant for each other, and their love endured trials many of us cannot fathom. In 1989 Paula was beaten senseless by riot police in Czechoslovakia, just weeks before her and John are to be married. Barely surviving her own trauma, it is only a handful of weeks later when John is shot by a sniper in Romania. Undergoing several surgeries, John barely survives. The couple land back in Italy to recoup, only John suffers a devastating depression that threatens to tear their marriage apart. Paula takes refuge in her Italian markets, diving into her family recipes, the ingredients which held her together as a child as she hopes they can hold her family together now.

Keeping the Feast is marketed as a memoir about the tribulations a couple goes through, and how food kept them together. But I can’t help but look beyond the ingrediants, the never-ending succulent lists of Italian market-wares and herbs. Paula’s own mother suffered from depression, it was something Paula herself feared her whole life. To have her husband, the love of her life, afflicted by the same disease, was terrifying and my heart goes out to her. Not everyone understands the crippling devastation that is depression, the way it can leach into your life, but Paula did, she saw it first hand and she vowed to never let it bury her. She dealt with her husband’s depression, first with silent fear, and then with anger and outrage, and even though he suffered it more than once in their life together, he always recovered, and she was always there.

Keeping The Feast is a heartbreaking, beautiful memoir of the strength of family devotion, tied together by the delicious façade of Italian ruins, and the mouth-watering dishes of Italian food. I thank Paula for sharing her story, and hope we can all be as strong.

4 stars (I received an ARC of this book from the publisher)