An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson | Book Review

Rating: ★★★

An Enchantment of Ravens is disappointingly dull – even more disappointing because of its gorgeous cover. How can such a beautiful book be so… blah?

Goodreads Synopsis: A skilled painter must stand up to the ancient power of the faerie courts—even as she falls in love with a faerie prince—in this gorgeous debut novel.

Isobel is a prodigy portrait artist with a dangerous set of clients: the sinister fair folk, immortal creatures who cannot bake bread, weave cloth, or put a pen to paper without crumbling to dust. They crave human Craft with a terrible thirst, and Isobel’s paintings are highly prized. But when she receives her first royal patron—Rook, the autumn prince—she makes a terrible mistake. She paints mortal sorrow in his eyes—a weakness that could cost him his life.

Furious and devastated, Rook spirits her away to the autumnlands to stand trial for her crime. Waylaid by the Wild Hunt’s ghostly hounds, the tainted influence of the Alder King, and hideous monsters risen from barrow mounds, Isobel and Rook depend on one another for survival. Their alliance blossoms into trust, then love—and that love violates the fair folks’ ruthless laws. Now both of their lives are forfeit, unless Isobel can use her skill as an artist to fight the fairy courts. Because secretly, her Craft represents a threat the fair folk have never faced in all the millennia of their unchanging lives: for the first time, her portraits have the power to make them feel.

BookishBlond Reviews: Don’t get me wrong; it’s not a bad book. The writing is good, and the plot is fine. Younger readers (or anyone new to the YA fantasy genre) may very well enjoy it. And if YA fantasy is your genre and you love and accept the tropes, you may love it. But it’s such an uninspired rehashing of every exhausted trope… I was bored to death. Especially since a full 100 pages are spent wandering through the woods. Where nothing happens.

And I’m convinced its origins were as a ACOTAR fanfic. Oh, let me count the ways!
-MC is an artist/painter
-Raised by single adult
-With no mom & two sisters
-Sexy fae/fair folk manboy
-Who is allegedly verrry powerful but is actually pretty snivelly (when he’s not brooding)
-Steals her away to the faerie world
-Made up of season-themed faerie courts/kingdoms/whatever
-Tension between staying in the human world and joining the (eternal) faerie world
-(I’ll add more as I remember)

I read this book because (1) the cover and (2) the reviews for Rogerson’s new book Sorcery of Thorns are incredible. I like to read things in order so I had to check this book out first before reading the new one even though they’re both standalones. An Enchantment of Ravens is a first novel, so I’m willing to give it the benefit of the doubt – Rogerson shows us her imagination and her writing skills and I’m hopeful that she comes into her own in her next book.

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We Were Liars by E. Lockhart | Book Review

Rating: ★★

Ugh, nope. This book is so dull and takes itself waaaaay too seriously.

Goodreads Synopsis: 

A beautiful and distinguished family.
A private island.
A brilliant, damaged girl; a passionate, political boy.
A group of four friends—the Liars—whose friendship turns destructive.
A revolution. An accident. A secret.
Lies upon lies.
True love.
The truth.

We Were Liars is a modern, sophisticated suspense novel from New York Times bestselling author, National Book Award finalist, and Printz Award honoree E. Lockhart.

Read it.

And if anyone asks you how it ends, just LIE.

BookishBlond Review:

I found this book in my childhood bedroom while visiting my parents. E. Lockhart’s Ruby Oliver books (The Boyfriend List and its sequels) were some of my favorite books when I was in late middle school/early high school and I was impressed that We Were Liarsreceived high praise, including a Goodreads Choice Award. My GR friends’ mediocre reviews made me wary, but considering my fond memories of Lockhart’s books, I was willing to give it a try.

Maybe I should have left it on the shelf. After all, Lockhart did write a book about a girl who transforms into a fly just so she can gawk over penises (which I think she charmingly called “gherkins”) in the boys’ locker room.

From the first page, Lockhart tells you there’s a huuuuuge secret in the book, which puts the reader on notice that there is a twist coming up. The problem with knowing there’s a twist is that you obviouslyexpect a twist and you end up guessing what it is. If you’ve read YA “thriller”-type books before, it’s not very difficult to guess Lockhart’s game. Booooring.

Without the magic of the plot to keep you reading, what’s left? Not the characters. This is a book about whiny rich kids on their family’s private island. I can’t remember any of their names, including the MC, but I can remember how snooty and pretentious the lot of them are. I was ready to throw them all overboard.

Lockhart’s social commentary efforts repeatedly fall flat. She’s trying to do a Great Gatsby thing here, but none of it works. There’s nothing likable or redeeming about the characters, except, I suppose, for MC’s amnesia, which honestly felt like manipulation to sympathize with her plight.

Younger readers who haven’t read a book like this before might enjoy it but I hated this book from the beginning and don’t think I would recommend it to anyone. It’s baffling that it earned a Goodreads Choice award because I don’t think it’s anything particularly special.

Crazy Sexy Diet by Kris Carr | Book Review

Rating: ★★

I must preface this review by saying that I have been vegan for six years and I fully support books encouraging Americans to eat more fruits and vegetables and eventually transition to a vegan diet. On that front Carr’s goal is laudable and I can see this book being a great introductory resource for people unfamiliar with a vegan diet. However I found this book overall to be problematic and would not recommend it over the plethora of vegan health and fitness books available. 

Crazy Sexy Diet reads like a Cosmo article. The writing is far from endearing; Carr’s cutesy “girlfriend” tone quickly becomes irritating, making finishing this book a chore. This book is clearly targeted at women (upper-middle class white women, to be exact) but Carr’s tone is patronizing, isolating readers who do not fit her intended audience.

Educating and encouraging others to go vegan is beneficial to their health, animal welfare, and the environment, but there are good and bad ways to go about this. Readers unfamiliar with veganism are likely to be overwhelmed by Carr’s lifestyle recommendations, which are expensive and unsustainable. She wants you to invest in a blender, juicer, water filter, supplements, yoga classes, and a meditation room on top of the large amounts of (organic) fresh produce necessary to follow her plan. For Americans privileged enough to be able to afford these luxuries, her plan may be achievable, but the majority of us cannot afford these luxuries.

This book is full of junk science. Eating more fruits and vegetables (organic or not) is a goal in itself: countless studies have shown the many health benefits of eating these foods. Carr, however, advocates for eating veggies to achieve a balanced pH. According to Carr, eating alkaline food like fruits and vegetables leads to better health. But there is little scientific evidence to support these claims. Some may see improved health outcomes because they are eating more fruits and vegetables, not because of any effect on blood pH. Focusing on your food’s pH is time consuming and complicated and may turn people away from following this diet entirely.

The anecdotal “success stories” featured at the end of every chapter make it clear that following Carr’s plan will replace the need to take prescription drugs. It is wildly irresponsible to encourage people to stop taking their medications without their doctor’s knowledge or advice. Some conditions like diabetes may be reversible when following a vegan diet but there is little evidence that other chronic conditions can be “cured” this way. Carr’s recommendations to see a naturopath are irresponsible as well – naturopaths are not medical doctors and are not qualified to treat chronic diseases.

Additionally, I had issues with a few miscellaneous aspects of this book. At least twice in the book, Carr lists autism as a preventable disease caused by poor diet. This claim is not supported by any evidence and is incredibly offensive and ignorant. Carr (unsurprisingly) advocates for the use of essential oils, specifically endorsing Young Living Oils as a favored manufacturer. This company is a known MLM and it makes me uncomfortable that she would support an industry that adversely impacts so many people. For a “diet” book, Crazy Sexy Diet contains shockingly few actual recipes. The few recipes included in the book are very similar, providing little variety.

It is wonderful to see so many vegan health and diet books on the market. But if you are interested in learning more about the many health and environmental benefits of going vegan, please consider the many (much) better books that are supported by actual science.

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All the Rage by Courtney Summers | Book Review

Rating: ★★★

All the Rage is the… third?… book about rape culture I’ve read so far in 2019. In some ways, it’s the best of those books. Summers knows how to pack an emotional punch that will leave you spinning. But in other ways it’s seriously lacking. This book is praised as being an must-read about rape culture but if not for the marketing I wouldn’t have put it in that category at all.

Goodreads Synopsis: The sheriff’s son, Kellan Turner, is not the golden boy everyone thinks he is, and Romy Grey knows that for a fact. Because no one wants to believe a girl from the wrong side of town, the truth about him has cost her everything—friends, family, and her community. Branded a liar and bullied relentlessly by a group of kids she used to hang out with, Romy’s only refuge is the diner where she works outside of town. No one knows her name or her past there; she can finally be anonymous. But when a girl with ties to both Romy and Kellan goes missing after a party, and news of him assaulting another girl in a town close by gets out, Romy must decide whether she wants to fight or carry the burden of knowing more girls could get hurt if she doesn’t speak up. Nobody believed her the first time—and they certainly won’t now — but the cost of her silence might be more than she can bear.　

BookishBlond Reviews: 

I love Courtney Summers’ writing. I often lack an emotional connection to characters/books but Summers is an author that knows how to make you feel. This book will make your heart ache. I was so emotionally invested in Romy’s story that it hurt. Which is why I’m giving this book three stars instead of two.

But.

I don’t appreciate being emotionally manipulated by books.

Okay, just look at the first sentence of the Goodreads synopsis: “The sheriff’s son, Kellan Turner, is not the golden boy everyone thinks he is, and Romy Grey knows that for a fact.” Read the synopsis and you think you’re getting a book about a rape survivor, kind of like Speak. Many reviews even compare this book (favorably) with Speak. But it’s nothing like that.

First of all, Kellan Turner, the rapist, is not even a character in this book. His name is literally only mentioned two or three times. He is not a character in this book. Few things annoy me more than dishonest marketing about books, and this feels so dishonest. Furthermore, rape is barely even mentioned in this book. Romy never talks about being raped. She never “heals” or “comes to terms” or whatever it was she was supposed to do. Romy struggles with bullying and managing her tormentors, not the aftermath of rape.

This book is a murder mystery. I feel emotionally manipulated because (1) the book is marketed as being about rape culture/rape survivors and (2) Romy’s identity as a rape survivor is used to make readers feel sorry for Romy and to justify her actions.

This book was all emotion and seriously lacking in characters and plot.

Even with all the feels, I did not like Romy as a character. She’s bitter and mean, and if not for being a rape survivor, her behavior wouldn’t make any sense at all. I understand that a rape survivor may feel numb, but Romy never talks about her emotions or about the rape. The reader is supposed to keep this background knowledge in mind, but it comes from the book’s description, not from Romy. There is this weird emotional disconnect where Romy is being mean to her mom or to her love interest, and the reader is supposed to make the connection that Romy is only being awful because of the rape, but the rape is never even discussed? It’s bizarre.

Romy aside, none of the other characters here did anything for me. I did really like Romy’s mom and stepdad, but everyone else was lacking. I didn’t understand why the love interest was so into Romy, especially since she was so mean to him. Romy’s (ex)friend, Penny, doesn’t feel like a real character. Her disappearance drives the book’s main plot line, but we don’t know anything about her. The mean girls at school who bully Romy are more non-characters. Who were they?

Summers had so many opportunities to take a unique stance on rape culture, but she never explored the topic. She stuck with the same tropes we see in other books that explore it – the outsider/loner girl who isn’t believed and the popular rapist who seemingly gets away with it. I was intrigued by a few things – Romy and Penny’s emails, the lipstick/nail polish, the rapist coming back to town… but Summers never goes deeper than the surface.

I also didn’t really like Summers playing around with the timeline. I think the story would have been better if told linearly instead of jumping around so much. The book doesn’t make sense at times.

And the ending? What? Everything is just… wrapped up nicely? Just like that??

This feels more like a rant than a book review, but I just had to get that off my chest. I read this book in one sitting – it’s an enjoyable read – but I’m still pissed off about the marketing.

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On Immunity: An Inoculation by Eula Biss | Book Review

Rating: ★★

This isn’t a science book. It’s not a book about healthcare. It’s not even a book about vaccination. Instead, On Immunity is a confusing collection of essays with no cohesive theme. Biss cycles between motherhood and literary analysis and never brings it all together.

Goodreads Synopsis:

Upon becoming a new mother, Eula Biss addresses a chronic condition of fear–fear of the government, the medical establishment, and what is in your child’s air, food, mattress, medicine, and vaccines. She finds that you cannot immunize your child, or yourself, from the world.

In this bold, fascinating book, Biss investigates the metaphors and myths surrounding our conception of immunity and its implications for the individual and the social body. As she hears more and more fears about vaccines, Biss researches what they mean for her own child, her immediate community, America, and the world, both historically and in the present moment. She extends a conversation with other mothers to meditations on Voltaire’s Candide, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, Susan Sontag’s AIDS and Its Metaphors, and beyond.

BookishBlond Reviews:

With the measles outbreak splashed across every newspaper, I picked up a copy of On Immunity, aiming to educate myself on vaccination, and expecting a primer on vaccines and vaccine culture. I was disappointed to discover that this book is an unorganized collection of vague musing about Biss’ decision to vaccinate her son, and her obsession with Stoker’s Dracula.

I’m not sure what this book is, and I don’t think Biss is, either. It’s definitely not a comprehensive history of vaccination. I’m not even convinced that Biss is pro-vaccine. She treats the anti-vaccine movement like a valid philosophy, and that’s a dangerous approach. The truth is, anti-vaxxers are not parents with valid concerns. They spread misinformation, information known to be false, and their message results in low vaccination rates that put vulnerable members of the population at risk. It’s not okay. From all her “research,” I expected more from Biss.

And was this a book about vaccination, or a book about Dracula? I’m convinced that Biss had an idea for a thesis about medicine as the modern Dracula, and it never got approved, so she turned it into a book. She practically mentions Dracula on every page. It quickly became annoying, then infuriating. The constant discussion of the book wasn’t relevant to Biss’ larger goal to discuss the sociology of vaccines. Her editor should have taken most of that out.

Parts of this book struck me as insightful, specifically where Biss highlighted the contrast between mothers and doctors, and how the disconnect can impact vaccination rates, which is why I’m giving it two stars instead of one. I would never recommend this book to anyone.

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In an Absent Dream by Seanan McGuire | Book Review

Rating: ★★★★★

This book has been sitting on my nightstand for months. I devoured the first two books in this series, and quickly added them to my list of favorites, but I was hesitant about reading this latest installment. Why? The third Wayward Children book, Beneath the Sugar Sky, was a huuuuuuge disappointment. It lacked the magic of the first two books. Reading that book and discovering it to be nothing like the first two books was profoundly disappointing, and I kept putting off reading this book because I was worried that it would be similarly disappointing.

Was I ever wrong.

In an Absent Dream may very well be my new favorite book in the series (or perhaps my second favorite book, after Every Heart a Doorway). McGuire is back. This book is every bit as magical and wonderful and beautiful as her first Wayward Children books. I know a lot of people were disappointed with Beneath the Sugar Sky, but please, don’t let that stop you from reading In an Absent Dream. Trust me!

Goodreads Synopsis: 

This fourth entry and prequel tells the story of Lundy, a very serious young girl who would rather study and dream than become a respectable housewife and live up to the expectations of the world around her. As well she should.

When she finds a doorway to a world founded on logic and reason, riddles and lies, she thinks she’s found her paradise. Alas, everything costs at the goblin market, and when her time there is drawing to a close, she makes the kind of bargain that never plays out well.

BookishBlond Reviews:

This book is about Lundy, the childlike counselor/right-hand man to the school’s headmaster, who was a supporting character in the first book. In the first book, we learn that she ages very slowly and backward, kind of like Benjamin Button. In this book, we learn the story behind her anti-aging, but the book isn’t simply telling that one story. Lundy was a kid just like the other Wayward Children, who stumbled down a doorway into a Wonderland tailored just for her. In an Absent Dream tells Lundy’s story – who she was as a child, what world drew her in and why, and, of course, why she couldn’t stay, and where she went afterward.

This book was much more of an emotional read for me than the earlier installments in the series (especially Beneath the Sugar Sky), which are more whimsical. In an Absent Dream is a true coming-of-age story. I had SO MANY FEELINGS after finishing this book, and I’m still not entirely recovered.

“Of such commonplace contradictions are weapons made. Katherine Lundy walked in the world. That was quite enough to set everything else into motion.”

I felt more of a connection with Lundy than I have with any other Wayward Children. At first, her character seems a little bit bland – she’s the principal’s daughter, a bookworm, a rule follower. Quiet. She definitely isn’t as distinct as some of McGuire’s other heroes, but that’s exactly what sets her apart. She is a normal girl, perhaps a bit of a loner, living in the 1960s, with a normal family. I was drawn to her quiet bookishness. Each of McGuire’s Wayward Children books feature a different type of child who ends up in a (very) different type of world. Following my connection with Lundy, I feel like if I opened one of McGuire’s doors, it would lead me to a world very similar to Lundy’s Goblin Market.

I looooooved the Goblin Market. It’s different from McGuire’s other worlds in that children are able to freely travel back and forth between their home world and through the Doorway to this one, at least until their 18th birthday. McGuire’s other worlds aren’t so readily accessible, and it’s interesting to compare Lundy’s experience with the experiences of the other Wayward Children, who only went down the doorway once and then spent years trying to find it again. But… this feature doesn’t work out so well for Lundy, which absolutely broke my heart. The flexibility of traveling to this world made Lundy’s journey less ominous and less urgent than the journeys in the other books, where the children only get that one chance to decide whether to stay forever or to go home. McGuire is tricky, though – she lulls us into a false sense of security then hits us with a sucker punch to the heart. It hurts so good.

The Goblin Market is definitely one of my favorite worlds, right up there with the world the twins went to in Down Among the Sticks and Bones. There are centaurs, birds, children turning into birds, and a complex yet intuitive system of rules. I love rules (which is maybe why I went to law school), so this world really resonated with me. And the characters from this world! The Archivist, who I imagine as an ancient librarian, guides Lundy like Virgil leading Dante through the Inferno. And, of course, Moon. Lundy doesn’t have any friends in her home world, but she meets Moon, her best friend, at the Goblin Market. Their friendship was one of my favorite things about this book.

I love this book so much. It is absolutely one of my favorite reads of 2019. Please, please, please… read this book. If you haven’t read the rest of the series, start here.

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Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson | Book Review

Rating: ★★★

I somehow escaped elementary/middle school without ever reading this book. Ever since the film came out a few years ago, I have felt like the only person who hasn’t crossed the Bridge to Terabithia. I’m trying to read more books that I should have read already, and at under 200 pages, this book was a great place to start tackling that goal.

Everybody has that book (or books!) that they just don’t like, even though everybody else seems to love it. For me, Bridge to Terabithia is one of those books. I just don’t get it. I do not understand the hype behind this book. Yes, yes, I’m 26, not 12, but I’m pretty sure this book would have bored me when I was the age of the intended reader.

Goodreads Synopsis: 

Jess Aarons’ greatest ambition is to be the fastest runner in his grade. He’s been practicing all summer and can’t wait to see his classmates’ faces when he beats them all. But on the first day of school, a new girl boldly crosses over to the boys’ side and outruns everyone.

That’s not a very promising beginning for a friendship, but Jess and Leslie Burke become inseparable. Together they create Terabithia, a magical kingdom in the woods where the two of them reign as king and queen, and their imaginations set the only limits.

BookishBlond Reviews:

For some reason, I thought this book was fantasy (it’s even shelved as “fantasy” on Goodreads!), but it’s not. Yes, this book is about children who invent a magical imaginary world, but Paterson never actually shows us what Terabithia looks like. At least, not really. It’s possible I missed those passages, but after finishing the book, all I know about Terabithia is that it has a queen. Paterson presents Terabithia as an imaginary world Jess and Leslie escape to while playing in the woods, but she doesn’t flesh it out. Hearing “Narnia” evokes images of satyrs and talking animals, but “Terabithia” doesn’t bring anything to mind. I was expecting something Narnia-esque, and I was profoundly disappointed that Paterson didn’t deliver.

Similarly, I was disappointed in the characters. Jess was boring and vaguely irritating. His sisters and his relationship with them was nothing special… it must have been mandatory to write sibling relationships like that in the 1970s. I did like Leslie, though. She was a little badass and her parents seemed pretty cool, too. I wish we got more of them. But when I compare Paterson’s characters with other “classic” children’s books like the Narnia series, and L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time books, these characters are so flat.

I’m going to discuss some spoilers in the next paragraph, so if you’re one of the rare people (like me!) who haven’t read the book, you might want to stop reading here!

Leslie’s death seemed so pointless. In the Afterward, Paterson explains that she was inspired to write the book after her son lost a childhood friend, which explains why Leslie had to die more than anything else. I really wish I had read the Afterward before diving into the book; I would probably be less disappointed if I had. Paterson wasn’t writing her own version of Narnia. She was writing about her son’s experience coping with the loss of her friend. So Leslie had to die because Jess/Paterson’s son needed to come to terms with her death. But without that context, her sudden death is senseless. I still mostly feel like her death was senseless, but I did appreciate Jess’s emotional development afterwards. Really, the only redeeming thing about Jess’s character is how he deals with losing his friend, which he had betterdo well, since that’s the whole point of the book. In sum, Leslie’s death was a plot device that drove the book. I don’t like it, but it is what it is.

I really didn’t care for this book. It’s boring, and there’s a disconnect between how the book is portrayed and how it actually is. I understand that I’m reading the book as an adult, but there are so many wonderful children’s books available that are both magical and emotionally satisfying that I don’t think my age is the problem here. I’m disappointed in Bridge to Terabithia, but I didn’t hate it, so I’ll give it 3 stars.

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The Perfect Nanny by Leila Slimani | Book Review

Rating: ★★

What a disappointment.

I picked this book up after hearing it praised by the New York Times Book Review podcast as one of the best books of 2018. It had been on my TBR – albeit briefly – before that, but I think I deleted it because of the very low ratings on Amazon, of all places. I really wish I had listened and not wasted my time on this one. It’s barely 200 pages, but it took me over a month to finally finish reading it. Yes, it’s true that I was busy with school and didn’t have as much time to read, but I also just didn’t care about the story. At all.

Goodreads Synopsis: When Myriam decides to return to work as a lawyer after having children, she and her husband look for the perfect nanny for their son and daughter. They never dreamed they would find Louise: a quiet, polite, devoted woman who sings to the children, cleans the family’s chic Paris apartment, stays late without complaint, and hosts enviable kiddie parties. But as the couple and the nanny become more dependent on one another, jealousy, resentment, and suspicions mount, shattering the idyllic tableau. Building tension with every page, The Perfect Nanny is a compulsive, riveting, bravely observed exploration of power, class, race, domesticity, motherhood, and madness—and the American debut of an immensely talented writer.

BookishBlond Reviews:

I think part of the reason why I didn’t really care for this book is the fact that it’s a translation. I have nothing against translated books – some of my favorite books are translated into English – but it seems like something was lost in translation here. The sentences were choppy and somewhat awkward. This wasn’t an easy book to just sit down and read – it’s a “thriller,” but the story doesn’t flow, and it really affected my overall enjoyment of the book and my desire to actually sit down and read it. Maybe I’m mis-attributing the sentence structure to the translator, or maybe it was done purposefully to capture the original French, but something was missing.

The Perfect Nanny opens with a gruesome murder scene – two small children are dead, and their corpses are being zipped into body bags. Ugh. We know from the first chapter who has murdered them – their nanny – but not why she murdered them. Unfortunately, 200 pages later, I’m still not exactly clear as to the why. The nanny, Louise, barely has a voice, and her character is pieced together episodically. Supplementary anecdotes are provided by a few people from her past, but even these chapters didn’t flesh out Louise’s character. I just don’t think Slimani wrote enough to successfully explain why Louise the creepy nanny murdered her two wards, children she doted over for most of the book. There wasn’t just enough there. Maybe Slimani wants you to read between the lines, and make a connection between Louise’s background, her increasingly strange behavior, and the murders, but I feel like that’s asking a lot of readers when the book is only 200 pages. There’s just not enough to work with.

This book is definitely really creepy, but I just don’t get the why. Not just why the murders happened, but what Slimani was trying to do in the first place. It only takes a few hours to read The Perfect Nanny, but those are hours I wish I’d spent doing something else.

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Where Things Come Back by John Corey Whaley | Book Review

Rating: ★★★★

Does John Corey Whaley know how to write!

Goodreads Synopsis:

Winner of the 2012 Michael L. Printz and William C. Morris Awards, this poignant and hilarious story of loss and redemption “explores the process of grief, second chances, and even the meaning of life.” Kirkus Reviews

In the remarkable, bizarre, and heart-wrenching summer before Cullen Witter’s senior year of high school, everything he thinks he understands about his small and painfully dull Arkansas town vanishes. His cousin overdoses; his town becomes absurdly obsessed with the alleged reappearance of an extinct woodpecker; and, most troubling of all, his sensitive, gifted fifteen-year-old brother, Gabriel, suddenly and inexplicably disappears.

As Cullen navigates a summer of finding and losing love, holding his fragile family together, and muddling his way into adulthood, a young, disillusioned missionary in Africa searches for meaning wherever he can find it. And when those two stories collide, a surprising and harrowing climax emerges that is tinged with melancholy and regret, comedy and absurdity, and above all, hope.

BookishBlond Reviews:

This book is such a treat to read, primarily because of Whaley’s masterful plot construction. The plot is split – one story follows Cullen Witter as he navigates the summer between his junior and senior year of high school, following his cousin’s fatal overdose and his younger brother’s disappearance. The second story first follows a young missionary in Africa, whose eventual return to the States triggers a series of events that’s larger than his own story. At first, the two plotlines seem completely unrelated, but when Whaley does end up bringing them together… ooooohh boy. I didn’t predict it at all. Nothing surprises me, but the conclusion of Where Things Come Backmade my jaw drop in the best way.

Even so, I’m torn between giving this book three and four stars. In addition to the plot construction, I think the strongest aspect of this book is the small-town setting. Cullen’s story is set in rural Arkansas, but it really could be any small American town. The poverty and the hopelessness will be familiar to anyone who has lived in a small town. Cullen’s resignation that he, like his parents, will be stuck in his hometown forever rang true.

But I felt like Whaley’s characters were weak. Cullen reminded me too much of John Green’s typical hero – awkward, melancholy, sensitive, and very irritating. Cullen has an annoying habit of breaking into third person, i.e., “when one is doing X, he will think Y…” that is absolutely infuriating, especially when the technique is used in every chapter. Cullen also imagines those around him as zombies, which I presume is a coping mechanism after going through the trauma of a family member’s death and another’s disappearance. I guess I don’t mind this, but it was annoying to read so many zombie passages, especially since they weren’t exactly framed as separate occurrences from Cullen’s real life. Maybe Whaley was going for some magical realism?

The other characters – especially the girls – are beginning to bleed together in my memory. Not only does everyone have a similar name, but their voices are similar as well.

I did enjoy this book’s quirks – The Book of Enoch, a holy book not included in the Christian Bible, is a prominent feature. I loved that. I also enjoyed the mythology of the Lazarus woodpecker. These topics lurk in the background of the book’s plot, and it’s just delightful. They’re unique, and I really appreciate Whaley’s decision to introduce them.

Overall, I am impressed with this book as a debut novel. Whaley knows how to construct a plot! But his characters could use some work. I didn’t feel emotionally connected to any of his characters, but I have no doubt that his characterization will improve as he continues to write. I will definitely be reading more of his novels in the future!

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The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides | Book Review

Rating: ★★

This book just goes to show that you should always trust your instincts!

When I first read the synopsis, I was unimpressed. But then I saw the praise: Blake Crouch and Douglas Preston had very, very good things to say about The Silent Patient. So I decided to give it a try. Never again.

Goodreads Synopsis:

Alicia Berenson’s life is seemingly perfect. A famous painter married to an in-demand fashion photographer, she lives in a grand house with big windows overlooking a park in one of London’s most desirable areas. One evening her husband Gabriel returns home late from a fashion shoot, and Alicia shoots him five times in the face, and then never speaks another word.

Alicia’s refusal to talk, or give any kind of explanation, turns a domestic tragedy into something far grander, a mystery that captures the public imagination and casts Alicia into notoriety. The price of her art skyrockets, and she, the silent patient, is hidden away from the tabloids and spotlight at the Grove, a secure forensic unit in North London.

Theo Faber is a criminal psychotherapist who has waited a long time for the opportunity to work with Alicia. His determination to get her to talk and unravel the mystery of why she shot her husband takes him down a twisting path into his own motivations—a search for the truth that threatens to consume him….

Everything about this book is mediocre. Flat. The writing, the plot, the characters. I’m honestly flabbergasted at the sheer number of 5-star reviews praising this book for its “twist” and for being “unputdownable.” I was bored with this book from the beginning, and I ultimately had to force myself to finish it. The plot is nothing new – we have a psychologist and his patient, a now notorious artist who has spent the last six years locked up in a mental institution after killing her husband. Insanity defense, of course. Even though the psychologist has just started working there he is instantly able to get on her case, and spends all his time obsessing over her and tracking down people she knew before she was locked up (which would never happen – this violates so many ethical rules).

Much of the book takes place in the mental hospital, but it was like Michaelides was writing from what he had seen in movies, and not from research about how a mental hospital actually operates. One of the reasons I disliked the book so much was how unrealistic the hospital was – all of the staff act incredibly unethically (and I mean Ethical Rules unethically, not morally unethically), the psychologist basically takes over the place on the first day – even dictating how the actual medical doctors should treat patients, and the patients have waaaaay too much freedom.

I can’t even remember the psychologist’s name. There was absolutely nothing interesting about him as a character. Much of the plot focuses around two of his relationships – with his patient Alicia, and with his wife. There was just no substance to either of these relationships. In one passage he’ll be talking about how passionate he is about his wife, and describing all these intense feelings he has, but that text is juxtaposed to him not doing anything to show us how he feels. The strong emotional language next to physical inaction is very awkward to read. It doesn’t match up. He’s also supposedly a brilliant psychologist – he does, after all, somehow get a patient who has been practically catatonic for six years to respond to his fantastic therapy – but at the same time, he’s baffled by his interactions with people outside the hospital, and doesn’t seem to understand basic human emotions. All of this really stuck out to me as I was reading. I do believe that this could be fixed; hopefully Michaelides’ writing improves as he continues to write.

Alicia, the Silent Patient herself, was also uninteresting. She was supposedly a celebrated artist before she was committed, but her paintings sound so boring. A picture of her husband as Jesus on the cross? Yawn. The plot is driven by the psychologist investigating the mystery behind what happened on the day Alicia killed her husband, but I just didn’t care. It’s difficult to make a reader care about a character who doesn’t talk or have any internal dialogue. Michaelides tries to overcome this by giving Alicia a voice in some diary entries, but it didn’t work for me because there weren’t enough diary entries to flesh out her character. They also conveniently provided insight into whatever the psychologist was investigating at the time, so they functioned more to flesh out his story rather than to give Alicia a story. But I guess this book is about the psychologist, not about Alicia. Which is a shame, because I might have liked it more if we got to know her better.

Obviously, I am very much in the minority here. Maybe I just love to hate on popular books. If you like thrillers, you might very well like this one. But everything about this book fell flat for me, and I’m very disappointed in that “twist” ending. I definitely will listen to my gut reaction about books in the future!