Review of ADRIFT by Will Dean (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This is an emotionally exhausting psychological drama about domestic abuse.

In 1994 in the Illinois/Indiana/Kentucky area, Drew and Peggy Jenkins and their teenage son Samson live on a rundown canal boat. Drew is a controlling and abusive man who uses isolation, intimidation, and gaslighting to undermine his wife. With no financial resources, Peggy is totally dependent on her husband but desperate to get away with her son. The situation becomes increasingly untenable when Peggy, an aspiring writer like Drew, has a publisher interested in her novel.

The novel alternates between the perspectives of Peggy and Samson so the reader gets to understand them quite well. Peggy loves her son and wants to take him away from Drew’s influence. Samson is bullied at school and dreams of escape as well; his plan is to do well at school so he can go away for further studies. What bothered me about Peggy is that she seems rather naive and oblivious. Samson is being badly bullied at school, but she is “grateful he likes his new school as much as he does.” Even when she witnesses her son being a target of bullies, she makes light of it: “Thank God those kids were only calling him names.” And it never occurs to her how angry and jealous Drew will be when he learns about her success in writing? The logical thing to do would be to keep her novel a secret and to use the money to facilitate an escape.

The character of Drew is problematic. He is adept at psychological manipulation; he lies, denies past events, twists facts, shifts blame, and is dismissive of Peggy’s feelings. He doesn’t want Peggy to have a paying job. He isolates his family by continuously moving the boat further and further away from the town. He even rations food, heat and water. Unfortunately, he becomes almost a cartoon villain because he has no redeeming qualities. Peggy claims he was kind and loving when they first met, but the reader doesn’t see any evidence of these traits; in fact, the book opens with a flashback to 1973 which shows the extent of Drew’s depravity.

A sense of unease permeates the novel from the beginning. The dread only grows further as the boat is moved further away from others who might intervene to help. The small boat (six feet wide and fifty feet long) is claustrophobic; it has no privacy or distance or personal space. The three people are confined and the reader feels restricted as well. The pace is rather slow; in the middle there is just repetition of gaslighting and bullying. Then the resolution is almost deus ex machina where a hero comes to the rescue.

I’m confused about the setting. The novel is set in the U.S. but British terms like kit, instead of sports gear, and biro, instead of pen, are used. Samson eats Cola Cubes, a traditional British candy? Canal boats, especially narrowboats, are common in England. The author is British so why would he choose an American setting for no reason?

This is an unsettling read, but it’s the issues with characterization, a slow pace, and the novel’s climax that bothered me.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of KIN by Tayari Jones (New Release)

 4 Stars

This novel focuses on the lives of two black women growing up in segregated America in the 1950s and 1960s. Vernice (Niecy) and Annie are motherless girls born in Honeysuckle, Louisiana. Niecy is raised by her maternal aunt after a murder-suicide. Annie is abandoned by her mother Hattie Lee shortly after her birth and so is raised by her maternal grandmother.

As girls, they are inseparable, but afterwards they end up on very divergent paths. Niecy attends college in Atlanta where she ends up joining a sisterhood of powerful women. Marriage into an affluent family seems inevitable. Annie is fixated on finding her mother and just before her high school graduation runs away with friends to Memphis to find her. Despite being separated by distance and eventually by their socio-economic status, their connection is not broken.

The two girls are foil characters. Niecy is guided by reason; cautious and sensible, she has a desire for stability. Annie, on the other hand, is more a wild child guided by passion. She is totally single-minded in wanting to find her mother; it’s almost as if she lacks control of her emotions. Despite their differences, their love for and loyalty to each other is unbreakable.

The novel examines the meaning of kin and argues that a kin is not necessarily a blood relation. Annie states, “Me and Niecy weren’t sisters, and nowhere near twins. I didn’t have what she got nor the other way around. What you have the same isn’t what binds you. Hearts grow strings because of what you know that’s the same, what happened to you that’s the same.” What binds the girls is their sense of abandonment because of the loss of their mothers. Though both have other women who step in to raise them, that sense never leaves them. Annie and Niecy’s actions clearly indicate that they regard each other as their closest kin. The poignant ending is indeed a powerful testimony to friendship.

The book is narrated by both girls in alternating chapters so the reader is privy to their complicated internal lives. Both emerge as authentic characters; they’re human with flaws. Both make choices with which I disagreed but understood and so I hoped for the best for both of them.

The novel is primarily about mothers and daughters and about friendship, but it touches on other topics as well. Racism, poverty, sex work, abortion, sexual orientation, and gender roles are examined.

I very much enjoyed this book. It has beautiful prose, engaging characters, and thematic depth.

Note:  I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of HARRIET HATES LEMONADE by Kim McCollum (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This book examines emotional abuse.

Harriet Henderson, 52, lives in Bozeman, Montana. After the death of her husband Les, she continues to live by his rigid rules and judgmental opinions. Her isolated, dreary existence, however, comes to an end when Robyn and Chris Carter and their 12-year-old daughter Audrey move into the neighbourhood. One day Audrey asks Harriet for help because she fears for her mother because of Chris’ violent behaviour. Reluctantly, Harriet steps up and decides to help Robyn find safety for herself and her daughter. When she accompanies Robyn to meetings of a support group for abused women, Harriet begins to re-evaluate her own marriage to Les, a man who’d been controlling and unyielding with lots of rules and consequences and demands.

At the beginning, Harriet is unlikeable. She is adamant that rules are followed; she has frequent clashes with neighbours because she doesn’t hesitate to report people who break the rules of the local homeowners’ association. She lacks social skills and bluntly criticizes others, showing no regard for their feelings. As we learn about her life with Les, we come to understand why she behaves as she does and we feel some sympathy for her. As she starts to reflect on her relationship with Les and to take steps, however tentatively at first, to change her attitude towards and treatment of others, we cannot but cheer for her.

To see the transformation in Harriet is heart-warming, though the narrative arc is predictable. From the beginning I found myself thinking of books like A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman and Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand by Helen Simonson. It is not surprising that Harriet reads Elizabeth Strout’s books featuring Olive Kitteridge.

The book offers a lot of information about emotional abuse. I had never heard of the narcissistic cycle of abuse: love bombing, devaluing, discarding, and hoovering. Harriet’s slow realizations about her own marriage emphasize how victims do not always recognize emotional abuse tactics; Harriet, for instance, thinks of abuse only in terms of violent physical behaviour.

The plot is clunky for a number of reasons. Pace, for instance, is uneven. At the beginning, pace is slow. Then there’s a dramatic event, after which the pace quickens considerably. Some changes, like Harriet’s descent into alcoholic states of near unconsciousness, happen so fast as to be unbelievable. Some events seem illogical. Why would Audrey run away from Isla’s? Audrey would show no interest in the trial? Custody hearings can be scheduled virtually overnight? Then there are gaps which affect narrative flow. Characters are mentioned frequently and then are never mentioned again until needed to move the plot. Harriet’s dog is mentioned repeatedly at first and then he virtually disappears for a time. The same is the case for Tammy.

The novel’s examination of emotional abuse is commendable. Harriet’s journey of discovery, about herself and her marriage, is interesting and well developed. It is the later sections that are weaker; narrative structure is clumsy so the overall impression is underwhelming.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of THE CUT LINE by Carolina Pihelgas (New Release)

 3.5 Stars

This novella is a translation from Estonian.

Liine has left an emotionally abusive 14-year relationship with Tarmo, a man 15 years her senior. She retreats to Tsõriksoo, a virtually abandoned farmstead owned by her family. She spends the summer of self-imposed isolation doing physical work around the property as she reflects on her relationship with Tarmo and her mother.

The book focuses on Liine’s inner life. She experiences a gamut of emotions: grief, self-blame, fear, bitterness, doubt, and anger. She knows she needs time to come to terms with the toll her past has taken on her self-worth and to rebuild her life: “I need to stay beneath the soil, in the ground, here in a safe remote place until I find the strength within me to sprout new shoots.” Yet she worries about what will emerge: “I want to shake my body, throw off the pressure that’s accumulated on my skin, scrub off all the muck. What will be left?” There are steps forward but her journey of growth and healing is not easy or straightforward: “I’m building a new shell, but how long will it take? I’m crackling, I’m expanding, and I’m afraid of getting hurt.”

Though the focus is on Liine, there are repeated references to threats from the outside world. The farm is located next to an ever-expanding NATO base, on the border of Russia, so almost daily she is exposed to the sounds of military exercises suggesting a conflict is looming. There are also several references to climate change and the heatwaves and drought Estonia is already experiencing. All of this creates a claustrophobic atmosphere.

The title is perfect. Liine describes living on the cut line: “I’m swaying on the cut line that separates my previous life from what’s to come.” She wants to linger on the fine line between the past and the future, hoping that she will eventually step firmly into the future. There is hope as, at the end of the summer, she states, “My legs are strong from the groundwork, and I’m not easily bowed.” The title also suggests creating new boundaries as she takes up “more and more space.”

There is no action-packed plot. Very little actually happens. It is a slow-paced, detailed examination of the emotional aftermath of a woman’s escaping a toxic relationship. Though bleak and repetitive, it seems authentic. The ending is predictable.

The prose is lyrical: “Doubt is like a cobweb – very delicate, but when you touch it, it clings to your fingers. Gray and sticky.” The descriptions of nature are especially poetic: “At night I walk to the edge of the forest. The sky’s still glowing the color of sunset, but the forest’s already almost dark. The mosquitoes whine. . . . The shadows of the trees are long and a little lonely. . . . I rustle through the scrub, dry branches crackling under my feet.”

This book is not for everyone. Those who enjoy introspective books will find much to admire.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of THE HOPE by Paul E. Hardisty (New Release)

3.5 Stars 

This is the last of The Forcing Trilogy which begins with The Forcing (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2023/02/review-of-forcing-by-paul-e-hardisty.html) and continues with The Descent (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2024/02/review-of-descent-by-paul-e-hardisty.html).

The novel is set in 2082 in Hobart on the island of Tasmania. It’s a dystopian world where most live miserable, fear-filled lives with no freedom and under constant surveillance. Sixteen-year-old Boo Ashworth, her Uncle Kweku, and their friend Raphael collect whatever books they can find and hide them in a secret library; their goal is to preserve human knowledge in a world where information is heavily censored and people are kept illiterate. Boo, who loves to read, has the ability to instantly memorize entire texts. When the library is destroyed, Boo manages to escape. She sets out to find her family and ends up drawn into a plan to overthrow Eminence, the tyrant who maintains absolute control through the use of AI and threats of extreme punishment.

Interspersed regularly throughout Boo’s narrative are extracts from Kweku’s latest manuscript which documents his interviews with a man “at least partially responsible for more deaths than almost any other person in the history of the human race.” This manuscript, Kweku writes, “would form the third part of our family story spanning three generations, a tale of the perils of unconstrained greed, the cost of cowardice, and, perhaps, the power of hope.”

The title of the book, of course, points to its theme of the power of hope. This message is repeated again and again: “’Even when things are darkest, you can still care, and keep trying. As long as there is hope, there is a chance’” and “’there is always a pathway to a better future, even if you can’t see it. You have to keep hope alive. It’s what keeps you going. But you have to have courage in order to hope. You need to be brave. Because it’s a lot easier not to hope.’”

Though these comments are made to people of the future, there is no doubt that they are also intended to those of us who have “spectacularly wilful blindness.” Events of our time are described: “’The confluence of conditions unlike humanity had ever seen before. The rise of robotics and artificial intelligence, the largest population of human beings the Earth had ever borne, the heaviest burden. Technological prowess unmatched in our history, the ability to edit and extend life, to plunder the planet like never before, to fundamentally alter the climate. The rise of autocrats and strong men, of fundamentalist religions, the use of social media and disinformation to control minds and erode the democratic dream.’”

Reading about the aftermath of the election of President Bragg feels like reading a current newspaper about life after the election of President Trump: “’the civil service at every level in America had been completely dismantled and replaced by a phalanx of Bragg loyalist institutions. Everything – the courts, the senior military brass, local law enforcement, government agencies, the CIA and the FBI – everything was stacked with Bragg’s appointees. . . . Congress became nothing more than a group of old men taking turns holding a rubber stamp. The courts had long since been cowed, rendered impotent. All the so-called guardrails had been removed. . . . Environmental protections of all kinds had been wound back. The National Parks service was dismantled and the major wildlife refuges and areas protected for over a century were opened up for commercial exploitation – lumber, mining, oil and gas. Science agencies that studied climate change, the atmosphere and the oceans were gutted. Foreign aid was suspended. The right to protest was eliminated. Taxes on corporations and the rich who owned them were cut to the point where most billionaires paid nothing.’”

I got goosebumps as I read about Bragg suspending elections, citing the need for stability in a time of crisis, around the time Trump “joked” about cancelling midterm elections. And so many people feel overwhelmed by Trump’s chaotic shock and awe approach to governance: “’People walked around in a permanent state of disbelief. We were literally stunned. Shell-shocked. It had happened so fast, on so many fronts and with such ferocity, that there was simply too much to process.’” Much in this novel is unsettling because of its realistic depiction of our times; the possible consequences hypothesized are certainly not far-fetched.

Boo is an interesting character. Love for and loyalty to family define her. She is intelligent and possesses a maturity beyond her years. She is strong, yet at times is paralyzed by fear. Her relationship with Leo bothered me; because we see little of Leo, for much of the book it is difficult to understand the reason for the strength of her feelings. I understand that her love serves as a motivation and is necessary for the revelation in the last paragraph, a revelation not in the least surprising.

Tension is not lacking. Boo and various family members are often in danger. The scenes in the palace are sometimes difficult to read. The only light-hearted moment is the reference to “a plastic bag full of novels from a publisher called Orenda.”

I’d advise readers to begin with the first two books in the trilogy for a more complete understanding of what happened. There are returning characters and many references to earlier events. Unfortunately, the reader may end up feeling overwhelmed. I understand the importance of imagining a “just and fair future for humanity” and a pathway forward is prescribed, but are there enough people brave enough to hope and fight with love in their hearts?

Review of MISSING SAM by Thrity Umrigar (New Release)

 4 Stars

This novel, set between July 2019 and March 2020, focuses on Aliya (Ali) Mirza and Samantha (Sam) O’Malley, a gay couple living in Cleveland Heights, Ohio.

After an argument with her wife the previous night, Sam goes for a morning run and disappears. Ali reports Sam missing but as a gay and Muslim daughter of Indian immigrants, she can’t escape the suspicion of both acquaintances and strangers. As she contends with guilt and fear, Ali is isolated and vilified online.

The novel alternates between the points of view of Ali and Sam. Besides describing their current circumstances, they reveal their difficult pasts. Ali’s mother died and her father (Abba) remarried a woman who disapproves of homosexuality, so Ali and her father have been estranged. Sam’s abusive father disowned her for the same reason, and her relationship with her mother has been affected by her mother always deferring to her husband.

Pacing is uneven. The first part, focusing on the search for Sam and her fate, is fast-paced and suspenseful. The second half is much slower because it centres on whether/how it’s possible to return to “normal” life after such a trauma.

The emotional lives of both Ali and Sam are clearly described. Both are fearful, though for different reasons. Both feel guilty about their contributions to their often tempestuous relationship. Both feel alone, Sam because no one knows of her whereabouts and Ali because she has little support in face of public scrutiny and mistrust. I sometimes felt very frustrated with Ali: some of her choices seem foolish and only add to her troubles, though I admit to never having been in her situation so perhaps I’d behave similarly. I did appreciate that both undergo some personal growth; their traumatic experiences bring lessons, especially about understanding other people and their behaviours.

This is not a light read. Besides describing trauma and its effects on people, the book highlights racism, homophobia, Islamophobia, and xenophobia. The author clearly suggests that the political climate created during Trump’s first term contributed to these problems in society. The book, however, is a worthwhile read.

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.

Review of DEPARTURE(S) by Julian Barnes (New Release)

 4 Stars

Julian Barnes turned 80 on January 19, the day before this book was published. And it is so very much a Julian Barnes book, one difficult to categorize as either fiction or non-fiction, which the narrator’s friend would undoubtedly dismiss as “’This hybrid stuff you do.’”

The narrator is a writer named Julian Barnes who states that what we are reading will be his last book. He begins with a lengthy discussion of memory, how it works and its fallibility. Promising that there will be a story, or a story within the story, he eventually tells the story of two friends, Jean and Stephen, for whom he played matchmaker, once in the 1960s and again 40 years later. This narrative feels less of a plot and more a device for examining love. The latter part of the book is a reflection of the narrator’s life (his writing career, the deaths of his wife and friends, his diagnosis with blood cancer, the ravishes of aging, and his eventual death). The book closes with a farewell to his readers.

I’ve really liked several of Barnes’ novels and this one was no exception. I enjoyed reading his thoughts about memory, love, grief, and death. Perhaps because I am only a decade away from his age, his reflections resonated with me. I especially liked his way of accepting life’s vicissitudes and one’s inevitable death: it’s just the universe doing its stuff.

At the end, the narrator addresses the reader directly and imagines the writer and reader sitting side by side at a cafe, watching and musing at the lives passing by. Throughout, the narrator speaks in a relaxed voice as if indeed the reader and writer are having a conversation – though he admits to seldom catching the reader’s mutterings since he imagines the reader sitting on his deaf side. As such conversations between companions do, this one meanders with digressions touching on both serious and trivial topics.

The serious topics outnumber the inconsequential, but there are definite touches of humour. The discussions about Jimmy, a Jack Russell, are often hilarious. I chuckled at Julian’s description of his triage fantasy: imagining that during Covid, he’d be dismissed as an old geezer relegated to end-of-life care until someone notices his lapel badge announcing his winning of the Booker Prize. And I loved his jabs at Trump, commenting it would be appropriate if he’d sworn on a copy of the Wicked Bible which commands “Thou shalt commit adultery.”

The title is perfect. The narrator has experienced the departure of memories, has had some people in his life leave temporarily and some die, and he gives more than passing thought to his own departure from life. And is he saying goodbye to his writing career? The narrator emphasizes how writers lie and don’t keep promises, like the one he made to Jean and Stephen to never write about them. So should we take Barnes’s statement, about this being his last book, at face value?

I hope this is not his last book, but if it is, it is a good one to mark the end of his career. And though I won’t stop looking at “the many and varied expressions of life,” I’ll miss his “sturdy presence” and “conversational mutterings.”

Note: I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.