Review of THE LONELINESS OF SONIA AND SUNNY by Kiran Desai

 4 Stars

This 670-page tome was shortlisted for the 2025 Booker Prize and I kept coming across rave reviews so thought I’d read it. It’s a novel of ideas that demands the reader to engage patiently.

Sonia Shah, an Indian student in Vermont, hopes to become a writer. Lonely, she becomes easy prey for Ilan de Toorjen Foss, an arrogant, totally self-obsessed artist who is a manipulator and abuser. Sonia eventually escapes but leaves behind an amulet, a treasured gift from her grandfather. In Delhi meanwhile, her father tries to arrange a marriage for Sonia with the grandson of a friend.

The intended, Sunny Bhatia, is an aspiring journalist in New York living with a white girlfriend, a fact he hides from his widowed, class-obsessed mother Babita. He returns to India for a visit and, by chance, meets Sonia after they’ve each rejected their families’ attempts at an arranged marriage. The rest of the novel focuses on their relationship which is beset with obstacles. Both of them must also figure out their own paths in life before setting out on one together.

As the title clearly indicates, loneliness is a major theme. Both protagonists experience isolation living in the U.S. In fact, both feel that isolation is almost a requirement for success in the West which their families desperately want for them. India places more value on family while the West emphasizes individualism. For instance, Sonia and Sunny list all the tasks that people are expected to do for themselves. Sonia and Sonny are also looking for a home, a place where they feel they belong. They feel displaced from their home country, family and culture, but do not feel accepted in the U.S. either. Of course living with others does not guarantee that loneliness will be lacking; Sonia’s mother, for example, leaves an oppressive marriage and escapes to an isolated cottage.

Sonia and Sunny do not meet until a third into the novel. The first part concentrates on Sunny’s relationship with Ulla and Sonia’s, with the older artist. It is the latter that particularly interested me. Ilan is a predatory narcissist, a totally despicable person who takes possession of Sonia’s life. He suppresses her literary ambitions and leaves her empty and haunted. She must find herself again before she can move on with her life.

I have a dislike of magic realism so the use of it in the novel discomfited me. There’s a vicious dog that makes an appearance several times. A threat, it emphasizes Sonia’s inner turmoil, but I didn’t find it a necessary element. There are also recurring motifs of eyes and mirrors.

I enjoyed the portrait of contemporary Indian society. The reader sees the lingering effects of colonialism, the caste system, colourism, and corruption. I was especially interested in the portrayal of life for a single woman in India: “A single woman was expected to be grateful for any scrap that fell her way.” Divisions because of religion are also shown: “Someone who belonged to a religious minority had to appear meek and patriotic.”

There is also no doubt that the novel is well-written. Here’s a description of Sonia’s reaction to her loneliness: “Because her condition of winter loneliness had grown acute, and she felt compelled to tell her most compelling stories so she would be attractive and they could know each other quickly, profoundly, so she could relieve her solitude.” The pressure Sunny feels to succeed in America is compared to the push of people boarding a plane: “Crowds were trying to squeeze into the doorway past which a few chosen individuals were allowed to catch their flights, the rest of the family left ever farther behind. . . . he was pushed on by the bearing weight of people behind him, feeling their desperation concentrated upon his shoulders, his back. He carried the terror and ambition of thousands for the span of time it took to get through the eye of the needle.”

There are subtle touches of humour which lighten the predominantly serious mood. For instance, the mingling of international students searching for romance is described: “There was a slapstick randomness to these loves conducted in dozens of languages during movie nights or ballroom dancing lessons, or in the cafeteria, where everyone went despite the dullest food in the city in case a potential romance awaited by the steamed vegetable medley.” At one point, Sunny meets two brothers on a train; they’re seed breeders and Sunny wants to interview them, “But to be a journalist you have to win over the people you meet, and were they going to trust a man who did not speak to his mother? This violated the laws of the animal-vegetable-mineral kingdom.”

A novel of ideas, the book explores loneliness, cultural alienation, and the immigrant experience, but it also comments on other subjects as well. Love is examined: “Maybe all you needed was to be loved once. It was too much to ask to be loved all the way through life, and you could return to the memory for sustenance. Being loved all the time might be a curtailment, a redundancy. It was wild and restful to think without attachment.” The resentment of men is analyzed: “She recognized it, it was ubiquitous, it was in the air, it was in every man she’d ever met, that resentment. . . . It was the anger of being countered, refused, surpassed, denied, not adored enough – or simply ignored, because hell hath no fury like a man who is not the center of attention.”

Some of the commentary is light-hearted but some is scathing. There’s a discussion of English colonial mentality that struck me: “it occurred to him that Italy was the Englishman’s first India, their first scorching sun, swarthy skin, their first garlic and hot temper, their first people whom they viewed alternately as children and as savages, charming and suddenly cruel – ultimately baffling. Perhaps Italy had allowed them to attempt India. This would suggest Italian charm had some truth to it, or else the English would have returned to their sunless, un-garlicky island and saved the world the ruinous empire.”

The book is long, perhaps too long, with too many minor characters with detailed backstories. There were certainly times when I wanted a greater narrative focus with fewer digressions and less philosophizing. I recommend the book with a caution: readers must be prepared to invest time, not only because the book is lengthy but because it is dense and so requires concentration.

Review of THE CABIN by Jørn Lier Horst

 3.5 Stars

This is the second Norwegian police procedural in the Cold Case Quartet.

A prominent politician dies and 80 million kroner is found in his cabin. Chief Inspector William Wisting is asked to conduct a secret investigation to determine the origins of the money. Wisting comes to realize that there may be a link between the money and two cold cases: the disappearance of a young man, Simon Meier, and an airport robbery, both of which happened 15 years earlier.

As I mentioned in my previous review of the first book in the series, The Katharina Code, the character of Wisting is what drew me to the series. In this book, he is as likeable as ever: thorough and competent, it is not surprising that he is asked to lead this investigation. What bothered me then is that Wisting takes some actions which just don’t seem in keeping with his reputation for professionalism. For example, he asks Lise, his journalist daughter, to assist in this sensitive, confidential case? And he decides to keep the fortune in his house? Then he also adds other people to his team almost at random.

There are other elements which bothered me as well. Wisting doesn’t show much concern when he sees a stranger around his daughter’s house? Lise likewise doesn’t worry too much about finding the door to her house open or to discovering that her daughter Amelia’s drawing is missing? And Lise enlists the help of another journalist she’s never met before?

Then there’s the coincidence that Adrian Stiller, whom we met in the previous book, just happens to be reopening the Simon Meier case at the same time. Of course adding Stiller to the case adds tension because Wisting has “reservations about the man’s approach and methods” and Line agrees: “his investigations were a game of strategy in which he set the players up against each other, held the cards close to his chest and did not always play fair.”

Readers should not expect a fast-paced thriller. This is more of a plodding investigation, and I imagine most crime investigations, especially those into cold cases, are exactly that. Momentum does pick up towards the end as the attention of some nefarious characters is attracted. I must say however that there is perhaps too much attention paid to domestic details, especially those involving Amelia.

I was not as impressed with this book as I was with The Katharina Code, but I will still continue reading the series.

Review of THE KATHARINA CODE by Jørn Lier Horst

 4 Stars

My husband and I have streamed all seasons of Wisting, a Norwegian police procedural television series based on the William Wisting books by Jørn Lier Horst. We loved the shows and the character of the senior detective. I just learned that Horst wrote a series, entitled Cold Case Quartet, featuring Wisting investigating cold cases. The Katharina Code is the first of the four books.

Katharina Haugen went missing 24 years earlier and what happened to her has never been discovered. One clue, a note with a message in code, no one has been able to solve. Every year on the anniversary of her disappearance, Wisting visits Martin, Katharina’s husband. Over the years the two have formed a bond. This year Wisting is asked to assist in another cold case, that of Nadia Krogh, a teenager who was kidnapped two years before Katharina vanished. Because of finger prints on a ransom note, Martin is now suspected of Nadia’s abduction. Wisting is needed to use his connection with Martin to determine whether he was involved in Nadia’s disappearance and perhaps Katharina’s as well.

As I mentioned at the beginning, the character of Wisting is a reason for my taking an interest in this series. He’s not the typically tortured protagonist found in much of Nordic noir. He’s a widower with two adult children and a granddaughter he dotes on. He’s kind, calm, and determined. Not only intelligent, he is wise. He’s a principled man dedicated to the pursuit of justice. In this novel, he struggles with having to deceive Martin as he tries to determine the truth.

This is not a fast-paced, action-packed, twisty thriller, but a cerebral, character-driven police procedural. My interest did not wane, however, as there are hints as to what happened and I wanted to confirm my suspicions. There is also considerable tension when Wisting spends time with Martin at an isolated cabin. Also, Adrian Stiller, from the National Crime Investigations Service in Oslo, who leads the investigation into Nadia’s case is very ambitious and not above manipulating others or using unorthodox methods. Can he be trusted?

The perspective of three characters is given. Besides that of Wisting, there’s that of Line, Wisting’s daughter, who is a journalist covering the investigation into the kidnapping case. Finally, there are some chapters focusing on Stiller and it’s soon clear that he has an interesting backstory.

I really enjoyed this crime fiction story. It’s well-written and entertaining. I think I will move on to the next book in the series, The Cabin.

Review of CROSSBONES YARD by Kate Rhodes

 3 Stars

I was recently introduced to the author’s Isles of Scilly series which I enjoyed so thought I’d listen to the first book in her other series featuring Alice Quentin. Unfortunately, it was a disappointment.

Alice is a psychologist who had a difficult childhood because of an abusive father and selfish mother. Her mentally ill brother is a drug addict living in a van. Alice is drawn into an investigation into the deaths of young women. The way they are tortured and killed resembles the pattern of an infamous couple of serial killers. Soon Alice begins to receive threatening notes and has to be given police protection. A subplot focuses on the developing relationship between Alice and Ben Alvarez, the police detective leading the case.

The book is formulaic and predictable. I guessed the identity of the murderer very early and continued listening only to confirm that I was correct. There are so many clues that anyone who regularly reads crime fiction will identify the villain. There are red herrings, but they are just such obvious distractions. What I did not know is the murderer’s motive, but when it is explained, I found it very weak; it is certainly not sufficiently strong to explain the depravity demonstrated.

A major problem is the character of the protagonist. Alice works as a clinical psychologist treating eating disorders and anxiety, but then acts like a forensic psychologist? She’s not an expert on serial killers so her involvement with the investigation is unconvincing. In the large metropolis of London, surely there would be someone more qualified. For someone who should be knowledgeable about human psychology, she is a terrible judge of character. She tends to jump to conclusions about people. And she is so judgmental. Every time DI Burns appears, she comments on his weight; whenever another man shows up, she laughs at his television watching habits. Then there’s her lack of common sense: she constantly puts herself in danger. Her constant foolish choices mean she is not someone to be admired or respected.

This is not a taxing book requiring deep concentration so it made for a good audiobook. I should probably give the series another chance and perhaps I will in the future, but right now I think I’ll move on to another author.

Review of THE SPIRIT OF SCATARIE by Lesley Crewe

 3 Stars

This novel is set on Scatarie which I had never heard of but is a real island off the northeastern tip of Cape Breton Island.

The narrator is the ghost of Cara Murphy who died when she was fifteen in a shipwreck near the island. She tells the life stories of three people, Hardy, Sam and Mary Alice, all born on Christmas Day 1922. As the three grow up, they become inseparable, and their friendships bind them for the rest of their lives. We learn about the major events of their lives: marriages, births and deaths.

The title may refer to the narrator, but in many ways the book is about life on the island and the spirit of the place. There’s a very close-knit fishing community because people depend on each other. There is little comfort and few conveniences: no electricity, indoor plumbing, or running water, and only one telephone. Daily life on the isolated island is harsh and is described very realistically, though the beauty of the place is also emphasized. As time passes, changes come, especially to the fishing industry, so families move away. Mary Alice talks about “watching our lifeblood seep away.” In fact I came to learn that Scatarie was inhabited for over 300 years as a fishing station until residents were resettled to the mainland in the mid-1960s. The island is now a protected wilderness area.

The three main characters emerge with distinct personalities. I think that Mary Alice is the type of feisty character that would appeal to young readers who enjoy books like Anne of Green Gables. I did have some difficulties with Mary Alice, however. She is obviously attracted to one man but then, without ever showing any romantic interest in another man, says she loves the latter and immediately agrees to marry him.

I found the writing style unpolished. There are a lot of minor characters, mostly relatives of the three main characters, who appear to move the plot along and then disappear. It’s almost impossible to remember who is who. Then there are irrelevant scenes or scenes which have unnecessary details. For instance, do the logistics of each visit to Cape Breton need to be given: this character picked up this person and this character lent a vehicle and this character offered a place to stay? Parts of the narrative are predictable; for example, when Stuart is introduced and his attention to Sam’s wife is described, the narrative arc is totally foreseeable.

One element I really enjoyed is the story of Jane, the war bride. She comes to Scatarie from London with no real idea of what life is like on the island. What she sees upon her arrival is a great shock to her, and I imagine what many war brides faced must have been equally difficult. Of course the women of the community help her, and Jane realizes that “’the island is the best place in the world’” because she had friends and family on Scatarie when she had “’nobody in one of the most populated cities in the world.’”

I wasn’t convinced that the perspective of a spirit was needed, but the author seems to want to comfort the reader by claiming that the spirits of loved ones are around if one is open to them; there is no death: “no loss of life among you, only the ship.” Cara offers lessons to the living: “Life can be cruel and magnificent. You must resolve that both realities exist in the living realm” and “That is the paramount canon here. Forgiveness. Of others, but mostly of your own heart” and “Every little soul needs a friend. That’s a founding principle, a doctrine of this afterlife. No one can get through life or death alone” and “Are you aware of what a few kind words can do for a person? All of us are capable if we have a mind to.”

I did not find this to be one of Lesley Crewe’s finest novels, but it will appeal to readers who like an emotional story with both heart-breaking and heartwarming moments.

Review of MULE BOY by Andrew Krivák (New Release)

4.5 Stars 

This is a rivetingly beautiful book which I think will haunt me for some time.

Ondro Prach is an old man living a solitary life in the forests of New Hampshire. He narrates his life story beginning with a pivotal event when he was 13 years old. On New Year’s Day of 1929, Ondro, the son of Slovak immigrants, after two years of working in a coal mine in Pennsylvania, has been promoted to a mule boy. He handles a mule that hauls cartloads of coal from shafts deep within the mine. When a roof collapses, Ondro is trapped with four other men. He is the only one who escapes. The memory of that day is a burden that has a negative impact on his life: he escapes the mine but becomes a prisoner of his past, unable to escape the tragedy that defined his life. Many years later, he is visited by the miners’ loved ones seeking answers to the men’s last hours. He shares what he remembers, offering healing to the descendants, and finds healing and peace himself.

When I first began the novel, I struggled. It’s written in stream-of-consciousness style; there’s not one period in the entire book, though there are commas which suggest breaths taken by the speaker. I gradually got into the rhythm of the fluid, lyrical prose and ended up finding myself totally immersed, swept away by what is described as “incantatory prose set to the rhythm of human breath.”

This is a novel about tunneling through the worst of times. Because Ondro carries the burden of a terrible trauma, his life becomes a virtual prison sentence: “I went to prison not for what I had done but for what I had failed to do, hidden in a room deep below the ground where I did not find God and God did not find me, and I have wondered if this is what I have been asked to carry for the rest of my life, if there is life in this.” He is obviously suffering with survivor’s guilt. He fears that his life has no meaning; he has a deep fear of the dark, “not the dark in which there is no light but the dark in which there is nothing, no thing.”

Eventually he comes to understand the need to accept life with all it offers, whether horrors and grief and guilt or beauty and peace: “if you are alive, alone or with others, in the dark or in the light, imprisoned or walking freely, it is life right up to the last breath.” A friend speaks to him about the Book of Jonah in which Jonah is swallowed by a big fish, as Ondro was swallowed by the earth. Jonah needs to learn “about God’s mercy and magnanimity” and Ondro needs to be reminded of this as well and to forgive himself. It’s interesting that a miner keeps telling Ondro “ňestaraj śe” which translates as “don’t worry anymore” in a Slovak dialect, a different way perhaps of suggesting that God will provide.

Ondro also comes to terms with death. A friend teaches him that “death is not a destruction of being but a change of state” so “fear of death was weak and unfounded because there is no not being and this is the only way we can live life and not fear death, knowing that to become nothing is impossible and that what matters is the being our bodies consist of and death is simply a change.” (This made me think of an article I once read about how the atoms and energy particles that make up a living person persist in the universe, effectively changing form rather than vanishing. Based on the law of conservation of energy, the energy within a human body cannot be destroyed upon death, only transformed.)

This book really impressed me. With its focus on the burden of being the sole survivor of a tragedy, it is obviously sad, but it also emphasizes the possibility of redemption. I tend not to reread books, but this one certainly deserves a second look.

Review of DANDELION by Jamie Chai Yun Liew

3.5 Stars 

This was a 2025 Canada Reads selection chosen to be read by my book club.

In 1988, Swee Hua leaves her husband Ah Loy and her daughters, Lily and Bea. Lily, the narrator, is 11 years old when her mother disappears and is never heard from again. Twenty years later, Lily, a new mother, sets out to find Swee Hua.

The novel is divided into three parts. The first part, entitled “Before,” shows the family before Swee Hua’s departure. The family lives in Sparwood, a small mining town in British Columbia. Ah Loy wants them to blend into the Canadian life, but Swee Hua longs to return to Brunei. The second part, entitled “Now,” focuses on Lily as a young mother wishing her own mother were there to help her adjust to motherhood, a desire that sets her on her search. The last section, entitled “See,” describes Lily’s travels to Southeast Asia and her discoveries there.

The novel examines the complexities of the immigrant experience. I appreciated the contrasting views presented by Lily’s parents. Ah Loy is devoted to Canada because it gave him citizenship which he’d not had in Brunei. He largely rejects his ethnic heritage. He tends to be blind to some of the problems within Canada. Swee Hua, on the other hand, hates almost everything about Canada. She feels isolated from her family so she longs to leave and return to Southeast Asia. She tends to romanticize China, turning it almost into a fantasy land.

Other topics are also explored. For example, racism is highlighted. As a child, Lily is ostracized because of her ethnicity, and Swee Hua also faces discrimination. Depression, especially post-partum depression, and motherhood and identity are also addressed.

The novel’s slow pace is problematic. There is, for instance, a lot of repetition. In the first part there are repeated scenes of racism and disagreements between Ah Loy and Swee Hua about life in Canada. In the later sections, there is constant reference to Lily’s difficulties as a new mother. Then virtually every character questioned states s/he knows nothing about Swee Hua’s whereabouts. The many food references become tedious; some paragraphs just list foods: “Hot woks fried blood cockles for char kuey teow, a mortar and pestle ground peanuts for tangy rojack, succulent satay smoke on the grill, popiah were rolled up on wooden cutting boards, sweet and sour asam laksa simmered in a large pot, and layered kueh lapis in a rainbow of colours beamed from a refrigerated counter.”

The writing style does not impress. There is a lot more telling than showing. Dialogue is awkward because it’s used as exposition to give background information. Metaphors tend to be clunky. For example, Lily says, “I remember my teacher last year, Mrs. Henry, telling us knapweed was a noxious and non-native species that was invading the valley. It may have been unwanted, but it was vibrant and strong.” On the previous page, Ah Loy describes his Hakka tribe: “’Like a dandelion, the Hakka can land anywhere, take root in the poorest soil, flourish and flower.’” It’s obvious that neither is actually talking about weeds. Two white women who shun Swee Hua discuss a room divider: “’It’s quite ornate. Hand-painted and Oriental looking. It’s quite fetching . . . I just love how a little exotic touch can add so much to a plain room.’” It’s impossible to miss the irony.

The book touches on some important issues; I just wish the execution were more polished.