Books: My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry

My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry by Fredrik Backman

Fredrik Backman does it again. Unlike most people, my introduction to Fredrik Backman was his novel Britt-Marie Was Here (and not A Man Called Ove), mainly because that was what was available when I was looking for books to read. With My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry, Backman gives us another beautiful, feel-good novel that explores human relationships.

My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry is narrated by Elsa, an extremely astute seven-year-old who is bullied at school for being different and very close with her (slightly crazy) grandmother. Her grandmother is the one who introduces her to the fairytale world of the Land-of-Almost-Awake and all the stories of the heroes and characters within that fairytale world. When Elsa’s grandmother dies, she entrusts Elsa with a grand adventure of giving letters to the people around her. These letters are the grandmother’s way of saying sorry, and through them, Elsa learns a little more about the secret life of her grandmother as well as the people around her.

Although this novel is narrated by a child, it’s hardly a children’s book thematically and content-wise. But regardless of how intelligent Elsa is, she is still a child, and that fact, along with her grandmother’s fairytales, adds a simplicity and purity to the novel and narration. The stories and characters are complex, but can also be distilled into simple fairytales.

I love how Backman tells a story. The novel begins as just a tale of a girl and her crazy grandmother living their life, along with the fairytales that the crazy grandmother fabricates, but gradually develops into something more, looking at their family history and family dynamics, and eventually encompassing the larger family of their neighbors in their building. One of my favorite parts of the novel is how the fairytales bleed into reality in a way that isn’t magical realism, but approaches it in the way that Elsa views and interprets these connections. Is the wurse just a big dog or is it really a wurse? We will never know.

It was also really interesting reading this novel after Britt-Marie Was Here, because Britt-Marie is one of the many supporting characters here, and is at first characterized as an antagonist, especially from Elsa’s perspective. The Britt-Marie of this novel is very different from Britt-Marie Was Here, mainly because the latter’s story begins where this novel ends, and is the story of Britt-Marie’s transformation. It was interesting reading this novel and gaining a different perspective on Britt-Marie, while already knowing and having sympathized with her in Britt-Marie Was Here.

Already, I see a certain formula to the way that Backman writes and structures his stories, but it works so I won’t complain. They might be a bit formulaic, but the characters, relationships, and stories themselves are complex and feel real.

Books: Afterworlds

Afterworlds by Scott Westerfeld

Scott Westerfeld was one of the first YA authors I ever read with his Uglies series in middle school, and one of my favorite authors growing up. I loved what he did with Uglies and what he did with Leviathan. Which is why I had high hopes for Afterworlds, in which he tackles the YA genre itself, but I was a bit disappointed.

Containing two novels, one which is the “real” one about teenage writer Darcy Patel who just signed a huge two-book contract with a publishing company and is now moving to New York, and another that is the novel Darcy wrote, also titled Afterworlds, which follows protagonist Lizzie Scofield after she survives a terrorist attack and discovers the ability to see the dead. The concept of the book is meta, as it’s about the YA world itself–readers, writers, and publishers–and having just read The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry (by Gabrielle Zevin, a great book that I sadly won’t be fully reviewing here), I had high expectations for meta novels about the world of novels and novel-writing.

Books: The Rose & The Dagger

The Rose & The Dagger by Renee Ahdieh

In The Rose & The Dagger, Renee Ahdieh gives us a lovely conclusion to Shahrzad and Khalid’s love story. This sequel to The Wrath & The Dawn features yet another beautiful cover and more of the magic, romance, and intrigue that I loved in the first book.

The Rose & The Dagger picks up from where the cliffhanger ending of The Wrath & The Dawn left off. We get to meet some new characters out in the desert, such as Shazi’s sister Irsa, and a new magic wielder. Shazi is officially a guest of the Balawi tribe in the desert, but she feels like she is among enemies and must carefully navigate her relationships with her former lover, former friends, and family, people whom she once loved and who once loved her, but who now don’t necessarily trust her.

The story covers a lot of ground in its 400-some pages, but is a pretty quick read, with much of the story and plot propelled by dialogue (some which can be a little cheesy at times.) Perhaps because it covers so much, I felt that the ideas, emotions, relationships, and plot were at times a little too simple and too perfect. In particular, I felt that both Tariq’s and Jahandar’s actions and decisions were explained away too simply. They both suffered from loving too much, or loving too simply. So much of what happens in their decision-making and thought process boils down to love, which makes sense given that this is a romance (although not all of the love is romantic/sexual love). But I wanted them to have a little more complexity, and they seemed a little too simple and single-minded. There were some pretty shocking betrayals and plot twists, but even those were explained away a little too simply and a little too cleanly.

The one aspect of Ahdieh’s writing that first captured my heart in The Wrath & The Dawn and did so again in this book is her ability to make me feel for the characters. Very few books can make my heart ache for the characters and their situations and their heartbreaks, but both books in this series have succeeded in doing so, and that’s so important to me in reading a good romance. These books make me feel, but not in a melodramatic way that involves tears and heaviness, but in a lighter, feel-good way.

For all my talk of how the plot, emotions, and ideas are a bit too simple and perfect, they also make for a nice, feel-good, fluffy romance. This series is a worthwhile read if you love YA, romance, and delicious descriptions of food.

Books: The Wrath & The Dawn

The Wrath & The Dawn by Renee Ahdieh

The young adult genre is full of fantasy romance novels that all have pretty similar storylines and characters, and The Wrath & The Dawn by Renee Ahdieh is no exception. But this book is also an exceptionally well-written one that stands out among its peers and is exactly what I wanted it to be. The cover is beautiful and there is magic, politics, secrets, and intrigue, but for the most part the story is light and at its heart is a beautiful love story that transported me to another world and into another life.

The Wrath & The Dawn is pitched as a retelling of One Thousand and One Nights and I definitely had Rimsky-Korsakov’s symphony playing on repeat in the background as I listened. Shahrzad lives in Khorasan, where each night the young caliph Khalid weds a new bride and each morning that bride is killed. When her best friend becomes one of the caliph’s victims, Shahrzad voluntarily enters the palace as his next bride and vows to be the last one. Her plan is to assassinate him, but instead she finds that the mystery behind the dead brides is not as simple as she thinks, and she slowly falls in love with Khalid. Of course, her family and friends outside the palace have no idea what’s going on and think she’s lost her mind or been manipulated by Khalid. Both her father Jahandar and her childhood sweetheart Tariq take it upon themselves to rescue her from the caliph, and both Khalid and Shahrzad face enemies and threats from all sides.

The story is well-written and full of vivid descriptions, which was a welcome change after reading a lot of literary pieces that were minimalist in their visual descriptions and didn’t waste words. Ahdieh has a fascination with eyes in her writing, and sometimes I was a bit skeptical as to how eyes can shimmer and shine and express all sorts of emotions just by sparkling and existing. It wasn’t quite enough to make me annoyed, but it was enough to get my attention (in a bit of a bad way…)

The plot is captivating, but it’s mainly Shahrzad who steals the show and my heart in this novel. She is pretty much my ideal female protagonist: she’s strong and sarcastic, she can handle difficult situations with elegance, but she’s not flawless. I could feel the strength of emotion and magnetism between her and Khalid.

The ending is pretty abrupt, which is perhaps the worst part of the novel, but I also like these kinds of endings, and I have the sequel readily available to read, so I probably don’t hate it as much as someone who would have to wait a year or two to get a continuation of the story. Overall, The Wrath & The Dawn is a great romance that is definitely worth a read if you’re looking for a lot of romance and a little bit of something more.

Books: Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights

Salman Rushdie’s Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights

The one thing this book has succeeded at is making me appreciate my ArtHum education. There are so many references to canonical Western art pieces, and it’s fun to recognize these references and recognize the way the ideas and themes of the novel interact with the themes of the paintings. Or perhaps that’s my semi-liberal arts education speaking. But I have no doubt that without that liberal arts learnedness, I would not have enjoyed the novel.

I feel really conflicted about this work because the concepts and ideas and themes are really interesting, but the actual execution makes reading at times tedious and boring. You’d think that with so many cultural references, ranging from modern-day superhero to Ivy League education artwork, the reading would be more interesting. But it’s not. The ideas are: Rushdie always ties Indian culture into his writing, and we get a really great mash-up of cultures in East meets West and how that all ties into historical and global racism, discrimination, and bigotry. But the characters are hard to connect with and the writing, though at times poetic and lyrical, could also be very tedious to get through. Sometimes I felt like Rushdie’s goal was to make every paragraph the same long length, and sometimes I straight up fell asleep while reading.

But the ideas, the ideas are so great! We get this really interesting fairytale backstory of jinnia/fairy princess and mortal human man. The fantastical jinn have an Arabic/Islamic origin, but their fairytale world is pretty similar to the fairies/faeries/fae that contemporary urban fantasy is so fond of, and Rushdie ties their interactions with our world into Western canon–Greek gods, European monsters, and the like.

Goya’s “The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters” pretty much sets the framework for the whole novel, where the sleep of reason–unreason–appears to be religion, which creates the grounds for discrimination and bigotry, and the doing of misdeeds all in the name of religion. The novel seems to criticize religion, calling reason an absence of religion and the only way to finding peace and equality, but in the end, it becomes clear that perhaps the prevalence of reason and absence of unreason isn’t all great either. Because even though the “sleep of reason” might bring forth monsters, it is also in sleep that we dream and have a source of creativity.

Conceptually great but emotionally lacking, Rushdie’s novel was mostly an exercise in seeing how much I really learned from my classes in school. I’m glad I can say I learned something, and was able to recognize several references to Goya’s “Saturn Devouring His Son,” which allowed me to actually enjoy parts of the novel so I didn’t have to unhappily trudge through the flood of words.

Books: Modern Romance

Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari

I love what Aziz Ansari does in the entertainment industry, especially with his show Master of None. He’s a funny guy, and Modern Romance is very much a textual version of a comedy or talk show. That doesn’t always work in its favor: sometimes the humor works, but often the humor falls flat and seems tangential and forced, especially in this textual format. I probably would have enjoyed this book more if it were in podcast form, narrated by Ansari.

In Modern Romance, Aziz Ansari explores what romance and relationships have become in our modern world of social media, technology, and increased gender equality. This has the potential to be pretty interesting, but unfortunately a lot of the ideas and themes were already familiar to me. Perhaps it’s because a lot of the themes are repeated in his show, Master of None, which I just watched, or because I am the generation that is growing up in this world of online dating, Tinder, and social media. To someone who has not grown up in this world, perhaps this book offers some groundbreaking insights, but to me, it’s just life. To some extent, I have either personally experienced, or have friends who have experienced pretty much every aspect of modern relationships that are discussed in Modern Romance. Relationships and relationship theory are things that I often think about or talk about with friends. To some extent, that makes the content of Modern Romance more relatable, but also makes it a bit boring.

That being said, I appreciate the way Ansari ties in sociological/psychological studies on decision-making and gambling into talking about relationships and love–it’s all just human nature, isn’t it?–as well as his international research and inclusion of personal anecdotes. Modern Romance is a personal exploration that expanded into the wider world, and being able to tie everything back to Ansari’s personal curiosity and personal romantic experiences makes the reading experience more enjoyable, and also makes up for the over-familiar content and occasionally flat humor.

Books: The Winner’s Kiss

The Winner’s Kiss by Marie Rutkoski

What a fantastic finish to a great trilogy. I had some issues with Book 2 of this series, but The Winner’s Kiss has the best of what made The Winner’s Curse great, and brings so much more.

The Winner’s Kiss picks up where Book 2 left off, with our heroine Kestrel in prison, her memory slowly slipping away, and Arin fighting a desperate war to reclaim his kingdom from the Valorians. The plot, with its intrigue, trickery, and strategy, is the reason why I started reading, since I had to know how the story ended, but I was surprised by how much this final novel is driven by characters and relationships, perhaps even more than it is driven by the plot.

Kestrel has always had a pride and arrogance that can make her unlikable and appear self-centered. In The Winner’s Kiss, she loses that, and loses herself, and though she becomes physically weaker, she also becomes mentally stronger as she rediscovers and remembers who she was. The Winner’s Kiss is about Kestrel and Arin’s rediscovery and rebuilding of their relationship, the uncertainty of trust and love and emotions. But the central relationship here is not the romantic one between Kestrel and Arin, it is the complex relationship between Kestrel and her father, and that is the relationship that steals the show.

Marie Rutkoski writes emotion really well. I could feel the tension, hurt, sorrow, relief, heartbreak, and uncertainty. The tenuous and fragile bond of trust between Kestrel and Arin made my heart hurt. But where these emotions really come through is in Kestrel’s reflections on her relationship with her father. She seeks his approval and love, yet has also been hurt and betrayed by him. She respects him, but also thinks she hates him. She wants to hurt him the way he has hurt her, but she also can’t deny that some part of her still loves him and still seeks his attention. What I found most heartbreaking about this relationship is that Kestrel’s betrayal was discovered when her father was trying to bridge a gap between them, and in his own way, make amends.

Perhaps I connect with this part of the novel so deeply because it reminds me of my own relationship with my father. It resonates with me, but it is also written and explored so well. Most of the relationships in this novel are about family: what it means to have family, and what it means to be family. There is a good amount of romance and strategizing, action, trickery, and drama. But family and father-daughter relationships are what has turned this trilogy from being just another light fantasy romance to something that is deeper.

The author’s acknowledgements afterword makes it clear that this novel was researched, and I really respect that. I have always felt that people look down on the YA genre–even people who read it scorn these novels as not “real” books at times. But I think Rutkoski’s research into topics that are relevant to her story elevate the novel and prove that YA novels aren’t just fantasies spun out of the author’s imagination. I mean, they are, but they also can contain deeper and more meaningful messages and material.

I have been disappointed by so many YA trilogies lately, and have dropped so many of them because of second books that weren’t quite up to par, but I am so glad I stuck with this one. The story, characters, and writing have grown so much throughout the series, and make their exit in an extremely memorable finale.

Books: See How They Run

See How They Run by Ally Carter

I have been a loyal Ally Carter fan ever since I first picked up I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You in middle school, but I think it’s time to acknowledge that perhaps I am aging out of her target audience and her writing in general. I ran into the same issues with See How They Run that I did with Embassy Row, and I don’t know if it’s this series, or if I am getting too old for Ally Carter.

In terms of storytelling and crafting a plot, See How They Run is rock solid. The plot itself is engaging and is pretty much the only reason I finished the book as quickly as I did, because trying to wade through paragraphs of Grace’s internal dialogue is wearying. Like with Embassy Row, I found the portrayal of Grace’s mental illness to be really fascinating. I think Carter is good at bringing the reader into Grace’s headspace–I could feel Grace’s panic and confusion. But Grace’s immense guilt and self-blame, while understandable, becomes repetitive and tiring. I found it to be rather self-centered and I still do not like her much as a character.

The writing itself, while great with action and plot, feels a little too juvenile and naive for me. For a novel rife with conspiracy and international “politics,” it is very light on any real politics. The concept of having these novels set among teens in an international scene whose every action has international implications is very interesting, but also implies a sophistication and discussion of politics that does not exist. Of course, to do so would probably be a bit too heavy for sixteen-year-olds and the target audience, but it is one of the reasons why I struggle to like this novel. I think teenagers could handle a bit of politics.

It’s rather crazy to realize that I picked up my first Ally Carter book ten years ago and have read every single one of her young adult novels since then. Unfortunately, she still writes for the middle schooler/young high schooler that I once was when I first picked up her books, and I am no longer that girl. I wish her books could age with her original fans, but it also makes that they don’t. I’m not going to jump ship just yet, but I think it’s time that I acknowledge I can’t go into her novels with the same expectations that I had as a high schooler reading Gallagher Girls.

Books: The Invasion of the Tearling

The Invasion of the Tearling by Erika Johansen

This sequel to Queen of the Tearling does not disappoint, and even better, does not suffer from Second Book Syndrome! My mixed feelings about the novel have little to do with plot, which is always a good sign when reading the second book in a trilogy.

The Invasion of the Tearling follows Kelsea in her role as queen, where she struggles to balance what is expected of her as a ruler with what she envisions for the kingdom. In addition to the impending Mort invasion, she also has to deal with some personal issues, including her mysterious visions/disappearances into the body and life of Lily, a pre-Crossing woman who lives with an abusive husband, and whose link to Kelsea and the post-Crossing world is a mystery. These two parallel stories allow us to further explore the history and origins of this strange pseudo-medieval world.

I’m a bit miffed by how some people can label this series as young adult, because the writing and scenes can get pretty gruesome and graphic.

The biggest turn-off of the novel was Kelsea’s continued obsession with her own appearance and sexuality. While we do see some interesting character development in terms of Kelsea struggling with her “dark side” and finding alarming parallels between herself and her enemy, the Mort Queen, there is also way too much of a focus on Kelsea’s sexuality. She continually seeks validation in the form of male attention, and makes it seem like she is defined only by male attraction to her. For someone who tries so hard to escape the ugly shadow of her mother’s vanity, she is disconcertingly obsessed with being attractive, which is pretty disheartening, that this supposedly strong queen can only find meaning in being desired sexually. There are armies on her borders but all she can think about is why no one wants to have sex with her.

I also started to get some Game of Thrones vibes in some of the parallels. Hodor and Ewen are similar, simple-minded giants. Aisa and Arya are similarly small, young girls with big tempers who want to fight and train with knives and swords. These parallels weren’t necessarily good things, since it made Invasion of the Tearling feel less original, despite the interesting backstory and history of the world.

Naturally, that is why Lily’s story is so much more fascinating in comparison. She views herself as weak and shallow, and is seen that way by the people around her, but hidden inside is a backbone of steel, one that allows her to survive and endure her husband’s abusiveness. Wanting to know what happens to Lily and how her story connects to Kelsea is the biggest reason why I kept reading and endured Kelsea’s self-obsession.

Invasion of the Tearling ends in a really good place, and despite my reservations with the characters, has a strong and well-paced plot. I am definitely looking forward to finishing the series with the third and final book, which is to be released this year!

Books: Missoula

Missoula: Rape and the Justice System in a College Town by Jon Krakauer

Missoula was a really difficult book to read, not because it was bad or boring, but because it made me so angry I couldn’t read too much at once. It is one of those books that everyone should have to read.

Jon Krakauer is an extremely skilled writer. He very rarely gives his own input, but instead shapes the narrative and sends a message through how he arranges and pieces together quotes, interviews, and historical or educational background information. That is part of what makes this book so effective. As a reader, I was given the information I needed to form my own opinions, rather than having ideas force-fed to me. And my great takeaways from this book are extremely depressing.

Each individual sexual assault case discussed in Missoula seems horrible and extreme. But as I read about these Missoulian sexual assault cases and the ways in which they were or were not prosecuted, handled, and responded to by media, the cases also seemed eerily familiar, and for good reason. The assaults discussed in Missoula happened a half-decade ago, but the responses from the media and the surrounding town are so similar to what we still see today.

I decided to pick this book up because of recent events (namely the recent Stanford rape case that has been all over the news.) So much of the media and social rhetoric surrounding the case (before, during, and after the public backlash) is very similar to sentiments expressed in response to the Missoulian cases in which star athletes were implicated. It’s depressing how little has changed in the way that sexual assault cases are judged by the courts and portrayed by media, especially when the rapists are entitled athletes.

Unfortunately, as Krakauer is careful to note, and as the Stanford rape case shows us, Missoula is not an exception. In fact, Missoula’s statistics concerning sexual assaults and the investigations of these crimes are on par with the national average. That is the really scary part. This book seems like (and is) a very in-depth portrait and investigation of very specific town. It seems like this town is some sort of exception or extreme case. But it isn’t.

Reading this book has made me aware of and lose faith in our broken legal and justice system. This is a system that “promotes chicanery, outright deceit, and other egregious misconduct by trial lawyers” all in the name of “pursuing the truth.” It is a system where lawyers are not just allowed, but to some extent expected and encouraged, to attack the victims and do their best to ruin their reputations and create doubt about their characters. It is a system where cases can simply disappear if the attorneys’ office decides to claim “insufficient evidence” and not prosecute.

There are so many misunderstandings and presumptions about rape that books like this should be mandatory reading. Many universities now have mandatory sexual respect initiatives and workshops on what it means to consent. Perhaps sex ed in public schools should be expanding to include lessons on consent. America has many crises, and sexual assault and rape–especially acquaintance rape–is one of them. No other crime is as steeped in sexism and stigma as this one.