Mood Swings by Frankie Barnet

4/5 stars

What's it about? Animals finally take their revenge against people, until billionaire Roderick Maeve develops a sound that kills every non-human beast on the planet. Jenlena and Daphne are roommates navigating a post-fauna reality wracked by social and environmental upheaval, influenced by the Moon Bethlehems, a cult rallying against the natural degradation caused by humans. Jenlena starts a fling with Maeve just as he’s developing a time machine to possibly save the world. A smart, funny, and relevant first novel.

How’d I find it? This wild cover caught my eye as I strolled the shelves at Powell’s on a Sunday, coffee in hand.

Who will enjoy this book? Mood Swings echoes many of the themes and plot devices of Girlfriend on Mars by Deborah Willis, another talented Canadian writer.

What stood out? The odd thoughts during sex, the ennui, the self-conscious paranoia—Barnet gets young womanhood and knows how to write it without judging her characters. She also evokes a future all too probable; I can absolutely envision a future in which houseplants replace the lost experience of pets. Reading this book in 2025 hits a special nerve, so I recommend picking up Mood Swings as soon as you can.

Which line made me feel something? How I loved the writing in this novel: “It was dark and Jenlena made out only shapes: the shape of branches, the shape of underbrush, the shape of wanting to do anything he asked her to, the shape of being afraid to do it.”

Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi

3/5 stars

What's it about? Gifty, an ambitious and talented doctoral candidate in neuroscience at Stanford, takes in her mother as she grapples with a depressive episode that rivals the one she survived when Gifty’s brother died of an overdose. A tender sophomore novel about family, faith, and grief.

How’d I find it? How I miss Politics and Prose and the way they have every title I could possibly imagine.

Who will enjoy this book? The book reminded me heavily of the excellent 2019 film Waves. If you like the work of Celeste Ng, pick this one up.

What stood out? Transcendent Kingdom covers relevant themes about immigration, race, mental health, and modern religion, so it will appeal to any reader who seeks a solid pick from the bestsellers table. Despite Gyasi’s sure command, the novel lacks an edge, and this well-written approachability fails to cloak its formulaic narrative.

Which line made me feel something? “God was gone in an instant, but my mother became a mirage, an image formed by refracted light. I moved toward her and toward her, but she never moved toward me. She was never there.”

Painting Time by Maylis de Kerangal

2/5 stars

How’d I find it? This Electric Lit list of books curated by Camille Bordas, who wrote The Material, drew me to Maylis de Kerangal.

Why not 3 or more stars? Bordas was right to put Painting Time on a list about obsession. De Kerangal clearly did her research for this novel about the art of trompe-l’œil painting and couldn’t help sharing what she learned. The world she crafts is immersive but claustrophobically small. I kept wanting to peek behind the details—someone’s eyeshadow color, the way they looked while sleeping—to understand who the characters were as people. I settled on interpreting the deluge of minutiae as the development of Paula’s vision as a painter. Regardless, it’s tedious.

Orbital by Samantha Harvey

5/5 stars

What's it about? Six astronauts in low orbit move through a day on the space station as they witness sixteen sunrises and sunsets on Earth. A dreamy little novel about progress, ambition, and the place of humanity in the cosmos.

How’d I find it? Trolling the fiction shelves at Powell’s on a weekday. This cover caught my eye, and I took it home. Six months later, Orbital won the 2024 Booker Prize.

Who will enjoy this book? If you liked When We Cease to Understand the World by Benjamín Labatut, this might speak to you.

What stood out? Orbital creates the delicious feeling of one’s own smallness, the dizzying scale of the universe that exists beyond the self. I enjoyed every word. Harvey’s winding descriptions and breathy proclamations add to the mystic qualities of this book, whose action takes place mostly in the minds of astro/cosmonauts Chie, Shaun, Nell, Anton, Roman, and Pietro. The references to space programs can feel elementary for those like yours truly who read a lot (like, a lot) about astronomy, but these will be launch points for further research for inductees. Savor a standout passage in which Shaun reflects on Velázquez’s painting Las Meninas.

Which line made me feel something? “The mundaneness of their earth-stuck orbit, bound for nowhere; their looping round and never out. Their loyal, monogamous circling which struck them last night as humbly beautiful. A sense of attraction and servitude, a sort of worship.”

The Pornographer by John McGahern

2/5 stars

How’d I find it? The illustrious NYRB Classics Book Club strikes again!

Why not 3 or more stars? I recognize that one shouldn’t expect much pep in a book about an unwanted pregnancy and the loss of a beloved aunt, but sheesh. The Pornographer does boast some solid writing, especially when our deplorable narrator reflects macroscopically on the nature of humanity, love, and death. Those moments would add up to five pages I would happily devour; the full effect of 250 pages of misery and cringeworthy characters, however, proves too much to overcome.

Play It As It Lays by Joan Didion

4/5 stars

What's it about? Sometimes actress and full-time sad girl Maria Wyeth is wise to the emptiness underlying the dazzle of Hollywood in the 1960s and can’t unsee it, especially after having a clandestine abortion. The husbands and lovers, the ambling days by the pool, the beloved daughter too complicated to mother, the vapid gatherings—Maria can’t summon the performance to care.

How’d I find it? My husband said I should read this and lent me his copy. He was right.

Who will enjoy this book? Readers of Bret Easton Ellis will recognize the vibes, and those who love Eve Babitz will recognize the Los Angeles that Didion captures so vividly.

What stood out? The ennui of this book absorbs the reader, so much so that one might crave a chaise lounge nearby. Maria moves through her life tearful and without a filter, indulging fixations: her upbringing in an abandoned mining town, the loss of her mother, the L.A freeways. Didion nails setting so completely that it’s easy to forgive the confusing shifts in time. Enjoy the passages describing Maria’s long drives; they’re a particular treat in this merciless novel.

Which line made me feel something? Maria tries to connect to her past, or anything really, during an impromptu trip to Vegas: “By the end of a week she was thinking constantly about where her body stopped and the air began, about the exact point in space and time that was the difference between Maria and other. She had the sense that if she could get that in her mind and hold it for even one micro-second she would have what she had come to get. As if she had fever, her skin burned and crackled with a pinpoint sensitivity. She could feel smoke against her skin.”

Little Eyes by Samanta Schweblin, Translated by Megan McDowell

5/5 stars

What's it about? A new technology is sweeping the world. Kentukis, cute pet robots controlled by anonymous human users, offer companionship to their keepers and an intimate relationship with a stranger to their dwellers. What might such privileged access cost us? Can privacy exist in a world where someone is always watching? A genius novel about connection.

How’d I find it? Samanta Schweblin’s prowess ensures that every book she puts out is a winner. I picked up my copy at Powell’s. I mean, look at that cover!

Who will enjoy this book? I was heavily reminded of the charming stories in Out There by Kate Folk while reading Little Eyes. Another short and creepy read that features tech gone bad? This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno.

What stood out? Schweblin structures the novel in vignettes, using locations as chapter titles. The effect turns the book into pins in a map, a book-length collection of reels. My favorite storyline: Emilia, a single woman in Lima whose son gifts her the chance to be a dweller, becomes so attached to her German keeper that she pushes the boundaries of her role as household rabbit. Little Eyes feels like a warning from the future, one that clearly ruffled me, as I’m composing this review in incognito mode.

Which line made me feel something? In a chapter focused on Alina, the bored partner of an artist: “Why were the stories about kentukis so small, so minutely intimate, stingy, and predictable? So desperately human and quotidian…Sven would never change his art for her. Nor would she change, for anyone, her state of existential fragmentation. Everything faded.”

Fire by George R. Stewart

5/5 stars

What's it about? A lightning strike in the Sierra Nevada creates the wildfire known as Spitcat, which rages over eleven days in this outstanding nail-biter of a nature novel. Through intricate portraits of the firefighters, animal inhabitants, and the forest itself, Stewart crafts a luxurious landscape in which readers will become heartbreakingly invested.

How’d I find it? Fire was the August 2024 selection of the NYRB Classics Book Club, which you absolutely need in your life.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of The Overstory by Richard Powers or Tarka the Otter by Henry Williamson will not be able to put Fire down.

What stood out? This read utterly enchanted me. Chapters open with a philosophical or historical treatment of fire, including the glorious line “Lightning is the true Prometheus,” before zooming into the happenings of one of the book’s characters, including the Spitcat herself. I couldn’t get enough of John Bartley, the ranger who loves the trees as family, and Judith, the plucky young lookout who first sees smoke. Originally published in 1948, the book suffers from some racist and sexist language, its only weakness.

Which line made me feel something? Stewart’s writing blew my socks off. Take, for example: “Now a fire is more like a shape-shifting monster, stretching out long and encircling arms before it. Now a fire is like a nation, growing weak for a while, and then springing up with a new vigor, as millions of flamelets within it die, or as new flamelets blaze up. But—man or monster or nation—like them all, the fire is the thing-in-itself. It begins, and is, and ends; it is born, and lives, and dies.”

Tell the Machine Goodnight by Katie Williams

5/5 stars

What's it about? Pearl works for Apricity, whose proprietary tech tells people what they should do to be happier. But do people even want to be happy? Pearl’s son Rhett has an eating disorder, and maybe Apricity can tell Pearl how to save him. A gorgeous novel about humanity and fulfillment.

How’d I find it? The New York Times review made reading this book a priority. I found a gently used copy at Powell’s.

Who will enjoy this book? Tell the Machine Goodnight is for the sad girls, a pet sub-genre of mine that includes all of Lana Del Rey’s discography and the film Sometimes I Think About Dying. You know what? I’m creating a tag called Lana to commemorate works of this ilk. If you appreciated the writing chops and feels of Biography of X by Catherine Lacey or the “sad girls of the future” lilt of Everything You Ever Wanted by Luiza Sauma, you’ll enjoy Williams’s first adult novel.

What stood out? Williams chooses to shake up the narration throughout the book, made up of standalone chapters à la Olive Kitteridge. The effect rounds out the story’s focus on the human, which contrasts with the added chaos of technology. Calla Pax, a superstar for her screaming abilities, was a particularly compelling character.

Which line made me feel something? The meaning of Apricity recalls our blue light present and holds its melancholy tightly: “The warmth of the sun on one’s skin in the winter.”

Tell Them of Battles, Kings, and Elephants by Mathias Énard

4/5 stars

What's it about? In the aftermath of a falling out with Pope Julius II, Michelangelo accepts a commission from the Ottoman Sultan Bayezid II to design a bridge for Constantinople (today’s Istanbul). A dreamy morsel of a novel about desire, inspiration, and the work of creating.

How’d I find it? I was so mesmerized by the English translation’s cover that I bought a copy of the original French during a trip to Paris.

Who will enjoy this book? The tone will be familiar to fans of Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino and the “Letters from Zedelghem” section in David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas.

What stood out? Énard makes Constantinople a character in its own right; time and place are beautifully rendered here, an exquisite strength. While the language drips with sentiment and poignancy, the effect happens to work perfectly for its subject matter — a fictional interlude in the life of a Renaissance genius. I also enjoyed the kernels of authenticity sprinkled throughout the tale, like Michelangelo’s lists of ephemera and translated correspondence from the period.

Which line made me feel something? The title comes from Rudyard Kipling and is wondrously evoked in the novel (translation attempt my own): “We conquer them in telling of battles, kings, elephants, and marvelous beings; in telling them of the happiness beyond death, the living light that presided over their births, the angels surrounding them, the demons who menace, and love, love, that promise of forgetting and fulfillment.”