Long Island by Colm Tóibín

4/5 stars

What's it about? In the unexpected sequel to Brooklyn, we find Eilis Lacey twenty years later, living on Long Island with Tony and their two children, surrounded by the Fiorello family as neighbors. Tony has an affair with a married woman that results in a pregnancy, and when Eilis realizes she may be expected to accept this new child, she returns to Ireland for her mother’s 80th birthday and to decide her future.

How’d I find it? I recently listened to an interview with Colm Tóibín about the release of Long Island on The New York Times Book Review podcast and was sold, as I adored both the film adaptation of Brooklyn, with Saoirse Ronan’s outstanding performance as Eilis, and the original novel.

Who will enjoy this book? Readers of Elizabeth Strout and Ann Patchett will like Long Island. You don’t have to read Brooklyn first, but you really should.

What stood out? Colm Tóibín writes Eilis beautifully, this character who others find inscrutable but whose mind we get to pick through over the course of 300 pages. The complex interiority of her character is the novel’s best feature, as we don’t get far into the actual events of the story. Without spoiling too much, Tóibín leaves the reader wanting, and the place in the action where he chooses to end the book is abrupt and unsatisfying, almost as if he’d written the other half but wants to string this out into a trilogy. Either way, the writing is sharp, and I would revel in another installment.

Which line made me feel something? “Tonight would be the first time she would ever sleep in a house alone, when there would be no one in the bed with her or in the next room. In all her years with Tony, it was something she had often dreamed about, especially at the beginning of their marriage—slipping away, getting a train or even driving to some town and finding an anonymous hotel to spend two nights away from everyone.”

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

4/5 stars

What's it about? Half of a Yellow Sun takes place in 1960s Nigeria, when the eastern part of the country seceded to form Biafra. The novel follows beautiful Olanna, academic and activist Odenigbo, their young houseboy Ugwu, Olanna’s estranged twin Kainene, and her British lover Richard. A richly told account of the ravages of civil war.

How’d I find it? Adichie’s writing talents make me interested to read anything she’s published. This particular copy was a Christmas present my husband received.

Who will enjoy this book? For similar themes, check out the short story collection Say You’re One of Them by Uwem Akpan or the film Blood Diamond.

What stood out? Adichie paints every scene painstakingly so that reading this novel is a transportive experience. Take just three sentences from a whole paragraph describing a dining table: “Master’s plate was always the most rice-strewn, as if he ate distractedly so that the grains eluded his fork. Olanna’s glass had crescent-shaped lipstick marks. Okeoma ate everything with a spoon, his fork and knife pushed aside.” And so on. This level of description bloats the novel by at least 150 pages that could have been trimmed to rev up the pace. Half of a Yellow Sun also suffers from occasional toggling between the early and late sixties, a device more successful in jarring the reader than in building anticipation.

The novel’s great success is its luxurious detail about Igbo language and culture and Nigerian politics. I enjoyed learning from the characters, so thoroughly lovable (yes, even Richard with his passive racism) that there’s always someone to root for amidst the violence and grief.

Which line made me feel something? This possible definition of hell gave me pause: “The bumpy ride lying in the backseat of the Peugeot 404 and the fierce sun that sparkled the windscreen made Ugwu wonder if he had died and this was what happened at death: an unending journey in a car.”

Walkabout by James Vance Marshall

4/5 stars

What's it about? Thirteen-year-old Mary and her little brother Peter are the only survivors of a plane crash in the Australian Outback. Before the elements can overtake the unseasoned American children, they meet an Aboriginal boy completing a rite of passage. A smart novel that challenges prejudice and notions of civilization.

How’d I find it? I will read anything put out by New York Review Books, and I found this title at the ever reliable Powell’s.

Who will enjoy this book? Those who appreciated the classic Picnic at Hanging Rock or its film adaptation will like Walkabout. A close readalike is The Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell, as Walkabout also happens to be an all-ages book.

What stood out? Rich descriptions of nature round out the simple story and create the feel of a journey as our characters seek water, shelter, and food. The book’s brevity—125 pages—serves it well, as Walkabout can be gobbled up in one sitting to allow the reader days (or weeks) to digest its heavier themes of intolerance and miscommunication. Culture and experience distance Mary from the stranger they meet; his nudity and dark skin offend her, and the boy interprets her horror as a bad omen.

Which line made me feel something? I won’t soon forget this terrifying forest: “But around them, choking them to death, coiled the dodders - the predatory vines, sucking the nutriment out of their roots, gripping the trees with tentacles like tightening tourniquets. And intertwined with the dodders were the jikkas: headless, tail-less, rootless, vegetable snakes; growing on and on, from either end, wrapping their vampire arms around anything they touched.”

Sharks in the Rivers by Ada Limón

4/5 stars

What's it about? U. S. Poet Laureate Ada Limón embraces the beautiful and ugly of our world in this collection about wildness and humanness. Poems of water, mouths, and wending one’s way.

How’d I find it? I read The Carrying in 2020, and it blew my socks off; I extol and weep over “Instructions on Not Giving Up” at least once a month. Sharks in the Rivers has been high on the list ever since. This copy came from the fabulous poetry section at Multnomah County Central Library.

Who will enjoy this book? Readers of Natasha Trethewey, Ross Gay, and Aimee Nezhukumatathil should like this one.

What stood out? Limón knows her voice, and the book has a cohesive quality that allows the through lines of the work to sing at just the right volume. I admire collections that manage to link all the poems without feeling repetitive or monotone. Limón excels at devastating turns in her shorter pieces, and “Crush” is a prime example.

Which line made me feel something? From “Fifteen Balls of Feathers:” “He was reading backward on the couchette / while the world went by and I was / counting the faces of sunflowers. 1,753,285 yellow fools / thinking they’re going to go on forever.”

Dead in Long Beach, California by Venita Blackburn

4/5 stars

What's it about? Graphic novelist Coral discovers her brother Jay dead by suicide and hides his passing from loved ones as she reconciles with the loss. In her first novel, Blackburn ably finds humor in the grief.

How’d I find it? I heard about this book on the Fully Booked podcast and had to read it after listening to the interview. Thanks to Multnomah County Library for the copy.

Who will enjoy this book? Those who savored The Rabbit Hutch by Tess Gunty or Orange World by Karen Russell will appreciate the craft, wit, and humanity of Blackburn’s achievement.

What stood out? Dead in Long Beach, California is a collage of Coral’s mourning, excerpts from her science fiction series and fan fiction, and the reflections of an omniscient “we” who unpack key moments of Coral’s life and relationship with her brother. Both siblings remain inaccessible as characters, which makes Coral’s choices all the more horrid. But it works for Jay, a canvas for the book’s real focus: how major loss ripples and rocks through lives.

Also, this cover. Bananas. What on earth was the marketing strategy?

Which line made me feel something? A nugget of pure gold: “We have measured the hormones, the chemicals of fright and disbelief, the boil of the blood when a person encounters the dead. As close to one being as all of humanity truly is and pretends to be in their poems and scriptures, there is something different when the dead is familiar, when the corpse is expected to be articulated with a remembered smell, sound, and texture.”

The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares

4/5 stars

What's it about? Such a cunning little tale that it would be criminal to reveal much. Suffice it to say that a fugitive exiles himself to an island where all is not as it seems. Marvelously executed and funny to boot.

How’d I find it? Thank you, Powell’s! Your generous supply of the outstanding NYRB imprint never disappoints.

Who will enjoy this book? Fans of Ted Chiang, The Portrait of Dorian Gray, or the film Infinity Pool will revel in this novella.

What stood out? Bizarre and tragic, romantic and creepy, The Invention of Morel builds via fantastic turns that gratify the playful mind. Bioy writes a solid tease and knows when to leave the details murky. I felt that the epistolary format didn’t serve the plot, but this is a small gripe.

Which line made me feel something? Hilarious: “We are suspicious of a stranger who tells us his life story, who tells us spontaneously that he has been captured, sentenced to life imprisonment, and that we are his reason for living. We are afraid that he is merely tricking us into buying a fountain pen or a bottle with a miniature sailing vessel inside.”

CivilWarLand in Bad Decline by George Saunders

4/5 stars

What's it about? George Saunders mines the human condition in a witty collection with sprinklings of the dark consumerism and theme park background of Westworld. A masterfully executed first book.

How’d I find it? A friend who loves George Saunders gave my spouse this copy. I got to it first.

Who will enjoy this book? What are you waiting for? Saunders is an American treasure that always deserves a read. But, in the interest of following my self-imposed formula, fans of Nana Adjei-Brenyah, who studied under Saunders, will find inspirations for both Friday Black and Chain-Gang All-Stars in CivilWarLand in Bad Decline. Watchers of Black Mirror and Neil Gaiman should enjoy the book’s themes and humor.

What stood out? The writing is impeccable: irreverent, funny, and joyfully spot-on. You’ll be laughing out loud and thinking to yourself, “Man, he nailed it.” Saunders intuitively understands when to tickle the brain or strum a heartstring; the turns surprise and delight. The title story and the novella “Bounty” are particular standouts.

Which line made me feel something? The last paragraph of the story “CivilWarLand in Bad Decline” is perfection, but it would be unfair to spoil it. Here’s an excellent tidbit from “Bounty:” “Discipline and other forms of negativity are shunned. Bedtimes don’t exist. Face wiping is discouraged. At night the children charge around nude and screaming until they drop in their tracks, ostensibly feeling good about themselves. ‘We ran the last true farm,’ one of the kids screams at me. ‘Until the government put us out,’ the wife says softly. She’s pretty the way a simple white house in a field is pretty. ‘Now we’re on the fucking lam,’ says a toddler. Both parents smile fondly.”

In Deep by Maxine Kumin

4/5 stars

What's it about? Poet Maxine Kumin talks craft and country living in this volume of essays about managing a farm in New Hampshire while maintaining a writing life. A warm hearth of a book.

How’d I find it? I picked this up at Normals Books & Records in Baltimore, which has the kind of selection that makes me say, “Ooh!” and pluck a book off the shelf that I never even knew existed.

Who will enjoy this book? In Deep is for horse girls young and old, as well as for Mary Oliver and Henry David Thoreau acolytes.

What stood out? In Deep owes much to Kumin’s admiration of Thoreau, whose influence can be seen in essays dedicated to taxonomic descriptions of mushrooms and species of cattle as well as in “The Unhandselled Globe,” which centers on Thoreau himself. Kumin rejects the Freudian links to women who love horses and gendered assumptions about her mares; she and the animals she loves are the focus here, and glimpses of her human family are brief. She writes beautifully about the day-to-day labors of keeping a farm running, from building fences to keeping everyone fed.

Which line made me feel something? From the closing essay, “A Sense of Place,” an outstanding analysis of the stamp of home on Kumin’s poetry: “In a poem one can use the sense of place as an anchor for larger concerns, as a link between narrow details and global realities. Location is where we start from. Landscape provides our first geography, the turn of the seasons are archetypes for our own mortality.”

The Yellow House by Sarah M. Broom

4/5 stars

What's it about? Sarah M. Broom unpacks her family’s history, her upbringing as the youngest of twelve children, and the social, cultural, and political realities of her native New Orleans East before and after Hurricane Katrina. A thoughtful accounting of homecoming and place.

How’d I find it? My spouse’s family has links to New Orleans and collected multiple copies of The Yellow House over the years.

Who will enjoy this book? This is a must-read for memoir lovers, especially because Broom manages to craft an intimate look at her family while remaining at a remove herself, a technique that serves her complex narrative well. The book evokes home in a way that reminded me of The Boy Kings of Texas by Domingo Martinez.

What stood out? The first section of the book (“Movement I: The World Before Me”) draws the reader into its beautifully rendered portrait of heritage, gleaming with the author’s admiration for her family’s matriarchs. The Brooms and their wavelets of friends and ancestors comprise The Yellow House’s irreducible core, and you’ll yearn to return to them when the author focuses her attention elsewhere — another smart tool to reinforce periods of displacement. Despite some detours into platitudes (“namelessness is a form of naming”), Broom knows how to command the page.

Which line made me feel something? “When the presentation of the body stands in for all the qualities the world claims you cannot possess, some people call you elegant. Grandmother was that, yes, but sometimes elegance is just willpower and grace, a way to keep the flailing parts of the self together.”

The Vaster Wilds by Lauren Groff

4/5 stars

What's it about? A young woman flees colonial Jamestown to escape her life of servitude and starvation, only to battle the harsh realities of the American wilderness. A spartan novel of humanity, faith, and perseverance.

How’d I find it? I love me some Lauren Groff, so I bought this on publication day from Solid State Books.

Who will enjoy this book? This one will appeal to Annie Proulx readers or someone looking for a grown-up version of Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet.

What stood out? Every novel by Lauren Groff has its own world and tone, which speaks to her versatility and curious mind. The Vaster Wilds shares the contemplation of spirituality with Matrix but gives equal attention to the corporeal, the effects of the environment on a body in crisis. The 17th-century America that Groff evokes is indifferent to human suffering but peopled with glimpses of thriving indigenous Americans that contrast with the girl’s struggle to survive.

Which line made me feel something? Upon seeing a bear gaze with awe upon a waterfall: “Then she thought that perhaps in the language of bears there was a kind of gospel, also. And perhaps this gospel said to the bears the same thing about god giving bears dominion over the world. And perhaps bears believed that this gave them license to slaughter the living world, including the men within it. And this thought made her shake, for if the gospel was changeable between species, then god was not immoveable. Then god was changeable according to the body god spoke through. And that god could change according to the person in the moment the soul was encountering god.”