Historical Fiction

Book Review: The Women in the Castle by Jessica Shattuck

With so many WWII era historical fiction books on the market, The Women in the Castle has the potential to get overlooked. It’s been sitting on my shelf for a few months, but I finally took the time to read it. I’m glad that I did, because it gave me a thoroughly different perspective on the affected people of WWII, highlighting the lives of German women that also had to live with the fallout of being members of a defeated country.

As Germany is attempting to rebuild, three women come to live together at an old castle in Ehrenheim, Germany. Marianne Von Lingenfels, who the castle now belongs to, has vowed to take in the wives of her dead husband’s peers – widowed women whose husbands may have also been resisters of Hitler and now have nowhere else to turn. Benita Fledermann, the wife of Marianne’s good friend Connie Fledermann, comes to live with her along with her son Martin. Later, Ania Graberek also finds solace at the castle with her two sons.

There was a quote that stood out to me about halfway through the novel. “But what are people without their faces? How could you know a man if you can’t see his face?” (198). Marianne asks this of Ania. Marianne is very straightforward, and she believes the world to be black and white – you are either a Nazi supporter or you are not, you are a resister, or you are complicit, you are strong or you are weak. There is no gray area. The reader finds out quickly that Ania and Benita live their lives far more in the gray area, and it is quite possible that they have secrets hiding behind different faces.

The women form a bond through co-parenting, navigating small rations, displaced soldiers who intimidate them on their own land, and their own personal post-war troubles. Benita is a softer woman, easily manipulated. Her demeanor troubles Marianne, who is so adamant about right and wrong. Benita is just seeking solace after the war – she finds love with an ex-Nazi, and Marianne is completely against the arrangement. But Benita asks, “Don’t you want to forget?” She doesn’t want to think about the past any longer, while it seems that Marianne holds on to the past like an anchor, weighing her down.

Ania has her own demons that resurface after the war as well. Finding out her past transgressions, Marianne is judgmental and harsh, again assuming that all situations are dichotomous.

The storyline was riveting, and the characters were staunch. I felt that Benita’s character could have evolved more. I wanted a better ending for her.

The Women in the Castle discusses difficult topics, including the subject of Hitler’s luster as a leader. There is an understanding in the novel that not all of Hitler’s propaganda and shiny promises that enraptured Germany from the beginning came with a heavy hand and clear-cut genocide, but were concealed within promises of a better, more wholesome, self-sufficient country, promises that ordinary people were excited to believe in, hoping for better for their families. There are sides to every story, and this novel forces us to digest that, even if we may not want to remember the uglier sides.

Historical Fiction · Romance

Book Review: A Fire Sparkling by Julianne MacLean

I acquired A Fire Sparkling as an Amazon First Reads book on my Kindle, free with my Amazon prime membership. I never get overly excited about free books, as I feel the stories are usually not that great. A Fire Sparkling was surprisingly charming, intelligent, and heartwarming.

April and Vivian Hughes are identical twins who reunite as World War II picks up speed. Vivian is the wife of a Cabinet Ministry member, and April has just returned from Germany, where she had been involved with a German officer. Sure of his merits as a standup man, regardless of his fighting for the Nazi party, April is convinced that once the war is over, she will be reunited with Ludwig and he will have denounced Germany and Hitler, only having been involved because of his German roots.

Vivian meets a sad fate, and her dying wish is that April will assume her identity. Pregnant with Nazi Ludwig’s child, April is sure to be sent to an internment camp if they figure out her involvement with a German. April grants Vivian’s dying wish and is blessed to live out most of the war without consequence.

Her ability to speak perfect French brings her face first with an opportunity to go undercover as a spy in France at the height of the war, and all secrets are threatened with exposure. April is asked, “You will be living a lie, you must lose yourself completely in another identity. Do you think you will be able to do that?” Her response: ‘Yes,’ I replied with absolute confidence. ‘I know I can.’

I typically don’t enjoy any story that relies on the use of identical twins. It seems like a bit of a lazy way to craft conflict. MacLean is able, however, to create great distinction between April and Vivian. They are two very different characters, and they both have their stories told.

A Fire Sparkling kept me guessing until the end, and had some great modern romance mixed in as well. I thoroughly enjoyed all of the intertwined story-lines and would be quick to read another Julianne MacLean novel in the future.

books · Romance

Book Review: The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah

The Great Alone

Having just finished The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah, I am still trying to dissect my feelings on the novel. Currently, I feel…unsettled.

A coming of age novel about a young girl in the 1970s, Leni Allbright is the daughter of a Vietnam War POW, Ernt Allbright, and his wife Cora. Ernt has just returned home to his wife and daughter, but he’s not the same man who left. The war has transformed Ernt, and not for the better. He is out of money and out of options, having been fired from numerous mechanic jobs.

Ernt has decided to move his family to Alaska, to a small peninsula where a fellow Vietnam soldier has left him a plot of land. Big dreams about the unknown formulate as the Allbright family considers how Alaska could be the answer to their prolonged search for happiness.

While summer in Alaska brings days of unending sunlight and the promise of freedom, the Alaskan winter quickly sets in to foil any hope the Allbrights had for that happiness. Ernt’s moods are unpredictable with the winter weather, and the family is unprepared for harsh Alaskan weather.

Banding together to help the Allbrights prepare, even as Ernt protests outside help, the Kaneq community proves to be a steadying force in Leni’s life. Made up of a motley crew of native Alaskans and those newer to Alaska, the community dynamic was one of my favorite parts of the novel. There’s an understanding of true kindness and goodness that permeates the personal boundaries between neighbors. Alaska may be The Great Alone in many ways, but there is always a helping hand for Leni and Cora when they need it. Their problem is learning how to accept help.

Leni thrives in the wilderness. Ernt teaches his wife and daughter to prepare for the end of the world, which is helpful in the Alaskan wilderness, but it doesn’t protect them from him. Ernt’s dark moods are sudden and he has an insistence that “holier-than-thou” men are trying to destroy Kaneq with money and materialism. Nothing will stop him fom aggressively beating his wife.

Truly, this book gave me a lot of anxiety. Cora and Leni live in a world of fear, constantly afraid of what will set Ernt off and end in bruises for Cora. I was bothered not only by the situation, but by Cora’s insistence that her husband “didn’t mean it” and Leni’s insistence in taking care of her mother. While reading, I just wanted one of them to get. the. hell. out. of. there. They referred to each other as peas in a pod and boy did they mean it. Traditional parent/child roles were switched, and I felt the pain of responsibility on Leni’s shoulders.

Kristin Hannah’s luxurious language and portrait of the Alaskan wilderness is something else, but I was hesitant to enjoy it because of my persistent anxiety over Cora and Leni’s situation. As the reader, you knew that Ernt’s behavior was escalating and was going to climax in possible fatal violence, and because of that, the pretty words about open Alaskan country couldn’t distract me.

Leni falls in love with Matthew Walker, the only other boy her age in school. Their love is young and innocent, but Matthew happens to be the son of Ernt’s largest town rival, sealing Leni and Matthew’s fate as star-crossed lovers. As Ernt falls further and further into delusion about the terrors of the outside world, he builds a wall to keep the world out of their homestead, but in turn, Cora and Leni are trapped. Leni and Cora are forced to leave, and Leni is forced to leave behind everything she cares about in Alaska.

Some of the plot points were unrealistic, but I really did enjoy Leni and Matthew’s relationship, particularly his willingness to help her no matter what the cost.

Ernt and Cora were troubling characters- but they were one of the more realistic parts of the story. Toxic, abusive relationships are sadly very common, and I felt Cora was a true representation of a battered woman. Her flaws were heartbreaking and dangerous.

Leni was set up for failure from the start, but against the Alaskan backdrop, she becomes a resilient force to be reckoned with. She excels in the ways her mother failed. She changes the story. Although this novel filled me with a dread I have rarely felt while reading modern fiction, I enjoyed the story. The story ended with less death than I expected, but one quote from the beginning of the novel caught my eye. As a child, Leni understood death as it was described through books – “a message, catharsis, retribution.” Hannah writes “Death made you cry, filled you with sadness, but in the best of her books, there was peace, too, satisfaction, a sense of the story ending as it should.” The Great Alone provided this satisfaction – a story ending as it should.

books · Historical Fiction

Book Review: The Island of Sea Women by Lisa See

Sometimes, you should judge a book by its cover. This was my favorite book of 2019, and I based my purchase almost entirely on the interesting cover with two old ladies. As I brought the book home, it was a serious underdog, being beat out book after book with others I’d bought and borrowed. Finally, I picked this up last week after buying it at the Tattered Cover Bookstore on vacation in Denver in May. I was not disappointed.

The number of Asian-American coming-of-age books the New York State curriculum force-fed me and my peers in middle and high school (I’m looking at you Joy Luck Club and Memoirs of a Geisha) has conditioned me to avoid Asian literature. I never enjoyed anything that we were told to read. It wasn’t relatable to me and I wrote it off. With the recent resurgence of all different types of multi-cultural fiction, I’ve been trying to diversify the stories I read to incorporate some stuff that might not be the most relatable for me, but is still very worthwhile.

The Island of Sea Women spans pre- World War II and wartime Korea, detailing Korean occupation by the Japanese and by the Allies. Japanese occupation of Korea began in 1910. This story begins with a distinct air of unrest with the Japanese- although there isn’t outright war, the Korean natives stay as far from Japanese insurgents and soldiers as they can.

The body of the story follows two female friends and their journey through life as haenyeo. Haenyeo are female divers who reside on the Korean island of Jeju, where a family living is made primarily by the female mother, who dives into the sea to collect food (primarily seaweed, clams and abalone, but sometimes octopus and larger finds) and other sea life to sell for income. The haenyeo collective is a matriarchal society, one that stands juxtaposed to the male dominated societies of the West, particularly in the 1940s.

First and foremost, I am grateful for having read this book because of what it taught me about Korean history. My grandfather was in the Korean War and I am ashamed to admit I knew close to nothing about the United States’ role in the emancipation of South Korea from Japan and North Korea, never mind anything about Korea itself.

Even better, the story of female friendship between Young-sook and Mi-ja. Mi-ja’s family were Japanese “collaborators” – a term thrown around pretty loosely. Her father worked in a Japanese factory on the Korean mainland. Orphaned at a young age after moving to the island of Jeju with her father, Mi-ja is taken under the wing of Young-sook’s mother, who is the chief of the village diving collective. She teachers the young girls to dive as haenyeo, to provide for their families as true Island women do.

Young-sook and Mi-ja’s lives deviate amidst a backdrop of world war. Mi-ja is arranged to marry a man from a Japanese collaborating family. Her similarities to Young-sook dwindle and Young-sook finds it harder and harder to maintain her sisterhood with Mi-ja.

War strikes the island, bringing tragedy to Young-sook’s family. Her losses are symbolic to her of Mi-ja’s insistence on not helping Young-sook’s family in their time of need. Surely her husband’s political ties could save them all? Her relationship with Mi-ja is never the same.

Haenyeo are known for fortitude, determination and strong will. Young-sook embodies these without apology. It is seen as a benefit for haenyeo to be this way, to endure in the face of adversity, but I think this contributes to Young-sook’s loss of oversight and her inability (or direct negligence) to sympathize with her friend.

There are secrets between Mi-ja and Young-sook that enable them to never understand each other. There is death between them before they can heal their wounds. If Young-sook has been willing and able to embrace her friend in her own lowest time with sympathy rather than judgement, she would have come to easier realizations. Instead she harbors resentments, using her strength of character to put up an impenetrable wall against her friend.

The things lost between them are devastating. In a time when there is infinite loss and terror, two friends are driven further into turmoil, against each other, following societal lines of demarcation.

Lisa See’s novel details the lives of strong, immovable women, women I found to be extremely worthy, laudable, and noble. She highlights, however, how even the most noble can be flawed and can be inhibited from making the best choices as humans, even if they believe they are following an understanding of what’s right.

See’s writing is so enjoyable- like a refreshing dip in the ocean. May we learn from the haenyeo and from these characters something about grit, perseverance, and empathy.

books · Science/ Alternative Fiction

Book Review: The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

There has been a lot of hype around The Handmaid’s Tale lately, particularly in the relativity of this story to modern society and female rights.

My train of contemplation throughout this novel strayed towards human nature: the lack of it, the necessity for it, the justification of it in any and all human societies. What we learn in this novel is that no matter what confines or liberties are put forth to a group of people, or on one person, there is always the uncontrollable element of desire and the inclination towards what is deemed natural.

Nature versus nurture is a long-debated paradox in psychology, but if there was ever a definitive justification for the dominance of nature, it is The Handmaid’s Tale.

Offred is living in the dystopian country of Gilead, where women like her serve one purpose – to reproduce for the family to which they are assigned. Children they bear are not their own, they belong to the “wives” for which they serve.

The society is dominated by archaic rules that condemn women to a life without reading or writing, learning or socializing. Relations between men and women are strictly sexual in scheduled encounters. Though these rules are stringent and the consequences are dire, each character in the novel gives in to their natural desires at some point throughout, giving credence to the idea that although culture can change, human autonomy withstands tests of its strength.

Left wanting more from this novel, I’m looking forward to the sequel that is set to be released in September 2019. I believe that the reasons I’m intrigued, however, resonate with the same inclination towards understanding human nature that the novel surrounds. I have the urge to fit the pieces together and find out how the resolution of conflict plays out in the characters’ lives, rather than a need to understand the potential political upheaval that Atwood creates which could, in our reality, so similarly affect even the most secure of societies.

My interest lies in the humanity- the relationships. Is Offred pregnant? Was her Commander really such a bad guy, or was he primarily good, but drunk with power and circumstance? Does Moira rest on her laurels or continue to fight?

I raced through this book with the constant desire to reach some understanding, I’m not sure of what. I don’t think resolution is really meant to be achieved. This book is not written to make you feel good or resolve fears, but to create them. There is no validation that humanity will will out over any adversity it is faced with. Coming to the close of the story and finding no answers to the great questions of our nature, I moved on, feeling a little deflated and wary of our potential as individuals and as societal beings.

Really interesting and makes me want to have a stern talk with my fiancé about my post-apocalyptic rights.

books · Thriller

Book Review: In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware

In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth WareIn a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware was recommended to me a few years ago, and I just got around to reading it. As psychological thrillers go, it was solid. The plot was original- but something just fell flat for me.

Leonora is a 20-something living in London who has just been invited by an old school friend to attend a hen party (i.e. bachelorette for American folk). She’s confused by the invitation, as she hasn’t talked to Clare, the bride, in years. In the interest of being social and showing up for an old friend, Nora agrees to attend. What ensues is not your typical bachelorette party fun, but sinister.

I did not buy the plot of this novel, personally. If I went to a bachelorette party, and people I knew were acting shady and downright conniving, I would immediately be on the offensive. Nora is drawn further into herself, doubting her senses and making it easy for her to be taken advantage of.

All of Nora’s issues seem to stem from Clare- her treatment of Nora years ago, and secrets that will come out in the wash. This is a fun story, regardless of believability.

books · Memoir

Book Review: Stay Sexy & Don’t Get Murdered by Georgia Hardstark and Karen Kilgariff

As much as I love the podcast My Favorite Murder, I didn’t have high expectations for their debut book, Stay Sexy & Don’t Get Murdered. The podcast with a cult following is entertaining as hell, and I’ve been following Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark for some time now and although I love their podcast and hearing from them every week, I was very hesitant to get excited about this book. Boy was I wrong.

The book is a joint memoir written from both of their perspectives in sections framed by popular sayings on their show like “stay out of the forest,” and “f*** politeness,” urging women to protect themselves first. The stories these women choose to tell are enlightening and explain how society has shaped them into the people they are today, for better and for worse. Not lacking in curses and exclamations, the book stays true to their authentic style. You can tell they have written the chapters because as a fan, you’ve been listening to their voice, their point of view, for so long.

On the surface, Karen and Georgia have led privileged lives. Two girls from California with middle class families. I’ve led a privileged life as well and I have always said that my life is not something I think anyone would want to read about. Middle class white girl. Not creative. There’s not enough grit. There’s not enough hardship. Karen and Georgia have changed my mind about that.

Karen and Georgia’s life affirming experiences could be considered “white people problems” from afar. Karen details her struggles with alcoholism, speed and diet pills. Georgia, her issues stemming from her parents divorce, childhood rebellion and drugs, anxiety, and ADHD. Both of them struggled with eating disorders. It all sounds basic and privileged but after engrossing myself in the story there were some extremely hard hitting stories that brought up emotions that I recognized within myself. And yeah, maybe some of that comes from privilege, but suffering is suffering. Struggles with mental health are real struggles. Hearing two women validate these struggles and honor them as difficult and painful was refreshing. They don’t preface anything with “I know people have it worse” or “I’m sorry for complaining, I know I’m lucky.” They speak their truth without apology. Which, I realized, is not just what we want as females, but what we need.

We need women who are going to bite the bullet and speak up about the things that may seem mundane and small, but that are factors of our lives that make them hard.

Georgia and Karen are such good role models. And I say that without anything held back. They teach us that being yourself is the most important truth and that doing that isn’t easy. Reading this book felt like getting a hug from a best friend, someone that is very much like yourself. And that’s why I won’t doubt myself, or my story, again. Because if Karen and Georgia can tell theirs, so can I. And I know they’d be happy to hear that.

books · Mystery

Book Review: Miracle Creek by Angie Kim

Oops, I did it again. I got overly excited about a book with rave reviews, a book that’s absolutely blowing up online and on social media, and I got a little let down. Miracle Creek has been #1 on my TBR list for awhile and I’m a little bummed that I wasn’t totally into it. However, there are a lot of redeeming qualities to this book and I did enjoy it! Just maybe not as much as I hoped.

The story follows a family of immigrants from Seoul and a few other key characters as they navigate the aftermath of an explosion and a subsequent murder trial. The Paks own “Miracle Submarine,” a hyperbaric oxygen chamber that is used to treat a variety of medical conditions, including the symptoms of autism, cerebral palsy, and infertility.

Although some consider the oxygen treatment to be “quack” medicine, the Paks are excited to finally be living their American dream and hoping for the success of the future.

The author of the novel, Angie Kim, does an excellent job telling the story from multiple point of views. This writing technique upped the mystery and enticed the reader to understand how the crime possibly could have been committed by multiple characters in the novel. Each POV showed the motivations of a different character. 

Kim’s overarching and triumphant rhetoric on motherhood throughout the story is overwhelmingly troubling, but it’s also raw and shows a masterful understanding of the complexities of being a mother. She taps into the varying emotions of love, unquestioning devotion, but also the moments of weakness that motherhood forces one to confront: pain, hatred, and the occasional desire to be free of the tether of having a child.

Elizabeth’s story, however troubling, elucidates an ever-shamed aspect of motherhood. Her story brings the question of what constitutes abuse to the forefront. In today’s cultural climate, one that simultaneously shames women for breastfeeding but also hinders the rights of women to conceive, raise and treat their children, this story line was eyeopening and necessary.

Elizabeth, the mother of an autistic child, Henry, is accused of his murder. Without physical evidence, the prosecution resorts to attacking the way she has cared for his child over the course of his life. She’s subjected him to alternative therapies for his autism, treatment after treatment, to try to perfect his focus, his speech, his attention to detail, and his behavior itself. Her near-obsessive desire to “fix” Henry becomes the sole argument, the most damning evidence against her – deemed as “unnecessary” and overkill. Henry was getting better, why was she trying to make him perfect?

Elizabeth’s inner debate is fascinating. She questions herself. The conversation stemming from Elizabeth’s plight makes for great food for thought. Although some of the other characters fell a bit flat for me, I thought Kim’s personification of “the mother” through multiple characterizations showed how motherhood is different for everyone, there is no right way to parent, and those that force their opinion on other parents are often doing more harm than good.

Fantasy · Mystery

Book Review: Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield

The river knows the secrets of small towns, and they won’t stay secrets long.

I initially became interested in Diane Setterfield when hearing the rave reviews about Once Upon a River. Not being able to get my hands on the book right away (moving expenses make it hard to buy new hardcover releases!) I settled on purchasing The Thirteenth Tale.

Although similar, Once Upon a River was miles above and, in my opinion, showcases how an author can grow and come into their craft.  

The story started slow, with such an elaborate cast of characters, introductions were lengthy and tiresome.  I wasn’t overly excited from the first few chapters.

What resonated in this novel, compounded by my reading of Setterfield’s works before, is that her writing is symbolic – sometimes overly so. In The Thirteenth Tale I was exhausted by it. I felt like the message was being beat into me. But in this novel, she really embraces the idea of the river as a focal point for the story. The tale flowed, indeed, like a river.

The Thames is the soul of several separate, intricate stories, but as Setterfield points out, it could be any river and this story could take place in any town. She writes, “And now, dear reader, the story is over. It is time for you to cross the bridge once more and return to the world you came from. This river, which is and is not the Thames, must continue flowing without you. You have haunted here long enough, and besides, you surely have rivers of your own to attend to?”

I love the addressing of the reader, the inclusion creating a prescient atmosphere. Setterfield attempts to bring a story to life as something that lives and breathes, and she achieves it. Her snaking, slick storytelling is a microcosm of the tale itself. Storytelling exists in this book in it’s most enticing form: from beginning to end, wrought with details and imagery. She leaves no stone unturned.

It is almost as if she biographizes the story: she plays with how a story is created, how a story is told and digested, how a story evolves, and how those whom the story touches evolve as well.

Like her emphasis on the symbolism of the river, Setterfield also explores the topic of duality, and how we as humans reach for the familiar even when we know it isn’t real or appropriate. We cling to mimicry in the hope that our past loves, losses, and comforts will return to us.

Setterfield stays away from the mundane, and draws the story to a satisfying conclusion without compromising realism. The mystical and magical elements and drivers in the novel act as catalysts for the characters to find their happiness in the actuality of their lives and their existence, rather than letting them lose themselves in illusion.

Above all, Setterfield has created a story, a realistic one, where real people find their happy endings in the face of adversity. Don’t we all love that?

Beach Reads · Romance

Book Review: The Simple Wild by K.A. Tucker

The Simple Wild - K.A. Tucker
A city girl stuck in the Alaskan bush. What could go wrong?

In the past two weeks, I’ve read books set in the Australian outback, the islands of the Azores off Portugal and the Alaskan bush. Books really do allow you to travel the world! The Simple Wild by K.A. Tucker was refreshing, a light, pithy, romantic ride that satisfies the need for some romance reading.

Calla Fletcher is a mid-twenties girl, freshly fired from a bank job, who finds out that her long-lost father, who resides in Alaska, has lung cancer. The story of their reunion is the classic redemption tale – it’s poignant, heartbreaking, and well done. I really enjoyed it.

One issue I took with this book is Calla is made out to be a narcissistic bi*** in the beginning (that’s fine, we all know those people do exist) but she makes a total 180 into a flannel-wearing, no-makeup having lover of a bearded, lumberjack Alaskan man. He teaches her the true meaning of family and love and blah blah. I did really like their story, it just wasn’t thoroughly original.

Overall The Simple Wild kept me entertained and hooked on the characters. A nice segue into light summer reading.