The Devotion of Suspect X

Review: 3 stars

Since moving out to Oakville, I have been looking for a great book club to join. After digging around, I wasn’t able to find any group that really matched what I was looking for - acclaimed reads, literary discussion and serious book lovers. A book club based in Toronto ended up hitting the mark - and I read ‘The Devotion of Suspect X’ with every intention of making the late evening trek out to join the discussion last night…only to be foiled by kidcare duty for my two rambunctious little ones.

‘The Devotion of Suspect X’ is one in a series of sophisticated and well-written whodunnits by Keigo Higashino, featuring a brilliant professor Yukawa and his shrewd detective friend Kusanagi. After a single mother, Yasuko, murders her abusive ex-husband in the opening chapters of this mystery, the reader embarks with her on a tense and cerebral journey to avoid capture by the police. She is aided by an oddball fairy godmother in the shape of her heavyset, middle-aged, taciturn neighbour Ishigami. He harbours ritual adoration for Yasuko, and channels his affection into helping to conceal the murder and create a trail of deflection for Kusanagi to erroneously follow. The novelty and brilliance of the story surfaces in the chessboard that Ishigami has set up for the detectives and his old college compatriot - Yukawa. Ishigami consistently outsmarts them through details and tactics, ending with a mind-bending caper that has all but Yukawa fooled.

Additional tension is injected as Yasuko begins to feel affection for an old acquaintance - Kudo. Once Ishigama learns of this budding sentiment, his purist devotion is put to the test. Yasuko, who once feared the shackles of prison, begins instead to fear that she must cage her heart in order to maintain her physical freedom.

I found ‘The Devotion of Suspect X’ to be an easy, enjoyable read with a clever premise, and enough suspense to keep me engaged throughout. I did feel it to be lacking additional depth (e.g., exploration of more universal themes, innovative narration), and aside from Ishigami, the remainder of the characters were relatively flat. Not a regrettable read at all, but also unlikely to be one that I remember in years to come.

Your Utopia

Review: 3 stars

It certainly has been a while - almost 3 years since my last post. Given how hectic it is having 2 young kids and a demanding job, it has been difficult to steal away time to archive my reading. Given a relative lull in the chaos for the next few months, I recommitted to sharing my favourite (and not so favourite) reads.

I have been rediscovering the public library with my family, and visits to the Central Branch just minutes from our house have been nostalgic. I remember going with my sisters and my mom when I was younger, hungry for the endless possibilities and underrated gems found in the library stacks. I truly aspired to be a librarian when I “grew up”, mostly in hopes of unilaterally waiving all my overdue book fees. I came across ‘Your Utopia’ on the “New Books” shelf at my library. I was delighted because I have been wanting to read Bora Chung’s work since I saw her books featured in a display at Foyles in London. I also have been very intrigued by Asian translated literature and short stories as of late, so this was the perfect choice.

‘Your Utopia’ is a selection of futuristic vignettes that explore the relationship between technology and humans, and essentially where one ends and the other begins. The opener - “The Center for Immortality Research” - stylistically reminds me of the author’s voice in ‘The Sympathizer’. Our matter-of-fact narrator is a senior manager deep down the food chain at a pharma conglomerate’s immortality research centre. She finds herself in increasingly ludicrous situations ranging from fending off a National Assembly candidate (an immortality zealot), to aiding and abetting the theft of commemorative DVDs amidst a knife attack. I found myself laughing aloud in the coffee shop at the dry humour permeating the story, and lamenting how corporate life can feel like a life sentence - even for those who are not immortal.

My favourite stories were “An Ordinary Marriage” and “The End of the Voyage.” In the latter, a COVID-inspired Zombie affliction - ‘The Disease’ - sweeps Earth, and humanity’s last hope is to send into space a pod of scientists, engineers and military personnel to avoid infection. What ensues is an onslaught of dark, bloody fiction, culminating in spontaneous cannibalism, hyperspace travel and mutiny. While the plot itself is not novel (imagine The Walking Dead meets Star Trek), it is the confidence with which Chung propels the reader to evermore fantastical and disgusting corners. For me, it drew real parallels with the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, when we secretly asked ourselves questions like" “Is it just easier to be part of the infected masses, instead of perpetually looking over your shoulder?” and “How much isolation can we get used to? Is our human tendency to adapt and survive a good thing?”.

While this read is not for everyone, I found the stories very entertaining, creative and thought provoking. I finished the book within a day. From a reader’s perspective, not every story was uniformly polished and the afterword from the author felt overly explanatory. However, on the whole, it left me curious to read Chung’s ‘Cursed Bunny’ - the more critically acclaimed sister to ‘Your Utopia’.

The Great Believers | poignant, empathetic, engrossing

Review: 3 stars

I embarked on a spree of reading National Book Award winners and finalists, given my luck with 'A Little Life' and 'Pachinko', which were both 5-star reads for me. I was excited to have a chance while on vacation in Italy over the summer to read 'The Great Believers' by Rebecca Makkai.

'The Great Believers' is jointly told by Yale Tishman, a gay art curator in 1980s Chicago, and Fiona Marcus, Yale's friend, who travels to Paris in search of her estranged daughter. It is a story about those whom we've lost, and those who are left behind - and the debate over which constitutes the more tragic life lived. The novel anchors around the friendships, betrayals and the inexorable march of death as AIDS claims one life after another. The novel's intensity reflects the pacing of a horror film; the reader is constantly puzzling over which character's actions will drive him to be the next victim of the pandemic. Fiona, who ends up being an end-of-life character to many of the friends over time, remarks at one point that "they were walking every day through streets where there had been a holocaust, a mass murder of neglect and antipathy". I invested heavily in Yale's character, whose sense of morality and nobleness appear to be a salve against the affliction felling his dearest friends. We travel with him as he experiences heartbreak, success and failure, all the while fearing what his eventual diagnosis will be.

Makkai has resurrected many survivor stories from that period, and woven them into a two-part narrative that commemorates those who were lost and never fully grieved over given social stigma of the time. The novel is well researched, respectful and successfully balanced between male and female perspectives.

Overall, I found Yale's plot more compelling and emotionally arresting than Fiona's, and caught myself several times reading rather quickly through Fiona's narratives. That said, this was a solid, sobering read for those interested in contemporary historical and LGBTQ fiction.

My Absolute Darling | raw, violent, unflinching

Review: 3 stars

‘My Absolute Darling’ was one of NPR’s top picks for 2017, and also earned rave reviews from Stephen King, who crowned it a ‘masterpiece’. ‘Turtle’ Alveston is our hard-edged teenage narrator - molded in the unforgiving ways of survivalist living by her emotionally, physically and sexually abusive father, Martin. The theme of hunter and prey pervades throughout the novel . Turtle, for all her fierceness and strength, cannot break free from her father’s psychological hunting grounds. She degrades her own worth, appearance and intellect to match the level of depravity Martin bestows upon her. Turtle is not immediately conscious of her victimization, her shame, nor her role in the ongoing abuse, but she is shocked time again back to reality by the new levels of cruelty Martin achieves.

The novel is a very uncomfortable read, and intentionally so. Tallent includes scenes such as Martin forcing Turtle to do pull ups, dangling above a knife, in addition to the attempted rape of a 10-year old girl. Turtle is inadvertently saved with a chance encounter with two schoolmates - Jacob and Brett - who bring her back into the orbit of normalcy. The development of a crush on Jacob and the simple desire to attend a high school dance are events that bring the extremity of Turtle’s double-life into sharp relief, and compel her to save herself. The climax is incredibly vivid, action-packed and thriller-like - with the stakes of Martin and Turtle’s cat and mouse relationship elevated to all-time highs.

Tallent is a very ambitious writer for tackling a tale of this complexity and difficulty, told from a vantage point so different from his own. There are quiet scenes he includes, that speak to Turtle’s true character beyond the abuse (which can tend to be buried at times). Take for example, the care and art with which she cleans her guns, or seasons the cast iron skillet - signs of her fastidiousness, pride. Her character-defining arc is anchored in her evolving relationship with Cayenne, the young girl Martin grooms as Turtle’s successor. Seeing the abuse play out on another human is what catalyzes Turtle to no longer accept her reality as fixed.

I found the novel powerful and disturbing, and do not recommend it for the faint of heart, or those looking for a light read. It can be dark and offensive, but is one novelist’s perspective on what female strength looks like, and how complex relationships can be.

Three Women | revealing, fragile, yearning

Review: 3 stars

‘Three Women’ was featured as one of Indigo’s top 10 books of the year, and I picked it up, intrigued by Taddeo’s journalistic angle on female sexuality. This bestselling non-fiction book follows three women - Maggie, Sloan and Lina - and their complicated relationship with intimacy and physicality through nearly a decade.

We meet Maggie at the tender age of 17, who is rapidly exploring her sexuality. After a prior relationship with an older man while vacationing in Hawaii, she begins falling into a tangled romantic relationship with Aaron Knodel, her high school English teacher. This marks the beginning of Maggie’s unravelling - of her future, her reputation, and her confidence in love. Knodel is portrayed as a charismatic trapper of Maggie’s heart, initiating texts, hours-long midnight conversations and a transgressive encounter at his family’s home. Taddeo deftly surfaces Maggie’s anguish when Knodel abruptly ends the relationship. Maggie is devastated to her core that her lover has spurned her, an emotion that overwhelms a more rational epiphany that her youth and caprice has been marred by an older, more powerful, advantaged man.

Lina and Sloan similarly lead lives of deception, torment and ecstasy, bringing sex lives that are indecent in the eyes of society, into the bright of day for examination, but even more for empathy. A key message of Taddeo’s is that how we choose to experience sexuality is wholly our own. That when women feel heartbreak, lust and adoration, that we are making ourselves vulnerable to pain, and should not be judged, especially by other women, each living their own truth.

I did find myself fighting impulsive questions of ‘Is she at fault for this?’ and ‘How could she do this to another woman?’. Yet this is the deftness of Taddeo’s journalistic magic - she brings the full perspective of each protagonist, such that I was forced to delay reaction, and instead pursue contemplation. This is a highly readable and pulsating piece of journalism. I did however find that it was not as impactful to my outlook on life, despite its candour and unique subject matter. I was asked by my sister-in-law over the break whether I had read anything great lately, and this novel simply slipped by mind. However, this is a solid pick for any man or woman who is looking for an engaging non-fiction read.

Where the Crawdads Sing | enchanting, romantic, effervescent

Review: 3 stars

‘Where the Crawdads Sing’ has been so widely promoted that I actively avoided reading it because I assumed it would be a bit of a throwaway novel. A much-vaulted pick as part of Reese Witherspoon’s Hello Sunshine Book Club, this novel by Delia Owens was marketed as a romance-whodunit-ode to nature. Finally, intrigued by the unbelievably positive reviews, I decided to purchase a copy from Indigo.ca.

I am glad I didn’t let my initial judgement get the better of me, because I found ‘Where the Crawdads Sing’ to truly be an incredibly meditative homage to America’s swamplands, Geography that is typically thought of as dank, dark and bereft of elegance is recast by Owens as mystical, temperamental and bewitching. Owen’s training as a wildlife scientist shines through unabashedly in how she paints the unrelenting afternoon sun and dazzling dusk skies of the North Carolina coastal marshlands.

Kya, our heroine, is known by the townsfolk as ‘The Swamp Girl’, reviled for her wayward barefoot lifestyle and completely misunderstood. As she is abandoned by her family one by one, she learns to rely only on herself - catching bait to trade for goods at Jumpin’s general store, cooking grits day in and day out for each meal, learning how to maintain the house. The story blossoms into a beautiful adolescent romance when Kya finally allows herself to depend on Tate. First to learn how to read, then to make sense of the natural world around her by naming species, and ultimately to care for her wary, scarred heart. The simplicity and honesty of their love is one element of the novel that makes the book such a compulsive read, and its subsequent unravelling is truly heartbreaking.

From there, the plot evolves into a murder mystery - Chase Andrews, the town alpha male, and Kya’s secret suitor, is found dead below a water tower. Suspicion swings to focus on Kya despite a paucity of evidence, and so begins a trial pitting town against marsh, law against nature and prejudice against girl. Owens is most successful when she is in her own comfort zone - evoking the unassuming charm of the woodlands she is so familiar with. In contrast, passages that elucidate the town’s hunt for justice and the court proceedings feel more mechanical and plot driven.

‘Where the Crawdads Sing’ is an easy, worthwhile read that helps impart a greater appreciation for America’s diverse natural geography and for those who choose to live a noble life amongst creatures not humans.

The Spy and the Traitor | cinematic, historic, thriller

Review: 3 stars

I’ve been on a book-buying binge recently, and picked up “The Spy and the Traitor” recently at the Indigo Spirit at First Canadian Place during Black Friday,. A guaranteed read by Heather Reisman, Indigo’s Chief Book Lover, I was intrigued by the promise of ‘the best true spy story”.

This book is a non-fiction account of Oleg Gordievsky, a Soviet KGB officer turned MI6 undercover spy, and his distinctive place in Cold War history. A man of duelling loyalties with a strong KGB heritage, events such as the Berlin Wall and the Russian quashing of Czech protests orient him increasingly towards the West. His posting to Denmark brings his oppressive Soviet life into stark contrast with the bustling, colourful richesse of the West, and a chance outreach by MI6 confirms his full conversion to covert spy.

Ego and fear rule Soviet bureaucracy and the espionage machinery - which results in a number of lucky breaks for Gordievsky as he climbs through the ranks of the KGB, becoming the Resident-Designate of the London cell. The inability to admit fault and a culture of alcoholism and sloth were surprising to me, given the dominant reputation of the KGB. As Gordievsky increasingly gains access to national secrets, and divulges them line by line to the British, the stakes climb ever higher, making the far-fetched PIMLICO evacuation plan for Gordievsky ever more important.

The narrative moves at a quick pace, spending sufficient time setting up Gordievsky’s childhood, his influential friendships, his marriages (which were themselves an art in deception) and the coincidences and tight orchestration that led to his unique role in the Cold War. I found myself restraining from scanning the rest of the page during key moment of betrayal or potential exposure. I also found myself in deep admiration for the dedication the MI6 apparatus had towards maintaining Gordievsky’s safety - for example - staking the evacuation signal sight for weeks before and after Gordievsky’s visits back to Moscow.

I did wish for less repetition about Gordievsky’s upbringing (i.e., religious grandmother, militant KGB father) and about his role in diverting all-out nuclear war between U.S. and the Soviet Union (which felt overblown in proportion). That said, it is undeniable that the Queen of England, Margaret Thatcher and other key world leaders were influenced by the intel imparted by Gordievsky’s efforts. There is also some poetic elegance in the parallel stories of the CIA mole and Gordievsky, and how despite our sympathies for the latter, both in fact betrayed multiple countrymen in pursuit of what each sought as “justice”.

Lots in here for fans of spy novels, conspiracies and non-fiction adventure. I would recommend ‘The Spy and the Traitor’ to those who want a light, true-story read, and how may have a keen interest in learning more about the Soviet Union.

Macbeth | clever, bloodthirsty, corruptive

Review: 3 stars

My good friend Patrick, with whom I exchange books every Christmas, recently became a father! In advance of being sucked into the black hole of parenthood, he gifted me ‘Macbeth’, a very apt selection given I’m a fan of Nesbo’s “Harry Hole” series.

‘Macbeth’ is a modern day retelling of Shakespeare’s tragic classic - this time set in a drug-plagued 1970s small Norwegian town. The main players are all present, from Macbeth (a high-performing “SWAT” team leader), Banquo (his “trusty” sidekick), to Duncan (head of the police force). Nesbo makes clever reference to the original cast and circumstances, while ensuring his own story maintains its fidelity. For example, Hecate is now recast as the lord of a mysterious drug ring, selling “brew”, and his workforce is comprised of blind Chinese workers - an interpretation on the other blind witches who cast Macbeth’s fate. Lady Macbeth, assumes the mononym “Lady”, and as the fiery proprietor of a high-end casino in town, propels her lover Macbeth to maddening heights of power.

I last studied Macbeth in ninth-grade English class, so it was truly nostalgic to read Nesbo’s version. His elaboration on each character’s back stories created much rounder characters of the secondary cast - Duff, Lady and Banquo are each imbued with noble ambitions and self-destructive flaws. I found myself constantly shifting allegiances to the characters as I learned more about the regrets and motivations that defined each. This made it difficult sustain my sense of “true North”, which Nesbo offers to define as the betterment of the town and its people. The novel also poses the central question of what does “good” truly look like, when leaders trade one gang for another and claim victory for one population while sacrificing another. A question of democracy and transparency vs. efficient autocracy also arises - when is it rational for a leader who can truly effect change, to turn to mercenary means to achieve them? Does that in and of itself negate that leader’s progress towards good?

I thoroughly enjoyed this read. As always, Nesbo delivers high-octane plot development and careless bloodshed in this “game of thrones” thriller. HIs descriptive writing heightens the readers’ senses - placing us firmly in the rain-drenched chill of the Fife container yard, or in the backyard after a family’s massacre; the wet laundry still listing in the breeze, pockmarked with bullet holes. There are a few flaws - for example, the positioning of the various antagonists in the final battle scene is difficult to render, the interjections of the supernatural feel tangential, and the repeated missteps of a modern, well-equipped police force are not credible. However, by in large, ‘Macbeth’ gave me several days of engrossed, page turning escape, which was exactly what I was looking for.

The Immortalists | fatalist, enchanting, tender

Review: 3 stars

My office recently relocated close by BMVQ - what an amazing coincidence! On one of my walks home, I took a roundabout way and just happened to find myself grabbing a flat white and croissant at Praise Patisserie, which is the coffee shop at the back of BMVQ. I also took a gander at the staff picks bookshelf, and lingered on “The Immortalists”, before ultimately buying it.

The novel is segmented into four parts, each starring one of the Gold siblings. Preceding this quartet of life is a prologue, which sets up the alluring premise of the novel. The Golds visit a mystical forecaster of death, who provides each child with their expiration date. The central question is posed: how would you live your life, if you knew the date of your death? We explore this through the trials and tribulations of Simon, Klara, Daniel and Varya, and how a date shapes their destinies and longevity.

I found the novel immensely readable, and at points I had to pace myself from reading too quickly as each character hurtles towards their inexorable end. I inwardly pled with Simon and Klara to embrace safety and convention as their compounding decisions pushed each of them closer to fates that seemed fully avoidable. By the other hand, I found myself criticizing Varya’s chosen path - one that was awash in sterility and single-minded in its intent to avoid errors. At the conclusion - the reader is easily faced with a multitude of questions: Does the scale tip in favour of free will or predetermined destiny? What makes a life worth living? How does immortality express itself - through longevity, memory, legend, art, story?

Benjamin’s writing is most poignant when she employs the metaphor of the monkey longevity experiment - which tests the hypothesis of whether severe diet restriction can lengthen life exponentially. The scene where Varya experiences an epiphany with Frida, a monkey for which she has deep affection for, is one of the most searing, extracting heightened angst and reflection from the reader.

The sibling narrative also rang very true for me. As the middle sister in a family of three, I understand how time and distance can separate, but also how the bonds of childhood endure. I cannot shape my siblings’ decisions anymore than they can shape mine, as we are now each adults with separate daily orbits of people, dilemmas and opportunities. However, our shared stories and memories are what tie us inextricably to one another, and what compels us to help one another reach what we each perceive to be “success”, however conventional or unconventional our definitions are.

Overall, I would recommend this as a thought-provoking and relatively easy read, with a captivating, well-paced plot.

Asymmetry | inventive, intelligent, metafiction

Review: 3 stars

I returned to work in November of last year, and while I’ve kept up with my reading, I haven’t with my blogging! Catching up now, I’ll start with Asymmetry, which had been on my radar for the past few months. I was very taken by the beautiful cover design, and it also helped that it was on the NYT 10 Best Books of 2018 list.

Asymmetry is the debut novel by Lisa Halliday, and upon initial examination, appears to be two completely disparate stories bound together only by the printing process. The novel opens with “Folly”, a chapter that outlines the whimsical, entirely charming encounter between Alice, an impressionable young writer, and Ezra Blazer, an acclaimed author in his sunset years. Their romance unfurls with the lovely nostalgia of knowing that the golden years are here and soon to fade. Little traditions like baseball games and blackout cookies bring their relationship startlingly to life. However, as much as you want Ezra and Alice to succeed, there is something that nags at you and forces you to probe beneath their quirky affection for one another.

This is where asymmetry as a theme first emerges. Ezra’s “education” of Alice begins gradually, but soon overwhelms. His age, wealth, worldliness and renown make themselves conspicuous. He gives her money with specific spending guidelines, instructs her to buy clothing from S-E-A-R-L-E, annoyingly spells out words for her, dials her at will from a “CALLER ID BLOCKED” number, gives her a list of canonical literature to read, so on and so forth. Although Alice is our protagonist, we are always one step removed from her emotions. She effaces herself from the reader similar to how she dissolves herself into Ezra’s preferred, haute ways of living. An event as traumatic as an abortion earns little less than a passing mention, which is both how Alice and the reader experience the act. When Ezra asks “Do you ever think this isn’t good for you?”, Alice answers immediately that “it’s very good” for her. The richness of Alice’s youth, talent and character are exploited and under-appreciated, and we wonder whether she will ever emerge from Ezra’s shadow to explore her full potential.

This question seemingly goes unanswered through the next two segments of the novel. The first, titled “Madness”, is a story of identity and brotherhood narrated by Amar, an Iraqi-American. The latter is an interview conducted between a BBC host and Ezra, where he relays the soundtrack to his life. “Madness” is a sophisticated exploration of Amar’s connections to Iraq and the experiences of being a man of his heritage, amidst today’s backdrop of ethic suspicion. Halliday’s odd choice of narrator and country are what make this chapter the most astounding. The vividness of Amar’s memories, his culture and his loyalties are truly authentic. Even as I found myself disengaging from this chapter due to lack of common ground, I realized this was the savvy of Halliday’s writing. She had created a narrative so real, in a tone so utterly different from the preceding chapter, that I found the transition jarring and difficult to continue reading with the same mindset.

While the metafiction aspects of the novel and semi-autobiographical details are what have been hailed as a “literary phenomenon” by critics, the connection truly is easy to miss. I won’t reveal it here, but while I found the concept certainly clever, I was simultaneously unconvinced by the true merit of the novel’s structure. It does create a more cerebral read, but the thread between the various segments were so tenuous, that I could not appreciate it during the reading itself.

Little Fires Everywhere | relatable, tender, detailed

Review: 3 stars

I loved Celeste Ng’s ‘Everything I Never Told You’, so I eagerly grabbed her sophomore novel, ‘Little Fires Everywhere’ when it came out. I’m also trying to read more from Asian authors, so this was a great fit for my booklist.

Ng sets her story in Shaker Heights, a meticulously designed neighbourhood in Ohio, her native state. It follows the collision of two families - the Richardsons and the Warrens - and the consequences that arise as each member pursues their selfish interests. The conflicts begin small and crescendo quickly - a hidden teenage affair, a regretful abortion, an adoption controversy, a stolen surrogate baby. The drama ignites and grows into a blazing conflagration by the end, forcing Mia and Pearl Warren to flee town in haste, to the devastation of the four Richardson children.

I found Ng’s writing to be particularly powerful when delving into the pasts of Mia Warren and Elena Richardson, the two matriarchs in the story. She deftly captures the faded could-have-beens for each woman, rendering them as more than mothers. Elena’s epiphany as to why she holds her daughter, Izzy, at such arm’s length also rings with brilliant truth. Sometimes when we are threatened with the loss of something, we try not to love it too much for fear of pain. Ng also is a capable juggler - using Bebe Chow and Linda McCullough’s custody battle for a Chinese baby to further increase antagonistic tensions between the primary families.

You can read Little Fires Everywhere and easily relate to something in it - either the Asian-American immigrant experience, teenage angst, or secrets in one’s past, Perhaps the most relatable element of all is Elena’s articulation of what so many of us feel and practice in daily life: “…passion, like fire, was a dangerous thing. It so easily went out of control…Sparks leapt like fleas and spread as rapidly…Better to control that spark and pass it carefully from one generation to the next…Carefully controlled. Domesticated. Happy in captivity.” As Elena nurses her single flame, her daughter Izzy defies all rules and sets the world ablaze. Perhaps the novel is an ode to how our lives of normalcy are just waiting to be set ablaze by something, or someone.

I enjoyed much of the novel, but felt that the adolescent storylines lapsed into well-tread territory, with little left to discover. I would’ve also liked Elena to have been a more redeeming character earlier on. Her foray into villainy flattens the great character development we have from learning about her past. Although the novel reads as a thriller at times, it lacked the surprise and originality of Ng’s debut novel, which I had so loved. In particular, Mia’s revelation, which the entire story builds up to, seemed to me a let-down once unveiled. I don’t doubt that this novel will have many admirers, but for me, it fell short of a spectacular read.

Bellevue Square | eery, otherworldly, unsettling

Review: 3 stars

My friend Patrick and I have a lovely Christmas tradition. We gift each other our most anticipated read, or our favourite read from the past year. Over the years, he’s sent me some great choices, and this year, he opted for ‘Bellevue Square’ by Michael Redhill.

Redhill has written a cerebral thriller in which the credibility of our narrator, Jean Mason, is questioned throughout the novel. Jean lives a fairly ordinary life in Toronto, until she discovers from chance acquaintances that she has a doppelgänger that frequents Bellevue Square, and that myth has it only one of the doppelgängers can exist in the physical world. This news ignites Jean’s all-consuming hunt for her look-a-like, Ingrid. Jean works with a band of haphazard characters that frequent the square to unravel this mystery. We soon learn that Jean suffers from mental illness, and that is when we begin to question the veracity of her commentary and whether we, the readers, are being duped ourselves. The novel pulses towards an inexorable face-off between the Jean and Ingrid, in which only one can survive.

The premise of the novel is original, but at times gimmicky, and Redhill takes many pains to elevate the suspense of the novel. He guides the reader unwittingly to invest deeply in Jean’s character, which I think is a wholly successful rendering. We empathize with her struggle to appear ‘normal’ to her sons and husband, and are impressed by the ease with which she slips into the patchwork fabric of Toronto’s underbelly. This outpour of support for Jean is what makes the twist in the end quite dramatic. The finale unravels our notion of who, or what, Jean really is and prompts us to shift our sympathies to Ingrid.

While the ending is intriguing and refreshing to me, I found that there were a few doldrums in the novel, when pace fell off and my interest waned. I would’ve appreciated more time allotted to the hasty ending to explore the questions of reality and existence that Redhill launches with pages left to go. Overall, this was a good read with a well-developed protagonist, but fell short for me on a few other dimensions.