Exhalation | visionary, brilliant, inquiring

Review: 5 stars

‘Exhalation’ was named one of New York Times’ 10 Best Books of 2019, and was also a top recommendation from President Obama, so it naturally was very high on my to-read list for 2020. It is an anthology for 9 short stories, written by Ted Chiang, who is best known for ‘Stories of Your Life and Others’, which was the inspiration for the film ‘Arrival’.

This collection of vignettes was incredibly provocative, original and multi-layered. Every story gave me pause at the end, and left me feeling incomplete - hungry for debate and conversation. The depth of the theses and the seamless blend of humanity and science fiction imbued me with curiosity and wonderment.

The questions Chiang raises are not for the faint of heart:

• What rights and protections do artificial intelligence creations deserve, and should they be given legal representation and free will?

• If simultaneous infinite worlds do exist - does each represent a separate unique permutation of our character, or is our character anchored in something deeper, thereby limiting the possibilities for how our lives are lived, and who we become?

• If technology becomes available to replay every instant of your life from multiple people’s perspectives - how would that influence our relationships and our self perceptions?

‘The Merchant and the Alchemist’s Gate’ was one of my favourites, exploring the limits of free will and how far the past can bend without truly changing. ‘The Lifecycle of Software Objects’ was an incredibly ambitious and successful exploration of truly next-order moral questions surrounding AIs, and how the ebb and flow of digital worlds (i.e., software products) have existentialist impacts on their digital citizens. ‘Omphalos’ was eye-opening in its depiction of a human-centric universe founded on young-earth creationism, and what this universe would rely on to craft is founding story (e.g., humans without navels, trees without age rings). The idea that evolution did not exist, but that there were primordial humans, trees, and animals - mature from the split second of divine creation, felt incredibly modern to explore.

I mentioned to my husband that Exhalation reads like the best episodes of ‘Black Mirror’, written simply, gracefully and bound to be fodder for endless dinner conversations. I enjoyed it immensely, and cannot wait to recommend it to others.

A Gentleman in Moscow | elegant, charming, witty

Review: 4 stars

Our household has been practicing social distancing for the past month, which just so happens to overlap with the first few weeks of my maternity leave. It’s definitely an uncertain time right now with COVID-19 spreading within our communities. In the days before the birth of my daughter, I opted for a light-hearted read - ‘A Gentleman in Moscow’ - which my friend Patrick gave me in our annual Christmas book exchange.

Coincidentally, this novel is about self-isolation of sorts - it centers around Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov, a former aristocrat sentenced to house arrest in the Metropol Hotel for penning a verse offensive to the Bolshevik movement. So begins a decades-long tale of old-world charm, pivoting circumstances and heartfelt friendships. In the Count, Towles has crafted an incredibly sympathetic, likeable standard-bearer for tradition and civility - a true gentleman who acts as a foil for everything the proletariat stands for. As he passes his days cramped in his fifth floor attic room, far removed from the luxurious suite 317 where he once resided, the Count’s life grows rich beyond measure. He befriends Nina, a vivacious, inquisitive child who becomes his co-conspirator as they master the hidden passageways of the Metropole. With time, in the role of head waiter, he forms a formidable brotherhood with Andrey, the maitre d’ at the hotel’s grand Boyarsky restaurant, and with Emile - the Boyarsky’s ingenious chef. Others - Marina the seamstress, Audrius the ever-ready bartender, Anna the willowy lover, Viktor Stepanovich the piano teacher and Osip, his powerful Party ally - all unite to form a resplendent supporting cast of characters.

Most importantly, the emergence of Sofia, Nina’s daughter, marks an inflection point in the Count’s hum-drum life. Suddenly, enormous responsibility is thrust upon him, and his aspiration in life shifts from gentlemanly virtue to selfless fatherhood. His life is imbued with purpose, direction, and above all, love for a tender-hearted child.

This novel sweeps you off your feet and transports you back to a time of leisure, intrigue and sensibility. It commands depth of feeling, while giving the reader free rein to simply indulge in the antics of the Count and his beloved companions. There are undercurrents of Communist subversion, but these ebb and flow gently throughout the novel, instead of saturating the novel’s plot. Above all, this is a story of honouring your values, of mastering your circumstances, of crafting a timeless version of yourself, and of meaningfully defining what “home” means for yourself. I found this to be a thoroughly enjoyable read, especially for historical fiction enthusiasts.

American Dirt | harrowing, persevering, timely

Review: 4 stars

With work winding down before my second mat leave, I took the chance to sneak in some reading after putting my toddler to bed. Cummins’ ‘American Dirt’ was one of 2019’s most anticipated reads, and after its induction into Oprah’s Book Club 2.0, it experienced a surge of controversy. I ordered it off Indigo.ca in hopes of forming an opinion for myself - I was actually quite curious to see how Cummins, as a white woman, would be able to walk in the shoes of Lydia, a widowed Mexican mother.

The novel follows a mother and son duo - Lydia and Luca - as they flee Acapulco following a mass murder of their family. With the Los Jardineros cartel in hot pursuit, the shell-shocked pair rapidly adapt to their new reality, donning the grim, dusty, weatherworn visage of the Latin American migrant. Lydia’s survival and protective instincts keep them alive at every turn, just out of grasp of their hunters. Some of the most poignant scenes are those when Lydia pauses and inhales the scent of her son or palpates his skin to feel the quiet devastation seeping through his body. The novel definitely pulled at my personal heartstrings, as I asked myself what I would sacrifice and what lengths I would go to, to protect the life of my son.

As they strive to make the 1,000 mile journey to ‘el norte’ - the United States - Lydia and Luca undergo drastic physical and mental changes. It becomes commonplace to hurl themselves onto the rooftops of accelerating trains, to shelter in migrant housing with downtrodden and often dangerous strangers, and to cover their tracks with each turn.. Along the way, they encounter Soledad and Rebeca, two Honduran sisters whose double-edged beauty become their downfall. The bonds that forge this foursome together hold strong throughout the novel, and the luck and tragedy that each encounters emotionally entangles the reader.

As a non-Latina, I enjoyed the pounding plot line and Cummins’ spotlight on the travails and circumstances of a highly vulnerable population. It was not a perspective that I had sought nor understood previously, and her ability to build empathy and rapturous attention from the first pages fo the books for the migrant experience is highly effective.

Controversy aside - I felt that ‘American Dirt’ was a highly readable, pulsating work of fiction that well deserves the pop culture dialogue it has incited.

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.

Conversations with Friends | modern, ironic, millennial

Review: 4 stars

‘Conversations with Friends’ was the September 2019 selection for the ‘Now Read This’ bookclub. I had been on a bit of a reading hiatus given how busy work was, and was looking for a lighter, romantic read. I found this and more upon diving into Sally Rooney’s witty novel about two friends - Frances and Bobbi - and the love affairs that entangle them.

Frances and Bobbi are ex-lovers and co-workers. They perform spoken-word poetry together in clubs, with Frances harnessing the power of words to write, and Bobbi captivating audiences with her beauty and star power. Their relentless banter reveals how highly they regard one another and themselves, forming a fierce twosome that gleefully view the world through ironic, anti-establishment lenses. This unified front begins to crumble with the introduction of a married couple - Melissa and Nick - into their lives. Frances, known for her steely facade and general dislike of people, finds herself falling tumultuously into lust and love with Nick, a handsome, seemingly bland actor who she delightfully discovers can rival Bobbi in conversational ability. As the two make bad decision after bad decision to continue their affair, it is this masterful conversation that inhibits their ability to emotionally come clean to one another. It is as though the articulation of real feeling is the only topic that cannot be broached, and so begins the unravelling of the romance.

I found it difficult to be wholly sympathetic to any of the characters. Rooney presents each of the four-some in full - charms, shortcomings, messy back stories and all - which is what a life truly is. Her three-dimensional rendering of the key characters inflicts on the reader the same realization as growing up inflicts on everyone. There are no clean lines that love nor friendship can be boxed in - no fully right or wrong way to feel or act. This was what I found most appealing about the book, and what I think elevated it from being a simple romantic narrative. I’m looking forward to tackling Rooney’s sophomore release - ‘Normal People’ soon…just a few more books on my nightstand to get through first!

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.

The Song of Achilles | mythical, original, poetic

Review: 4 stars

‘Circe’, Madeline Miller’s sophomore novel, has been atop my to-read list forever. When I saw ‘The Song of Achilles’ on sale, I decided to give it a spin first. I’ve completely forgotten my Greek mythology, aside from a brief re-watching of Troy several years ago, so I came to the character of Patroclus afresh.

‘The Song of Achilles’ is a re-telling of Achilles’ journey from brash golden child to tragic hero, etched in the canons of Greek history. It is an original perspective, told through the observations and emotions of Patroclus, Achilles’ sworn companion and secret lover. Patroclus is the perfect foil to Achilles - his dark, weak frame and penchant for failure, versus Achilles’ bronze, demi-god physique and battle prowess. Yet against all odds (and the efforts of Achilles’s sea-nymph mother, Thetis), the two fall passionately in love and embark on an entwined journey to manhood.

The well-known tale of the siege of Troy is enriched greatly by Miller’s willingness to place Patroclus’ and Achilles’ love affair at the centre of the saga. With this novel lens draped over the fated sequence of events, we learn that it is actually this love that drives the unfolding drama and tragedy. From Pactroclus’ fatally successful pantomime to Achilles’ grief-consumed death at the hands of Paris - each pivotal event is spun from their inseverable bond to one another. As Achilles forages into the iron-scented, blood-soaked realm of the warrior, Patroclus strays deeper into morality - becoming a healer and offering a hearth for Trojan refugees. Patroclus remains Achilles’ most sage confidant, the only true knower of his heart.

Miller also offers a well-researched take on the politics of warfare - from where the Greek encampments could be placed depending on positions of honour, to the sequence in claiming the spoils of war. This account of Troy is dramatic, deeply personal and engrossing. I recommend this to aficionados of Greek literature as equally as I do to those who have forgotten their grade school lessons in Greek mythology.

The Remains of the Day | nostalgic, unhurried, exquisite

Review: 5 stars

I first discovered Kazuo Ishiguro in my 9th grade English class, when we read ‘Never Let Me Go’. Since then, I’ve been in an Ishiguro drought, and it wasn’t until he won the Nobel Prize for Literature that he popped back on my radar. I took this book on holiday to Italy with my extended family, and found a quiet afternoon in La Spezia to sip rose and to finish this book on a little balcony overlooking a busy side street.

Few books actually make me laugh out loud, but this one accomplished just that. ‘The Remains of the Day’ follows Stevens, an English butler steeped in the times and traditions of a 1920s and 1930s way of life that has long since faded from vogue. He embarks on a delightful and startling journey which takes him from his place of service at Darlington Hall through the English countryside, to visit Miss Kenton, the former housekeeper he worked alongside decades ago. His travels are far beyond physical in nature - rather, each gently rolling hill and forested vista unlock memories he has neglected in favour of pure concentration on his butler duties.

The humour and magic of the book is created through Stevens’ inability to fully process his past and his feelings. His musings are at times self-deprecating, backwardly self-congratulatory and often lacking in self-awareness. At turns, you find yourself in admiration of his spotless record of selfless service, and then quickly again, you are chuckling to yourself as he convinces himself that perhaps he is one of the most dignified butlers in English history. The prolonged disposition on what dignity means, in addition to Stevens growing understanding of the role Lord Darlington played in managing German-English relations in World War II, are all story arcs that unfold leisurely, without haste. Steven’s eventual admission of former romantic feelings for Miss Kenton (now Mrs. Benn) establishes itself as a pivotal moment of character development. Stevens is able to forgo the airs and pretences of being a butler to allow himself emotion.

While this novel may be too slow for some readers, I was enamoured by the nostalgic depictions of English life - a time when propriety, tradition, service and excellence were the aims of the day. I thought it was a simply delightful read, and probably one of Ishiguro’s most notable, masterful works.

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.

Pachinko | bracing, hopeful, absorbing

Review: 5 stars

‘Pachinko’ had been on my ‘to-read’ list for quite a while. I am finding that most National Book Award finalists are turning out to be some choice picks for my style of reading. This dynastic, sweeping sophomore novel from Min Jin Lee captivated me from start to finish. It follows several generations of Koreans, struggling to make sense of their self-identity in their homeland and in a highly stratified Japanese society.

At its heart, it is an immigrant story - one of unwanted pregnancy, of discrimination, of cherished yen earned through toil and desperation, and of the eventual reckoning of one’s self with parentage and parenthood. The story follows various characters, but Sunja’s voice rings throughout. Her actions as a teenager set off an inexorable series of events that culminates in hope for future generations, and a devastating blow to one branch of the family tree. Her secret affair with wealthy Koh Hansu on the shores of her fishing village is the genesis of how Hansu covertly becomes the puppet master of her clan. This includes protecting her family from certain death during the war, providing her with reputable employ to keep her family afloat, and funding their son Noa’s education to help him transcend the class he was born into. Despite Hansu’s behind-the-scene machinations, it is Sunja and Kyunghee’s powerful roles as breadwinners and family binders that make this a female-forward story.

The prose is delicate, honest and incredibly compelling. I was completely pulled into the narratives of each character, and invested in an internal debate between what qualifies as honourable and dishonourable. As a Chinese-Canadian, while I haven’t experienced anywhere close to the degree of ostracism that Noa and his brother Mozasu suffer in Japan as Koreans, I empathize with the impulsive desire to assimilate completely at times. Noa’s journey to mask his ethnicity through education and later through adoption of a Japanese name and personage proves futile in the end - his Korean heritage and struggle to come to terms with it becomes his eventual undoing.

This was an incredible read - and one of my most recommended books to friends. I also increasingly appreciate tragic, bittersweet endings, which ‘Pachinko’ successfully delivers upon. Hope you have a chance to delve into ‘Pachinko’ - it is well worth your while.