“I Was Told There’d Be Cake: Essays” by Sloane Crosley

I remember, already an adult, being surprised by my cousin’s confident pronouncement that it was “every little girl’s dream” to live in New York City someday. That had never been my dream when I was a little girl. But I’ve since tried that dream on for size a time or two (only in my imagination, of course). I can see some appeal in the idea--enough to pique my interest, if not enough to sell my house and still not have enough money to pay a month's rent in Manhattan. But it's fun to imagine--or read about!--and here Sloane is living that dream, and it is just as great and terrible as Friends always promised it was. 

I had a lot of fun reading this book of essays. Right off the bat, I enjoyed the self-deprecating humor (but don't be fooled, because Sloane-with-an-e is happy to deprecate others as well as herself), and the same energy and engagement was maintained through every essay. Just like with Ann Patchett (though with quite a different tone), I felt like I was reading about Sloane's real life. I enjoyed it so much that the minute I turned the last page, I hopped online and ordered her second book of essays as well. Yeah, I did have a momentary thought--as you do before you pick up your fourth donut--am I really going to keep enjoying this as much as I think I am, or is it all going to end up being a bit too much? And then I clicked Buy Now. 

“The Martins” by David Foenkinos

I loved this little book. I read it in one day, which is something you can do when you're home sick but not quite dying. 

Originally published in France as La famille Martin and impeccably translated into English by the world's best translator (who, me, biased?), in The Martins the narrator is feeling devoid of inspiration for his next book and thus comes to a decision. He is going to walk out the door of his Paris apartment, head for the street, and write a book about the first person he sees. And . . . he does.

Madeleine Tricot is bringing home her groceries and ends up unexpectedly bringing an author with her. When Madeleine's grown daughter Valerie Martin drops by, she decides it would be too much pressure on her mother to be the sole subject of a book, so the author should include her family of four as well. And . . . he does. 

The rest of the book is a surprisingly engaging combination of the intriguing and the mundane. Who would have ever thought that the lives of a random Parisian family would be so interesting? And yet . . . they were. 

I hate to admit that this is probably the literary version of reality TV. That thought somewhat dampens my enthusiasm for the book. But never mind. Why be a killjoy? Though I do want to know . . . was it real? Was it made up? Was it some combination of the two, where reality and fiction are so closely intertwined that the truth is impossible to determine?

It seemed really real. I like that.

“The Country Life” by Rachel Cusk

This book was written a lifetime ago. (1997!). I've enjoyed (and been impressed by) Cusk’s more recent books, and was surprised to find that this one (her third published novel, though weirdly her second is not listed on the "Also by Rachel Cusk" page of this book) is a more typical novel than her later work. That said, I would definitely not classify it as garden-variety.

While The Country Life was unexpectedly different from The Outline Trilogy, it was no less good. The narration felt stiff and formal and quite British, worthy of a classic to stand the test of time. The characters were quirky and interesting (but thankfully, believably so).There were mysteries, some of which were never truly solved, and stories half-told and half-understood, and secrets merely glimpsed, and desires considered and abandoned. Nothing was as it should be and everything was as it could be, with a bizarre undercurrent through it all. 

The story starts with Stella Benson hurriedly preparing for her journey from London to the English countryside where she has been hired as an au pair for a wealthy farming family with a wheelchair-bound son. Foreshadowing as we meet the family makes it seem like she ends up spending ages with them, but as it turns out, the plot only covers one week in time. We are graced with Cusk's trademark introspection and brief shades of the deep conversations that form the substance of her later books, but in TCL these are a smaller part in the larger framework of more typical settings, characters and plot. 

What I enjoyed most about this book was the situational humor, in a so-awkward-it's-funny kind of way. I think quite possibly Rachel Cusk would be horrified to hear this, but at times Stella made me think of Bridget Jones--not only because she kept finding herself in mortifying situations, but because she seemed only able to make things worse. I read with mingled vicarious shame and relief that it wasn't me. 

Why has no one adapted this book for the screen? I would totally watch a TV series of The Country Life. I think it would be like a funnier and more normal-seeming Gormenghast. 

“Gingerbread” by Robert Dinsdale

I don’t know how long ago I started reading this book. I have started and finished perhaps a dozen others in the meantime, maybe even more. 

So, yeah, it was slow going for me to start with, but I always intended to finish it. I just found myself reaching for a crossword puzzle more often than I reached for this book. But eventually I resigned myself to the cold and the dark and the hunger and the snow. And soon enough I found myself captured by the story. I was definitely rolling downhill with it during the second half. 

This is the story of a young boy in Belarus who lives with his mother. He is not close to his papa, her father, but the boy and his mother must go to live with him in his tenement. The boy doesn't realize it yet, but his mother is dying of cancer, and he will need someone to take care of him afterwards--and, just as much, the boy will need to care for his papa. 

Before he lived in the city, Papa used to live in a little house with Baba on the edge of the woods, and he takes the boy back there to see the place, but it is a rundown ruin. Even so, the woods are calling him back, and the boy and Papa move out of the city and into the forest. And the rest of the story teeters between fairytale and horror, with a number of well-known folk stories woven in.

“Unsettled Ground” by Claire Fuller

We made another trip to the lovely Collected Works bookstore in Santa Fe last week, and Sam found this new book for me there. I've read and enjoyed two other books by Claire Fuller, so it only makes sense that I would enjoy a third. 

The cover is not bad-looking, but unfortunately when I read the blurb on the back I found I was not interested in the premise of the story. However, I want to support independent bookstores, and it’s always nice to have a souvenir from a vacation, so I went ahead and bought the book, hoping that Fuller's amazing writing would bring me around.

Unfortunately it was not love at first chapter. As I got started reading, I found the characters boring, and everything was just so depressing and overwhelming. But I pushed on, because you know me. I can't not.

So I read and I read about middle-aged twins Julius and Jeanie, living in poverty with their mother. And I read and I read about their lives getting continually worse, even though everything was bad enough to start with. 

But as I read, a funny thing happened. Before I was halfway through, I’d reached critical mass. It was still depressing and overwhelming, and I'm not sure I ever necessarily identified with Julius or Jeanie, but I did not want to stop reading. Claire Fuller has done it again, folks. 

“The Woman in the Library” by Sulari Gentill

This was a fun book. And very meta! I came across it in the eighth issue of Oh Reader magazine (which, by the way, I have just realized I only tangentially mentioned once previously, and as such I am remiss. I have greatly enjoyed that magazine, and since you are a reader, I know you will too. Check it out! But back to the book). The Woman in the Library was one of the books featured in "Oh Reader's TBR: Some of the new and upcoming books on our to-be-read list." Which, of course, encouraged me to place it on my own TBR.

So, meta. Are you ready? Sulari Gentill is an Australian crime fiction author writing the story of a bestselling Australian author named Hannah Tigone. Hannah is in the process of writing a murder mystery whose protagonist, Winifred (Freddie) Kincaid, is an Australian writer in residence at Harvard, having won the Sinclair scholarship. Freddie in turn is writing a murder mystery, based largely on life, since a writer for the student newspaper was found murdered in the library the day Freddie met her new friends Cain, Whit and Marigold. Freddie works on her novel while she is simultaneously consumed by trying to solve the murder (and subsequent dangerous events) with her friends. Meanwhile, Hannah sends every chapter she writes about Freddie to her American novelist friend Leo, and he responds to Hannah with helpful suggestions for improving the plot.

I didn’t love this book from the very beginning. (Was it only because the characters in Hannah’s book had such silly names? Surely not; this actually didn't bother me much because I was able to blame that on Hannah rather than Sulari.) It took me a surprisingly long time to get into. But I think by about 80 pages in, I was in. It may not be great literature or a classic for the generations, but it was clever and I enjoyed its shades of Only Murders in the Building, which is nothing if not fun. I liked puzzling through the whodunit of Freddie's life while simultaneously being creeped out by Leo's increasing helpfulness and insistence. 

“Here in the Real World” by Sara Pennypacker

I found this pretty little hardcover book at Half Price Books (where else?) and really liked the artwork on the cover. It looked like it could be a kids’ book but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t really care either way so I didn’t try to figure out if it was. 

When I finally decided to read it, the first thing I noticed was “Ages 8-12” on the front flap. So that answered that question, while simultaneously lowering my expectations a bit. 

This was a perfectly nice and enjoyable book to read, telling the story of eleven-year-old Ware who thinks he'll be spending the summer with his grandmother Big Deal. But when she falls and breaks both hips and faces a lengthy recovery, Ware has to go back home where both his parents are working double shifts all summer long. This means Ware is expected to spend his days at the crowded and noisy community rec center, which is not the favorite place of a daydreamy boy who prefers to spend time alone. But when he realizes the rec center is right next to an abandoned and half-destroyed church, and no one notices if he's at the rec center or not, a summer full of possibilities opens up to him (as well as to a girl named Jolene, who has also noticed the potential of the abandoned churchyard).

I probably would not re-read this book, but it was worth reading once, and I may hang onto it just because it's pretty and someday an eight- to twelve-year-old might want to borrow it from me.

“Bellman & Black” by Diane Setterfield

Sam read this book first, and he absolutely loved it. We haven't really discussed the details yet (I'm sure he didn't want to give me any spoilers) but he was excited for me to read it, and I was excited for me to read it--not only due to Sam's recommendation, but also because of how much I loved Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale and Once Upon a River. 

I fear that, for me, Bellman & Black fell prey to high expectations. I liked it. (It kills Sam to hear that.) I did not love it. I did not race through it. It did not consume me. Unless you count my absorption with hunting for what it was that Sam loved so much about it. 

This is the story of William Bellman, beginning in childhood with a stone and a sling and a rook he never really meant to kill. Somehow that one careless act at the age of ten followed him throughout his entire life, from success to great loss and back again. But Bellman's story did not grab me, and while the writing was good and I can't point to any specific complaints, for some reason I just wasn't feeling it. And I'm more disappointed in myself than in the book!

“The Candy House” by Jennifer Egan

I’ve never read Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad, and I’ll have to remedy that soon. For those of you who aren’t so remiss—apparently you’ll recognize a similar format here, with vivid stories delving deeply into the lives of a broad cast of characters, each with their own chapter and each related to the others in some way, whether tangentially or more directly. 

I really enjoyed this story. The overarching concept is that social media has been taken one step further: you can now upload your entire consciousness (including forgotten memories) and share it with whomever you choose. We hear about an entire range of reactions to this new technology: from those who created it to those who embrace it or shun it or are ambivalent. The title refers to that forest dwelling of a fairy tale witch: something that looks very tempting and draws you in, but then you're caught in something unexpected.

The writing was solid and the book was really engaging. There was, however, an underlying current of desperation or depression. Or maybe that's just this gloomy, rainy day talking?   

“Five Tuesdays in Winter” by Lily King

Here’s another one from my recent buying spree. I read and enjoyed King’s Euphoria a while back, and bought (but inexplicably still haven’t read) her Writers and Lovers, so it wasn’t a leap to assume I would also like her new book of short stories. And there’s a statement at the top of the front cover that confirmed it for me: “I loved this book.” Who said it? None other than Anne Patchett!

This is a book of 10 unrelated short stories that showcase King’s range in their wide variation of characters and setting. Whereas typical short stories may be like a full novel in compressed form, most of these stories seem as if they could appear as a chapter in a novel. With the exception of the last story (“The Man at the Door”) they all feel vividly real; the last story is still vivid, but adds shades of the surreal. I love this sort of book, where the writing is impeccable and I can disappear into the story (or stories). 

“Brood” by Jackie Polzin

Remember how I said I’d recently gone on a spree and ended up buying about 11 new books? It was kind of Sam’s idea. Sam wanted something new to read for our upcoming vacation (which has now become our current vacation). What he really wanted was something like Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, or Bellman & Black (the connection not the ampersand in the title, but the bigness, awesomeness and fun. Not exactly how Sam described it, but close enough).

How do you go about finding big, awesome, fun new books? Here was my method. I wrote a list of our favorite authors, then looked online to see if they had any new books out. Most of them did not, but the internet is nothing if not good for “if you like this, then you’ll like that” suggestions, and while I don’t specifically remember what led me to Brood, the internet was right. I liked it. 

Polzin’s writing reminded me of several authors I’ve read (and enjoyed) recently. It was like Sarah Moss, or like Rachel Cusk (albeit without the intelligent and soul-baring conversations with strangers). It was like Nell Zink, but more The Wallcreeper than Nicotine.  It was simple, calm and quiet, but also powerful. 

Brood is narrated by a married woman with a flock of four chickens. (I have chickens, so this drew me to the book, but for Sam—who appreciates the eggs but not the hens—a storyline involving chickens was not a plus.) The chickens, and the narrator’s quest to keep them alive, are a major thread throughout the book, but other parts of her life (her relationships with her husband Percy, her mother, her best friend Helen, her non-existent children) are woven in as well. 

Here are four random things I want to mention about this book. 

1. I love its size. This is one of those smaller-than-usual books that fit so nicely in my hand. 

2. All of the writing was great except at the very beginning. In the first three pages we are introduced to Helen, who asked such odd questions about the hens that the only explanation that made sense to me was that Helen must be a child. (She was not.) This, to me, was the only false step, which kept me outside of the story, but not for long. The rest of the writing was great.

3. This was not a funny book, but it made me laugh out loud at least three times. However, when I read these things aloud to Sam, he did not even crack a smile. Hm.

3a. One of these three things was about the raccoon with a briefcase. Percy prefaced the scene by saying, “You’re not going to believe this.” And he was right. I didn’t believe it. It must have been intended literally, since everything else in the book was as well, but it was a little too fantastic. Could it actually have happened to the author? If it didn’t actually happen, I can’t believe it would happen.

4. About 3/4 of the way through this book, the author bio caught my eye, and I saw that she has children. Sam says this was an overreaction on my part, but I almost felt betrayed, having assumed that the book was heavily autobiographical and thus that the author was as childless as the narrator. Looking at this in a positive light: I love when authors are able to make books seem so real that I believe they are real. 

“Notes on an Execution” by Danya Kukafka

I found this book through one of those Buzzfeed articles that so often convinces me to waste time. The article in question was a compilation of the best first lines of books (see here, if you're curious), which means it was an article more worthy of reading than is typical for Buzzfeed, although most of the lines mentioned were either from books I'd already read, or they did not grab me. This one… well, tbh the lines quoted seemed more inscrutable than amazing, but they did pique my curiosity, and I recognized the author's name from when I read and enjoyed her previous book, Girl in Snow. So I gave this new one a go.

And it was definitely a good choice! This is the story of Ansel Packer, abandoned by his parents at the age of 4 and raised in the foster system, who at age 17 goes through a brief stage of killing girls before settling down to a more acceptable existence with his future wife. The story leaps nimbly from death row to Ansel’s childhood and everything in between, told mostly from the perspective of Ansel’s mother and wife, plus the detective working the case of the murdered girls. While at times the story was unsettling, it was always very compelling.

Despite my enjoyment of the reading experience, I do have one complaint about the book. While I am aware that conventional wisdom disparages the use of adverbs in writing, surely this doesn’t mean we need to eschew them entirely? The first few times an adjective was conspicuously used where tradition indicated an adverb, it seemed quirky and experimental (in a good way), but the more often it happened, the more annoying and pretentious it seemed. Like, if it had only been done two or three times, it would have seemed like a positive, even impressive, thing. Or maybe if it was only used in relation to a single one of the narrators? But by the time I noticed it was happening every ten pages or so (fingers twitching nervous, dangling graceless, averted uncomfortable, the air tinged lavish…) the lack of ly was sticking out like a sore thumb and was definitely rubbing me the wrong way. 

But that’s the worst thing (in fact, probably the only bad thing!) I have to say about this book.