Book Review: The Distraction Addiction, by Alex Soojung-Kim Pang

Every once and a while, a book comes along at exactly the right moment in time. The Distraction Addiction: Getting the Information You Need and the Communication You Want, Without Enraging Your Family, Annoying Your Colleagues, and Destroying Your Soul, was just such a book. This one first crossed my radar when Kim posted about it as part of her 100 Days of Books project, and her description immediately leapt out to me:

The Distraction Addiction starts with a good question: “Can we stay connected without diminishing our intelligence, attention spans, and ability to really live?” I like this approach because it addresses both the positive (more connections) and the negative (more distractions) ways that technology impacts our lives. Unlike many books about technology and the mind, Alex Soojung-Kim Pang doesn’t suggest we should get rid of our phones or go off the grid. Instead, he advocates for a more mindful approach where we make deliberate choices about how to engage with our devices and the world. This is one of my favorite books on the subject that I’m due to re-read soon.

Defending Jacob: Maybe Great for Book Club Discussion, but Not for Me

It's not often I write negatively about a book I've read -- mostly because I rarely make it more than 50 pages into a book that isn't working for me. Life's too short to read bad books.

But book club reading falls somewhere in a grey zone here: after all, I joined a book club to expand my reading horizons. And I generally don't think it's fair to hate on a book in discussion if I haven't finished it.

Which is basically the only reason I got to the end of Defending Jacob, the legal thriller from William Landay that topped more book club recommendation lists than I can count. At a high level, the novel is about a prosecutor whose 13-year-old son is accused of murdering a classmate. It asks big questions about parenting and the law: How far would you be willing to go to defend your child against an accusation of murder? How well do parents--or how well can parents--know their own children? What weighs more in the creation of a character: nature or nurture? How imperfect is the United States legal system?

Book Reviews: The Last Policeman and Countdown City, by Ben Winters

Ben Winters' The Last Policeman (Quirk Books, 2012) opens in early 2012, just a few months after astronomers announced that an enormous meteor named Maia would be hitting Earth--on October 3rd. Into this world of limited time steps Hank Palace, recently promoted from Officer to Detective with the Concord Police Department. While others are "going Bucket List"--departing their everyday lives to live dangerously, sleep with strangers, travel the world, or whatever their bucket list may include--Palace is staying put, determined not just to do his job, but to do his job well.

Suffice it to say that Palace's dedication to his work raises some eyebrows as he investigates an apparent suicide--which Palace believes may actually have been cover-up for a murder--as those around him wonder what the point of solving a murder may be if the world is just going to end in six months?

Countdown City (Quirk Books, 2013) continue Winters' Last Policeman trilogy, this time pitting Detective Palace against the case of a missing person. But with Maia less than three months from impact, people are going missing left and right, and it's up to Palace to determine why this case is any different from the rest--and what he'll do if he finds his missing man.

Both of Winters' novels set relatively standard detective cases--an assumed murder, a missing persons investigation--against a backdrop of crisis and chaos, bringing a layer of pre-apocalyptic intrigue to what could otherwise be a simple police procedural. What is most fascinating about The Last Policeman trilogy is not the mystery to be solved, though Winters has crafted detailed and intriguing mysteries, but the decisions people make when they feel they are running out of time. Some stay, some go Bucket List. Some kill themselves, some kill others. Some get high, some get religious. The options are endless, and this never-ending combination of paths is what makes Winters' writing so absolutely compelling, challenging readers to consider: What would you do if you knew the world was going to end? And would your answer change as the date of impact got closer and closer?

The third novel in Winters' trilogy is due out from Quirk Books this month. If you haven't already read the first two volumes, get on it now so you're caught up by July 15th. And if you have already read them, check out Quirk's awesome pre-order campaign (which I was not paid to promote, I just think it's worth checking out).

Stay tuned for my review of the newest volume in the trilogy, plus a guest post from author Ben Winters on the best books to read to learn how to craft a mystery novel... I promise it will grow your reading list, whether you are an aspiring novelist or not.

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Note: Thanks to the publisher for providing copies of both of these titles for review.
The Last Policeman | Ben Winters | Quirk Books | Trade Paperback | July 2012
Countdown City | Ben Winters | Quirk Books | Trade Paperback | July 2013

Thoughts: Wave, by Sonali Derinayagala

Calling this a book review feels wrong somehow, for how can one presume to "review" a book of someone else's grief? I could point out that Derinayagala favors commas where I feel that periods and sentence breaks would have improved the flow, or I could discuss how I expected Wave to be a story about a tsunami, not a personal story of loss. But none of those things really matter in the face of the raw emotion that Derinayagala pours out on every page of this short but impactful memoir.

Wave opens before the wave (the 2004 tsunami that struck Sri Lanka) had hit; Sonali Derinayagala, her parents, her husband, and her two young sons were vacationing from London over the holiday season. This brief, happy time stands in stark contrast to what follows: a few short, staccato chapters on Derinayagala's experience during the wave--leaping into a fleeing Jeep, losing track of her family members, latching onto a tree to avoid being swept out to sea--and the long, drawn-out accounts of what followed: looking for her family, only to eventually accept their deaths as inevitable; returning to her London home, where unused theater tickets awaited the family's return and sports equipment still carried the dirt of previous matches; visiting her childhood home, now cleared of her parents' belongings and rented to strangers.

Derinayagala thanks her therapist in her acknowledgements, along with so many others, for pushing her to recall her grief and therefore face it. The raw emotion of her memories cannot be overstated; Derinayagala does not shy away from any of her past actions, no matter how shameful they may seem in the light of day. Merely writing this all down may have functioned in the same therapeutic capacity; by publishing, and sharing, her story, Derinayagala has given us all the opportunity to face the fear of this grief--of losing our families, our loved ones, our sense of security in the world--through her experiences. Facing this dark side of our human nature and our capacity for grieving is not easy, but it brings to light the very human side of natural disasters in a way that no reader is likely to forget.

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Wave | Sonali Derinayagala | Thorndike Press | August 2013 | Hardcover | 251 pages

Tournament of Books Contenders Announced!

The Morning News has announced the list of contenders for the 2014 Tournament of Books (the 10th annual, no less!), affectionately known as "the rooster." The list is, as always, full of books I want to read (though this year I actually have read some already, and own others)

At Night We Walk in Circles by Daniel Alarcón
The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton
The Tuner of Silences by Mia Couto
The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert
How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia by Mohsin Hamid
The Dinner by Herman Koch
The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri
Long Division by Kiese Laymon
The Good Lord Bird by James McBride
Hill William by Scott McClanahan
The Son by Philipp Meyer
A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki
Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
The People in the Trees by Hanya Yanagihara

Pre-tournament play-off round:

Life After Life by Kate Atkinson
Woke Up Lonely by Fiona Maazel

I've already read The Goldfinch, Life After Life, and A Tale for the Time Being, so my preference currently stands with those contenders, but it's such a wonderfully interesting, diverse list that I'm sure I'll find other titles to catch my attention as I read through some of these (up first: The Son, The Signature of All Things and The Lowland are all in my possession already).

Which have you read? What are you rooting for?

The Best Books I Haven't Read... Yet

I read a lot of really, truly wonderful books this year, but I know I also missed some big titles. Such is the case in any reader's life; the classic so-many-books-so-little-time conundrum is downright unavoidable. It's a good problem to have, though, because it means a wealth of titillating titles (see what I did there?) are waiting for me at any given moment. Here's a few key titles I missed this year that I'm still aiming to go back and pick up... eventually:

What books am I missing? And what did you miss this year that you're hoping to go back and read?

2013 Favorites: A Categorized List

Because I can't pass up an opportunity for a good list, or a chance to talk about my favorite books:

Best Book I Waited for All Year: The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt. I couldn't have a year-end list that didn't include this dazzling novel of a young boy, a stolen painting, and the way the latter shapes the life of the former. Like we've come to expect from Tartt, this novel is big, complex, and rich. It's downright wonderful.

Best Book I Didn't Review: A Tale for the Time Being, by Ruth Ozeki. I put off reading this for reasons unknown to me, and I am kicking myself (HARD) for doing so. It's an amazing story of youth and forgiveness and life and death and happiness and philosophy and quantum physics and everything else you want to read about, so read it.

Best Historical Fiction: Life After Life, by Kate Atkinson. I read a lot of historical fiction (of the 100 odd books I read in 2013, 24 were historical fiction), and I knew this would be one of my top reads of 2013 by the time I was 50 pages in. It only got better from there. This story of a woman who relives her life over and over and over again touches on so much of British history, World War II, the importance of will and desire in living (and dying) and so many other things, without ever feeling redundant. Read my full review of Life After Life.

Best Audio: Joyland, by Stephen King. It took me a bit to get into the narrator on this one--he was somewhat flat and had a tendency to mumble--but by the end, his voice completely embodied the voice of Dev, a young man working in a potentially haunted amusement park over summer vacation. I'm only just diving into the world of Stephen King, and this was another hit for me. Read my full review of Joyland.

Best Horror: NOS4A2, by Joe Hill. I've never been a big horror reader, so the fact that I read more than one contender for this category is pretty shocking. Night Film and The Shining Girls were both excellent, but NOS4A2 had the added elements of wit and imagination that really win me over in a book. And it's downright terrifying at times. Read my full review of NOS4A2.

Best Feminism: The Woman Upstairs, by Claire Messud. Holy highlighter, batman. I noted and annotated so many pages of this book (which was a library copy, which meant lots of post-it notes) because so much of it resonated in ways I can't begin to explain. If you read books to find characters you love, don't read this. If you read it to find a story that speaks to the anger and rage that so many people--particularly women--feel at being pushed into a life they never expected, too scared to fight for their dreams, well, read this.

Best Indie Press Read: The Revolution of Every Day, by Cari Luna. I picked this up at BEA at the urging of Catherine from Gilmore Guide to Books, and I'm so very glad I did. This is a quiet story at first, about a group of squatters living in an old tenement building in the East Village, but it builds to a startling climax that forced me, as a previous resident of the neighborhood (and part of the very gentrification against which these squatters fought) to reconsider the basic right of housing that so many of us take for granted.

Best Nonfiction: Gulp, by Mary Roach. Because it would be impossible for Roach to publish something without my reading it, impossible (I hope) for her to write something I don't love, and impossible not to include a new Roach book on a best-of list somehow.

Best Biography/Memoir: The World's Strongest Librarian, by Josh Hanagarne. Libraries + books + faith + dealing with Tourette's + strongman weightlifting = recipe for one helluvan intriguing read. It doesn't hurt that Hanagarne's a damn good storyteller, or that his memoir will grow your TBR list in droves, either. Read my full review of The World's Strongest Librarian.

Best Sports: Running Like a Girl, by Alexandra Heminsley. Ok, this might be cheating because I think this is the only "sports" book I read all year, but I loved it, and want to keep telling everyone to read it, so I'm going to do just that: Read this. It's funny and witty and inspirational and encouraging for wannabe, newbie or seasoned runners alike. Read my full review of Running Like a Girl.

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That's the best of 2013 from my year in reading. I know I missed some really wonderful-looking books, many of which I have stockpiled in my house and on my e-reader, and I'm hoping to get to those sooner than later--what should I be sure not to miss?

Audiobook Review: The Paris Architect, by Charles Belfoure

This review originally ran in the Friday, November 22nd issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. If you don't already subscribe, sign up here for a bi-weekly dose of bookish goodness in your inbox.

Like most Gentiles in the Nazi-occupied Paris of Charles Belfoure's debut novel, Lucien Barnard has no great love for Jews. Strapped for cash, however, the architect accepts commissions to design hiding places for Jews in exchange for considerable sums of money and the promise of lucrative building contracts. But when one of his hiding places fails, he is no longer able to keep his emotions separate from his work, and finds himself drawn into a dangerous game of two-timing the Germans: working for them by day, designing spaces against them at night.

Along with the architectural details that reveal Belfoure's own pre-literary architectural career, the historical details of The Paris Architect bring to life the terrible and terrifying atmosphere of the occupied city, from neighbors turning each other in to the Gestapo to the brutal public murders of Jews and their protectors.

The novel's supporting cast is vast and varied, but narrator Mark Bramhall gives each voice enough differentiation to make Lucien stand apart from the crowd of characters. His portrayal of Lucien's emotional experience transforms a despicable, unlikable character into the unlikely protagonist of an adult coming-of-age tale, staring down his own cowardice and greed in the face of human kindness.

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The Paris Architect | Charles Belfoure, read by Mark Bramhall | Random House Audio | July 2013 | Unabridged, 11 hours

Book Review: The Santa Klaus Murder, by Mavis Doriel Hay

This review originally ran in the Tuesday, December 10th issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. If you don't already subscribe, sign up here for a bi-weekly dose of bookish goodness in your inbox.


The Santa Klaus Murder, one of three detective novels written by Mavis Doriel Hay in the 1930s, is a classic country-house murder mystery with a holiday twist. The story opens with the gathering of Sir Osmond Melbury's family at his estate for the Christmas holiday. The grandfatherly figure, known for his wealth and lack of patience, has planned an elaborate Santa Klaus ruse for his grandchildren, complete with gifts and holiday noisemakers. But when Sir Osmond is found shot in the study, every member of the family comes under suspicion.

Was it his youngest daughter, seeking to claim her inheritance while marrying against Sir Osmond's wishes? Was it his oldest son, hoping to protect the fortune from his money-grubbing sisters? Or was it his eldest daughter, bitter over having been denied her income for also choosing a husband not to her father's liking? As the details unfold, it becomes apparent each and every member of Sir Osmond's rather unlikable family had a motive to kill the patriarch, and it is left to Colonel Halstock to determine which family member had not just the motive but the opportunity.

Part of the British Library's Crime Classics series, The Santa Klaus Murder is a re-issue of a forgotten British cozy that warrants attention as both a classic British mystery novel and as a holiday read. The large number of point-of-view characters can be confusing at times, but once the story finds its footing, it moves stealthily toward an intriguing and not altogether predictable conclusion.

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The Santa Klaus Murder | Mavis Doriel Hay | British Library | November 2013 (originally published 1936) | Paperback

Looking Back: November Highlights

November was a busy month, not least of which because I turned 26, admitted partial defeat on my 26-by-26 list and kicked off my 30-by-30 list. But I still managed to squeeze in a fair bit of reading, albeit not a lot of titles with November pub dates:

Burial Rites, by Hannah Kent: I first heard about this title at Book Expo this year, featured in a panel on Fall 2013 buzz books. It was a Fall 2013 buzzed-about book, for sure, and it lived up to the buzz that surrounded it. Kent's debut novel, Burial Rites is inspired by the true story of the last person to be executed in Iceland--a woman named Agnes Magnusdottir, for the murder of her master and another man. Kent takes the facts of the story as we know them and fills in the details of Agnes' life and personality, providing room for readers to believe or doubt Agnes' guilt as they see fit. It's a dark book, both in terms of theme and setting, but a fascinating consideration of Icelandic culture, the concept of death sentences, and what it means to have your story told by others. Read my full review of Burial Rites.

Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls, by David Sedaris: Somehow, this was my first Sedaris book (what?), but it won't be the last. I listened to this one on audio, and hearing Sedaris read his own essays out loud was perfect and hilarious. Some are recorded at live readings, others in studio, which made for an interesting mix of tone, and with the exception of some strange imagined letters at the end of the collection, there wasn't a bit of this book I didn't love.

Maddaddam, by Margaret Atwood: Admittedly, it took me a long time (we're talking months, not weeks or days) to get into this book. But when I finally found my stride with it, I fell in slow love. It's not the whizz-bang-pop conclusion of a trilogy I may have had in my head, but with her usual skill, Atwood has woven together the first two books of the Maddaddam trilogy, simultaneously giving readers more backstory while moving the plot forward. It's a unique structure for a three-book set, and it works--as long as you go into it expecting subtlety.

Contents May Have Shifted, by Pam Houston: This is another one I've been reading for months (since August, to be precise), but I chose to take slowly. Written as 154 short chapters (Houston writes that the book was originally titled 154 Reasons Not to Commit Suicide), I read one or two at a time, staving off the inevitable end of what was a fabulous, delightful, wonderful, book that I am now, and probably will remain, incapable of writing about in any cohesive way.

Book Review: Burial Rites, by Hannah Kent

Agnes Magnusdottir, along with two others, has been accused of murdering two men and setting fire to their house. Awaiting execution, she is sent to work on a distant farm. The family there shuns her--who wants to house an accused murderess?--speaking to her only as much as is required to complete household chores. The only confidant she has is Toti, an assistant priest Agnes has requested as her spiritual guardian prior to her execution.

Small spaces and the harsh weather of Iceland, however, drive the family and Toti and Agnes physically and emotionally closer together over the months Agnes stays with them. Agnes helps deliver a baby, she cures a cough, and slowly, the family warms to her. As they grow closer, Agnes reveals bits and pieces of her story--a story very different from that of both the courts and the gossips of the Icelandic valley in which they live.

Burial Rites is based on true events: Agnes Magnusdottir was the last person to be executed in Iceland, after being accused of killing her master and another man in cold blood in 1828. The history books offer skeletal facts about Agnes' life and the crimes for which she was condemned, and in Burial Rites, Hannah Kent sought to offer a more "ambiguous portrayal of this woman."

Kent has succeeded--and then some. While some of the secondary characters in Burial Rites feel only partially formed--the two sisters on the farm where Agnes stays, for example, even the man she is accused of killing--the debut novel is a stunning psychological portrayal of Agnes, whose story dominates its pages.

Agnes' tale forces readers to contemplate what happens when one's fate is molded by the stories others tell of you; the District Commissioner says you are cunning and clever, and more than capable of pressing others into murder; the valley gossips say you are the daughter of a whore, never knowing or accepting her place in society; the witnesses called in court say you are of questionable morals. But the Agnes that lives inside her own head is none of these people:

"I remain quiet. I am determined to close myself to the world, to tighten my heart and hold onto what has not yet been stolen from me....They will see the whore, the madwoman, the murderess, the female dripping blood into the grass and laughing with her mouth choked with dirt. They will say 'Agnes' and see the spider, the witch caught in the webbing of her own fateful weaving. They might see the lamb circled by ravens, bleating for a lost mother. But they will not see me. I will not be there."

The truth, Agnes argues, is that she was doomed from the start. Alone, with no one to counsel her, her life is defined by others' opinions of her. As an intelligent woman, she is a threat; the townspeople and the court "believe a thinking woman cannot be trusted. Believe there's no room for innocence."

But "room for innocence" is exactly what Kent develops in Burial Rites, alongside a detailed portrayal of the dark, cold landscape of Iceland and its shifting culture in the early 19th century. The question of guilt and blame and personality is what makes the story compelling to the last, culminating in a heartbreaking scene of life and death.

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Thanks to the publisher for providing a galley of this title for review.
Burial Rites | Hannah Kent | Little, Brown & Co | September | Hardcover | 336 pages

Book Review: NOS4A2, by Joe Hill

Hoooo boy. This book reminded me seven times to sideways why I read horror novels as infrequently as I do (mostly due to the lack of sleep that inevitably covers the days of reading), but why I still turn back to them even though they make my skin crawl and generally leave me sleeping with the lights on.

NOS4A2, Joe Hill's most recent novel, centers on Victoria "Vic" McQueen and her (pardon the term) arch-nemesis, Charlie Manx. Both have the power to bend the world as we know it to their own reality: Vic can locate lost items by riding a six-speed bike over a decrepit covered bridge, Manx can drive children to a world called "Christmasland" in his antique Rolls Royce (with the appropriately inappropriate and titular license plate number NOS4A2). When Vic goes off in search of Manx, her covered bridge takes her right to him--and when she escapes his wrath, she becomes the first of his victims ever to survive.

But when Vic returns to reality and Manx is locked up in jail, she finds she remembers two versions of the events: the first, full of fantastical covered bridges, impossible sights, impractical things; the second, that she was kidnapped and drugged and held captive by Manx for days. In the face of reality, she--and her shrinks--push her mind to accept the latter as the truth.

Vic spends her entire adult life running from her past, moving from one mental hospital to the next as she tries to screw herself back into reality and forget Manx ever existed.

But Manx will never forget her, and when he escapes, he heads straight for her--and her son Wayne--vowing to kill Vic and take Wayne to Christmasland.

NOS4A2 is the kind of creepy, weird, totally screwed up story that absolutely defies summation, so take the summary above with a grain of salt, please.

Hill has a knack for stories and storytelling, teasing enough detail to bring the fantastical to life without ever getting bogged down in worldbuilding, and an imagination in which it is easy to get lost. Every seemingly innocuous action in NOS4A2 is packed with meaning and consequence, which makes what could have sufficed simply as an excellent horror novel function on so many more levels; Hill forces us, through Vic, to reconsider our interpretations of what is real versus what is imagined:

"I kind of think it is our world. A version of it anyway. Everyone lives in two worlds, right? There's the physical world... but there's also our own private inner worlds, the world of our thoughts. A world made of ideas instead of stuff. It's just as real as our world, but it's inside."

In Charlie Manx, Hill brings evil to life--but also pity. In Vic's friend Maggie Leigh, Hill applauds the power of libraries and librarians. In Vic's boyfriend Lou, he captures the nice guy with an eating disorder who spends an entire life just trying to get something right. In Vic's parents, the unstable, unhappy marriage that isn't great but isn't pure evil; in Vic's love for her son the love of a mother who refuses to abandon her child no matter how many mistakes she's made in the past.

The world of NOS4A2 is complicated and messy and difficult, just like ours, with enough tweaks to our reality--or at least reality as we know it--to bring the stuff of nightmares, quite literally, to life. It is horror in a world at once so different from ours that we know it couldn't possibly be real, but the details of Hill's characters are so true and so realistic that it is quite easy to find oneself questioning just why, for instance, you might be humming "Jingle Bells" in the middle of September. Perhaps you've heard Manx driving by on his way to Christmasland--or perhaps you've just been reading too many Joe Hill novels.

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This review is part of TLC's book tour for NOS4A2.
For thoughts from other bookworms, see the full tour schedule.




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Thanks to the publisher for providing a copy of this title for review.
NOS4A2 | Joe Hill | William Morrow | Trade Paper | October 2013 (reprint edition) | 720 pages

Book Review: The Bones of Paris, by Laurie R. King

This review originally ran in the Thursday, September 17th issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. If you don't already subscribe, sign up here to receive a bi-weekly dose of readerly goodness in your inbox.

Laurie R. King is perhaps best recognized for her novels starring Sherlock Holmes and Mary Russell, so it is not so surprising she's a master at creating--and solving--intricately detailed historical mysteries. The Bones of Paris, which re-introduces Harris Stuyvesant, the star of her 2007 novel Touchstone, is no exception.

It's 1929, and Stuyvesant, a former federal agent now working as a private detective, is broken-hearted in Berlin--and broke. When the opportunity to work a plush case locating a missing girl in Paris comes his way, he leaps for it. His search leads to a series of encounters with the great cultural figures of the period: Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Man Ray, Sylvia Beach. As the days drag on and he turns up less and less about the missing girl, his simple, cushy case gradually becomes something much more sinister.

King's knowledge of the era and the Surrealist art scene, and her appreciation of the minute details that make up a well-crafted mystery, work to create a thoroughly entertaining mystery that mixes fact in with the fiction. The story is peppered with references to Stuyvesant's past, providing background for those not familiar with Touchstone but occasionally slowing the pace. Nevertheless, readers will soon find themselves racing ahead, following carefully placed clues to a shocking conclusion nobody--except Harris Stuyvesant, of course--will see coming.

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Thanks to the publisher for providing an e-galley of this title for review.
The Bones of Paris | Laurie R. King | Bantam | September 2013 | Hardcover | 432 pages

Book Review: Buying In, by Laura Hemphill

When Sophie Landgraf graduates from college in 2008 with a degree in applied math (smartypants), she scores a fast-paced, high-power job working on Wall Street as an analyst. Or so she thought, anyway. The pace is fast, of course, but the high-power job she yearns for remains just out of reach, as her advice is overlooked and her presence not wanted at client meetings. She sticks with it, though, working such long hours that her personal life suffers, pushing for the job she wants rather than just the job she has.

When her firm spots a potential merger in the works, Sophie hits it off with the client and suddenly finds herself in the position she's always dreamed of. But the credit crisis is looming, and Sophie's not sure who to trust or to turn to in her new shiny life; in order to succeed, she has to decide just how far she wants to go--how much she wants to buy in--before she can sell out.

Buying In can, occasionally, get bogged down in financial details that would probably be more interesting to anyone who's worked in finance, and some of the secondary characters--like Sophie's father, and her best friend from high school--seem half-formed and out of place in Sophie's story. But if you're willing to look past this, the story is, at its heart, an interesting one, asking tough questions about careers, life, and what we will do to reach our goals. Not everyone will agree with Sophie's decisions, but the beauty is that they are her decisions. She can decide, as a recent college grad, how much she wants to dedicate to her job; as a woman, how much she wants to fight for recognition; as an individual, how much her job will define her personality or vice versa. Each and every one of us will approach these questions differently, but, like Sophie, they are questions we will ultimately have to answer.

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This review is part of the TLC book tour for Buying In. Check out what others thought about the book.

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Note: Thanks to the publisher for providing an e-galley of this title for review.

Buying In | Laura Hemphill | New Harvest | November 2013 | Hardcover | 304 pages

Looking Back: October Highlights

Fall is here in the mid-Atlantic with a vengeance. It's downright cold in the mornings and pumpkin spice everything is everywhere. I spent the majority of this autumnal month prepping for some upcoming gift issues of Shelf Awareness for Readers (which means I read a few more cookbooks and a few less novels), but that doesn't mean I didn't encounter some really great books this month:

Cartwheel, by Jennifer duBois: I read and loved duBois' debut novel, The Partial History of Lost Causes, so was absolutely stoked to be able to review Cartwheel. Her sophomore novel is inspired by the Amanda Knox trial, pitching a slightly off-base study-abroad student against the justice system in a foreign country after her roommate is found stabbed to death. duBois' skill with sentences and emotions keeps the story from ever feeling stale despite its ripped-from-the-headlines nature. Read my full review of Cartwheel.

Running Like a Girl, by Alexandra Heminsley: I'm a recent running convert, but since running two half marathons in May, I've fallen off the bandwagon a bit. Heminsley's account of her own experience working up to her first marathons is heartfelt, humorous, and just the motivation I needed to get my own running shoes back on my lazy feet. Can't recommend this one enough, for potential, newbie or expert runners alike. Read my full review of Running Like a Girl.

This House is Haunted, by John Boyne: Boyne takes on the classic Victorian ghost tale with This House Is Haunted. Eliza accepts a job as a governess in the country estate, hoping to get away from London after the death of her father, only to find the estate house occupied only by children and a few servants--no parents to speak of. Things only get stranger from there, as Eliza finds herself battling what feels like the house itself. Read my full review of This House Is Haunted.

Joyland, by Stephen King: I haven't read much King, but this was another shining example of King's power as a storyteller and crafter of characters. The murder-mystery-cum-haunted-amusement-park tale is just fantastical enough to keep you guessing from start to finish, and a likeable if sometimes thickheaded narrator proves the glue that holds the whole thing together. A must-read for fans of King and those new to his works (like myself). Read my full review of Joyland. 

Hyperbole and a Half, by Allie Brosh: Following in the tradition of blog-turned-book, Brosh's Hyperbole and a Half is a printed version of Brosh's blog of the same name. The chapters range from downright hysterical (her list of rules for her dogs, for one, had me crying I was laughing so hard) to more emotional (relating to her struggles with depression and anxiety). All are told with her same dry sense of humor, coupled with the bizarre type of illustrations seen on her site--combined, they make a strange but oddly compelling set of stories and anecdotes of her life. It's a quick, easy read, and worth picking up if you've ever enjoyed her blog.

The Paris Architect, by Charles Belfoure: This book hit so many of my literary soft spots, there was no possible way I could have missed it: historical fiction, detailed military history, World War II fiction, set in Paris. The story of an architect in Paris who crafts hiding places for the Jews, The Paris Architect is a chilling portrayal of the fear and betrayal that pervaded Occupied France during World War II, and the terror of never knowing who to trust. Stay tuned for a full review of the audio edition, narrated by the ever-excellent Mark Bramhall.

The Revolution of Every Day, by Cari Luna: I've been waiting and waiting for a sweep-me-off-my-feet kind of book lately, and this one hit the spot this month. The story of a group of squatters in the East Village mid-90's New York, The Revolution of Every Day manages to hit on city politics, real estate issues, the history of Manhattan, the power of friendship and love, the issues of homelessness and so much more all in one relatively short novel. Full review, with plenty more gushing, to follow.

Audiobook Review: Joyland, by Stephen King

Until 11/22/63 came out, I'd never read a Stephen King novel. I know, I know: shame on me. But I'm easily terrified, so his canon of horror novels never truly appealed to me. 11/22/63 was non-horrorish enough for skittish little me to take to it, and it turned me on to the power of King's stories and characters--and the depth of his imagination--in a big way.

And so I was delighted to hear of Joyland, which promised to be the classic mystery-with-a-twist type of novel that I looked for in 11/22/63 and not the blood-pouring-on-teenage-heads type of novel that has me so scared to read Carrie.

Joyland, not surprisingly, did not disappoint. The novel centers on Devin Jones, a college kid from New England who lands a job at Joyland, a classic pre-Six Flags amusement park in North Carolina, in the summer of 1973. Having just suffered his first major break-up, Devin marches into the summer like any 21-year-old virgin suffering from a bad case of heartbreak: ready to make new friends, work hard, and try to forget the girl--no matter how futile that last may seem. Along the way, he finds himself mildly obsessed with the mystery of the haunted Horror House in the park, looking for the ghost of a murdered woman in the park's "only dark ride."

Told in the first person, narrator Michael Kelly perfectly captures the heartbreak, ennui, and general attitude of Devin, known to his friends as Dev and his colleagues at the park as "Jonesy." Unfortunately, while the style of narration is perfectly suited to Devin's character, it's not suitable to car-listening--Kelly's sentences sometimes fade to mumbiling, and on more than on occasion, I had to back up to re-listen to a section to tell what was going on.

But if you're willing to go into this with a little patience, the narration style pays off. Kelly's--and therefore Devin's--retelling of that summer of '73 builds slowly, almost like an afterthought, the words of an old man reflecting on a summer long-past. But as events unfold, Devin becomes more invested in his own story, recounting with an urgency that was lacking at the outset of the novel.

This urgency reflects Devin's own growth over the summer, as he moves from New England college kid to heartbroken virgin to stand-his-ground man. It's hard to say how that all happens without giving too much away, but suffice it to say King has managed to work a coming-of-age tale into a murder mystery into the story of a haunted amusement park. It's a tale of the everyday, a story of a turning-point summer that we can all probably point to in our own lives, but tinged with enough intrigue and fantasy that you just might find yourself looking over your shoulder the next time you visit an amusement park yourself--that is, if you can still find one of the good ol' parks.

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My inquiring self wants to know: If King's horror novels are too scary for me, but I dig his writing style and stories, where should I go next?

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Note: This title is only available in paperback (from Hard Case Crime) and on audio, and was not released as an e-book per Stephen King's wishes.
Joyland | Stephen King, nar. Michael Kelly | Simon & Schuster Audio | June 2013 | Audio CD | 7 1/2 hours

Book Review: This House Is Haunted, by John Boyne

This review originally ran in the Friday October 25th issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. If you don't already subscribe, sign up here to receive a bi-weekly dose of readerly goodness in your inbox.

John Boyne's This House Is Haunted is a ghost story steeped in the Dickensian tradition. As Eliza and her father journey through a typically cold, wet night in London to see Charles Dickens read in a nearby pub, he falls ill from the weather and soon dies, leaving her with no parents, no siblings and very little money.

Seeking a change, Emma responds to an advertisement for a governess at an estate in the country. But when she arrives at Gaudlin Hall, she is startled to find no adults present; her two new pupils present themselves to her with no explanation. From her first night at Gaudlin, Eliza is haunted by an unseen spirit. As the attacks become more violent, threatening Eliza's life, she sets out to find the secret that lies at the heart of Gaudlin.

With The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, Boyne proved his ability to immerse himself in the innocent and naive perspective of a small boy; in wholly embodying Eliza in This House Is Haunted, he further proves his narration skills. This strong voice gives the story an added layer of intrigue, as we are treated not only to a 19th-century ghost story, but also to a heroine coming into herself as a woman and an individual. Though those looking for true horror and gore may be disappointed by the subtle buildup, This House Is Haunted is ultimately a compelling story of the supernatural and an ode to the Victorian-era ghost story.

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Thanks to the publisher for providing an e-galley of this title for review.
This House Is Haunted | John Boyne | Other Press |  October 2013 | Trade Paper | 204 pages

Book Review: Running Like a Girl, by Alexandra Heminsley

Alexandra Heminsley was never a runner. She was a bar-goer, a partier, and a fad exerciser. But on something of a whim, she decided to finally believe all of those rumors of the "runner's high," and set out for a jog.

That first jog did not go well. With humor and candor, she relays the details of her nightmarish less-than-one-mile trek in the opening chapters of her book, Running Like a Girl: Notes on Learning to Run. But what is so interesting about Heminsley's account of her months spent learning to run is her dedication, because even though that first run was a disaster, she kept on running. And running. And running. Until she found herself at the starting line of the London Marathon.

Running Like a Girl falls squarely in the camp of "If-I-can-do-it-so-can-you" motivational reading, but manages to pull it off without ever feeling preachy or pushy. Heminsley has a sense of humor--there were moments here where I literally laughed out loud--but also a depth of emotion that brings the highs and lows of her running journey to life. She manages to motivate without talking down, making her tales of running accessible to those who have never run a mile, those who haven't run in years, or those who set out for a steady jog every morning before work (and by the way, if you fall in that last group, I'm totally envious of your dedication).

The book is divided into two parts: first her story of training and running her first marathons, then sets of training tips, advice, and myths explained for anyone interested. Her advice ranges from the exceedingly girly (Paint your fingernails before a race so you have something fun and colorful on while you run.) to the extremely practical (Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. Get fitted for real running shoes. Listen to your body.), and the myths debunked included the standard (Running is bad for your knees.) and the less-familiar (something about prolapse that I'll choose not to go into here.)

As someone who has only recently come to running, I found a lot to love in Running Like a Girl. Here was someone like me, who believed that the runner's high was nothing but a myth and that running was just for exceedingly fit people with strong calf muscles. Someone who suffered the same insecurities about running in public, lining up at that first starting line, working through that first injury--but who managed to run all 26.2 miles a first, and second, and third time. By the time I finished the book, I decided not only that I wanted to try to run a full marathon (I think I've seriously lost my mind), but that I want to be best friends with Heminsley (maybe I should call her Alexandra as a first step?).

I'd recommend this without hesitation to anyone with even a passing interest in running. And though it tends toward female runners, with advice on nail polish colors and sports bras, Alexandra's story of her own push to that first starting line will resonate with anyone, male or female, contemplating clicking that "Registration" button.

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Thanks to the publisher for providing an e-galley of this title for review.
Running Like a Girl | Alexandra Heminsley | Scribner | October 2013 | Hardcover | 224 pages

Book Review: Painted Hands, by Jennifer Zobair

Jennifer Zobair's debut novel, Painted Hands, is the story of four very, very different women: Zanaib, a Muslim woman working for a conservative political candidate; Amra, also a Muslim woman working to make partner in a Boston law firm; Hayden, Amra's heartbroken, hopeless co-worker; and Rukan, Zainab and Amra's friend from childhood. Their stories weave together as the friends fight and make up, meet men and break up, and search for love and give up.

I was intrigued by Painted Hands because it is so very different from the majority of my reading; I, ashamedly, cannot recall the last time I read a book with a Muslim main character, if at all--let alone three of them. Ever ready to learn something about which I know very little, I dove into this with gusto, and was not disappointed.

Zobair, herself a Muslim convert and advocate for Muslim women's rights, incorporates varying perspectives on the religion in her story. Zainab is a relapsed Muslim, somewhat like a "Christmas Catholic," holding to some aspects of the religion but despising what she sees as the oppressive treatment of women. Amra takes a more middle-of-the-road approach, holding to her faith but determined to be her own person, even after marriage and motherhood. Rukan yearns for the love and respect of her family, but when she falls in love with a non-Muslim man, is forced to make difficult decisions. And Hayden, wallowing in loss and unhappiness, comes to Muslim as a convert and is subject to questionable advice from her Muslim leaders.

Through the experiences of these four women, we hear how politically and culturally divided the Muslim community is, we see the hate speech and discrimination these women are forced to live with, and we are treated to glimpses of the traditions of a rich, historical culture. But these are four smart, independent women who have the same life issues that face non-Muslim women as well: How do I balance my morals with my sense of ambition? How do I balance work and children? How do I make my husband happy? How do I make myself happy? These questions apply to women everywhere, regardless of culture, tradition or religion, and when we happen into a book that allows us to think about them while also learning of another culture, all the better.

This review is part of the TLC Book Tour for Cartwheel. Be sure tocheck out what others thoughtof the novel.

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Thanks to the publisher for providing a review copy of this title.
Painted Hands | Jennifer Zobair | Thomas Dunne Books | June 2013 | Hardcover | 336 pages

Book Review & Giveaway: Cartwheel, by Jennifer duBois

Jennifer duBois' second novel, Cartwheel, is based loosely on--or perhaps "inspired by" would be a more accurate way to describe it--the events of the Amanda Knox murder trials of recent history. The story centers on Lily Hayes, an American college student studying abroad in Buenos Aires. While there, her roommate is found stabbed to death in their shared apartment; Lily is arrested for the crimes, and in short order, her entire life is on display for the prosecutors, judges, media, and entire world to see.

What is revealed, in bits and pieces, is Lily, as a person, as a friend, as a daughter, as a lover, as a suspect. She is a 20-year-old girl struggling to become a 21-year-old woman; she tries not to care about her looks, but probably does; she fancies herself liberated enough not to believe in monogamy, but yearns for love nonetheless; she decides to be independent and grown-up and operate without parental advice as much as possible, but needs their love and support more than she can say.

"She was typical," her father reflects, not unkindly, "She was aggressively typical--all the more so if she didn't quite know it yet."

Over the course of the fast-paced, captivating novel, duBois reveals small details about Lily and her actions, both leading up to and after her arrest. Some of the details are small, insignificant, mundane: Lily dropped a glass at work, breaking it; Lily once killed a slug as a child; Lily liked Winnie-the-Pooh growing up. Others are more crucial: Lily kissed her boyfriend passionately, in public, mere hours after her roommates death; Lily had been smoking marijuana; Lily had blood on her face; Lily's DNA is at the crime scene. And one is the most important of them all: Lily did a cartwheel after being interrogated.

It is these details that give us the rest of the characters in Cartwheel: How do her parents view her actions? Her sister? What does the prosecution make of them? What of her boyfriend? How does the media make this look?

As duBois skillfully peels back the layers of Lily's life, from the photographs she took on her arrival in Argentina to stories of her childhood to her strange actions after her arrest, Lily's world comes to life before us. She is the daughter of parents who lost their oldest child; she is the older sister to a girl who feels overlooked; she is the not-so-liberated girl who might be falling in love with an oddball; she is the roommate of a student who appears to be perfect; she is the fall-guy for her host parents when things go wrong.

What Lily's life reveals in its ordinary details, in her daily emails with her family, her fights and makeups with her roommate, her strange conversations with her neighbor, is precisely that it is ordinary. And yet this extraordinary thing has happened to her--murder, and arrest, and it casts everything in a new light.

duBois is no stranger to using the mundane to reveal a bigger, grander story about what it is to live; her skill with language, her impeccable sentences, and her tendency to probe the philosophical questions of life were what made me fall in love with her debut, A Partial History of Lost Causes. In Cartwheel, she has turned these skills to answering the typical whodunit question, "Did she do it?" But what comes to light as she progresses is that that is not the important question at all; what really matters is how we answer the question, "Could she do it?" This is the driving force behind the narrative in Cartwheel, and what keeps a well-covered subject from every feeling stale in duBois' very skilled hands.

This review is part of the TLC Book Tour for Cartwheel. Be sure to check out what others thought of the novel, and if you're interested in reading it yourself, good news! Thanks to TLC Book Tours, I have one copy available to giveaway. US only, please. Contest closes 10/11.

a Rafflecopter giveaway
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Thanks to the publisher for providing an e-galley of this title for review.
Cartwheel | Jennifer duBois | Random House | Hardcover | September 2013 | 384 pages