Looking Back: April Highlights

I don't know about the rest of you, but after this week of rain, I am so very glad to be seeing the sun today. I thought I might have to start kayaking to work (and I'm really not a good kayaker at all). To celebrate the return of spring weather, here are my favorite April reads:

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, by Gabrielle Zevin: You guys! This book! It's so lovely and wonderful and hilarious and sad and trying and emotional and did I say lovely? An ode to bookstores and book love and the power of reading and stories. Review to come, just as soon as I catch my breath.

Thunderstruck & Other Stories, by Elizabeth McCracken: McCracken is one helluva a writer, friends. The stories here are taut and emotional, as families are broken apart and stitched back together and trying to cope with the most unexpected turns of event. Really captivating. Review to come.

A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip, by Kevin Brockmeier: I loved Kevin Brockmeier's The Illumination years ago, so was excited to read his first memoir. Brockmeier dedicates the entire slim volume to one year--the seventh grade--and perfectly captures the awkwardness and discomfort that so many of us remember from our own middle school years. Read my full review of A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip and see what Kevin Brockmeier had to say about the memoir.

The Word Exchange, by Alena Graedon: I guess April was the month for books about books, but where The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry explores the power of reading through a quaint independent bookstore, The Word Exchange moves us into a future where books--and words--are threatened by our growing dependence on technology. Sound uncomfortably familiar, perhaps? Read my full review of The Word Exchange.

What fabulous April books did I miss? What were your favorites?

Looking Back: March Highlights

March was a bit of a snow slow reading month for me (also a slow posting month, and doing the laundry month, and do much of anything not work or volunteer-related), but there were definitely some highlights (*cough Saga cough*). Without further ado:

Saga, Volumes 1 & 2, by Brian K. Vaughn & Fiona Staples: Hot damn, how did I wait so long to pick these up? While I've never been a big reader of comics or graphic novels, the right combination of stunning art, interesting subjects and just enough WTF-ery is generally all it takes to pull me in. The last time that happened was with Bill Willingham's Fables series, which I devoured, but Saga tops the WTF-ery of Fables by a long shot. And then some. And that's a good thing. The story of two star-crossed lovers trying to raise a kid in a world and find peace--yes, entire world--at war might sound hokey, but when you consider that both are gunslinging, cursing motherfuckers, it becomes anything but hokey. I read the first two volumes back-to-back, and am eagerly awaiting my library's copy of the third volume.

Fallen Beauty, by Erika Robuck: I've come to expect nothing short of fascinating historical fiction from Erika's work, and Fallen Beauty did not disappoint. A truly captivating story not just of Edna St. Vincent Millay, but of the time in which she lived. Read my full review of Fallen Beauty.

A Few Seconds of Radiant Filmstrip, by Kevin Brockmeier: Ok, I'm cheating on this one, because it doesn't actually publish until April, but I had to include it here. I read (and adored) Brockmeier's The Illumination, and his memoir of the seventh grade was intriguing for a variety of reasons: it focuses on just one year of his life, it's told in the third person, it has elements of the fantastical. I had the chance to interview Brockmeier about the book and his experience writing it; stay tuned for my full review and interview in Shelf Awareness this month.

Hotel on the Place Vendome, by Tilar Mazzeo: Mazzeo's history of the Hotel Ritz in Paris reads like an if-walls-could-talk memoir of a building, documenting the famous--and infamous--inhabitants of one of the world's most recognized hotels. From Coco Chanel to the Nazis and beyond, this proved one of the books I couldn't stop talking about, filling my friends' ears with, "Did you know...?" statements left and right. Read my full review of Hotel on the Place Vendome, and my blurb in Bloggers Recommend.

The Heaven of Animals, by David James Poissant: I requested this on Netgalley on a whim, and could not be more thankful. Poissant's stories are absurd and heartbreaking, emotional, wonderful, hilarious, awful. I had to stop reading halfway through because I could not see the pages through my tears, and yet the stories never left me without hope. I didn't write a full review of this one because I wasn't quite sure how to put into words how much I loved it. Just read it, please? Read my blurb in Bloggers Recommend.

Redeployment, by Phil Klay: I did manage to review this one... barely. Another collection of short stories, another for the "not quite sure how to find the words" pile (a rare thing for a book reviewer, one hopes). Klay's collection paints such a vivid, varied portrait of the life of a veteran that anyone who's anyone should take the time to read it in order to better understand our nation's military. Read my full review of Redeployment, and my blurb in Bloggers Recommend.

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.

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.

Looking Ahead: June Highlights

It seems fitting to be writing this post after spending the last day of May and the first day of June at Book Expo, surrounded by books, buzz and readers with a serious amount of energy. While I tried to limit the number of galleys I acquired at the show (I'm moving in July, so a massive stack of more books to pack seemed like a bit of a waste), I did grab some titles I'm exceptionally excited about. Then there are those not at the show but that are definitely on my radar for June reading:

The Three Lives of Tomomi Ishikawa, by Benjamin Constable (Gallery, June 4th): I've actually already read this one, and my full review will follow after the book's release. It's a dark, slightly chilling novel about a girl named Butterfly who kills herself and leaves a kind of treasure hunt for her friend to follow after her death. The clues span Paris and New York, and each reveals some deeply hidden secret about Butterfly. Not entirely uplifting, but definitely an interesting premise that Constable has executed quite well.

Chocolates for Breakfast, by Pamela Moore (Harper Perennial, June 25th): This is one of those novels with a publication history as interesting as the story itself. Written by 18-year-old Pamela Moore in the 1950s, the novel was first published in 1956 and went on to become an international bestseller before falling out of print. Now it's back, with an introduction from Emma Straub (author of Laura Lamont's Life in Pictures), and promising to be just as relevant today as it was 60 years ago.

The Celestials, by Karen Shephard (Tin House, June 11th): Shephard's fourth novel centers on 75 Chinese laborers working in New England in the 1870s. From its description, it sounds like a combination of historical fact and incredibly imagined storytelling, bringing 19th century New England to life on the page. 

The Engagements, by J. Courtney Sullivan (Knopf, June 11th): Sullivan's 2012 novel, Maine, was a smash hit last summer, and this summer, we get more from her. The Engagements promises to be a deep dive into both the influence of advertising and the various forms marriage can take, and I'm all giggly about it. Plus I got to meet Sullivan at BEA and she was just a-freaking-dorable, which makes me all the more excited about this.

The Universe vs. Alex Woods, by Gavin Extence (Red Hook, June 25th): The publisher's comp titles for this book include Skippy Dies, one of my favorite reads this year (though it was released in 2010), so needless to say, I was intrigued from the start. Then it was described as "a celebration of curious incidents, astronomy and astrology," and I was hooked. I have a galley from BEA and hope to find time to pick this one up in the next few weeks.

Looking Ahead: May Highlights

May's a big month for book releases, with publishers prepping for summer reads and Memorial Day weekend officially kicking off beach reading (OMG I'm already packing my sunscreen). It's also the beginning of the summer movie series, which means tie-ins and related reads abound. And last (but certainly not least, thanks for reading, Mom!), May is the month of Mother's Day, which means yet another influx of books about mothers and daughters, none of which are featured below. But not because I don't love my Mom. Just because those books don't look as good as these do:

Call Me Zelda, by Erika Robuck (NAL, May 7) I read Erika's Hemingway's Girl last year and loved it, and that was before I found out she was a local-to-me author. Don't doubt for a second that I didn't jump at the chance to read her newest novel, which focuses on a fictionalized friendship between the real Zelda Fitzgerald and the imagined nurse Anna Howard. This one's perfect for fans of Z: A Novel of Zelda (St. Martin's, March 2013), and will hit shelves just in time for the May 10th release of the new Gatsby movie. Oh, and if you're in the Annapolis area, Erika will be reading and signing at the Annapolis B&N on May 10th.

Good Kings Bad Kings, by Susan Nussbaum (Algonquin, May 28): I finished this last weekend and it took me over a week to write a review for Shelf Awareness, simply because I couldn't find the words to express how wonderful this is. And heartbreaking. Telling the story of the dysfunctional and often cruel ILLC, a nursing home for juveniles with disabilities, it will make you reconsider every assumption you've ever made about what it means to be disabled--especially when you lack the resources or support that so many of us take for granted.

The World's Strongest Librarian, by Josh Hanagarne (Gotham, May 2): The title alone is enough to make me want to read this one. The publisher's blurb claims that the book "illuminates the mysteries of this little-understood disorder, as well as the very different worlds of strongman training and modern libraries." Sign. Me. Up.

Homeward Bound, by Emily Matchar (Simon & Schuster, May 7): I read Jessica Valenti's Why Have Kids? last fall, and have had my eye out for more in the same vein ever since. While this tackles overall domesticity, not parenting and motherhood specifically, it sounds like it will scratch all kinds of thinky gender-study itches. The sociology minor in me is squealing with delight.

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And look, I even ended up with an entirely accidental even split between fiction and non-fiction - just like my April recap. I'm sensing a trend, here, friends.