Before I go on, I just want to point out that I see nothing but glowing reviews for this book, so please keep that in mind. My thoughts are definitely in the minority, and I'll try my best to unpack them all here.

When it comes to literary fiction, it can be tough right out of the gate because they don't rely on plot the way genre fiction does. Instead, they draw you in with their complex characters and beautiful writing and ultimately, profound insight into human nature. So when I don't get any of that, it can be hard for me to connect with the story.

Let's start with the characters. I feel like we're always drawn to stories where the characters mirror the phase of life we're currently in. And so that was the case with April and Leo for me—they've been married for many years and have young children. This phase comes with a lot of excitement, no doubt, but it also brings unique challenges, so I was particularly curious to see how the characters would tackle them.

But almost immediately, I started having trouble. The characters don't come across as quite real. Or rather, they feel more like generalizations of what people in these situations would do and say, rather than actual individuals. There's an oversimplification and shallowness to their issues, feelings, and actions that started from almost the first page and became more and more pronounced as the story progressed, until I could no longer shrug it off.

And because the characters were stereotypes, the story followed that trajectory too. At every moment, what you think would happen does indeed happen. There were no real surprises, no actual revelations. And while I don't read a story like this for its twists and turns, I do read it for its insight, and there were none to be found here.

The writing style didn't help. Every scene of significance was followed up with tons of commentary about how the character thinks and feels, thereby telling you the reader how you should think and feel too. It is essentially telling thinly disguised as showing, and I'm not a fan. I always prefer understated writing, and this type of overwritten, overexplanatory fluff makes me feel like the author doesn't trust me enough to follow along.

When you put those sorts of characters and that type of writing together, what you end up with is a whole lot of clichés. And so as the story progressed and the stakes became higher, so did the amount of platitudes we were hit with over and over again.

This is also told via multiple points of view, and it was probably one too many. There was the central issue, which was April and Leo's house burning down along with their marriage. And then there was Deb and Billy's issue, which was really a separate storyline altogether. But by putting so many people and multiple big problems into one book, it means that there really isn't the necessary space for in-depth exploration and we get only surface level treatment across the board.

I also have to specifically call out April and Leo's marriage problems, which was at the crux of this story. I get what the author was trying to do. She was trying to show us that in a relationship, each person brings their own baggage into it and bad feelings can fester over time. But what actually transpired was just a whole lot of miscommunication. Or rather, a willful lack of communication on Leo's part, which he uses to stonewall and gaslight his wife at the lowest point of her life.

Please. The number of stories I have read in recent years in which authors try to pass off toxic relationships driven by one person as an all-parties-are-equally-at-fault extravaganza has got to stop. April, you need to run away. And Leo, you need to go to therapy. And all you readers who loved this book isn't going to convince me otherwise.

I'm looking at the sea of glowing reviews and can only imagine the problem is me. At the end of the day, I never really connected with the characters in this book. And when it comes to character-driven stories, that's pretty much the only thing that matters.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Who can know what will come? Today, a kingdom. A life where you eat and drink from dreams. Tomorrow, the dirt of the grave to rub on your mouth.

Talk about a powerful, compelling, utterly riveting story. When people say reading is an exercise in empathy, surely this is the consummate example of that.

Some books really get to you. And I knew from the very first page that Good People would get to me. How could I not read a story about immigrants who gave up their home, their language, their culture, everything they knew and loved, all to move somewhere foreign and build a new life for their family, and not feel something stirring in my immigrant heart?

Rahmat and Maryam remind me of my parents, working so hard to give their children the opportunity of a better life. And Omer and Zorah remind me of myself, with all that intense pressure to succeed and the constant push and pull between the old and new. And if this book was just about the immigrant experience, I would've loved it already. But it was so much more.

It's written like a mystery, and bit by bit, we learned what happened to Zorah and her family. I feel like my heart was pounding the whole time, wanting to know more, yet afraid of what I will learn.

As is every great book ever written, it's not about the plot, it's about the characters. And the ones in here are so flawed and so real, it was almost too much to take at times. I felt for every single person in here as their human nature (and so ours too) was laid bare on the pages.

The format added to the appeal. It's written like a documentary, told via interview transcripts with the different friends and acquittances of the family. You would think with so many different viewpoints and narrators, it would get confusing. But it wasn't. The focus was always solidly on the family, and they remain the center of our story.

The unusual structure paved the way for the goal of this story, which was to provide a composite, often disparate view of the family. Are they the good immigrants, working hard to achieve the American Dream? Or are they old and stubborn, unable to change and assimilate in a new country? Are they humble in their achievements? Or do they allow their children to spoil and run wild?

As the story progressed, I didn't know what to think. Every new page was another color in the kaleidoscope, but how did they all fit together? I've seen mysteries done a lot of different ways, but this was such a unique and bold take on the genre, and the journey and resolution were altogether nothing short of striking.

We touch upon so many worthwhile topics along the way. Everything was seamlessly woven in and done with such a subtle and deft hand, that it never felt forced or preachy. There is no black or white, only so many shades of grey in between. And I nodded along to every insightful morsel, gobbling it up and storing it in my mind to mull over in the days and weeks to come.

For how thought provoking this book was, it was also eminently readable. I know there's been a recent trend to bill every vaguely interesting book as a one-sit read, but it's no exaggeration here. Once you start, you won't want to stop. This was such a fast, engrossing read, the hours will fly by until you've reached the very last page.

This story worked on every single level—riveting and unputdownable, a terrific mystery, but also underneath, many many layers to think about and digest. It's one of those books that indelibility changes who you are, and the version of you after will forever be slightly altered from the version before.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

People say the poor love to dream, but that isn't quite right. Dreaming is the privilege of the moneyed, and the world has all kinds of ways to protect their dreams.

What a quietly fascinating read Women, Seated turned out to be, and I was riveted from the first page to the last.

I don't see a lot of contemporary Chinese novels making their way out of China. So when I heard Riverhead had hired a new Mandarin-speaking editor committed towards that goal, and this was the first such book to be translated and published under that effort, of course my interests were instantly peaked.

This story is told through the eyes of the nanny Yu Ling. She works for this wealthy and powerful family, looking after their son. But when things start to go wrong for the family, where does that leave her and the child she looks after?

This felt like such an interesting exploration of class and gender. At first, it seems like the focus is solely on wealth and privilege. Yu Ling is envious of the family and the madam that she works for. They hold all this power and all this money. If only she could get some from them, she too would be set. But then as the story unfolds, she starts to realize that maybe she (poor as can be) and the madam (wealthy as can be) both dance to the tune of the men around them.

I feel like the messages in this book are so subtle, they're not at all in your face. If you were to read the story at surface level, there doesn't seem much there. But underneath, there are so many layers, it's quite compelling.

Going in, I wasn't sure how much of this story I would find relevant only to life in modern China versus being applicable everywhere. But I was happy to see that my concerns were unfounded. Yu Ling's struggles with her place in the family and in the world are as pertinent in the East as here in the West.

I'm looking at the low rating for this book, and I'm a little bit surprised. I wonder if it's partly due to the miscategorization of this story. The blurb, with all of its references to "secrets" and "life-changing choices," seems to imply this is more suspenseful and plot-driven than it really is. In fact, I would say the plot doesn't much matter here at all. This is really all about the characters.

So if you're in the mood for a quiet, reflective, character-driven story, this is well worth a look. As for me, I can't wait to see what other Chinese literature Riverhead brings over.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

I have an urgent need to fix this, but I don't know how.

Hmm let's think about this now. Hey, I know! How about you just tell the truth?

Ah yes, the dreaded miscommunication trope. You dress it up with some slump-inducing descriptive prose, make every character act as weird and paranoid as possible, throw in some instalove, and you have Wild Dark Shore.

But before I really get into it, I just want to say that my opinion here is decidedly in the minority. I see nothing but love for this book, so please take my thoughts with a grain of salt (har har).

When I think of literary fiction, what I'm looking for above all else is convincing characters. I want ones that feel authentic, poignant, and really force me to think about the human condition. I'm not looking for one-dimensional, loony, paranoid characters I could easily find in the most eye-rolling of thrillers. But that's exactly what I got here.

None of the characters' actions that drove the mystery part of this story made any sense. Every bad thing that happened in here can be traced back to the two main characters not talking about one essential topic. Instead, we get a lot of jumpy paranoia between the two of them that magically morphs into... instalust? Okay sure, you got me. I, too, often find myself unable to stop wanting to jump the bones of someone I suspect is trying to kill me.

But it's more than that. I really couldn't connect with any of the characters at all. I didn't like how dismissive Rowan was of her husband and his views, all the while complaining that he couldn't see her side. I didn't like how the book portrayed Hank or mental illness. I didn't like how Dominic reads like a male character written by a female author. None of them really rang true, and it was hard for me to overcome that deficit.

The topic of climate change is a big part of this story and while I appreciate Charlotte McConaghy tackling such an important issue, I feel like it was awkwardly done and lacked subtlety. It often came across as if the author was trying to club me on the head with it, going so far as to include nonfiction passages of nature spoken through the voice of a nine-year-old. To say it felt inauthentic and took me out of the story is an understatement. I wish the author had gone for a more subtle approach, trusting that the reader will follow her, instead of hammering her messages into my head over and over again.

I do feel like the story started to shape into something with emotional resonance towards the last third of the book, and the scene with the whale and her baby was particularly well-done. But then as we progress towards the denouement, we again lost subtlety in favor hamfistedness in the form of a certain development near the end. It felt unnecessary to the story, as if it was put there simply for emotional manipulation, to tug on the heartstrings and wring as much emotion from the reader as possible.

I don't know what else to say other than I feel extremely disappointed with my reading experience. I think this is a case where my expectations just weren't in line with reality. What I wanted was a character-driven mystery with elements of climate change that would really bring something new to the table and leave me with food for thought. What I got instead was some mishmash of eye-rolling domestic thriller and dull descriptive prose, two things sure to put me into a slump.

But hey, what do I know? Like I said, everyone else is loving this, so don't let my grouchiness dissuade you from giving it a try.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

You even hint at a Beauty and the Beast retelling, and of course I'm there. But not only did this not satisfy my dark fairy tale heart, it didn't even make for a decent story.

Birdie is a single mother to a young girl, and she knows life is tough. She's scraping by working at a bar in Alaska, but all she wants is freedom. When she meets Arthur, it doesn't take long before she realizes he could be the answer to her prayers. She and her daughter move out soon after to live with him in the wilderness. But there is another side to Arthur that Birdie can't acknowledge, and just maybe it's the most dangerous thing of all.

Let's start with the romance. I'll tell you what, romance books catch so much flack for instalove and they've got nothing on what happened here. From the moment Birdie meets Arthur, she incessantly tries to engage with him. After a few awkward, mostly one-sided conversations—you know, cause Arthur's (spoiler: a bear) so he doesn't talk much—Birdie decides that she must really like the guy. So she invites herself and her daughter to live with him at his cabin in the remote wilderness. Hmm, after such an auspicious start, I'm sure nothing bad can happen.

Of course, sex and instalove go hand in hand, so there's Birdie constantly trying to have sex with Arthur. After he runs away from her a few times, they finally succeed, only for the session to be described as if she's having sex with (spoiler: a bear), complete with lots of pawing and biting. The whole thing came off as a bit creepy, not gonna lie. By this point, I'm starting to get a sense that maybe this story isn't going to be all that I was hoping for.

But it isn't just Birdie and Arthur's romance I found icky. I also couldn't stand Birdie as a person. Every issue in this story stemmed from her poor decision making and lack of common sense. She was so self-centered and negligent in parenting, she often left her young child by herself without any warning or provisions. We kept having to read about how poor Emaleen was left stranded by herself yet again, cold and hungry and worried that her mother ran off without her. By the third time, I was pretty much fed up.

Every time I think the story couldn't get any more outlandish or offensive, there is yet another development that has my jaw dropping in shock. The only way this could've worked would be as horror or satire, but unfortunately it's not. It's as earnest literary fiction as they come.

The writing matches the dreary landscape, full of dull paragraphs about the Alaskan wilderness and dialogues that lacked even an ounce of spark. There were many moments I was just skim-reading, hoping desperately for something to catch my attention.

It's such a shame because there were a few scenes of true insightfulness in here, but they were completely overshadowed by the bizarre story. At one point, Birdie was pondering her desire not to miss a single moment with her child versus her need for independence to be her own person. That constant tug and pull of motherhood resonated with me so much, I wanted to cry. Another poignant scene had Warren and Emaleen sitting side by side, finding common ground with each other while taking the moment to appreciate the natural world.

But those two scenes were it. The rest of the story was so bizarre and appalling, I'm at a loss. I kept waiting for it to turn around, to redeem itself, but it only got worse and worse.

What was the author hoping to accomplish here? What was the point of all this? That there is no redemption for anyone? That animals lack humanity and don't deserve second chances? I really don't know. All I know is that this didn't satisfy my fairy tale itch—or even just the itch for a good coherent story. I hated almost every moment of it and am glad to be done.

Readaroo Rating: 1 star

True storytelling has always been one of the few great things humanity could produce that no automation could.

Wow. It is not often I am without words, but Death of the Author has left me speechless and astounded.

I don't even know how to talk about this book because it isn't like anything else I've ever read. I'm going to try to come at it from a few different angles, so bear with me as I get my thoughts and feelings untangled here.

First, the genre. This is the perfect symbiosis of science fiction and contemporary lit. (If you're already thinking to yourself, huh? Yeah, like I said, you haven't seen anything like it before.) We alternate between the story of the writer, Zelu, and the story within the story of the robots, and each is its own riveting tale.

Zelu's narrative is instantly arresting. There is a lot going on, so I imagine every reader will bring their own experiences into it and take away something different. Racism, ableism, fame, social media, societal and familial pressure, the immigrant experience in general and the Nigerian American experience in particular were all integrated seamlessly and explored deftly within this compelling narrative.

Zelu is so richly drawn, she just leaps off the pages. You don't see many books featuring disabled main characters, so my interests were instantly peaked. Then the more I got to know her, the more dynamic and fierce she became. I wouldn't say she is particularly likable, but she's undeniably fascinating. And this narrative is her journey of formation and transformation, her coming of life, if you will.

Then we arrive at my favorite part of the book, and that is the robot story. (Come on now, you know how much I love sci-fi, so you can't possibly be surprised.) I adored every minute of this science fiction journey. It was such a creative tale through and through, embedded with social and political commentary relevant to our times. Every scene felt both captivating and profound, and it evoked such WALL E-esque feelings in me.

What does it mean to hold onto humanity when there are no humans left? And can the power of storytelling transcend those who invented it? Those are the questions Ankara the robot faces as she traverses a post-human apocalyptic world to make sense of herself and what's around her.

I know a lot of people think science fiction is inaccessible, but to me, the best of this genre always zeroes in on precisely what it means to be human. It encompasses our hopes and dreams, our emotions, our faith, and our will to survive. And so this story does too.

With her clear, precise prose, Nnedi Okorafor is able to hold a multitude of emotions within her sentences. They evoke feelings of love and conflict, logic and passion, nostalgia for the past but also hope for the future. To write a story partially from a robot's point of view and to inject so much emotion into the whole thing is nothing short of remarkable.

To experience this story and to see the two narrative strands weave back and forth, reflected in each other, as they slowly grow closer and closer, is to watch a master storyteller in action. And that ending, goodness me. I'm going to need many moments (days, weeks, months) to think on it and then think on it some more.

You know that feeling you get when you're in the midst of an extraordinary book, where every page causes goosebumps on your arms and tingles to run up and down your spine? And the moment you're done, you just want to go back to page one and start all over again? Well, that's this book right here.

More than anything, this pays homage to the power of storytelling. If you're a reader—and surely we all are—then this book comes as close as any to put into words why we read and what stories do for our hearts and our souls.

“I feel satisfied, but also not. It reminds me of myself, but it is not about me. I feel like I’ve met those I have never met. I’m thinking things I never thought before. I have many questions. Will you help me understand this?”

A singular and audacious tale deserving of all the praise. Surely one not to be missed.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

I found the first half to be as sharp and piercing as they come, but then the second half kind of lost me.

We start off with Keru and Nate each taking a turn inviting their parents to vacation with them. Keru's Chinese parents are strict and emotionally guarded, while Nate's white, working-class parents don't quite know what to make of their son's career in academia. So when you throw these characters together, surely comedy and conflict ensues.

And it does. That first part definitely had me chuckling and shaking my head, with its sharp, satirical commentary of the typical dynamics within a Chinese American family and a white working-class family. Add to that the factor of marrying outside of your race and class, and each scene felt like such a zinger. The frequent misunderstandings and earnest hurt feelings made for a searing and funny read.

But I'm not sure I was as enamored with the second part of the book. At times, it became too exaggerated and I had a hard time relating to the characters and their inflexible ways. It feels like in Part Two, they became caricature of the people they were in Part One, ever more obstinate and set in their ways. I saw less and less of the humor I had previously enjoyed, and I just felt sad for the characters.

This isn't that long of a read. It honestly feels a bit like one of those stories where the author came up with a specific situation and wrote a novel around it. As a result, that original premise of vacationing with the parents shines as the story's strongest part. The rest of it did feel less focused, as if it were there to pad a great scene out into a full-length novel.

But don't let me dissuade you. I feel like this is my usual complaint with literary fiction, that I always expect more than it gives me. I hope to walk away with food for thought, but instead, the rather directionless culminations always leave me more befuddled than enlightened.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

I really wanted to love this book. But at the end of the day, it's hard to love something you don't really understand.

Let me start with what I enjoyed. Colored Television was interesting and unusual, and because I've never read anything like it, it fully engaged my brain. It constantly tried to explore so many meaningful topics that it often felt like every sentence and every paragraph had the potential to be something profound.

Every time I sat down with this book, I didn't want to put it down. I wanted to keep going, to keep turning the pages. There was this perpetual feeling that something compelling was right around the corner, if only I could stick around for a few more pages to find out what it was.

But the problem is that the compelling bits never really emerged. This story had the anticipation and the tension, but not the payoff. The whole thing felt like a setup instead of a story with a beginning, middle, and end.

The same could be said for the would-be interesting explorations. It feels like a lot of great ideas were introduced, but then nothing came of them. Yes, the book made me think, but that's because it served up ideas without any follow-through, so I was forced to come up with stuff myself or just leave the ideas dangling. As a result, while the book may have arrested my attention, it didn't actually give me anything new I could take away with me.

Let me give an example. It's clear Jane suffered from envy and wanted an upper-middle class life. But neither she nor her husband were willing to give up their high-minded artistic pursuits in trade for a job that would make more money. In fact, they regarded everyone who did as sellouts and were bitterly against them. Okay, but so what? I understand (as I'm sure everyone does) the conundrum of either working a well-paid but soulless job versus pursuing your passions but making considerably less, so I didn't understand what this story was trying to add to that conversation.

Another example is Finn, Jane and Lenny's son. He is possibly special-needs, but they're not sure. Jane and Lenny have different parenting views on what this could mean. Okay, but so what? I'm pretty sure every set of parents have had differing views at one point or another regarding their child, special needs or not. Again here, I feel like the author is trying to say something, but what it is eludes me.

Maybe part of the issue is the characters. Jane was not really sympathetic and neither were any of the supporting characters. They all just seemed to muddle along, blissfully certain in their views of the world while being bitterly against everyone who doesn't share them. From beginning to end, it seemed like there were no character growth, no gained understanding from their experiences.

Or maybe the problem is that this is billed as a dark comedy, but I didn't see any humor. It's not that I read potentially funny passages and just didn't laugh because it wasn't my brand of humor. No, it's more that I didn't even understand where the humor could be. Instead, this story felt earnest throughout, almost overly so, and thus I had to take everything it said seriously.

I suspect if I'd understood the humor, this probably would've read like a completely different story to me. Or if it hadn't come across so shallowly traversed, as I always prefer more depth than breadth. But as it stands, I can't shake the feeling that I didn't quite get this story. Still, I really enjoyed Senna's writing and will check out more from her. Hopefully my next foray will be more successful.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

How do you rate a book that doesn't quite deliver on its promise, and yet is still a riveting read?

Told through the perspectives of three generations of a family, Real Americans follows Lily as she finds the love of her life, Nick through his high school and college days as he gains independence, and Mei in her old age as she recounts what really happened all those years ago.

Of the three accounts, I feel like Lily's and Nick's boil down to coming-of-age stories, no matter how you try couch it in fancier, more racially-interesting terms. And I think that's where my mismatched expectations resulted in some disappointment. I was expecting more of a deep dive into what it means to grow up Chinese-American, but this only just scratches the surface.

The book tries to tackle so many worthwhile subjects—what it means to belong, a mother's love and expectations for her child, immigration and assimilation, having wealth and privilege, affirmative action, racism. You name it, it feels like it's in this book. If you're thinking to yourself, wow that's a lot, yes it is. And maybe that's the problem.

With so many topics, how do you achieve a meaningful look into any one of them? Well, I'm not sure you can. You can only superficially acknowledge them for a few pages, or even just a paragraph here and there, and that's about it. Every time I came across an interesting observation, I'd get excited, only to have the book immediately abandon it and move onto the next thing.

Throughout the whole story, there is this feeling that the good part is coming and I'm imminently about to stumble upon it. And this feeling propelled me through the book. I kept turning the pages, waiting with anticipation at what were sure to be astonishing revelations. But they never really materialized to my satisfaction.

I did find Mei's portion to be the most interesting and compelling. Hers was more than just a coming-of-age tale. She talks about what it's like to grow up during the Cultural Revolution, at a time of famine, when neighbor turned on neighbor, and every sort of intellectual aspiration was viewed as a punishable offense. I can't help but be drawn towards this part of Chinese history. It was the defining event of my parents' youth, yet they hardly ever talk about it.

The other interesting part of Mei's tale is the focus on the science that is central to this book, especially the ethics of gene editing and selection. But here again, it feels like the story got just close enough to tantalize, then immediately backed off, as if afraid to take anything other than a superficial stance on a potentially controversial topic.

I did want to mention the writing style. It came across as rather choppy at first, with lots of random observations and intense bursts of information, all the while keeping the reader at arm's length emotionally. It was a bit jarring initially, but then I hardly noticed anymore after a few chapters. So either I acclimated to it or the writing smoothed out. Either way, if you're having trouble at the start, don't let it prevent you from going a little further.

The entire time reading this book, I could feel the potential. There was this electric buzz that at any moment, this was going to become an amazing read. And it almost got there, but then somehow it didn't. Underneath this riveting story, there is a missed opportunity to really say something new and insightful about a host of worthwhile topics. Instead, this book skirts around them, giving brief nods to all but never more than that.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

This was a pick for my Book of the Month box. Get your first book for $5 here.

This is one of those well-lauded books that I felt a bit hesitant going in. I assumed it was targeted for a certain audience—either those who gravitate towards stories about complicated friendships, or gamers. I'm not sure either of those are me, so what would I get out of it?

And when I first started, I thought for sure I'd made a mistake. The first chapter was so overwritten, coming across as both pretentious and off-putting, and I cringed my way through it. I thought to myself, this is it. The book that everyone loves, I'd either have to give up on or end up writing a lowly-rated review and be subjected to comments about brain deficiency.

I took a break and then decided to give it another chance. Chapter 2 was a little bit better. And then we come to Chapter 3, and bam! I was hooked. It's not an understatement to say that the scene with Dov teaching the Advanced Games seminar class was my favorite of the whole book and it's what sold me on reading it.

From then on, every moment related to designing or making video games, I was totally there for. Before I started, if you'd told me that that would be the part I'd enjoy the most, I would've been surprised. I wouldn't categorize myself as a gamer since I've probably only loved one video game my whole life. (That was Animal Crossing, first on the GameCube and then almost 20 years later as Animal Crossing: New Horizons on the Switch.)

But then when I think about it, I shouldn't have been surprised. The way this book talks about games, they're really presented as more like stories, albeit ones where the reader can participate in and influence the direction and outcome. And I'm certainly a reader of the most passionate sort.

I'm also a software engineer with a little bit of experience making video games on the side, so of course the technical aspects of Sam and Sadie's ventures totally appealed to me. Reading about their projects is more or less like reading about work—which I normally avoid like the plague—but somehow this book made it exciting.

I can't help but wish the games were real. I want to play them and capture the feelings reading about them evoked in me. And I also want to know everything that went into making them. If this were a biography on a real video game company, I would've loved it from cover to cover and completely gobbled it up.

But it wasn't, and as a result, this wasn't a perfect story for me. It very much centers around Sam and Sadie's friendship, and that was pretty much the weakest part. I didn't really connect with either of the characters. All their issues were the result of the dreaded miscommunication trope, where one or the other refuses to say what they mean, leading to misunderstandings. And this went on and on, through many years.

My other issue with the story is that it includes a certain development that comes out of nowhere, seemingly for no other reason than to beat down the characters, thus eliciting tugs of the heartstrings and upping the emotional ante. And I'm just not a fan. It doesn't add anything to the story and it left me feeling somewhat emotionally manipulated.

I also have to point out that the story at times feels like it's a bit too clever with its verbiage. Like at one point, this book conjured up the only two literary characters who know what "jejune" means and put them in a conversation with each other. While that's an impressive use of the thesaurus, it detracts a bit from the story being told.

But I don't think my experience with the book is typical. A lot of other readers praise the depiction of Sam and Sadie's relationship and declare their love for the book despite the video game segments. I'm pretty much the complete opposite. But even coming from two different directions, it seems we have all reached the same conclusion, and that's our collective enjoyment for this supremely interesting story. And in the end, that's all that really matters.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

This was a pick for my Book of the Month box. Get your first book for $5 here.

I can't count the number of times I go into a book with high expectations, drawn in by a heck of a premise, only to end up sorely disappointed. So imagine my surprise and delight when I encounter a book that's so much more than I thought it would be.

Lou is part of a serial killer survivors group. But she didn't really survive a serial killer, did she? Rather, she's a clone brought to life by a government program after her other self was killed. And she's grateful for this second chance at life with her husband and her young baby. But she's not really sure how she's supposed to feel, being a clone and all. And there seems to be mysterious circumstances surrounding her murder.

Going in, I really wasn't sure what to expect. On the surface, this seems to be a mystery/thriller, but Book of the Month put it in their literary fiction category. So whatever it was, I knew it wasn't just going to be your standard thriller. And indeed, it turned out to be something more.

If I were to put a label on it, I think it would be character-driven speculative fiction. Even though the book's title and blurb would have you thinking that the murder investigation was the focus of the story, it really was just a small part of it. Instead, the focus is on Lou and how she's doing and coping given her unusual circumstances.

You guys know me, I love anything science fiction related. And so of course I found the parts around cloning and what it means for Lou to be particularly interesting. This isn't the first time I've encountered the concept of cloning a person to bring them back from the dead, but it's the first time it's really made me think. If I were a clone of Yun, would I be Yun to others and myself? Or would I feel that the original Yun and I are actually two separate entities, and that I'm really an interloper in her life? It's quite fascinating to contemplate.

I also really enjoyed this book's portrayal of motherhood. I'm a new mom myself, and Lou's baby and mine are about the same age, so it particularly resonated with me. The feelings of uncertainty and wanting to run away, but also the fierce love and devotion, they all rang true to me. The only part that didn't ring true was how much time Lou had to meet with her survivor's group and nose around about her murder. But then we wouldn't have a story otherwise, would we?

As for the mystery itself, I found it interesting, but I didn't focus on it. And when the reveal came, I really enjoyed the way the story chose to go. It was both surprising and thought-provoking. Based on all the upset reviews out there, I can see why it might be polarizing, but it totally worked for me. [view spoiler below]

I'm glad this didn't turn out to be a standard thriller. I've read so many of those, it's hard to distinguish one from the other. As soon as I've finished with one, it passes from my mind. This one though, this one I'm going to remember. I feel like it came into my life at the right moment and was exactly what I needed.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

This was a pick for my Book of the Month box. Get your first book for $5 here.

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In fact, in the early days of motherhood when I was so overwhelmed and exhausted, wondering what I had gotten myself into, I remember thinking I could run away from this life if only there was another me who I could trust to love and raise my baby as I would. A clone would certainly do the job. But then don't all mothers think every once in a while about running away, even as we love our babies fiercely?

Equal parts disturbing and riveting, My Dark Vanessa demanded my whole attention from the very first page. It's an undeniably important story that deserves to be told. But I come out of it reeling because it wasn't quite the story I thought I would be reading.

A troubled and lonely fifteen-year-old girl is singled out by her forty-two-year-old English teacher for special attention. He grooms her and manipulates her into being emotionally entangled with him. After a while, their relationship turns physical and sexual and clearly abusive.

Obviously, this is a graphic story and comes with all the trigger warnings you'd expect from something like this. Reading it was hard, and it was even more so to see firsthand how all the adults in Vanessa's life failed her, not just her abuser. There were so many signs that things were going wrong, yet her parents, her school, her other teachers, they all turned a blind eye so as not to cause trouble. As a result, they enabled and normalized the abuse and made Vanessa feel like she had no one to turn to.

But for me, it was her later life that was even harder to read. The author did not shy away from exploring the long-term affects of abuse. Vanessa reaches adulthood, and yet, she couldn't get away. She keeps going back for more, even though her abuser tries to cut off ties with her. He starts off as the aggressor, but their roles slowly become muddled. She obsesses over him, stalks him, reels him back in to their unhealthy relationship even though he tries to get out. When he doesn't give her the attention she craves, she tries to recreate their relationship with someone else.

To say Vanessa is the unwitting recipient through it all is to take the easy way out. And the author doesn't do that. Instead, she paints a complex, morally fraught, thought-provoking picture of abuse in all of its forms and consequences. Of course Vanessa starts out as a child and is initially the victim of her circumstances. But what about when she's in her twenties, or thirties? Can she ever truly move on, or has the abuse she endured robbed her of her agency and her ability to accept help and heal? There are no easy answers here, only uncomfortable questions.

This was such a distressing and unsettling read, and it left me torn up inside. It starts from a place that I was expecting and veers into a direction that was even darker and more complex than at first glance. Yet, through it all, I couldn't look away. It's definitely one of those memorable reads that will stay with me for a long time.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars