I wonder what price I would pay, for that same freedom.

A dynamic entry into the Greek mythology retelling space, I, Medusa takes a villain in the traditional lore and turns her into the hero of her own story.

I adore mythology retellings. But for some reason in recent years, I’ve been tiring of them. Maybe I’ve read too many. Or maybe all the interesting ideas have been written and there's nothing new left. Whatever the reason, it's surprising and thrilling to come across a tale and a character that makes me remember why I fell in love with the genre in the first place.

The story kicks off, and I'm immediately enthralled. We follow Medusa as she yearns to leave the island of her home. She wants to see what's out there, to explore and have adventures. But instead, she is a mortal woman amongst immortal beings, and her parents' sole expectation of her is a favorable marriage to burnish the family name.

In prose equally arresting and foreboding, Ayana Gray draws the reader in, and we are left with the distinct feeling that all will not go well for Medusa. After all, every Greek mythology is pretty much a tragedy, and I don't think it's a spoiler to say that Medusa's will be as well.

But then, as the book continues, it starts to get a little bogged down with an issue common among this genre. When you think about it, you can approach a mythology retelling in two ways—by centering the tale on an event or on a character. If you go with an event, you have more freedom to focus on the choosiest bits, though at the expense of some character development. But if you pick a character, while you get the advantage of sketching them in sharp relief, you must more or less tell their whole life story, and some parts just aren't as interesting as others.

And so the middle of Medusa's tale sagged a bit from this exact phenomenon. We've moved on from the exciting introduction to our heroine and her bid to leave her childhood home. And we haven't yet gotten to the pivotal moment when she would become the legendary monster of so much fame and infamy. Instead, she's just living her life day to day, trying to make it as an acolyte in Athena's temple.

My other issue with this story is that certain sections come across a bit too obvious and modern in its lessons. This is a clearly a female rage story, but some of the dialogue are a bit too aware of this fact and apply a contemporary language in its examination of misogyny. That doesn't really match the ancient tone of the story and as a result, it pulled me out for a bit.

But small quibbles aside, this is such an interesting take on an often maligned character. Medusa is more than just the monster and myth she ends up being, and this story does her justice, bring all of her beauty and complexity and duality to life.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Then again, maybe the reason why her investigation is going so well is because no one expects a tea expert to also be an expert at solving murder mysteries.

The mystery here was undoubtedly a fun one. But the real question is, how did I feel about Vera? Well, the verdict's still out on that.

Let's start with the mystery. What really worked for me was its simplicity. Sometimes, it feels like authors kind of go crazy trying to cram as many twists and turns and red herrings as possible into one story, and the result is so convoluted, it leaves you more confused than anything else. But with this one, we have just a few "suspects" and so as a reader, you're really able to settle in and enjoy the ride without being overwhelmed by too much intricacy.

And when we get to the big reveal, it's very satisfying. The simplicity makes everything easy to understand and hence the eureka moment feels like it has a bigger impact. So kudos to Jesse Q. Sutanto for doing such a good job on that, which can often be the most challenging component in a book of this genre.

But where I ran into trouble is with Vera. She's very abrasive, to the point of being unlikable. Now before you all come at me to explain what satire is, I get what the author was trying to do. Vera is meant to be a fun, tongue-in-the-cheek representation of the sort of overbearing and overreaching Asian parent we all know and love. And believe me, I know them intimately.

But Vera's personality is taken so far in the direction of being bossy and pushy and just plain wacky that it's hard to see her humanity. In other words, the satire turned into a caricature, and that just didn't work as well for me.

It isn't just Vera though. All the characters seemed a little bit off, their reactions forced, their conflicts exaggerated, their feeling of being wronged inflated and theatrical. This led to the persistent feeling that everything's for show and we're being sold a story, and that it's more farcical than genuine.

No doubt this story could've benefited from a more deft and subtle sketching out of Vera's character. But maybe that's on purpose. I read one of the author's other books, and it very much had the same over the top vibes, so it could very well be that this is the style Sutanto was aiming for and has achieved.

Thankfully, once the story gets going after the first 100 pages, it becomes more tolerable and even a little bit fun. We now have a mystery to solve, so Vera has something to occupy her attention other than just harassing the unsuspecting people around her. We also get more time with the other characters, which is a welcome reprieve from Vera, though they were often nutty in their own way.

Clearly, my dislike of Vera is in the minority. I see tons of reviewers being charmed by the very facets of her personality I find objectionable and offensive. And my only explanation is that maybe her character hits a bit too close to home for me to find it funny. But if you don't come from a culture with a lot of Veras, then maybe this story would inspire more of the delightful reaction it was undoubtedly going for.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

"Cause of death, age of death."

There are certain themes that speak to just about every reader, and the idea of learning your future is one of them. What would you do if you knew how long you had left to live? Would you try to change the outcome for the better, or just surrender to destiny? Those are the thoughts that every single passenger on the flight from Hobart to Sydney would grapple with in the weeks and months following that fateful journey.

But the problem with that theme is that inevitably, the premise is more profound than what comes after. And so here, we have the same problem. After the portentous event, we follow multiple characters as they go back to living their lives, and they're all the sort of somewhat interesting but mostly humdrum lives you'd expect of anyone learning they could (or could not) die in the near (or far) future.

I don't blame Liane Moriarty, at least not entirely. I can't recall a single time any book has tried to tackle this theme and ended up wowing me. No doubt it's a seductive topic, but it's one where when you dig a little deeper, the result can only be one cliché after another — live each day as if it's your last, do the thing you've been putting off, don't let love pass you by, open your eyes to what's in front of you, so on and so forth.

But what I do blame Liane Moriarty for is the extreme unevenness between the various points of view. In true ensemble cast style, every character must have a turn, no matter how compelling or dull their perspectives. And it's just our luck that the one Moriarty chooses to focus on the most, the lady who makes the predictions, is the dullest of them all.

At least with the other characters' points of view, they have all just learned of their supposed demise, and so there is something worthwhile and interesting to fixate on. But with Cherry, there isn't anything of that sort. She's the catalyst of everyone else's crisis, but she herself is rather boring, fussy, and even a bit unlikeable. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, we are forced to read through her entire origin story, and it really sucked the life out of the whole tale.

I'm honestly puzzled. This book was way too long for its content, and we could've easily trimmed off the bulk of the meander by condensing or even axing Cherry's point of view. But as it stands, her parts were such a nonstory, they just added dull upon dull to the narrative. I thought maybe her account was included because we would eventually come upon some incredible revelation or insight, but no, I read/skimmed through it all just to be sure there wasn't.

Liane Moriarty does best when she focuses on dysfunctional domestic drama while adding in her signature sprinkles of wit and satire. But this story veered too far off course. Even though some of the characters were interesting, the Cherry narrative really dragged the whole thing down and left me with a rather tedious taste in my mouth.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Thursday Murder Club is the series that just keeps giving and giving, and The Impossible Fortune is yet another marvelous installment.

This time, our gang is celebrating the wedding of Joyce's daughter. With so much grief in their lives recently, it's nice to see our septuagenarians come together for something joyful instead. Soon enough though, the groom's best man has disappeared, and that's just the beginning of the chaos and mayhem that awaits our group.

This was a fun little mystery, with enough components and moving parts in it to feel like a jigsaw puzzle. Steadily, the pieces come together and slot in, and it's satisfying to follow along and see how it all plays out.

But let's be real. I don't read this series for its mysteries (delightful though they may be), and neither do you. We all read it for the characters, who have slowly but surely worked their way into our hearts over the course of five wonderful books. I count Joyce, Elizabeth, Ron, and Ibrahim as old friends now, and the feeling of warmth and affection rushes back in every time I open one of these books.

Richard Osman has taken something we fear, something that's coming for us all—growing old and feeble—and written it with such sensitivity and sly humor, we have no choice but to love it. I can only hope, when I've reached this age, that I can still live with the sort of dignity and purpose and joy that Osman has so carefully sketched out for his endearing characters.

At this point, Richard Osman should be considered a national treasure, and he must never ever stop writing. Even though I've just finished this book, I'm already waiting with bated breath for the next one. It cannot come soon enough.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

I understand that thrillers are meant to be popcorn reads and so they're held to a different standard than other genres. But they still have to meet a certain bar, and The Overnight Guest just did not get there whatsoever.

Let's start with the characters. When it comes to thrillers, I’ve seen a lot of dumb characters, but Wylie has got to be the dumbest of them all. She makes one bad decision after another, and it's honestly painful to follow along as she blunders around. At one point, someone actually spelled out for her what really happened, and she still couldn’t put two and two together.

The rest of the characters were pretty much cardboard cutouts of typical thriller characters — scared victims, worried mothers, serious investigators, and shady would-be villains. No one really came alive, so it was hard for me to care what happened or whodunnit.

This story has so many separate storylines, and yet not one of them was compelling. The triple narrative threads, in theory a good idea that should have them converge into a single cohesive narrative, was in actuality just a vehicle for the story to jump around every few pages. Just as I'm getting into whatever the current storyline is, bam! I'm yanked out to somewhere else.

As the story moves along, it starts to rely on an ever growing list of coincidences and plot holes and just plain ridiculous developments to propel it forward. Each time something absurd happens, I'm amazed at both the gumption of the author and the gullibility of the reader that it's actually allowed to stand.

I feel like there's a turning point maybe two-thirds of the way through, and after that, it’s pretty clear what happened and also what’s going to happen. And then the rest of the story is devoted to spelling out in long form what's already obvious, to the dread of every reader on the verge of a slump, including me.

I’m honestly a little confused by the high ratings on this one. If you’ve read any thrillers at all, you’ll see what’s coming from a mile away. And unless cheering on foolish and slow-witted characters is your jam, I don't see what else this one has to offer.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

Here I was, thinking I was going to have to run out and buy every single Jane Austen novel, to the consternation of my wallet. So it's with relief to realize that I can safely strike Sense and Sensibility off my list.

Coming off of Pride and Prejudice, I couldn't wait to dive into more Jane Austen, and Sense and Sensibility had always been high on my list. But from the very start, this book felt like the more lackluster and spiritless cousin of its more famous successor, and it never really picked up from there.

I think my biggest problem is that the vast majority of this book comes off as a lecture. It's essentially a monologue of social commentary, but camouflaged as dialogue. A character would expound at length about a certain view, then another character would take their leisurely turn on the opposite view. And so they'd go back and forth, back and forth, explaining every facet of the argument in overwhelming detail until I had no choice but to cry submission.

I don't know what to say except there are two things which annoy me to no end in writing—all tell no show, and overexplaining—and this book somehow managed to achieve both. And it did so for almost the entire length of this book.

There were moments when the story came alive, but it never lasted longer than a few paragraphs before the dreaded overexplaining was back. It was almost impossible to concentrate and lose myself in the story, for every time I did, I was immediately yanked out by more unnecessary yakking.

Where was the spark? Where was the wit? The characters were so flat, it was hard to imagine them falling in love or really feeling anything at all. I wanted to adore Elinor and Marianne and Edward and Colonel Brandon, but they were so bland on the pages, my imagination could not supply the necessary emotions.

This was a particularly bitter disappointment for me because the film adaptation (directed by Ang Lee and starring Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet) is one of my favorites of all time. Where the film was suffused with so much emotion and such dynamic characters, the book was but a watered down facsimile.

Is it possible that my love and previous experiences with the film colored my perspectives of the book? I mean, it's certainly possible. But it's hard to say which way it swayed me. Maybe the film set my expectations of the book so high it was bound to fall short. But it's just as likely that without having already adored the characters going in, I would've found the book even more lifeless than I already did.

As I understand it, this was Jane Austen's first full length novel, so it's possible she was using this to refine the social commentary and insightful wit that would bring her so much fame in her later works. And while I can see bits of them here and there, she hadn't quite gotten there yet with this book.

So if you haven't read Sense and Sensibility, I recommend skipping it altogether and just going straight to the film, because this is the rare case where the film is better. And if you haven't read any Jane Austen at all, I definitely don't recommend starting with this one.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

My first Jane Austen, and goodness gracious me! It was so delightful, my only regret is I waited so long to read it.

For me, classics have always been intimidating. English isn't my first language, and I remember struggling in high school, trying to make heads and tails of whatever archaic passages we were forced to read with nary a success. Fast forward to adulthood, and my attempts at classics were yet again met with boredom and hardly any returns for the amount of hours spent. (I'm looking at you, Anna Karenina).

So even though there's so much love for Jane Austen, and I've been curious for quite some time, I held off. I didn't want to put the effort in, only to be bored out of my mind for tens of hours, reading and rereading long paragraphs of ideas and norms which no longer applied and quite frankly, no one cared. (Yeah, Anna Karenina really traumatized me.)

But slowly and surely, my curiosity could no longer be held off, and my questionable experiences with classics were softened in my memories with time gone by. So I braced myself and dove into Pride and Prejudice with equal parts excitement and apprehension.

And at first, I thought I'd made a terrible mistake. The writing was as impenetrable as I feared, the characters a bit silly, and the domestic drama too outdated to really appeal to a modern reader. But then, after a few chapters of really soldiering on, something miraculous happened. It was like a switch had flipped and my mind crossed over into 19th century England. The writing, the characters, the drama—they all came alive, and from that moment on, I was hooked.

Everyone's always talking about how witty Jane Austen is, and boy on boy, they're not kidding. The dialogue is just one zing after another, leaving me in wonder after almost every sentence. I often found myself lingering and savoring, just to make sure I got every bit of pleasure out that I could.

I was riveted, as riveted as I'd ever been with any contemporary book of any genre. And maybe that surprised me more than anything else. I expected a slog, one I'd have to wade through with much reluctance and under duress. Instead, I'd found that magical, liminal space between the real and the fictional, and proceeded to occupy it with such ferocity, I blew through the book and hardly surfaced for breath.

The domestic and matrimonial dramas within still felt fresh and relevant to today, even though surely we've come far in the last few hundred years. And the characters still rang true with all their strength and weaknesses. In short, I think Austen pressed in on the foibles of human nature, and I'm certain those will never become irrelevant, no matter where our society is headed.

One thing that's really interesting about reading a book like this is knowing just how influential it will come to be and thus being able to experience the story from that angle. So many books and even entire genres (hello, regency romance!) have followed in the footsteps of Jane Austen, and to see their inspiration is as fascinating as it is illuminating.

All this praise isn't to say this is an easy read, per se. After all, the book was written hundreds of years ago and the constantly evolving nature of language, being what it is, has moved past this more convoluted and restrained style. But if you're willing to put in the effort, especially at the beginning, this is one of those books that does richly reward you for your hard work.

I will say, it's a good thing I don't live back in the day. I'm such a literal and straightforward person, I can totally see myself bumbling around in the 19th century, offending everyone, embarrassing the family name, and agreeing to all sorts of marriages without any inkling of what I'd done.

If ever there was a book that could be a gateway drug to anything, it would be this book to Jane Austen for me. I feel like the floodgates have opened, the dam burst, the Pandora's box unsealed. And the only way forward is to read more Jane Austen.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!