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

When you talk about elderly do-gooders sticking their noses where they don't belong and sussing out nefarious killers and ne'er-do-wells, you have to admit that Jane Marple is about as OG as they get.

It's been a bit since I've read a Miss Marple—almost seven years now—so I can be forgiven for failing to remember just how much I adore her. There is something about her fluffy mannerisms and her piercing insight into human nature that makes for a thoroughly delightful combination. In fact, even though Poirot is the most famous Agatha Christie detective, I suspect many of us secretly like Miss Marple a lot more, myself included.

Because Miss Marple is an amateur sleuth and not an official one, her stories feel a lot more organic compared to Poirot's. The mysteries unfold naturally around her, and we get to know all the players in the course of the narrative without them having to be hauled in for interviews one by one in a repetitive fashion. As such, her stories align much more with the flow of contemporary books, making them come across less dated and more timeless.

Speaking of modern, this one in particular reminds me a lot of neighborhood thrillers, just without the wacky twists and psychological melodrama you'd expect from more contemporary offerings. And just like its modern counterpart, every character in here has something to hide, and the lies and secrets pile up pretty quickly.

Agatha Christie writes with no frills. There is a simplicity and directness to her writing that belies the complex mystery underneath. After all, if everything appears straightforward, where possibly could the clues hide? And yet, she gets me good every time. No one does misdirection and red herrings quite like her, and no matter how I prepare myself, I keep falling into her traps.

Needless to say, I had lots of fun with this one and that's not just for an old book. The characters were interesting, the dialogue zippy and droll, and the situations sly winks to the predictability and folly of human nature. Agatha Christie might have written Miss Marple to be the keen observer of people, but underneath, it's really the author who is so.

Now obviously, if you've read Agatha Christie, then you don't need me over here making recommendations on books you already know. But if you haven't read her yet and you're a fan of neighborhood thrillers, let me submit this one for your consideration. It's a classic for a reason, and then you'll know what the fuss is all about.

"It is a mystery to me how anyone ever gets any nourishment in this place. They must eat their meals standing up by the window so as to be sure of not missing anything."

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

If nostalgia for young love and the lost days of summer had a name, it would be Every Summer After.

I'm always on the lookout for the quintessential summer read. There's nothing more satisfying than finding that perfect book to suit my mercurial moods during the long, lazy, too-bright days of my favorite season. And Carley Fortune has been on my radar for ages, ever since this book, her debut, catapulted her to the stratosphere of famous beach read authors. So it was with quite a bit of excitement and glee that I turned to that first page and prepared to be wowed.

But nothing happened, at least not initially. I was not pleased, nor was I displeased. It just felt like a very generic start to such a story, and there are many ones like it out there. But then, the more I read, the more I was taken in—with the characters, with the drama, but most importantly, with the feelings it evoked in me of a time gone by and the bittersweet memories it left behind.

And I think that's where this story really shines. It isn't so much that the more I read, the more I grew to love the tale, but rather, the more I was reminded of my own youth—the magical feeling of having my whole life stretched out in front me, the limitless possibilities and loves and adventures, the inevitable mistakes, and hurting the people I loved on the path to discovering who I really was.

This is a second chance romance, and I personally think those are hard to write. You have to not only come up with a strong enough love to begin with, but then you have to add in a plausible reason why such an auspicious couple cannot possibly be together, often for many years. And then after that, you have to come up with even more plausible reasons why these two sad characters can finally resolve all their previously unsolvable problems and get their happily ever after. Like phew, just thinking about all that makes me tired.

But no worries here, Fortune did a good job. She expertly interweaved the two timelines, one spanning the six years of Percy and Sam's youth, the other over one weekend twelve years later. Each brought something to the table, though it's clear the past timeline was the heart of this story. Percy and Sam's developing friendship and relationship through all the summer days of their youth, sketched through the glittering lens of Fortune's writing, captured all that is wonderful and beautiful and heartbreaking about growing up.

It's been a minute (or a few decades) since I was a teenager, and nowadays, I often have trouble connecting with stories featuring such young leads, usually finding them too immature or angsty to endure for a few hundred pages. But the ones in here were uncommonly responsible, with enough emotional depth to make them feel relatable and compelling.

While this wasn't a perfect tale, and there were definitely moments it felt like a debut author trying to find her legs or I had to suspend yet more disbelief in order to buy into the characters' actions, it did hold me in its thralls the way a good beach read should. I ended it feeling a little bereft at having to say goodbye to Barry's Bay, so I was happy to discover the existence of a sequel.

If you haven't tried Carley Fortune and you're a fan of beach reads, this is absolutely worth a gander. As for me, I've had the urge to listen to "The Boys Of Summer" this entire time. (Of course the original by Don Henley is fab, but my favorite remains the cover by DJ Sammy). So I'm going to go do that right now.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

What is it all the kids say nowadays? No notes, so good! Just kidding though, cause I have lots of notes.

So this is Alex Finlay doing what he does best. Everything I love about his thrillers is here—the characters, the mystery, the writing, not to mention the sheer intensity. I was drawn in from the very first page, and from there on out, I was holding my breath and turning the pages as fast as I could until I reached the very end.

To follow two characters as they try to figure out their own individual mysteries is an intriguing setup. Jules survived the May Day Killer, but is he coming back for her? And Quinn, fresh out of juvi, must find out who murdered his mother. Their two storylines weave back and forth, drawing closer and closer in the way that mysteries must, until everything ultimately collides into a satisfying conclusion.

We really get to know Jules and Quinn throughout this story. Some thrillers can come across a bit random because the characters feel interchangeable, but not here. Here, the dual points of view serve to sear these characters into our minds, and their growth and triumph is at the heart of this story's appeal.

When it comes to thrillers, I feel like I'm always complaining about how there's so much filler. Often, for large swaths of the narrative, nothing is happening, yet we follow character after character as they wallow and ruminate and jump at the shadows. So it's quite a breath of fresh air to get one where every chapter, every scene brings something urgent to the table.

A large reason for this is due to the book's unusual structure. Its timeline takes place exclusively on May 1st, year after year. We start in 1992, and then we jump to the same day the following year, and on it goes. And because there is so much time in between not covered, so much left unsaid within the pages, it necessitates a tighter narrative that strips away all the fluff and filler, automatically amping up the tension and making it unputdownable.

My only quibble is that the mystery component—and maybe it's more my fault than the story's—is too obvious. Normally when I read a mystery, I may start to get an inkling of what's going on, and by the end, I've gotten some things right and some things wrong. But in this case, I called it all and I did it with a large portion of the story still left. It doesn't take away substantially from my enjoyment of the whole thing, but I did wish for a eureka moment that never really materialized, at least for me.

Quibble aside, I had a lot of fun with this one. I loved Alex Finlay's first two books, heard his next few were a bit middling so I skipped, and here we are now. If you haven't read any Alex Finlay, you can't start with a better one. And if you've been holding off like I have, well, come on over cause he's back.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Advertised as both a mystery and a romance, This Story Might Save Your Life somehow managed to fail me on both counts. The mystery was mediocre, the romance was icky, and the fervent adulation this book's been receiving has me scratching my head in confusion.

Let's take this one at a time. First, the mystery. Talk about much ado over nothing. You'd think with two people missing, there'll be juicy tidbits and surprising twists galore. But instead, we're literally sifting through clues like "xyz" and "ayyy" and acting like they're the smoking gun—I'm not even kidding. And this Benny guy, for a podcaster, can't even converse. His way of figuring things out was to badger everyone he knows and put his foot in his mouth over and over again.

The writing was very much in the way of a lot of domestic thrillers, aiming to be as opaque as possible in order to ratchet up the tension. So instead of just spitting it out, we get a lot of references to "the incident" and "you-know-who" just to add to the murkiness. But the thing is, having a story that is artificially ambiguous isn't the same as having an actually suspenseful mystery, and my brain was not fooled.

Then we get to the culmination, and I had a bit of a shocker, though not from surprise or delight. Let's just say, when you're reading a mystery, you never ever want the resolution to be a deus ex machina. And then, to really cement the lunacy, the wrap up proceeded to spell out in long, confusing, tortuous detail the entire ridiculous series of events that led to Joy's disappearance.

Now, onto the romance. I don't have a problem in general with infidelity in a story. In fact, I enjoy reading about it because I think real life is messy and complicated. But I do have a problem when emotional infidelity is presented as some sort of great love story, and that's what happened here. Joy and Benny were both married to other people, and they met and married those people after they met and fell in love with each other. So what exactly was their excuse other than sheer stupidity?

There was also the additional hook of a podcast, which Joy and Benny helm to the tune of millions of dollars and listeners. Yet, every time we peek at their content, it was nothing more than inane chatter and insipid flirting. I cringed so hard.

Usually, when I read a book that's not for me, I can still see why others would enjoy it. But in this case, I'm just baffled. What do you all see that I'm not seeing? Every component in here was so middling and uninspired, it makes every other book I've read in the genre look skillful by comparison. So yeah, I'm going to be here puzzling over this for quite a while.

I stare at the Batchelder-tile fireplace, the one Joy mistakenly called a “bachelor” fireplace until Xander corrected her in his singsongy accent.

P.S. Looking back, I should've stopped when I came to this line. Because with a straight face, it implies that not only are there three people in the world who know and care what a Batchelder-tile fireplace is without working in fireplace restoration, but they're all somehow in relationships with each other. And that's exactly the level of ridiculousness this story operates under.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

It's hard to deny that Five is conceptually interesting. But unfortunately, its execution ended up feeling more gimmicky than anything else.

We follow five characters as they converge upon the training station. In a few minutes, one of them will die. Who will it be? The omniscient narrator guides the reader along until we get to that pivotal moment and all is revealed.

Let's start with the characters. When you have a story like this with an ensemble cast, where five lives intersect and change over a brief period of time, it all comes down to the characters. And the ones in here are not really what I expected. They each come with a shtick—the narcissist, the addict, the psychopath, the child psychopath, and the one that only interacts with dead people. If that all sounds a bit over the top, well, it really was.

Instead of being well-rounded individuals with some flaws, the five people in here were all taken to the extreme. Whatever their problem is, it defines every bit of who they are. There is no subtlety, there is no humanity. And when everyone is so exaggerated, it can be hard to connect and empathize with them.

Did I care what happened to these characters? No. Was I curious who would die? Not really. Because to lose one unlikable character is pretty much the same as losing another, so it was all one big shrug for me.

The other major issue is the writing. I'm sorry to say, but I found it kind of obnoxious, especially the longer it went on. The author very much chose to lean into the omniscience of the narrator, to the point that they actually came across as an insufferable know-it-all.

Review everyone’s positions. Consider what they might do next. Consider what you know that they do not, and will not, until it happens, until the train that is headed toward them is unable to stop in time.

I understand this is trying to break the fourth wall, but result was just unappealing. Instead of showing the reader and letting us figure things out for themselves, we are told what to think and how to feel every step of the way.

Life and death happen regardless of what you think, or guess, or put in your online review, or dream of, or work for, or choose, or want. Or deserve.

Yikes! This sort of grating, repetitive, and overexplanatory prose was everywhere, breaking into pivotal scenes and dispensing platitudes like they might actually be rare nuggets of wisdom.

I get it. This was supposed to be some sort of revolutionary, never before seen style of prose and storytelling. But maybe, just maybe, there is a reason no one in the past has attempted this type of narrative. And it's because instead of coming across as compelling, it's just off-putting.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

"Blood is one thing. The sight is another. But courage—that is rarest of all, Vasilisa Petrovna."

A dark, lush, achingly beautiful tale set against the coldest winters of a bygone Russia, The Bear and the Nightingale swept me away with its unforgettable characters and lyrical prose, and in the process, completely captivated my heart.

There's no feeling like picking up the first book of a fantasy series, especially one rooted in mythology and folklore. I know I will be transported to a land and time far away, full of magic and monsters and of course, the forces of good and evil fighting it out over the soul of mankind. And such was the story here, though it surpassed all my expectations.

The setting of medieval Russia and the coming of age of a girl who must cast off the chains of womanhood to achieve greatness made this feel like a tale both old and new. Our heroine Vasilisa is the heart of this story. She is so strong and fierce and courageous, even in the face of unimaginable obstacles. Following her journey and cheering her on as she stands between her home and the evil monsters bent on destroying it was an absolute delight.

The prose was sublime, and I say that as someone who's not normally fussy about such things. I'd happily take some ugly writing in exchange for a fantastic plot. But thankfully, no such tradeoff was needed here. Every line felt carefully crafted, bringing the story to life with a vividness that was not to be denied. I frequently found myself lingering, rereading sentences and passages much too beautiful to savor only once.

Often, fantasy can come across as a bit juvenile, especially if they feature a protagonist in their teens or early twenties, making the whole thing feel more YA than adult. But the author managed to sidestep that quagmire here, sketching Vasilisa with such elegant restraint and only glancing at the sort of romantic and melodramatic notions that frequently drag down other narratives in similar situations.

Two quick words of caution. One, the book very much sticks to the authentic Russian naming and nicknaming system, so the same character was often called different things by different people. This led to some confusion the first time I read it, but on reread, I had no problems. I think the different names threw me off the first time, but if you're aware going in, hopefully you'll be able to figure them out via context with minimal issues.

Two, this has a bit of a slow start. It isn't one of those stories that roars into action from the get-go. In fact, a lot of its charm lays in its gradual development as we immerse ourselves in the atmosphere and the land and its people. It isn't until a third of the way in that the action moves to the forefront and the plot really starts to reveal itself.

I am in awe of this story, all the more so because it is Katherine Arden's debut. Now that it's whet my appetite, there's no way I can stop. I want more of its wintery magic and the fierce heroine within who defies all odds. It's a good thing this isn't a standalone, and there are still two more books to come to satisfy my cravings.

"Tell us of the frost-demon, the winter-king Karachun. He is abroad tonight, and angry at the thaw."

Readaroo Rating: 4.5 stars