"You’re living for a dream of a home that no longer exists."

At once intimate and sweeping, Pachinko takes us on a journey of one Korean family's struggle for survival, first in Korea, then in Japan. Set against the backdrop of Japan's brutal occupation of Korea, these poignant characters and their enduring legacy will linger in my mind long after I've turned the final page.

From the very first moment, the story transported me. Min Jin Lee has this way of writing that feels both straightforward and beautifully stirring. Her characters are fully realized, the plot tightly wound and historically relevant. But it's her deftness at capturing the range of emotions through the entire narrative arc of four generations of a single family that really sets her writing apart.

For such a long book, it certainly didn't feel like it. I always go on and on about how I want an immersive read to really sink my teeth into, and this was it. I flew through it, gobbling up this family saga and feeling bereft when I reached the end and had to say goodbye.

At its core, this story pays tribute to the immigrant experience and the need in all of us to find a place we can call home. Every character in here, through whatever trials and tribulations come their way, remains steadfast in their fervent hope to belong. They left their motherland of Korea, and the people there no longer consider them countrymen. But their new adopted country of Japan doesn't want them either, viewing them with contempt and loathing. In the face of such alienation from all sides, where can one call home?

I find Lee's portrayal of the often diverging experiences for different generations in the same immigrant family to be particularly astute. Sunja is first generation, making unimaginable choices and sacrifices to give her children a better life. But her children cannot possibly understand the costs and hardships they've never paid nor experienced, and so this wide gulf opens between the parent and the child. And that gulf can never be bridged, for in Sunja's shielding of her children from her struggles, she also prevents them from ever truly understanding who she is.

My heart ached for these characters. They go through so much, leaving everything they know behind—their families, their homes, their culture and language—just to have a chance to put food on the table and not go hungry. But it's not all sadness and anguish. There's still joy and happiness and love to be found. It just goes to show that life goes on, even in the most uncertain of circumstances, and that the human spirit endures.

Regarding the Japan-Korea conflict that serves as the backdrop, it's clear Lee did extensive research for this story. There is a level of authenticity embedded within that cannot possibly be imitated other than for the author to have heard firsthand what really happened during that period. Going in, I didn't realize the extent of Japan's aggression and occupation throughout Korea, so this story was particularly enlightening in that regard. It put a lot into perspective and helped me understand the feelings of hostility and resentment that still linger to this day, many decades after the war has ended.

When it comes to historical fiction, I can be hard to please. Often, I find the treatment of the main historical event (which is almost always a war) to be too heavy-handed, weighing down the whole narrative with a pervasive despair that feels more like emotional manipulation or trauma porn. Or that the treatment is too light, leading to shallow characters acting out frivolous desires not at all in line with famine and war. But this story gets it right, putting its characters center stage, and we never lose sight of their dignity and humanity through their struggles.

If I had one quibble, it would be that the first half of the book felt just a smidge more gripping than the second half. There were fewer characters, and I was really able to immerse myself into the tighter dynamics. As the story went on and the family got larger through the generations, it necessitated introducing more characters. And the flipping back and forth between so many different people and also the timeline jumps forward through the years lost some of the book's prior focus and momentum. But that is really a small quibble in an otherwise peerless tale.

When I come across a gem of a book like this, it's often hard to distill my thoughts down to just a few paragraphs. So much of this story feels special. But maybe the one overarching reason is that in this one Korean family—in their intense familial bond, their resilience and sacrifice, their unwavering hope for the future—we really see ourselves and the history of our own families reflected back to us.

What an absolutely stunning literary masterpiece this turned out to be. With its quietly deft prose and memorable characters, it sweeps across the landscape of historical fiction and family sagas, and cements itself as a classic of our time.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

After two books, I'm starting to get a feel for Marcus Kliewer. His stories never make much sense, there's a real dearth of anything resembling an explanation, but you sure do feel a compulsive need to turn the pages.

Before we begin, a confession. I'm not much of a horror girlie. I can count on two hands the number of books I've read in the genre. And when it comes to horror films, you can forget about it. I'm either cowering in the corner as the eerie music plays, or I'm hiding behind my hands while making my husband narrate the whole thing. So when I pick up a horror book, it's with much trepidation and a commitment to only read during the daylight hours. But you know what, I never have to worry with Marcus Kliewer, because his book just aren't that scary.

The Caretaker has an interesting enough premise. Macy needs money desperately, so she answers an ad for housesitting. For only three days of work, she can make nine thousand dollars. Sure, the house is isolated and it gives off weird vibes and she doesn't really know what her duties are. But how hard can it be? Well, you know what they say about something being too good to be true, so Macy's definitely in for a rough time.

I thought the initial chapters were fantastic. The introduction of the house and the Carnswels and the caretaker job were all steeped in creepy, mysterious vibes. There was this feeling that we were building up to something big, something that was going to knock my socks off.

But then we come to the actual meat of the story itself, which is the eponymous caretaker job. Turning lights on and off, catching rabbits, staying awake through the witching hour. For every task, there was Macy, almost getting it, but oh no, messing it up at the very last moment. And every time she messes up, she must await further, ever more kooky instructions in order to make it right. And lo and behold, she does not complete a single task correctly. And so the cycle repeats.

Sigh. Is turning lights on and off that scary or interesting? Unfortunately, no. What about chasing down rabbits, or hiding from people knocking on your door? Also, no. They feel more like chores that need to be done, and wacky ones at that. After a while, I felt the urge to laugh more than anything else, because how many random things can poor Macy be made to do for the sake of this story?

But no worries, folks, I hung on, cause surely there must be some amazing reveal or explanation that will make this choreful journey worthwhile. But alas, Marcus Kliewer, you got me good there. Cause not only did the strange chores take up pretty much the entire rest of the story, but you just ended things with no real explanation or wrap up.

I should've known. These are all the same issues I had with Kliewer's previous book. All this great buildup and nothing really comes of it. His books feel like they are more targeted towards the film medium. While this sort of open-endedness might work for movies, it doesn't really work for books, at least in my humble opinion.

I don't want to sell the story short. It has a compulsive readability that rivals the best of thrillers, and I certainly kept going until the very last page. But without any real explanation or ending, I just can't find satisfaction.

Horror, maybe more than any other genre, feels so diverse in reactions and opinions. What works for one reader may or may not work for another. So if you're at all curious about Kliewer, you should give him a try. Between his two books, I would say I enjoyed this one a little bit more than his debut. So my recommendation is to start here and see if Kliewer's brand of horror works for you.

Readaroo Rating: 3.5 stars

"We’re not going to leave the island… None of us will ever leave … It’s the end, you see—the end of everything…."

Even amongst the tableau of exceptional mysteries that Agatha Christie is known for, And Then There Were None stands out as something extraordinary. It is arguably Christie's most beloved piece of work, and for good reason.

Right from the start, this story feels unusual and steeped in atmosphere. Ten strangers are summoned to Soldier Island, but when they arrive, the host is missing. The guests look at each other with suspicion. Why are they here? What could be the purpose of such a gathering? Soon a storm arrives and cuts off all ability to leave the island. And they start dying, one by one.

Ah, a locked-room mystery. My word, is there anything better? When done right, it offers such delight and satisfaction, and this story is the quintessential example. No one can get off the island, no one can get on the island. So it must be one of the guests. But which one is it? And how are they doing it?

This is quite an intricate mystery, with many characters and moving parts. There's lots going on on the surface and also underneath, which we'll come to understand later. Christie herself even mentioned that this was a difficult one for her to write, requiring lots of careful planning to come to fruition. But all that meticulousness certainly paid off.

But don't let the intricacy scare you off. It doesn't negatively impact reading experience, it only enhances it. In fact, this is exactly Christie's signature style—simple and straightforward writing, confounding mystery with carefully placed red herrings, and when the reveal comes, there's always that clear and satisfying feeling of a perfect eureka moment.

If you're more used to reading modern thrillers, mysteries like this can feel very different. The modern thriller prioritizes outlandish twists and psychological drama, whereas these Golden Age mysteries are all about the inherent puzzle within. In the spirit of fair play, the reader is given access to all the clues, and if you're clever enough, you might just armchair detect your way to the right answer before the book reveals it to you.

The first time I read this, I was left in awe. No no, I think that's too mild of a phrase. I was shaken to my core. I was thirteen at the time, and my homeroom teacher had a collection of Agatha Christie's on his shelf. I'd never read anything like them, and I inhaled the whole lot. So started my love affair with the mystery genre and the Queen of Crime. To this day, Agatha Christie remains one of my favorite authors, and I happily reach for her books again and again.

If you're a mystery reader and somehow this book has escaped your attention, it's absolutely worth adding to your list. It's impossible to understand the landscape of modern mysteries without having seen where they come from. In fact, I don't think it's too much of an exaggeration to say all the mysteries I've ever loved have probably taken every single one of their conceits from Christie's books. And this one in particular has inspired so many riffs, it would be a travesty to read those without having known the original.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

When it comes to satire, Kevin Kwan understands the assignment. So it's no surprise that China Rich Girlfriend is just as fun, just as frothy, and just as sharply insightful as its predecessor.

Stepping into the sophomore book of an author who has hit it out of the park with their debut, I'm always a bit uncertain. Did I hallucinate my enjoyment? Was it a one hit wonder? Can the author really recreate the magic once again? Well, now that I've read a few Kevin Kwan books, I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. I didn't imagine it, it wasn't in my head. Kwan writes satire aimed straight at my heart and my funny bone, and I'm happy to soak up every single line.

The characters, their drama and antics, the peculiar situations they find themselves in, all feel both outrageous and familiar. Reading this was like stepping back into a culture I knew intimately. The expectation of filial piety, the inability of different generations to communicate effectively, the preference to acquire things over experiences, all made so much sense to me.

In a satire, the characters are key. Fleshing them out and imbuing them with humanity is how you ground the story and prevent it from turning into a mockery. And Kwan does so masterfully. I empathized with all the characters, I understood why they do what they do. Even the most abrasive among them never turn into caricatures, and that's skillful indeed.

It was fun to see some of the side characters of the first book get their due in this one. Everyone wanted more of Astrid, and this book certainly brings that wish to fruition. But my surprise favorite was Kitty Pong, the butt of the joke in the first book, but a leading lady here. She and Corinna really stole the show in this one, and Corinna's dossier for Kitty was one of the real highlights of the book.

I'm amazed at how much authentic details Kwan is able to add into all of his stories. The art, the fashion, the history all come from the real world, and they help make this feel borderline biographic. It might be fun to read dishy gossip about made-up characters, but to read about ones that actually come across as real? That takes it to a whole 'nother level.

I also have to give a nod to the setting. It was a joy to experience Shanghai, the city of my birth and early years, through the eyes of this story. I am forever missing this glittering metropolis with its delicious food and vivid skylines, so I definitely won't say no to such a sensational visit, even if it's just within the pages of a book.

I'm finding myself enjoying Kevin Kwan more and more. He really has an eye for social commentary, and his satirical take on crazy Asian families is the best combination of honest and funny. He sees the absurdity in human nature and paints all that folly in such delightful strokes, I have no choice but to laugh and revel in it with him.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

When you talk about stories that pack a punch, The Language of Liars sure got me pretty good. And the fact that it's a slim 150 pages? Well, that just means the wallop was even more powerful.

I went into this not quite knowing what to expect. All this talk about language and linguistics means I can't help but compare it to another book that came out not too long ago. (If you know it, you know it.) That book was excruciating long and dull and preferred to beat the reader over the head with its simplistic messages. Was I in for the same treatment here?

Thankfully no. Though both tales centered around the insidiousness of colonialism and using language for power, the execution couldn't be more different. This story felt unique, innovative, and provocative, and it's exactly the sort of memorable tale I'm always searching for.

If you know me, you know I'm a bit of nut for science fiction. It's probably my favorite genre, and when done right, it encapsulates all that makes us human—our endless need for exploration and connection and compassion. And that's exactly what we get here. Our main character Ro isn't even human, yet his quest to understand different species and languages and cultures, as well as his moral dilemmas, couldn't be more relatable. (In fact, it reminded me a lot of Star Trek: The Next Generation, an old fav of mine.)

The way this story builds up is quite masterful, all reaching towards a climax that's about as striking as you could hope for. It's been a while since a story has so thoroughly and metaphorically beaten me up, so I'm definitely going to be remembering this for quite a while.

Regarding the length, I've been loving novellas more and more recently. The shorter format means we don't have any time to waste. There's no long winded worldbuilding, no getting stuck in the weeds. The more compact style of storytelling necessitates jumping straight into the good stuff, and in return, the narrative demands our upmost attention in order to follow along.

A quick note—there is a fair bit of linguistics jargon in here, especially in the beginning, but don't let that bog you down. You don't need to grasp all the technical terms in order to understand or appreciate the tale. Just try to power through it and you'll be richly rewarded. In fact, once I got through the initial pages, I read the rest of the book in one long inhale.

If you're a science fiction nut and the sort to enjoy a story that's both stimulating and brutal, don't let this one pass you by. I bet you're going to be remembering it for a long time too.

Readaroo Rating: 4.5 stars

Ugh, sorry to always be the contrarian. I see reader after reader calling this their favorite Sally Hepworth, but for me, Mad Mabel fell just a bit short of the author's best.

But first, let's set expectations. Sally Hepworth's books are always labeled as mystery/thrillers, but they are not. In fact, if you went into it thinking you're signing up for some big brouhaha with lots of twists and turns, you'd be sorely disappointed.

Hepworth writes domestic suspense with a heavy emphasis on the characters and their personal and interpersonal drama, and the suspense comes from the story's construction. In other words, there's nothing necessarily suspenseful going on in the plot itself, it's more the way Hepworth weaves the timelines and points of view that creates the tension. 

And maybe, when put like that, I can already see why I felt more lukewarm towards this book than some of her others. None of the things that usually grab me in a Sally Hepworth story did in this one. The characters, the drama, even the tension in here all felt a bit superficial and ho hum, like I've seen it all before.

Old person who's grouchy on the outside and sweet on the inside? Check. Old person and young child form a friendship? Check. Old person's heart finally thaws after said friendship? Check.

This is a dual timeline and I had trouble connecting with Mabel in both, which is difficult to forgive in a character-driven story. The series of bad things that happens to the young Mabel felt overdone, relying heavily on coincidences and piled on past the point of believability to maximize emotional turmoil. And the portrayal of old Mabel felt surprisingly shallow, laying it on thick with the aforementioned old-person grouchiness, but I had trouble finding the sweetness underneath.

Speaking of seeing it all before, there is a revelation towards the end of the book that I figured out almost immediately. [View spoiler below]

And so for all these reasons, it didn't feel like the story was propelling me forward so much as I was dragging it along. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't bad by any means; it just didn't grab me the same way Hepworth's books usually do.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

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[Spoiler} Like, come on, of course only Mabel could see Daphne! The Sixth Sense has seared this exact feint into the memory of every single person from now until the end of time. It was so masterfully done in the film and so strikingly memorable that no one could ever pull the same wool over our eyes again. M. Night Shyamalan is the first and only person to have succeeded at this sleight of hand, and Sally Hepworth unfortunately did not.

Huh. So you guys didn't like this one? Well, that's a bit awkward, cause I'm over here having a pretty good time with it.

Now, usually I'm on Outlier Island having to apologize for hating on a book everyone's loving. But this time, it's the opposite. Consensus seems to be that this story didn't quite reach its potential, but you could've fooled me. In fact, I had so much fun with The Ending Writes Itself, I'm kind of sad it's over.

After giving it some thought, I do have a few theories as to why it worked for me but maybe not for a lot of other readers out there, so let me have a crack at explaining.

1. This book is by an author duo, one of whom is V.E. Schwab (of Addie LaRue fame). Schwab is known for writing fantasies with lyrical, descriptive, verbose (take your pick) prose, and this is definitely not that. Truth be told, I actually wasn't that big of a fan of Addie, so it was a relief to read something from Schwab that was less long-winded and more straightforward. But if you're a big Addie fan and came here looking for more of the same, this may not have anything to offer you.

2. Across the board, I'm a big fan of stories that peek behind the curtain into the world of writing and publishing. And if that peek happens to be a bit satirical and tongue-in-the-cheek? Even better. So I had a great time following along as these writers competed to finish a dead author's greatest work. But I can also see how, if that topic doesn't interest you, then this would seem like much ado about nothing.

3. This is a riff on And Then There Were None, and I think in order to fully understand and enjoy the way this tale unfolds, you do have to have read the classic first. Otherwise, this doesn't really make much sense and can come off as somewhat random and unhinged. I'm a huge Agatha Christie fan, and And Then There Were None is one of my all-time favorites by her, so this was right up my alley. This isn't the first riff I've come across, nor is it the best, but it is a fun one and definitely scratched my infinite itch for anything Christie related.

So there you go. Hopefully that gives you a better idea of whether this book might be for you. But if my experience is any indication, sometimes you can never tell. At the end of the day, we are all individual readers, and the only way to know for sure if you'll like a book is to pick it up and see for yourself.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars