A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder is another charming installment of the cozy mystery series featuring the widowed Lady Frances Harleigh. One of her society acquaintances has met an unfortunate end, and the police suspect Frances' well-intentioned but bumbling cousin, Charles, of having done the deed. Frances steps in to help clear his name, and soon realizes this is anything but a straightforward crime.

This book reads very much like a typical cozy, with our main character nosing about and talking to a lot of people in the hopes that she'll stumble upon the right answer. And also just like a cozy, the book spends a good amount of time having its main and supporting characters mull over the crime, think out loud of potential motives and suspects, and ponder their next moves. It builds nicely up to the ending, which is both reasonable and satisfying.

Compared to the first book in the series, I found this one to be still fun, though not quite as exciting. I think that's largely due to the first book requiring a lot of setup and backstory, which I enjoyed tremendously, whereas this one gets right to the point with the crime. That backstory of how Frances came to be so strong and resilient at a time in history when society frowns upon women's independence was fascinating, and I wish there was more in this book. In addition to that, the witty dialogue, the romantic tension with her neighbor, and the proper Victorian decorum were all pared back a little in this book, and I miss their frequent presence.

Still, this was an entertaining cozy murder mystery, and I look forward to reading more from the series. As I usually find this genre and its focal crime to be a little bit slow, it's really the side and back stories that distinguish a terrific one from an average one. So I hope for the next one, we get a little bit more of what I love, mixed in with the cozy murders.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Things You Save in a Fire is the story of Cassie: badass firefighter, hard worker, and independent girl. When her estranged mother calls and asks Cassie move to Massachusetts and live with her for a year, she couldn't imagine uprooting her comfortable, if spartan, life in Texas to make the move. But doing so sets Cassie off on a journey that forces her to confront all that she's been hiding, and ultimately heals her heart and her relationship with her mother.

I have a love/hate relationship with this book. On the one hand, the plot line itself is sweet and uplifting, and has a lot of potential. Cassie has closed herself off to love and relationships for so long, and it was heartwarming to see her grow and open up to all the possibilities of the world. Almost all the side characters are lovable and funny, and they provide so much kindness and support for Cassie. And the message of hope and forgiveness in this story is a worthy one.

However, the book way overdid it on the sweetness, to the point where the saccharine syrupyness of some of the scenes, including the climax and the subsequent conclusion, felt unreal. Every bad thing just magical resolved itself. If someone behaved badly towards you, well all you have to do is save them from themselves and forgive them, and then it's all good. It smooths over so many complex issues, such as sexual assault and drug abuse, as if such traumatizing experiences could ever be just one absolution away from complete resolution.

The ending also felt preachy and fake. Not only does everyone's issues resolve in the best way possible, but those in the wrong also learn their lessons and then go on to become the poster child do-gooder for every sin they ever committed. And this is hammered home to the reader many, many times. I read a lot of chick lit and romance, and enjoy them very much for their warmth and optimistic endings. So I'm a little baffled by the way this book made me feel. It's as if I've been given the hard sell, leaving behind this unsatisfied hollowness in its wake.

I also had problems with the main character, Cassie. A lot of the conflict in this book comes from the fact that she is still hung up on the fact that her parents divorced when she was 16. I would understand if she were a child, thinking that her parents' world revolved around her. But surely she's figured out by the time she's an adult that parents sometimes have to make difficult and complicated decisions, such as going their separate ways. It's really hard to read about Cassie acting like an entitled brat, being mean to and ignoring her mother for years because of this perceived slight.

I've also never come across a character who is so rigid and uptight. She rejects fun, dating, love, talking, hanging out with people, making friends, or pretty much anything that isn't her job or being mad at her parents. My god... how can she stand herself and her attitude? I almost couldn't stand it just reading it for the duration of the book.

In the end, this book garnered a lot of mixed emotions for me. As I was reading it, I'd find moments where I would chuckle to myself or my eyes would mist over. But there were also plenty of times when I wanted to hurl my book across the room at the sheer ludicracy of what was going on. I very much took to the story line of growth and redemption in the face of adversity. But this book was so insistently sweet in its resolution of all conflicts and its glossing over of every complex issue that it often felt like I was reading the script of a Hallmark movie on steroids, written by a car salesman.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

When the weather turns cold and the days dark, is there anything more satisfying than cozying up with a dark crime thriller? I think not.

A serial killer is loose on the streets of Copenhagen. In addition to the brutally mutilated victims, the killer also leaves behind his calling card, a little figurine made of chestnuts and matchsticks. Even more baffling, a clue from each scene seems to point to another unrelated and already solved crime. The police must stop the killer before he claims any more victims. But how do you stop someone that's always one step ahead?

This story contains all the hallmarks of a terrific Scandinavian noir. The crimes are gruesome, the detectives are all flawed, and the setting is dark and gloomy. It could not be more quintessential of the genre.

Diving in, I did find the beginning a little bit slow. A good number of characters are introduced initially, and I had some trouble remembering them all. But once I got over that hump and everything started to come together, I couldn't put it down. It's one of those substantial stories you can just sink your teeth into and not surface for hours.

If there's one small annoyance, it's that most of the detectives in here are awfully whinny about having to do their jobs. Any time facts had to be rechecked or previously unsolved items had to be revisited, there would inevitably be a chorus of whys and whatever for's. And since that didn't add anything to the story, I'm not sure why it was even included (unless it's a part of the heretofore mentioned hallmarks of a Scandinavian noir I'm not aware of).

Still, minor quibbles aside, I found this to be thoroughly entertaining. I had great fun following along with the twists and turns, and the big reveal was worth the buildup. Even though this story is on the longer side, I found it riveting once I got into it. It was the perfect book to get lost in on a dreary day, wrapped up in a cozy blanket with a hot cup of tea.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

The Velvet Rope Economy shows how the ultra-wealthy can pay their way past all the inconveniences in their lives and turn every experience into a luxury. This includes not having to wait in line at amusement parks, getting box seats at sports games that allow for face time with athletes, retaining doctors on-call, donating so much money to an Ivy League school that their children are admitted, and so much more. On the surface, this book seems like a worthwhile read, but it actually left me frustrated and annoyed, and I'm going to try to articulate why.

To begin with, this book conflates two completely different things into one. Citizens of a first world country are entitled to certain things, such as access to quality health care and opportunities to have an affordable education that will lead to middle-class earnings. However, people are not entitled to skip lines, nor have access to famous athletes so they can get their ball signed, nor partake in luxurious air travel or cruises. Yet this book spends the majority of the time complaining about the latter, and only a portion of it talking about the real issues of the former.

In terms of the latter, the author just hasn't convinced me with his argument. He's essentially saying that it's bad that people can pay more to have a better experience than those who pay less, and that worsens the divide between the classes. For example, you pay more to sit in first class on an airplane, which comes with more leg room, lounge access, earlier boarding, etc. Then the people who have economy seats look with envy at those in first class, which causes the divide between the classes to expand. I don't know... that seems like many jumps to get to that conclusion. But even if true, I'm not sure how to process that.

There is an implied argument here that I'm not sure I agree with, which is that it's wrong for someone to pay more to get more. But that's the basis of any economy. If I pay for a business class ticket, of course I expect to get more service and value than if I pay for an economy class ticket. Otherwise, customers have no incentive to pay more, which then means the airlines would have no incentive to offer more. And if that was the case, the result isn't that every customer would receive first class treatment; rather, it's that the airlines would give everyone the economy treatment.

But more odious than that, the book also implies that when people pay more for something, it's because they are "rich" or otherwise privileged, and they don't deserve to be so. There is a tone of both envy and resentment that permeates this section, and it rubs me the wrong way.

I think a better question is this: is the tiered system of goods what's worsening the class divide; or is it that in our inter-connected world, where everyone can peer into everyone else's lives, envy becomes more of an issue? Because in one case, the blame is on the "rich." In the other case, the blame is on those who feels envious of others for having what they lack. But realistically, any one person can never have it all. We each have limited resources and must use those up as we see fit. For example, people with kids might see value in spending their money to fast-track the lines at an amusement park, while older and less mobile people might see value in maid service or having a nurse on call.

Unless somehow we do away with human nature or we get rid of internet and TV so that people can't see what the Joneses are up to, envy and jealousy are just part of the norm. And everyone will just have to live with the fact that others will have things which they themselves do not have, because they chose to spend their resources on other things.

Now we finally get to the part of the book where it addresses the real issues, such as the lack of good health care and quality education for the poor. But even here, the book was a disappointment. It treats each issue superficially and doesn't get to the root of the problems. For example, people with limited means generally have bad or no health insurance because it is tied to their (lack of) employment. Now, people with good private insurance from their employers are free to leave struggling hospitals for better care elsewhere. But the book misses the discussion on why this is even an issue to begin with. It's because we live in a country where a person's health insurance is based on whatever their employer wants to offer or not, versus in every other industrialized country where health insurance is uniformly provided by the government. And the book does not address this crucial point at all.

Another example of a miss is around education. The book talks about how money for field trips, teacher's aids, sports/music classes, etc. often comes from parent-led fundraisers. So in a struggling school district, parents often do not have the means to raise that kind of money. But the solution proposed in the book is that the money raised by wealthier districts should partially be given to poorer districts. That might work in an idealized world, but in this actual world, I'd bet that would be a hard sell. And what's not addressed? The reason we are even in this predicament is because recent policy changes have diverted money out of education, which then force public officials to go begging to tax payers every time they need more money to cover the shortfall. And unsurprisingly, people hardly ever want to pay more taxes on an item-by-item basis.

The book also spends a large amount of time bashing on parents who set their children up for admission into Ivy League schools by making donations, and offering their kids college-prep, tutoring, and extracurriculars. Sure, that's rather unfair, but harping on it misses other relevant points. For example, Ivy League schools are on a level of competitiveness that is unreal. They accept like 3% of the students who apply, even though every applicant probably has the academic rigor to succeed. So the schools are forced to somehow differentiate between this 4.0 GPA student they accept from these thirty other 4.0 GPA students they reject, and the only way to do so is through standards that have little to do with academic success, such as how well-spoken they are, what community service contributions they've made, and their extracurriculars. But Ivy League schools are private, and can accept/reject using whatever standards they want. The point isn't to force them to accept everybody; that would be impossible and counterproductive. It's to realize that public schools are where funding should go if we want quality education to be accessible to all.

But the book also misses the most important point of all when it comes to college education, which is that the school someone gets into is not nearly as important as what major they choose to study. In this day and age, certain majors, such as math, science, and engineering, ensure job opportunities, while others make it almost impossible to find jobs, even for an Ivy League graduate.

There is so much potential that this book could have explored, yet it focuses so much energy implying that the rich is out to game the system by paying thousands for first class tickets or the ability to cute in line at amusement parks. In the flying example, it completely glosses over the fact that air travel is now cheap enough for the masses. And to achieve this, airlines essentially had to cut every amenity and pack in as many people as possible. Sure, it's uncomfortable, but compared to the alternative of the past when flying was dignified but out of reach for everyone except the wealthiest, that isn't something I would want to change back.

I could go on and rebut almost every topic covered in this book, but taking mercy on the kind souls who actually read my reviews, I must stop. This book left me irritated and dissatisfied. It spent so much time both mooning over and whining about pointless aspirational crap, and missed a real opportunity to address the policy shortfalls in essential services that every citizen should be entitled to. By lumping the two completely disparate issues together, the book makes almost no coherent argument.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

I've really come to enjoy Shari Lapena's writing style, and for me, this is her best story yet.

Someone We Know takes place in a tranquil suburb of New York. Robert Pierce reports that his beautiful young wife Amanda is missing. Did she leave on her own or has something sinister happened to her? The police arrive in the neighborhood, and proceed to unearth the residents' every secret. And there are so many, because everyone has something to hide.

Lapena has the most interesting style. It's sparse and action-driven, so it feels like something is happening with every sentence. There are no unnecessary descriptions, no overwrought emotion, no dilly-dallying or indulgence. Every page is stripped to only the most essential, so the pacing feels taut and brisk. It makes for a riveting read, leaving me to turn the pages as fast as I could.

The mystery itself plays out like a whodunit, with plenty of suspects among a small pool of characters, and red herrings galore. Each character has secrets they want to keep hidden, and as those are revealed one by one, the twists and turns make for a truly entertaining read.

I actually sniffed out where this was going earlier on, but there were still plenty of twists I didn't see coming that kept me guessing till the very end. My only small gripe is that not everything was explained; there was a small point left purposefully unclear and I had been looking forward to its explanation.

This is one of the most fun contemporary mysteries I've come across. Usually I find this genre to be a complete disappointment, with all the drama coming from characters boozing and acting crazy and confused. Thank goodness this book doesn't employ such cheap tricks. It reads like a breath of fresh air. Shari Lapena has been getting better with each of her books, and I can't wait to read more from her.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Well Met is the quintessential modern rom-com. Emily, after moving to a small town to help out her sister and niece, is roped into participating in the town's Renaissance fair as a tavern wench. There she meets a swaggering, flirty pirate, Simon, with whom she immediately feels the sizzle of attraction. The problem is that the pirate happens to be played by an uptight English teacher who runs the fair on a tight leash while disapproving of Emily's carefree attitude. So what's a girl with this kind of hot/cold interaction supposed to think?

This is a slow romance, and it took a while to get going. It wasn't until about 100 pages in that the reader gets the first whiff of Emily and Simon's attraction to each other. But once there, the story gets to the good part, with lots of fun flirtations amid the backdrop of a Renaissance fair. Then, when they finally act on their feelings for each other and all seems set, another 100 pages of the book remained. Those last pages dragged on a bit with mostly uninteresting drama. In particular, Emily was extremely needy, and had to be reassured almost on a daily basis that Simon still liked her, which got a little tiring.

Overall, this rom-com fell in the middle of the pack for me. It's cute and fluffy, with the best part being the tavern wench/flirty pirate banter. It's a feel-good story, enjoyable though never quite rising to the level of memorable for me.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Even though I'm all grown up, I feel like I'm always looking for that magical fairy tale, the one that speaks to the kid in me while still appealing to the adult I am. And I found just that in Gods of Jade and Shadow.

Casiopea and her mother have been living with relatives ever since her father unexpectedly passed away. Because the two of them don't have money of their own, they are treated like servants, ordered to do menial tasks for the family. One day, Casiopea accidentally opens a chest full of bones, and what follows is the adventure she has always dreamed of.

Casiopea is my kind of heroine. Life dealt her an unfair hand, but she works hard and stays true to herself. Though her family treats her badly, she doesn't let that turn her bitter. She keeps dreaming of a better life. And when the opportunity to go on a grand adventure presents itself in the form of a request from the God of Death, she seizes it without hesitation. Then throughout the journey, she remains brave and smart and kind, even when great sacrifices are demanded of her. Honestly, I couldn't ask for a better main character.

Then there is Hun-Kamé, the God of Death. He's the perfect companion for Casiopea. He starts out all rigid and uptight, but as he spends more time around Casiopea and starts to unbend, he becomes likable and interesting. It was joyful to follow along as their sweet but improbable relationship unfurls and takes them both by surprise. The kindness and trust that they show each other is moving and magical, especially given how fragile and fleeting that first love is.

I also really enjoyed all the Mexican and Mayan folklore and mythology in here. It's all brand new to me, and it was fascinating to read this interpretation of the God of Death.

The story kept me in its thralls from the very first page. I wanted to stay curled up and reading, firmly entrenched in its magical universe. It's always a thrill when a book hits all the right notes: terrific cheer-worthy characters, a grand quest, a heart-rending love that could never be, and a showdown between good and evil. I can't believe it's taken me so long to get to this book, but I'm glad I finally did.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars