In theory, I love Greek mythology. Who isn't drawn towards stories of bravery and tragedy, all wrapped up in strong characters and epic battles? But in reality, I'm starting to flag a bit with the recent ones I've read, and I'm trying to put my finger on exactly why.

Going in, I didn't know anything about Atalanta and was surprised to learn that she was a part of the Argonauts on their quest for the Golden Fleece. It's always interesting to experience a well-known tale through the eyes of a different character, and Atalanta offers an undoubtedly compelling perspective, especially being the only female in the group.

But the quest for the Golden Fleece is just a part of Atalanta, though arguably its most exciting part. It's prepended by her being left in the forest as a baby and growing up into the huntress that she is, and postpended by what feels like a long wrap-up in which she figures out what to do with her life. And these two bookends just didn't quite capture my attention the same way, especially the former.

To be honest, even the quest for the Golden Fleece somehow wasn't as epic as I thought it would be. At one point in the story, Atalanta even mentions that it feels like she was just a spectator on the sidelines, watching Madea help Jason take the Golden Fleece by witchcraft rather than through a fair fight.

And maybe herein lies the problem. By and large, the women of Greek mythology have always felt a bit like supporting characters, there to bolster the men's stories. So to take one woman, especially when it's a lesser-known one without a lot of content, and make a whole book's worth out of her may be stretching it. No matter how great of a writer Jennifer Saint is, she is still at the mercy of the source material and can only embellish so much.

Don't get me wrong, I found Atalanta's story to be interesting. But it was so mild compared to the grand vision I had in my head of what a heroine in Greek mythology should be. I wanted more for Atalanta, more adventures and more epicness. But as it stands, her story probably would've worked better for me as a novella or even as a series of vignettes rather than as a full-length book.

Still, I'm a sucker for feminist retellings, and since Jennifer Saint has positioned her books as exactly that for the unsung heroines of Greek mythology, I'll continue to read whatever she writes, even if I end up wanting more than what I'm given.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

It makes me sad to say this, but Women of Good Fortune falls squarely into the camp of having a fascinating premise but a lackluster execution.

From the description, I was all aflutter. You need only to hint at things like a high-society Asian wedding and a brilliant heist masterminded by a group of smart and resourceful women, and I'm starting to dream of Ocean's Eleven meets Crazy Rich Asians. Add to that the setting of Shanghai, the city of my birth and early years, and how could I not love this?

And yet, I did not. Pretty much from the start, I felt a disconnect from the story that never really went away.

The heist itself is enjoyable enough in that frothy and hammed up sort of way, as long as you don't take it too seriously. Though it was a bit convoluted, I had fun following along as they tried to figure out how to steal all the red envelopes full of cash from right under the noses of the wedding guests.

But the problem here is the characters. The three main women are extremely unlikable, so much so that it hobbled the story for me. They constantly complain about not having enough money and how they hate the men in their lives, but I don't really understand their issues. They have enough money to live comfortably, and the men in their lives genuinely care about them and treat them with respect, and some are even billionaires. How terrible for them.

The women could just leave if they really can't stand it. Yet they stay and persist, in the way that is only explainable in Chinese—吃苦 (to eat bitterness), just so they can maximize their suffering, which in turn makes them feel entitled to the money they are stealing from the rich people. I tried, you guys, but it's really hard to relate to such self-inflicted suffering and entitlement.

And the side characters aren't any better, with most of the parents and in-laws portrayed as greedy and selfish. Other than the three male love interests, the rest of the cast is so awful, I cringed hard at their harsh portrayal.

I understand what this book is trying to do. We are meant to sympathize with the women because they come from difficult childhoods and circumstances. Could upbringing and poverty and parental abuse make you unable to stand up and advocate for yourself, make you seem cold and greedy in the eyes of someone who grew up with privilege, and cause you to bend the moral code to ensure your survival? Yes, absolutely. But the problem is that this book doesn't show that subtlety. And without it, we're just following a bunch of greedy and shallow people.

Clearly, this story is meant to be a light satire that both entertains and gently pokes fun at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. But in order for satire to work, there needs to be something in the characters you can relate to. This satire strips away all the humanity until there is nothing left but the caricatures. And I just couldn't relate to that at all.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

I get it now. After reading this book, I finally understand the appeal of the unreliable narrator.

Up till now, for more than a decade, I did not understand. In fact, I've been so befuddled by it all, I've had to engage in deceit in order not to broadcast my lack of understanding. Because you see, during all this time, whenever anyone professed their love for domestic thrillers and the ubiquitous unreliable narrator, I've smiled and nodded along as if I also love those things. But in actuality, I had no idea what they were going on about.

The unreliable narrators I've come across thus far had me under the mistaken impression that they must be of a very specific mold—always female, imbibing to the point of incoherence, acting unfathomably loony and paranoid, and going on and on about how no one believes them. In other words, a most unpleasant character there to frustrate the heck out of the reader and cause maximum eye-rolling and hair-tearing. You can see how I did not understand why anyone would love that.

So to read Gone Girl feels like both a Eureka moment and a recognition—oh there you are, you compelling unreliable narrator, I've finally found you!

What made this story work for me when so many others have failed? Well, the unreliable narrators here are smart, cunning, and sober, in other words the complete opposite of what I'm used to. No dumb, drunk, paranoid lush here, thank you very much.

But it's more than that. The way the story unfolds is pretty brilliant too. You think you know what's going on, then the rug is pulled out from under you and everything you thought you knew changes. Both of the two main characters are unlikable but undeniably fascinating, and you want to keep turning the pages to see what they'd do next.

And the writing is so sharp and precise, there to match perfectly to each situation and every version of the characters. There are so many insightful observations thrown in, about our culture and its ups and downs, about people and their hopes and dreams, and most of all, about marriage. At its heart, what made this story so disturbing is that there is a lot of truth written into this dark tale beneath all the exaggerations.

Was this the perfect book? No, at least not for me. I did find the beginning rather slow and (what turned out to be justifiably) pretentious, the characters and the plot a tad over the top, and the ending somewhat lackluster after all that buildup. But honestly, that's just because domestic thrillers are never going to be my favorite thing.

Still, it was a lot of fun to read the book that kicked off the craze. With how popular this book is and how much it influenced all that came after, it just wasn't possible to go into this completely blind. I went in already knowing about unreliable narrators and also having an inkling of what to expect. (Many years ago, I made the regrettable decision to read the synopsis of the movie in a moment of weakness.) And yet, even with all that, this still managed to surprise and entertain me.

And most importantly, now I finally understand what everyone's talking about.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Am I getting too old and cynical for romances? Say it ain't so!

I have trouble passing up books with the word "bodyguard" in its description (cue "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston). In fact, I picked up the first book of this series solely because I wanted to read this one. The princess and the bodyguard is a pairing as old as time, not to mention absolutely swoon-worthy, and before I cracked open the first page, I was filled to the brim with anticipatory glee for all the fun I was about to have.

And for the most part, I enjoyed the story itself. It was a bit long-winded, but compared to instalove, I'll take a slow burn any day. While this didn't break any new ground and is pretty much what you'd expect from the trope, it was still fun. Rhys the Bodyguard is all like I take security very seriously ma'am, and Bridget the Princess is all like you can't tell me what to do. I'm totally on board with that.

And yet. Yet, yet, yet. I feel like something was missing. Was it better chemistry, more snarky banter? I'm not sure. All I know is what I got felt like a paler version of what it could've been. Or maybe the problem is me and I built this up so much in my head, nothing could possibly meet it.

One thing I do know for sure is that Ana Huang's male characters are a bit too much for me. They're so sexed up and possessive, it's hard to take them seriously. They way they talk and act, you'd think they came straight from the chest-thumping Stone Age. No other man can even look at their women, lest glares and threats erupt from their mouths. They're constantly like, Who do you belong to? Me! And that's more or less verbatim.

And the sex scenes. Ugh, I feel like such an old fuddy duddy for saying this, but they were so frequent and unrealistic in that porny way, I was cringing with embarrassment for the characters. I enjoyed the first third of the book so much more simply because there was no sex in it. But the last two-thirds felt like every other scene was dramatic sex, and I was so over it.

It's hard to really enjoy a story if I'm cringing my way through so much of it, and that's what happened here. Obviously, romances are personal, and this is clearly a case where my tastes just don't quite line up with the author's. And there's nothing wrong with that. Plenty of readers love this series; I just wish I were one of them.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Wow, this was so over the top. Usually I reserve my suspension of disbelief skill for thrillers, but it sure came in handy here.

Sometimes I look at my long TBR, and nothing strikes my fancy. I just want to take a break from it all. I want something light and fun, a guilty pleasure if you will. And this totally fit the bill. Ana Huang has been on my list of authors to try, and this seemed like the right book to start, both being her most popular and having the irresistible grumpy/sunshine trope.

Of all the romance tropes out there, grumpy/sunshine is probably my all-time fav. What's not to like about a happy, bubbly gal poking fun at and slowly thawing the heart of an uptight, don't-know-how-to-smile guy who takes everything too seriously? So I was all set to enjoy the heck out of this from beginning to end, the way you would any guilty pleasure.

And I loved the beginning. There was so much funny banter, I had a smile permanently affixed to my face. Facial pain is generally bad, but when it comes from smiling too much? Sign me up any day.

But then as the story went on, it became too much. Ava is the most sunshine of all sunshine girls (Alex's nickname for her is even "Sunshine"), while Alex is so ruthless he threatens ruin and death upon anyone who gets in his way, including those who have the gall to talk to his girl. Okaaay. It's one thing to be dark and broody, but to be so jealous as to actually be murderous? Come on! I love grumpy as much as the next reader, but that's taking it a step too far.

And the villains in here are such caricatures of villains, with their face all "twisted" into a "hideous mask", complete with eyes that "gleamed with delighted malice" and mouth spreading into a "mocking smile". And that's right after you confront them, when they could just deny everything and no one would be the wiser.

Still, to the book's credit, I chomped it up in a jiffy, so I must've been entertained through all the shenanigans even if they were a bit much. And I feel strangely compelled to continue with the series, the ultimate sign of a guilty pleasure working its magic. So there you have it, my first Ana Huang.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars