"Are you that cruel of a son, to stand there and watch your helpless parents wither away when all you have to do is marry a billionaire?"

Ahh. While The Notorious B.I.G. may have popularized the phrase "Mo Money Mo Problems," Kevin Kwan has turned it into the anthem of his stories.

I do have to say, there's no feeling quite like cracking open one of Kwan's book. You know you're in for a scathing good time, one that will transport you to wealthy and dazzling locales full of rich people and their rich people problems (wink wink). In fact, I try to save his books for when I'm jet-setting around the world (yeah right), spending the benjis like nobody's business (only in my dreams).

Okay, in all seriousness, while this may seem like a superficial romp at first glance, it's actually so much more. It's a social satire that strikes at the heart of our materialistic society and also Asian cultures and families. At times, it's so spot-on with its searing critiques, I marvel at their execution all wrapped up in this riveting tale.

In order for a satire to succeed, it must never lose sight of the characters' humanity. Otherwise, all we have is a bunch of caricatures without any soul. And this book gets it right. Even though the Countess of Greshamsbury, our "villain" of the story, perfectly embodies the worst of a social-climbing, guilt-tripping, shrilly opportunistic mother, she is also strangely sympathetic. I understood her need to secure a good future for her children, however misguided her actions may be.

But it isn't just one or two characters that stands out; it's all of them. Every main and supporting character in here is interesting and likable, and together, they imbue the scenes with their allure and charm. It adds an undeniable sparkle to the story, making each and every page a joy to read.

As I was going through this book, I kept being impressed by all the details in here. I imagine Kevin Kwan must have done extensive research into art, fashion, and architecture in order to infuse the story with so much authenticity. It adds yet another layer of fun to the reading experience to be able to look up many of the people and things referenced in here.

Recently I've been shying away from light and fun reads. It's not that I don't love them. In fact, escapist reads are my raison d'être for reading in the first place. But it feels like so many of the books I've picked up lately confuse light with boring, as if low stakes is somehow the same as no stakes. So it's refreshing to find a book that gets the balance right.

Kevin Kwan truly has an inimitable style. His stories are fun and frothy, but never frivolous. His characters are memorable. And his portrayals are so sharp and astute, they often leave me laughing and wincing in equal measure.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Honestly, you guys, I read this so you don't have to.

What the heck happened here? Was the author high when he wrote this? Do I also need to be high to understand it? Because the entire time I was reading this, I kept waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes and tell me that it's a joke, that they're pulling my leg, because this was such a hot mess I'm having trouble believing it's for real.

Let's start with my biggest issue, which was the writing style. There was something really strange and off-putting about it. It felt impenetrable on purpose, there to maximumly confuse and confound the reader. And I'll tell you what, it succeeded.

The dialogue in particular was incredibly affected and obtuse, almost to the point of incomprehensibility. Often, one participant would make a "witty" remark about something random, then the other participant would parry back with something equally "witty" and baffling, and we'd go back and forth. Obviously no real people talk like this, so it makes the characters all seem ridiculous and full of themselves.

But it wasn't just the dialogue. Almost every description and scene felt overly theatrical and bombastic, to the point of pretentiousness. At times, we even got stage directions and setting of the scenes, as if we were in some sort of dramatic play instead of prose. To say I was puzzled is an understatement. Why would the author choose to write in this way?

The pace was excruciatingly slow. Almost nothing happens for a long time. You could conceivably skip the first 100 or even 200 pages without having missed anything because nothing really happens until the last few chapters. And this book has a lot of pages (400) and chapters (100), so you're in it for a long time.

The mystery itself has potential, but it's so buried under how the story is written that it's hard to take it for what it is. By the time we get to the reveal, I feel like someone had been messing with me for so long, I couldn't muster up enough excitement to care about what was happening.

The whole time reading this, my primary feeling was one of bewilderment. Bewilderment at the bizarre writing style, bewilderment at the long length, and bewilderment at the lack of editing and polishing that somehow sent this out the door.

Perhaps the author had an idea, went to write it, and proceeded to write himself into a corner he could not back out of. While I wasn't a fan of A.J. Finn's first book (unreliable narrators aren't my usual jam), I could still see its appeal to others. But not so much with this one. My suggestion is, if you're a fan of the author's first book, it's probably best to pretend this one doesn't exist and just wait for his next one.

Readaroo Rating: 1 star

How do you rate a book that doesn't quite deliver on its promise, and yet is still a riveting read?

Told through the perspectives of three generations of a family, Real Americans follows Lily as she finds the love of her life, Nick through his high school and college days as he gains independence, and Mei in her old age as she recounts what really happened all those years ago.

Of the three accounts, I feel like Lily's and Nick's boil down to coming-of-age stories, no matter how you try couch it in fancier, more racially-interesting terms. And I think that's where my mismatched expectations resulted in some disappointment. I was expecting more of a deep dive into what it means to grow up Chinese-American, but this only just scratches the surface.

The book tries to tackle so many worthwhile subjects—what it means to belong, a mother's love and expectations for her child, immigration and assimilation, having wealth and privilege, affirmative action, racism. You name it, it feels like it's in this book. If you're thinking to yourself, wow that's a lot, yes it is. And maybe that's the problem.

With so many topics, how do you achieve a meaningful look into any one of them? Well, I'm not sure you can. You can only superficially acknowledge them for a few pages, or even just a paragraph here and there, and that's about it. Every time I came across an interesting observation, I'd get excited, only to have the book immediately abandon it and move onto the next thing.

Throughout the whole story, there is this feeling that the good part is coming and I'm imminently about to stumble upon it. And this feeling propelled me through the book. I kept turning the pages, waiting with anticipation at what were sure to be astonishing revelations. But they never really materialized to my satisfaction.

I did find Mei's portion to be the most interesting and compelling. Hers was more than just a coming-of-age tale. She talks about what it's like to grow up during the Cultural Revolution, at a time of famine, when neighbor turned on neighbor, and every sort of intellectual aspiration was viewed as a punishable offense. I can't help but be drawn towards this part of Chinese history. It was the defining event of my parents' youth, yet they hardly ever talk about it.

The other interesting part of Mei's tale is the focus on the science that is central to this book, especially the ethics of gene editing and selection. But here again, it feels like the story got just close enough to tantalize, then immediately backed off, as if afraid to take anything other than a superficial stance on a potentially controversial topic.

I did want to mention the writing style. It came across as rather choppy at first, with lots of random observations and intense bursts of information, all the while keeping the reader at arm's length emotionally. It was a bit jarring initially, but then I hardly noticed anymore after a few chapters. So either I acclimated to it or the writing smoothed out. Either way, if you're having trouble at the start, don't let it prevent you from going a little further.

The entire time reading this book, I could feel the potential. There was this electric buzz that at any moment, this was going to become an amazing read. And it almost got there, but then somehow it didn't. Underneath this riveting story, there is a missed opportunity to really say something new and insightful about a host of worthwhile topics. Instead, this book skirts around them, giving brief nods to all but never more than that.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

This was a pick for my Book of the Month box. Get your first book for $5 here.

Can a book survive on nothing but banter? Well, Funny Story sure tries.

Okay, all you rabid Emily Henry fans. Before you chuck your rotten eggs at me, please let me explain.

If ever there was an Emily Henry book that I should connect with, it's this one. Daphne is a librarian (my dream job) and she's in a pretend relationship with her roommate, Miles, in order to get back at her ex-fiancé (an intriguing premise). And yet, something was missing. I kept waiting for the story to grab me, and it never really did.

I hate to say it, but the crux of the problem is that the whole thing was rather forgettable. I only just finished the book, and already I hardly remember anything about it. The characters, the interactions, even the conflicts, while all feelgood on the surface, were in fact fairly bland underneath.

I enjoy a low-stakes beach read as much as the next gal, but there is a difference between low stakes and no stakes, and this was too much in the latter. At no point was there anything really on the line. The story just shambled along, with lots of banter and some minor conflicts here and there, until the requisite 300-some pages were met, and then it was called a book.

Speaking of the conflicts, I totally didn't understand Daphne and Miles' issues, or even Daphne and Ashleigh's. Do people really get so upset and potentially break up relationships and friendships over such small issues? And each one, blown up to be so important, can only be resolved after much back and forth, with pages upon pages of dialogue of each person's feelings and the associated parental trauma that was at the root of all their misgivings. It was a bit much.

Don't get me wrong, I did have fun. There were entertaining moments, and the banter was truly top notch. And it wasn't just for the main couple during romantic moments. No, the banter was interspersed everywhere and among everyone, so we got plenty of chuckle-worthy moments.

But you can't just sustain a story on banter alone, no matter how delightful it is. When the characters feel as lackluster as Daphne and Miles and their conflicts equally bland and forced, it was hard to care either way if they ended up together, which is always a bad sign in a romance.

I feel like I'm the only person out there who doesn't get heart-eyes at the merest mention of an Emily Henry book. My experiences so far have been largely underwhelming, or maybe I just haven't read the right books by her. Either way, I'll add this to the pile of Emily Henry books I've pretty much forgotten the moment I finished.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Exquisite and mesmerizing, The Fox Wife kept me enchanted from the very first moment to the very last.

Told through the alternating perspectives of Bao, an aging investigator with a penchant for sniffing out the truth, and Snow, a mysterious lady on a quest to avenge the death of her child, this story sits at the irresistible intersection of historical fiction, mystery, and folklore.

Secrets and questions abound in here. Who are these characters? What do they want? And how do their paths cross through so many years and miles of tribulations? Add to that a main character who is not quite human, as well as the singular backdrop of the wintery world of Manchuria during the last years of the Qing dynasty, and the scene is set for a tale unlike any I've come across before.

I'm always drawn towards folklore, and the hallmark of a good one is the seamless blending of the real and the fantasy. You don't want to get mired in the weeds of the how's and why's of this slightly altered world, but you also don't want to just be dropped in the middle of what feels like an artificial construct. And this story achieves that balance flawlessly.

With so much of the story riding on its animal characters, there's the fear that it can come across contrived or, even worse, silly. But the foxes in here feel so real, as if these creatures really do live in our world, coexisting among us in disguise and leaving havoc but also wonder in their wake. In fact, the portions of the story told from Snow's perspective were the most evocative, and I found her to be vivid and compelling.

Snow's quest to avenge her dead child struck something in me. The quiet and reflective prose that Yangsze Choo so deftly wields adds this soft dignity to Snow's plight, and the end result is so emotionally resonant, I felt it deep within my heart. Her grief and anger were so raw and sharp, yet her continued strength in the face of such tragedy makes her the sort of strong female character I love and cheer for.

One of the most surprising and delightful additions in here were all the little nuggets of fox wisdom. Of course if the world were seen through the eyes of an animal, their life experiences and their way of thinking would be different from ours, resulting in unique insights. And these little morsels were dispensed at the most pertinent times, leaving me nodding and chuckling along at their undeniable wisdom and humor.

When I finish a book, there are two distinct feelings I can have. Either I'm happy to be done and excited to move on to something else, or I feel a sense of melancholy that I've reached the end of a magical journey and there's no more. And this book falls squarely in the latter. I could've easily gobbled up another 400 pages of this and it still wouldn't have been enough.

What an epic and memorable tale Yangsze Choo has crafted. The story itself often speaks of foxes beguiling humans into falling in love with them, yet I can't help but feel as if it were the story that has cast a spell on me, and I were the one who was beguiled all along.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

"What's the most irritating question that a writer can be asked? . . . it's Where do you get your ideas?"

You guys, I don't know what I thought I was getting with A Ladder to the Sky, but I certainly wasn't expecting to be completely gobsmacked.

Maurice Swift has always known he wants to be a writer. And not just any old writer that no one has heard of. No, he wants to be famous and celebrated in the literary world. The only problem? He may be a little short in the talent department. But that won't deter a man as cunning and ambitious as Maurice, especially when he's willing to do anything to achieve success.

First of all, I wouldn't say this is a premise that grabbed me right off the bat. Honestly, it sounds like a cross between a dark tale of embarrassment and possibly a bad psychological thriller, both of which I avoid like the plague. But no, thankfully, it's nothing like that at all.

Instead, it's a tale so masterful, I'm left in awe. The writing, the plot, the characters—it was all so razor-sharp, everything just leapt off the pages.

At the center of this story is the character of Maurice. He's self-centered and manipulative, with zero regard for others, but the way he's portrayed not only makes him feel authentic, but also compelling and oddly sympathetic. I'm intrigued, and I want to know more. He's the perfect antihero, immoral and deceitful, and I just can't look away as destruction and ruin follow along his wake. And pretty soon, I'm neglecting sleep and the real world, wanting to read just one more page.

But it's not just the characters. The plot takes one surprising turn after another, gluing me to the edges of my seat. Honestly, it's got more twists and turns than a thriller. And the whole time, the writing is just so precise and sharp in its delivery, it draws you in with each and every sentence.

If all that sounds a bit too serious, I assure you it's not. The story has a vein of dark humor running throughout, with its slightly irreverent take on the literary world and the publishing industry, and it even manages to poke gentle fun at authors too. It made for a jolly good time.

Recently, I did a reread to see if I still love it as much as I did, even now that I know how the story unfolds. And my answer is a resounding yes! If anything, the second time around was even better, and I gobbled it up all over again.

I feel like I can just gush about this story all day long, but I'll stop here. I won't say any more for fear of spoiling this amazing book. You should go and read it if you haven't yet. And I need to go and check out more of John Boyne's works.

Readaroo Rating: 5 stars!

This was a pick for my Book of the Month box. Get your first book for $5 here.