Truly one of those books that breaks ground, Illuminae is a story told in a format that is as immersive as it is memorable.

First, to set expectations correctly, you have to understand that I love all things space. Space battles, space tech, space rescues—you name it, I am so there. The more dramatic, the better. And on top of that, if you sprinkle in some mysteries (medical or otherwise) and an AI gone rogue, well, let's just say I'm pretty much putty in your hands. In fact, since we're being honest, I'll confess that Power Rangers was my favorite show growing up. So before I even started on this, it was already a foregone conclusion that I was going to love it.

Gosh, how to describe what a crazy, joy-filled ride this turned out to be? I love high-octane, plot-driven stories, and that's exactly what this is. The action starts right off the bat and doesn't let up. But it isn't action for action's sake. Rather, each part is necessary and sets the scene for the next, building up until we get to the explosive and heart-stopping finale.

A large part of why this story is so thrilling is its format. It's composed like a dossier, filled entirely with transcripts of interviews, memos, video and audio material, and illustrations. It reminds me a lot of the experience of watching a movie, though on paper. It's tremendously creative, and I can't help but marvel at the ingenious design, which pulled me into the story and kept me rivetted.

This is a YA book, so do set your expectations accordingly. There is a romance in here that at times induces quite a bit of eye-rolling, and the dialogue can be both snarky (yay) and cringey (nay) in the way of teenagers. But hey, at least it feels authentic to the age of the main characters. Overall though, it wasn't too bad and I was able to look past it to the awesome space-story within, and that's saying something coming from an old fogey like me.

One thing to note is that this book came out in 2015, and while it has aged well for the most part, there is one exception. A member of the supporting cast has certain characterizations that left me feeling a bit icky, and I imagine, given the chance to do so again, the authors probably wouldn't have written him in this way. While it's just a few words here and there, it is rather unfortunate, so just be aware if you're going into it now that it may be a bit offensive to today's sentiments.

As a whole, I have to say this book left me pretty speechless. The incredibly innovative format of the story made for a truly special and immersive reading experience, one unlike any I've come across before.

If you're a space aficionado like me, I can't recommend this enough. Just be sure to pick up the physical book instead of the e- or audio versions for maximum enjoyment.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

I hate to say it, but Tom Lake feels like a lot of nostalgic vibes and not much else.

When I first dove in, I thought for sure this story would grab me. We're introduced to Lara right as she comes upon that prescient moment when she realizes she'd make a better Emily than all of the girls auditioning, and so begins her brief foray into the world of acting. It's a captivating vignette and a scintillating way to kick off the story.

But alas, it's not meant to be. For slowly but surely, as we intercut between scenes, it dawns on me that this is the dreaded dual timeline. And while not all such stories are duds, chances are good that if a book employs it, one timeline always ends up being way more interesting than the other. And that's what happened here.

You see, Lara and her husband are on their orchard, and their three grown daughters have come home to help them on the farm while hunkering down for the pandemic. The daughters want to know more about their mother's earlier life, and so she's telling them the story of her past.

The crux of the problem is that anything remotely interesting is happening in the past. Lara's stint as an actress, the people and the situations that surround her, her romance with Duke, while all compelling, attribute to only one of the two timelines. Regrettably, this compelling narrative is constantly interrupted by what's happening in the present, with so many scenes of the daughters picking cherries while arguing about their own interpretations of their mother's history. And that just didn't interest me at all.

It's almost as if the book is mirroring Our Town, the play mentioned within, by having the present timeline serve as its Stage Manager character, providing commentary and meaning for the past timeline. But that isn't necessary, and instead of adding to the story, the present only detracts from it.

The writing doesn't help. It has this unedited, rambling, somewhat roundabout style that a lot of literary critics would fall all over themselves to describe as subtle and reflective, but I would just call much ado. It works fine when the subject is interesting, but when it's not, you've essentially combined fairly dull prose with a humdrum plot.

I understand what this book is trying to do. It's taking a collection of prosaic, everyday happenings in the present, reaching back through the strands of time to tie it to the glorious possibilities of youth, and hence elevating the whole thing to be insightful and profound. But it didn't really achieve that. All it did was make me nostalgic for a bygone time. And while there's nothing wrong with that, I need a little bit more to really enjoy a story.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

I'm always drawn towards stories about plagiarism. You write 'em, I read 'em. And the ones I like best tend to be a little bit tongue-in-cheek and satirical, inviting you to see the world through the plagiarist's eyes. After all, they're not really bad people, are they? They see a story that needs telling, and they're the ones to tell it. So what if the story isn't theirs to tell in the first place?

And so Yellowface enters that arena with its own take on this eyebrow-raising topic. And right off the bat, I'm intrigued. June is an interesting plagiarist-protagonist. She starts off as a writer struggling for relevance, and that struggle is something we can all relate to. It's not as if she decides to become a plagiarist overnight. No, it's a slippery slope of small decisions, each one understandable on its own, that ultimately lands her in such an ignoble profession.

Once I started, I couldn't put it down. June's voice is as compelling as it is grotesque, and it's hard to look away from such self-inflicted catastrophe. You know this isn't going to turn out well, and yet she just keeps going. The best satires always elicit a lot of wincing, and that definitely happened here.

I don't mind telling you guys that this story made me uncomfortable. And I'm sure that is R.F. Kuang's intention. June isn't some crazy thief, at least not initially. Rather, she's drawn as this morally ambiguous, somewhat sympathetic character. In fact, from certain angles, she looks almost downright reasonable, making the best of what she's got. And this sly characterization leaves the reader both fascinated and uneasy, for we feel drawn towards June even though she is the villain of this tale. And that cognitive dissonance stays with us throughout.

The first half of the book was particularly strong for me because of that perfect balance between hero and antihero. There's a lot of subtlety that allows June to be both appealing and repulsive. However, once we get to June's book release and her subsequent guilt and justification, it does start to take on more and more of a crazed tinge, and as a result, lost a lot of the subtlety that made the first half so compelling for me.

There is a lot packed into this little story: racial commentary, inside look at being a writer and the publishing industry, internet trolling, cultural appropriation. And it's all done seamlessly. I have to applaud the author for both not being afraid to wade into these interesting topics, as well as saying something of substance about each of them.

What a fascinating story this turned out to be. Subversive and uncomfortable, it really drew me in and kept me glued to the pages. If you're looking for something that's both eminently readable and also leave you a lot to think about, this is it.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

I was no longer a child. I didn’t have the luxury to be one—that had been taken . . . by hunger, by exhaustion, and by the constant fight for survival.

A riveting and harrowing tale set during the Communist Revolution, Daughters of Shandong gives an intimate look into the perilous journey a mother and her daughters must embark on to escape Communist persecution after being abandoned by their family for not having produced a male heir.

I think this is one of those stories you can immediately tell is inspired by true events close to the author. It is too raw and too heartfelt to be mistaken for anything else. Eve J. Chung must have done so much meticulous research in order to piece together her personal family history as well as historical accounts of what was going on during this time. And the result is a seamless blend of fact and fiction that brings history to life.

At its heart, this is a story about love and resilience, and there is so much of both in here. I dare you to read it and not feel deeply moved. How anyone could have endured so much suffering and grueling hardship, then persevered in the end, is truly awe-inspiring. It reminds us that no matter how bad things are, there is always hope for a better tomorrow, especially for our children.

Reading this book makes me want to reach out to my parents and hear their stories. They grew up during the Cultural Revolution, and unlike the characters in this story, did not escape. They had a front row seat during their childhood to all the fear, famine, and turmoil. And I still see in them the legacy of this suffering to this very day, which makes what they have achieved, mostly to give me the opportunity for a better future, all the more amazing.

It also reminds me of just how precious the bond is between a parent and a child. The lengths Chiang-Yue went through for her daughters is beyond words. And it completely resonated with me. Is there no despair we would not endure and no hardship we would not gladly take on, if it meant our children's survival and happiness? Even if we have reached our limit, we will find within ourselves an even deeper well from which we can draw strength and courage we did not know we had in order to do all that we can for our children.

What a heartbreaking, but ultimately triumphant celebration of the strengths of mothers and daughters this story turned out to be. It is as searing as it is memorable. Even though Eve J. Chung has now done what she set out to do and told her family story, I hope she doesn't stop here.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

I feel like this is a book best read two or even three times, because just once left me rather confused.

Looking at the title of this book, perhaps you'd immediately guess that it's about two things: a murder, and the end of the world. And you would be right. And as is usually the case when a book is about two things, one ends up being more successful than the other.

The first half of this story focuses on the end of the world, and that was my favorite part of the book. I was absolutely riveted, turning the pages as fast I could, trying to figure out what was going on. There was this rather sinister feeling throughout, as if you know something wasn't quite right, but you can't put your finger on what exactly. And the more we learn, the stronger that feeling got. I totally ate it up.

Then about halfway through, we arrive at the murder as well as some revelations about the end of the world, and that was truly a satisfying "ah ha" moment for me. It was the highlight of the book, and so much of what had been hinted at thus far slotted into place.

But soon after, it started to go off the rails a bit. I went from being absolutely glued to my seat to quickly losing interest. I think it's because we switched into murder investigation mode, and that arc just wasn't as compelling. There were so many details and people, too many to really keep track of in my head. I kept forgetting who the characters were and how they related to each other. As small revelations appeared, only to twist upon itself later, then twist upon itself again, I just could not keep it all straight.

And not being able to remember really hindered my enjoyment. There were so many moments when a character would mention a fact or a relationship, and I would have to pause, desperately searching my memory for this morsel of information I should've known, only to come up empty. These pauses really took me out of the story and prevented me from being fully immersed in the mystery.

The other thing that constantly felt a little bit off was the story's simultaneous use of the 1st person and 3rd person narrator, which I've never seen done before (maybe with good reason). I kept being vaguely confused, uncertain if we're reading about a character's true feelings or our omniscient narrator's interpretation of them. And maybe there is no real difference between the two at the end of the day, but that dissonance gnawed on me.

I'll be honest, I think the writing and editing contributed to these issues. The story isn't that far off from being easier to understand, if only some of the more convoluted plot developments were pared back and the writing polished up for clarity. It's a shame the book went out the door as is, so close to being amazing and yet falling short of that lofty goal.

It seriously pains me that I can't seem to give Stuart Turton's books more than 3 stars. His premises are always amazing, and there is so much potential embedded in the pages. And yet, the execution is just a smidge too complicated and tortuous, leaving me feeling like I've gone through several rounds of plot-gymnastics rather than just being able to sit back and enjoy the stories for what they are.

Still, that being said, it's not going to stop me from reading more of Stuart Turton's books. So there you go.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars