DNF - You know what they say, there's a first time for everything. And so A Psalm for the Wild-Built gets the ignominious distinction of going down as the first time ever I've given up on a novella, because I honestly can't stand to go on for another page.

There's something about Becky Chambers' writing that just doesn't work for me. How to describe it? Obviously, I know she writes cozy, so I try to align my expectations accordingly, but that's not quite it. Rather, it feels like everything is filler in service of a broader message. There's so much description and so much information, yet there is no point in knowing any of it. It's like all worldbuilding and setup, but the whole story consists of nothing but that.

Put another way, stories are normally either character driven or plot driven, and I happily accept both. But here, the characters aren't fleshed out and there's no plot whatsoever. Instead, the writing feels predominantly message driven, which I have a lot of trouble with. My mind keeps blanking out because I'm not actually reading anything of substance, so I can't retain any of it, no matter how hard I try.

It honestly pains me to finally get to an author everyone else is raving about, only to find out unequivocally that they are not for me. I have now read two Becky Chambers (her two most popular ones) and both were DNFs for me. That is about the worst I have ever done, but it is what it is. At least now I know for certain and no longer have to wonder if I'm missing out on anything.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

DNF - I think I started with the wrong Becky Chambers, because what in the galaxy is going on here? Or rather, not going on?

I knew before I started that this was a cozy, but I didn't realize cozies could be so low stakes as to be no stakes. So far, we've met every single resident on the spaceship, each overly friendly and sweet in their own way. We've also engaged in thinly veiled lessons on not making assumptions about other cultures and how every person can be beautiful no matter what they look like, along with an in-depth discussion about AI sentience and autonomy.

That's all great, don't get me wrong. But where is the tension, the plot, the anything? So far, my jaw's been getting a good workout from excessive yawning, but that's about it.

It's totally possible that if I kept going, this would've grabbed me eventually. But in my effort not to put myself into reading slumps, I think I'm going to call it. I'm not giving up on Becky Chambers just yet though. I'm going to move on to her novellas and see if they're more my speed.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

Before I go on, I just want to point out that I see nothing but glowing reviews for this book, so please keep that in mind. My thoughts are definitely in the minority, and I'll try my best to unpack them all here.

When it comes to literary fiction, it can be tough right out of the gate because they don't rely on plot the way genre fiction does. Instead, they draw you in with their complex characters and beautiful writing and ultimately, profound insight into human nature. So when I don't get any of that, it can be hard for me to connect with the story.

Let's start with the characters. I feel like we're always drawn to stories where the characters mirror the phase of life we're currently in. And so that was the case with April and Leo for me—they've been married for many years and have young children. This phase comes with a lot of excitement, no doubt, but it also brings unique challenges, so I was particularly curious to see how the characters would tackle them.

But almost immediately, I started having trouble. The characters don't come across as quite real. Or rather, they feel more like generalizations of what people in these situations would do and say, rather than actual individuals. There's an oversimplification and shallowness to their issues, feelings, and actions that started from almost the first page and became more and more pronounced as the story progressed, until I could no longer shrug it off.

And because the characters were stereotypes, the story followed that trajectory too. At every moment, what you think would happen does indeed happen. There were no real surprises, no actual revelations. And while I don't read a story like this for its twists and turns, I do read it for its insight, and there were none to be found here.

The writing style didn't help. Every scene of significance was followed up with tons of commentary about how the character thinks and feels, thereby telling you the reader how you should think and feel too. It is essentially telling thinly disguised as showing, and I'm not a fan. I always prefer understated writing, and this type of overwritten, overexplanatory fluff makes me feel like the author doesn't trust me enough to follow along.

When you put those sorts of characters and that type of writing together, what you end up with is a whole lot of clichés. And so as the story progressed and the stakes became higher, so did the amount of platitudes we were hit with over and over again.

This is also told via multiple points of view, and it was probably one too many. There was the central issue, which was April and Leo's house burning down along with their marriage. And then there was Deb and Billy's issue, which was really a separate storyline altogether. But by putting so many people and multiple big problems into one book, it means that there really isn't the necessary space for in-depth exploration and we get only surface level treatment across the board.

I also have to specifically call out April and Leo's marriage problems, which was at the crux of this story. I get what the author was trying to do. She was trying to show us that in a relationship, each person brings their own baggage into it and bad feelings can fester over time. But what actually transpired was just a whole lot of miscommunication. Or rather, a willful lack of communication on Leo's part, which he uses to stonewall and gaslight his wife at the lowest point of her life.

Please. The number of stories I have read in recent years in which authors try to pass off toxic relationships driven by one person as an all-parties-are-equally-at-fault extravaganza has got to stop. April, you need to run away. And Leo, you need to go to therapy. And all you readers who loved this book isn't going to convince me otherwise.

I'm looking at the sea of glowing reviews and can only imagine the problem is me. At the end of the day, I never really connected with the characters in this book. And when it comes to character-driven stories, that's pretty much the only thing that matters.

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

When you talk about elderly do-gooders sticking their noses where they don't belong and sussing out nefarious killers and ne'er-do-wells, you have to admit that Jane Marple is about as OG as they get.

It's been a bit since I've read a Miss Marple—almost seven years now—so I can be forgiven for failing to remember just how much I adore her. There is something about her fluffy mannerisms and her piercing insight into human nature that makes for a thoroughly delightful combination. In fact, even though Poirot is the most famous Agatha Christie detective, I suspect many of us secretly like Miss Marple a lot more, myself included.

Because Miss Marple is an amateur sleuth and not an official one, her stories feel a lot more organic compared to Poirot's. The mysteries unfold naturally around her, and we get to know all the players in the course of the narrative without them having to be hauled in for interviews one by one in a repetitive fashion. As such, her stories align much more with the flow of contemporary books, making them come across less dated and more timeless.

Speaking of modern, this one in particular reminds me a lot of neighborhood thrillers, just without the wacky twists and psychological melodrama you'd expect from more contemporary offerings. And just like its modern counterpart, every character in here has something to hide, and the lies and secrets pile up pretty quickly.

Agatha Christie writes with no frills. There is a simplicity and directness to her writing that belies the complex mystery underneath. After all, if everything appears straightforward, where possibly could the clues hide? And yet, she gets me good every time. No one does misdirection and red herrings quite like her, and no matter how I prepare myself, I keep falling into her traps.

Needless to say, I had lots of fun with this one and that's not just for an old book. The characters were interesting, the dialogue zippy and droll, and the situations sly winks to the predictability and folly of human nature. Agatha Christie might have written Miss Marple to be the keen observer of people, but underneath, it's really the author who is so.

Now obviously, if you've read Agatha Christie, then you don't need me over here making recommendations on books you already know. But if you haven't read her yet and you're a fan of neighborhood thrillers, let me submit this one for your consideration. It's a classic for a reason, and then you'll know what the fuss is all about.

"It is a mystery to me how anyone ever gets any nourishment in this place. They must eat their meals standing up by the window so as to be sure of not missing anything."

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

If nostalgia for young love and the lost days of summer had a name, it would be Every Summer After.

I'm always on the lookout for the quintessential summer read. There's nothing more satisfying than finding that perfect book to suit my mercurial moods during the long, lazy, too-bright days of my favorite season. And Carley Fortune has been on my radar for ages, ever since this book, her debut, catapulted her to the stratosphere of famous beach read authors. So it was with quite a bit of excitement and glee that I turned to that first page and prepared to be wowed.

But nothing happened, at least not initially. I was not pleased, nor was I displeased. It just felt like a very generic start to such a story, and there are many ones like it out there. But then, the more I read, the more I was taken in—with the characters, with the drama, but most importantly, with the feelings it evoked in me of a time gone by and the bittersweet memories it left behind.

And I think that's where this story really shines. It isn't so much that the more I read, the more I grew to love the tale, but rather, the more I was reminded of my own youth—the magical feeling of having my whole life stretched out in front me, the limitless possibilities and loves and adventures, the inevitable mistakes, and hurting the people I loved on the path to discovering who I really was.

This is a second chance romance, and I personally think those are hard to write. You have to not only come up with a strong enough love to begin with, but then you have to add in a plausible reason why such an auspicious couple cannot possibly be together, often for many years. And then after that, you have to come up with even more plausible reasons why these two sad characters can finally resolve all their previously unsolvable problems and get their happily ever after. Like phew, just thinking about all that makes me tired.

But no worries here, Fortune did a good job. She expertly interweaved the two timelines, one spanning the six years of Percy and Sam's youth, the other over one weekend twelve years later. Each brought something to the table, though it's clear the past timeline was the heart of this story. Percy and Sam's developing friendship and relationship through all the summer days of their youth, sketched through the glittering lens of Fortune's writing, captured all that is wonderful and beautiful and heartbreaking about growing up.

It's been a minute (or a few decades) since I was a teenager, and nowadays, I often have trouble connecting with stories featuring such young leads, usually finding them too immature or angsty to endure for a few hundred pages. But the ones in here were uncommonly responsible, with enough emotional depth to make them feel relatable and compelling.

While this wasn't a perfect tale, and there were definitely moments it felt like a debut author trying to find her legs or I had to suspend yet more disbelief in order to buy into the characters' actions, it did hold me in its thralls the way a good beach read should. I ended it feeling a little bereft at having to say goodbye to Barry's Bay, so I was happy to discover the existence of a sequel.

If you haven't tried Carley Fortune and you're a fan of beach reads, this is absolutely worth a gander. As for me, I've had the urge to listen to "The Boys Of Summer" this entire time. (Of course the original by Don Henley is fab, but my favorite remains the cover by DJ Sammy). So I'm going to go do that right now.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

What is it all the kids say nowadays? No notes, so good! Just kidding though, cause I have lots of notes.

So this is Alex Finlay doing what he does best. Everything I love about his thrillers is here—the characters, the mystery, the writing, not to mention the sheer intensity. I was drawn in from the very first page, and from there on out, I was holding my breath and turning the pages as fast as I could until I reached the very end.

To follow two characters as they try to figure out their own individual mysteries is an intriguing setup. Jules survived the May Day Killer, but is he coming back for her? And Quinn, fresh out of juvi, must find out who murdered his mother. Their two storylines weave back and forth, drawing closer and closer in the way that mysteries must, until everything ultimately collides into a satisfying conclusion.

We really get to know Jules and Quinn throughout this story. Some thrillers can come across a bit random because the characters feel interchangeable, but not here. Here, the dual points of view serve to sear these characters into our minds, and their growth and triumph is at the heart of this story's appeal.

When it comes to thrillers, I feel like I'm always complaining about how there's so much filler. Often, for large swaths of the narrative, nothing is happening, yet we follow character after character as they wallow and ruminate and jump at the shadows. So it's quite a breath of fresh air to get one where every chapter, every scene brings something urgent to the table.

A large reason for this is due to the book's unusual structure. Its timeline takes place exclusively on May 1st, year after year. We start in 1992, and then we jump to the same day the following year, and on it goes. And because there is so much time in between not covered, so much left unsaid within the pages, it necessitates a tighter narrative that strips away all the fluff and filler, automatically amping up the tension and making it unputdownable.

My only quibble is that the mystery component—and maybe it's more my fault than the story's—is too obvious. Normally when I read a mystery, I may start to get an inkling of what's going on, and by the end, I've gotten some things right and some things wrong. But in this case, I called it all and I did it with a large portion of the story still left. It doesn't take away substantially from my enjoyment of the whole thing, but I did wish for a eureka moment that never really materialized, at least for me.

Quibble aside, I had a lot of fun with this one. I loved Alex Finlay's first two books, heard his next few were a bit middling so I skipped, and here we are now. If you haven't read any Alex Finlay, you can't start with a better one. And if you've been holding off like I have, well, come on over cause he's back.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

Advertised as both a mystery and a romance, This Story Might Save Your Life somehow managed to fail me on both counts. The mystery was mediocre, the romance was icky, and the fervent adulation this book's been receiving has me scratching my head in confusion.

Let's take this one at a time. First, the mystery. Talk about much ado over nothing. You'd think with two people missing, there'll be juicy tidbits and surprising twists galore. But instead, we're literally sifting through clues like "xyz" and "ayyy" and acting like they're the smoking gun—I'm not even kidding. And this Benny guy, for a podcaster, can't even converse. His way of figuring things out was to badger everyone he knows and put his foot in his mouth over and over again.

The writing was very much in the way of a lot of domestic thrillers, aiming to be as opaque as possible in order to ratchet up the tension. So instead of just spitting it out, we get a lot of references to "the incident" and "you-know-who" just to add to the murkiness. But the thing is, having a story that is artificially ambiguous isn't the same as having an actually suspenseful mystery, and my brain was not fooled.

Then we get to the culmination, and I had a bit of a shocker, though not from surprise or delight. Let's just say, when you're reading a mystery, you never ever want the resolution to be a deus ex machina. And then, to really cement the lunacy, the wrap up proceeded to spell out in long, confusing, tortuous detail the entire ridiculous series of events that led to Joy's disappearance.

Now, onto the romance. I don't have a problem in general with infidelity in a story. In fact, I enjoy reading about it because I think real life is messy and complicated. But I do have a problem when emotional infidelity is presented as some sort of great love story, and that's what happened here. Joy and Benny were both married to other people, and they met and married those people after they met and fell in love with each other. So what exactly was their excuse other than sheer stupidity?

There was also the additional hook of a podcast, which Joy and Benny helm to the tune of millions of dollars and listeners. Yet, every time we peek at their content, it was nothing more than inane chatter and insipid flirting. I cringed so hard.

Usually, when I read a book that's not for me, I can still see why others would enjoy it. But in this case, I'm just baffled. What do you all see that I'm not seeing? Every component in here was so middling and uninspired, it makes every other book I've read in the genre look skillful by comparison. So yeah, I'm going to be here puzzling over this for quite a while.

I stare at the Batchelder-tile fireplace, the one Joy mistakenly called a “bachelor” fireplace until Xander corrected her in his singsongy accent.

P.S. Looking back, I should've stopped when I came to this line. Because with a straight face, it implies that not only are there three people in the world who know and care what a Batchelder-tile fireplace is without working in fireplace restoration, but they're all somehow in relationships with each other. And that's exactly the level of ridiculousness this story operates under.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

It's hard to deny that Five is conceptually interesting. But unfortunately, its execution ended up feeling more gimmicky than anything else.

We follow five characters as they converge upon the training station. In a few minutes, one of them will die. Who will it be? The omniscient narrator guides the reader along until we get to that pivotal moment and all is revealed.

Let's start with the characters. When you have a story like this with an ensemble cast, where five lives intersect and change over a brief period of time, it all comes down to the characters. And the ones in here are not really what I expected. They each come with a shtick—the narcissist, the addict, the psychopath, the child psychopath, and the one that only interacts with dead people. If that all sounds a bit over the top, well, it really was.

Instead of being well-rounded individuals with some flaws, the five people in here were all taken to the extreme. Whatever their problem is, it defines every bit of who they are. There is no subtlety, there is no humanity. And when everyone is so exaggerated, it can be hard to connect and empathize with them.

Did I care what happened to these characters? No. Was I curious who would die? Not really. Because to lose one unlikable character is pretty much the same as losing another, so it was all one big shrug for me.

The other major issue is the writing. I'm sorry to say, but I found it kind of obnoxious, especially the longer it went on. The author very much chose to lean into the omniscience of the narrator, to the point that they actually came across as an insufferable know-it-all.

Review everyone’s positions. Consider what they might do next. Consider what you know that they do not, and will not, until it happens, until the train that is headed toward them is unable to stop in time.

I understand this is trying to break the fourth wall, but result was just unappealing. Instead of showing the reader and letting us figure things out for themselves, we are told what to think and how to feel every step of the way.

Life and death happen regardless of what you think, or guess, or put in your online review, or dream of, or work for, or choose, or want. Or deserve.

Yikes! This sort of grating, repetitive, and overexplanatory prose was everywhere, breaking into pivotal scenes and dispensing platitudes like they might actually be rare nuggets of wisdom.

I get it. This was supposed to be some sort of revolutionary, never before seen style of prose and storytelling. But maybe, just maybe, there is a reason no one in the past has attempted this type of narrative. And it's because instead of coming across as compelling, it's just off-putting.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

"Blood is one thing. The sight is another. But courage—that is rarest of all, Vasilisa Petrovna."

A dark, lush, achingly beautiful tale set against the coldest winters of a bygone Russia, The Bear and the Nightingale swept me away with its unforgettable characters and lyrical prose, and in the process, completely captivated my heart.

There's no feeling like picking up the first book of a fantasy series, especially one rooted in mythology and folklore. I know I will be transported to a land and time far away, full of magic and monsters and of course, the forces of good and evil fighting it out over the soul of mankind. And such was the story here, though it surpassed all my expectations.

The setting of medieval Russia and the coming of age of a girl who must cast off the chains of womanhood to achieve greatness made this feel like a tale both old and new. Our heroine Vasilisa is the heart of this story. She is so strong and fierce and courageous, even in the face of unimaginable obstacles. Following her journey and cheering her on as she stands between her home and the evil monsters bent on destroying it was an absolute delight.

The prose was sublime, and I say that as someone who's not normally fussy about such things. I'd happily take some ugly writing in exchange for a fantastic plot. But thankfully, no such tradeoff was needed here. Every line felt carefully crafted, bringing the story to life with a vividness that was not to be denied. I frequently found myself lingering, rereading sentences and passages much too beautiful to savor only once.

Often, fantasy can come across as a bit juvenile, especially if they feature a protagonist in their teens or early twenties, making the whole thing feel more YA than adult. But the author managed to sidestep that quagmire here, sketching Vasilisa with such elegant restraint and only glancing at the sort of romantic and melodramatic notions that frequently drag down other narratives in similar situations.

Two quick words of caution. One, the book very much sticks to the authentic Russian naming and nicknaming system, so the same character was often called different things by different people. This led to some confusion the first time I read it, but on reread, I had no problems. I think the different names threw me off the first time, but if you're aware going in, hopefully you'll be able to figure them out via context with minimal issues.

Two, this has a bit of a slow start. It isn't one of those stories that roars into action from the get-go. In fact, a lot of its charm lays in its gradual development as we immerse ourselves in the atmosphere and the land and its people. It isn't until a third of the way in that the action moves to the forefront and the plot really starts to reveal itself.

I am in awe of this story, all the more so because it is Katherine Arden's debut. Now that it's whet my appetite, there's no way I can stop. I want more of its wintery magic and the fierce heroine within who defies all odds. It's a good thing this isn't a standalone, and there are still two more books to come to satisfy my cravings.

"Tell us of the frost-demon, the winter-king Karachun. He is abroad tonight, and angry at the thaw."

Readaroo Rating: 4.5 stars

How many odd and nefariously-utilized floorplans can there possibly be out there? Well, according to Uketsu and Strange Buildings, there's at least 11.

But first, let me take moment to shake off the goosebumps. That was intense, and I mean that in the best way possible. Reading Uketsu is always an experience. Once I start, I don't want to stop. I'm always thoroughly enthralled until I reach the very last page, and this was no different.

To understand Uketsu's appeal, you first have to understand what his stories are. Under the giant umbrella of the mystery/thriller genre, they fall onto the mystery side, specifically those that involve puzzles and fair play. As such, the clues are always there and the reader need only be clever enough to figure it all out alongside our protagonist. Now obviously, that did not happen to me and I succeeded in solving not a single iota of anything, but that's where all the fun and appeal lies.

And while I wouldn't go so far as to put Uketsu's books into any sort of horror category, his mysteries definitely feel tinged with chilling and macabre vibes. There is a tension and dissonance throughout that sets the overall tone, and it works to keep me on my toes.

Now, this goes without saying, but you do have to suspend a fair bit of disbelief to enjoy this story. In real life, have you ever come across even a single architectural anomaly that points to crimes and secrets? I don't think so. But the main character in here, after the success of his previous book Strange Houses, had so many people send in their own such house issues that he was able to pick out 11 and turn them into a story. Like, come on. So yes, a healthy suspension of disbelief is a must.

Speaking of that, I find it interesting that Uketsu has bestowed upon his main character the honor of being the writer of his books. I don't see this plot device often, but the few times I have, it blurs the line between fiction and nonfiction. And when it comes to mysteries, the more real and authentic it might seem, the more unputdownable it is.

Needless to say, I was absolutely riveted. The beginning, as each of the odd floorplans was introduced, felt more like a collection of short stories. But then as we went on and the disparate vignettes started to intertwine, the complexity and the addictiveness ratcheted up, until we reached the culmination of everything. And what a culmination it was. My suspension of disbelief skills was thoroughly tested, but I enjoyed every moment of it.

This is the sort of mystery that feels like it might be best read twice back-to-back. Because by the time everything comes together, there are so many elements and characters and floorplans at play, it can be hard to keep them all straight. The book did try to do some recapping, which was helpful, but I suspect if I read it again while everything was still fresh, I'd probably see the story from a whole new perspective.

A quick word of caution—be sure to check the trigger warnings if you're a sensitive reader. There are definitely some dark elements in this story.

Uketsu's mysteries are always so unique and such a celebration of the puzzle within, I can't help but be captivated. There's a part of me that has always clung to my childhood dream of being a detective when I grow up, and reading these books and hunting for clues in the pictures within, I feel like maybe I still can be.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

"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

If you like your romance with tons of sap and the sort of head-scratching obtuseness that keeps its characters apart for no discernible reason, then First-Time Caller is for you. Me, I rolled my eyes through the whole thing.

This started out all right, sweet and earnest if a bit cheesy. Lucie has been a single mom for a long time and is feeling lonely. Her daughter calls up a romantic radio talk show to see if she can help her mom find some love. And what do you know, Lucie and the host Aiden hit it off immediately and there's sparks everywhere, and so we've got ourselves the beginnings of a romance.

Yep, that's all good, but that's only enough content to cover like a chapter or two. And so I find myself asking, what will the rest of the book be about? Well, it seems like the author was asking herself that same question for the rest book too, because nothing else of consequence happens. We just follow Lucie and Aiden as they talk and spark but deny that they like each other due to various made-up reasons, for hundreds of pages.

Every scene, every interaction, every dialogue just goes on and on. They say the same things to each other, they rehash the same dubious reasons on why they can't be together. Like have mercy, right? We don't need everything spelled out in such excruciating detail, every scene so thoroughly beaten to death.

Tension in a story comes from what is unsaid, not what is said. It is what the reader fills in with their mind in between the lines. So when you stretch every scene and every moment to the max, you have effectively removed all the tension from the story. And you know what you have when there is no tension in a romance? One big bland slog. And indeed, that is this story.

And the longer this went on, the less patient I became. What started out as mildly flirtatious dialogue soon stretched into the sort of awkward, cloy chatter you'd overhear from teenagers and cringe at in real life. And Aiden's grumpy demeanor morphed into the kind of emotionally unavailable character that no real, self-respecting woman would touch with a ten foot pole.

In fact, it got so bad through the second half that I found myself hoping Lucie would come to her senses and ditch Aiden. Lucie, run away! You deserve so much better!

All these issues can be traced back to one problem—the book was just too long. It did not have enough content to fill up over 400 pages. And so instead of coming up with some additional believable conflict or trimming it down, the author instead chose to go with what she had and pad it up. And that's exactly what it feels like when you read it. Every chapter is just the same thing over and over, the same dialogue on repeat, the same angst as to why they couldn't possibly be together when nothing was standing in their way.

So yeah, to all the folks who read this and loved it and want Aiden to be their boyfriend, have at it. I'm taking my ten foot pole and running the heck away.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars

"A table surrounded by suspects in a house full of secrets? I wouldn't miss it for the world. Time to give that jar of hornets a good old shake."

Oh my! The Murder at World's End had no business being so much fun.

I feel like murder mysteries are a dime a dozen. And the ones that purport to kick off a whole series of murderous shenanigans? Well, that's pretty much all of them. But most end up being meh to middling, with the sort of lackluster implementation that makes me question if I still even like the genre, let alone want to come back for more. So when I find one that actually grabs me, I get pretty darn excited.

We kick off this story with a little tie-in to Halley's Comet, and my interests were immediately piqued. It was such an unusual start to a murder mystery, I couldn't help but be intrigued. Then we're introduced to our main character Stephen and our setting of Tithe Hall, and our murderous little adventure is off to the races.

Every component of this story—the characters, the dialogue, even the mystery itself—felt a little bit different than your usual fare. And that unexpectedness kept me on my toes. It automatically means that I was paying more attention and I was more invested because I had no idea where it was all going. And I couldn't gobble it up fast enough.

There is a chaotic element to the way this story unfolded, and while I normally shy away from such a thing (neat and orderly for me, please), it totally worked here. Add to that the zippy writing and the actually laugh-out-loud dialogue, and the whole thing gave off such a wacky and spirited vibe.

Regarding the mystery itself, my bar is high. I've read a ton of mysteries, so it's rare for any of them to surprise me. And this did not. In fact, the book made what I assumed was an unforced error, which clued me in pretty early on. [View spoiler below] But that didn't affect my enjoyment one bit.

In fact, the way the mystery unfolded, with its attention to clue-gathering and focus on science and facts, was particularly appealing to me. It's always fun when a mystery lets you play along by giving you all the same clues that its fictional detectives have so that you can also have a crack at it. And it harkens back to the style of the Golden Age of mysteries, which prioritizes the inherent puzzle of the whodunnit over more modern fixations of outrageous twists and psychological drama.

Maybe my only warning is that there is a small amount of swearing in here. I personally think that swearing in the right place and the right time can add emphasis and even a bit of comedic relief, and this book got it right on both counts. But I know not every reader agrees, so just be aware if you're sensitive to that.

So yes, no doubt about it, I enjoyed this very much. And I'll definitely be counting down the days until book 2 is out and in my hands.

I didn’t have anything to say to that. I just stood opening and closing my mouth like a fish pulled out of the ocean and slapped on the deck.

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

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[Spoiler] As soon as Temperance joined their investigative trio, the gig was up. The series is titled "Stockingham & Pike" and the only possible way she's not on the bill is if she dunnit.

Was this supposed to funny? Cause I didn't laugh.

Going in, I thought Yesteryear would be a slam dunk for me. But now I've found myself in the unexpected position of being just about the only one who didn't like it.

I thought this story was going to be about a traditional wife, one who wants to stay at home and revel in the domesticity of child rearing, cleaning, and cooking, all the while playing it up for the cameras of her social media account. And then one day, she actually wakes up in the 1800s and bumbles around, much to her consternation and our amusement. Now wouldn't that have been an interesting story? But instead, I got something else altogether.

You see, Natalie doesn't revel in the role. She only pretends to. Instead of spending her life doing what she actually enjoys, she inexplicably tortures herself into living a life she can't stand and faking her enjoyment of it, all the while looking down at every single person who doesn't adhere to her view of what a traditional woman should be. And so right off the bat, I'm confused. Because what exactly is the point here?

As is every story, it all comes down to the characters. And Natalie never gelled into a real, coherent one for me. She hates being a mother, but keeps having more kids. She hates farming, but insists on living on a farm. She doesn't like her husband, but screams at her sister for divorcing. And through it all, she documents every step for social media just so she can pretend some more. Yeah, I didn't get it.

There's a level of cynicism here that was hard to stomach. Natalie had a constant, internal dialogue of hate towards just about everyone who wasn't her, and it was painful to read. She viewed herself as a victim with no choice, even though every decision was hers the whole way through and she could've stopped at any time.

But Natalie isn't real, she's the creation of the author. So I feel like I'm forced to ask why Caro Claire Burke chose to write Natalie this way. It felt unnecessarily mean-spirited and cruel. Sure, there are women out there who want to have lots of kids and make every meal from scratch and let their husbands be the sole breadwinner of the family. But so what? I certainly wouldn't write a whole story just to make fun of them.

I understand this is supposed to be satire, but it really missed the mark. Satire isn't just the act of mocking. In order to be effective, it also has to say something of substance. But the problem here is that even when presented with a slew of worthwhile topics, the book instead chose to eschew them all in favor of returning again and again to focus how deranged Natalie is, all the while punishing her for her views.

When you go so over the top, you end up losing the humanity underneath, and it becomes harder to see these characters as real people. Instead of being subversive and feminist, this book actually reinforces the awful idea that women are crazy and can't be trusted to figure out what they really want.

And maybe that's at the crux of my negative feelings. When you create a character that's so spiteful and unhinged, you're essentially walking them down a path of mental illness. And I guess I just don't find yet another story about a woman acting crazy and being perceived as mentally ill to be that funny.

I'm looking at the wide gulf between my thoughts and everyone else's, and I'm honestly puzzled. Perhaps I read a different book. Or I just lack the sense of humor necessary to understand this one. Either way, I'm in the minority, so don't let me dissuade you from giving it a try.

Your mother lies to you, and then you lie to your children, and then your children lie to their children, and then you are an old woman, looking back at your own life, lying to yourself.

Readaroo Rating: 2 stars