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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Readaroo Rating: 4 stars

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Readaroo Rating: 3 stars