The Last Equation of Isaac Severy

The minute I read the synopsis for The Last Equation of Isaac Severy, I moved it all the way to the top of my to-read list. A death, a mystery to be solved, a solution with the potential of far-reaching consequences? It sounded like exactly what I felt like reading. I popped over to NetGalley to see if I could request it (despite the fact that it had JUST been published!) and lo and behold, not only was it available, my wish was granted almost immediately! So thank you, Touchstone, for the opportunity to read this book in exchange for an honest review.

Part of what attracted me to this novel was that it reminded me of others that I've loved - including Mr. Penumbra's 24 Hour Bookstore, and possibly even Ready Player One, in terms of there being a race to solve a mystery, with an unlikely hero competing against more highly trained and resourced adversaries. However, Equation adds in a healthy dose of inter-generational family drama, which is also one of it's downfalls - for about the first third of the book, I had a difficult time tracking the family members and keeping them and their relationships to each other straight in my mind. That being said, it didn't keep me from enjoying the book. The characters are well developed, the twists and puzzles well thought out, and the solution of the final equation distinctly terrifying to consider. Additionally, author Nova Jacobs is an alum of USC (Go Trojans!) and her knowledge and love for Los Angeles is palpable in her descriptions of the city and it's various parts.

Very fun read, and would be a great book club selection, as there's lots of characters and relationships to dissect as well as themes relating to the pursuit of knowledge and the role of fate versus self-determination on large and small scales.

4/5 stars.

High Voltage

I *loved* this book. I've been a fan of Karen Marie Moning's Fever series for several years now, and although I've eagerly looked forward to every new installment, I haven't totally loved the last couple, but read them faithfully anyways. I  had actually forgotten about this one until I received my order confirmation from pre-ordering months ago (whoops!) and it popped up on my Kindle. I was engrossed in something else so it took me a few days to get to it but then... I fell in love.

High Voltage is a continuation of the series arc that focuses specifically on Dani O'Malley, the spirited teenaged-now-young-adult sidhe-seer sidekick to main series protagonist MacKayla Lane. Moning's first book focused on Dani apparently received tremendous negative feedback, as it was written from 14yo Dani's perspective and contained what some thought to be inappropriate sexual overtones for her age. I didn't love it, but I didn't hate it either. This one though, might be my favorite of the whole series. I won't say much more (because who can make sense of a review about book #10 in the series if you haven't read the previous books?) but it's ultimately hopeful and loving and I absolutely cried. If anything, the action and drama fall second to the character and relationship work in this book, which was a lovely departure in some ways from tracing the many (many, many, many) threads and story lines contained in this universe. The ending was a little ridiculous and over the top - but I'm here for it, and now eagerly awaiting installment #11. I won't forget about it next time.

5/5 stars, 

Love and Ruin

"It may be the luckiest and purest thing of all to see time slow to a single demanding point. To feel the world rise up and shake you hard, insisting that you rise, too, somehow. Some way. That you come awake and stretch, painfully. That you change, completely and irrevocably - with whatever means are at your disposal - into the person you were always meant to be."

As a fan of Paula McLain's previous works, I was thrilled to receive an ARC of her newest book, Love and Ruin, from Random House, in exchange for an honest review (thanks Random House!). I jumped into it right away, needing a break from my big YA kick as of late and hoping that some historical fiction / romance would be the cure. 

McLain does not disappoint. She's adept at taking historical figures and fictionalizing them in a way that is loving and respectful, even when the picture she is painting isn't always beautiful. This time around her subject is Martha Gellhorn and Ernest Hemingway, as she traces their love story from its illicit beginnings during his marriage to second wife Pauline Pffifer through to it's (yes, you guessed it..) ruin. I had a passing familiarity with Gellhorn as a journalist, but didn't know much about her, at least in comparison to Hemingway, and this is a theme in the novel - the ways in which Hemingway's star burned so brightly that it drew everything to it while simultaneously eclipsing it. McLain's written about Hemingway before, in The Paris Wife, but here it takes a turn. While in that narrative, we watch through first wife Hadley's eyes as their marriage crumbles apart, in this novel, we watch from Martha's perspective as she comes into her own as a writer, and Ernest begins to crumble. Martha was truly a woman before her time, and it's clear in the novel that Hemingway struggled with her strength and desire to cultivate a career and a life as a writer and war correspondent in a time period where she was breaking barriers and norms. Frankly, Hemingway comes across as quite the asshole throughout the novel, self absorbed, unable to empathize or see Martha's perspective, and petulant when he doesn't get his way. Even through these moments, it's made clear that their love was deep and real, even if it couldn't withstand the internal strain and external pressures placed upon it.

Overall, a really lovely read. I'm a fan of McLain's style, and after three excellent novels in a row (including Circling the Sun), I'm excited to see who's inner life she shines a light on next. 

4/5 Stars. 

Nasty Women

"If you’re an intellectually honest American, at some point you have to find a way to live with the knowledge that this country was founded on genocide, slavery, and misogyny. Every majestic national park was stolen from a murdered and exiled people. Some of our most beautiful historic buildings were constructed by the hands of human beings brought here in bondage. Nearly every “Great Man” we celebrate was raised by a woman working for free, then married to another woman who kept his house and raised his kids for free. This is the America we all know."

I wanted to love this book so hard! Nasty Women, edited by Samhita Mukhopadhyay and Kate Harding, brings together some of the best contemporary feminist thinking in the wake of Trump's election, from a wide variety of viewpoints and perspectives. Together, they paint a worrisome picture about the erosion of rights and rise in safety concerns for those negatively impacted by the president's policies and platforms, which is.... pretty much anyone not wealthy, white, or male. Many of the narratives are deeply personal - in fact, it's these chapters that pack the most punch. My favorites included "As Long As It's Healthy" by Sarah Michael Hollenbeck, which discusses fertility and living with disabilities, Sarah Hepola's "Refusing to Numb the Pain," about managing anxiety (or not) with alcohol, and Sady Doyle's "The Pathology of Donald Trump," which takes to task our labeling of Trump as mentally ill as a way of discrediting him. I also loved "All American" by Nicole Chung, and "X Cuntry" by Randa Jarrar. 

Overall, there is so much to love about this anthology. Maybe because I spend so much time reading feminist cultural and political critique already, there was also a lot in here that wasn't "new" to me, or didn't challenge my position or concerns about our current president, and I found myself skimming through quite a few chapters in order to get to the next one. 

3/5 stars. 

You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

I finished You Don't Have to Say You Love Me back in January, but haven't gotten around to writing about it just yet. This book was recommended by a friend, and specifically the audiobook, read by the author Sherman Alexie, for it's poetic and lyrical prose. This was also my first introduction to Alexie, a well known author whose works focus on the contemporary experience of Native American families living on and off the reservation.

There was a lot I enjoyed about this book - the chapters are short, some of them essentially poetry, and the narrative is non-linear, which made it very easy to jump in and out of the sotry as I was also reading (multiple) other things at the same time. Alexie talks about his life growing up, his family, the trauma and abuse he suffered, and the long term impact of these experiences on his current mental and physical health. What's most remarkable is that Alexie does so with so much love and compassion, as his traumas are not just his own, but historical traumas shared by his community and family.

There were times where this was difficult to listen to - I made the inadvertent mistake of listening to this while also reading two other books that focused on trauma and abuse, and it was too much for me at times. The audiobook also felt very looonnnggg to me, and I wonder if I would have felt the same way if I had read it in written form. Overall - beautifully written account of the power of trauma (historical and current) to shape and transform lives and communities.

3/5 Stars.

Turtles All the Way Down

“You know I love you, right?” I nodded. “My whole life I thought I was the star of an overly earnest romance movie, and it turns out I was in a goddamned buddy comedy all along. I gotta go to calc. Good to see you, Holmesy.”

I have read a LOT of YA lately. Depending on your criteria 7 of the 16 books I've finished this year have qualified as young adult novels (obvi, more reviews forthcoming) and I'm thinking maybe I need a break from the genre for a little bit. However, as a huge fan of The Fault in our Stars, I was excited to read Turtles All the Way Down, John Green's follow up novel to that smash hit, so I picked it up as soon as it landed in my library queue, despite my YA fatigue.  

Turtles centers on Aza Holmes, a young woman struggling with a significant but unspecified anxiety disorder. More than anything, Green's characterization of Aza's anxiety is what makes this book remarkable - from the way in which he describes her intrusive thoughts, to her destructive actions, and the ways in which her relationships are impacted by her anxiety - readers who have experienced similar symptoms will resonate with Aza in her ever-tightening spiral, as she navigates friendships, family, and romance, with a mystery thrown in for some extra drama. 

It's difficult for me not to compare Turtles to Stars, but I think they diverge in some significant ways. Although there are romantic storylines here, the primary relationship and driving force in the novel is that between Aza and her best friend Daisy, and I don't think I will ever tire of reading about complex female friendships. Turtles is a much more internal book, with a significant amount of the "action" occurring in Aza's mind. Although the books lacks some of the emotional punch of Stars, (I did not cry), Turtles is still well worth the read, and will hopefully be a validating and hopeful reading experience for those struggling with anxiety.