Review: If I Die Tonight

If I Die Tonight by Alison Gaylin
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

If I Die Tonight is a mystery/suspense read that boasts a riveting plot, interesting characters and a beautifully written narrative—as well as a thoroughly disappointing conclusion that was so “all’s well that ends well” that it warranted a full star demerit.

The story is a tale of two cities—the Reed family and Pearl Maze. The Reeds are one more divorce statistic, with mom raising two brothers who couldn’t possibly be more different: the morose and somber Wade—a high school senior who is seen as a social outcast, and the sensitive and smart Connor, who until recently defended and stood by his older brother. When a local teen is killed in a hit and run, Wade becomes the primary suspect. Pearl Maze is one of the officers investigating the crime in their usually sleepy little town of Haverkill, but Pearl is plagued with demons of her own. As the story unfolds, through third person narration and Facebook posts, the truth is finally exposed— for the Reeds and for Pearl.

The characters here are three-dimensional and engaging, developed beyond the stereotypes they could have been. Wade and Connor are teens in every sense of the word, battling growing pains and trying to find their places in the world. Pearl is a study in contradiction—an honest cop who seeks out one night stands and copious amounts of alcohol in an effort to numb the pain of her past. Even the minor characters are imbued with back stories and behaviors that give them life beyond the page.

In addition to her rich characters, author Alison Gaylin has gone far beyond the typical mainstream mystery by wordsmithing prose that often sings in short, staccato bursts, and it is in these moments that the story shines.

“Back at the station, Ryan Grant’s eyes had been tear-bruised and vacant, his jaw slack, the rosiness drained out of his cheeks. Such a handsome kid and obviously popular, but his most noticeable feature had been his sadness.”

“Mason Marx was short and squat, with mean little pig eyes and the personality of bad cheese.”

“Sheila plucked one of the cookies from the tray—a powdery little thing that looked like a puff of smoke.”

This would truly have been a four star read but for the dismal conclusion. Without spoilers, it’s difficult to explain, but it felt like a Hallmark movie, all tied with a sparkly bow that somehow cheapened the journey to get there.

All in all, a read to be enjoyed for its characters, plot and phrasing—just don’t look for any true surprises at the end.

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Review: Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Well, here I am yet again, swimming upstream and going against the grain. I just didn’t enjoy Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine.

I will leave the traditional summary to those who have already provided it, as there are literally hundreds of glowing, positive reviews that give brilliant plot details. Suffice it to say, the entire book made me hugely uncomfortable. Even the attempts at humor were wistful, as it felt that the reader was having a laugh directly at Eleanor’s expense. Her past was so horrific, and her capacity to read social interactions so lacking, that reading was sometimes painful. Beyond just my own level of discomfort, however, was my visceral reaction to the conclusion. Seriously. Without spoilers, it’s tough to elaborate, but it felt cheap and cliche.

I’m not going to opine with the usual specifics I try to include in every review, because I am clearly in the minority. I will say that the prose was brilliant and, at times, beautifully tragic. In the end, reading about a damaged woman, dealing with a spectrum disorder and alcoholism, plagued by delusion and a past of domestic abuse, just made me...well, sad.

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Review: Just a Name

Just a Name by Becky Monson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I picked this up based not only on the “book-blurb” but also on the myriad four and five star reviews. I am happy to say, it did not disappoint. A light and easy read, this rom com was a little humorous and a lot of “cute”.

Just a Name is the story of twenty-something Holly Murphy, a woman recovering from a recent break up with fiancé Nathan Jones. Not only was she unceremoniously dumped, amid accusations regarding her controlling nature, she is also stuck with two plane tickets, which would have seen the couple to a honeymoon that included both London and Paris. Although one ticket is hers, the other is in her ex-fiance’s name and is non refundable. Friend Quinn, a local tv personality recovering from her own professional crisis (dropping the f-bomb on live television), thinks she has the solution to Holly’s ticket problem—why not allow the station to conduct a search for men named Nathan Jones and offer them the chance at an all expenses paid vacation—with Holly? Initially adamantly opposed to the idea, Holly eventually, though reluctantly, agrees and the game is afoot as she narrows the field of applicants to the stranger who will accompany her.

Listen, when I said this was “cute”, I meant CUTE with a capital C. There is no cursing (out of respect for Quinn’s debacle, all in the friend group are asked to refrain from using untoward language) and instead foul language is replaced by phrasing like “the S-word” and “the H-word”. Yeah. Maybe a little TOO cute. Additionally, there’s no sex, so this book would be totally safe for work (yeah, I was disappointed, too).

Finally, there are some funny moments here. Holly leads a call center team at a local bank, and their interactions are giggle-worthy. At times, the author was trying perhaps a little too hard for laughs, but it didn’t detract from the “feel-good” tone.

In the end, this would make a great beach read—breezy and fun, with a dash of humor.



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Review: The Boy

The Boy by Tami Hoag
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The Boy, a mystery/suspense novel, is the second in the Broussard and Fourcade series by author Tami Hoag. As a rule, I tend to shy away from books that are part of a same-character series, as I always feel a step behind if I pick up in the middle. Here, however, Hoag has written a haunting tale that stands alone—a harrowing story of neglected children, sexual and domestic abuse, misuse of power, and murder.

There is, first and foremost, a trigger here that needs to be reckoned with before the reader ever engages. KJ, a young child, is murdered in a most brutal way, and it is his death upon which the book hinges. In some novels of this type, that initial catalyst for the story is vague and ambiguous, an event gently couched in expository dialogue and narration. Hoag uses exposition but in that process provides numbing details about the crime that are sure to make the hairs on the back of the neck of any mother stand on end.

The remainder of the book is a web of subplots that connects four families who couldn’t possibly be more different, as the community mourns the loss of a child and authorities seek a killer. Broussard and Fourcade are both members of law enforcement, trying to raise their young son in the Cajun bayous of Louisiana. Genevieve Gauthier is a single mother trying to come to terms with the death of her own son. Sharon Spicer, a woman for whom appearances and security are key, juggles her fiancé and her son Cameron, who are like oil and water. Jojean Florette is a mother in absentia, a fist full of children growing up around her without the supervision of a responsible parent. Each character is given enough of a backstory to foster reader investment. They are complex beings who elicit a range of emotion, from sympathy to disgust, sorrow to malevolence. The collision course of their lives is complicated, but Hoag masterfully weaves their stories together in a tapestry of horrific events that forever changes them all.

At almost 500 pages, this is a read that requires some fortitude and concentration. The payoff is there at the end, though, as Hoag unravels the lies, deceit and confusion. Highly recommended, with the trigger warning caveat above. This is a series I intend to follow!


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Review: The Girl Who Lived

The Girl Who Lived by Christopher Greyson
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I think I need my “inner-rater” recalibrated. Many of the works I’m reading seem so majorly flawed, and yet the majority of readers appear to find them enjoyable and perfectly worthy of all the stars. The Girl Who Lived follows in that vein—an average mystery with a ridiculous ending and more four and five star ratings that has left me shaking my head.

The plot is unique—to that I will concede. Faith is a twenty-two year old woman who has spent the past ten years in and out of mental hospitals after surviving a vicious attack that killed her best friend, her best friend’s mother, her own father and sister. Though local authorities have closed the case, convinced her father killed them all and then himself, Faith remembers another man—a man with the face of a rat—whom she believes committed all of the murders and then chased her into the woods. Now that she is finally out of the hospital (again) and in her own apartment, trying to tamp her rage and alcohol addiction, Rat Face is back—and he is stalking her. Is it Faith’s own fear manifesting as paranoia, or is the past finally catching up? That is the question that propels the rest of this book.

So not only is the plot reasonably unique, the writing is also solid. The tone in each scene is well-developed, the dialogue is believable and Faith’s character is intriguing and complex. So why three stars? It’s difficult without spoilers, but suffice it to say that for me, the end is cheap and cliche and feels like a betrayal of the trust between author and reader.

This would have been a four star read had I not had such a visceral reaction to the conclusion. As it stands, however, three stars feels generous.



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Review: The Couple on Cedar Close

The Couple on Cedar Close by Anna-Lou Weatherley
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I am loathe to even write a detailed review here, as this is yet another slightly less than average piece of crime fiction, coupled with a nod to domestic noir. The premise is fairly formulaic—Laurie Mills awakens after a drunken bender to find that she is covered in blood, her husband Robert upstairs with his throat slashed. The rest of the story follows detectives as they discover the truth behind Robert’s murder. Yeah. Been done, right? The writing is average, the characters are fairly flat and the ending is drawn out in an excruciating painful denouement. There’s just nothing here to make this book stand out amongst the hundreds of others that seem to be churned into publication, one after the next, in assembly-line fashion. I could rail on about the issues that this author attempted to address—incest, domestic abuse, child abuse, incompetent police, mental health...but to be honest, it wouldn’t add much to what I’ve already written. It’s not a “bad” book, it’s just a “familiar” book that didn’t for a single second fully engage me in the reading. 2.5 stars rounded to 3

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Review: Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things by Jenny Lawson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Mental illness has historically been shrouded in shame and secrecy, but author Jenny Lawson has, in this absolutely hilarious collection of essays, opened that closet and allowed readers an unobstructed view into her own mental health issues. In spite of the serious nature of the theme, these pieces are not only funny but also raw, sometimes poignant and unflinchingly honest.

Lawson admits to having suffered numerous issues throughout her life. In addition to her crippling pain from rheumatoid arthritis, she is also a victim of periodic depressive episodes, tremendous anxiety and a host of phobias. In spite of all, however, in Furiously Happy Lawson lets her freak flag fly and confronts the social stigmas related to mental health with a comedic approach that is as surprising as it is refreshing.

I read this book a little at a time, particularly at night, when my own demons come home to stir up their devilment. The essays can be consumed individually, and not necessarily in the order in which they appear, which makes small doses easily consumable. Each piece in the collection stands alone—independent episodes that are as uplifting as they are entertaining. From Lawson’s predilection for taxidermied wildlife (the raccoon on the cover is a family institution) to her laugh out-loud-funny retelling of interactions with her husband, friends and fans, every page offers hope and support for readers suffering with their own inner conflict. Nothing is sacred here, and particularly the conversations with husband Victor are solid gold.

“Oh, holy hell … this website says I might have been impregnated,” I yelled at Victor.

“From a swan running at you?” he asked incredulously. “Do you even realize how crazy you sound right now?”

“Well, I’m problemly in shock. And possibly pregnant with waterfowl, so god knows what my hormones are doing right now. I just found a medical journal that says you need to seek ‘prophylactics’ after a swan attack. THAT’S HOW DEVIOUS SWANS ARE.”

Then Victor tried to explain that “prophylactics” means “preventative care” and doesn’t automatically equal birth control but I was too busy to listen because I may have just been forcibly impregnated by a murder of swans. Then Victor pointed out that it’s a “murder of crows” and that a group of swans is called a “lamentation” but I’m pretty sure that just proves my point because swans are mute, yet they’re named after a word that means “wailing in horrible pain”?

This is the perfect read for those who are afraid of the darkness that even sometimes comes in the daylight, but it’s equally as accessible for anyone who just needs a belly laugh, a giggle or even just a wry smirk. Highly recommended and a new favorite.


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