Razorblade Tears

 

One review of this book promised "great Gothic geysers of blood." Which would be a hell of a title, actually. That's not why I chose to read this book, but it certainly lived up to that.

Lots of blood. Lots of killing. Lots of violence.

Too much unnecessary dialogue. 

Too many metaphors.

Razorblade Tears is the story of two dads - one white, one Black - whose sons were married to each other and were brutally murdered. The dads weren't good to them in life because of their sexuality. They decide to come together and dig back into their criminal pasts to avenge their sons' deaths.

That's the plot; you could figure that out from the jacket.

After reading the whole book, that's basically it. No hidden messaging. No major plot twist. Just... that.

It was fine. There were some interesting moments, it kept me turning the pages. But, when it got done, it just didn't feel very far from where it started.

Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

 

I swear to you, Dax Shepard has a publishing company because every time he has someone on his podcast that writes a book, I buy the book. In this case, I guess I checked out the book from the library, but you get my point.

I've always loved Nick Offerman, but it wasn't until I heard him on Armchair Expert that I knew I had to read this book. 

It's sort of  a strange choice for me on the surface, as it's a book about the outdoors and I'm a decidedly indoorsy person. But, he's so dang charming and the book starts in Montana, so how could I resist?

I expected I might like this book, which describes our relationship to nature through several scenarios and settings. I had no idea I'd love it so much I finished it in just over a day. 

The best part about this book is that you can hear Offerman's voice throughout. That very distinct voice and cadence translates seamlessly to the page. I could have listened to the audio book, but reading it, I heard his voice in my head. Ron Swanson, talking about tromping through Glacier Park? Sign me up!

Overall here, Offerman's book gently (and sometimes overtly) urges us to examine our relationship with the outdoors. Turn off the phones. Leave the headphones at home. Just walk outside and appreciate what's already here. He gets political at times. He'll make you laugh out loud (on a plane, like a weirdo). And, he's encouraged me to not only maybe try getting outside once in awhile, but more likely to just check out more of his books and cuddle up at home.

One of my favorites of the year!

The Great Glorious Goddamn Of It All

 

What a delightful little book!

Okay, it's a book about mining in Idaho and people die at labor was a real mess. But, the book itself is really fun to read and filled with fascinating characters.

This book is about the last days of the lumberjacks through the eyes of 99-year old Weldon Applegate. He's a crotchety fella with fantastic dialogue and I could picture him from the opening pages. He's looking back at his life in the tiny logging town of Cordelia, Idaho. His time as a boy when he lost his mom, then lost his dad to the call of the woods.

You'll read a story about the history of the northwest, about bootleggers and lumberjacks who were seeing their way of life dying out. It's a relatively quick read, but one I enjoyed through almost every page.

Madam: A biography of Polly Adler, Icon of the Jazz Age

 

I sure do like a book about old timey sex workers.

I first heard about Madam - and, Polly Adler herself - when the author of this book was on CBS Sunday Morning. I'll buy anything that appears on CBS Sunday Morning; it's like my QVC. Anyway, as soon as I saw this story and heard about Adler's story, I dropped the request on the library website.

Polly Adler's story is uniquely American, though she herself was an immigrant from Belarus. She came to this country with nothing, poor and passed from family member to family member. After working at low-paying jobs, she finally realized the real money at this time in New York City was in the brothels that were frequented by everyone from professional athletes to prominent politicians. 

Polly took that idea and ran with it all the way into history. She was THE madam of the day and an absolute legend in New York City. History may not remember her name, but the imprint she had on that city in that time was undeniable.

This book was about sex work in the Jazz Age to a point, but was also a fascinating look at the Jazz Age in general. That combined with the history of New York City makes this a fascinating - albeit long - read.

Leave the World Behind

 

I need to stop reading about the end of the world during a pandemic. Yet, here we are again.

Leave the World Behind starts as a relatable adventure: a white family escapes the city for a vacation in upstate New York. They rent a home and immediately settle in to a routine that describes most of the vacations I've taken in recent years: kids in the pool, lazy afternoon dinners, too much wine, vacation bliss. Then, things go south - and fast.

There's a knock at the door of this rural home and a Black couple stands on the doorstep. It's their home, it turns out. They rented it out to the family. But, there's been a mysterious blackout in New York City and they decided to come north to get some refuge. 

Immediately, the wife in the rental family is skeptical. Who are these people? Can we trust them? Are they too respectable looking to be Black? The wayward couple recognizes it all and eases the family's minds enough to allow them - the owners of the house! - to settle in the family's basement until they decide what to do next.

Everything is suspicious. There's no phone service, no internet, no information about what's happening in the world around them. What they quickly learn is that none of it is good and these two families need to decide what to do next, while strangers under this one roof.

Did I like this book? I mean, I think so? It was fascinating enough to keep me reading and guessing. It's been weeks since I finished this book and I feel this lingering sense that the ending was unsatisfying.

My Monticello

 

I'm not a short story fan. I can't explain specifically why, but it feels just too jolting to wrap up what could be a novel in a few pages. This book is absolutely the exception and has such a fascinating premise in the main story that I can already imagine what a movie version could look like.

There are a couple other stories that serve as powerful warm-ups for the main event, but I'll focus this review on the story that makes up most of this book. It's a concept so original, so powerful, so metaphorical that I absolutely found myself wanting more.

Da'Naisha is a young Black woman living in Charlottesville, Virginia. We quickly learn she's a descendent of Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemmings. When white supremacists take over their city and put its Black residents at risk, Da'Naisha and others flee into the hills outside of town. They find themselves at a former home-turned-tourist attraction Monticello, a place where the white narrative was the only story told here for decades.

Da'Naisha and the group settle in to Monticello, finding shelter in the house and even working the surrounding grounds. This site, once the home of hundreds of Black slaves, becomes their sanctuary from the racist white men who want them dead.

I don't want to reveal too much about the powerful story that unfolds. The premise enough should have you hooked. 

Unbound

 

I'm starting to wonder if the podcasts I listen to are secretly conspiring to make me buy books.

Unbound is an example of another book I hadn't heard of until I heard Tarana Burke on a podcast (Glennon Doyle's podcast this time.) Halfway through the episode, I hit pause and opened another tab to order this book.

Not enough people know Tarana Burke's name, but they absolutely should. She's the originator of the Me Too movement before it was a Hollywood hashtag. Growing up as the victim of sex abuse, she always assumed she had done something wrong. She was the one who broke the rules and somehow deserved what happened to her. It wasn't until she unburdened herself from that secret that she discovered how many other women would hear that story and say "me, too."

Burke's book begins the day she realizes the mission she'd worked on for years was being co-opted as a hashtag. While initially annoyed and even horrified, she eventually figured out how to embrace it and see her messaging amplified.

Unbound tells the story of Burke's life from childhood to activist. While I didn't grow up in nearly the same circumstances, I found Burke's story powerfully relatable. Her story deserves to be told and celebrated for the change she made in our world.

Cloud Cuckoo Land

 

From my shameful DNF of the last book to what was one of my favorite books this year, I embraced the 600+ page Cloud Cuckoo Land from day one and wished it would never end.

Anthony Doerr is a master, we know. All the Light We Cannot See is one of  my all-time favorites. And, sometimes you just need a sweeping, epic story.

How can you describe a book that spans centuries from 15th century Constantinople to modern-day Idaho? Orphans and professors and people living in space? Somehow, though, Doerr brings them all together in such a seamless way, I never worried for too long how they would all come together.

This book feels like a magical childhood story, science fiction and history all wrapped into one. Add to that the struggles of a single mom with an Autistic son. Even the stories of the family living in space in an attempt to populate another planet seem relatable.

It's too hard to sum it all up, but if you like a good story that truly transports you, don't be intimidated by the weight of this book and you will be rewarded.

Harlem Shuffle

I feel like I have to give my street cred card back. The street cred card that says "This Woman Reads Good Books." Because while this book is on every list of the best books of 2021 and I have loved every other thing Colson Whitehead has written, this was my one DNF of the year.

Did not finish.

Quit in shame and never looked back.

I'm sorry, everyone. I just couldn't get into it! I kept trying - I made it halfway through. Then, I found myself not even caring what happened to the main characters and I knew it was time to let it go.

It wasn't the quality of the writing. Whitehead has such a rhythm to his work that feels different in all of his books. It wasn't the subject matter. I liked reading about Ray Carney's attempts to live life as a legitimate businessman in Harlem in the 1960s. I was intrigued by the criminal element and the stories it told about that time in New York City. 

I just felt like it wasn't going anywhere and I wanted off the ride.

There are a million reviews of this book that are glowing and I definitely think those folks know more about this stuff than I do. I just found myself asking for grace (from myself) for deciding to move on from what I know will be a celebrated book in literature.

 

      

 

The Penelopiad

 

If I had to live with one literary genre forever, it would be "Mythology When The Women Finally Get To Speak." 

I love every book I've read like this - Circe, Silence of the Girls, etc. This one was by far the most creatively, uniquely written and it felt a little like sinking into a warm bath.

The The Odyssey, Homer is just sailing around getting in trouble. We barely hear about Penelope, who is faithfully waiting at home. This is her chance to tell her story and Atwood does it with a modern twist on her voice and what one review called "a story that becomes as wise at it is haunting."

I laughed out loud reading this. I ached for Penelope. I embraced this genre once again with a verve that has me ALMOST reaching for the classics again. Then, I remember who was telling those tales and think again. 

Should We Stay or Should We Go

 

I had such high hopes for this book and, in the end, I'd say it met seven out of 10. Style points for originality and subject matter for sure. Though, I'll admit, it lost me a little at the end.

This book focuses on a couple with varying opinions about life. After watching the death of her dad from Alzheimer's, our protagonist Kay and her husband start talking about when life is worth living. Is it worth decaying over time to a point where you don't recognize yourself and are a burden on others? That's when they make a deal: if they're still alive when they turn 80, they'll end their own lives. 

It's all well and good when that date is far in the distance. But, by the time they turn 80, Kay feels like they have so much life still to live! And Cyril, obsessed with understanding the outcome of Brexit and the COVID pandemic, wonders if he should forget his promise and see how it all plays out...

They make their decision and we see the fallout. Then, the book turns upside down.

In the second half of the book, we see multiple parallel universes. What happens if she survives and he doesn't? And vice versa? What if they end up in nursing care? What about cryogenics?? We see how every scenario would play out and, if you're like me, you'll keep changing your mind about which outcome is best.

I love the concept of this book and the characters. Like I said, though, after I got through the first few 'alternate endings', I just wished for a conclusion. 

What Happened To You

 

I know I'm supposed to like this book. I'm supposed to like it because Oprah said so! I mean, she didn't, but.. It's Oprah!

I was fired up to read this book, as I've spent much of the last couple of years learning more about the impact of trauma on people's lives. Not that I feel like I've had deep trauma, but this movement to recognize trauma is fascinating to me and is a much better way to evaluate people and relationships.

This book was lauded by every podcast interviewee, but I'm wondering if those who were so enthralled by it actually read it. It would have been much better as an audio conversation than a book (audio book, perhaps?)

The concept is that the book is a conversation between Oprah and Dr. Perry, who is a leading expert on the effects of childhood trauma. But, to me, it didn't work as a written convo. I found myself wondering if both of them just liked hearing themselves talk too much for it to be insightful.

The message here is important - that what happens in our childhood shapes us forever. I just feel like the message can be - and, has been - delivered in much more compelling formats.