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.