Mars Room

Sometimes, I just don't get it.

Sometimes, a book is critically acclaimed and widely praised and, in the case of The Mars Room, a finalist for the Mann Booker Prize - and for me, it falls completely flat.

I had such high hopes for this book after reading review after review about its characters and social commentary. I put it on my library holds list and waited anxiously for it to show up. I even raced through the first couple of chapters, knowing it was going to be transformative and enthralling.

Then, I ended up slogging through, waiting for some turn or twist or something that would show me why this book is being so celebrated. For me, it never came.

The Mars Room has a bit of an Orange is the New Black quality, in that it's set inside a womens prison and explores the backstory of the women who ended up there. The author did extensive research about our prison system today and the poverty and drug abuse that provides a common thread of the women who end up there. But, for me, there wasn't enough character development to really feel for any of the women - or the men that are featured as well.

It feels like the author tried to do too much. Is it social commentary? Is it narrative? Is it the problematic themes set forth by unreliable narrators? Is it black comedy? What does the Unabomber have to do with anything?

I do feel like a novel can accomplish all those things at once (except maybe the Unabomber part), but I don't think this book did it.

Looking at the Good Reads reviews, I'm not alone in thinking this. Yet, there are also plenty of people who got it and understand the critical acclaim. For me, I don't feel like I missed anything. I feel like The Mars Room truly failed to deliver.

The Blood of Emmett Till

"America is still killing Emmett Till..."

Think about that for a minute.

63 years after a group of white men kidnapped and murdered a 14-year old black child because they thought he disrespected a white woman, we - as a nation - are still killing boys like him. Whether it's guns, fists, marginalization or white supremacy, society is still guilty of unspeakable injustice.

This book is a lot. And, it's supposed to be. This story has been told for decades and Till's murder touched off many facets of the civil rights movement, but it has in large part been incomplete. This book and the confession of sorts it contains actually spurred the Department of Justice to reopen the investigation into Till's murder. It's powerful, it's eye-opening and it's as important to read as it is difficult.

I've been surprised this week in talking about this book how little people know about this case. It could be time, but more likely, it's geography. Living in the Northwest shields many from much of the awful history of what prompted the civil rights movement. If you're not familiar, Till lived in Chicago and was spending the summer with his family in rural Mississippi. The story has always been that he had the nerve to grab a white woman's hand in a grocery store, then whistle at her as she walked outside. That woman also claimed, for a time, that Till grabbed her around the waist and she had to struggle to escape. Whichever it was at the time, it was justification for murder at that time in that place.

After hearing her story, Carolyn Bryant's husband and others came to get Emmett Till in the middle of the night. Days later, his body floated up in the Talahatchie River, badly beaten and barely recognizable. His mother back home in Chicago insisted on opening her son's casket and showing his mangled body to the world. She never stopped fighting for an end to the injustice that led to her son's murder. Four days after hearing his story, a woman named Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus.

This book begins with Carolyn Bryant, all these years later, telling the author that the story the world believes about Emmett Till - the story she told about what happened in the store that day - wasn't true. He didn't grab her around the waist. He didn't grab her hand at all. Bryant couldn't remember exactly what happened or why the story was embellished the way it was, but she believes now that he did nothing that would have justified what came his way. All these years later, of course, it's much too late.

The book not only tells the story of Till's murder and the infuriating trial that led to the acquittal of the men who admitted killing him (the defense attorneys flat-out told the jury to ignore facts and evidence), it also lays out the climate of the south at that time. Many in Mississippi and other parts of the south believed black men were coming to take over the government, to take their land, and - most of all - to rape their women. Emmett Till personified that threat, even though he was a child. The narrative sounds so implausible - and, also so terrifyingly familiar.

You realize that Emmett Till's story only became the rallying cry that it was because his mother insisted on opening his casket. She lived for justice for her son until her dying day, just 15 short years ago. She never gave up fighting for him - like so many mothers of the current movement have done as well.

There are other stories here of unspeakable bravery. Men and women who risked paying the same price Emmett paid, just to make sure the truth was told. Like the man below who stood up in an all-white courtroom in the deep south and pointed a literal finger at the white men who killed a black child.

This is a tough read. It's tough to hear the details of a teenager's brutal murder. It's tough to realize that this happened in the relatively recent past - our parents were alive for this. And, it's tough to admit that while we have come a long way in the fight for equal rights, we still have a long way to go.

Harmless Like You

Is the desire to leave genetic?

I may be oversimplifying, but to me, that's the quintessential question in this book. Because he was abandoned by his mother as a child, will a man grow up and abandon his responsibilities, too?

I don't know why, but this is the second book I've read in recent months about an Asian mother who leaves her child behind without a trace. That child is left to grow up wondering - was it his fault? Where did she go? Would he leave his child, too? The previous book, The Leavers, was better than this one in my opinion, but both wove past and present together in a way that draws you in and keeps you reading, knowing you'll find out where the mother went along with the child who searches for her.

We learn the most about the woman who leaves when she is left herself. When her family goes back to Japan, she chooses to stay behind and live the life of an American teenager. She ends up being abandoned in other ways once she stays. It begs the question: to what do you cling when everything else slips away? Or are you better off if you keep moving so nothing else can hurt you? Is leaving a self-fulfilling prophecy?

The questions in this book are big ones, the writing is clean and the characters are understandably human. Still, I didn't love this book. Perhaps it felt too similar to The Leavers and the fact I read this one second made it feel.... second. 

It was critically acclaimed, though, so it's not a waste of time to find out for yourself.

Severance

I'll be honest, I feel a little dumb knowing you're reading this review. I mean, I appreciate it - but, I feel like there are more accomplished book reviewers that you could be reading right now (ones that don't use the term "book reviewers" for example.) It's just that this book hasn't been out for very long and a lot of major media outlets and really smart people have reviewed it in recent weeks. If you stumbled upon my review, know that. And, know that I'll do my best.

I actually ordered this book because I had listened to and read some of those smart people reviews. There was something about this book I was drawn to. I wasn't wrong; it appealed to me on a number of levels and it's coming back in waves a week after I've finished.

Severance is about a young woman at the beginning - and, the middle - of the end. The end of her relationships, the end of her young adulthood and, quite possibly, the end of the world. The daughter of now-dead Chinese immigrants, Candace is trying to make her way in NYC, worn down a bit by the pace of life and trying desperately to make her parents proud. She's so busy doing the "right thing: in life and in work that she seems oblivious to the fact an epidemic is wiping out the world's population. Even as her office closes and the city clears out, she goes on. She goes on, in fact, until it's almost too late.

The novel bounces back and forth between life before the end and life in the midst of it. It has shades of zombies without letting that genre define it. It's a book about family and the expectations on immigrant children, but that genre doesn't define it either. Overall, it's simply a story with strong characters, powerful plot and unexpected developments that keep you engaged.

Someone out there has written a smarter reflection on this, but that's all I want to give you. I want you to experience life the way Candace does, as she continues to strive for higher expectations, even as the world disintegrates around her.

Amateur Hour: Motherhood in Essays and Swear Words

Have we met? If so, you won't be surprised I picked up this book. Motherhood? Essays? Swear words? Call me Fraulein Maria 'cause those are a few of my favorite things!

I actually checked out this book because I literally judged a book by its cover. I was picking up a book about a serial killer at the library and this was next to the holds shelf. It had me at "pink grenade full of hearts." And the stuff about swear words. F-yeah, that got me, too.

What I found inside was a book that had me choking back a sob all the way through. There are stories about motherhood and marriage and why we should visit our grandparents. A story about how sad it is to say goodbye to your kids' elementary school when they move on to the next level. Essays that describe what marriage vows would look like if you wrote them 10 years or so after the wedding. What we think of the "hot chicks" who seem to dominate every phase of life. And, thoughts about how we'll someday miss the chaos and noise of a house full of young kids - even if we find ourselves cursing that chaos now.

This book cracked me wide open.

I haven't read many of them, but I know most books about motherhood can gloss over the madness. They tend to make us feel bad for wondering who we are aside from just breeders and glorified udder holders. This book acknowledges the uncertainties and insecurities, reminding us that feeling uncertain is what motherhood - parenthood - is really about. It's about teaching our kids to fly, then wanting to clip their wings when they do. It's honest and real and it made me wish my kids were newborns and also college seniors.

I loved it. And, whether you have young kids at home or grown kids who forget to call, there's something for you that will remind you of all that is overwhelmingly good - and, overwhelmingly hard - about this stage of life.

Maybe judging a book by its cover isn't so bad after all.

I'll Be Gone in the Dark

So, maybe you shouldn't read this if you sleep like the dead. And, you probably shouldn't read it when you're traveling and sleeping alone in a hotel room by yourself. I did both and lived to tell the tale.

I wish I could go back in time and read this before April. Before the man whose legacy haunted families across California was unmasked. Sadly, I had never heard of Michelle McNamara's book - and her death in the midst of writing it - until after the man was arrested. But, the chain of events that led to that arrest intrigued me enough that I felt compelled enough to read the book.

Michelle McNamara was a true crime writer who became obsessed with this man who stalked couples and singles for years. He was a man who slipped into homes in the dark of night, awakening them in their beds. Some were killed, some raped. In every case, he was careful enough to get away. McNamara's book went deep into the case files as she gained the trust of investigators to retrace his frightening, frustrating steps.

We now know who he was - a one-time police officer who abruptly stopped his crimes and went on to live a seemingly normal life. We know DNA helped solve what once appeared to be unsolvable. But at the time of her writing, he was still a monster without a face. And, while the book (and her life) ends without McNamara discovering the killer's identity, she sets the table for the dessert that would come two years later.

As I mentioned, I read this book when I was away from home, sleeping in a large, dark hotel room in Arizona. It made falling asleep difficult, but more than kept my attention. Was it the best-written book I've ever read? No. And I didn't expect it to be. But, as a reporter, I was enthralled by the meticulous detail she went through in order to lay out a case that spanned years and miles of highway.

The hardest part about reading this book was not stopping to Google details of the case now that the suspected killer is in custody. As soon as I was done, I dove deep into current articles to see if any of the theories about the man held up.

Should you read it? If you enjoy true crime, yes. If you worry about who may be stalking your darkened yards and streets at night, I wouldn't recommend it...

The North Water

To begin, a warning: this ain't no summer read. I may have read it in the summertime, but this isn't the "relax, escape and get away from it all" kind of book. This shit is dark and cold and unforgiving, much like the setting where it takes place. Still, I managed to read it in a single day, which should give you some idea of how rich and compelling it is.

The North Water is the story of a crew of men on a whaling ship in the 1800s. They all have a reason for being there; none of those reasons seems particularly noble. One man, Patrick Sumner, is an Irish surgeon trying to hide from a dubious act was involved in while in the Army. Another man, Henry Drax, seems like the very embodiment of the seven deadly sins. You know from page five or so that this isn't going to be a carefree tale. And the deeper the crew gets into the cold ice floes of the ocean, you realize that with nearly every page turn comes unspeakable horror.

It's hard to recommend this book because of the dark nature of what happens on and off the deck of The Volunteer. But, if you can get through descriptions of the worst of what man can do to one another, you may come through on the other side with a deep appreciate for how Ian McGuire brings this world to life.

If you're seeking relaxation or even redemption from a book, keep looking. But, if you want flawed characters, vidid scenery and page-flipping storylines, grab this book. Though, you may want to wait until winter to crack it open.