The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

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Books are like boyfriends: every once in awhile you stumble across one that you wouldn't change anything about, in the places that you'd least expect. I found The Midnight Library by Matt Haig at the airport while in search of coffee for my mid-morning flight. Standing in line, I noticed a small, unattended, stack of books and upon closer inspection, noticed a Post It note on the top that declared "Free books!" Not only did I greatly appreciate this as a book-lover, but I took it as an excellent sign as a would-be traveler. Already weighed down by two other books, and not wanting to be selfish, I took only the one, and was instantly enthralled by the end of the first chapter. The Midnight Library is truly mesmerizing.

"Between life and death, there is the Midnight Library..." and suddenly Nora Seed finds herself there. She is an Everywoman, weighted down by the small - though many - disappointments in life: a confrontational encounter, the loss of a pet, an unfulfilling job and stalled career path, wandering through the world of what-ifs. Filled with regret, remorse, and heavying sadness, Nora - in the Midnight Library, and with the help of an old friend - finds herself able to undo these regrets; the chance to make different choices and try on - so-to-speak - the varying consequences. With cleverly witty writing, truly genuine characters, and imagery reminiscent of Harry Potter, I literally loved every page. It is one of those rare books in which you can't wait to power through it, but you also never want it to end, and I would love to see The Midnight Library on the big, or medium-sized, screen.

This book is pure magic, in the most brilliant of ways. What is at once a hypothesis of life and death is also very much a testament to what it means to truly live, with explanations for the magical that are purely scientific; impressive, though easily understandable by those of us who cheated in Physics class, and buoyed by an honest ebb and flow of emotions, like bobbing through the ocean of ideas, at times sad and lonely, at others funny and lighthearted, and sometimes incredibly intense. Ahh, such is life.

I wholeheartedly recommend this book to anyone who has recently lost a loved one, specifically by way of their own doing. But, regardless, the takeaways from this book are plentiful and deeply personal; everyone will have something different that they can glean from this story that not only spans time but universes. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5.

Lucky You by Erika Carter

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If you did not read Lucky You by Erika Carter, nor did you select it as part of your Book of the Month Club box, of which it was selected in January 2017, then lucky you.

I've managed to read about three Book of the Month Club picks over the years, mainly due to finding them at second-hand book stores, and they have all been very strange; like the Book Pickers are trying to prove to the world their maudlin intellect. Well Carter's debut novel, Lucky You, is not only a waste of a BOTM selection, but a waste of paper and a waste of time.

Rachel, Ellie, and Chloe are frenemies, each stuck in their own cycles of self-destruction; you know the drill: sex, bad relationships, too much booze. Then Rachel up and moves deep into the Ozark mountains with a man who is sure that he can change the world by learning, and writing about, and thus teaching, how to live off-grid and on the land. Ellie and Chloe are eventually convinced to join the couple at their remote house and work on The Project. What is an otherwise interesting and intriguing concept, not only fell short but will live forever in my mind as one of the worst books I've ever read. Not only do these insipid characters with a proclivity for claiming Chinese proverbs as their own, not "solve the conundrum of being alive," they struggle with getting their would-be cult off the ground in favor of depressive loafing.

The writing is slow and dispiriting, and grey and frigid, despite writing scenes that supposedly take place in intense heat. "She had to pee. Then she flushed," is the sort of riveting storyline that you can expect from this droll, much more lame, non-serial-killer, version of Emma Cline's The Girls. Lucky You is one big bad mood that is so nicely summed up by one paragraph: "they traded turns talking in stream of conscious monologues. After a while, they weren't even listening to each other, it was more about just filling the air with the comfortable lilts and turns of story." Lucky You is like reading Carter's disoriented, rough-draft of her own personal journal. There is no real point, prompting me to wonder, Why am I reading this book? Many books of this similar genre are bound to be far better, can I even give this one star?