Happy Place by Emily Henry

Rarely do I purchase a brand-new book and start reading it immediately, thinking that my other 400-plus to-be-reads will somehow be jealous. But the internet has nothing but good things to say about Emily Henry's latest novel, Happy Place, and I had just cashed in $50 worth of coins, so I decided, why the heck not? A fluffy, heart-warming, story, that's a fun read, but one that I didn't enjoy as much as I do the two new outfits I also purchased with said coins.

Coming-of-age friends, Serena, Perth, Cleo, Kimmy, Wyn, and Harriet are coming together for their yearly trip to Maine for Lobster Fest, only this trip will be their last since Serena's father decided to sell their summer cottage. On top of that, Serena and Perth have decided this to be their wedding weekend, and the icing on this cake is that no one knows that five months prior, Wyn and Harriet decided to call it quits on their seemingly fairy-tale romance, and have yet to tell their closest friends. They'll need to fake it this week, for the sake of their friends, and for the sake of their memories.

Happy Place is a Hallmark movie - the best of friends, on their best behavior, eating the best food, with the best views, where even the conflict isn't even that conflicting -  a since-broken-up couple who clearly still want to be together. A frothy, fun book that epitomizes summer, I would have found Happy Place to be far more relatable had I read it some 20-years ago; I can't relate to the concept of having close, life-long friends, much less having close, life-long friends who I travel with. The book is a bit overly descriptive, sometimes losing track of where I actually was, and the book is quippy, but with way too many one-liners, everything comes off a bit contrived; forced; extra cheese to go with all of their wine. I caught the "twist" way too early, and the ending droned on, a beating of the dead horse of miscommunication and deep insecurities, which is also why I have a hard time relating to these characters; life takes on a new shade when you hit 40 with three kids and a divorce under your belt. But this story did make me fall even more in love with my boyfriend, so there's that. Many people will - and have - enjoyed Happy Place, I'm just not one of them. ⭐⭐⭐/5 on my goodreads.

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

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Crazy Rich Asians, the title of which by Kevin Kwan, poignantly missing punctuation marks, which deftly turns this novel into being about two things: crazy-rich Asians, and crazy, rich, Asians.

Rachel and Nick, happily dating for two years and equally happily ensconced in their New York lives as University professors, are summoned back to Singapore for the wedding of the century of which Nick is the Best Man. Rachel - already understandably nervous to be meeting her boyfriend's entire extended family - is suddenly thrown into the lives of the rich and famous, the opulence of which making American society look like trailer trash, and sometimes bordering on the ridiculous. From the moment their private plane lands, Rachel and Nick both find themselves with targets on their backs as they navigate the complexities of family, wealth, prestige, power, and the ever-tumultuous love.

Not a whole lot happens throughout the book, except for the ending, of course, and the beginning is a bit long-winded. But you'll find yourself drawn to certain characters and their stories, deeming most - if not all - of them extremely unlikable. And the driving force of this novel - the unflinching racism that seems to power most life-altering decisions - is something I find incredibly fascinating; the opening scene an interesting dichotomy between what we inherently find acceptable and what we don't; racism is not ok for outsiders, but appears to be the lifeblood of ancient cultures. But as my trailer trash comment above proves, it's something we all find ourselves doing.

Written with an extremely intelligent air, Crazy Rich Asians is Mean Girls with real estate holdings and ancient Chinese dynasties. It is definitely absurd and dramatic in the way of Soap Operas, but about halfway through, I started looking at my bookshelves and thinking about what I should read next, and I'm not sure I'll ever find myself wanting to read the other two books in this trilogy. I mean, how much more attention do these (yes, I know, fictional) people need? ⭐⭐/5

A Game For All the Family by Sophie Hannah

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A Game For all the Family. What on earth could that even mean, and what could that game possibly entail? Your guess is as good as mine since Sophie Hannah, author of A Game For all the Family, decided to keep that little tidbit to herself, if she even knew it in the first place. Sure, she threw the line out there every once in a while, as good authors do, but never actually tied it in with the story, so now the title is just an awkward mouthful.

Justine is a wife, a mother of one - Ellen - and a former television executive who has just fled her career in favor of doing scandalously Nothing. After only having been in their stately, historically archived home for a few months, Ellen begins to withdraw and Justine starts receiving ominous-turn-threatening phone calls from a woman she doesn't know or recognize, but who is sure that her and Justine share a dangerous, life-threatening secret. This is Justine's game, though what exactly that is, is never actually revealed.

The book starts off sinister enough, with a very intriguing premise that I have never encountered before. The extremely intricate story is very much plot-driven, a mystery wrapped in a riddle where you're given all of the puzzle pieces but haven't the faintest idea of how to put them all together, which usually makes for a very good book. A Game For all the Family will keep you turning the pages, the writing is sharp and clever and witty, it's Where'd You Go, Bernadette meets the game of Clue. But while the premise is unique, it also becomes pretty far-fetched, and the ending - the Big Reveal - manages to be both overly-dramatic - no, unnecessarily dramatic - and a big let-down, and our heroin is the one who ends up looking like the whack-job.

A Game For all the Family. I still don't know what that means. ⭐⭐/5

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman

There are many things that Ove does very well, being a grumpy curmudgeon chief among them. But of all the things that Ove is good at, he is, "quite clearly UTTERLY LOUSY at dying!"

At first sight, Ove is the grumpiest man you'll ever know. Reminiscent of Dwight Schrute, driven by staunch principles and strict routine, he has a mind for motors, but not much for human emotion (though he does seem to grasp the complexities of feline feelings, however). Ove suddenly finds himself without a place in the world, until one November morning when his new neighbors back their trailer over his mailbox. What unfolds is a story that is depressing at its surface, but is actually pure, unadulterated, joy; heart-breaking in its own right, but still a heart-melting love story, not only of Ove and his Motley Crue of new friends, but of everyone acting with a true and genuine heart.

In a word, A Man Called Ove, is brilliant. It is expertly plotted and cleverly detailed, the analogies and metaphors not only spot-on, but also hilarious and witty. The writing is poetic and charming, with seamless transitions to being powerful and emotional, and a hidden beauty that unexpectedly slaps you in the heart; Backman beautifully captures both the hardships and simple joys of what it means to not only be alive, but to live. Your heart will break and be put back together again with every chapter, making you laugh out loud and bringing tears to your eyes, and smiling the entire time.

Ove is, "the strangest superhero I've ever heard about," and reading any book after this would be like trading in a Saab for a Volvo. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 but it should be more.

Verity by Colleen Hoover

 

Like many of you, I don't even know where to begin with this book, unless you're a Goodreads reviewer, in which case, you have a lot to say and most of it consists of, "Are you kidding me?!" Verity, by Colleen Hoover - or CoHo, as she is so lovingly dubbed by her loyal and extensive fan-base - is...a book. Is it a good book? No, I definitely wouldn't call it a "good book." It's a...book...that you will...read. And then you'll go, "Huh." 

Lowen Ashleigh - let's just take in that name for a moment - is a struggling writer with zero money but has just been offered the job of a lifetime: completing the highly popular, and highly successful, series of novels for the now-incapacitated author, Verity Crawford. The only problem - or bonus - is that she will be doing most of her work in the home that Verity shares with her husband, Jeremy, who Lowen quickly develops feelings for (of course). Then Lowen stumbles upon a manuscript, an autobiography that was never meant to be read, and quickly gets sucked into a dark world of sex and manipulation and violence.

This book definitely gets you hooked right from the first sentence, and keeps you hooked so you're able to get through some truly triggering scenes. It's gripping and intense, an undeniable, character-driven, page-turner, with a hint of eroticism that has a tendency to lean towards the ridiculous, and can be kind of foul. Verity is a book you either love or you hate, with an ending that you will either think is genius or too easy, but it's definitely an ending worth reading the book for, a vast contrast from Behind Her Eyes. You will absolutely read to find out if your assumptions about Verity are true, and I spotted a new edition at Target that boasted a Bonus Chapter, so I am very intrigued as to what is in that.

There is one redeeming quality to Verity and that is the writing. It is rough and not at all elegant, and even brutal at times, which only adds to the sinister underbelly of this story. And although Lowen isn't the most popular of characters on Goodreads, I think she is a necessary catalyst to get the reader to form their suspicions. From Verity, I can see how "CoHo" is a true talent, I'm just not sure about this book. I honestly don't know how many stars to give it. Three, I guess? I don't even know.