I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid

Since giving birth, I've read the last half of Sold On A Monday, the entirety of The People We Hate at the Wedding, and half of This Is Not Over, and yet I managed to read I'm Thinking Of Ending Things by Iain Reid in exactly two days. And those two days involved the older kids being home from school, and the first drop in temperature and snow storm, virtually stranding them inside the house. I first saw this book - where else? - on Instagram, and when I saw it in Target, I bought it for this tagline alone: "You will be scared. But you won't know why." In my ever-evolving reading career, I've grown to appreciate books with little to no description, and I even find myself steering away from books with overly long and complicated synopses. I'm Thinking of Ending Things lives up to its limited description. You will be scared and you won't know why, and then you will feel incredibly uncomfortable.

The book doesn't offer a synopsis, so I won't either, but that might just be an impossible task, anyway. How do you describe a book like this? This book? It's short and to the point even though there are moments when it feels like the story is getting away from you. It is, at times, overly complicated, but in a way that makes you feel creepily disoriented, like you're walking through a maze of mirrors. It is a scary story, but it also offers insight and epiphanies into the complex function of our brains and our minds, and what it means to be human. It's like those dreams where nothing innately scary happens, but you wake up feeling weird and scared, anyway. Between reading this book and watching The Good Place, my mind has been properly fucked with.

I don't usually read scary stories until this time of year, just like I only read beach-reads in the summer, and I am always hoping that what I choose will be scarier than The Shining, even books deemed, "scary as hell," by King, himself. But nothing has measured up to The Shining, not even Pet Sematary, which is scary for an entirely different reason altogether. I'm Thinking of Ending Things definitely keeps you guessing and keeps the pages turning; there is no way you won't want to know the conclusion, until you do, and then you kind of wish you didn't.

In my limited knowledge of triggers, I believe the end of this novel is one. BUT, I can't tell you what the trigger is without spoiling not just the ending, but the entire book as well. The end isn't exactly unexpected, but it is disturbing, and I honestly don't know how I would be able to watch the Netflix movie after having read the book. Well, ok...I am slightly curious...maybe tomorrow as it continues to snow...⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads. CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE $5.00 Like New.                     

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Mercy House by Alena Dillon

A very lovely lady, who said she enjoyed my reviews 😁, messaged me to recommend Mercy House by Alena Dillon, a recently published read that I might have overlooked had it not been for this fellow book-minded individual, even though Amy Schumer praised it as, "...the book we've been waiting for." The story is intriguing and captivating, if not angering, though I wouldn't agree that this is the book we've been waiting for, so much as the book that has existed for thousands of years that we've done a stellar job of ignoring.

In an unassuming row house in Brooklyn, with a most unassuming angel doorknocker, is Mercy House. Run by Catholic nuns, the house offers a safe haven and rehabilitation to women escaping otherwise violent home-lives. In a twist of all-to-real irony, Mercy House, and those like it, are being investigated by the Catholic Church in order to make sure that their activities are in-line with Catholic doctrine, and the Bishop investigating Mercy House just happens to be a man with whom Evelyn - the head nun - shares a dark history. Both in a battle with her own anger and self-inflicted guilt, Evelyn and her ragtag team of nuns and House residents will work to save not only Mercy House, but themselves in this fast-paced, empowering novel that is sure to spark raw emotions and deep discussions.

Mercy House is a difficult story, both in the tales of violence as well as in the learning of it, and Dillon handles the complex issue of abuse with grace and aplomb. Her writing conveys the horrors within the Catholic walls without being overly traumatic in the telling, and she is able to stir just the right amount of emotion, which is ignited even further by her research. Though a fictional tale with fictional characters, Dillon draws upon several real stories, which is, ultimately, the heart-breaker.

I can't say I "enjoyed" this book because it tackles some very unfortunate subject matters, but Dillon tells a remarkable, important story. The only thing, really, that kept me from giving it five stars on Goodreads is that I feel there could have been a broader spectrum of ways in which a person - women - can be abused and victimized by others - men. There is a lot of what we're used to hearing about regarding the underbelly of the Catholic Church, but not really anything different, and, unfortunately, there is more than one way to skin a cat.

Though I am not Catholic - or religious by any measure of the word besides believing in God - Mercy House is surprisingly relatable. It is also very entertaining and empowering and not just to women, but to anyone who has been made to feel like their love and service to others is a sin.

⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads. CLICK HERE TO BUY. $5.00 NEW CONDITION

Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

My need to seasonal read reared it's ugly head again when I snatched Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys from my bookshelf, a book I had bought for cheap at one of the many book sales I manage to find around this small city. About the little-known ship, the Wilhelm Gustloff, and its little-known tragic end, Salt to the Sea is a Young Adult novel for everyone; a must-read of the World War II genre.

In the winter of 1945, the forces of evil - Stalin and Hitler - fought each other, with the innocent civilian bystanders footing the bill. Being squeezed from their countries, hundreds of thousands of refugees made their way to ships that held promises of freedom and an end to the horrors they were previously forced to endure. Florian, Emilia, Alfred, Joana, the Shoe Poet, and the Wandering Boy who suddenly emerges from the forest, are among them, each sharing the one commonality of war: secrets, with a little bit of hope.

The gaining of passage on the Wilhelm Gustloff is dramatic in and of itself, and Sepetys marvelously handles the atrocities of war - WWII in particular - by not over-horrifying events, but not sugar-coating or glossing over them, either; being able to touch at the heart of why war will never bring true peace. She offers many points of view to consider, even though they may not be particularly agreeable, creating the ability to spark constructive discussions about characters and what leads them to make their specific choices. I would love to be a fly on the wall as this book is discussed by a high school English class, or - heck! - even lead a discussion myself.

Salt to the Sea is hefty, both in size and subject matter, but is able to quickly suck you in. It is an exceptionally well-written, beautifully heartbreaking novel that is important to both history and storytelling. I will definitely be reading her other novels.

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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads

Winter in Paradise by Elin Hilderbrand

I never considered myself to be particularly particular when it comes to my habit of seasonal reading. That is, until I started making more of an effort to find winter-related and/or set-in-winter novels to read during...wait for it...winter. As I looked around, it became apparent that while summer seemed to be a character in and of itself, winter was merely something that occurred alongside the story line.

I found Elin Hilderbrand's Winter in Paradise during one of my many trips to the book section of Walmart and - armed with a Christmas gift card burning a hole in my wallet - decided to see if Hilderbrand can be to winter what she is to summer. Given my detest for her Winter Series, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I ultimately enjoyed Winter in Paradise, and how I am actually looking forward to the next in this new series, What Happens in Paradise.

Irene Steele lives a seemingly idyllic life in Iowa City. Her husband adores her to sky-writing proportions, her perfect house has been perfectly designed by her, and her grown sons are off thriving with families, jobs, and hobbies of their own. Then, on New Years Day, her world comes crashing down along with the helicopter that held her husband, Russ, the pilot, and a local woman. Adding confusion to heartbreak, Russ's helicopter crashed in the Virgin Islands, miles from where he was supposed to be. What was he doing there? Who was the local woman, and why was she with Russ that fateful day? Irene and her sons begin to unravel the mystery surrounding their husband and father, while piling on some mysteries and secrets of their own. Hilderbrand's shift from Nantucket summers to St. John's winters takes us on a dramatic, emotional, and cliched journey that is inexplicably intriguing with sharp characters who are surprisingly relatable.

Quickly written, with a plot that sucks you in despite not being anything more extraordinary than your basic Soap Opera, the story is compulsive and voyeuristic, and the imagery is nothing short of exquisite. Winter in Paradise is the perfect read for sitting on the beaches of St. John's yourself, or if you're snuggled up in your snowbound chalet, dreaming of a tropical paradise. Either way, you'll never want to leave.

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⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads

The Whisper Man by Alex North

I usually save scary, or scary-type books, until Halloween time but I am only just slightly aware of the Instagram popularity of The Whisper Man by Alex North (*eye roll*) to snatch up a copy when it became available at my local library. And it's most likely because of this popularity that I read and stuck with the book, as I tend to avoid stories that in any way involve children. But The Whisper Man slowly sucks you in and gets under your skin; it's scary without being gory, and creepy without losing a strong theme of humanity.

Tom and his young son, Jake, move to quiet Featherbank in hopes of moving on after the sudden death of Tom's wife, Rebecca. Unaware of the town's unfortunate history - being home to serial abductor and murderer, Frank Carter - Tom and Jake's supposed fresh start is short lived. Right away, a little boy goes missing, igniting rumors that Carter had an accomplice, and then Jake starts hearing whispers at his window...

This book is definitely scary, and if children are one of your triggers, you might want to really think about if you want to read this story. It is very reminiscent of Stephen King in several ways - the element of alcohol abuse, the struggling writer character, the child who talks to invisible children and uses creepy phrases like, "the boy in the floor," and, most importantly, the delicate weaving of the childhood monsters under our bed and the unfortunate monsters of real life. But what it differs from King is probably what makes is such a great read. Though it is a blunt and often shocking portrayal of the tumultuous relationship between fathers and sons, what is at first scary becomes sweet and sentimental.

The Whisper Man is intense and gripping. It is creepy, mysterious, extremely well-written and intricately plotted, and makes your brain turn as fast as the pages. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.

My Lovely Wife by Samantha Downing

It seems like the only books these days are psychological thrillers and self-help celebrity tell-alls so, if you're like me, it's gotten more challenging to find a domestic noir novel that is interesting, well-told, and offers the requisite surprises. Nothing will shock me like The Burning Air, so I've given up there, and I've gotten to the point where I roll my eyes every time I see an advance praise that includes the words, "fans," "Gone Girl," and, "love," so I was pleasantly surprised when I found that Samantha Downing's My Lovely Wife contains none of these. It isn't the best murder mystery I've ever read, then again none of them are, earning just four out of five stars on Goodreads from your's truly. But I have definitely read worse (*cough* The Couple Next Door *cough*). Dark, disturbing, emotional, and dramatic, My Lovely Wife is an unputdownable book that makes you feel like you know everything, and nothing at all.

Millicent and her husband are the epitome of Middle Class; living in a home they can't afford, paying private school tuition they don't need, and murdering random people simply for the fun of it (like we all haven't thought about it at least once). What started as an act of self-defense, slowly morphs into murder for pleasure and an unlikely bonding exercise for the married parents of two attitude-riddled teenagers. The story is sexy and seductive, and manipulative and twisted, and definitely makes you wonder if all of the new people you've met in the last year were actually trying to decide if you fit a serial killer's victim profile.

I enjoyed the way in which the book is written, appreciating the one perspective of the husband throughout the story, though he sometimes comes off as a bit of a wank. The Owen letters are a bit too cheesy, and make things just a little too easy and cynical. While I agree with Downings portrayal of the information super-highway and the subsequent trial in the court of public opinion, in this day and age especially, we are more prone to suspicion than simply believing what we are told. So while it was an interesting element to the story, it doesn't make the mystery any better or worse. In that regard, the Big Surprise isn't all that shocking, but all of the mini-surprises that prop up the larger one, aided by quick, succinct chapters, are what keep the pages turning. I definitely could not put down My Lovely Wife. ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.

Miracle Creek by Angie Kim

Miracle Creek by Angie Kim is a classic case of what has been drilled into us since we were in 2nd Grade: never judge a book by its cover. Way back then, of course, that was more literal in order to empower new readers to discover more and more things they liked to read so as to never get bored. As we get older, we know that this statement is geared more towards people and who we allow into our lives, but both uses are always equally true: we never really know what a book or a person is about until we open them up and really get to know what's inside. Miracle Creek is a beautifully written, tremendous novel that honors both of these principles; we cannot even begin to predict the story or the depths of these characters but you'll be eager to find out by page two.

Pak and Young are Korean immigrants living in Miracle Creek, Virginia with hopes of their innovative Miracle Submarine creating a better life for their daughter, Mary. A sort-of new, widely unheard of medical treatment in which people sit in a chamber with pure oxygen as a way to repair damaged cells and "cure" whatever ails the body, Pak and Young are slowly starting to achieve mild success when there is a mysterious explosion, killing two patients, and putting a single mother on trial for her child's murder. What is dubbed more than once as a "taut courtroom thriller," is also a tumultuous and dramatic unraveling of lives forever altered by a series of small decisions.

Miracle Creek is an incredible book where Kim expertly weaves medicine and legalities and courtroom procedure into a story that is heartfelt, emotional, and mysterious, drawing on her own legal and Korean background, as well as her own personal experiences with a "miracle submarine" treatment. Her writing is fluid and clear, evoking the intended emotion and imagery, as the story magically unfolds to not only be one of whodunit, but the inherent struggles of immigrants, thinly veiled and blatant racism and judgment, mom-comparing and mom-shaming, and the daily struggles of being a teen, being in a marriage, being a parent, or trying to become one. This book is so many things, all wrapped up in one unassuming package; just like us.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads

No Exit by Taylor Adams

Thanks to social media, we can now instantly recommend books to thousands of people, and - in turn - instantly receive book recommendations for ourselves. The problem is that those thousands of people learning about a book at the same time means finding it available at my library can feel like striking gold. So you can imagine my nerdish excitement at snatching up No Exit by Taylor Adams, a book littering every literary news feed (with at least 13 holds behind me).

This book is, in a word, intense. Every scene bristles with tension, from Darby Thorne's blizzardy drive up a dangerous mountain pass to the final, gut-gripping scene. It is a non-stop thrill-ride in spite of the whole story taking place in a snowed-in rest stop.

Darby is a college sophomore, driving home over Christmas to see her dying mother. Heading up a snowy mountain pass, she is forced to pull off into a rest area that is rapidly getting buried by snow, with four other people and no cell service. But once Darby discovers that there is a fifth person at the rest stop - a little girl locked in a crate in the back of a windowless van - the twists and turns come faster than a tumble down a mountainside but - to Adams' credit - are a lot easier to keep up with.

The best thing about this story is that it seems so obvious where it will go but - with 200 pages to go after the discovery of Jay and who has kidnapped her - the reader really has to wonder what more could possibly be said. In Adams' case, a lot. There are moments of the story where I let out an audible gasp, there are shocks so surprising that I said out-loud, "This book is fucked!" and there are even moments that brought tears to my eyes. The story is a steep switchback, each blind corner that Adams offers up is absolutely brilliant, well-executed, and keeps you engaged in a story that is otherwise pretty horrific.

The writing is perfect, the ingenuity of time-stamping each chapter highlighting just how much every second counts. Remaining true to themselves, each character delivers their roles in a haunting, indelibly human way, and this book, while frightening, heart-stopping, and sometimes gory, makes us realize that - if all the chips were down - we really would have the courage and the capacity to not only save ourselves but to also save someone else.

Buckle up, No Exit is one wild ride that will have you burning through the pages faster than a roaming cell phone burns through battery. And the next time you see a rest area, you might just keep on driving.