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.

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.

Behind Her Eyes by Sarah Pinborough

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"That ending!"

"That ending!"

"That ending!"

And my personal favorite, the ever-eloquent: "that ending was fucked up," though I would describe it more as absurd, outlandish, and bullocks, to use in favor of the American version of "complete bullshit." Behind Her Eyes by Sarah Pinborough is like bad sex - interesting and cryptic, but a little confusing at first; a decent enough middle to keep you powering through, but then an ending that is a complete disappointment, leaving you wishing you had just watched 20/20 instead.

Louise is a single-mom and a part-time secretary who, one night, meets a man at a bar. They talk and flirt and spark a connection fueled by alcohol and excitement, only to discover the next day their boss-secretary relationship. Then Louise meets Adele; the beautiful, luminous, mysterious, Adele, wife of The Man from The Bar. And though Louise tries in vain to stay away, she is inexplicably drawn into the lives of David and Adele, and the extremely shaky foundation on which their marriage is built. As Louise peels back the pages of their lives, there are definitely way more questions than answers, and one that you will most undoubtedly have is, "What the fuck am I reading?"

The problem with there being so much hype about the ending is that I found myself reading for the ending, and it didn't help that the story is confusedly cryptic, the dream analysis and whole Second Door business going way over my head. It is sinister and haunting, if only for the choppy way in which it's written, and the transitions aren't at all seamless, which I suppose is the point. The beginning is a bit boring, but once things start to be explained, the pages flip much faster, and then, of course, there is the infamous ending, which you either love or hate. I find it to be a bit of a cop-out; a dumbing-down of an otherwise good story. And, yes, even though it is completely unpredictable and everything a shocking twist should be, it is also the strangest way to explain it all away, and the weirdest ending to a Domestic Noir that I could ever imagine. Now it's pretty much impossible not to read this book for the ending. ⭐⭐/5 on my goodreads.

The Lion's Den by Katherine St. John

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Awhile back, my friend and fellow book-lover asked me to recommend a good thriller, and I had nothin'. The thrillers I had read were mediocre at best, and there was one I couldn't even read at all, so definitely nothing I felt worthy of slapping my recommendation on. Now, allow me to invite you into - or rather, aboard - The Lion's Den, a completely addictive, very clever, novel from Katherine St. John, an author who proves to be a real talent of the thriller genre. You'll down this dazzling debut like free-flowing rose on a hot day, the perfect read for your very un-perfect vacation, or to make you glad you didn't take one at all.

The Lion's Den is In a Dark, Dark Wood meets The Woman in Cabin 10 but with a lot more glitz, glam, and daylight, though the level of intensity and heat is the same. Summer and Belle, friends since childhood, have drifted apart over the last few years as Belle works to forge her acting career, and Summer hones her proclivity for wealthy, older men. But for Summer's birthday, Belle - along with Wendy, Claire, Amethyst, and Summer's mother and sister - has been invited aboard The Lyon's Den, a luxury yacht owned by John, Summer's latest May-December romance. Though Belle has her doubts - things that sound too good to be true usually are - she accepts, and - of course - things aren't at all what they seem and are about to get all kinds of fishy up in this boat.

Written with wit and humor and intelligence, the story is brilliantly plotted, expertly spanning one week of vacation while also covering a decade of early adulthood. So well organized and detailed is this book that the two stories manage to run parallel to each other while also heading straight on a collision course, with a slow build-up in the beginning that lures you into a false sense of thinking you know what to expect. Though the set-up, combined with the synopsis, makes one major twist a bit too obvious, the Devil is still in the details, and is followed by a smattering of twists that you absolutely do not see coming. And the way in which Belle handles these turns and navigates her precarious position is both elegant and fierce, a character to truly appreciate.

The Lion's Den is a taut thriller and an entertaining read that also engages our brains to assemble the puzzle; St. John cleverly hands us all of the pieces, deftly making every last detail invaluable, and it's ultimately very satisfying as they begin clicking into place. These are the authors you want to keep coming back to, and this is definitely a book I would want to recommend to my friend. So, here you go, Franny. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on my goodreads.

Goodnight Beautiful by Aimee Molloy

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Over the last decade, Psychological Thrillers have been the "it" book; ever since - ok I'll say it, but with a hefty eye-roll - Gone Girl hit the bookshelves. Suddenly us readers were addicted to being slightly fooled, the "Unreliable Narrator" was born, and we were trying to decide which author could do it better. For me, however, I tire of the genre kind of easily, all of them beginning to blend together at one point. Enter Goodnight Beautiful by Aimee Molloy, which introduces - or rather supports that of Hidden Bodies - the Unreliable Synopsis. "A handsome psychologist. A lonely wife. And in his home office, a vent in the ceiling. You'd listen, too, wouldn't you?"

Newlyweds Sam and Annie have just moved back to his quiet hometown in order to be near his ailing mother, and hopefully settle in with his private practice, "attending to his (mostly female) clientele." But, unbeknownst to Annie, things aren't going too well for Sam, he's finding this transition harder than he thought and with more obstacles than he anticipated. 

Goodnight Beautiful is a well thought-out, suspenseful and complex novel where Molloy does an excellent job of thinking of everything, though the twists and surprises - and there are plenty! - are slightly jarring and a wee bit confusing. It is an interesting and fascinating twist on stalking and obsession, which makes the characters' choices all the more intriguing.

Molloy definitely takes full advantage of the Unreliable Narrator, taking cues from Erin Kelly's The Burning Air before abruptly sending us into Stephen King territory, and I mean that literally. It feels as though Molloy had just read The Burning Air and Misery and smashed them together, suddenly I was in the only part of Stephen King's Misery that I could get through. Molloy obviously channeled King, but she did it better, taking on only a small portion of the physical exhaustion and alcoholism that come with his books, but having the appropriate amount of cheap psychotherapy.

The ending is not at all what I was expecting, which was a pleasant surprise. Goodnight Beautiful is a Psychological Thriller with heart. I read it in two days, you probably could too. ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on my goodreads profile.

Good Me Bad Me by Ali Land

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We often wonder how much of ourselves is the direct result of where we come from; what is predetermined by what is running through our veins, and what is the result of our surrounding environment. And it's often an inconclusive venture to discern nature vs nurture when determining why someone did or didn't do something, and no one understands this more than Milly Barnes, facing her daily struggles of Good Me Bad Me. Daughter to a serial killer, the one and only witness to her mother's crimes, and the one to turn her into the police, she is placed in an affluent foster home and enrolled in private school. But as her mother's trial approaches, Milly is constantly faced with a choice: which wolf to feed? 

Good Me Bad Me is a thrilling twist on the age-old question, how far does the apple fall from the tree? Is that something we can even control, and to what extent? Milly and everyone in her world are about to find out.

Hers is a story unlike any other. Hauntingly and disturbingly seductive, it definitely highlights a horrific twist on an all-too-common crime. Good Me Bad Me is unsettling yet captivating and will crawl under your skin and suck you even though you may not want it to. It is brutal and unforgiving, the skillfully disembodied prose giving the story structure and depth and texture, with odd moments of humanity and tenderness, if any exists in such a terrifying scenario. Land - by way of Milly - leaves no stone unturned, and although there isn't the proverbial climactic twist at the end, the book positively drips with suspense. I read it in two days and I suspect you might too. ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on my goodreads profile.

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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.

A Simple Favor by Darcey Bell

I seem to be coming across more and more reviews on Goodreads that I find particularly confusing or...inaccurate, for lack of a better word. I don't usually read the reviews in order to determine if I will read a book or not, mainly because people like to play it fast and loose with the details. But once I am done with a book, I'll peruse the reviews out of curiosity, and those of Darcey Bell's A Simple Favor - yes, the very same as the movie starring Blake Lively and Anna Kendrick - are some I didn't agree with, but not because I feel like A Simple Favor is some kind of literary masterpiece.

One review in particular that shows up first says that Bell is lucky to have her "contrived," "stinker of a novel," purchased for the movie rights, when the very first thing that I thought was, I know exactly why this book was purchased for the movie rights.

Stephanie is an isolated Stay-at-Home Mommy-blogger (not unlike myself) who suddenly finds herself immersed in her best friend, Emily's, life once Emily goes unexpectedly missing. What is artificial on the surface - the juvenile writing, the blatant ineptitude of the would-be protagonist (if one actually exists in this story, and I don't think one does), and the story as old as time - actually speaks to more complex themes and explores different ideas, and *that* is why I think it was snatched up to be made into a movie, and why the multi-faceted talents of Kendrick and Lively were picked to play the main characters.

The foundation of the book, that everyone has secrets, is the stable ship that carries some very unstable people. And where other Domestic Noir novels work extra hard for character empathy and elaborate reasons for unreasonable actions, A Simple Favor simply tells the story of best friends behaving badly. And in direct contrast to my usual complaints that every mystery thriller is compared to Gone Girl, I am going to go ahead and compare it to Gone Girl in that it is exactly like Gone Girl if Gone Girl was about two female best friends instead of a husband and wife; and, just like Gone Girl, everyone deserves each other.

Also on the surface is the cheesy, over-used theme showcasing the underbelly of misrepresenting ourselves online. Stephanie is an insipid character who is subtly narcissistic and manipulates the tragedy of others to gain validation from online strangers. She is that special kind of willful ignorance who avoids the truth in favor of feeding her own ego and self-interests, though she tries (unsuccessfully) to be remorseful for her ideas and behaviors.

Unlike Stephanie, Emily makes no attempt to veil her unfavorable thoughts or actions, which speaks to present day real life in that most of us do things that we know are wrong simply because we want to do them. In reading this book, I found that I have more empathy for these women than I did in any of the other domestic thrillers I have read *because* there is no special, overly-detailed, vengeful reason for why they do what they do. And it certainly isn't as a result of some dumb male acting dumb. This book makes the movie unlike any other - where the men sit back and enjoy the ride. I find that, currently, nothing is more relatable than these two characters.

This certainly isn't the best book I have ever read, which is why I gave it three out of five stars on Goodreads, but I feel the need to defend it to a certain extent. I would enjoy seeing the movie, I'm curious to see these characters acted out on screen, and if - also like Gone Girl - the intentions of the characters remain the same. This book is definitely a page-turner, but not one to read if you need to like any of the characters; you will definitely not like any of these characters.  

Lie To Me by J.T. Ellison

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS

I don't like to write reviews of books that contains spoilers because, like people, I think each reader should draw their own judgments about a particular book. And while I found myself enjoying Lie to Me by J.T. Ellison as I read it, once I turned the final page, I realized that there was no way to articulate my problems with this book without including spoilers, which was only further supported by reading the Author's Note. In it she writes, "I stretched my wings in completely new ways," and speaking as someone who has never published a novel, it is my opinion that Lie to Me flew from the nest entirely too soon on wings made of Swiss cheese.

To start, in Ellison's Author's Note, she paints a stunning portrait of a writer sitting in Paris with "page after page of notes on the idea of a woman obsessed by a stranger's murder, and how her life derails when she can't leave it alone." I agree, this would make a tremendous novel, but it is decidedly *not* what Lie to Me is about. Calling it Domestic Noir - which is also not true - "at it's best" - also not true - Lie to Me is the story of a marriage from a hell of their own making. 

Ethan and Sutton are what we illustrate as a "perfect couple" these days: large, renovated house; successful careers as mild celebrity authors; stunning good looks. But this wouldn't be a story if all of those things were true so, naturally, the marriage is crumbling, the house payments are tights, and the careers are struggling. What appears to be a wife who has simply had enough and flees a loveless marriage quickly turns suspicious and, as Officer Graham points out, is like trying to put a puzzle together using pieces from several different boxes. In that way, Ellison is on track. The book is deeply mysterious, troubling, and a certifiable page-turner. It has all of the appropriate players doing their appropriate things and all of them flawed in their appropriate ways. But the twists and turns seem to be for appearances sake, the one chapter detailing the past relationships of Sutton and Ethan by the mysterious narrator is completely useless and merely provides an arbitrary distraction. I'm not a fan of blatantly misleading the reader in place of subtle manipulation.

Ellison sets up the story like every other Domestic Noir anyone has ever read, but as soon as the major plot twist is revealed - which itself isn't that much of a surprise - the story is completely abandoned. The death of the baby was the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, for a woman who supposedly had good reason, and evidence, to be afraid of her husband. But as soon as it was revealed that he didn't, in fact, kill the baby, Sutton rushes back into his waiting arms and suddenly the story morphs into a Nora Roberts tale of a wife who simply wanted a break from her life. Seriously, there is actually a moment when Sutton claims she just wanted a break from her life then suddenly desperately wants it all back. Fine. So then what about all the past abuse? What about the blood stain on the marble? What about the bruises on her arm? What about all of the reasons she confided in her best friend? Sure, everything was orchestrated by an outside force, but no one manipulated Ethan into smacking around his wife. And, yes, Ethan was almost brutally murdered, which might make any wife reconsider her feelings for her estranged husband, but leaping into his previously abusive arms? I don't buy it. Again, it's as if the entire story prior to Sutton's arrest in Paris had never existed.

Finally, in an attempt at suspense and romance, the ending is contrived and boring and just plain cheesy. It is also completely without reason, like Ellison jammed all of the puzzle pieces together then - ta da! - declared a masterpiece. There are so many twists and turns and loose ends and forgotten characters and peetered-out plots, Lie to Me is a poor-man's Gone Girl. But in spite of my issues, it is very well-written, though the Chapter titles are a bit too obscure, and I enjoyed the addition of the book reviewer, book blogger, and the tortures that can be unearthed when writing. In that regard, it did inspire me and sparked an idea that I might have a devilish time exploring. But, in general, this book is not worth the effort. Just read Gone Girl instead.

Ghosted by Rosie Walsh

No doubt the Russian bots over in Europe are well-versed in my constantly-touted Top Five Fave List, because it is so coveted and all, and due to my tremendous pull in the literary world. 🙄 But I have decided to permanently name it the Phenomenal Phive, and it exists only in my mind. Rather than being an ever-rotating tabulation, I envision my list like slots waiting to be filled. And although I read, on average, 30 books a year, and I award a lot of five stars on Goodreads for the simple fact that I am able to appreciate most everything I read, only a handful of books have ever really given me all the feels; and that is what makes a phenomenal book. Ghosted by Rosie Walsh is, in a word, phenomenal. Fortunately, I have a lot of other words to use to describe this incredible, beautifully-crafted story with multi-layered, heart-breakingly complicated characters. Where Heart's Invisible Furies fell flat in the drama of missed opportunities; and reminiscent of what made The Woman in the Window utterly heartbreaking, Ghosted absolutely shines and takes its rightful place among phenomenal books.

Sarah Mackey is a trans-Atlantic mover-and-shaker who has convinced herself that she is happy. A chance meeting on a particularly challenging day and suddenly Sarah is certain her happiness lies in Eddie David, a large, handsome, charming man tending to a stray sheep. After a whirlwind week together, they part ways and he says he'll call. Only he doesn't. And seems to disappear altogether. But Sarah is convinced it is more than just a simple change of mind. What follows is a heart-twisting tale packed with romance, mystery, drama, heartbreak, love, loyalty, desire, and betrayal set against a backdrop of beautifully-engineered imagery. The writing is exquisite, packed with such standard, though powerful, details that give the book wings, and sparkle, and flavor, and to read it is to feel like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Ghosted made my heart race, made me yearn for the unanswered questions, made me laugh out loud, and moved me to tears. This is an extraordinary book that is - according to the Goodreads reviews - not given its proper due, which is truly unfortunate. The basic premise - the infamous guy who never calls - is so much deeper and more poignant that what the book jacket suggests, which is perhaps why this book does not meet certain readers' expectations. But, wow. Just, wow. This book is absolutely stunning and is one of those I wish I could give a million stars to.

But with every book I find absolutely phenomenal, there are reviews of it that I absolutely do not understand. Case in point, the reviews of All the Ugly and Wonderful Things truly make me angry. Some reviewers thought Ghosted to be, "blah," but this book is a wonderful example of the importance of reading every single word; the "Eddie" section alone is pure romantic torture. I hope people read this book and see the life in it; see the joy and sorrow that is burdened on every person who walks this earth, and how some feel that their mere existence is a cause for pain. And I hope people read this book and see the power, and love, and new life that can suddenly be sprung on us at any moment. This is definitely a book that could be read in a weekend and you might need a handkerchief come the final chapter. But, wow, is it a tremendous book and I happily award it a slot on the Phenomenal Phive.

An Unwanted Guest by Shari Lapena

Page 254 - I have no idea who the killer is and why they're doing the killing.

Page 256 - I know who the killer is.

Page 260 - Wait, the killer might be someone else.

*Takes a shower instead of reading the final pages in order to stew over what I thought I knew, the details I thought I remembered and thought were important, and make connections that I thought were there.*

Page 270 - Ok, now I know who the killer is but I don't know why.

An Unwanted Guest by Shari Lapena is a modern-day game of Clue with a handful of complicated characters who share a common goal one snowy weekend in the Catskills: to have a peaceful, relaxing, luxurious weekend. But just as their weekend gets started, their common goal evolves into simply staying alive.

The story unravels much like it would if it had happened in real life. When one person winds up dead, it appears to be an accident, but each new detail that unfolds can either be easily explained away, or is part of something far more sinister. Each character has a reason, an opportunity, and a personality trait that would make them a killer, either in a crime of passion or premeditation. And each guest has a secret to keep and judgments to make through the lens of those secrets. It is truly brilliant how Lapena can bring together characters who don't know each other yet are still affected in some way by their own separate baggage.

An Unwanted Guest is a clever mystery with a subtle build where nothing is overtly obvious. It is well and efficiently written, though I am not a fan of the particular style; I don't appreciate three-word sentences, it makes me feel like I'm reading my grocery list. The book is light on imagery, but that's probably because most of it takes place in a hotel during an ice storm with the power out. There is no real investment in the characters, but the focus of the story is on the whodunnit and why. Like playing Clue, we don't care about who the characters are, we just want to solve the mystery before anyone else, so in that regard, I enjoyed the story and it was well-crafted.

I enjoyed this book more than Lapena's other, The Couple Next Door, which ended in a similar fashion to An Unwanted Guest. I'm not sure why Lapena does this; does she just put the pen down and decide to stop writing, or is it to leave room for sequels? Because in either book, a good extra page or two of explanation would be sufficient.

This is a book you will read in a weekend, aided by the fact that the entirety of the book takes place over a weekend. It is a chilling murder-mystery, perfect for reading under a thick blanket by the fire, particularly as the weather gets more blustery. And if you read this and The Shining, you probably won't be checking into any remote hotels any time soon...

In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex

Book after book, genre after genre, century after century, tales of animals seemingly "turning against" man is considered unfathomable; at once scary, un-Godly, un-natural, and - to us - completely unprovoked. Take the year 2012 in which James Patterson's Zoo was published. A relentlessly stupid, over-dramatic story so obviously written to appease the warped minds of TV producers and directors that the point of the story was completely lost: humans are not just mere spectators in this melting pot of ecosystems.

Almost 200 years earlier, the disaster of the whaling ship The Essex follows a similar pattern and familiar theme; both books - one fiction, one non - leaves us with the ever-burning question of if and when animals will finally turn against man for real.

While Nathaniel Philbrick doesn't outwardly explore this particular theme in In the Heart of the Sea, choosing instead to focus ,,more on the intricacies of nineteenth century sailing and whaling more than anything else, it can't be ignored by the avid reader, especially since most of the whaling industry was fueled by ego, machismo, and the supposed ultimate dominion over the world. Philbrick expertly articulates this idea in his book, but perhaps a little too well.

In shockingly few pages, Philbrick relays a sea of information that is at times helpful but mostly confusing, speaking as if the reader already has a working knowledge of Northeastern shipping, whaling, and societal culture. He, however, does an admiral job of linking information he previously mentioned to what is currently happening in the story, and any conflicting accounts and fictional tales; Moby Dick makes several appearances as a point of reference and almost as proof to his tale.

Aside from what those of us who have never been whaling find confusing, In the Heart of the Sea is a captivating story of the lengths people go to to line their pockets.

While the book does make central the animalistic instinct of survival, it's hard to miss the underlying point that man wouldn't find themselves seeking revenge on giant whales (both metaphorical and literal) had they not put themselves in those very positions in the first place; and for little else than a chance at a paycheck. And although seeking wealth is taboo among many major religions, Philbrick subtly points out through his story that our interest in defeating nature as a means to wealth perhaps stems from our need for spiritual guidance, with many sects preaching man's superiority and rule over Earth as a right and truth. Such is the case here in regards to the Quakerism practiced among many a whaler. And oftentimes as a result of oppression in the name of this religion, ego and suppressed rage took over in an almost sub-human form. Given that, it's hard to come away from the book viewing these whalers as anything resembling heroes, especially as Philbrick dissected the always-taboo subject of cannibalism.

Although not the first documented case of the practice, and certainly not the last, Philbrick carefully, if not a tad gruesomely, attacks the issue of cannibalism by highlighting that eating one's fellow human does little to alleviate death or even hunger, especially in terms of the mind. Philbrick points out that fear of cannibals is what kept the survivors from uncharted islands, contributing to their almost pointless and futile drift around the Pacific Ocean, but doesn't go so far as to point out the hypocrisy of their decision to eat human flesh, skirting the issue by focusing instead on their struggle with the mere idea then ultimate execution.

But all of that aside, In the Heart of the Sea serves little as a warning and more just adds to the depths of whaling lore. Known as the "Titanic of it's day," the very idea that a Titanic II is well under way proves we have learned nothing. Philbrick's story of a time centuries before - and Patterson's tale of a time centuries later - proves we never will.

Fierce Kingdom by Gin Phillips

I try not to pull the Mother Card; the, "only a mother would understand," half-insult to everyone who hasn't pushed a kid out of their body, or adopted one as soon they were. I parent like they did in the '80's - I don't know what they're doing and they don't know what I'm doing. But reading Fierce Kingdom by Gin Phillips tugged at a very specific part of my heart, the part that was suddenly ignited after having, and taking care of, my own kids. While this novel will no doubt have a profound affect on most anyone who reads it, a mother can take this novel to another, heart-wrenching level. I would love to lead a discussion group comprised of both moms and non-moms to dissect the depths of this book.

A fast-paced, breathless novel, Fierce Kingdom begins as the zoo is closing and Joan and her 4-year old son, Lincoln, are rushing to the exit. As he picks up his toy action figures, a tragedy begins - and continues to unfold - unbeknownst to them and a few other zoo stragglers. Creating a world in which the desolate zoo is creepy in and of itself, Phillips is able to implore that while being accidentally locked in with the scraggly animals isn't ideal, it's about to become downright dangerous. The next three hours - the entirety of the novel - is a gripping, suspenseful game of cat-and-mouse that has become all too commonplace in today's world.

Well-written in a halting, concise manner, Phillips creates a vivid world within in the zoo, where the outside world, and the Who's and Why's don't matter. However, the imagery is a bit too much and I found myself either zoning out or getting confused, and important details seem to pop out of nowhere, causing me to re-read several pages, or have to flip back. What Phillips does expertly, though, is create a character in Joan that is Mother; playing on the natural empathy of humans in general and the savage empathy of mothers in particular. There is not a mother alive who wouldn't ask themselves, "what would I have done?" without also completely understanding the steps Joan takes; the trash can scene in particular is a genius indicator of where we land on the Nuclear Family timeline.

A page-turner at its best, this is a quick, though emotionally savage, novel that made me cling to my three-and-a-half-year old son - and oddly enough - want to visit the zoo, because - as Susanna Daniel expertly observes - we live "in a world teeming with pressing domestic details along with unpredictable violence." A brilliant gut-punch of a read.

The Dollhouse by Fiona Davis

As many a bookworm can attest, naming your favorite book can be almost as complicated and emotional as naming your favorite child. But without warning, Fiona Davis' The Dollhouse rapidly ascends to one of the coveted top spots.

I'll be honest, The Dollhouse was a book I passed on many times over when I saw it at the library, breaking the cardinal rule of reading: judging a book by it's cover. Then a fellow Instragrammer and bibliophile raved about it so my next trip to the library felt like I had hit the jackpot. I wasn't sure what to expect from the book, but I certainly didn't expect it to grab me by my glove-less hand and transport me to a world of propriety, glitz, glam, and gumption. And that I'd never want to leave.

Unlike Donoghue's The Wonder, Davis doesn't utilize any specific writing style to separate her book from any others, but she creates vivid, empathetic characters who we can't decide if we want to be best friends with, or just be period. Darby, Rose, and the gang are so magnetic and charming, the mystery of the plot - which serves to prop up the storyline - is quickly lost to simply wanting to know more about the characters and their lives; like FRIENDS but with more drug rings and alcohol, and less coffee houses and sarcastic one-liners. A story I didn't want to end, I was completely enveloped in the energetic atmosphere, enchanting setting, and the engrossing, expertly intertwining tale.

Written in alternating chapters, which could have muddied the story, Davis ingeniously infuses her tale with blatant label-feminism, and highlights the almost anti-feminist fact that we humans need each other, from the basic food-and-water necessities, to the complexities of navigating a hotel for women in New York City, both in the 1950's and in present-day. Davis expertly tells of what it meant to need a man back then and what it meant to NOT need a man, as well as what it means to need a man in present-day, and how those issues are strikingly different but also shockingly similar. Davis even throws in some sexual identity issues just to make the melting pot even spicier. The elements Davis includes in The Dollhouse are brilliant, from the basic plot backbone, all the way down to the details of a simple spec of spice.

Written in a to-the-point, almost blog-ish way, Davis appropriately and concisely wraps up any loose ends in such a way that is sympathetic to the complex characters, yet isn't stymied by some horrific, just-for-the-sake-of-drama tragedy that would sully the actors or setting. So while the mystery added a fragrant twist, the spicy characters and the peppery plot were able to stand on their own. As an avid bookworm, I'm excited to see what Fiona Davis comes up with next...

The Heart You Need by Diane R. Jewkes

It's hard to believe that during my thus far lustrous reading career that I could encounter anymore "firsts" when it comes to books. But alas, I have; and for a few different reasons. First, The Heart You Need by Diane R. Jewkes was my first foray into e-reading. Second - and perhaps even harder to believe - Jewkes' foray into Historical Romance was my first of this particular genre, which was coupled with yet another first - being approached and asked to read this specific book in exchange for an honest review. So while Historical Romance with a Sensual classification isn't a section of the library I will find myself in very often, Jewkes, with her multifaceted characters, intriguing story lines, and impeccable research, just might have me going back.

Set against the backdrop of San Francisco on the cusp of becoming one of the world's most formidable cities, we meet Adeline - Linnie - who is a formidable woman in her own right. Using her job as a Society columnist, Linnie repeatedly straddles the boundaries between proper decorum and family loyalty, but not without the help of new companions, Alec, Kara, and Hawke. In her characters, Jewkes expertly crafts a cast who are both likable and relatable, but also highly emotionally-charged, while managing to avoid being overly dramatic. With exquisite, clear imagery, Romantic prose, and artful metaphors, Jewkes pays homage not only to the budding romance of Linnie and Alec, but also to the beauty of the budding West.

Alec, thanks to the talents of Ms. Jewkes, is a splendid character who is not only strong, stubborn, and sometimes boorish, but skillfully sexual and ruggedly romantic. On business from Scotland, he meets Linnie in the most obscure way and soon finds himself enraptured by her penchant for moving a mile a minute; one moment she's there, then another she's gone, at least until she's wrapped in Alec's broad arms. But while we can appreciate this particular facet of Linnie, the execution and transfer of the scenes can sometimes be a bit rocky and sudden. Nevertheless, Jewkes employs her charismatic characters to steer the story into very intriguing places.

As a storyteller, Jewkes is an exceptional writer, creating clear, concise plot movement, and her meticulous use of metaphors is on point. Her sex scenes are cigarette worthy, and she expertly gives us a twist in the story without waxing poetic or using unnecessary filler. Reminiscent of a Hallmark Channel movie or mini-series, The Heart You Need provides just enough danger and violence to keep you turning the page, but not so much so that you can't read the book late at night. However, while Jewkes skillfully and appropriately ties up the loose ends, one pivotal plot point remains unanswered, which - given that this is her second novel in what I can only assume will be a lustrous literary career - may pave the way for a companion novel or sequel. Jewkes skilled linkage of each character and story - a la Thomas Kinkade - can only lead to more novels starring this magnetic cast.

All in all, I couldn't have chosen a better novel to steal my e-reading virginity than The Heart You Need. Well thought-out, exceptionally researched, and exquisitely emotional, Jewkes' talent can only get better from here. When she eventually stands with Nora Roberts, Danielle Steel, and Stella Cameron, I can say I knew her when...

The Burning Air by Erin Kelly

Every once in awhile I find myself in the mood for a good mind fuck. Usually when I'm in a particularly dark mood, I find myself gravitating towards books of a similar theme, like when I picked up Gillian Flynn's Dark Places. Although I felt the pull of that in the dead of January, I found myself craving a Gone Girl-esque book in the dead of summer so I picked up Erin Kelly's The Burning Air, a book I took a chance on because it was on the Dollar Tree bookshelf so I couldn't justify *not* buying it. After reading the inside flap and the goodreads.com synopsis, my expectations were fairly low and I thought I had it all figured out, not at all prepared for Kelly to take me on the literary ride of my life.

Kelly's The Burning Air is in a word, brilliant. Having read Gone Girl, the epitome of psychological thriller, and having polished off last summer's literary pop culture hit, and soon-to-be-movie-produced-by-Reese-Witherspoon, The Girl on the Train, I naively had little hope that another author would be able to weave such an intricate, creepy, and dark tale about the lengths we go to for family. But I am now willing to start my own campaign to add this to Reese's long list of projects. Or at least make it a Lifetime movie.

Split into four points of view, Kelly subjects the reader to movie-like, heart-pumping, surprise scenes - like a white face reflected through a black window - from the get-go. Banking on the already large creep-factor of being set in a BFE London barn, readers start out on the edge of their seats and have little elsewhere to go until they take a break from reading to let their hearts begin to still. With any large family, secrets are what rule the MacBrides, who are coming together to spread the ashes of their matriarch. Of course, things go less than smoothly and what are originally perceived to be horrible coincidences are revealed as dark, vengeful spirits working like puppet masters behind the scenes.

Written clearly and concisely, with fluid details that are rarely confusing, Kelly creates a haunting and sinister world that gives us goosebumps and makes our blood run cold, but manages to steer clear of horrifically gruesomely, unnecessary violence. The Burning Air enters Kelly into the foray of stiff competition among Stephen King and other Masters of the Plot Twist, gently manipulating readers' brains and down-right tricking them, then offering one last surprise on the second-to-final page.

While Far Barn is definitely not a place I'd like to visit - nor the MacBrides a family I'd like to befriend - this Couch Explorer will definitely visit another dark world created by Erin Kelly.

Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin

Your first thought upon cracking open this biographical work is, "Wow, I can't believe this was written in 1959! This could be about [insert current year here]!" I mean, after your actual initial thought of, "I'm reading a piece of culturally significant material that enlightens me to the world beyond my own backyard, go me!"

But as the story develops, cultural implications give way to a bland overview of 1960's Deep South racism, spectral division, and a sense of hatred that would be powerful and life-altering had the story execution been even remotely interesting.

What would have ordinarily been a rather quick read ended up dragging on slower than the buses that begrudgingly carted Mr. Griffin around Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, and the like. Distantly telling of the obstacles he encountered after altering his white skin to become black - colored bathrooms miles away from convenient, denied cups of coffee or glasses of water, looks of disgust from obvious strangers - Mr. Griffin spoke more of the general segregation and corresponding consequences of blacks - oftentimes horrific - than of his own, often horrific, experiences. And although they were shocking in nature, Griffins' portrayal of them was distant, vague, and lacked the sort of intensity one would expect from a white man going from his seemingly privileged existence to the suppressed, harsh life of a 1960's Negro man; especially coming from his own personal journal.

Afforded the luxury of being able to switch from black to white skin, Griffin instead wasted it by describing his experiences is generic prose, as if he were standing outside a window looking in. Constructed as his personal journal throughout his seven-week experiment, his freedom to paint a more specific picture of 1960's racial injustice was supremely wasted, though he was still subjected to his own brand of racism once the experiment was made public. Not until the epilogue, which I almost didn't read, did Mr. Griffin delve deep into what his experiment revealed, why, and any possible moves toward national harmony, though he stopped short of making any actual suggestions.

Obviously this work was culturally significant in it's 1960's publication, and is still relevant today, which is both sad and promising. Sad because we're dealing with the same issues as a nation over 50-year later, and promising because although racial harmony alludes us, and springs up in new, ugly ways, our ability to recognize the problem of judging someone based on skin color alone is what separates us from the animals. But, if we're being honest, animals have us beat in this area; I've never seen a dog attack another dog simply for being black.