Beartown by Fredrik Backman

Set in late March (I'm an avid seasonal reader); takes place in a remote mountain town (of Sweden, though that is never mentioned directly, and, given the imagery, could very well take place in Alaska); the name of that town being Beartown; the story revolving around a hockey team; Beartown by Fredrik Backman could have been called This Book Was Written For You, Breanne! Unfortunately, those basic characteristics are where my affection for this book take a sharp turn.

Backman's novel included, I have only ever read two books where rape is the eye of the storm and everything around it spins out of control. This might be hard to believe from someone who reads approximately 30 books a year, but I am extremely sensitive to triggers so I go out of my way to avoid them. As a woman, and as a woman who was raised with a certain code of values and responsibilities, I find these particular stories about rape frustrating. It was especially disconcerting - and sometimes encouraging - that I forgot Beartown isn't in the United States, proving that extremely unfortunate ethics and so-called morals transcend cultures.

Beartown is on the brink of extinction. Business are closing up shop, council members see little reason to invest, and there is even talk of moving the school to the next town over. All the hopes of Beartown - big and small - rest on the shoulders of Beartown Ice Hockey, a group of teenage boys who moved up the local ranks to once and for all have a shot at winning the finals. Treated like heroes and worshiped like gods, a teen girl is raped and everything and every one spirals out of control.

Coincidentally, along with being only the second rape-centered book I've ever read, Beartown is also the second sports drama I've ever continuously rolled my eyes through, and lets just say, I'm not a fan. Beartown is written considerably better than Blind Your Ponies, but the drama is just as contrived, and the level of cheese requires just as much wine. Is there really that much cheese behind those locker room doors, or do writers just *think* there is really that much cheese behind those locker room doors? And aside from the manufacturing, the cheesy drama is extremely redundant, and alternates between the reader being in the center of it all to the reader having to squint through a dirt encrusted window. I will say, however, that even though there are just so many words, Backman manages to arrange them in a pleasing, thoughtful manner.

Sifting through the fromage is only tolerable because as focus on the game starts to fade, the crevasses in the characters become crystal clear, and suddenly navigating their truly unfortunate choices is all we are able to focus on. Backman's characters are to have us believe that to err is to be human, though there is not one character in this book that has more than one redeeming quality. Each character makes frustratingly frightening decisions while Backman tries to explain them away with the shedding of silent tears; as if to be human is to selfishly destroy others. I did not find one character to be even remotely likable. Well, except maybe the bass player.

From what I understand of the reviews, this story is a diversion from Backman's usual writings. This being my first of his novels, I find this encouraging as I still have A Man Called Ove on my unread shelf and now I am more inclined to read it. I have no desire to continue reading about these particular characters, though, so I will opt out of reading the sequel, Us Against You. 

⭐⭐/5 on goodreads

I Am Behind You by John Ajvide Lindqvist

What, in the name of all that is Holy, did I just fucking read?

And so begins a long line of similar sentiments on the goodreads review board for John Ajvide Lindqvist's I Am Behind You, a title - much like the book - that is completely pointless and devoid of meaning and ultimately stupid. Apparently, this WTF-factor is not unfamiliar to readers of Lindqvist's previous books, but it will most likely be the reason that I never read - much less pay any more library late-fees for - one of his books again.

Waking up one morning in a Swedish campsite (not unlike many you find in America), a group of adults, two young children, a dog, and a cat find that everything has disappeared; no additional campers besides them, no additional caravans, no trees, no roads, no water, and no sun. Just blue sky and a grass that doesn't grow. What starts out as intensely creepy, gradually turns into the story with no ending; just one, long, constant stream of consciousness, like the ramblings of an old man who had the weirdest dream and remembers every last detail. But, not only does it get hard to focus, keep names and places straight, and is inherently meaningless, it is also gross, disturbing, and something you're just better off not knowing.

It is written well enough, capturing the spirit - the essence - of each character in a way that is expressly unique to them; and oftentimes profound, offering up several quotes that resonated with me, personally. But as the pages reach the end, the book goes from being a cross between The Shining, LOST, The Langoliers, and every horror movie you've ever seen involving creepy children, to a hodgepodge of lack-luster horror that even the characters aren't afraid of anymore. It goes the way of Nick Cutter's The Deep in that there comes a point when Lindqvist is just trying too hard to be controversial, and the payoff is nil. There is no happy ending, no conclusive ending - also like The Deep, the story just...stops. There is, literally, no ending, which means I could have stopped reading this book about 200-pages - or three weeks - ago, and now it is one of the few that I won't remember much of but when I see it or am reminded of it, will make me scrunch my nose in disgust.

Dubbed "the Stephen King of Sweden," and even though I find King to be exhausting on a whole other level, you're better off just reading a Stephen King novel. Like I Am Behind You, any of his books might also give you nightmares, but they will at least be nightmares that make sense. This book was definitely not worth the time, effort, or library late fees. ⭐/5 on goodreads.com.

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.

The Trap by Melanie Raabe

I'm a fairly observant person, more so than most, but it's not, like, my super-power or anything. I've noticed that lately I've been drawn to novels centered around the lives of agoraphobic writers, and that I find that lifestyle particularly intriguing. I realize that it's an illness and not a chosen lifestyle, but it's oddly appealing to me, enough so that I might give it a whirl if my own writing starts paying the bills one day. The idea runs counter to my love and joy of hiking, but not in my head; give me a secluded mountain cabin next to a lake any day of the week.

In Melanie Raabe's book, The Trap, Linda Conrads has more of a giant, terraced, house next to a lake that she hasn't left since the grizzly murder of her sister twelve years before. She swears that she locked eyes with Anna's killer before he fled the scene, never to be caught, despite years of dealing with panic attacks and a general deterioration of her mental well-being. Not necessarily agoraphobic, but in constant fear that the murderer will come back for her - the sole witness - Linda makes the choice to retreat into her house, supporting herself by churning our a few best-selling novels every year. Then she suddenly comes face to face with those killer eyes she saw all those years ago, only this time on her television screen in the form of a reporting war correspondent.

How unfair that he lives a life of ultimate, exaggerated freedom while her sister is dead and she is locked in her own thoughts and fears! So Linda sets about writing a new novel - a thriller - in hopes of manipulating him into a confession. What follows is an intense, gripping, cat-and-mouse of the minds, that leaves us readers un-sure of what, exactly, is real.

A German book turned to English, though nothing seems to get lost in translation, the writing is a bit jerky, which only lends itself to the suspenseful, mysterious shroud that engulfs both the main novel and the novel within the novel. A true testament to Raabe's talent, both books are certifiable page-turners, and constantly keep you guessing, but is more propulsive than the simple shocking twist that seems to be the requisite for thrillers these days. Are we witnessing the ultimate mental breakdown of a woman controlled by fear, or the rebirth of a woman who is struggling to gain control over a situation that has largely controlled her? In that vein, there are frustrating moments in the here-is-what-happened-just-kidding sort of way, and that is repeated several times over, making the story a constant stream of roller-coaster rides. In another testament to Raabe's talent, though, these perpetual roller-coasters are well-executed and don't make the reader sick, just entertained. It is incredibly engrossing and, without even realizing, you're suddenly on page 275.

The way in which Raabe is able to depict a woman struggling with her own truths is imagery at it's finest, which we usually think of in terms of landscapes. But the way Raabe is able to construct the landscape of the mind, especially one bruised by stress and trauma, is like nothing I have ever read before. And the novel speaks largely to our own never-ending troubles with thinking we know the truth, observing others and trying to determine if they are manipulating us, and how outside influences often inflame our already-harbored insecurities. Perhaps that is why the idea of a life as a recluse is so intriguing.

It is also very interesting the way in which she crafts her characters as how she wants us to see them, not how we're able to relate to them ourselves; we learn just what Conrads wants to show us, only thickening the mystery. The entire book is every ending to every thriller you've ever read - one long, tense, suspenseful ending with every turn of the page.

On a more personal note, I found The Trap to be a bit of an inspiration, and not in the hermit sense. Like I said, I would love to make a living off my writing, and to have a book that would be deemed worthwhile. But writing a novel seems like such an unbelievably daunting task; again, running counter to my joy and love of hiking. But after participating in a webinar with best-selling author, Alessandra Torre, and after reading how Linda Conrads crafts her story one scene at a time, and given my latest penchant for stories about reclusive writers, a fire, so-to speak, has been ignited and it finally feels like something I could possibly do and it not be too terrible. Furthermore, The Trap, reminded me that while writing can be a form of therapy for the writer, it can also very much be a way for us to get what we want where we didn't before.

The Bucket List by Georgia Clark

I've noticed that I have an interesting habit when it comes to the books that I end up finding absolutely amazing and how I select them at the library. The last few phenomenal books, I've picked them up off the shelf, read the synopsis, briefly considered adding it to my stack, before ultimately putting it back for next time. After two or three rounds of this, I finally bite the bullet and take the book home, and usually wind up utterly blown away. The Bucket List by Georgia Clark is...brilliant. It is witty and fun, heart-warming and heart-breaking, sexy and hilarious. I laughed-out-loud with, literally, every turn of the page, and found several moments where tears sprang to my eyes. I'm not usually on the yay-women! bandwagon, but this is a book every woman can appreciate, for so many, many reasons.

Lacey Whitman is a brash up-and-comer on the New York fashion scene, 25-years old and not afraid of a little hard work. Assuming it's nothing, and just another box Lacey wants to get ticked off, she requests the testing for the BCRA1 gene mutation only to find out that she's positive. With an almost-certainty that she will get cancer at some point in her life, Lacey is faced with deciding on years of close surveillance or mastectomy. While trying to choose, Lacey and her friends realize just how connected our boobs are to our sexuality, and even relationships, so they create a Boob Bucket List; everything she's ever wanted to do with her boobs before they get lopped off or turn into ticking time bombs.

To start, this book is phenomenally written. It is deep and profound, yet sharp and funny. Clark has her pulse on the cultural polarities, while also creating something deeply soulful and real. And each element to the story, each character, adds a component to the book that everyone can appreciate or relate to. I have none of the medical issues that Lacey is faced with, but this book resonated with me in ways I didn't expect.

At times, you love and empathize with Lacey, and at times you think she's a selfish bitch, because she is all of us; she is all of us women wrapped up in a colorfully likable character who is faced with a most undesirable decision with equally life-altering consequences. She is trying to navigate the tumultuous roads of friendships, relationships, family, and career, while stumbling into the stereotypical woman-pitfall of needing to be everything to everyone and a burden on no one. What on the surface is campy, fluffy chick-lit, actually touches on so many topics, especially those important to women, including our sexuality. 

Clark expertly makes the distinction between being in control of our sexuality and it being controlled for us, as Lacey discovers that, as she sits in the driver's seat of sex-ed, it ignites other, more fierce powers within her, giving her confidence in the areas of her life not ruled by libido. Clark also brilliantly showcases the fine line between caring for ourselves and when that self-care turns selfish and starts to harm others. And this is a fantastic read for a time in our culture when we're trying to find the socially acceptable balance between sex and power, and grasp how the two relate, compliment, and confuse one another. What Clark offers up in The Bucket List is charming and charismatic and covers the wide spectrum of emotions as Lacey goes through it all - fear, indecision, lust, romance, rejection, loss, anger, heartbreak, and happiness, all with a wry, infectious humor that really makes you believe laughter is the best medicine.

The Bucket List also gave me a new appreciation for boobs and a deeper understanding of just how involved they are in our lives and those we choose to bring close to us. They are our sexual antennas, our pregnancy beacons, and worshiped by many. I encourage anyone with an interest in good books, relatable characters, and laughing through the tears of the curve-balls of life to read this book. I encourage people who have the gene mutation, breast cancer, or know people from either to read this book. 

I laughed, I cried, and I am so glad that - after three tries - I finally checked it out. Let's hear it for the ladies! (And get those checked out, too.)

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.