I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella

I want to live in a world in which Kinsella creates, which is quite silly, really, because her world is the natural one, she just fills it with charming, real characters who, while still having the usual human flaws, offer sympathy and humanity. Book after book, Kinsella's cast of characters continue to restore our faith in humanity; we can have a big fuck up and people who love us. We can have both things. Kinsella deftly navigates the negatives of life with wit, charisma, and a sly bit of sarcasm, and makes us believe that things really will be all right in the end, even when it all goes wrong.

In Kinsella's latest novel, I Owe You One, Fixie Farr - Ms. Fix-It to her family - has one self-described flaw: she needs to fix everything. What is spun as a personality defect by her self-absorbed siblings is actually her warm, open heart, willing to help anyone for virtually no reason at all. Caught up in her subtle family dramas that they leave her to deal with, Fixie is casually asked by a stranger in a coffee shop if she'll keep an eye on his laptop while he steps outside to take a call. Saving the laptop from certain disaster for stranger Sebastian leads to a roller coaster of IOUs, from the silly to the life-changing. As a result of this happenstance meeting, Fixie learns more about herself, what she's worth compared to what she think she's worth, that if people truly respect her, they will also respect her boundaries, and that having boundaries is not a referendum on how much she loves and cares for others. 

With her finger firmly on the cultural pulse, Kinsella pokes fun at the pitfalls of always finding the positive in every situation, and the slippery slope between self care and being downright selfish. And, of course, in a warm, light prose, Kinsella makes us laugh with the lunacy of family we all find way too familiar. Her writing is genuine, funny, and really engages with the reader; I can't decide if I want to be one of Kinsella's characters, or if I want to be best friends with them.

I Owe You One is a definite delight. What is on the surface a light, fun page-turner full of quip, is also a poignant reflection of our relationships with friends, family, and spouses; and that those little lies we tell ourselves in order to give people the benefit of the doubt is actually hurting us more than simply facing the truth - that some people are worth our love and "fixing," and some people are not. Fixie is a delightful character we can carry in our hearts as we continue to navigate the difference between the two.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads because I can't imagine ever giving one of her books anything less than four stars.

I usually read at least one Sophie Kinsella book every year, which isn't by design, it just happens to always work out that way (this year I will read two, however, because Becky Brandon nee Bloomwood is BACK!), and each book of her's that I read manages to be the exact book I need to read at that particular point in my life. Yes, I realize how dramatic that sounds and I don't mean it to be, but my fellow bibliophiles will understand that one of the reasons we love and gravitate towards books so much is because we can relate them, or parts of them, to our own lives. Reading the stories of others oftentimes helps us see issues in our own lives from a different perspective, helps us draw certain conclusions, or give us confidence in our emotions. And, of course, that we're not alone.

The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

Unless you live under a rock, you probably still have WiFi, so you've seen The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen all over Instagram and book blogs. Well, here it is again, and I don't feel quite the same way that my fellow bookstagrammers and book bloggers do.

This book, another in a long line of domestic thrillers, is billed to be a lot more sinister than it actually is, and the mystery is far surpassed by the emotional drama. In terms of sub-categorizing the domestic fiction genre, I believe The Wife Between Us would make better company among novels like Ghosted and anything by Liane Moriarty. It offers up enough twists and turns to satisfy the thriller-seekers, but, really, this book ultimately dives deeper into the characters, the tangled webs they weave and why, all wrapped up in an empathetic story line.

Like the book jacket suggests, you will read this book and assume you are reading about a heartbroken ex-wife, left by her wealthy, powerful husband for his younger, blonder, Assistant (they don't call them Secretaries anymore). You will think that she is obsessed with her replacement and yearns for the life she once had. Then comes the twist, so sharp you get whiplash and, like Erin Kelly's The Burning Air, you are almost tempted to go back and flip through the last section just to make sure that, yup, she/they did just do that. This twist, though sharp, is also a bit watered down; Kelly still reins supreme.

The Wife Between Us is a well-written, well-crafted story that comes full-circle, but not without throwing out the odd detour here and there. And though psychologically mind-bending, it is more heart-warming than the synopsis would have you expect. It lives up to the hype, serving up several twists and turns, they just come on too sharp, start to become predictable, and one twist is sorely over-used in novels these days. The characters are deep and interesting and garner sympathy, but Vanessa's role in particular is a bit of a stretch, and I find her role hard to believe given the past that Hendricks and Pekkanen created for her.

Though a definite page-turner with compelling storytelling, I don't think this book is as good as the online hype; or maybe I am just tiring of the predictability that seems to be the way of domestic thrillers these days. I was expecting something different and a little darker and The Wife Between Us is just more of the same and left me a little underwhelmed, which is why I give it ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads. I've said it before and I'll say it again, just read The Burning Air instead.

The Way We Bared Our Souls by Willa Strayhorn

I like to boast that I will read pretty much anything, though I avoid trigger topics like I mentioned before, and if ever I am given the opportunity to choose between a Young Adult novel and anything else, I will almost always choose Anything Else. I appreciate the genre, though with every YA book I've read (The Hunger Games trilogy - HERE, HERE, and HERE - Divergent, Cinder, How To Lead a Life of Crime, The Fault in Our Stars, etc.), I've felt that they are decidedly *not* Young Adult but just Regular Adult. Willa Strayhorn's The Way We Bared Our Souls is exactly what a Young Adult novel should look and sound like, and I think it would do actual young people a service to read and discuss this book with their peers, and perhaps an English teacher.

Lo is on the verge of being diagnosed with MS; Ellen is numbing herself with drugs and alcohol; Kaya, due to a chronic illness, is immune to feeling physical pain; Thomas can't forget his war-torn past; and Kit constantly fears death after his girlfriend's car accident. And when Lo meets a mysterious man and his coyote who says he can perform a sacred ritual to relieve their biggest burdens, Lo - like many teenagers - believes this is her only option; that this mysterious Jay will somehow cure her and the others. So they head into the desert and trade totems in what they believe to be purely symbolic but quickly turns literal. For the next seven days, the teens take on each other's burdens, which begs the question: if you could trade your biggest burden for someone else's, would you?

While not the most well-written or literary of the Young Adult genre, The Way We Bared Our Souls shows up for teens where Thirteen Reasons Why falls short; where Thirteen Reasons does a lot of victimizing and blaming, The Way We Bared Our Souls emphasizes the importance of showing up for ourselves, and that our burdens don't have to be what defines or controls us. There are moments when the story is a bit of a stretch, but the main points are never lost. And while there are far too many periods - which I assume is so teen readers will move seamlessly from one sentence to the other - the mood of the novel can get a bit Dawson's Creek and overly mature, which young readers today won't understand the reference to, anyways. Strayhorn satisfactorily showcases relatable teen angst with a splash of make-believe and magic and some good American history to bring things back down to Earth.

I give this book ⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads mostly because the book as a whole is a bit young for me, and I find adult books to be generally more engrossing. Teens, however, could really gain something valuable from The Way We Bared Our Souls.

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.