TWO-CENT TUESDAY

Below are a few (somewhat) brief $.02 opinions about books I've read or listened to recently but don't have the opportunity to review in full. Many of these titles I enjoyed as much or more than those that got the full court press. I hope you'll consider one or two for your own TBR stack if they strike your fancy whether they struck mine or not.

STAY AWAKE, by Megan Goldin

This was such a fun and different read. Liv Reese wakes in the back of a taxi with no idea how she got there. When she's dropped at home, a stranger answers and claims to have never heard of her. Liv is further confused by the bloody knife in her possession and the strange writing on her body. One of the messages says "Stay awake." She's then shocked by a news story about a bloody murder in a condo. The horrifying part? Written across the window in blood, for everyone outside to see, are the words "Stay awake." Liv can't trust anyone so she runs, tries to avoid sleep (every time she wakes she has once again erased her memory of the last two years), and figure out what happened to erase so much of her life. A race against the cops and evil forces ensues that kept me sitting with this book 'til I finished. A fun concept cleverly written, I recommend this one to anyone who wants a few hours of escapism.

WE SPREAD, by Iain Reid

This fantastic cover would have made me pick this up even if Reid hadn't exploded my brain with I'm Thinking of Ending Things a few years back. We Spread gave me similar creepy feelings of horror and the unknown as I read it, but it was also much different. Penny has lived in the same apartment for decades with her unnamed partner, an artist. She herself is a painter, but does not have the confidence to show anyone her work. After her partner dies and she has a fall, Penny's landlord packs her up and takes her to Six Cedars, a unique care facility that has only four rooms and two staff members. The food is good, the views beautiful, the care detailed. But the schedule is strict, the rules plenty, and no one is allowed to go outside. As strange things begin to happen to Penny, she questions how she ended up at Six Cedars and what the intent behind the "care" really is. Reid does spooky ambiguity better than just about anyone and We Spread is full of it. Ultimately, it's either a creepy tale of the horrors of elder care, or a heartrending look into aging and losing what one used to be.

TWO-CENT TUESDAY

Below are a few (somewhat) brief $.02 opinions about books I've read or listened to recently but don't have the opportunity to review in full. Many of these titles I enjoyed as much or more than those that got the full court press. I hope you'll consider one or two for your own TBR stack if they strike your fancy whether they struck mine or not. 

And There He Kept Her, Joshua Moehling

I wish I could remember where I heard about this book, because I would not have chosen it based on cover or title, neither of which I think do it service. Almost to the other side, as much as I like gritty stuff (see Pete Farris's latest, which starts with a great line about a woman being bound in a trunk), the toxic masculinity this title/cover combo bring to mind would have put me off. Which is really a bummer, because this book is fabulous. It's Moehling's debut, which makes it even more impressive. Yes, there is a woman locked up. Yes there are horrible people. But the plot is clean and moves swiftly, no extraneous fluff that got in the way. Best of all, Moehling's characters left me hoping the small historical backstory arc that doesn't get resolved means another installment of Deputy Ben Packard's story. Here, he's returned to the small lake town in Minnesota where he has history and some family. He's running from tragedy and himself (a trope, yes, but it felt authentic here, and I'm not going to give it away because the reveal should be experienced while reading. When two local teens go missing, including Packard's taciturn cousin's daughter, he takes a personal and professional interest. As he and his team investigate, coming into contact with some great (and not so great, and some morphing) colorful locals, time is running out for the woman in the locked room. Who is she and who has her? I highly recommend taking the time to read this one and finding out first hand.

Nightcrawling, Leila Mottley

Another dazzling debut from a 19-year-old who was also the 2018 Oakland Youth Poet Laureate and the youngest author to be chosen for Oprah's book club pick. Those who live in or around Oakland as I do will likely remember the horrific Oakland Police Department sexploitation scandal of 2016, and Mottley took inspiration from those events and began writing while she was in high school. Kiara is 17, living in the Regal-Hi apartments (and its pool filled with bags of shit) with her brother Marcus, left to fend for themselves by addiction, death and the prison system. Marcus won't find a job, clinging to his dreams of rap stardom, and Ki and left to pay their increased rent, which is already overdue. Ki's responsibilities get heavier when she begins to care for the 9-year-old boy next door, whose mother is strung out and gone most of the time. A nighttime misunderstanding sucks Ki into a situation she can't seem to get out of--where will the money come from? what will happen to Trevor?--and soon she's selling her soul to keep the balls in the air. Haunting, electric, and a dazzling display of the perils the system and society heap atop the Black community and the resilience and fortitude of Black women. Mottley's writing is searing and authentic, and though my praise certainly isn't needed on top of her many accolades, she's got it.

Directed By James Burrows, James Burrows

I was raised on the genius television of James Burrows. He's been called "the greatest director of comedy in television history" by his creative partners Les and Glen Charles. He's the greatest "by any measurement: number of episodes, number of gigantic hit series, number of awards, and the amount of volume of laughter he's been responsible for." He has directed more than seventy-five pilots that have gone to series and well over a thousand show episodes. GREAT shows. The Mary Tyler Moore Show, The Bob Newhart Show, Laverne & Shirley, Phyllis, Taxi, Cheers, Frasier, Friends, Mike & Molly, Will & Grace--shows that belong in the television Hall of Fame. I was so anxious to read his memoir, which he calls "a celebration of the great people [he] worked with and the joy and challenges [we] had together. Burrows begins at the beginning, his childhood as the son of legendary playwright and Broadway director Abe Burrows, his start in the theater, and his foray into his milieu, television comedy. He proceeds chronologically through each show, sharing facts and highlights. Ultimately, while I loved the content, I had some of the same feelings about this memoir as I did about Bob Odenkirk's. The work is so damn good that on the page it suffers a bit. Burrows writing is very matter-of-fact. You know the joy (or hardship) is there, but it doesn't leap off the page and sock you in the guts. Other than one behind-the-scenes story from Cheers, there wasn't much in the way of new or "wow" information. It's a great read from an individual I am SO thankful for, and maybe my expectations were too high. Burrows television is some of the best of my life, and that's a tough bar for anyone, even Burrows himself, to leap. 

THE CHANGE :: Kristen Miller

Kristen Miller's The Change is not a book that would normally be on my radar, but I joined an Instagram buddy read group and this was their selection. I could have skipped it, but it sounded like it could be a bit of fun. I was so wrong - this book was SO MUCH FUCKING FUN! I understand some readers felt it was heavy-handed on the feminist front, but first, why the hell not? We certainly have plenty of heavy-handed books with women as the forever victim. Second, the heavy-handedness is, from my perspective, done intentionally and very well by Miller.

At its base level, The Change is about three women "of a certain age" taking their power back. They discover each other at the right time in their lives where they are ready to take control and take charge. While the plot is serious (young girls have been murdered), large parts of the goings-on are underpinned by fantasy and social commentary. 

Harriett is a former advertising exec who is responsible for her husband's success while he gets the credit. She left the corporate world and is now divorced, tending to her outlandish garden (that breaks every HOA rule to hilarious end) and "helping" people with her plant-based potions. No surprise she's known as a witch. She is the embodiment of a strong woman who does what she wants, takes no prisoners and suffers no fools ("That’s why I choose vengeance. She’s the only mistress I serve.").

Jo used to work in the hospitality industry, but now runs an all-women's gym where she can rage-run to her heart's content. When she gets angry, her power manifests in extreme strength and heaven help those who piss her off. 

Nessa is a former nurse who inherited the family legacy of being able to hear and see the dead. Her gift is what sets off the action, as the women discover a dead body surrounded by more dead young women and are bound and determined to figure out what's going on in their neighborhood. 

The book was not without its flaws, and at one point I thought it was over, but it still had quite a few pages left. Some of the characters' intentions and true colors were telegraphed, but honestly, it just didn't matter. These issues didn't detract enough to keep me from finding this a fantastically enjoyable trip. 

I'm a sucker for good character work and Miller's is stellar. Each of the women is multi-faceted and fascinating in her own right, with backgrounds and issues that kept the narrative fluid and on point rather than dragging it down. I wanted to know more about these women, especially Harriett, who is someone I would want to hang out with any day. 

I'm so glad I was convinced to read The Change and will definitely seek out more work by Miller. It was by turns moving, hilarious, serious, outlandish, educational, motivational, and fun. A definite E-ticket ride. 
  

THE DEVIL HIMSELF :: Peter Farris

It's hard to believe it's been ten years since Peter Farris's fabulous Last Call for the Living. I've been missing Pete's words, but since only the French seem to have common sense when it comes to publishing crime fiction, the U.S. market has had to wait for this barnburner. But holy moly is The Devil Himself worth the wait. How's this for an opener that grabs you by the guts with hot needle-nose pliers:

"The girl in the trunk had been bound."

Short, sweet, and irresistable. To say too much about the plot is a disservice. Though this is straight-forward, hell-bent-on-revenge grit, the beauty is in discovering everything unfold in real time. To figure out who you're rooting for, what layers the characters have that are slowly peeled back. 

I will say that teenaged Maya, she of the trunk, does not go down without a fight. She's found herself in a difficult position that marks her for death, but don't underestimate her based on circumstance. She ends up on the property of Leonard Moye, the town's eccentric kook who doesn't tolerate anyone on his land. To say that Farris takes these two heavily-labeled individuals and turns them into individuals you will never forget is downselling what he's done here. It's simply magnificent.

Set in the deep woods of South Georgia, The Devil Himself is a masterful work of character, set within a dark world filled with many bad actors. As well-paced as it is heart-piercing, it's one I won't soon forget. It's no surprise Farris won several French literary awards with this work, I hope he is similarly recognized here at home.

NOBODY GETS OUT ALIVE :: Leigh Newman

As a proponent of the inverse correlation between the length of a work and its difficulty (poetry to short stories and on up), I have a high appreciation of the short form and try to read it as often and diversely as I can. Leigh Newman's recent collection won me over with the cover, followed by its description as a set of "dazzling, courageous stories about women struggling to survive not just grizzly bears and charging moose but the raw, exhausting legacy of their marriages and families." 

The first story, Howl Palace, was brilliant, and I went hunting for everything else Newman has written before I was half through with it. I was unsurprised to learn it won The Paris Review’s Terry Southern Prize, and was a Best American Short Story and Pushcart Prize selection.

Howl opens the night before a sixty-seven-year-old widow's real estate agent holds an open house at her property, which is listed as an "attractively priced teardown." To Dutch, however, "every good thing that had ever happened to me happened in Howl Palace. And every bad thing too. Forty-three years. Five husbands. Two floatplanes. A lifetime. It felt as if I should honor my home, that strangers shouldn't come around poking through the kitchen or kicking the baseboards, seeing only the mold in the hot tub and the gnaw marks on the cabinets from the dogs I'd had over the years, maybe even laughing at the name."

Dutch expounds on her history, with laugh-out-loud diatribes about life, her husbands (re Skip, number 5, "Shipping him off to a facility in Washington near his daughter wasn't exactly something I struggled with"), her dogs, her efforts ("If you are looking for a reason to split five cords of wood by hand each year for forty-odd years, consider my biceps at age sixty-seven"), and her surroundings (consider the oft-mentioned and somewhat secretive "wolf room"). 

Just as she's setting up for the open house cookout, the real love of Dutch's life, Carl ("the beautiful deviling heartbreak of my life"), comes to ask if she will watch his dog while he's away. It's something he knows she doesn't want to do, and "somehow" the dog gets loose, wreaking havoc and sending Dutch's pre-event anxiety through the roof. It also lends to her reminiscing, Carl's imprint on so many parts of her life and the realization of why he has come to that day.

Howl Palace is a bittersweet, raucous revisiting of a life as Dutch prepares to let go of the only thing she has left. Beautifully paced and painting a picture you could look at forever, Newman shows herself a master of her craft. I didn't want it to end.

The remainder of the collection is replete with the same gorgeous phraseology, stories full of intriguing, multi-layered characters in various surroundings. The sense of place is different in each, many evoking what one envisions when they think of the wild, bicep-building life in Alaska  (and yet some feeling they could take place anywhere). Not many stories feature a mastodon tusk as deftly and meaningfully as Newman does. Her writing is unique and clever, she is a wordsmith of the highest order. 

 My only "complaint" is that Howl Palace blew me so high out of the water I kept searching for its equal. An unfair ask, really, and beginning the set with that story is both a blessing and a curse. It's one of the best short stories I've ever read and it will keep me reading Newman's work well into the future. 

CHILD ZERO :: Chris Holm

As a huge fan of Chris Holm's work (go dig on The Killing Kind, I've been waiting with bated breath for Child Zero. On the other hand, I knew a bit about where this book was headed and was...let's say scairt. Holm is a super smartypants (molecular biologist) and I am a middling smartysock. When I got my copy I was elated and also, as I told him, "hoping it wasn't over my head." As usual, he had the best response: "If that's the case then I haven't done my job." I can now attest that Holm did his job to PERFECTION. 

One of the things I adore about Chris's writing is that while story is Job 1, character is Job 1A. Once again, he's nailed both in thrilling fashion. In a not-too-far-ahead future, we have continued to fuck up. Unchecked climate change results in a deadly virus being unleashed from the Siberian permafrost. Also, whoopsy!, it renders antibiotics useless. That hangnail you're nursing? That teeny scratch from your beloved Dashiell? They might now be the death of you.

Child Zero is the thrilling story of people trying to adapt to a horror landscape several years following a bioterror attack. We experience that terror through NYPD Detective Jake Gibson, who lost his wife in the attack and is raising his daughter Zoe alone. As we meet Jake, Zoe has a temperature high enough he is mandated to report it to the Department of Biological Security. But Jake knows what happens when a report is made and he's willing to risk everything to keep Zoe safe.

Jake's problems are multiplied when he's notified of a massacre at Park City, an encampment of refugees stranded when Manhattan was quarantined following the 8/17 bioterror attack. The scene makes it clear the assassins were looking for something or someone and Jake and his kickass partner Amira "Amy" Hassan need to figure it out quickly.  

As the Park City attack began, twelve-year-old Mateo Rivas was awakened by his uncle Gabriel and hurried to a planned escape route. Gabriel ensured Mat held a bound and wrapped package securely and remembered his instructions, then sent the boy out into the world via the sewer system.

 

What Mat possesses and why baddies might want it is at the core of Child Zero, a total barnburner from start to finish. The science is frighteningly on point and plausible, the characters are so well drawn you can't help but want more of them, and the sandbox the science and characters get to play in keeps the reader glued to the page. Holm's world-building is superb and, since the book was serendipitously (?) published during a pandemic, Holm has made it all too easy to imagine this world as our future.

If sciencey stuff makes you think twice, I'm here to tell you it's not an obstacle to your understanding or enjoyment. If science is your bag, there are more than enough juicy tidbits for you. If you are trying to escape pandemic reading, this didn't ring my "pandemic malaise" bell. Although we can all now sadly relate to many of the issues raised by the plot, Child Zero is still escapism at its finest. 

I don't have a ratings system or give stars, so I'm just going to lasso the galaxy and hand it to Child Zero.

END OF YEAR THRILLS

As we close out 2021 and head into another abyss, for some reason it's beginning to feel as though I'm getting my reading legs back. To that end, I immediately jumped into my backlist to hit a book from Ryan Gattis I have been really excited about, and a couple of raves from the book tribe, one of which panned out greatly, the other simply panned.

The System, Ryan Gattis

Gattis's All Involved was so fantastic I was anxiously awaiting his next work. Which, sadly, had been languishing while I get my brain back, but wow was the wait worth it. Written in the same real-time format as All Involved, The System unsurprisingly delves into our justice and penal systems. When a gang hit goes down, an addict witness, the dropped weapon, a predatory parole officer and the young man who lives with the beautiful woman the officer covets all combine to allow Gattis to display the power (and misuse thereof) and grind of the system. Gattis utilizes his characters to pointedly show what happens when a power vacuum occurs on the outside while the guilty and innocent sit inside, and the system the incarcerated are forced to quickly learn in order to survive and/or thrive.  Tense and fast-paced, Gattis has another winner that educates without preaching. 

I Am Not Who You Think I Am, Eric Rickstad

I have seen Rickstad's name quite a bit and have admittedly whiffed on reading his work, because if this piece is any indication, he's a highly entertaining thriller writer. I listed to this title on audio and my walks got longer and longer because I didn't want to stop listening. The format was also quite clever - someone has written a letter to the Vermont authorities and once they check it out, they release it to their community. The story (through the note) is told by Wayland Maynard who, at 8 years old, saw his father commit suicide. He also found a note in his father's writing which said "I am not who you think I am."

At age 16, Wayland is still troubled by his father's death and comes to believe the man he saw shoot himself that day was not his father. As he investigates, sometimes with the help of friends, Wayland begins to uncover family lore that no one is expecting or prepared for. Rickstad keeps the pace up and surprises coming and while we are all rooting for Wayland, his hands are also not clean by the end of his journey. It's a tense ride with wonderful Gothic undertones. There is certainly an awesome creep factor to the investigation and the history behind it. 

No One Will Miss Her, Kat Rosenfield

I usually don't post mostly-negative reviews, but this one made me mad. The cover caught my eye, and then I was swayed by word-of-mouth raves and a starred trade review. I must have read a different book. The plot was interesting and the writing engaging. My problem is the entire plot hingeing on stupidity. Stupidity to the extent that I couldn't write it off for the sake of story. Using Gorilla gluing to attach body parts to fool the authorities, who were (apparently) too stupid to catch it and also too stupid to do DNA tests at a murder scene. Maybe I'm too much of a stickler, but I couldn't get past it. 

 

TWO-CENT TUESDAY

Below are a few somewhat brief $.02 opinions about books I've read or listened to recently but don't have the time, inclination, or opportunity to review in full. Their appearance often here has little to do with merit. Many of these titles I enjoyed as much or more than those that got the full court press. I hope you'll consider one or two for your own TBR stack if they strike your fancy whether they struck mine or not.

Although I generally try to slip some books in here that I wasn't too thrilled with, that isn't the case this week. Whether I read a physical copy or listened to an audiobook, each of these titles was a winner. Some were known authors I knew were unlikely to let me down, a couple were shots in the dark based on my gut that paid off tremendously. 

We Had a Little Real Estate Problem: The Unheralded Story of Native Americans & Comedy, by Kliph Nesteroff

I thought this would be an important, yet maddening, read. It was all that plus very well done and some great blasts from my past. It had me down a rabbit hole of old late night talk show clips (going back to Johnny Carson) to find old comedy bits. Look up Charlie Hill if you get the chance. He was the first Native American comedian to appear on The Tonight Show and also ended up writing for television. It is one of Hill's bits that inspired the title of the book: "My people are from Wisconsin. We used to be from New York. We had a little real estate problem.” 

Nesteroff has been called "The Human Encyclopedia of Comedy" and "The King of Comedy Lore," and after a bit of a slow-moving start, the material kicks up several notches when it hits "modern day" comedy (i.e., when my old ass was alive). A highlight of the impact Native Americans have made on the comedy world despite their historical denial of representation, this is a great (and sorrowful) read well-worth the time and education. 

 

What's Done in Darkness, by Laura McHugh

Since I fell in love with her debut, The Weight of Blood, McHugh has become a must-read author. Her latest continues her hot streak. In this one, 17-year-old Sarabeth's abduction is less than believable since she had been rebelling against her strictly religious parents when she was allegedly taken and then released a week later. Despite her torment, the abduction does give her the chance to finally escape the Ozarks.

Five years later, FBI Agent Nick Farrow calls, asking for Sarabeth's help. Another girl has gone missing under circumstances Farrow thinks may be related to Sarabeth's abduction and her memories may help the case. 

Reluctantly, Sarabeth agrees to help, and delving into her own kidnapping releases memories and a past full of evil just waiting to be uncovered. McHugh is a wonderful writer who tells a great story. When those two elements come together, an intriguing read results, even if one might not be into some of the plot arcs (i.e., religion). It really doesn't matter, I'll read anything McHugh writes. If you've not read her work, I highly recommend it.

Local Woman Missing, by Mary Kubica

Mary Kubica is another author who blew me away with her debut, The Good Girl. I've read everything she's written since and have only been slightly underwhelmed once. She remains an auto-read and when I hit her latest on audio my mind didn't wander at all (which it almost always does when I'm listening to a book while multi-tasking). 

Meredith, a doula, and her six-year-old daughter go missing. Meredith's car is found at a local motel, where it appears she committed suicide. Her daughter is nowhere to be found. The anxiousness in the neighborhood is amped up due to the recent disappearance of another local woman who turns out to have been one of Meredith's clients. 

Told in the usual rotating timeline, alternating POV that Kubica does so well, this one is well worth a listen despite some far-fetched plot points.

The Mighty Oak, by Jeff W. Bens

I was won over by a cool cover and a short plot summary and found a true gem inside. Tim "Oak" O'Connor is a goon for the El Paso Storm of the West Texas Hockey League. As a hockey hitman, he's paid to be violent and his body is basically jelly held together by a skin suit. He's also been away from home for a long time; long enough to lose his wife to his best friend and miss out on his daughter's life.

When he returns to Boston for his mother's death, he begins to confront all he's given up for a sport he still can't imagine giving up, even as he crunches oxy to keep upright. He also makes new connections with a haunted attorney and a young boy facing issues of his own. Bens writes wonderfully and The Mighty Oak had me entranced from the start. 

JUNE GEMS

These titles are two of my favorite of the year and each will sit with me long after this year is over. One is crime fiction at its finest, filled with social themes that don't beat you over the head but work with the non-stop plot to sink into your bones. The other is flat out one of the finest memoirs I've ever read.  

Razorblade Tears, by S.A. Cosby

A kickass plot filled with potential pitfalls, extraordinarily well carried out to avoid all of them. That's really all you need to know about Shawn Cosby's latest. I've read Cosby's other work (My Darkest Prayer and Blacktop Wasteland) and enjoyed both. Even more enjoyable is seeing a really good writer hone his craft before your eyes. Each outing is stronger than the last and I can't wait to see what follows Razorblade Tears, because it knocked my socks off. 

Two fathers avenge the deaths of their sons. That's a good enough story. But add to that the fact that the sons were a mixed race couple with a daughter. Both had difficult relationships with their fathers who, surprise!, had some issues with their sexuality. One Black, one white, Ike and Buddy Lee have only checkered pasts, their sons, and a need for justice in common. When the police investigation goes cold, justice turns to personal revenge. 

This story will translate beautifully to film. On the surface a fun, high-octane buddy story with two characters that feed off each other wonderfully. At its heart a well-painted picture of grief, regret, and social failings that lie so directly in the center of our society that they can separate families. If I had to find a quibble with this book, it's just a personal one -- my own weariness of the "family in peril" plotline. Yet Cosby also handles that well enough that I had to put my prejudice away.  

Punch Me Up to the Gods, by Brian Broome

I did not know who Brian Broome was when this gorgeous little face and intriguing title captivated me. I will now never forget him, as this is certainly one of the finest memoirs to ever torture me. It's the story, like so many others, of the perils of being a young, poor, Black boy, queer to boot, and his efforts to find a place in the world. The search for a path made all the more treacherous by his father, who was an angry, violent man who would rather kill his son himself than have him killed by a white person.

While one can hate the methods, Broome does a stellar job of explaining the undercurrents of raising Black boys. This is where the memoir skyrockets from uber-talented writing to genius -- the format through which Broome tells his story along with that of our societal failings. He begins with one bus ride he shares with a toddler named Tuan and his father. One of the first things Broome observes is Tuan falling headfirst onto the concrete while waiting for the bus. Out of fright and/or pain, Tuan begins to wail. At which point his father tells him to stop crying and be a man. Thus begins the chapters titled The Initiation of Tuan. 

Through these chapters, Broome observes ongoing interactions between Tuan and his father. Each chapter then feeds into Broome's own story and the way he learned those same lessons of hyper-masculinity. Through these alternating chapters, Broome tells his story and the story of young Tuan, both of which will empty your guts out like a rusted melon-baller. At turns hilarious and raw, Broome's ability and willingness to convey his innermost emotions are extraordinary. 

SEEING SERENA :: Gerald Marzorati

A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and is republished here with permission.

Gerald Marzorati, retired editor of the New York Times Magazine, takes an intriguing approach in Seeing Serena. The project was not formally authorized by Serena Williams, nor did Marzorati have special access to the athlete or her camp. Rather, Marzorati wanted "simply and not so simply, to see her in all the ways [he] could: watch her, describe her, listen to her, follow her (in the new conditions of seeing created by Instagram, etc.), interpret her, situate her." The result is a captivating look at one of the world's most supreme competitors and cultural symbols.

Upping the thrill factor is the timing of Marzorati's focus on Williams--37 and just back on tour in 2019 following the birth of her first child, she is nagged by injuries and playing opponents sometimes decades her junior. If that pressure isn't enough, she is seeking her 24th Grand Slam singles title, a pinnacle reached only by Australian Margaret Court during a vastly different era.

Far from the young novice who was booed and ostracized along with her older sister, Venus, when they joined the tour, Serena Williams is one of the highest paid and most recognizable athletes in the world, a crowd favorite. She's no less of a force off the court: she has forged her personal brand on social media while creating a fashion line and investing in other ventures as an entrepreneur. Interspersed with looks back, Marzorati provides an enthralling view of the forces that he believes made Serena "the most consequential athlete of her time." 

DARK DONE MASTERFULLY

I am a lover of the dark. In fiction, movies, whatever media you want to throw my way. Why is a question for my psychiatrist, but I hope you'll read on and reap the benefits of my hollow core. The following titles are two of the best I've read, particularly when they deal with such disturbing subject matter.

I also can't take credit for discovering either of these books, as each were rocketed to the top of my reading list based on recommendations from trusted reviewers. They both nailed it and now I pass along their brilliance to you.

A CERTAIN HUNGER, by Chelsea G. Summers

My cover gut is a well-honed machine, but every once in a blue moon it steers me into a ditch. This is one of those times. When I saw this cover I immediately moved on, as the image harkened artsy historical fiction, which is generally not my bag. Then Katrina Niidas Holm (master reviewer and interviewer for PW, Mystery Scene, Crimespree and others -- see her outstanding, in-depth review here) raved and said I would love it, so I set my reservations aside. We often like very different things, but she also talked me into my greatest recent love, the joy that is Ted Lasso (I can do joy once a year), so her cred was sky high. 

What to say about this book? It's the superbly written, first-person account of James Beard Award-winning food critic Dorothy Daniels, who somewhat accidentally becomes a cannibal. Sorry, had to write that line because it sounds so funny. And don't get me wrong, A Certain Hunger IS funny. Sometimes slyly so, often side-splittingly so. But Dorothy is no humorist, she is simply self-assured AF. Although we find out early on that Dorothy is writing from prison, it's a long, windy road there and the story of her path and how she eventually slips is better than a four-star meal. 

THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING, by Nancy Tucker

When an 8-year-old narrator begins a book by saying "I killed a little boy today," your guts swirl in a way few things can twist them. We're used to adults committing heinous acts, but a little girl? How the hell is Nancy Tucker going to (1) make Chrissie empathetic and/or (2) write anything approaching a good book about a child killer? 

A narrow set of questions, yes, but it's not every day someone tries to make this scenario a read of interest, much less one of insight and understanding. Tucker is tremendously successful. Narrated by both Chrissie (the child) and Julia (post-Chrissie adult), The First Day of Spring is astounding in its ability to put the reader in the mind of a tormented child and understand why she acts and reacts the way she does. (The tragedy behind Chrissie's view of death alone is a stellar piece of multiple character development in one fell swoop.)

All Chrissie wants is attention, to feel some warmth, though by the time we meet her she's almost past the point of accepting any positivity. She knows she's a "bad seed." She can feel it in everyone she meets, reinforced by her mother, who I would like to dropkick to the ends of the earth. She thinks of herself as both "an outline with nothing inside and also full of broken glass -- "I thought perhaps that was why if Mam ever had to touch me, she looked like she was being sliced by something sharp. Because she saw what Da and Linda didn’t see: that I was broken-glass girl. I hurt other people just by being me."

I would have skipped this book because despite the black background on the cover, flowers and spring give me feelings that are the opposite of what this book is. But Catherine of The Gilmore Guide to Books  gave it five stars and that made me sit up and take note. I didn't have to read much of her fabulous review to know I should crack this one open. The subject matter is rough, but hugging this piece of broken glass is assuredly worthwhile. 

 
 

First Day of Spring

TWO-CENT TUESDAY

Below are a few (somewhat) brief, $.02 opinions about books I've read or listened to recently but don't have the time, inclination, or opportunity to review in full. Their appearance in this recurring piece often has little to nothing to do with merit. Some I enjoyed as much or more than those that got the full court press. I hope you'll consider one or two for your own TBR stack if they strike your fancy whether they struck mine or not.

KNOCKED MY SOCKS OFF

A Knock at Midnight, by Brittany K. Barnett

This book is not what I was expecting. I went in blind, sold by the cover, title, and rave recommendations from trusted sources. What I got was a searing and enraging look at the cost of America's ridiculous and racist "war on drugs" and the sentencing guidelines that have ravaged our communities of color.

Brittany Barnett was a brilliant student on her way to becoming an accountant when she learned of Sharanda Jones, a single mother, business owner and prison inmate given a life sentence for a minor (and first) drug offense. This was the first of many cases that changed Barnett's path along with those of numerous individuals who paid prices far beyond their offenses. Now an attorney and co-founder of Buried Alive, Barnett pens a fascinating look at a broken system. Required reading.

The Push, by Ashley Audrain

I'm not even sure how to describe this tense, psychological slow burn other than as a less-thriller-esque and more character study-ish Baby Teeth (which I loved, written by Zoje Stage). Blythe is a new mother who has trouble attaching to her new baby girl. Then she begins to feel there's really something wrong with her daughter. Or is something wrong with her? 

Blythe's husband Fox feels she's imagining things, because of course he has bonded with Violet and doesn't see anything wrong with her behavior. When baby Sam comes along, everything comes to a head. That's all you get. If difficult, in-depth character work is your thing, this will hit all the sweet spots.

The Low Desert: Gangster Stories, by Tod Goldberg

"Gangster" stories aren't usually my thing, nor do I like the heat. So why did I love these gangster stories set in the desert so much? Because Tod Goldberg writes with a wit and brutality that I love, place or subject matter be (somewhat) damned. The desert was the perfect place for these stories--hot, arid, lonely. Goldberg's gangsters run the gamut, from low-level thugs to those caught in circumstances that change them. I read this based on (surprise!) the cover and word-of-mouth and ended up buying a copy for my shelf. Goldberg's other offerings are now high on my "to read" list.

Homie, by Danez Smith

Although not meant for me, Danez Smith's poetry has become a "must-buy." He is brazen and bold, putting words to the world of a queer, Black, HIV+ man. Written about friendships and for his friends following the loss of one of them, this collection is often hard to read and always enlightening. I marked so many passages I might as well have copied the entire collection into my notebook. Poetry is such a personal thing, more so than other writing, I think. But if you want to try a collection, try some of Smith's. Don't Call Us Dead is one of my prized collections.

Sidelined: Sports, Culture and Being a Woman in America, by Julie DiCaro

Oh boy. The title of this one pretty much says it all. Enlightening and maddening, sports journalist DiCaro puts an elegant pen to some of the historic and current horrors of being a woman in the field. I knew it was bad, but fuck Barstool Sports to the ends of the earth. I would like to say that I'm amazed people like that exist, but I'm not. This quote pretty much sums it up: "There is no safe space for women in sports media." You could probably end that sentence after "in sports." Likely even after "for women." Read the book, it's stellar work.

GOOD READS EVEN IF MY SOCKS REMAINED UP

If I Disappear, by Eliza Jane Brazier

If you're a fan of mysteries based on true crime podcasts, this one may be for you. Sera is just such a fan and since her divorce she's spent most of her time listening to Murder, She Spoke. She's obsessed to the point that the "disappearance" of the podcast's host sends her off on her own hunt to figure out what happened to Rachel.

Enter creepy hometown in Northern California called Happy Camp, and Rachel's equally odd and strangely unworried family. While some of the plot involved in Sera's quest stretches the bounds of possibility, it's all in furtherance of the mystery I wanted to see unfold. On the whole an entertaining read that kept me turning pages and wondering who the most suspicious and least-trustworthy of all the characters would turn out to be.

Milk Blood Heat, by Dantiel W. Moniz

I very much enjoyed this set of short stories by Dantiel Moniz, which happens to be her debut. A Florida native, her stories are also set there. I've never been to Florida and we all know the "Florida Man" jokes, but I always have a keen interest in stories set in Florida. It's almost as though there's no limit to what story can be told in Florida. 

It's hard to describe this collection other than that they are stories of people, mostly women and young, who are facing an issue or adversity and/or trying to understand who they are. White/Black friendships, the loss of a child (resulting in the mother seeing parts of her baby everywhere), the stories range so much they are hard to put in one box. Which I love, because if I don't connect with one I know something vastly different is next. This collection sucked me in from the start, as two young girls, one white the other Black, forge their relationship as "blood sisters" by cutting their palms and mixing their blood with milk to drink it. 

UNDONE BY PANDEMIC BRAIN (MY ONGOING EXCUSE)

The Ocean House, by Mary-Beth Hughes

I'm something of a sucker for interconnected stories and this cover rocks. The publicity materials cite this as "an exquisite world of complicated family tales on the Jersey Shore," so I was all-in. Unfortunately, it lost me quickly. I'm not sure if it was me or the writing (though taking a quick peek at other ratings tells me it's not all me), but I did not connect with Hughes's prose at all. I love complicated family tales, so I would like to give this one another go, but I'm not burning to get to it.

THE THREE MRS. GREYS, by Shelly Ellis

Cool cover, author of color, fun premise: three women believe they are the only wife of wealthy businessman Cyrus Grey until he's shot and comatose in the hospital. I was expecting a thriller with a little soap (a little I can take), but this was a bit over the top in the drama department for me. I might have pushed through were it not for the staggering overuse of the exclamation point. Hot tip: USE THEM SPARINGLY. If at all. It felt like every line of dialogue had one and I just couldn't do it. I tapped out early. 

FRIENDS DON'T LET FRIENDS REVIEW THEIR BOOKS

I try not to review books written by friends. Which is a shame, not because anyone is missing out on what I think, but because my friends are fantastic writers and the one or two people who visit this space might become a reader of the work if they aren't already. But such reviewing is fraught with danger. How objective can one be? If you review one pal's book and not another's, does the non-reviewee take any message from that fact (spoiler alert: they should not, other than my own laziness)?

All this is preface to a big "However,..." I recently took a hiatus from "formal" reviewing, which means I am, for the first time in a loooong time, free to read whatever the hell I want, including titles that have been on my shelf for years (I like that I can blame some of this on reviewing, ha). Just my luck, new books from two of my favorite people recently published. The third has been waiting at the top of my stack since late last year and I was all kermit-flailing about reading it and sharing all three with you. Let's dig in.

TRICKY, by Josh Stallings

Josh has one of the more imposing presences and biggest hearts of anyone you'll ever meet, and he can write just about anything. He's penned three gritty Moses Maguire books, a 70s heist/caper, and a fantastic memoir. I'd been hearing great things about his latest, Tricky, and couldn't wait to dive in. It may be my favorite of a stellar bunch of titles. 

Full of heart, grit and important social issues, Tricky starts full bore, with LAPD  Homicide Detective Niels Madsen inserting himself in a standoff between two officers and a developmentally disabled man named Cisco. Cisco is about to take a bullet as he's standing over a dead body while holding a gun. Everyone is convinced Cisco killed his roommate, David, particularly when they learn he is a cunning killer who was in prison for murder by age fourteen. 

But is Cisco still that stone-cold assassin? Many think his current state is an act he's undertaken since suffering a beating several years ago. Niels isn't so sure, but the risk of being conned by Cisco is potentially disastrous. Stallings has written Tricky in honor of his intellectually disabled son and it's obvious Dylan made sure he got it right. A fun, intense, thoughtful read that takes off from the get-go, Tricky is a blast.

TWO IN THE HEAD, by Eric Beetner

When I crack the cover of one of Eric's books I know I'm in for a ride that will require a seatbelt, and Two in the Head (with a fun pun for a title) is no different. It begins with DEA Agent Samantha Whelan coming to after miraculously surviving a car bomb meant to take her out. In addition to two goons, she sees a somewhat familiar figure walking towards her. As it gets closer, she realizes it's none other than herself coming her way, murder in her eyes.

If you think you're goofy on the juice, you're not, it's just Eric being Eric and pushing the envelope every which way. Come to find out Samantha is not the straightest of DEA arrows and has been playing both sides, working a little here and there for powerful drug dealers Calder and Rizzo. Things started getting a little too sticky when Samantha became engaged to the DA trying to take Calder and Rizzo down. The car bomb was a sign she's become too big a liability.

This is a fun setup no matter how you slice it, but Eric takes it a few steps further (natch) and uses the "splitting" of Samantha's persona to amp up the fun and the action. Once Samantha split (into Samantha and Sam), so did the good and bad sides of her personality. Samantha can now do no wrong, not even swearing, breaking the speed limit or parking impolitely (HELL ON EARTH). The other Samantha, "Sam," is just the opposite and has not a shred of humanity left. It's a literal race between good and evil as the Sams try to save and/or kill those who oppose them. 

I'm not schmaltzy, but Two in the Head has one of the best proposal scenes ever. Along with clever chapter titles (for which I'm always a sucker), action, and interesting themes on what it means to be good, bad and shades of both, this one is two great kicks in the head. 

REVENGE OF THE WIDOW MALMON, edited by Kate and Dan Malmon

Several years ago, authors stood in long lines for hours for the chance to pen a short story about the death of the crime fiction community's beloved mensch Dan Malmon. The best slice-and-dicers were put together in an anthology edited by Dan and his wife Kate and Killing Malmon was born. The proceeds from the book were donated to the Multiple Sclerosis Society.

Not one to sit around and mourn her lesser half, Kate went on a rampage to avenge her murdered love, and Revenge of the Widow Malmon was born. The ton-of-fun collection grabbed me from the jump with the opening to Jordan Harper's Sing Her Song:

The old convertible sitting in the cop shop impound lot still has streaks of dried blood down the side of the door...So much of Dan left there for her to clean. 

Harper's entry is followed by a wide variety of offerings, including those from Jennifer Hillier, Sean Chercover, Nikki Dolson, S.A. Cosby and Joe Clifford, to name but a few. I hate to even put this in writing, but my favorite may be that of Ed Aymar.  In The Dead, Kate kills all the men in the world over 18 to avenge Dan and women create a better society, reshaping laws and actually taking care of each other. It sounds heavy, but it's also got great Magnum, P.I. humor. What could be better, death and great 80s television?

Again, all the profits benefit the Multiple Sclerosis Society, so even if you think Ed is weird and Dan refused to hug you last time you saw him, do this for Kate. 

EVERYTHING IS FINE :: Vince Granata

A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and is republished here with permission.

Vince Granata was four when his parents brought triplets home from the hospital. As the family legend goes, thrilled to have siblings, Vince stuck his head in his father's open car window and declared, "This is the best day of my life." Granata was 27 when he got the call that his brother Tim had killed their mother.

Granata's heartbreaking memoir, Everything Is Fine, recounts the years leading up to Claudia Granata's death at her son's hands and the aftermath that left Vince, his siblings and his father with differing scars from the same horrific wound. It is the story of a warm, loving family, yet also one of American tragedy. Granata demonstrates how woefully inadequate mental health care and historically deadly clashes between law enforcement and the mentally ill left his mother fighting for her son's life, yet afraid to call authorities for help.

Granata deals with his traumas through the memoir, but also uses it to educate readers on a misunderstood disease process. Signs of Tim's schizophrenia began in high school, "on an atomic level, a single cell, something misfiring, an electron hitting the wrong synapse, a chemical imbalance slowly putrefying his brain." The progression to demonic delusions is harrowing in hindsight, but in order to inform readers about the terror of the disease, Granata had to "show... the horror it wrought" and the boy it swallowed. Painful on a multitude of levels, Granata's work is thought-provoking and important. It elegantly humanizes a man who has done the most inhumane thing to those he loves most. 

LITTLE AND OFTEN :: Trent Preszler

A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and is republished here with permission.

Trent Preszler, born and raised on a farm, longed to live in New York since watching The Muppets Take Manhattan in a 1986 Faith, S.Dak., theater. He made the dream a reality: he earned two degrees at Cornell and, then, as CEO of Bedell Cellars, created the merlot served at Barack Obama's inauguration. Yet his successes were haunted by his estranged father Leon's words, "You ain't never gonna be man enough." In Preszler's superb memoir, Little and Often, the improbable happens--the non-craftsman builds a canoe from scratch and makes peace with his demons. 

Disowned 14 years earlier, Preszler is stunned when his dad has nice words for him during a rare trip home. Leon dies shortly thereafter, oddly leaving Trent his toolbox. Recalling a fond memory of a time in a fishing boat, Preszler somewhat inadvisably decides to build a strip canoe, following directions from a decades-old paperback he discovers at the lumberyard.

The build begins about as well as expected as Preszler, whose friends think macramé might be more appropriate, rushes in and learns on the fly. But using his father's tools and discovering more about the churchgoing Vietnam veteran and championship rodeo rider helps Preszler understand his life's traumas. Readers learn along with Preszler as he works; he thoughtfully doles out historical details over the course of the boat's construction, as he reveals the family's background. Insightful and humorous, Preszler's memoir is a deep dive to find the father he longed for and the confidence to be his own man.

TWO-CENT TUESDAY

Below are a few somewhat brief $.02 opinions about books I've read or listened to recently but don't have time, inclination, or opportunity to review in full. Their appearance in this recurring piece generally has little to nothing to do with merit. Many of these books I enjoyed as much or more than those that got the full court press. I hope you'll consider one or two for your own TBR stack if they strike your fancy whether they struck mine or not.

BOOKS THAT BEAT MY PANDEMIC BRAIN

Winter Counts, by David Heska Wanbli Weiden

Winter Counts is a knockout piece of crime fiction featuring a Native American protagonist written by a Native American author. Which is reason enough to pick this up, since Native authors are vastly under-represented and under-appreciated. Weiden's debut has been shortlisted for the Edgar Award for Best First Novel, and I wouldn't be surprised if he took home the prize. Set on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota, Winter Counts centers on local enforcer Virgil Wounded Horse and his efforts to combat a local drug issue and save a family member in the process. Fantastic stuff and I can't wait for more DHWW and Virgil.

Group, by Christie Tate

For whatever reason there has been a spate of therapy books in the non-fiction realm lately and I am here for it. Others I've read (and greatly enjoyed) were written from the psychologist/psychiatrist perspective, so this was a fresh take. Told by Christie Tate, it was a story I related to in many ways, as Tate was a top student in her law school yet plagued by sadness and thoughts of her own death. Her wonderful therapist, Dr. Rosen, semi-forces her to join a psychotherapy group, and the result is a fabulous and often hilarious read.

Dear Child, by Romy Hausmann

A nifty take on an abduction story, Dear Child begins with a young woman unconscious and hospitalized in Munich following a hit-and-run. With her is a small child, Hannah, who tells a fairly creepy story of their existence and calls the woman "mama." But is the woman her mother? What of the brother Hannah says they left behind to clean stains on the carpet? And is "mama" really Lena, a girl who went missing 13 years ago? Told from alternating perspectives, Dear Child is a super fun ride. 

Little Cruelties, by Liz Nugent

Liz Nugent rocks. And that's not a pun on Ted Nugent, because we all know he's a moronic dick. Little Cruelties is told from the perspectives of three brothers--William, Luke and Brian Drumm. They are all present at a funeral. The catch is that one of them is in the casket and you don't find out which one until the end. Nugent is masterful at setting forth their intertwined lives and intimacies, each with his own version of events, strengths and frailties. Full of mind games and psychological maneuverings, it's a fast-paced gem.

PANDEMIC-BRAIN VICTIMS

Where The Edge Is, by Grainne Murphy

Gosh this one started out great, and I think I will eventually go back to it. A road in Ireland subsides, trapping five people inside a bus. As the rescue goes forth, we begin to learn about those involved. I was transfixed. Then all of a sudden I wasn't. One section started getting deep into historical issues and my pandemic-riddled brain just wasn't in for it at the time. But I love the cover and the premise and the beginning, so I will give this one another go one day. 

Between Two Kingdoms, by Suleika Jaouad

Oh boy. I was really looking forward to this memoir, mostly for the roadtrip-with-dog that was to follow the author's devastating cancer diagnosis when she had just graduated from college and was on the precipice of a new love and dream career. I hated that I wasn't enjoying it. I kept plugging along, thinking I was being an asshole for judging this woman who was going through such hell. But then. An event relating to her dog. Huh. Maybe I'm not off-base. But I'll give her yet another benefit of the doubt. Then, NOPE. A second event with animals, this one I couldn't overlook, even when someone went through what she did. She's a self-absorbed jerk who spent most of the book proving it and in the end didn't really replace that sentiment with anything redeeming. Bummer. (Of course, your mileage  may vary.)

THE FUTURE IS YOURS :: Dan Frey

A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and is republished here with permission.

Dan Frey (The Retreat) does a bang-up job imagining a scenario in which computers can communicate with their future selves and the impact that could have on society on a variety of levels. Cleverly told entirely via documentation (e-mails, blog posts, texts, reports, etc.) to avoid spoilers,
The Future Is Yours is an "opposites attract" tale of friendship set in the thought-provoking and cutthroat world of technology.

Ben Boyce, a confident connection-maker with a gift for wooing venture capitalists, and Adhvan "Adhi" Chaudry, an intellectual genius with woeful people skills, become best friends while rooming together at Stanford University. The story begins with an e-mail sent by Ben to Adhi from a year in the future--immediately proving Stanford whiffed by not backing Adhi's Ph.D. thesis proposing communication with the future using quantum computing.

The engrossing road from college to rolling out their product, a computer-type unit called The Future, is centered around the transcript of a 2021 congressional hearing where the legality of The Future is to be decided. Despite a subpoena, Adhi is mysteriously absent from the hearing. Frey ups the suspense by putting limitations on The Future: it can see only into a one-year future window, to a reality that cannot be altered.

Unsurprisingly, data from The Future becomes problematic. As Adhi struggles with morality issues, Ben drives passionately ahead, their friendship, relationships and the future of the world at risk. Frey's work as a screenwriter shines through in form and substance in this gripping work of science fiction

SPITE :: Simon McCarthy-Jones

A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and has been republished here with permission.

A "strong" definition of the word spite, an act "where you harm another person and harm yourself in the process," does not leave much room for positivity. Yet the subtitle of Simon McCarthy-Jones's fascinating new work, Spite: The Upside of Your Dark Side, more than hints at how spite can be a constructive force. An associate professor of psychology and neuropsychology at Dublin's Trinity College, McCarthy-Jones has multiple degrees, papers and books to support his ideas about spite. That doesn't mean he declines the use of cinema's Terminator or Batman for occasional help explaining them.

Spite "runs deep," found in ancient myth and folklore, and most of us are familiar with its negative connotations. Yet if spite has no purpose since everyone loses, why was it not weeded out by natural selection long ago? McCarthy-Jones uses plain language, movies, humor and several economic "games" to "shine a light" on what he convincingly puts forth as an important tool for preventing injustice.

In the Ultimatum Game, player one is told player two in the room next door has $10 to share as they see fit. Player one can accept or reject player two's offer, but a rejection means both players get nothing. This seemingly simple game and its variations (the Dictator Game, the Joy of Destruction Game, etc.) are used ingeniously by McCarthy-Jones to explain both valid and improbable human behaviors, including voting against one's own best interests. Entertaining and illuminating, Spite explains how a society that depends on cooperation requires spite to thrive. 

BROKEN HORSES :: Brandi Carlile

A version of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness and is republished here with permission.

Cross-genre musical artist Brandi Carlile seemed to burst on the scene following a multiple Grammy-winning evening in 2019. The most nominated woman at the 61st annual awards (six), Carlile blew audiences away with her Song of the Year performance, "The Joke," an anthem for those who struggle to fit into the world's divisive molds. Thanks to Carlile's intimate memoir, Broken Horses, the story of how the "overnight sensation" struggled and strived for years can be known beyond the fans who have followed her religiously even prior to her first studio album in 2005.

Carlile's childhood in Washington State was marked by alcoholism, poverty, religion, health problems, instability (14 different homes) and, as the first-born grandchild, her own "inflated sense of self-importance and burden of perceived responsibility." That said, her family was warm, close, musical and filled with characters that lay a good storytelling foundation. But it is Carlile's sense of self and her ability to be deeply vulnerable and introspective before an audience that allow her to plumb the depths of her upbringing and forge her trail to center stage.

A brilliant lyricist, Carlile adapts her gift to the long form without missing a beat. Her style is conversational, whether the topic is music, charity work, motherhood (Carlile and her wife have two daughters), LGBTQ+ rights, Barack Obama or Carlile's beloved "gay pen pal father figure," Elton John. Overflowing with thoughtfulness, wicked humor, photographs and song lyrics, Broken Horses is an epic sit around the campfire.