THE BEE STING – Paul Murray

Booker season continues with Paul Murray’s The Bee Sting Western Lane (Farrar, Straus & Giroux 2023 – thanks for the advanced copy!) – a chunky tragicomic family saga set in post-crash Ireland that boosts a unique approach to storytelling.  The first section of the novel is divided into four parts – one for each family member – and told in third person.  The second section of the novel, still from the POV of the family members, shifts to second person.  The third and final section is brief and jumps from multiple POVs, including those outside of the family. These are quick, jolting flashes of moments, like footsteps in the woods, the beat of a heart, or the pull of trigger.  (I’ve thought for years that the book selections echo books from the prior year’s list – this makes me think of Trust.) 

The Barnes family used to be filthy rich. Dickie took over the lucrative car business, married the beautiful Imelda, and fathered two children – Cass and PJ.  Their lives were seemingly perfect. Then the crash happened, and the family-owned business is going under. Cass, in her final year of school before University, is being swallowed by her own teenage woes. PJ, 12, spends his days playing in the woods and helping his father build the Bunker.  When his dad’s problems at work spill over to bruise PJ, he decides to run away to stay with an online friend – a dangerous relationship that the reader recognizes long before PJ. Breathless and beautiful Imelda takes the reader on an unpunctuated journey into the past, to a poor childhood in a violent home where her mother dies of cancer, to when she first meets the Barnes family and how she ends up with Dickie.  And Dickie, the man who never wanted to take over the family business. When tragedy struck, he became riddled with guilt and left not only his greatest love behind, but his truth. He married Imelda, took over the business, and became a father. But the crash is killing the business and he’s being extorted by a beautiful stranger whose claws have touched the entire family. He spends his days building a bomb shelter to protect his family in the event it all goes to shit.

Dickie walks in a fog of guilt, madness, fear, desire and shame. Imelda walks in a fog of grit, guilt, loss, desire and shame. Cass walks in a fog of confusion, anger, desire and shame. PJ walks in a fog of loneliness, confusion, fear, and shame. And when the ghosts and the fog bring them all together in the woods that have marked them all, their lives will forever change.

While I found it a bit long-winded, and I don’t think the objective with the lack of punctuation in Imelda’s section was successful, this is a solid read from a list that has been rather lackluster.

Read this book.

Booker count: 6 of 13

**One of the 2023 judges is a Shakespeare scholar. I’ve decided to keep track of the novels that name drop Shakespeare or his works.  Cass is studying Macbeth making this 4 of 6.

WESTERN LANE – Chetna Maroo

Booker season continues with Chetna Maroo’s Western Lane (Farrar, Straus & Giroux 2023). This slim novella packs both a powerful punch and a tender hug – all with a backdrop of squash.

Eleven-year-old Gopi has been playing squash for as long as she can remember, but when her mother dies, her father’s grief leads to an obsession with the sport.  He never forces Gopi or her older sisters to practice, but their own grief and love for their father has them on the courts at Western Lane every day.  Much like her father finds an escape in their training, Gopi finds an escape on the courts.  Her sisters grieve differently, and they don’t pour their anger and grief into their swings the way she does. Gopi is talented, and her grief combined with her father’s new obsession of training her, has made her a formidable player.  Plans are made for her to attend a tournament, and that tournament and the family’s preparations for it are what move the story forward.  But this isn’t just a story about squash, despite all the squash being played; this is a story of a young girl who has lost her mother and who feels like she’s losing her father.  This is the story of three sisters who miss their mother.  This is the story of a man who lost his wife and doesn’t know how to raise his three daughters.  This is a story of loneliness, family, and growing up.  It’s never just about the game.

Surprisingly, this has been my favorite read from the longlist thus far. It’s simple and delicate, and just beautiful.

Read this book.

Booker Count: 5 of 13

OLD GOD’S TIME – Sebastian Barry

Booker season continues with Sebastian Barry’s Old God’s Time (Viking 2023). Barry is no stranger to the longlist – out of 9 novels, he’s been longlisted for 5 (2 of which made it to the shortlist – we’ll see what the fates hold for this one). It’s a very prettily told story with – a deep dive into a character study where the plot gets a bit murky on purpose. Everything in Old God’s Time is on purpose – the rhythms, the punctuation, the word choice, the confusion – Barry proves himself quite the mastermind. And while I can appreciate the skill that went into this work, it just wasn’t for me. To be fair, there were initially parts of the novel that reminded me of Backman’s A Man Called Ove, and I was disappointed to not feel any connection or affection for Tom Kettle; Old God’s Time is certainly not a hearthug.

The novel rages like a storm, flashing through the past, stirring up ghosts, and leaving both you and recently retired Detective Tom Kettle questioning what is real, what is imagined, and if we’re all a little mad. At the core of the novel is the Catholic priest sexual abuse scandals in Ireland and a man whose life and love were forever scarred by the abuse. Tom has his own history with abuse, but his wife June was raped from the age of 6 until 12 by a priest while the nuns looked the other way. Trigger warning – these memories are gulps of air and screams on the pages. Unable to shake a past that destroyed her, June dies by suicide. “His wife. The epic woman. Who had survived everything except survival.”  By the time Tom has retired, both of his children have also died. He is alone with his ghosts and his memories – at least until two young detectives show up with an old unsolved case and questions.

It’s a novel of loneliness, grief, regret, revenge, and a love you’d die for – drenched and swollen with the rains until the truth becomes blurry and we all become a bit mad. Had I been in a different mood, I may have enjoyed it more – but even with it not resonating with me, I can’t fault the art behind the work.

Booker count: 4 of 13

**One of the 2023 judges is a Shakespeare scholar. I’ve decided to keep track of the novels that name drop Shakespeare or his works. This one has references out the wazoo from Dracula to Poe to The Bridges of Madison County to Alice in Wonderland. I think there’s like a Shakespeare reference, and I just missed it. There is a Hamlet cigarillo, but that brand is named for a famous Cuban cigar roller and not the bard’s work. I’m leaving it at 3 for now.

A SPELL OF GOOD THINGS – Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀ 

Booker season continues with Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀ ’s A Spell of Good Things (Knopf 2023). The novel is Wole Soyinka (without the bitter wit) meets The Girl with the Louding Voice – full of political corruption, a hunger for both food and education, and a sharp division between classes while still showing, quite literally, that we all bruise the same. It was just another okay read – there were many suitable and more worthy publications from the past year for the longlist, but no one asked me to be a judge. *Shrugs*

The novel alternates between Eniola and Wuralola. Eniola is a school boy who works for a tailor, shows his elders respect, and is just waiting for his father to get another job so that he can go to a better school and his family can return to the good life they had when his father’s role as a history teacher was respected by the government.  Now, Eniola is hungry more often than not. He is mocked by his classmates. He is beaten by the school administration because his family cannot pay the tuition on time. He takes his licks without a word, but his younger sister, Busola, a highly intelligent and talented young woman, is quite vocal about the unfair turn her life has taken. After being forced to beg for money, Eniola has an opportunity thrown in his lap; it’s for a corrupt politician, but the money is more than enough for school, food, and even a surprise for Busola.

Wuralola is a child of privilege. Given every opportunity growing up, she’s now a doctor in her first year of practice. She’s working herself to the bone, realizing that life isn’t quite what she thought it would be and wondering if she’s the sort who will simply never be satisfied. Her boyfriend and eventual fiancé, Kunle, is the abusive son of a wealthy man with political aspirations.

Wuralola is losing weight due to stress, the workload at the hospital, pressures by her family, and the increasing violence of the man who swears he loves her. Eniola is losing weight because there is no money to buy any food for his family of four. The use of food is the main way the disparity between the two classes is presented; Wuralola’s hunger is readily fed, whereas Eniola’s is an ache that won’t quit.

The two worlds come crashing together with fatal consequences when Wuralola’s soon-to-be father-in-law announces he is running against Eniola’s new benefactor/boss. Political corruptness will destroy them both. There’s little new or exciting about this novel. Some of the best sections come from secondary characters like Eniola’s and Wuralola’s mothers and those are brief snippets. The switching between Wuralola and Eniola is structured strangely such that by the time you get invested in one story, you’re tossed back in the one you’d already forgotten about. By the end, I was so far removed from the novel and just ready to reach the conclusion.

This may be a harsh review, but it’s not a bad book and I ultimately rated it well. But why, you ask? Because I don’t understand how it was selected for the longlist. It’s perfectly okay, but one of the best books of the year? I just don’t see it, despite it being perfectly fine.

Booker count: 3 of 13

**One of the 2023 judges is a Shakespeare scholar. I’ve decided to keep track of the novels that name drop Willy Shakespeare or his works. This one drops Hamlet, and it’s 3 for 3.

THIS OTHER EDEN – Paul Harding

My second read from the Booker Prize longlist left a bad taste in my mouth.  It wasn’t because of the writing – Paul Harding writes beautifully and with a concise purpose (albeit with a tone that reminds me of works that want to appear smarter and more literary at the sake of losing the actual story-telling aspect), and This Other Eden (W.W. Norton 2023) is a slim novel with pretty words and an intriguing storyline. But that storyline is based on actual events and actual people, and the storyline Harding runs with is the exaggerated and provocative rumors and blatant lies that resulted in the complete destruction of a community.

Harding’s Apple Island is “inspired by” Malaga Island and the mixed-race community that called it home for over a hundred years.  His Benjamin Honey is clearly Benjamin Darling, a former slave who married an Irish woman.  On Apple Island, Blacks, whites, and Indigenous folks live, love, and work side by side.  That was true of Malaga Island as well.

History tells us that the people of Maine were horrified over Malaga Island because it was a mixed-race community, and the mixing of races was “unnatural.”  Articles were published about the depravity of the community, making wild allegations of incest and people living wild and in squalor and sin.  This just wasn’t true, and studies from Malaga show that the inhabitants lived pretty much the same as those on the mainland; they were hardworking and poor, but their community was only a “blight” because of the mixed-race element.  But Harding runs with the incest and the squalor as if it were true.

Now Harding does capture the sense of community regardless of race and the love they all share for each other, but he paints them with the same brush with its false bristles that was used by the government to have them removed from the island in the first place. 

The truth of the matter is that the government and many of the people in Maine did not approve of a mixed race community, wanted the island cleared of this community so that it could be owned by the State and used for tourism purposes, that several members of the island were involuntarily committed to a mental health hospital and were likely sterilized through a eugenics program, (being poor and mixed race means that weren’t worthy of breeding), that several other members of the community were rejected from mainland communities because of their heritage and they just floated around, that Malagite became a racial slur, and that the State finally “apologized” for their actions in 2010.  Harding hits on some of the truth, but it rings hollow.

Based on other reviews, I’m pretty much alone in my dislike of this novel.  But I do not recommend it, and I am disappointed it was longlisted.

Booker count: 2 of 13

PS. The dogs die. ****One of the 2023 judges is a Shakespeare scholar. I’ve decided to keep track of the novels that name drop Willy Shakespeare.  This is the second one that does.

IF I SURVIVE YOU – Jonathan Escoffery

“Tell him – across the expanse of time and distance, as I am telling you now – all that I can’t say to him. Start with the resentment and the feelings of neglect and your resulting recklessness. Recount every injury, every scar you carve into each other. And when you’re finished, and you are certain your father has heard, do what might divert you from the path to self-destruction: forgive yourselves.”

The Booker Prize longlist was released on 8/1, so of course I’m already devouring the ones I can get my hands on.  (I may end up having to purchase some from the UK.) I started with Jonathan Escoffery’s debut If I Survive You (Farrar, Straus and Giroux 2022).  If I Survive You is a series of interconnected stories centering on Trelawny and spidering out to his family.  I thoroughly enjoyed this collection, in particular the cadence that hummed through each story and the reoccurring themes of fathers and sons. There is also a special place in my heart for that “nervous condition” of those who flee (or leave) their homeland and seek to establish roots in another, so even though Trelawny is infuriating at times, I enjoyed him as the center. 

Trelawny’s parents fled Jamica to escape the political violence in Kingston and to give their two young boys a shot at a different life.  In Florida, young Trelawny struggles with his identity. He’s mixed race and doesn’t consider himself Black. He’s also too dark to be white. He hangs with the Hispanics for a bit until they learn he doesn’t speak Spanish and that he has Black blood.  When he graduates, he runs from that melting pot of varying shades of brown and cultures that is Florida to the Midwest.  He gets a degree in literature and returns to the only home and family he has left in the States, his dad and older brother, Delano – two folks with whom his relationship is tenuous at best.  He takes increasingly odd jobs to support himself, his literature degree relatively worthless.

Scattered through out Trelawny’s adventures are his father’s story of leaving Jamica and finding financial success in the wake of Hurricane Andrew, Delano’s attempts to get quick money to fight for custody of his kids and business-related troubles that flow from his desperate attempts, and his cousin, Cukie’s, dangerous relationship with his father. Each story showcases the nervousness of a person who is floating rootless seeking home, family, and comfort.  And often, forgiveness or to forgive.

If I Survive You (and Trelawny) grabs fast and doesn’t let go – it’s a captivating collection of that nervous condition born of being rootless.

Read this book.

Booker Count: 1 of 13 **One of the 2023 judges is a Shakespeare scholar. I’ve decided to keep track of the novels that name drop Willy Shakespeare.  This is one.

THE SUN AND THE VOID – Gabriela Romero Lacruz

Gabriela Romero Lacruz’s The Sun and the Void, Book One of The Warring Gods (Orbit 2023) boasts one of my most favorite covers and a premise that had me chomping at the bit to get lost in this magical world inspired by the history and folklore of South America – a world where two young women become vessels for warring gods as they seek a soft place to land and a place they can call home. Reina is an orphaned half-nozariel – her only hope for happiness and belonging rests with her grandmother, a witch in the employ of an extremely powerful caudillo family in a land where nozariels are banned. Reina begins to prepare as her grandmother’s successor and studies Rahmagut’s, the god of the void, deadly magic.  Eva is from an affluent family in a land where magic is banned, but her father was a valco and magic runs in her blood.  When placed in an impossible position, she makes a choice that will forever alter her life. 

With an astrological event nearing, the seal keeping Rahmagut from the world (a seal put in place by the sun god, Ches) will weaken temporarily and the dark god may be brought forth – an abundance of favor on whomever breaks the seal. Reina needs to break the seal to secure her place within the caudillo and to break her reliance on iridio, a magical substance she needs to survive.  Eva’s desire to break the seal is tied to the man who is both her savior and her destruction.  After quite a bit of bloodshed, a choice will be made that will bring the warring gods new life.

There’s a lot to love in this novel.  It’s reminiscent of Shannon’s The Priory books and Roanhorse’s Black Sun, especially with the importance and use of astrology, there’s a flavor and lyricism to the writing at times, the world and the magic is intriguing, and again – the cover is gorgeous. But as much as I wanted to love it, I couldn’t.  The novel needed a stronger editor to weed out unnecessary bits as well as highly repetitive sections and phrases.  (The use of pallbearer and descriptions of someone following someone like a puppy are used far too many times. Some dialogue is almost word for word repeated, and between different characters.) The characters seem to flail about, running quickly hot and cold in their thoughts, actions and emotions with no clear explanation or justification. They are indecisive not as a personality traits but rather as a way to drive the plot, and it reads far too jarring and flat.  The only character I felt any connection to was Maior, who was a secondary character in this novel but there is potential she’ll take a more leading role in the second.  Also, the fact that Eva’s mentor is burned alive for practicing magic is only given two lines had me aghast.  In short, there are too many words for things that didn’t need them and not enough to build the characters and their motivations.

I’m not sure if I’ll read the second book.

*A big thanks to Orbit Books for the gifted novel.

HOW TO TURN INTO A BIRD – María José Ferrada

“One side of love, an undervalued one, has to do with letting the other person walk their own path.”

María José Ferrada’s How to Turn into a Bird (translated by Elizabeth Bryer, Tin House 2022) echoes with the same tender ache of growing up as Le Petit Prince and Peter Pan, and it has just as much heart. Originally published in Spanish as Hombre del Cartel, the novel follows 12-year-old Miguel – a young boy whose uncle, Ramón, has decided to live on the platform under a Coca-Cola billboard sign.

Miguel’s mother is angry, and while we get glimpses as to the hardships she’s faced that made her this way, she’s painted through the eyes of a child who finds more warmth and love with his aunt and uncle next door.  When Ramón gets a job keeping an eye on the billboard and decides to move up there, Miguel is more intrigued than anything else.  He joins his aunt in visiting his beloved uncle in the nest he’s built, surrounded by the beer bottles that buy him the silence he craves.  Meanwhile, society (and Miguel’s mother) are in a tizzy because it’s not “normal” or what folks in polite society do.  Ramón’s willingness and desire to break away from what is acceptable becomes a point to be addressed at the neighbor council meeting.  They will not tolerate it, much like they will not tolerate the children from the shanties coming to Children’s Day.  Miguel finds himself torn between his mother and the neighborhood in the “life down below” and his aunt and Ramón in “life up above” – as much as he tries to strike a balance, decisions will be made.

It’s a beautiful book with the same lyricism and brightness as songbirds in flight.

Read this book.

FIREKEEPER’S DAUGHTER – Angeline Boulley

“When someone dies, everything about them becomes past tense. Except for the grief. Grief stays in the present.”

“Love is a promise. And promises you don’t keep are the worst lies of all.”

“My nose twitches at a greasy sweetness. Familiar. Vanilla and mineral oil. WD-40. Someone used it to clean the gun. More scents: pine, damp moss, skunky sweat, and cat pee… But then terror grips my heart again. The gun. Back to my face. Mom. She won’t survive my death. One bullet will kill us both… I am thinking of my mother when the blast changes everything.”

Angeline Boulley’s debut, Firekeeper’s Daughter (Henry Holt 2021), is Beartown meets Legendborn meets Demon Copperhead.  As such, it’s no one wonder it was also a top read for me.  With Legendborn’s angry teenage grief, Demon’s drugs and shattered communities, and Beartown’s us vs. them mentality, hockey, and crime, this heart hug of novel hit all my soft spots and made my eyes burn.  I know I’m late to the game, but this was a phenomenal debut.

Daunis Fontaine “began as a secret, and then a scandal” is biracial, with an Ojibwe father whose name was left off her birth certificate and a fragile white mother from an affluent family who has never quite recovered from the events that transpired when she became pregnant at 16.  Her half-brother, Levi, carries her father’s name and it was Levi’s mother who received all the things her mother had been promised.  The first man to break Daunis’s heart was her father.

Daunis walks between the two worlds, not quite belonging to either.  When her grandmother becomes ill, she alters her plans so that she can attend college closer to home.  When tragedy strikes and she witnesses the murder of her best friend, she finds herself elbows deep as a CI for the FBI, working closely with the handsome Cherokee posing as a high school hockey player, as they fight against time to figure out where the meth is coming from and who is responsible.

With the bodies and secrets piling up, Daunis walks a line of helping while still protecting her heart, her family, and her people.  Channeling the strength and courage as both an Anishinaabe kwe and her own mother’s daughter, Daunis is a voice to be reckoned with. 

Read this novel. 

A DANGEROUS BUSINESS – Jane Smiley

Jane Smiley’s A Dangerous Business (Knopf 2022) was published in December of last year, but I just got around to reading the uncorrected proof the publisher sent.  I know Smiley is a phenomenal writer – Horse Heaven and A Thousand Acres are two powerful novels that highlight that talent – but A Dangerous Business was a complete disappointment. It appears cobbled together from other storylines, which gives it a disjointed feel, and the plot and characters are underdeveloped. Such a bummer because the premise with Smiley’s talent should have made this a five-star read. What happened?  I’m flummoxed because I appear in the minority with this one.

Set in 1851, the novel follows a young prostitute who, armed with Poe stories and with the help of a female sex worker who only services other females, investigates the disappearance and murders of other prostitutes while juggling a series of clients who range in age, with the youngest being 14, and who are all suspects.

This could have been great. Add about two hundred more pages, give Eliza more substance and flesh, smooth the edges of the cobbled bits so it doesn’t read like paragraphs pulled from other works in progress, and definitely develop Eliza’s relationships with Jean and Olive more.  Instead, it’s a skeleton and an unsatisfying read.