Tag: fiction (Page 9 of 12)

Stardust is one of Neil Gaiman’s most delightful stories. It’s the tale of Tristan Thorn who finds himself journeying beyond the small village of Wall and into Faerie. Tristan is chasing a fallen star, which he hopes to bring back to the girl he hopes to marry. Miss Victoria Forester believes she’s sent Tristan on a fool’s errand but he does indeed find the star. And she’s broken her leg in the fall.

This story dances like sunlight through the forest trees on a warm summer evening. It is magical and delightful. There’s a bit of danger, a lot of adventure, and some excellent characters.

The events that follow transpired many years ago. Queen Victoria was on the throne of England, but she was not yet the black-clad widow of Windsor: she had apples in her cheeks and a spring in her step, and Lord Melbourne often had cause to upbraid, gently, the young queen for her flightiness. She was, as yet, unmarried, although she was very much in love.

Mr. Charles Dickens was serializing his novel Oliver Twist; Mr. Draper had just taken the first photograph of the moon, freezing her pale face on cold paper; Mr. Morse had recently announced a way of transmitting messages down metal wires.

Had you mentioned magic or Faerie to any of them, they would have smiled at you disdainfully, except, perhaps for Mr. Dickens, at the time a young man, and beardless. He would have looked at you wistfully.

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Stardust is perfect for fans of Neil Gaiman, also anyone who enjoyed The Midnight Library or Eleanor Oliphant. There’s whimsy, magic, and a story of growing up.

The Vignes sisters are the talk of the town: good family, attractive. Stella is a helper. She’s smart, quiet, and going places. Desiree is cheeky and sure of herself. They are dedicated to each other, and one day disappear.

The morning one of the lost twins returned to Mallard, Lou LeBon ran to the diner to break the news, and even now, many years later, everyone remembers the shock of sweaty Lou pushing through the glass doors, chest heaving, neckline darkened by his own effort.

first line, chapter one, The Vanishing Half

Mallard (fictional but based on real places) is a strange town that’s not on any maps. It was founded by Alphonse Decuir in 1848 with the sole purpose of being a place “for men like him, who would never be accepted as white but refused to be treated like Negroes. ” It’s a town that values lightness. And the Vignes twins are Decuir’s great-great-great-granddaughters. Creamy skinned, hazel eyes, wavy hair. He’d be very proud.

I heard Brit Bennett on CBC talking about the novel, and race, identity, and the re-invention of self. It was a super interesting conversation. In the novel, the Vignes twins run away. Desiree because she’s always wanted to get out of small town Mallard. And Stella because her mother has pulled her out of school to clean houses and help with the family’s finances. For both girls, Mallard becomes an unacceptable place to be. The split between the twins happens in New Orleans when Stella goes to work, passing as white, and then marries her boss. She leaves Desiree in the dark for decades. Meanwhile Desiree has a daughter Jude, is forced to flee an abusive marriage, and settles back in Mallard, with her daughter is shunned for her skin colour.

I recently read an article “So What’s the Difference Between Race and Ethnicity?” with Jennifer DeVere Brody, Stanford University’s Director of the Center for Comparative Studies in Race & Ethnicity. To understand the terms, you need to understand how they were historically used, and that these concepts have changed over time, but that both terms are about people’s relationship to power. Brit Bennett exposes all sorts of power struggles in this novel.

There are so many layers to this story, and to the stories of Stella and Desiree’s daughters. What it’s like to grow up white and privileged vs. black and in a town that values lightness. What it’s like to be a woman in the 60s, 70s, 80s. What beliefs we inherit and what acceptance or denial does to our identity.

Brit Bennett is an amazing writer crafting a novel about racism, politics, and all the ways we corrupt our society. The Vanishing Half is a worthwhile read.

One of the staff at Vancouver Kidsbooks mentioned they had signed copies and I decided on a whim to buy the book. I have heard of Kazuo Ishiguro and know he’s a great writer. But I hadn’t read any of his books. I haven’t even seen the acclaimed film versions of The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go. Obviously I need to get with the program.

Description: This is the story of Klara, an Artificial Friend (AF), who is waiting in a store window to be purchased by her forever family. Klara, although a second-generation model, is incredibly observant and quickly comes to understand empathy, love, and the basics of other human emotions and drivers of behaviour.

Klara is eventually purchased by Josie, a 13-year-old girl who absolutely adores her. But like all teen crushes, there’s some waxing and waving.

What I absolutely LOVED about this book was that very little is explained. As a reader, you are dropped into a modern, futuristic world and have to read between the lines about what’s happening culturally and politically, how AFs fit into the picture, where the cognitive biases lie. The book asks you to stretch, but not too far beyond comfort.

Klara is a fabulous narrator. Can you call an artificial being genuine? I found her so charming. And I found many aspects of this modern world alarming.

Do you believe in the human heart? I don’t mean simply the organ, obviously. I’m speaking in the poetic sense. The human heart. Do you think there is such a thing? Something that makes each of us special and individual?

Josie’s father to klara, on whether klara could truly learn Josie, not just her mannerisms, but her heart, page 215

This is the perfect read for someone who likes technology yet remains wary. The Matrix meets The Shallows. I feel like this is an iconic read, a true culture trip, that I will go back to in order to unravel the layers.

Description: A quiet and unnerving book about an American ex-cop who moves to rural Ireland and finds himself wary of the neighbours.

This is a great literary suspense novel, and the subtle Irish humour reminded me a lot of my time living in Ireland.

Cal Hooper has purchased a fixer-upper outside a small village on the west coast Ireland called Ardnakelty. (It’s a fictional location but goodness it feels real.) He’s enjoying retirement, likes his neighbour who chews the fat, and is otherwise enjoying himself until he gets caught up in the disappearance of a village teen. Cal’s cop instincts kick in and he starts investigating, and ignoring the advice of his neighbour to let it be. No good comes of it, but I don’t want to spoil the story.

The Searcher is lacking great thriller/suspense action but it makes you uneasy. I think that’s an even greater feat of suspense writing.

Favourite Moment: Trey is a nearby neighbour kid who’s taken to hanging around Cal’s. Cal’s fire arm license comes through and he teaches the kid how to shoot a rabbit. They make a stew and bond.

The perfect read for those who like Night Boat to Tangier, The Woman in the Window by AJ Finn, or some of the quieter Stephen King novels.

There’s something about The Midnight Library that reminded me of Daisy Jones and the Six and The Glass Hotel.

The Midnight Library is the story of Nora Seed. She’s feeling down and out. Nora loses her job, loses her piano student, loses her cat. It’s a bad day in a line of bad days. Nora decides to end her life but instead of a straight line to heaven or hell, she ends up at the midnight library where the librarian Mrs. Elm (who she hasn’t seen since elementary school) helps her find a better life. The library is full of books, all of which are the outcome of different life decisions.

Nora can see what life is like if she’d followed her swimming dreams to the Olympics, if she’d stayed in the band with her brother, if she’d gone to Norway to study glaciers.

Each life offers a lesson. Each life offers the opportunity for Nora to live out her life in a different reality. Of course there’s a lesson here, but the novel does not come across as schmultzy. It’s a fun, fast-moving read about regrets and the choices we make.

Emma Donoghue is acclaimed author of Room, which I never read. But her writing prowess is well known and I was looking forward to reading this novel set in Ireland in 1918.

Description: Nurse Julia Power finds herself on duty (alone) in the maternity ward. It’s the height of the great flu. Beds are full. She’s managing 3 women, in basically a broom cupboard, and begs for some help. She is left with Bridie Sweeney, who has basically been pulled off the street by a nun and told to help. Thankfully Bridie is a quick learner, and she and Julie become fast friends during a hectic 3-day period where they lose patients, help others birth their babies, and somehow manage to help the only female doctor evade police.

The characters and setting are vividly portrayed and I heard Emma Donoghue interviewed on CBC talking about the research she did into medical practices in Ireland at the time. Fascinating. And frightening.

In 1918, Ireland is post-war but the tragedy is still felt and now the flu is another heart-wrenching reminder of how quickly loved ones can be lost. The women giving birth and attending are so young. Nurse Power is the senior at 30 years old.

I really enjoyed this read.

Favourite Moment: There are many touching moments in this book and I fear that by mentioning any details, I’ll ruin it for someone. So instead, the book opens with Nurse Power pedalling her bicycle to the hospital but taking side routes and the tram as a way to evade the scolding eyes of her superiors who frown on women cyclists. Ah, what a time.

The perfect read for fans of Emma Donoghue and anyone who watches Call the Midwife. If you like Emily St. John Mandel (Station Eleven) or Jeannette Walls (The Glass Castle) then this is kind of between the two. Pandemic meets family hardships, with a hint of humour and levity.