I liked this book, but I think I expected to like it more. It seemed to be a little imbalanced as historical fiction, taking up long passages of dialogue to explain history. The author explains it well, but these conversations became such burdens of 'telling and not showing' that I became restless to move on. The characters are wonderful, though, and I did learn a bit about Cuban history. About 2/3 of the way through, though, the action and revelations really geared up and the end of the book flew by. I just wish some of the first 2/3 were as propulsive.

This is not a book for everyone. I can't quite thrust this book into your hand and say you'll give it five stars, too. The prose is plain and sparse, but meticulously composed. The author's introduction described his intention to make the book 'hollow,' and I'm not sure what that meant or even what it means after reading it, but I think he succeeded. That may not make sense, but that's kind of the feel of this whole book. There are known things, and things you will never know and must resign yourself to this fact. I was prepared to not like this book because there were whiffs of pretension before I even read a word, but it shook me. Especially in the end.

I borrowed a library copy, and I wish I had my own because it would be thoroughly underlined and dog-eared. I re-read some passages while I was reading, so much concentration was needed to discern the actions of certain parts. I might have revisited them in the future as well. Ball is a wonder with words.

There was one thing I did not like, which was the author's introduction that I felt could have been left as an afterword. The book is a fiction novel, but he based the characters of the father and the son on himself and his older brother who had Down syndrome, respectively. He chose not to write a memoir, but instead to write a future-set journey that described his meaningful relationship in a
true way. I think there was so much the reader was already asked to intuit during the reading, that this detail could have been left to a revelation after the story. But perhaps the blow the book’s end leaves the reader with would’ve been marred by the afterword instead of the perception that began the journey? I do not know. I do know that this book left me bereft.

One thing I didn't like. And yet, five stars.

This is the first time I've read an audiobook and felt that it benefitted from having listened to it, and probably would have been one less star if I'd read the print book. There was something very aural about this tale, that switched between Alice and Lucy, two very different women, one British and one American. The two narrators of the audiobook really seemed to almost cinematically inhabit their characters, and I appreciated their acting as the tale was being woven.

Set in 1950s Tangier, I sometimes felt like I was sweating along with the characters. It became clear soon after starting the book that there was something amiss in this friendship; the allusions to events in the past and the vibrating menace lurking beneath some of their words to each other gave me chills in the described humidity. However, I don't think I would have enjoyed this book quite as much without hearing Barrie Kreinik and Erin Mallon voice these women. All that said, I really liked this tightly spun novel and look forward to more atmospheric Mangan novels in the future, as this was an impressive debut.

3.5

My brain has been racing trying to figure out what exactly I thought about this book. Here's what I know: the main character is developed really well and the present day and flashbacks are seamlessly integrated. It's funny, but in a good chuckle kind of way. And finally, the ending is brilliant and heartwarming. The conclusion is a reveal of sorts, and it made me happy.

Here's what I don't know and I can't quite decide on yet: was the journey (both the reader's journey and Arthur Less' global trip) worth the awe I felt in the end? There were some gem scenes. I remember certain things fondly, like Arthur's terrible German, Javier at the party in Paris, and the retreat house in India. There's some incredibly meta points to this book, too, that I almost took it for autobiographical. I mean, Arthur Less is a writer whose latest manuscript Swift is about a man's journey. There's a whole section about awards and a scene about the Pulitzer Prize! Which This Book Won!

But here's another thing about That Ending: it made me want to go back to the beginning and read it all over again.

I wonder if after my book club meeting next week I may be swayed to feel differently? Perhaps a friend will point out a nuance I hadn't realized and will deepen my affection, or maybe there will be a resounding 'meh' and I'll feel a need to defend it or join the chorus. Changing my mind, it's been known to happen!

The day I finished this audiobook, I called my mom and told her about it and how she needs to listen to it. The thing about this book is that even though it's about a Dominican teenager trying to find her voice in NYC, I understood so much of Xiomara's perspective, particularly in respect to her mom and Catholic upbringing. My mother was nowhere near as strict as Xiomara's in the book, but there was so much truth in their relationship that I recognized in my own.

Much like the tv show Jane the Virgin, I hope my mom and I have found another piece of art to enjoy together because of our shared history. There was a certain part of the prose-and-poem filled novel that made me laugh out loud on a crowded subway, where Xiomara talks about how ever since she was born her family would always say "pero, tu no eres facil" and I swear my mom said that to me on the daily when I was in high school. It translates to, "well, you are not easy."

I've loved slam poetry ever since I came upon it on an HBO special when I was in middle school. I remember being wowed and though I've never attempted it (trust me, I'd be bad), there's something so powerful about the spoken medium of poetry. I highly recommend this audiobook where the seasoned slam poet Acevedo reads. Her emotion vibrates.

An important, thought-provoking, and necessary read right now.

All of these short stories are about women, and they are mostly dark, horrifying, and upsetting. Reading this collection during the past couple of weeks was a particularly visceral exercise, given some of the themes about women's treatment by men and society. Gay's portraits of these women is layered; again and again she has the ability to surprise me. I love Gay's writing because it is simple and straight-forward and yet incredibly powerful and poignant.

Midway through the collection, I was very happy for the short story "Open Marriage" to come along after having read "Break All the Way Down," a longer story about the loss of a child. "Open Marriage" made me laugh out loud. It's not even two pages long and I really needed that respite among the bleakness. When I came to her last story "Strange Gods," having read much of her autobiographical works, I choked up recognizing some of the descriptions of the crimes within. It is one that has a heartbeat of hope throughout, but it is still devastating. I was glad when I turned the page at the end and found not another short story but the acknowledgements which included Channing Tatum. I was the woman on the train yesterday with tears brimming in my eyes but then smiling when I saw his name.

One more note: is there anything Gay can't write? I was surprised to find stories that contained sci-fi, magical realism, dystopian themes and elements. I was not surprised at how well she fleshed those stories out, though.

Not every short story in this collection is a five-star story, but the majority are, and even then, there wasn't a story within that didn't provoke further thought or emotion. I literally had to restock my work bag with tissues halfway through this book since I usually read it while commuting. And while this is a five-star read for me, clearly there are some heavy themes within that I would refer to before fully endorsing this as a recommendation.

A wonderful, brief read that exudes so much with so few words.
Cisneros creates a quick, colorful atmosphere that makes the actions of the book, and Esperanza's experiences growing up on Mango Street easily accessible.
It's always thrilling to read a Latinx experience set in such lyrical, lovely lines.
The sharp insight of Cisneros' ideas is to be experienced between her short prose.
You can read it fast, but there is much there to take you beyond just a gathering of words.
I love Esperanza the same way I love Xiomara in my recent read of Elizabeth Acevedo's THE POET X.
They seem like distant cousins; given Cisneros general influence (it was published 34 years ago and considered a classic), one can't help but wonder about paths paved.
And I'm so glad they were, and continue to be.

A riveting, poetic memoir from a Canadian indigenous woman. Mailhot bares everything in these pages; she does not spare herself nor anyone else she writes about. There was a certain element of her deep rage and willingness to demonstrate it that I found riveting and intense. There are whole swaths written directly to her now-husband that felt like I was peering into the usually private discussions in a relationship. And there are times when Mailhot alludes to awful things, only to be fully revealed later in the book. There is a lot of talk of trauma; not just her own but the the traumas of all indigenous people, of the people in her family. Her storytelling is fractured and took me a moment to get into the rhythm, but once I was there I couldn't look away from the vulnerable unveiling of her own truths.

There were moments in the audiobook I had to pause it, and re-listen to make sure I heard right. ("Wait, murdered? What??") It's probably a better book in print, with the ability to easily re-read. Though it may have been tougher to continue, as well--there are a lot of horrors within.

I am looking forward to more from Mailhot; she has a distinct voice and needed perspective in literature today. I can't wait to read what's next.

What a journey. I loved a lot about this book, but feel conflicted upon looking back.

Lots of spoilers, as my mind is still touching on so many things as I finished the book this morning...

First, what a premise. It asks the reader quickly: what if you knew the date of your death? And then throughout the book studies that question in four different cases, but also almost goes back and forth on making the reader believe the premise or not. It comes together in the end in a conversation between Varya and Gertie, but I'm still wavering on whether that end was successful.

Simon's section was riveting and heartbreaking and perhaps a little cliche (as soon as he became a sexually active teenage runaway in SF, well, I predicted his fate), but I still felt it deeply. Klara's resonated a lot with me as she described becoming a mother, but it became a little wobbly when the close third person narration was revealed to be unreliable. Important things seemed to be alluded to but not explicitly revealed, so her death seemed surprising and shocking. Both these sections were completely engrossing. I found myself crying often. I found myself wanting to call my brother, often.

Daniel and Varya's sections were less powerful, and maybe that's okay. Daniel's story was a little hokey, a little weird in the end and there were a lot of questions I had about his character who of the four wasn't fully realized in my estimation. The best parts of his section were learning about what happened to Raj and Ruby after Klara. I was incredibly intrigued when the FBI detective came back on the scene, but I didn't appreciate how his return also led to Daniel's demise.

I like Varya's reunion with her son, and it was written in a painfully great way. But at this point in the novel, I'd read so much heartache and pain and... there was so little goodness given to these characters. There must have been goodness, but the reader was given so much of the painful aspects of their lives I wondered if that's all the author wanted to impart: life is pain, whether you know your death date or not.

I liked the writing and the journey (though all so uneven), and even though I'm not sure the end provides any answers, maybe that's the philosophical point.

3.5/4, though rounding up because it obviously gave me so much to think about and consider.