thebacklistborrower's Reviews (570)

 This book is a contemporary comedic drama, putting it squarely in the genre of books I never really read. Nothing against the gentler contemporary reads out there, it just isn’t a story that holds my attention all too well, and unfortunately it held true for this book. But before I go any farther, I was the very small minority at the book club to this extent and most people rated it 8, so take my review here with a grain of salt.

The Guncle follows Patrick O’Hara who ends up looking after his young niece and nephew after their mother dies of cancer, so their father can address his drug addiction. Previously made famous from a stint on a popular friends-style sitcom, Patrick has since moved to Palm Springs and become a bit of a recluse. But with two young children now in his life, he starts to address some of the pain from his past and they all heal together.

I was the only one from my book club who listened to the audiobook, and I think that played a big part of why this book didn’t land. Patrick is intentionally written to be quite annoying at the start of the book, and to hear it out loud made me almost DNF. While he does improve by the end of the book, it just wasn’t enough for me. I found nearly every adult character in the book insufferable if not straight-up mean, the exception being Patrick’s neighbours, a gay throuple, all of whom I really liked and wished had been around more.

Discussing the book allowed me to see that there are actually a lot of very sweet moments between Patrick and the kids, Patrick and the neighbours, and Patrick and his family, that I actually really liked. The book is very sweet, and deals with topics like grief, trauma, and family. And like I said, most people really liked it. It just didn’t land with me. But if this sounds up your alley, check it out!

 

 This was my third Thomas King book read this year, after Green Grass Running Water, and Indians on Vacation. King is acclaimed as a master storyteller, and I can see why. There are common threads running through each of these books that show the common hand in all of them, but they are all so incredibly different too.

Sufferance is the latest novel by King. It is about Jeremiah Camp, a man who had earned the name The Forecaster by his ability to spot trends and predict the future for his corporate employer. But eventually, he leaves, returning to the reserve that he was born in, and stops talking. He bides his time replacing unnamed crosses at the residential’s school’s cemetery with engraved river stones, letting the community and the hustle and bustle of it pass him by, until the corporation returns for one last forecast. The richest of the rich around the world are dying, and they want to know why.

King makes strong use of a non-linear, braided storyline, like in all of his books. Jeremiah lets the present pass around him as he gets lost in history and memories. What was interesting about this book, is it felt like a thriller. There is a shady corporation, mysterious deaths, political wheeling and dealing, and even threats against Jeremiah himself, unless he completes the Forecast to find out what--or who-- is killing these billionaires.

Of all the Thomas King books I’ve read this year, I think Green Grass Running Water was my favourite as I found it a bit more light-hearted and fun than Sufferance, but if dark, dramatic, thrillers are your thing then definitely pick this up. 

 

 I finished this book and wasn’t ready to let it go. I immediately wanted to reread it again, forwards, backwards, and from right in the middle. It is about a boy named Benny who hears objects talking to him, including a book that narrates his life, and his mother, a woman who struggles with hoarding. Ultimately, this story is about our relationship with stuff and books in particular. 

This book covers so much ground: mental health, trauma, access to appropriate supports for children and adults, consumerism, capitalism, art, the nature of reality, society’s treatment of homeless people with mental health challenges, and books. Over and over again, language, stories, poetry, books, and libraries are looked to for solace, connection, and help. Many characters take refuge in the library and get help from the community that it builds around it. 

In this book, all things have spirits and voices and want to be heard. Benny goes in and out of live-in treatment when he starts to hear these voices, and an alphabet of diagnoses is sprinkled through the book as his doctors try to figure him out. But at the same time, as a reader I never felt that his hearing voices was wrong, with the book coming across as magical realism. Anybody who has read Ozeki’s “Tale for the Time Being” will know this style. In both books, the question of “what is real” is very present both for the characters and the reader. And ultimately, it is up to everybody’s interpretation what the answer is. I was fascinated to see in the Acknowledgements that Ozeki had consulted with various groups that support those who hear voices, which definitely leant itself to the way the topic is approached in the book.

I can’t say enough good things about this book. There is still so much I haven’t talked about, and I think everybody who reads this book will read something different and valuable out of it (a phenomenon actually referenced in the book). So I think anybody can and should read this book. It will be one of my favourites this year, and for many to come.

 

There are books that are made to be read with the book in one hand and a snack in the other (or for extra deliciousness, on audiobook with food in both hands). While food is not central to much of the book, descriptions of the most delicious Korean food is interlaced throughout. 

CW: cancer, discussion of cancer treatment

Crying in H Mart is a novel by the lead singer of Japanese Breakfast, Michelle Zauner. I hadn’t heard of this band before reading this book, but turns out I love her sound! The book is a memoir of Michelle’s life as a half-Korean girl in Oregon, including her relationship with her parents, caring for her mother through her battle with cancer, and rediscovering her identity. 

People who have had experience with cancer may find a good half of this book hard to read. I repeatedly struggled with it, as Michelle does not beat around the bush in describing the lengths to which cancer and the treatment impacted her mother. As Michelle was the primary caregiver, the passages are intimate and sensitive, capturing the care and tenderness that went into her mother’s last months and the desperation Michelle feels to do everything possible to make the pain stop and cancer go away.

After her mother’s death, she starts to rebuild her relationship with her mother’s culture. Her mother often made Korean food for Michelle, but never taught her how to do it herself. Michelle interprets this as an act of love, one that would not be the same with help from the person the food is for. So instead, she learns to cook with a Korean YouTuber (this woman is even named in the acknowledgements). As she discovers her culture through food, her music also becomes more well-known, and the book ultimately ends with Michelle playing in Seoul for her extended family. 

For all that it was hard, I did enjoy this book, and saw a lot of similarities to Butter Honey Pig Bread by Francesca Ekwuyasi. If you liked it, you’d like this book, and definitely vice versa.

 

I was just on summer holiday at my family’s traditional campground/resort, in Christina Lake, BC. Visiting with my cousin and my aunts, walking the same paths I’ve taken for literal decades, reflecting on all that has changed, and hasn’t, this book changed for me. 

I actually read it a few weeks ago. I loved Skim, and had been excited for this graphic novel, but I don’t think I gave it the time and attention it needed, and at the time it didn’t really hold up for me. Now, looking back at the book with memories of my own confusing teenaged summer holidays fresh, and revisiting the book, it is a beauty. I sympathized so much with so many of the characters: the first attraction for another boy (even completely out-of-league), the confusion that comes with the glimpses into the next stage of life, straddling childhood and teenagerhood and not really fitting in with either.

The book follows Rose, a girl leaving her childhood, and her family who vacation each year at Awago Beach. Windy, a girl nearly 2 years younger than Rose, is a close friend from childhood who also visits the beach community each summer. Through the pages, we follow them as Rose teeter-totters between the innocent friendship with her younger childhood friend, and first steps into teenagerhood as she develops a crush on a clerk at the local store. All the while, Rose’s parents are fighting, a young woman in the town becomes accidentally pregnant (a point of gossip between Rose and Windy), and Rose and Windy struggle with peer pressure and exposure to peer expectations between each other and the other teenagers of Awago Beach. 

The Tamakis did this so well with Skim, and again with This One Summer. The writing and illustrations are evocative and made me truly feel all that terrible confusion of being 13 and away on summer holidays, but also the tender, heartfelt bonds between friends and family that grow so strongly on a lakeshore. 

This book has a lot of tough topics, but is beautiful and is an excellent read. 

Back in college I went through a huge classics binge, and read through the original Island of Doctor Moreau by HG Wells. While that is a chilling thriller, this novella is a fun cop drama/murder mystery with less of the creepy horror and more musical references.

The book is about a cop investigating the murder of “Dr. M”, the manager of WyldBoyZ, a boy band made up of half-human, half-animal singers. The WyldBoyZ are a huge act that sound like they’d rival BTS in our world, and after the last show of a tour and the wild booze and drug-filled night after, Dr. M is found murdered. Bobby the ocelot (the cute one), Matt the megabat (the funny one), Tim the pangolin (the shy one), Devin the bonobo (the romantic one), or Tusk the elephant (the smart one) are all suspects, as are his wife, and a few others in the orbit of the group. 

This was a very fast, but super enjoyable read. I’m not a mystery person, but as a novella the story was perfect for my tastes. I thought the author, Daryl Gregory, did a great job adding humour and playing up pop culture references, while also hitting the vibe of a whodunit. If you’re looking for a fun read. something that is fast paced, entertaining, and not mentally draining, definitely pick up this book. It’d also be great for those in a slump :) 

This book intrigued me after learning it was what the Netflix series was based on. I patiently waited for the audiobook to come in at the library.

In general, I thought this book was interesting and well-written, but it was a story I felt like I’d read a few times in the last few years and in the end I just felt it was an okay read. 

Unorthodox is a memoir written by Deborah Feldman that explored her childhood being raised in an orthdox jewish community, and her eventual break from it. What I really liked about the book, and the biggest difference to the other books, is learning about the jewish traditions of Deborah’s childhood, and the time spent with family and friends. It appears that Deborah’s family and friends seemed to genuinely care for her and want the best for her. 

I think if you liked books like Educated, you’d like Unorthodox. I’ve read Educated and thought it was fine, but wasn’t blown away by it. I basically have the same feelings about Unorthodox. I’m glad I’ve read it, but it won’t be at the top of my recommended reads.  

I remember the first time I discussed post-apocalyptic indigenous literature, and the flashbulb that went off when my cousin pointed out “indigenous people have already had their apocalypse.” I was sitting on the patio at The Charlatan on commercial drive, it was your typical gorgeous Vancouver summer day. Decolonizing one’s thinking is a process of a million steps, but that epiphany was a full leap that changed how I read indigenous stories thereafter.

This story is an anthology of speculative fiction featuring characters that identify as indigiqueer and two-spirit. Many of these stories took place on a dying earth, showing indigenous people’s resilience *and survival* through a second apocalypse, but some showed life-- and love-- after the end. They showed indigenous reclamation of language, plant knowledge, culture, and spirituality, and that reclamation allowing the characters to not only survive, but thrive. 

One thing I thought a lot about was Johnny Appleseed, by Joshua Whitehead, which won Canada Reads this year. On the last day, Devery Jacobs tearfully explained how she connected to fully with Johnny when he said "I played straight on the rez in order to be Indian and here I played white in order to be queer.” These stories come back to us from a future where the impacts of colonization on gender and culture have been defeated, and the acting that Deverey connected so strongly to. 

This book is a beautiful anthology showcasing speculative fiction that is more rooted in the connection we have to each other and to the planet, than the science fiction of each individual story. 

How does one review the western classical story? I recall having owned a cheap Chapters sale copy a decade ago. I was really into classics then, and this seemed like a bit of a beast. Turns out the middle of an engineering diploma is not the best time to pick up this book. But I'm so glad I didn't because this copy is *chef's kiss*.

Ultimately it was reading Miller's Circe that inspired me to take a go at the Odyssey, as the eponymous hero Odysseus makes an appearance in her novel. Since I'm aiming to keep my shelves as diverse as possible, I thought I'd track down the copy translated by Emily Wilson, the FIRST woman to translate this ancient poem. When I saw that the audiobook was narrated by Claire Danes, I swooned and used my one free audible credit to purchase this Audible exclusive *sigh & eye roll*.

It was so good, and I'm so happy that I engaged with this translation, and also engaged with the poem the way it was originally created, through audio. The first few hours of the audiobook was the introduction, which was really interesting as Wilson covers many of the questions people have about the Odyssey: how old is it? Who wrote it? What is it about? What I appreciatedmost was the translator's notes, which discussed her method and style, while also raising my awareness of the structure and style of the poem itself.

When the story itself started, I was fascinated and immediately hooked. I did not at all expect it to feel like a real, modern story. I basically expected to feel like I was giving the story my time out of obligation, not enjoyment. But was so wrong, and this is probably why the story has lasted so long, and why you should always make sure you are reading good translations. While I did feel there were a few times the story dragged, I thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience of the book.

If you can, I'd strongly encourage listening to the Odyssey if it is on your list, whether it was this Audible exclusive or not. It is a great story, and a really great listen.

 “It’s illegal to yell ‘Fire!’ in a crowded theater, right?” “It is.” “Well, I’ve whispered ‘Racism’ in a post-racial world.”

I’m going to start this review by pointing out that I have created a new guide on my Instagram @thebacklistborrower that highlights reviewers from diverse backgrounds, as this book touches on a lot of topics that, as a white woman, I can’t best speak to and, while I will give my impressions, there is so much to speak to that only a black reviewer can.

CW: Racism, violence, suicide

The Sellout is about an unnamed Black character only ever referred to as “The Sellout” or “Bonbon”, and Hominy Jenkins, the last surviving Little Rascal. Both live in the “agrarian ghetto” of Dickens, which one day is quietly dropped from state maps. Despairing over his loss of recognition that came with the loss of Dickens, Hominy attempts to commit suicide, but is rescued by The Sellout. In exchange, Hominy pledges himself a slave to The Sellout, much to The Sellouts alarm. The Sellout then pledges to get Dickens back on the map in a favour to Hominy, and he does this by segregating the local high school and a local bus.

A 2016 Man Booker and National Book Critics Circle Award, this book is a biting satire of post-racial america. Reading the book made me very uncomfortable. I was often asking myself “is this funny? Is this supposed to be funny? What does it mean if I think this is/isn’t funny?”. I stopped 50 pages in to read some reviews as I just didn’t know what to think. The discomfort, however, was good. This book isn’t supposed to be comfortable. It is supposed to point out everything wrong with the “post-racial” society of 2015, and is very transferrable to 2021 as well.

Of course as a Man Booker winner, I don’t need to tell you that this is a well-written book. But it is complicated, and uncomfortable, and trying to explain it when asked “what are you reading?” is challenging. Please check out my new guide for other’s opinions on the book, as it shouldn’t surprise anybody that this was also a polarizing book.