Darkness Visible, by William Styron: I think it’s probably unfair to judge a book about depression written in 1990 by the standards of today (but I have The Noonday Demon on hold, so let’s see how it measures up) – but everything Styron mentioned felt very obvious, and the whole thing felt meandering and stream-of-consciousness.
The Summer Book, by Tove Jansson: A lovely, very young-feeling collection of vignettes about a grandmother and granddaughter living on an island off the coast of Finland for multiple summers (there’s a father, too, but he’s less spotlighted). I can imagine that for the right reader at the right time this could become a seminal book (that’s not a compliment laced with condescension, just a compliment). My only quibble was (and this may be due to translation) how often the verb used for the granddaughter’s speaking and/or was “screamed.”
The Appeal, by Janice Hallett: Truly, truly fun. Hilariously specific in many ways, this pastiche of emails, text messages, and court documents examines a scandal (several, really) amid the participants of a local theater troupe in the UK. It’s not trivial – there’s murder – but it felt appealingly (har) campy at times, like Clue.
The Hunter, by Tana French: Tana French never misses for me. I’ve read a fair amount of criticism that bemoans her standalone novels and decries them as “slow” and “boring” – slow I can accept, though I’d go for weighty or ponderous instead, but I was certainly never bored…the character studies, the depictions of the landscape, the subtleties of navigating an isolated place – these are masterful.
A Fire So Wild, by Sarah Ruiz-Grossman: Oh boy…I’ve seen praise from all directions for this and I LOVE the cover. Otherwise, I found it lacking entirely – heavy-handed, preachy, and very young-feeling. Alas.
