The Exiles, by Jane Harper: I was very excited to read another Aaron Falk mystery after finding Harper’s last outing (The Survivors) less interesting than The Dry (which is Falk) and The Lost Man (a standalone)…this was satisfying enough as a mystery but didn’t have the same atmosphere those two created.
The Social Climber, by Amanda Pellegrino: For most of this, I found myself thinking “I could have just…not read this” but I did somewhat begrudgingly appreciate the turns it took. The writing, though – not just the writing, but the editing; there were contradictions within sentences, tenses out of place, continuity errors. Strange.
Survivor Song, by Paul Tremblay: I may be tired of pandemic novels, which is not something I ever thought I’d say. This was a neat book, fun in spite of its topic, and I’m not sure I was able to give it its due because of subject fatigue. It is funny, which is a nice feat.
Demon Copperhead, by Barbara Kingsolver: Loved it. I’ve read a number of Kingsolver books – Poisonwood Bible is excellent, Prodigal Summer and Animal Dreams less substantial – but this is clearly her magnum opus. The language is exhilarating, the setting perfectly drawn.
A Head Full of Ghosts, by Paul Tremblay: Another Tremblay that I admired more than enjoyed; it may be that, as with dating, he’s an author I would wholeheartedly recommend for someone else – objectively good – but who’s not quite for me. Smart and meta – a possession that becomes a reality TV show that becomes the subject of a blog – and effectively creepy, but left me a bit cold.
