Hex, by Thomas Olde Heuvelt: Not sure why I finished this…it was over-written, nonsensical, tonally inconsistent, and completely devolved in its second half. Weird misogyny and other offenses, failed attempts at allegory. One interesting thing – it was originally written in Dutch, then when sold to the American market was rewritten by the author, rather than translated. Maybe the Dutch version is better? I’m not holding my breath.
None of This is True, by Lisa Jewell: I appreciated the twistiness of this and the parallel between the two primary characters – it was definitely hard to put down. I also enjoyed the structure of a mystery within a podcast within a Netflix show (the turducken of genres!) That said, I had some issues with the ending and the way some of the characters’ actions were portrayed…it felt like the author undercut some of what she had pulled off.
Land of Milk and Honey, by C Pam Zhang: I absolutely loved Zhang’s first novel, How Much of These Hills is Gold, but unfortunately this didn’t captivate me. The premise was intriguing – I kept picturing the bunker from A Murder at the End of the World – but it felt overwritten in the extreme, and I found myself gritting my teeth through some of the flowery descriptions. I’ll still be eager to read anything Zhang puts out, but this one just wasn’t for me. With that said…as I reached the final quarter of the book, I wondered how much of the overwriting – it felt like clutter, in which no single striking sentence had a chance of standing out among so much flash – was intentional, to mirror the setting. And I wondered if it would clear at some point, and it did. I found that I did appreciate the ending, even found that it redeemed the whole book to a degree.
Although the books themselves are completely different, reading Land of Milk and Honey was a similar experience to reading Hernan Diaz’s Trust: I loved each author’s first novel so deeply that some disappointment was inevitable, and I ultimately admired more than enjoyed them.
The Pull of the Stars, by Emma Donaghue: This was really lovely, albeit predictable. It was a toss-up for me whether it felt predictable in a slightly pejorative way or if I knew what was coming at every step because it could only have happened that way. It felt like a play in many ways, and I could see it adapted for the stage easily. Initially I wondered if the entire novel would take place in a single setting (like Room, which I haven’t read!), and in large part it did, to its benefit.
Moon of the Crusted Snow, by Waubgeshig Rice: I appreciated this as an allegory, but unfortunately the writing was overly expository, stilted and flat. The premise was good but the plot predictable.
