The Fault in Our Stars

 

The Fault in Our Stars
By John Green (318 pages)
Published by Dutton
Bookish rating: 4

I tend to dread to reviewing books that gazillions of people have already read. I prefer to unearth something under-appreciated that deserves some exposure and do my part for literacy. But hey. The Fault in Our Stars was begging to be read, mainly because it's a mind-bogglingly huge success in the YA market that has confirmed that younger readers are veering away from zombies, vampires, and end-of-the-world-slash-futuristic tales. As someone who is toiling on her own YA novel that contains nothing supernatural, this bodes well.

In case you've been living under a rock or only read news articles or 140-character remarks on your phone (ahem, Chris), The Fault in Our Stars is about two star-crossed lovers with cancer. Hazel's is terminal, and she's our teen narrator who, despite being written by a GUY, is adequately intelligent, irreverent, insecure, and believably GIRL. The parents are both lame (as parents are, amirite?) and remarkably sweet and complex. In fact, I thought Hazel's back-and-forth (I need you! Wait, no! Get away!) relationship with her folks very impressively got at their grief and love without being saccharine or sentimental or whatever. All while firmly in Hazel's point of view.

Of course, as a mum, I totally agreed with the line of "the only thing worse than having cancer is having a kid who has cancer."

The story was engrossing, the characters genuinely endearing and funny, and the writing sharp and perceptive--not at all heavy-handed. I found myself choked up here and there, which I suppose isn't surprising given the topic, but I really did feel attached to these kiddos by the end.

The novel was better than I expected it to be and it contains lots that lovers of YA can enjoy (and learn from). Recommended!

The Orchardist

The Orchardist
By Amanda Coplin (426 pages)
Published by Harper
Bookish rating: 4

Set in Washington (state!) at the turn of the century, near the Cascades, The Orchardist is one of those novels deeply tied to the sense of PLACE. Which I tend to like.

In fact, hanging out in South Dakota with my kin this past week, my horse-riding uncle asked me if I had read The Orchardist. I had! Aside from reminding me that I needed to generate a Bookish post about it, we were able chat about the novel. Ain't that something? Awwww, books.

So, the book: Talmudge is our aging orchardist hero who takes in two girls on the run from a very, very bad man. A family gets cobbled together among Talmudge, the girls, a baby, and the town's spinster midwife/herb lady.

The first half of the book, possibly because it contains greater drama, is stronger than the second half, and I found myself getting antsy for some forward movement plot-wise. And I'm usually not a reader who needs a lot of plot to be satisfied. Maybe my reading attention span is waning. Ruh-roh.

Overall, this book is beautifully written with extraordinarily complicated, interesting, and genuinely unique characters. Recommended, especially for those who dwell in the Pacific Northwest.

Winner of the National Book Award

 
Winner of the National Book Award
By Jincy Willett (336 pages)
Published by Picador
Bookish rating: 4

My friend Molly suggested the wryly titled Winner of the National Book Award to me. And I'm glad she did. I don't think I've read anything like it.

This is a completely weird novel in which a cranky old broad, Dorcas, who lives entirely within the mind holes herself up in the library she manages as a hurricane approaches. With her is the just-released book of her twin sister's sordid saga of killing her husband.

Dorcas reads while editorializing to us, the actual real-life readers. It's effing hilarious. HILARIOUS. And smart! So, so smart! And ironic!

But it's also sort of tender. Her twin lives in the body, sleeping with anyone, enjoying food, denying herself never. So, when she falls in love with a douche canoe who is emotionally abusive, she begins to lose herself. The douche in question makes his move on Dorcas, who obsesses over what his sadistic little plan is.

This is a complex novel.

Alas, I finished it more than a week ago and have a trillion things on my mind, so my review is not as thoughtful as this book deserves it to be. Recommended, though. Just read it.

The End of the Point

The End of the Point

By Elizabeth Graver (335 pages)

Published by Harper

Bookish rating: 5

Earlier this year, I read Elizabeth Graver’s fantastic Unravelling, and I was excited to try another Graver novel.

I just freaking love her writing.

The End of the Point is, I think, even better than Unravelling. It’s more complex, gets into the heads of more characters, covers more time.

Like many, many coastal novels, this one follows a blue-blooded family as they summer at their beach house(s), having Complex Lives, possibly because they have entire summers to ponder their Complex Lives without, like, work. Even the nannies and household help tag along.

Ah, but don’t chalk this novel up to a bunch of spoiled rich people in polo shirts or lounging on fainting couches. Graver treats each character like a prism, showing utterly different sides of a person from different points of view. It’s incredible, the way she juxtaposes (I hate that word, juxtapose—it’s so English Lit 101) how one person sees himself or herself vs. how others see him or her.

Anyway, we start in the 1940s and end in 1999, and the minute dramas of family life play out, wills go against each other, but everyone pretty much loves everyone else—deeply. 

As time has passed since I finished this book--a few days, not THAT much time--I find myself nostalgic for the reading joy this novel brought, which is unfortunate for everything else I'm currently reading. 

Thus, The End of the Point earns a 5 from this girl.

Graver gives us top-notch writing, story, complicated characters, and a beach. What’s not to love?