If I Had Your Face: Frances Cha

Damn, another good read! If I Had Your Face is Frances Cha’s debut. It follows four women living in the same building in Seoul, Korea. We have Kyuri, Miho, Ara, and Wonna. Infused with Korean culture and female spirit, every woman has strong motive and even stronger self-hatred. It was so entertaining but also sad. Before I’d picked this one up I had little knowledge of K-Pop and the underlying sexism. I didn’t know that women in Korean were subjected to this amount of beauty standards. I learned that it is the norm in Korea for women to endure plastic surgery, the ideal woman is just unattainable without going under the knife. This saddens me. The society is driven by wealthy men dictating what their women should look like, and the women basing their own self-esteem off of approval from men. I’m not saying this isn’t how North American societies operate, but it seems to be heightened in Korean beauty standards. Upon further research, there is substantial evidence to back this up. These women are all in such fierce competition with one another that they lose their sense of self. Each woman is distinct and I fell in love with each one at different times. They do not have it easy and I think this novel teaches empathy towards Korean women.

Fever Dream: Samantha Schweblin

Apparently all I’ve been wanting to read lately is strange fiction. I think there’s something to be said about authors who can take real scenarios and put them slightly off-kilter to make us feel unsteady. Fever Dream was, exactly that unsettling. Originally by Samantha Schweblin in Spanish and translated by Megan McDowell into English. Sick, quick, and cross-genre. I believe this was a match made in heaven. It explores the border between life and death, fact and fiction. Amanda is lying in a hospital bed, this is the end, someone is beside her, a boy named David. That’s all we have that’s concrete. She’s in and out of consciousness- in and out of herself. This entire novella reads much more as a nightmare than a dream. It’s icky, it’s gross. It’s one of those good ones that feels like a bit of an acid trip. The concepts became more and more abstract and honestly more and more horrifying, and I was left with more questions than answers. I love these kinds of horror books because they’re short and punchy, they don’t linger for too long because they don’t last too long. Something sinister is lurking in the air, a toxin that we don’t realize we’re breathing in until it’s much too late. Schweblin’s imaginations knows no bounds, and I always commend that type of bravery. I wouldn’t even necessarily classify this as a mystery because nothing was solved. Now off to have a deep, cleansing bath and wash this disgustingly beautiful book off of my brain.

Difficult Women: Roxane Gay

You must know by now I will buy anything Miss Roxane Gay sells. She happens to be a comfort author for me, I know I can pick up anything she created and I’ll feel safe. Even though I’m reading about horrible injustices against women, I’m somehow consoled in Gay’s arms. Difficult Women was no different for me. Collections of short stories can be lucrative to curate, as we want them to flow seamlessly yet stand alone. Gay does an incredible job of differentiating characters from their circumstances but also from each other. I read this one over a long period of time, putting it down for many weeks and picking it up when the mood struck. That’s one of the main reasons I value short stories, they can lay on your bedside table and be ready for whenever you want them. Segments such as “I Will Follow You” and “North Country” warranted a mental health break after, but again that’s the beauty of short stories. Gay is always sexually frank, so if that isn’t for you don’t pick this one up. Many of these stories are downright disgusting, and show the armpit of society. Women go through a hell of a lot just to be women, and this is a stark reminder of that. She writes about relationships like she designed them. There is nothing else on the book market like Roxane Gay.

The End of the Story: Lydia Davis

Confusing, endearing, plotless, and wonderful. The End of the Story was recommended to me by someone who clearly knows me better than I know myself. This is my first of many Lydia Davis picks, I know this is her only novel as she usually does short stories. At once poetic and precise, this book spans many different time periods and also just one instance. It is evident here that Davis primarily publishes shorter pieces, as it kind of felt fragmented in the best way possible. I could totally understand why someone wouldn’t enjoy this novel, it didn’t have much going on to tell you the truth. If you prefer heavy plot points and dialogue, skip over this one. But that’s what it’s about, it’s about memory. How quickly our concepts of one another fade as we get older, how contingent recollection is on nurturing. Throughout the pages, Davis reiterates: “there is what I choose to remember, and what I choose not to remember.” Is recall a decision? Do we bury certain tragedies deep within ourselves? Yes. Do we also purposefully revisit positive moments? Yes. We do this as a method of survival. The End of the Story explores the grey area. This is a method of organizing in an attempt to live fully. Nameless and faceless protagonists can be tricky, but this one was done specifically well in an abstract world. I’d call this minimalist fiction, read between the lines brilliance. If you’re looking for something a little deeper, perhaps some journaling material, pick it up.

Call Me Evie: J.P Pomare

My reading diet is truly all over the place these days. You can catch me delving into just about anything, and an engrossing thriller is often a great palette cleanser. Our world feels extra heavy to me these days, so I guess losing myself in someone else’s horror is a distraction. I don’t know if Call Me Evie should be compared to the works of Gillian Flynn, but it still kept my attention from start to finish. J.P Pomare has published seven best-sellers. So we have Evie and creepy Uncle Jim, except he’s not really her uncle. They’ve escaped something horrendous, something neither one of them can talk about. I found this one completely unpredictable, you’d think we were happily sailing down one stream, take a sharp right on these rocks. While I value Pomare’s ability to shift from past to present and keep me flipping pages, this one did have a few plot holes. I found most of the characters lacking common sense which was ultimately frustrating. It felt like the ending was a tad rushed and not necessarily what I would have picked, but I don’t know that you have to add this one to your must-read!

The Black Friend: On Being a Better White Person: Frederick Joseph

Proudly displayed at my local library under “Black Memoir”, I picked up The Black Friend: On Being a Better White Person mainly because I’d heard my boyfriend talk about Frederick Joseph and not because I am necessarily in pursuit of being a “better white person.” I stand corrected. Everyone can stand to be “a better” version of themselves, simply by learning about others. Frederick Joseph writes a starter kit or a dictionary of his experience as a black man. He shares true anecdotes about racial injustices, mixed with other well-known black voices such as Angie Thomas and Tarell Alvin McCraney. Calling out the micro-aggressions was one of the best parts because it puts people on the spot- you’re not anti-racist unless you surround yourself with anti-racist people. So it is our job to say something to our circle when they are saying ANYTHING racist, even if it’s teeny tiny. This is an okay starting but I’d say Ibram X. Kendi’s How to be an Antiracist would be my point of reference for this particular subject. Both authors did a great job of telling their own stories as a black man, what it’s like to live in a world so dominated by whiteness. I am sorry to all people of colour, I think all we can do as white people is educate ourselves. This book touches on a little bit of everything from “does reverse racism even exist?” to “which braids are cultural appropriation? to “how do I appreciate black culture without appropriating it?” Part of education is demystifying, debunking. I would gift this to that one family member who thinks they are funny with snide racial comments, just so they can see how deeply impactful they are. You can have these difficult conversations.

Dinner at the Center of the Earth: Nathan Englander

How timely and emotional! Dinner at the Center of the Earth felt like a conversation in the driveway long after you pulled in, one that you simply never wanted to end. Nathan Englander deserves all the hype I’d heard about this one. I’d now argue this to be required reading, especially given the political climate. Living in ignorance is not cute, and if you can’t keep up with current events at least inject some history into your reading repertoire. A nameless prisoner (Prisoner Z) takes us from Gaza to Paris, to Berlin to Jerusalem. Hiding and shifting, learning and divulging. Englander’s choice to make the protagonist unidentifiable shows that this could be anyone. It could be an uncle, a friend, a father. Although the setting is grim, Englander expertly sprinkles in humour to relieve some of the anguish. I believe that the most talented people can make light of the worst circumstances, so this is a great exercise in covert methodology. I typically run far away from political thrillers, but this one kept me going. One might consider Prisoner Z to be the anti-human, constantly on the contrary. I believe there is some of him in all of us as cognitive beings. I’ll have to admit I didn’t love the jarring time jumps, I know it was for a kaleidoscope effect but I was a tad dizzy. At times it felt a little too chopped and I may have wanted to linger in some time period for longer. It was very quick to get through and over-all enjoyable. I picked it up for its intriguing title and I’m delightfully surprised!

Bath Haus: P.J Vernon

What an exciting one-sitter! I couldn’t put Bath Haus down, it started as a lovely porch read with a Diet Coke and then I didn’t come in until the sun was coming down and the conclusion was on the horizon. P.J Vernon has such a distinct style of writing, digestible and fast-paced. Oliver Park is a recovering addict, not married to but wearing wedding rings with perfect handsome Dr. Nathan Klein. Oliver makes one big fucking mistake (involving you guessed it, a gay bathhouse) that leads to lie after lie, he can barely keep up with himself. It’s told from both Nathan and Oliver’s POV, the shift in tone it felt like a game of cat and mouse. They wear matching rings even though they are not married, just another way Nathan gains control over his partner. He plays mind games but we have to read between the lines to get it, as Oliver puts him on the highest pedestal. Oliver has a classic ex-narcotic user story, and Dr. Nathan has the remedy. Unfortunately this is so common with folks in recovery, they can be easily taken advantage of by someone looking to “save” them. He feels like he’s overcorrecting for past trauma with how protective he is over Oliver. To put it bluntly, he keeps him on a very short leash. But maybe he needs that type of structure? Nathan is condescending and his partner It’s refreshing as hell to see gay characters in mainstream books, this one even contains a little smut if you’re into that. From the first few pages I knew I was in for a wild ride, immediately thanking the library for its endless options. If you generally enjoy thrillers but usually find the characters as straight as a die, consider seeking this one out. Having said that, I’m not sure it’s for everyone given the gritty and traumatic subject matter. As always, take care of yourself and look up trigger warnings. I found the ending\twist predictable from pretty early on, but I like to think of myself as a literary detective. Even though I called it, I still could not turn the pages fast enough. Vernon writes so smoothly, so conversationally I could see this one being a popular movie. I have Vernon’s other works on hold at the library.

The Perfect Find: Tia Williams

Oh, if only I had read this one on a beach. Seven Days in June was so special to me that I was surprised not to have heard more buzz about The Perfect Find. It was okay, definitely falling in the chick-lit category. The plot was simple: forbidden love with the main woman feeling too old in her profession. Jenna Jones is a 40-something black woman who has a fat crush on a man half her age. Oh and he’s her boss\frenemies son! I found the two to be very cute together but didn’t see them lasting further than this novel. Williams is masterful in spice. The sexual tension and buildup between these two was well-written and all-encompassing. However, my pros really end there. I personally do not love when a book is jam-packed with pop culture references, I just find it takes away from the story. I come to books to escape from our world, not be reminded of it on every page. I found so many minute mistakes it did put me off a little, and the ending was dumb. I’ll forget about reading this and focus on Seven Days in June.

Bad Endings: Carleigh Baker

If the library shelves were a dating app, I’d be vehemently swiping right on short stories. They’re so digestible, dare I say- quick. Bad Endings by Carleigh Baker was consistently interesting and homey. It won the City of Vancouver Book Award and for good reason. I’d never heard of Carleigh Baker before, but I’m so glad I could dive into her Cree-Métis/Icelandic roots via fiction. Sitting with a story is like sitting with the writer, and I’m thankful to spend time with her. With subtle notes of dark humour and Canadian colloquialisms, these short stories boasted realistic conversations and borderline strangeness. Some of the chapters end abruptly and I found myself perplexed, but I appreciate the moves to mimic the title. All of the characters are struggling, yet making light of it. In these times of uncertainty it’s so important to remember that even in fiction people are going through it. Seasoning of human culture wouldn’t be what it is without the issues.

Shout: Laurie Halse Anderson

TW: Sexual Assault, Rape

Reviewing poetry feels too intrusive. I can write reviews of fiction all day, how did I feel about the characters? Did the plot do its job? Was I invested the entire time? Poetry seems to be a whole different ball game. It’s the author’s heart and soul on paper, especially in the case of Laurie Halse Anderson’s Shout. In light of the “#metoo” movement, Anderson carves out the deepest parts of her sexual assault, a vulnerable and dark time. These poems are about refusing to be silenced, refusing to lay low and assume the victim mentality. My copy has a blurb from Jodi Picoult, so you know my interest is piqued. Survivors have many ways of showing their grief, and poetry is a strong choice. Shouting something as closely linked to shame as a sexual assault really turns the onus back onto the survivor. Art is a way of healing. Manifest of healing. At times this was hard to read but that’s the experience of a woman, when one suffers, we all feel it.

The Rachel Incident: Caroline O’ Donoghue

Went into this one blindly, I hadn’t heard much buzz about it. The Rachel Incident is a cutesy, slice-of-life, contemporary story that I excitedly read in one sitting. Caroline O’Donoghue implores subtle details and humour to make for quite an enjoyable read, there were a few times I actually laughed out loud. Obviously we have Rachel, 20 something and unsure of who she is like everyone else navigating adulthood. Girl meets boy, Rachel and James are coworkers at the bookstore. They begin a close friendship turned roommates and while Rachel falls in love with her married professor (Dr. Fred Byrne) O’Donoghue paints us picture that’s on the surface relatable yet packed with symbolism. Three characters intertwined in a way I’ve never seen before, but I don’t want to give major plot points away, please just pick this one up. As an almost thirty year old (what!) I still found this refreshing. Our protagonist isn’t perfect, she’s tip-toeing through some parts of life and stomping through others. She is at once frustrating and huggable, chaotic and sane. She embodies every 20 something lost and bewildered. O’ Donoghue’s thoughtful characterization is one to take note of. I felt each person so distinctly for their motives and personality. James is the gay bestie muse every woman wishes for, but I did find him slightly over-animated. Dr. Byrne is dodgy yet affable. The plot is believable but still I think that’s what kept me reading, it wasn’t too intense. I can see myself rereading this one. I am looking forward to more from O’Donoghue.

Class: A Memoir of Motherhood, Hunger, and Higher Education: Stephanie Land

Catching up with Stephanie Land after rewatching Maid on Netflix with my mom. After her debut memoir, Land speaks out against systemic poverty in North America. She did such a great job of educating through anecdotes in the first memoir- I knew I had to follow up with Class: A Memoir of Motherhood, Hunger, and Higher Education. This is both the sequel and the origin story. Land escaped an abusive relationship and she is now attending college in pursuit of her MFA. Education is on my list of top-priorities. I always love a story about a woman dragging herself through school knowing it will give her a better life. As a reader, this one was stressful. She did make some poor financial decisions, she falls a little short on holding herself accountable but that’s because no one taught her to. Her upbringing was based on survival, and the same anxiety seeps into her adulthood. She does have a slight victimhood mentality but that just shows Land’s authenticity as a writer. We are all growing and learning to accept responsibility. We are all on a journey and that’s why memoirs are so hard to judge. Is the narrator being real and telling us what really happened? Or do they glamorize it? She could have planned better in many circumstances, we feel like she’s flying by the seed of her pants. But that’s what survival is, that’s what tact is. Nothing in this book is romanticized or easy. If you’re going through financial turmoil don’t pick this one up you’ll stress yourself out.

Slammerkin: Emma Donoghue

Add Emma Donoghue to my list of all time favourites. This woman has made her way to my shelves and heart. I couldn’t tell you why it took so long to get me here after my 2010 love of Room but I made it eventually. I value the permanency of the writing world, we can continually go back and delve into the archives. If you don’t already do this, I highly recommend perusing your local library like you would a grocery store. You might find a book from someone you already knew you loved but recently forgot about. I think perhaps we get too bogged down with what’s new that we neglect an author’s existing works.

Slammerkin was full of shame, intelligence, and alarm. I wouldn’t recommend it to the faint of heart, it was also brutal at times. Donoghue says it’s about a “prostitute obsessed with clothes” which I guess pretty much sums it up on the surface. She uses her mastery to bring a dead teenager to life, Mary Saunders was executed in 1764 for the murder of her mistress. While Mary’s short life was sexually traumatizing, the message is liberating. Between the age of 13-16 experienced more than I could ever imagine, and Donoghue spared no detail. If you’re familiar with Donoghue’s other works, you’ll know that she has the ability to turn the oldest tales into the most poignant ones. In other words, she takes even my most unfavourable genre and makes it delectable. I want to read everything she puts down. Nothing that happened to Mary was pretty, but somehow she was pretty. Somehow I found myself rooting for her even though her entire community was against her. 18th century London is not usually a place I ever find myself whilst reading but I’m glad I went there and experienced this. All of her stories that I’ve read so far are about women surviving.

New Girl in Little Cove: Damhnait Monaghan

You already know I love the East Coast of Canada. More specifically I love Halifax and I also love Newfies. Rom-Com style New Girl in Little Cove was the sweetest escape. Damhnait Monaghan delighted me with this brave Rachel O’Brien seeking a fresh start in Little Cove, Newfoundland. From the first page she is confused and lovely, I wanted to see where she would wind up. I think every single one of my girlfriends would like this book for different reasons. My Halifax friends would love her because she embodies east-coast womanhood. To me that means working hard. It means loving the ocean and all it has to give, it means taking the time to appreciate ourselves and our resilience. Rachel O’Brien arrives in Little Cove expecting her life to get better, but she quickly realizes she cannot run from the past. Anyone who knows and loves Newfoundland will appreciate the details on I’se the B’y and heavy catholicism. My Ontario friends would resonate with our heroine because she is incredibly charming, there’s no reason not to adore her. New Girl in Little Cove had me feeling proud to be Canadian as well.

The Leftover Woman: Jean Kwok

One of the best parts about going home is the endless supply of books. My mom just happens to have every book I’ve had on hold at the library forever. I took The Leftover Woman up to bed with me because I figured it was small and could have a quick turn over. I came downstairs the next morning and promptly demanded that my mother move it up higher on her “to be read” list (she won’t). Lately I’ve been pleasantly surprised by what I’m reading, and this Jean Kwok was no exception. It was the ideal combination of suspenseful and heartfelt. China’s infamous one child policy is a controversy I’d like to read more about. It’s absurd to me that a government could have this much pull over a woman’s family- but I guess political turmoil is the reason we have these beautiful testaments. These two protagonists in The Leftover Woman are linked by the overwhelming desire to be a mother. Mysterious elements lurk in the background but I find it doesn’t overpower the central family drama. I felt for Rebecca Whitney and Jasmine Yang at different times, they were so similar on the inside despite their diverse upbringings. Jasmine had it hard, fleeing a sex-trafficking ring and new to America with no legal documents. Rebecca grew up more privileged, and is now a publishing executive and mother to adopted Chinese daughter, Fifi. It is a bit predictable that Fifi turns out to be Jasmine’s long lost child, but I do believe in miracles. The actual storyline didn’t matter as much to me as this one was about the micro aggressions we all have. Rebecca struggles with her thinly-veiled racism, wondering if she can raise a Chinese daughter as a white woman. Kwok fairly covers white guilt and asian immigrant experience. The only reason I knocked this from five to four stars was for my dislike of the use of cheap discrimination. I think Kwok could have done a better job of depicting the racist slights without coming right out and saying it. Sometimes sensitive topics call for more nuanced takes, whereas I felt this one was at times flashy.

Someone Somewhere: Dana Mills

My fans (my mom and best friends) always ask me how I manage to read so many books throughout the year. I’m going to let you in on my best-kept secret: I alternate. I hop between the smuttiest fluff to the Greatest American Novel. I read one new short story before I flip to an old faithful chapter. The follow up is: how do you do it? Answer: It’s like keep up with multiple TV shows in a week. Your brain can process the same with books, you might just require extra training. In other words: do better. All jokes aside, I keep it fresh by switching up the content, and I also make notes like it’s going out of style. If you know me you know I am constantly taking any opportunity I can to document. I start my day with morning pages, I talk everyone’s ear off.

My library diet would be lacklustre without short stories. I picked up Dana Mills‘ gorgeous and unassuming Someone Somewhere on a whim at the library. This one reminds me why I love writing, why I love documenting and why I’m a writer. Mills’ debut took me through Nova Scotia, where I currently reside and love to pieces. Each story was simple yet striking, they seamlessly blended into one another yet stood alone. I silently teared up while I read Silent Song, a harrowing depiction of addiction and loss of self. I wasn’t really ready for this caliber of writing, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Perhaps I’m extra sensitive these days, but nonetheless I felt the depression in the storytelling. The characters were emotional and distraught, hard-working and oh-so Canadian. This was an immediate buy for me, and I’m proud to display it on my shelves.

Learned by Heart: Emma Donoghue

I cannot believe this is my first Emma Donoghue review. Reading Room when it first came out was a canon event for me, I fondly remember realizing that authors can be anyone they want through 2010’s Room narrator Jack: the child who knows only four walls as his whole world. The scope is measured by the writer, we decide who we are and what universe we live in when we put that pen to paper. This is why I love creating, I love making up new characters and trying situations, but also world-building. We can be anywhere. When my work is published I’ll credit Donoghue for teaching me to be brave, be anyone at any location. If someone is a talented writer, I could listen to them describe a white wall. Her latest, Learned by Heart absolutely stole my heart. We are set in 1805, which is not my usual time period but I’ll go anywhere Donoghue takes me. Eliza Raine and Anne Lister (yes, THE Anne Lister) are lovers in a dangerous time. Donoghue draws on Anne Lister’s real diaries to create this beautiful and heartbreaking tour de force. Not only are they lesbians in the 19th century, they’re also just fourteen when they meet. Their letters contain the details of their friends turned lovers trajectory that ultimately leads to an eerie demise. I gobbled it up, didn’t move from the couch until it was done. The two meet at an all female boarding school in York and stay entangled until one of them meets their death, I wanted more yet I was so satisfied with the ending because it’s what really happened. Donoghue’s ability to capture such ubiquitous love in a queer and biracial couple…whew. Is it hot in here? It never gets too steamy though, she’s very classy. It captures the human soul and what it’s like to love a woman, to yearn for a woman. A glimpse into a time unlike ours, yet a time so similar to ours that it makes me think we have so much further to go. A great writer will take raw evidence from history and make it digestible for anyone. Even if historical fiction is not your favourite, this will resonate.

Butts: A Backstory: Heather Radke

A cheeky little book about bums.Heather Radke did such a great job in the backstory of Butts. In fact, this may be one of the most compelling non-fiction books I’ve picked up in a while, and it really is all about that booty. The cover caught my eye in the library as it shows just a massive peach emoji, one of the most-used ones in my phone. I decided to pick it up thinking about how much I love butts, I love squatting and trying to grow a juicy peach, I love encouraging other people to do the same. I love shaking my bum on the dance floor. I’ve been making the rocking world go round (if you know what I mean) since I hit puberty, so I find it funny that now it holds such value when it’s something I used to be bullied for. Big butts are now in, everyone wants to obtain the curves I naturally had and was desperately trying to work off. If you’re reading this thinking I’m weird- I think it’s actually weirder that you don’t like butts. I feel like everyone can appreciate a good derrière. Having said that, even if you don’t love butts this is worth it. Radke first takes us through the first memory she has of a butt, springboards from there into such a funny and informative read. We get the history of how humans came to obsess over backsides to now the importance of race and glorification of body types. This thoughtful experimental feminist piece was enjoyable from start to finish. I appreciated the scholarly theorists citations as well as popular culture references. I felt Radke was exceptionally well-researched in her pursuit of information. My main take-away is that anyone can write about anything and make it utterly absorbing if they have the talent. Radke weaves personal anecdotes with factual history to make an intelligent argument that fuelled my feminist fire.

The Dutch House: Ann Patchett

I have not been myself lately. I haven’t been fiction writing, I haven’t been reviewing, I haven’t been reading, I haven’t even been thinking like I normally do. I picked up The Dutch House in an effort to break out of this strange funk, and it worked to revitalize my brain. This might sound peculiar because this Ann Patchett masterpiece is anything but quick. It is long-winded historical fiction and usually the opposite of what I’d gravitate towards during a lull, but I figured it deserved a shot after so many recommendations. From the first page I was intoxicated. Danny and Maeve Conroy grew up in The Dutch House, a place with such distinct intimacy, trauma, and grandiose expectations. Narrated through Danny, we get a rare depiction of his childhood with his sister (Maeve) and ultimately his adult life with his own wife (Celeste) and children (May and Kevin). The Conroy father is none other than Cyril, cold and distant but not entirely aloof. The mother Elna is not around at all during their childhood, and Danny has no memories of her. In the start of the novel, Cyril introduces his children to his new and much younger wife, Andrea. She is left with every penny except the children’s education fund when Cyril dies of a heart attack shortly after their marriage. Angry at this realization, Maeve sends Danny to the most elite and expensive schools possible to utilize that trust fund to its full extent. There’s layers of trauma to unpack here, I just found myself getting closer and closer to Maeve and Danny. I resonated deeply with Maeve’s instinct to protect and care for her younger brother when they no longer have their wealth. I then found Andrea to be obviously entitled but that’s what we’d expect from an evil stepmother character. The Conroy siblings often return to The Dutch House, park outside and reminisce on their elaborate yet empty childhood. They stop doing that once they realize that they should move on, and then more drama ensues. Without a full retelling, their absent mother Elna returns and cares for Maeve in her time of need. Do we forgive her for abandoning her babies all these years ago? Do we even know why she fled The Dutch House? Can we blame her? The house itself was always immaculate, complete with sweeping windows and artistic portraits of its members. Patchett’s ability to describe and transport is truly unforgettable, I lived in The Dutch House while reading this book. When Danny and Maeve are left to fend for themselves without this massive house shielding them, they’re exposed to the real world and it swallows them. Throughout all of these characters lives, they are connected through these walls. It’s a classic example of an inanimate object holding space as a character. Through its shiny exterior it holds the secrets and shame of the people who reside there. This is a slow burn with complicated people and even more complicated feelings. I recommend this book if you love prolonged reads, if you love to feel deeply through words. This was also my first Ann Patchett novel but now I can’t wait to read more.