When I am away, I don’t watch any television, at all ever and tend to get through a book a day. Given everything going on in my life as of late, I took some advice from my friend Mandu and removed twitter from my phone and planned to read a stack of books. I hadn’t planned any of my reading in advance, and was just going to try to get through some of the books on my Kindle.
The day before I set off Notes on Heartbreak by Annie Lord arrived; I must have preordered at some point. I do that a lot, and then it is like a lovely surprise gift when they all show up and it really helps authors along the way.
I was over three hundred pages in before I realised it was not a fictional account of a breakup, but an actual telling. It’s a brilliant and relatable tale and I just wanted to wrap Annie up and tell her it will all get better; but then questioned if it does or if we just compartmentalise that part of our lives so it isn’t all encompassing. Very very readable and relatable book. Am so glad I am no longer in my twenties.
Holiday books are a very certain category; I want to be engrossed but not really reminded of what awaits me back in London. And that is probably where the next one lost me a bit. The Reluctant Carer (whose author is not public) was in parts brilliant and funny. But my ex-boyfriend was a live in carer for his parents for the eight years we were together and so much of the book was way too close to the bone for me, even with the distance I have on the relationship.
We Are The Brennans by Tracey Lange and I was hoping for Blue Bloods-esque family drama and loyalty. What I got was a book where the characters in the family were pretty well drawn and not simplistic, but everyone else they touch or deal with were super one dimensional. Like they forgot to write those bits.
Verity by Colleen Hoover was suggested next as it has been divisive in the States (I was away with an American woman who lives in California). And it just left me confused. Like at one point they talk about the main character being able to have sex after giving birth to her twins; with pretty specific language about what she is able to vaginally do when, she erm, had a c-section. Things like that, when working with bestselling authors drive me absolutely up the wall. This was a book that you would read when in a foreign country and it was the only option in English.
The Eighth Sister by Robert Dugoni; in the first lockdown I read a ton of Dugoni while I was endlessly walking and enjoyed most of them. This one did not deliver on that same promise of fun distraction. The whole premise was about hiding the identity of three or four foreign assets but they seemed to forget that half way through. Enough that I wondered if the kindle edition had missed whole chapters.
Luckily after some rough duds, the holiday was redeemed with On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong which is just mind blowing. When I am taking pictures of pages, you know I am all in. “I miss you more than I remember you” killed me. Absolutely marvelled at the way he expressed feelings that I have deeply felt but had no idea how to put into words. It is an incredible and powerful piece of writing. It is dark and heartbreaking but should be taught in every University. Front runner for my book of the year.
And back down to Earth. The Woods by Harlan Coben barley worth a mention. Hair that longed to be touched and bouncy breasts longing to escape fabric were such shonky over the top descriptions of females ruined it for me.
And then I happened upon Assembly by Natasha Brown. What a gut punch of a short novel. Keep thinking about the assimilation and standing out from the crowd having ascended only to witness the, oh but we don’t mean you. Being the token. Interesting in watching Kemi Badenoch declare her bid for leadership and thinking about how much she attacks and rejects other WOC having a seat at the table. Incredibly readable and I keep coming back to tiny nuggets and chewing back over them.
And finally The Family Chao by Lan Samantha Chang. I love complex inter generational family immigrant saga; my all time favourite being Umbertina by Helen Barolini. I think this tale dealt really well with small town racism and adopted children being lost in the limbo of White America and seeking comfort from the only Chinese family in the town. I’ve got three adopted Chinese sisters, so definitely seek out books about the Asian American Experience. I think the author really nailed the othering and how quickly a community’s underbelly of hate is exposed and a family is left isolated and ridiculed. I think there were just some plot points that got muddled or lost which weakened my overall enjoyment of the novel.
And now back to reality… and a dying dog. So these are the first words I’ve written since returning and haven’t done any reading. Stupid TV is currently the only thing I can handle.