The last three months have just flown by, but there was some really good reading mixed in with all the whirlwind! Here’s a little bit about the books I read between April and June.
April
I didn’t expect that much from Daisy Jones and the Six beyond an entertaining and easy read. It pleasantly surprised me. The format was unique and worked spectacularly well for the content. The writing was punchy and perfectly timed. The characters were complex and beautifully drawn, and they developed continuously throughout the book. Stereotypes were both fulfilled and subverted, clichés lived and abandoned. Music was brought to life as its own living, breathing character, and all the other characters in the book orbited it. I loved this book. I now want to go back and read more of Reid’s work, because I’ve heard good things, and if it’s even half as good as this it’ll be excellent. 10/10.
I read Kid Gloves during Dewey’s 24-Hour Readathon to give me a bit of a break from solid text. It’s a graphic novel account of Knisley’s miscarriage and subsequent successful pregnancy, and of her early entrance into motherhood. There was a lot of important information in this book, a lot of pain normally suppressed rather than openly discussed. I think if I had read this book when I was in my early 20s before I took several Women’s Studies classes, including one focused entirely on women’s health and reproductive systems, it would have had a huge impact. As it was, though I thought she did a good job of researching and presenting her information, because I knew most of it I skimmed a lot. I’d definitely recommend this to young women just learning about the horrendous history of women’s health care, and to women (particularly if they are also young) who have suffered a miscarriage or are trying to get or currently pregnant. 6/10.
I have been watching The Durrells TV show lately, and absolutely adoring it, so I decided it was time for me to head back to Gerald Durrell’s Corfu Trilogy to read the second book, Birds, Beasts and Relatives. I read My Family and Other Animals last summer, and while I enjoyed it, I did find it a bit of a slog in places. This one was a much faster and more enjoyable experience for me. I don’t know if there was actually a difference between the books or if I’m just in a better mental place and find reading itself easier this year, but whatever the reason this book was a blast. 8/10
I picked up Ben Watt’s account of his severe illness, Patient, after having read his wife Tracey Thorn’s first two books. I didn’t expect much, but she mentioned his illness in her memoir and I was curious to find out more about what happened to him. I didn’t think for a second that he would turn out to be as talented a writer as his wife – particularly since the two are Everything But the Girl, a band that has brought us some truly brilliant music. I was so pleasantly surprised by this book. It was raw, emotional, painful, and hilarious. I saw so many glimpses of my own experiences in hospital and the strange things that happen in your head when your body is failing you. I felt a deep emotional connection to his story, and I am so glad I decided to give this book a try. Definitely recommended to anyone who has been through a serious medical trauma, particularly anyone who spent time in hospital and left it forever changed. 9/10.
I picked Circe up because it was on the longlist for the Women’s Prize for Fiction, and I was fairly sure it was going to make it through to the shortlist (which it did). I did so under protest. While I’d heard brilliant things about Miller’s writing, and about this book in particular, I am not interested in the least in Greek mythology. I’m not that fussed about feminist re-tellings of stories that have already been written. I don’t generally go for books about wild adventures and battles, and I don’t care at all about the shenanigans of deities. But man, I am so glad I read this book. I loved Circe’s character development, and I enjoyed spending so much time getting to know her. The pacing of the book was excellent, it only dragged a tiny bit once or twice. Miller does a good job (as far as I can tell since I have only a passing familiarity) of sticking to the source material but re-working it so that it’s fresh, and I enjoyed her writing style. She did cram in a bunch of references to various characters from myths and little asides about their fates, and that felt info-dumpy at times, but I didn’t really mind too much. I did feel like there were times when her scope was restricted by the source material, and I wondered what she could have done with the story if she had the freedom to take it wherever she imagined it going. But overall it was a relatively easy read and had a lot of food for thought. 8/10.
May
I started off my reading for April with a bang. My Lovely Wife in the Psych Ward has been languishing in my TBR pile for a very long time, but reading Patient sent me looking for similar stories of illness and survival, and this one sprang to mind. It’s unique in that it’s written by the husband of a woman who ends up in the psych ward with psychosis. Mental illness hasn’t typically been discussed openly, but is appearing more in books in the last decade or so. But I haven’t seen any books written by a caregiver about someone with a mental illness. I think this is because there’s a feeling that writing about someone else’s mental illness exposes them in a way that is not fair to do, opens them up to stigma, and betrays their trust. I am still in awe of the trust Lukach’s wife put in him in allowing him to write so candidly about her illness. The book is honest, emotional and deeply upsetting, but so worth the time and emotional energy. I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns out to be my favourite book of the year. 10/10.
I picked up Brain On Fire, another book that has been on my TBR for ages, because when I finished My Lovely Wife in the Psych Ward I wanted more of the same. It’s possible that this was an unfair time to turn to this book, because it definitely suffered by comparison. It was interesting, passably well written and definitely brought an important story and diagnosis to a wide audience. I think it’s worth reading, but it didn’t have the same emotional impact on me as either My Lovely Wife or Patient. 6/10.
(I also watched the film of this book, which I didn’t really like. Large parts of it were boring, and I don’t think the internal struggle and subtle symptoms came across well on screen. Her state post-illness and recovery were both pretty extreme in the book, but in the movie it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal and is glossed over quite quickly. I’m not entirely sure about casting. Some of the subtleties of the relationships were also lost. Not my favourite adaptation.)
I picked up Five Feet Apart mostly because I wanted to watch the movie, and I felt like I needed to at least have a go at reading it first. I didn’t really have any expectations going in, except that it would make me feel some serious feels. It didn’t really do that. I found it hard to connect to the characters, and I didn’t really care all that much what happened to them in the end. Some of the decisions they made confused me, and there were lots of details that felt inconsistent either because they were or because the parameters weren’t very well defined. Such a big deal is made of distance being necessary between the kids who have cystic fibrosis, and in some scenes they’re wearing masks and gloves. But then in others it seems like they’re handing things back and forth that they’ve both touched, or they’re getting closer to one another than that strict rule. This perceived inconsistency took me out of the story and annoyed me. That on top of already feeling distanced from the characters meant that the book didn’t really connect for me. I did like that it portrays what it’s like to be a teenager with a terminal or serious illness – and that even in those circumstances you’re still a teenager. I think it’s great that we are getting more diverse stories like this these days, and I hope it does connect more strongly with young readers. Just don’t go into it expecting it to be the next Fault In Our Stars, because it is not. 6/10.
(Watched the film as well, and it didn’t do any more for me than the book did. Didn’t love the casting, and while the adaptation was fairly close to the book, since the book wasn’t my favourite, that didn’t help me much.)
June
The Silence of the Girls was another in my quest to read this year’s Women’s Prize for Fiction shortlist before the winner was announced. Having just forced myself to read Circe, I really wasn’t excited about this. It’s another re-telling of a Greek myth (The Illiad) from the perspective of, for the most part, a female prisoner of war and slave. I found it to be a surprisingly easy read. It only took me a few days, and once I was into it, I did want to know what happened next. I found some of her narrative decisions to be odd, and the story felt a bit repetitive at times, but the overall writing was good and I think most readers would find something to enjoy. 7/10.
Home Is Burning was… intense. It’s a memoir about a man whose mother has cancer (has done most of his life) and whose father develops fast-moving ALS. He has just begun a lucrative and enjoyable career, has a girlfriend he is hoping to get serious with and has all the benefits of a wealthy upbringing (and the holiday homes to prove it). But when his father, who has always been the glue holding the family together, gets sick, he has to drop everything to return home and help take care of him. So begins a descent into a particular type of purgatory – one where the very thing you hope for (that your dad will manage to keep living with this diagnosis for a very long time) becomes the thing that destroys your life. This book was unlike anything I’ve read before. It’s candid – uncomfortably so – and full of swear words. I liked that. It’s got irreverent and inappropriate humour. I also liked that. And it has a particular type of cock-eyed optimism and gratitude only familiar to those who have gotten up close and personal with chronic illness. Was it the best book I’ve read? No. It was sometimes repetitive, the off-beat humour sometimes fell flat, the characters weren’t very well developed (sometimes feeling like caricatures), the protagonist was frequently unlikable and it was hard to live in these circumstances for such a long time. But despite all that, I was glad I read it. There’s something oddly comforting about stepping into the shoes of someone whose circumstances are even shittier than your own, who manage to find a way to keep going and keep loving their family in spite of it all. I felt for Dan and his entire family, and I also envied how much love was there mixed in with all the crap. If you are taking care of an ailing loved one, or if you are dealing with a medical condition yourself, you will find a lot to relate to. 7/10.
Faves
I guess this isn’t too surprising, since I think there’s a good chance each of these will be on my favourites of the year.
Daisy Jones was probably the book that surprised me the most this year. I went into it expecting enjoyable fluff, and found depth and beauty. I can definitely get behind the hype on this one. (The experimental format was also a hit for me.) Patient was another surprise. It left me wanting to read more books about medical experiences, and also more by Ben Watt. I felt a kindred spirit between these pages. My Lovely Wife in the Psych Ward is possibly my favourite book of the year so far. It is raw, heartbreaking and yet full of hope and love. The writing and the content are equally impressive, and I will be forever grateful that I found this book – particularly when I did.
So that’s it for the second quarter of 2019! It’s continuing to be a great reading year, and I’m excited to have found so many standout books in the first half of the year. Here’s hoping the second half lives up!
I’d love to hear from you guys. Which books have you read so far this year? Which were your favourites? Have you read any of these? Share your thoughts in the comments – I’d love to discuss all of these books with you guys!
