Monday, January 25, 2021

Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas

 

There was a good idea hiding in this book, but it somehow missed the page. While I understand where the exciting points should be in this mysterious, slightly gothic novel, the anti-climactic way everything gets presented muted the entire story. I say all this upfront because I'm not sure you should even keep reading this review. This was not a book for me.

Catherine House is almost like an abstract painting. You can kind of feel what's going on, but nothing is drawn in a way that hits you over the head. I typically read mysterious stories to feel a 'wow' at some point. It's a, "wow, I didn't see that coming" or, "wow, I can't believe that actually happened." There were no 'wow's' here. Even the 'a-ha moments, as characters discover certain truths in the story, felt lackadaisical. 

It's even hard for me to summarize this story because so much about it bugs me, or falls short. Of course, I'll do it anyway, to a certain extent, this is a book review after all....

Catherine House is a college you go to for free if you get in. The only caveat is you can't make any contact with the outside world the entire time you're enrolled. You don't leave, there's no television, you're completely isolated. The admissions committee (if there is one) seems to target a certain type of student. They're all lost souls, I think, who aren't leaving behind anyone they have strong ties with, even if that includes their families. Why kids want to go here is never really made clear.

The school is also associated with a controversial area of science known as plasm. This isn't the study of a physical substance, like the name alludes to, but rather a force that somehow connects things and allows energy to be shared. In the past, the science was presented and shunned, so it's odd the school is still pursuing it without any type of review from the outside. Oh, and they're also experimenting on the students.

Then, there's The Tower, the location for near-torture punishment that nobody seems to have a problem with. Even when a student dies while there, we're all "cool" with it.

Everything about this book feels odd and not fully flushed out. The end lacks a much-needed sense of immediacy and sense. Through it all, the school seems to come away unscathed, as much by the outside world as the students who are suffering within its walls. It just doesn't feel entirely plausible. Even the student with the greatest internal conflict can't break fully away. It should feel scary, but it didn't.

It's okay to skip this one in my opinion. It's missing something, or a lot of things, to establish that emotional connection you want to feel when reading a story. At the very least, you want to feel some way about the characters, or the plot. I didn't.

Friday, January 15, 2021

Just Like You by Nick Hornby

 

Book club book #13

Nick Hornby won my heart with High Fidelity. Yes, I watched the movie first, and my love for John Cusack is decades old, but the book held up. From there, I've read others, so was excited to see a new book publish.

It's also nice that Hornby keeps things current. This book begins only a few years behind where we are today. Ending just before the pandemic, it's still nice to read a story within the obvious context of now. His decision to weave in conversations on Brexit and talk about Trump make it apparent that what the characters are dealing with here are still happening today.

And, Joseph and Lucy, the two main characters, are dealing with a lot. Most of what's happening stems from their relationship. They're having trouble overcoming their own personal issues. From race to age, and all that falls in between, they've got a lot to process. But, they like each other, and their connection is genuine. It may work out.

Of course, that involves overcoming the fact that Lucy is a nearly-divorced, mom of two, in her forties. She's a teacher, and she's smart. Joseph is 22. He works a few jobs to keep the money coming in while he tries to build a career as a DJ. He still lives at home with his mom. Lucy and Joseph meet at the butcher shop where Joseph works and Lucy shops. They make a connection when Joseph starts babysitting for Lucy's boys.

On top of all this, Lucy is white. Joseph is black. And, they may be on different sides of the Brexit vote. There's so much to process between the two of them, but it's even harder when they realize friends are going to have interact with them as a couple. Will Joseph always be the token person of color, or the kid? Will Lucy stand out like a sore thumb at the clubs?

It's all so much, complicated by the sometimes muddled language that occurs when someone who speaks American English (me) reads someone writing in British English. The struggle to figuring out the intricacies of this complex relationship, though, felt very real. It moved slowly, which is what you'd expect. 

I didn't feel like the characters were given equal treatment, so expect to be in Joseph's head much more than Lucy's. Also, expect Joseph, maybe because of his age, to grow more as a person. 

Overall, I liked this book and feel like Hornby has stayed true to his style and directness of character. I love the flaws he gives his characters and the complications he creates from seemingly simple origins. This is a good one. Read on friends!

Monday, January 4, 2021

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid

 

Whether you like this book or not, it's impossible to not call it fascinating. Tracing the life of celebrity actress, Evelyn Hugo, you're given a behind-the-veil look at Old Hollywood and the struggles of being a successful woman in an industry that loves control.

Coming up in the 50's and 60's, Evelyn has an innate sense of how to work the system. She's gorgeous, and immediately begins using that, and the expectation that she needs a husband, to her advantage. Throughout an illustrious career, this leads to seven husbands. 

Her relationships are shrouded in assumptions, with only the media's speculations to show any insight. The truth is much more interesting.

Now, nearing the end of her life, Evelyn handpicks an up-and-coming journalist to capture her story. Her lack of skills makes it a curious choice, but there's a twist.

Monique has hit with a few pieces during her limited career as a writer. It's enough to get her a good job, with potential for growth. Her personal life, on the other hand, is a bit of a mess. She's grappling with the separation from her husband, and his subsequent move across the country. It's not that she misses him, she doesn't know how she really feels. That uncertainty is unsettling. It lingers until the call comes in from Evelyn's people. Monique has been specifically requested to do a piece, but what the opportunity becomes is a chance to capture the complete story of Evelyn's life. The truths Evelyn shares turn into more of a confession, a reveal of the life she really lived, who she really loved. She admits to mistakes with no regrets. She knows where she is happened because of all the good and bad in her past.

As Monique and Evelyn unravel this single life, a deeper connection is made. Monique finds herself, her voice. She's inspired by a woman who manipulated more strings to propel her life forward than you'd think possible.

Then, an informational bomb drops. Monique is forced to see an integral moment in her own life differently. Now she must decide how complicated her hate, and her respect, is for the woman who just shared her full story.

This book is somewhere between a piece of fictional commentary and a beach read. It goes fast, feels a bit cliche at times, but then hits you with a surprise whammy that makes you think. I liked the strength portrayed here by the female characters alongside their fallibility. I liked that nobody belonged on a pedestal, and that human nature was carefully explored from every angle. I liked the light the book shed on the fear that came with living outside the mainstream when that term still held all the value. This is an interesting and entertaining book, with just the right mix of emotions. Recommended.

Also by Taylor Jenkins Reid: