Reviews and Comments

A memory of a person the narrator hardly knew in his youth sparks a hypothetical story surrounding a murder. It's offered in crisp prose that ruminates on what we choose to cling to and the fictions we tell ourselves to plaster over our regrets. It is a study of memory's inherent fallibility.

This sequel is not nearly as entertaining or well structured as Shades of Grey. Fforde spends a fair amount of time reestablishing what you learn from the first novel and occasionally removes Eddie from important happenings, stripping the book of its predecessor's charm and effortless immersion. While Red Side Story isn't a poor read, it does, unfortunately, suffer from middle book syndrome. You learn a lot more about the vast workings of this futuristic world but don't get much closer to Jane's and Eddie's goal of titanic change. This novel is also far less humorous, taking on a straighter approach that isn't inherently a bad thing but does leave a different impression.

There's a lot to love about this book. From its heady themes to redactions and inserted reports, it's hard not to get sucked into the Antimemetics Division alongside the characters. The Unknowns are intriguing, unique, and often difficult to grok. The complexity of the Unknowns, the memory manipulation, and the physicality of U-3125 are my kind of science fiction. The reason this read didn't rank higher is because the last quarter of the book is messy and in many ways anticlimactic compared to everything that came before. I was hoping for a crazy, mind-bending finale and got something much less interesting.

These Familiar Walls is a suburban horror set during the 2020 lockdown. Amber and her family move into her childhood home months after her parents' murder. What follows is a dual timeline narrative that centers on her tense childhood friendship with a troubled kid named Nathan and the increasing hauntings of the current day. What transpired in her youth is irrevocably linked to the terrors unfolding in the present.

Dotson writes compelling prose dripping with suspense. Amber, while not the most reliable of narrators, is sympathetic. Nathan, her troubled neighbor, is creepy from his first appearance and only becomes more unhinged and obsessive as the story progresses. I was hooked from the opening chapter and read the novel in two days, but the twist and ending fell flat; I was hoping for something more visceral and thought provoking.

If you enjoy psychological horrors with creepy kids, supernatural happenings, and a protagonist that rides the line between hero and villain, you'll like this one.

Thank you to St. Martin's Press and NetGalley for the advanced copy.

Fforde is a worldbuilding wizard. This dystopian, outlandish novel oozes quirkiness, humor, and hierarchical nonsense while painting a vibrant picture of the Chromatasia. The protagonist, Eddie Russet, begins a life-altering adventure in the Outer Fringes, a place he believed drab or otherwise below his middle-hued status. He meets abrasive Yellows, a feisty Grey, snobbish Purples, and untrustworthy Reds. But what's most exciting is the journey Fforde creates for Eddie. Even when nothing but set building and historical significance seems to unfold, it's hard not to be sucked into the prose.

Shades of Grey is perfect for fantasy lovers and fans of the absurd alike.

I picked this up after someone compared it to Danielewski's House of Leaves. This novel reeled me in with its first contact premise. The graphics and typography are cool but offer little to the already-lacking story. Once I hit the third volume of the eight-part "novella within a novel", I dipped out. While Hughes has a knack for crafting a sentence and designing graphic content, the story was too shallow, meandering, and repetitive for me to power through another 600 pages. It doesn't help that some of the fonts were impossible to read on an e-reader.

I picked this up after skimming similar books and was disappointed by the general lack of content. Most of it could be summed up in a few pages. I stopped reading actively around the 10% mark and skimmed the rest, realizing it's more about creating a space for deep work so you can be another cog in the machine than finding purpose and enjoyment in creating something exceptional by locking in and putting in the hours.

I'd like to note that there's nothing inherently wrong with this classic. Tolkien paved the way for high fantasy and has inspired so many phenomenal works of fiction, from novels to films to tabletop RPGs. But the narrative style of The Lord of the Rings is dry and was difficult to engage with after the hobbits left the Shire. I respect Tolkien and am certain my stories would be vastly different without his influence, but I'd much rather watch the condensed and visually striking films than slog through another thirty hours of text. I understand the draw and loyalty of Tolkien's biggest fans, he simply isn't for me. After struggling through the text for weeks, I finally called it at the 25% mark.

There's nothing revolutionary here. The major takeaway is: Find what's important to you and remove the rest. DNF at 25%

If you're a perpetually busy person seeking meaning and clarity in your everyday life, this one's for you. The book tackles the negatives of ever-increasing productivity, staring down your own mortality, taking the time to enjoy life, embracing mediocrity in hobbies, and finding comfort in who you are rather than striving to be the person you believe you ought to be.

The Problem Drinker, while intoxicating in its opening, loses its shimmer about halfway through. The novelty of a problem drinker dealing with his emotions through literature and alcohol reeled me in but outstayed its welcome in quick measure. The gonzo aesthetic and literary leaning didn't quite land, and the one-page chapters often grazed brilliance, falling just shy of poignance. The romanticization of alcoholism also left a sour taste, and maybe that's on me for not "getting" the appeal or desire to fill the alcoholic writer role.

As a writer, I appreciated Kouri's perspective on endless rejections and self doubt. But it was hard to read those sections separated from the subtext. Kouri is privileged (his mother has ties in film and the stage, he went to Sarah Lawrence, and he can afford to drink to excess in classy bars). He's friends with celebrities from many walks of life (his best friend's dad is Kevin Bacon, he parties with Chuck Tingle, and chills with actors like Kyle Gallner). His constant name dropping felt like virtue signalling, telling the reader (and the universe) that he also belongs in the world of artistic success because everyone around him has "made it". Needless to say the tone didn't win me over.

I give Kouri props for putting this memoir into the world, but this one wasn't for me.

By now, I should know better. While Catriona Ward has great ideas, she's never once landed for me. I'll admit to getting less than halfway through the first chapter. The kids are in a bad situation, but Riley's insistence that they leave NOW isn't brought on by an inciting incident. Unless the supposed inciting incident is a Peter Pan-esque figure coming to their window to deliver a map to Nowhere (which isn't enough of a break in status quo when I've hardly had time to sit with the characters beforehand). Not once did I feel mounting pressure. Neither did the opening pages and characters intrigue me. This is a classic case of "not for me". I'm not the target audience for Ward's work.

While I love Auri as a side character, I couldn't power through a novella where all she does is move objects around and name new sections of the Underthing. DNF at 20%.