Believe Me: A Novel by Molly Garcia

Believe Me: A Novel by Molly Garcia

Believe Me is the kind of novel that defines its genre. It is the perfect psychological thriller, with all the twists and turns and impossible possibilities that make readers clench their teeth while reading.

The novel begins with an explosive arrest; Carrie is carted off while doing her weekly shopping. She is accused and then convicted of murdering three young children in the woods. But did she really do it? The novel revolves around the psychiatric report ordered for her parole hearing several years later, and the investigation Dr Quinn, her appointed psychiatrist, discovers he must conduct to properly write his assessment of her.

Did she do it? Why? Where are their little bodies buried? These are the questions that haunt the compassionate doctor — and the reader.

For readers who enjoy psychological thrillers in the vein of Tana French or Sue Grafton, Believe Me will deliver abundant satisfaction. I found myself comparing Garcia’s novel to Margaret Atwood’s Alias Grace, though this novel is set in the contemporary moment, and a far shorter read. Believe Me is a compact 184 pages, and very well-written. I found myself especially drawn to Garcia’s dialogue. The characters come alive through their conversations; their voices are clear and distinct. Garcia’s prose was smooth and evocative. This reader could feel the tension between Dr Quinn and his patient, between the doctor and the staff at the prison where Carrie is an inmate. The mood Garcia creates is a veil obscuring the truth, one the doctor and the reader will claw at.

Believe Me kept me tilting on the edge throughout its 184 pages — and the ending! What a twist!

The House of Doors: A Novel by Tan Twan Eng

The House of Doors: A Novel by Tan Twan Eng

I was very excited to read The House of Doors, being Malaysian (though now living the diaspora). Tan did not disappoint in any way. I was profoundly moved; the setting of the novel, in high colonial era Penang, evoked a sense of lost history for me, being so far from Malaysia, and culturally divorced from all that home invokes, but I also suffered for the characters and felt the grief of their romantic losses.

This novel is a romantic anti-romance, the kind of romantic novel that mimics tragic, realistic romance in life, with all the attendant unhappy endings and disappoints, guilt and regret, nostalgia and memory that romance actually delivers.

There are two intertwined stories here, that of Lesley Hamlyn, a middle aged British woman living in Penang with her lawyer husband, and “Willie” Somerset Maugham, the novelist who comes to stay with them for a short holiday (which turns into a research and writing expedition). They are products of their British Colonial culture; this is the 1920s, the peak of British rule in Malaya, and they represent the elite class that enjoys all Asia has to offer.

Lesley and Willie form an unusual friendship, and in doing so, the stories of their respective romances is unveiled and threatens both of them and their place in society. Love brings both of them pain and escape; traps them and offers them a way out.

Tan tackles tough subjects: queerness, interracial romance, sexuality and sex, gendered expectations — all things the British were (are?) notorious for suppressing at home and abroad. Tan does this with great skill; the writing is gorgeous. A particular ocean scene utterly devastated me; I was as submerged as the characters in it.

This is a book I will need for my personal library.

Heartland: A Memoir of Working Hard and Being Broke in the Richest Country on Earth by Sarah Smarsh

Heartland: A Memoir of Working Hard and Being Broke in the Richest Country on Earth by Sarah Smarsh

Heartland is a memoir at the intersection of Educated by Tara Westover and Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich. For readers who actively seek out trying on someone else’s shoes, Smarsh’s memoir will amply deliver.

Heartland explores the experiences of four generations of women and men in a working-class class family in rural Kansas, delving into their experiences of love, marriage, work, and education. The book is sectioned into thematic chapters, rather than being strictly chronological, covering her family’s peripatetic travels across the state for work, romance, love — and all too often, sanctuary and safety. Readers should know the book discusses abuse and neglect in a multitude of ways; violence is woven in the fabric of these women’s lives, both a symptom and cause of their poverty.

The book includes a massive cast of individuals from both sides of Smarsh’s family. [A family tree map would have been a helpful addition, but this is a minor detraction.] Through this account and interpretation of her family’s history, Smarsh makes an argument for greater attention to the social, cultural, and gendered reasons for poverty in America. She challenges the popular and misguided myth of meritocracy, especially highlighting the multiple ways spousal and domestic violence play an enormous role in this societal problem.

Smarsh’s delivery of this message lacks — thankfully — pedantism or blame, focusing instead on the interconnected web of cultural expectations and histories which have resulted in these outcomes. Her writing also is smooth, journalistic, and easily accessible; in fact, evoking an emotional response from this reader on more than one occasion.

Heartland is a fantastic non-fiction read on poverty, especially among the white working class, in middle America.

Yellowface: A Novel by R.F. Kuang

Yellowface: A Novel by R.F. Kuang

Easily the best novel I have read this year. Or, at least, the most engaging and ire-provoking one. If you haven’t yet read Yellowface, you must. The novel is one of those you just can’t put down because you are dying to know what next wreck is going to happen.

The main character is a woman you’ll hate. The victim is also pretty unlovable. And the psychological twists lead to an unpredictable and yet oh-so-predictable ending. I know I’m being coy. Just read the book. You won’t regret it.

The novel revolves around two authors, one who plagiarizes another in the most god-awful way possible. And then more or less gets away with it. Sort of. That’s it. That’s the book.

But oh, the way Kuang tells it is so deliciously witty. The snark and sharp edginess of resentment and guilt and hate is palpable in Kuang’s prose. It’s the kind of writing that stirs up hot and fiery anger in the reader. I loved it.

Read it.

Get on that ridiculously long library hold list and wait for this book. So worth it.

Facing the Mountain: An Inspiring Story of Japanese American Patriots in World War II by Daniel James Brown

Facing the Mountain: An Inspiring Story of Japanese American Patriots in World War II by Daniel James Brown

I joined my local public library Adult Book Club and this was the first book I read with the group.

As an Asian and Asian American, I was immediately drawn the subject matter in Brown’s book. Given the rabid anti-Asian hate that has been on the rise in this country since Covid-19, non-fiction like this serves to do more than illuminate obscured histories; they emphasize the significance of diversity in American identity and entrench the idea that Asian American citizens — long held as “perpetual strangers/aliens” — belong in American society.

Facing The Mountain did not disappoint. While the book is a non-fiction history written for a popular press and a general adult audience, its methodology and archival research would more than satisfy any academic reviewer. Brown drew, not only from archives, but from oral histories and interviews to produce a historical monograph of significant breadth.

The book begins with the Japanese and Japanese American community in Hawai’i, but also explores the larger Japanese diaspora in the United States, on the mainland. Indeed, one of the highlights of the book is its attention to the diversity of voices within the Japanese American community: Mainlanders and Islanders came from very different cultures, sometimes held opposing views, and certainly cannot be assumed to be a monolithic society with a single voice. Its chapters explore the nuances of these different ideas within the community and how Japanese people across the United States, diverse in their social and economic class, gender, and generation, reacted to and handled the Presidential executive orders which sent them to internment camps and cast them out of American society as “enemy aliens.” Chapters document Japanese citizens’ resistance, compliance, sorrow, and joy, allowing the reader to witness the experience of WWII in many ways.

Facing The Mountain focuses heavily on the military experience as well, both domestically and abroad, which made the reading of this book novel for me. I do not typically gravitate toward military histories, finding many of them dry and clunky. But Brown turned this into a social history of the US military and the 442nd Regiment, making it a lively and very enjoyable read.

This was the very appealing part of Facing The Mountain for me; Brown made this political and military history feel intimate. It is, in fact, a prosopography. Facing the Mountain follows a cast of specific individuals and families who occupy different roles, careers, and places in the United States and American society. Through their experiences the readers views the entire landscape of the Japanese American perspective of WWII.

Perfume River: A Novel by Kathleen Patrick

Perfume River: A Novel by Kathleen Patrick

Perfume River is a New Adult bildungsroman, revolving around a young woman named Sam as she navigates her life around competing stakeholders: lovers, friends, herself. She is also wrestling with her past, specifically, her dysfunctional childhood and relationship with her parents. She encounters a young black boy, also suffering through his own life and problems. Together, they attempt to make sense of the world around them and the demands made upon them, to be adults, to grow up, to take on the consequences of others’ decisions. 

My review of the novel is mixed. On the one hand, the novel is well-written, in a technical sense; Patrick’s prose is smooth, even, and consistent. As with her other work, her use of words is sparse and succinct, leaving the reader to indulge in their own imaginings of the space and events. The pauses and silences are evocative. 

On the other hand, unlike Patrick’s other works, Mercy and Anxiety in the Wilderness, Perfume River lacks emotional depth. Overall, this novel does not deliver on its emotional promise, the one made in its synopsis. 

There are absences which flattened Sam and Rexel as individuals. The muteness of Rexel’s family and the superficial context of his life beyond his encounters and engagement with Sam were a detraction for this reader. The reader is treated to one facet of Rexel’s emotive life: his wariness, his diffidence, his armor. Sam doesn’t seem to really break through Rexel’s armor in a meaningful way so that the friendship benefits him. A deeper view into Rexel’s life beyond Sam, perhaps his own chapters, would flesh him out further as a primary actor in this story. (Or, perhaps, the story isn’t or shouldn’t be about him. Is this really Sam’s story and not his?)

Ultimately, for this reader, what is lacking in the story is change. Sam’s metamorphosis is too subtle, delivered too late in the novel. Much of the novel feels like it isn’t “going anywhere” as the events which are meant to serve as catalysts are given too brief of a treatment. This reader found it difficult to connect with the other characters in order to feel the tension between them and Sam. Much of the tension that exists is situational, but the internal psychological turmoil they cause is left unsaid; this absence hindered this reader’s ability to connect with Sam and these other characters. 

For this reader, the Prologue was the most compelling element of the novel; it was intriguing and suggests a story about dysfunctional families. However, the distance between Sam’s childhood and adulthood is not bridged by the remainder of the novel.

Overall, for this reader, the novel did not deliver on its synopsis’ promise; it feels unfinished, like it hasn’t had time to fully develop. Its characters feel under-developed, as if the author hasn’t had time to get to know them fully yet, and as a result, this story of their lives only skims their surfaces. 

All this said, I am a fan of Kathleen Patrick’s work and look forward to her next novel. 

Wondrous Transformations: A Maverick Physician, the Science of Hormones, and the Birth of the Transgender Revolution by Alison Li

Wondrous Transformations: A Maverick Physician, the Science of Hormones, and the Birth of the Transgender Revolution by Alison Li

I was thrilled to read this. There remain far fewer transgender historical monographs in the field, compared to the number published in other sub-disciplines. This biography of Harry Benjamin, an endocrinologist whose research and promotion of the effect of hormones on the human body, gender, and perceptions of health, fills a gap in our understanding of the formation of gender and transgender in the 20th century.

Li’s monograph is well-researched, pulling from a variety of sources to build a fleshy portrait of the man, but not only him; as with all good histories, Li produces a landscape of the era for the reader to understand the context of the individual. Benjamin, however, was a man beyond his time, thinking of gender in ways more similar to our own period than his — but that is the point: Benjamin is one of the forerunners of the way we think about gender today, as a spectrum. It is the contrast between him and his contemporaries which helps the reader visualize this landscape.

The chapters are chronological (rather than strictly thematic), offering the reader a clear trajectory of how concepts of gender and transgender — and here, especially — how the use of hormones became mainstream and effected changes in how medicine and healthcare as a whole.

I hesitate to write a full academic review as the digital review copy I had expired! Readers, this is a worthy book to read to grasp an often un-addressed aspect of transgender history!

Under the Java Moon: A Novel of World War II by Heather B. Moore

Under the Java Moon: A Novel of World War II by Heather B. Moore

For those interested in the Pacific theater of WWII and the lived experiences of Japanese occupation, Under the Java Moon delivers a poignant and moving story of loss and perseverance.

The novel follows the Vischer family, Dutch colonials living in Indonesia when the Japanese arrive and occupy the region. George, an engineer is drafted into service, separated from his family, who are marched out of their home and into the enemy alien camp at Tjideng. Told through the eyes of George, Mary, and their young daughter, Rita, the reader is immersed in the experience of living through war.

The novel and story is emotional and psychologically nuanced, but — for this reader — sanitized. While I felt sympathy for the Vischers, I felt no emotional pull, no real heart-wrenching, which — perhaps strange to say — I expect to feel from a story of this genre.

Moore’s novel is well-crafted as a historical novel; pertinent historical events serve as the structure of the story, without it turning into a history textbook. But it is unfortunate that we only see the Dutch perspective of WWII here, and very little of the Indonesian experience. I would have liked to seen a little more balance of perspectives.

Overall, an enjoyable read, though less profound that its subject suggests.

Trail of the Lost: The Relentless Search to Bring Home the Missing Hikers of the Pacific Crest Trail by Andrea Langford

Trail of the Lost:
The Relentless Search to Bring Home the Missing Hikers of the Pacific Crest Trail by Andrea Langford

This work of true crime utterly possessed me; I am torn between wanting my hiking friends to read it, because I don’t want any of these awful things to happen to them, or not wanting them to read it, because it will terrify them into never venturing into the wilds again. (I am probably going to buy a few copies of this book this Christmas as gifts for those same friends!) Anyone who knows someone who hikes or camps or goes “off trail” for any reason should have an eye out for this book.

The depth of Lankford’s research, the number of interviews and observations, and the countless hours and days and weeks spent in Search and Rescue to make this book happen is staggering; that alone is a draw for anyone interested in this kind of crime non-fiction. Lankford themself is well-positioned to write on the subject. As a former ranger involved in several S&R investigations, Lankford is more than a hiker. Here, Lankford takes on the role of investigative journalist, detective, social worker, and friend.

The book focuses on the disappearances of three men (primarily) from the Pacific Crest Trail, which runs along the West Coast, from California up to and through Washington State. Kris Fowler, David O’Sullivan, and Chris Sylvia vanished from the trail in mysterious circumstances and have yet to be found, alive or otherwise.

But, of course, the book is about more than them and their individual cases; Trail of the Lost is also about their families and loved ones, the grief and pain of their loss, the process and protocols of police and other investigations into vanishings, and — perhaps this is where the book truly shines and connects with readers on a wholly different level — the culture of the trail and of extreme hiking. By giving readers a view into the the lure of these activities and the perils they entail, Trail illuminates certain flaws in our societal ideals and in the normative flows of life around work-family-friendship-community. Lankford highlights what might be missing in our urban/suburban spaces that trails like this offer. Chapters that seemingly veer off onto tangential subjects, like the Yellow Deli Group, or suspicious and creepy “trail trolls” in fact, draw attention to deeply inclusive, welcoming, altruistic, and connected the culture of the PCT and hiking is (or can be).

The irony is, of course, that individuals take on these hikes individually; they seek isolation — and yet, the culture of the trail highlights the deep dependence we, as humans, have on each other, and our need for social contact, a sense of belonging with others, a sense of community.

Freshwater Fire: A Novella by Hubert L. Mullins

Freshwater Fire: A Novella by Hubert L. Mullins

If you’re looking for a creeping, eerie read for the wintry months to come, Freshwater Fire must be on your to-be-read list. Forget Halloween, with its flashy, trashy gore, Mullins’ slim novella, with its sparse and evocative prose, and its fog-shrouded terror, brings out of the deepest of our fears as the decay of winter descends. This is a book to curl up to with candle light when the storm takes out the electricity. Or… maybe, that might just send you over the edge into madness. Read at your own risk, right?

I took this risk on this novella. I usually hesitate to spend money or time on independently published fiction; the gamble so often doesn’t pay off. But Mullins is a talented writer. With very few words, Freshwater Fire summons the smell of decay and manifests humanity’s darkest fears: that we are not alone in this world and worse, we are not as invincible as we would like to believe. Mullins builds a devastating sense of futility that the reader cannot shake off. This is a classic gothic horror.

The tale revolves around a lighthouse and its new keepers, sailors who quickly find the isolation of their task is more than a mental exercise in surviving entrapment. Their fears are more than simply psychological, they are real and monstrous. For readers who enjoy mythology, paranormal elements, and psychological thrillers, Freshwater Fire will deliver a satisfying reward.

The story aside, Mullins’ characters are fleshy, their dialogue and fear is palpable. Their reactions to their circumstances are more than plausible, revealing Mullins’ deep understanding of the human psyche and the lengths we will go, not only to survive but must do to overcome our fears. Terrifying as this novella is, it is also inspiring.

I look forward to Mullins’ other novels! They are on my wish list!