Memorable
I just finished Say You’ll Remember Me, by Abby Jimenez, and it seems that I am among the few who enjoyed it more than some of her other popular titles. I think I did because it was a simple story with mostly believable obstacles that came from real-world issues and not from elaborate mind games on the part of its protagonists.
The problem I frequently have with these contemporary relationship novels is that they require so much suspension of disbelief. Every trope comes with its moment where you think “Oh, c’mon, nobody would be that obtuse!” So often there are massive misunderstandings that keep couples apart, but the story relies on the reader accepting that, despite being in a relationship, these people never talk to one another, that they make blanket assumptions they don’t check out, then refuse to believe credible evidence, etc., and after a while I become impatient that I’m reading a book whose whole premise depends on two people not initiating one simple conversation.
This one was refreshingly different. It did have its flaws—but for the most part it felt believable to me.
Samantha has been living in Minnesota, having been drawn there for her work. She finds and decides to adopt a kitten, and takes it to a veterinarian who gives her advice she absolutely does not want to take. She is incensed by his attitude, which feels defeatist, and decides to prove him wrong, but when she actually pulls it off, she is surprised to discover that he readily admits he was mistaken and apologizes. Then Dr. Xavier Rush asks her out. Since his revised attitude comes along with Greek god-like good looks and a particular intensity that appeals to Sam, she decides to accept. They have one absolutely perfect date, and then everything blows up. Samantha had learned that her mother’s early-onset Alzheimers is advancing at a rapid rate and realized that she needs to be spending time with her and helping her family with her mom’s care, and she is scheduled to move back home to California the very next day.
That’s the real-world conflict that keeps them apart: geography and bad timing. They resolve to forget what might have been if they could have continued seeing one another…but neither Sam nor Xavier seems able to move past their undeniable connection.
The problem is, neither can change their circumstances to make a move. Xavier just opened his veterinary clinic a couple of years previous and is in debt for the start-up in an amount greater than he could get for selling it. And he can’t just hire someone to work there and run it in his absence, because he can’t afford to pay them—he’s been living on the leftovers after the loan payments are made, but no one else would do that. He’s stuck in Minnesota until circumstances change, but that could take a decade. And Samantha can’t and won’t shirk her responsibilities and cut her ties just to be with him.
But having a long-distance relationship with the burdens under which each of them is operating is nearly impossible, and although they give it a try, the thought that this situation might last for years is so daunting that neither of them is happy.
What happens when the person you have realized is “the one” for you can’t be in your life for more than a weekend every three months?
There were some features of the story that were less believable than others, and it does bog down in the middle when the angsty stuff becomes somewhat repetitive, but the attention to the details of Xavier’s back story, Samantha’s relationship with her family, and their undeniable chemistry when together keep it going. If you’re looking for a less formulaic relationship story, try this one.
Age and time
After 900+ pages of frustrating and confusing murder mystery, I needed a break from the serious, so I picked up two books in a row by Sophie Cousens, whose books are billed as romantic comedies. I don’t know that I would go that far, although there are comedic elements and/or moments. But I did find them enjoyable, one more than the other, although the one I liked second-best is apparently her most popular.
First I read Is She Really Going Out With Him?, mainly because I am a big fan of Joe Jackson. If you don’t get that reference, you are probably too young—Joe made his mark in the 1970s. But do go to Spotify and dial up his song by the same name—you might find a new favorite musician, who knows? If you like the song, then follow up by playing his album Night & Day.
Anyway…the premise of this one is engaging, although you sort of know what will happen at the end by pretty early on. Still, it’s amusing the way the story takes you there. It’s the tale of a divorcée with two children and not much interest in (or success with) renewing the dating game. Anna is a columnist for a popular but struggling arts magazine that has just been bought by a larger company, and she’s nervous that her job is on the line; the new publisher wants material that is more social media-attuned than her traditional approach—more personal, more anecdotal, more relateable. She is doubly alarmed when she gets the idea that her office rival, Will, may be trying to poach her column.
She ultimately has a contest of sorts with him, when he proposes to the publisher that they do a dual column. Anna decides that Will will write about going out with seven women he discovers on dating apps, while Anna will give up the details of the same number of dates with men chosen by her children. Since they are young and enthusiastic (seven and 12) and not particularly discriminating in their choices, her dating pool is a weird one, but Anna gamely holds up her end of the competition. But working together with Will presents more problems than just fending off his job takeover…
Yes, it’s pretty trope-y, and yes it’s been done before, but Cousens does have a gift for character development and for comedic moments that keep this one pretty fresh. And yeah, an author who references Joe Jackson…
The second book, The Good Part, reminded me of a few other books (in a good way), foremost being What Alice Forgot, by Liane Moriarty. In that book, Alice gets conked on the head and forgets about the past decade of her life, in which significant things happened (she had kids, she got divorced), which makes it awkward and sometimes comical when she keeps trying to relate to people the way she did in the moment to which she has been returned by amnesia. The Good Part is sort of the opposite of that, because Lucy Young doesn’t forget her past, precisely, she just anticipates her future so hard that she suddenly wakes up there one morning.
Lucy is 26, a downtrodden TV production assistant who is tired of fighting for the promotion that never comes, tired of living in a dump with three inconsiderate roommates and a ceiling that leaks on her bed every time the upstairs neighbor takes a bath, and one night when she takes shelter in a news agent’s during a downpour and discovers a curious wishing machine, she puts a coin in the slot and wishes hard to be past all this and into the “good part” of her life.
Next morning she awakens with a ring on her finger that the handsome man downstairs apparently put there, and a closet full of really expensive designer shoes. But she also has two children about whom she has no memory, a high-powered job she doesn’t know how to do, and a shockingly old (40-something) face confronting her in the bathroom mirror! She has apparently been transported ahead 16 years but retains only the memories of her life up to age 26, which in her mind was last night.
Not wanting to be diagnosed as mentally ill, she tries for a while to “fake it until she makes it,” but with variable success (especially with her older child, who thinks an alien has possessed his mummy). At first she firmly believes that the mysterious machine has transported her here, and that she will wake up the next day back in her grotty apartment, but when this doesn’t happen, she also has to confront the idea that she may simply have amnesia and has conjured a crazy reason for it.
The most interesting part of the book is Lucy’s inner debate about what she really wants. She has it all—but at the cost of missing the entire experience of getting there. Her husband remembers them falling in love, the birth of their children, her climb up the professional ladder, but inside Lucy is still that single girl who has never been able to afford nice things, doesn’t know if she wants to have kids, wonders if she should ditch her career for something different…and now that she is seemingly in the middle part of her life, she has to decide whether she will settle into the wonderful achievements and relationships she doesn’t remember establishing, or try to get back to her past so she can experience them all first-hand—or possibly make different decisions? This quandary is complicated by the fact that what she ends up doing (if she is able to figure out how) may impact not just the lives but the very existence of the husband and children staring at her with so many questions in their eyes…
These books were a great way to while away a few days. I might even read more Cousens the next time I get burned out on long, serious, and complicated.
Best or worst?
It is almost unprecedented that contemporary romance writer Emily Henry would have a rating under 4.0 on Goodreads for one of her books, but Great Big Beautiful Life is scoring a 3.99. It is even more rare for people to actually write “DNF” (did not finish) and discard one of her books before finishing it but, again, that has happened here. And yet, minus a few issues, it has been my favorite of her books to date.
Perhaps that is because I almost always want more than just the meet-cute, the enemies-to-lovers, the fake relationship, or whatever trope this genre’s authors employ while trying to make the rest of the story unique by the choice of professions for the protagonists or whatever other quirks they can throw in to make it distinctive. And this book has two story lines in it, each somewhat dependent on the other, that to me made it so much more interesting than the standard fare.
Alice Scott is a reliable writer of biographical stories and celebrity puff pieces for a reputable magazine. But she dreams of getting that big break that will take her to the next level and let her write more serious work, whether it’s articles or a book. Hayden Anderson just published his biography of a celebrity who struggled to capture his legacy as Alzheimer’s stole his memories, for which Hayden won a Pulitzer Prize. And now these two writers are in competition for a story that would be a huge score—the biography of Margaret Ives, the heir to a vast family fortune and an enduring social impact.
In her youth, Margaret lived a privileged existence as a frivolous and charismatic fixture of the society pages and the tabloids; but family tragedies and scandal drove her underground, and no one has heard from or about her in decades. Alice, however, fascinated by her for both personal and professional reasons, has tracked her down to a small island off the coast of Georgia, where she is living a secluded and anonymous life, and Alice has gone to see her, to pitch the idea of working with her to write her story. She has competition, however, that she didn’t count on, and is dismayed to discover that it’s a famous writer with a Pulitzer already under his belt. Margaret, both canny about the value of her story and also deeply distrustful of journalists (and people in general), offers them each an opportunity: Stay on the island for one month, meet with her regularly (and separately) to talk about her past and also to outline how each of them thinks her story should be told, and abide by her decision at the end of the month when she picks one of them with whom to move forward.
In addition to being in competition and not wanting to reveal their strategies to the other writer, Alice and Hayden are bound by airtight non-disclosure agreements they signed for Margaret, swearing not to talk to anyone about the contents of their meetings with her, including with one another. But it’s a small island with limited places to stay, eat, walk, and shop, and it’s inevitable they will run into each other; so they have to work out a relationship that is civil while avoiding all talk of why they are actually in this place. This proves challenging for several reasons. (Yeah, you see where this is going.)
The story switches back and forth between Margaret’s first-person reminiscences of growing up rich, famous, and beleaguered by notoriety, and the present-day thoughts and feelings of Alice and Hayden as they weather this month of testing by Margaret and their burgeoning feelings for one another. This is apparently what a lot of her fans didn’t like—both the jumping back and forth between past and present, and the intrusion of another person’s life story into the middle of their romance. But I found it an effective contrast and was caught up in both stories as they evolved.
In the contemporary story, we are much more involved with Alice, while Hayden remains a mystery. The story is primarily driven by Alice’s inner thoughts and by her encounters with and reflections on Hayden, which works with their personalities—Alice’s sunny and outgoing, and Hayden’s secretive and a bit dour. But ultimately we figure out what he’s thinking and feeling too, based on his actions and responses to her, and begin to hope that things might work out between them despite all the obstacles in their path. Picture, for instance, the feelings of a person in a relationship who loses out on a dream job to the person with whom they are involved. Also, they live in different places (Alice in Atlanta and Hayden in New York) and come from and pursue completely different lifestyles. But…there is a spark. More than a spark. So one way or another they have to figure it out.
There was only one thing that didn’t work for me about this story and, while it wouldn’t normally faze me, in this context I found it both inappropriate and awkward. It was all the sex. I wouldn’t normally believe I’d ever say something like that, but in this case I found it positively jarring in the way it distracted from the story. In fact, it was more than just a distraction—I felt like it flat-out didn’t work and shouldn’t have been there.
When Alice and Hayden figure out that they have feelings for one another, they make an agreement that it would be just too much, too weird, too tragic for them to get physically involved during their audition month with Margaret, because of what will happen at the end of that month. So they promise to “be harmless to one another,” and put off a physical relationship despite the attraction between them. That all makes sense. Then they (Alice in particular) do everything they can to test that resolve and flout every rule they make for themselves. I’m sure the author thought that making them irresistible to one another would be exciting, but for me it was offputting to see that they couldn’t stick to their resolve for a month, in the interests of not hurting the other person long-term. And the way that the physical relationship was portrayed was likewise distracting to the story, in that it “just happened” at strategic intervals, almost as if an editor looked over the manuscript and said to Emily Henry, “Oh, your readers won’t put up with no sex in a romance,” and Henry responded by writing calculatedly provocative scenes, and then counted off pages and dropped one in here and there almost out of the blue. It was so inorganic!
Don’t let my irritation with this stop you from reading this book; it’s interesting, and convoluted enough with its twists and big reveals to be a compelling story. But after you have finished it, see if your reaction was the same as mine, and let me know!
Yours Truly…except…
I wanted something a little more realistic after immersing myself in the sci-fi/fantasy of Discworld, but nothing too heavy. So I picked up Abby Jiminez’s most recent contemporary romance, Yours Truly. I am always torn when I read romance, because there is a tiny portion of my brain (heart?) that wishes things could go the way they do in these books, but a larger percentage that keeps saying “C’mon!” every few chapters.
There were things to like about this book. The male protagonist, Dr. Jacob Maddox, is almost too good to be true, except for one major thing that makes the story much more realistic: He suffers from nearly paralyzing anxiety (and, although it’s not named, possibly a little OCD as well). I liked the way the author incorporated this, because we don’t see much of these very common yet hidden conditions in this kind of fiction. The female protagonist, Dr. Briana Ortiz, is a quirky, interesting person with a hair-trigger temper and a great sense of humor who is currently dealing with some serious issues: divorce, a brother who needs a kidney transplant, work stress. Again, the sensitive and stark way the author dealt with the brother’s need for a new kidney and the likelihood he wouldn’t get one was a positive element. The way the author introduces the two characters and the initial misunderstandings followed by Jacob’s unusual solution to their hostility drew me in. (I love some epistolic fiction…)
Having acknowledged those elements, I now have to say that the book was not ultimately a success in my eyes for one reason: TOO. MANY. TROPES. Yes, I did all that capitalization and punctuation on purpose, because, as I noted earlier, “C’mon!”
We have:
• Workplace competition (rivals to lovers)
• Recovering from a breakup (both of them) so, rebound!
• Fake dating (pretending they’re in a relationship when they are not…or are they?)
• Uncomfortable (but suggestive) situations caused by the above
• Realization that they are soul mates
• Miscommunication that pollutes the relationship
• LACK of communication (bordering on the ridiculous) that rips them apart
The whole thing ultimately made me so tired.
I will admit that I really liked the characters, which is probably what carried me through the rest of the sturm und drang. And there were a couple of hilarious incidents that will make this book forever memorable. (In one case it’s killing me not to drop a spoiler here.) But the completely unnecessary angst that resulted from each of the characters being too cowardly to ask a simple question of the other for fear the answer wouldn’t be what they wanted to hear was not only implausible but became unbearable as the situation was drawn out for about 85 percent of the book. And the interminable inner monologues about said miscommunication made me want to bang their heads together (or mine against a wall).
I don’t quite know what to say; it was one of those books that you liked pretty well when you finished it, and then began to pick apart as you gained the perspective of days away plus other, better books as contrast. I won’t say don’t read it; but go in knowing that it is in some ways almost a parody of its genre.
HEA with soundtrack
At some point, for some reason, I put The Happy Ever After Playlist, by Abby Jiminez, on my library holds list, and it turned up about a week ago, so I read it. It was good timing, because I was in the mood for something involving but not taxing, if that makes sense.
The culmination is sorta promised to you in the title, but there is a lot (a LOT) of angst and drama between the first page and the last to keep you on your toes. One Goodreads reviewer described this as Justin Bieber fan fiction for adults, which is a little unkind but also somewhat accurate; but there is definitely more to it.
Some of the tropes were a little much: insta-love, co-dependency, traditional role-play, unnecessarily complicated situations provoked by hasty assumptions. But there were some winning characters and situations that retrieved it from cliché and, overall, I enjoyed the read.
The female protagonist, Sloan Monroe, is a painter, which caught my interest. She is also stuck firmly in the aftermath of losing her fiancé to a motorcycle accident almost two years ago, and has gradually let go of avocation, family, friends, and all but the most necessary of functions as she allows her grief to bury her in a trench of depression and inactivity. Only her best friend, Kristen, and Kristen’s husband, Josh, refuse to allow her to be solitary; they are constant in bringing over meals, binge-watching TV shows for an evening, and making a point to phone her every day to check in.
Then coincidence (or fate) takes a hand. Sloan is out doing errands when a stray dog runs into the road, forcing her to slam on her brakes, whereupon the dog climbs up her car and drops down through her sun roof. He’s chipped, so Sloan calls the phone number listed for his owner, Jason, but there is never any answer, and after more than a week, the voice mail is full. So although she never planned on having a dog, she decides, with this lack of response from his owner, to take Tucker on, and having him around reshapes her life into a more healthy profile. Now, she has to get out of bed, get dressed, and leave the house in order to walk the dog. This one change leads to others, and soon Sloan is feeling more like herself.
Jason finally gets in touch and wants his dog back, but Sloan is suspicious; why did it take him so long? Is he really a fit pet parent? This provokes a back-and-forth of texts and phone calls revealing that Jason took a break to go walkabout in Australia for two weeks, leaving his dog with someone who turned out to be untrustworthy. As they keep calling and texting, they both realize there is something between them, some spark, and look forward to meeting. But Jason, a musician on the rise, is on the cusp of a big shift in his career, and Sloan doesn’t know whether she will be able to come second to such an all-consuming lifestyle.
I thoroughly enjoyed both this set-up and the early days of the relationship, but there were parts of the book where I wanted to lecture (or slap) one or the other of them for making things so much more difficult than they had to be. Also, the insta-love was exceedingly insta (one week in, they can’t live without each other?), and the misunderstandings between them seemed avoidable if only they would sit down for 15 minutes and have a good heart-to-heart. And finally, the dog, Tucker, needed to be more prominent throughout!
Still, it kept my attention and proved as entertaining and non-taxing as I had wished. I also really liked the musical playlist that Jiminez incorporated as chapter headings, which, if you listen to the songs as you go, enhance the mood of the book. A fun conceit.
(There is a prequel, called The Friend Zone, which is the story of Kristen and Josh.)
Digging Finlay
I just finished the newest offering from Elle Cosimano in the Finlay Donovan series, and it definitely lived up to its predecessors and gave me a good time during the three days I took to read it. I have reviewed all the other books in the series on this blog; if you read the review of the first one, it will tell you all you need to know to pull you into this tale of the single mom/romance author who gets mistaken for a contract killer.
The books are, in order: Finlay Donovan is Killing It, Finlay Donovan Knocks ’em Dead, Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun, Finlay Donovan Rolls the Dice, and this latest, Finlay Donovan Digs Her Own Grave. (There is also a book 3.5, a novella of 107 pages that reveals some of the back story of nanny Vero Ruiz, called Veronica Ruiz Breaks the Bank. That’s the only one I haven’t read…yet.)
As with the others in the series, not a lot of time has passed since the events of the previous book, but this time Finlay and her nanny/business manager Vero don’t actually create trouble for themselves, but are helped into the thick of it by Finlay’s elderly neighbor, Mrs. Haggerty. Margaret Haggerty has featured in all the other books, mostly as the busybody across the street who keeps a pair of binoculars next to her front window and writes down all the transgressions and suspicious behavior of the people in her neighborhood. (She’s the one who revealed to Finlay that her husband was stepping out on her with his real estate agent, Theresa.) But this time it is Mrs. Haggerty who is under suspicion—a dead body has been found buried under her backyard rose garden, and she’s the prime suspect. The police can find no connection between her and the victim, so she is cleared, but since her house is an active crime scene, she insists on moving in with Finlay, Vero, and the kids until the yellow tape comes down and the heating and electricity are restored.
Finlay, who has just finished a book and has a little breathing room before needing to get on with her next, had been looking forward to some calmer down time, hopefully including some fraternization with hot cop Nick, while Vero is negotiating her reinvigorated relationship with childhood pal and current love interest Javi. Neither of them is overjoyed to welcome Mrs. Haggerty into their home, but when her grandson drops her off and disappears, they haven’t much choice.
Then things take a turn that pulls them into the investigation, when Finlay’s cheating ex-husband, Steven, becomes a suspect! There is a small part of Finlay that wouldn’t mind Steven getting his comeuppance…but he is the father of her children, and ultimately she doesn’t believe he’s a murderer. But how to prove his innocence?
After re-reading the other four books before jumping into the new one, I have to say that I appreciated the slightly less fraught tone of this story. There were still twists and turns and surprises, but it was neither as convoluted nor as frantic, with a little more time to develop characters, and that was a needed development. The cast list was pared down (the last book had several criminals, a half dozen extra cops, multiple murder victims, and enough incidental characters that I kept thinking as I read, “Who is this guy again?”) We didn’t just get to know more about Mrs. Haggerty, but we also deepened our acquaintance with Cam, the teenage computer hacker; we saw Finlay and Nick get to know one another better; and I also loved the vignettes of the children, Delia and Zach, as they navigated being bullied at school and conquering potty training, respectively. There were quite a few laugh-out-loud moments, some genuine suspense, and some big surprises, but it felt like we settled down into a better understanding of the principals, which makes me anticipate the next book with greater pleasure.
If you’re looking for a cross between mystery and French farce, with a dose of middle class angst and some fancy crooks, you will want to try this series for yourself.
Cream of the crop
I wasn’t going to post any further about my sojourn in the land of Regency Romance, but the last Heyer I reread was so delightful that I just have to share. I have previously mentioned a list of favorites here, and somehow this one didn’t make it onto that list, but I think it may be my new “best-of” pick. It’s The Foundling, written in 1948.
The name of the book is deceptive, because the foundling (orphan) in question is merely one small element in a much bigger story, and most of that story is about Adolphus Gillespie Vernon Ware (“Gilly”), the seventh Duke of Sale. Gilly is 24 years old, one year away from his majority, when he will take over control of his own estates from his guardian and uncle, Lord Lionel Ware. He is beset by irritations, but not the kind to which there seem to be any solution. He was a sickly child who has grown into a sturdy (if small and slight) adult, but his relatives and the raft of devoted family retainers who work for him will never let him forget that they have had good reason to mollycoddle him for his entire life, and he is constantly thwarted in the simplest of plans. He can’t do so much as take a walk to his club without his valet, his butler, or his agent insisting on ordering him a carriage for fear he will unduly exert himself or catch a chill. So when his young cousin, Matthew Ware, comes to him with a problem he is, himself, unable to solve, the Duke decides that he will take care of it without resorting to the advice of others. He will do so while masquerading as a plain “Mr. Dash,” not dependent on the benefits of birth and wealth; he manages to sneak off on his own, with no luggage, no carriage or horse, and no word to his servants or his uncle about either his intentions or his destination.
This incognito journey into the countryside to confront his cousin’s blackmailer leads to some interesting and signficant encounters that include a runaway schoolboy, a divinely beautiful but completely brainless orphan, and some villainous people and perilous situations. Meanwhile, back at his London abode, the hue and cry to discover his whereabouts is exacerbated by the belief by some that he may have run off due to an adverse reaction to becoming engaged to his lifelong friend, Lady Harriet. Others develop the theory that his cousin Gideon, who is his best friend but also his heir, may have “put him out of the way” in order to ascend to his title and massive fortune!
This is one of Heyer’s most complex and convoluted plots, with something happening every moment. Although the book is named after the fair Belinda (the foundling in question), her part in it is minor except as it motivates some of the adventures of “Mr. Rufford,” the name under which the duke is traveling. It is much less a romance (although there is a bit involved) than it is a coming of age of a man who, restricted from all autonomy since birth, finally rebels against all restraints, and his ensuing complicated adventures are the meat of the story.
I got through it in about 36 hours, because I couldn’t put it down. If you are inclined to try one of Heyer’s books for yourself, may I suggest this might be a good one to assay? (Yes, I am, at this point, speaking in the language of her characters. I think it’s time to move on to other literature.)
Escape from…
I have a number of books on my “TBR” list, but about a week and a half ago I decided to forego all of them for now and retreat into pure denial of everything that’s happening in the world and all the trials of my personal existence by rereading (some for the third time) a string of Georgette Heyer Regency romances.
I started out with three of my favorites—The Grand Sophy, April Lady, and The Convenient Marriage—and then took potluck on the public library website by reading whatever was immediately available, since the idea was a continued getaway rather than a long wait on a hold. And yes, most of her books still have holds on them, more than 50-75 years after their publication!
So I continued on after that with Charity Girl, The Unknown Ajax, and False Colours, which I just started. I have hopes, after this, of snagging Cotillion, Sprig Muslin, and The Foundling, by which time I’m hoping that I will have completely sated my appetite for drawing room drama, complicated toilettes, and witty banter, at least for a good while.
If you are, at this point, losing all respect for me as a reader and reviewer, let me tell you that you are “fair and far out” (under a misapprehension) should you believe that there is no redeeming value to these books. I defy anyone to find a contemporary romance writer who can rival their language, the sometimes labyrinthine plotting, the wonderfully droll characterizations, and the descriptive scene-setting, not to mention the perfectly evoked fashion in which everyone, male and female, is attired.
Perhaps I will follow up this binge by reading Everything I Needed to Know About Life I Learned by Reading Georgette Heyer, by Miss Cooke (2016). Although since this “book” is only 55 pages long, I suspect I could do a better job of writing a similarly titled volume!
Part of Your World #1
I reviewed Abby Jimenez’s book Just for the Summer in February, noting that it was the third volume of a loose trilogy without a through-story; the books simply share a few characters. This week I picked up the first in that series, Part of Your World, and was immersed in another meet-cute story about a destined couple with huge obstacles to conquer.
Alexis Montgomery is the latest in a formidable dynasty of doctors who have created their own stage on which to shine; they have all (except Alexis) been world-class surgeons whose total focus is continuing this family tradition at Royaume Northwestern Hospital, to which their award-winning research and procedures have brought both fame and financing for almost 125 years. Alexis’s twin brother, Derek, is the surgeon of her generation, leaving her free to choose to be an Emergency Room doctor instead, even though this is looked down upon by her autocratic, competitive parents. But Alexis’s saving grace (to them) is that for the past almost-decade she has dated and then lived with and become engaged to the hospital’s chief surgeon, Neil, who is the doctor they had hoped she would be.
Alexis has recently identified, however, how deeply unhappy she is with Neil; she has been subjected to a systematic program of denigration and gaslighting for most of their relationship, and has finally managed to break free, using the excuse of his affair with his department’s anesthesiologist to kick him out of the house they own together. Through therapy, she is getting a solid idea of how thoroughly warped she has been by his manipulative verbal abuse and is making strides towards being emotionally healthy; but everyone else in her life—Neil and her friends and parents included—expect the two will reconcile.
Daniel Grant’s family has lived in the tiny town of Wakan, Minnesota, for as long as the Montgomerys have ruled the medical community in Minneapolis. His many-greats grandfather built a beautiful home there that Daniel, the last of the family so far, has turned into a bed and breakfast, which he operates during the tourist season when people come for the river rafting, fishing, biking, and other outdoor pursuits. The rest of the year he makes a meager living with his woodworking, building both furniture and ornamental pieces in his workshop apartment over the garage. Daniel is also the mayor of Wakan, although this isn’t so much a position of esteem as it is a combination of social director and arbitrator of petty community issues. He knows everyone and everyone knows him, and they all look out for one another in the precarious atmosphere of a town that depends on its visitors for its living.
There could hardly be two more dissimilar lifestyles or outlooks than these, but when Alexis runs her car off the road on her way home from a funeral in Iowa and Daniel shows up to tow her out of the ditch, there’s an undeniable spark that leads one of them to think there could be something here, while the other resolves that there’s no way this can be anything but a short-term fling. Alexis, 37, has the weight of the Montgomery dynasty on her shoulders and a wealthy city lifestyle to support her long hours at the hospital; Daniel, 28, drives a pick-up truck with duct-taped seats, slaves for every penny, and doesn’t own a suit. It seems impossible that either could give up their world to be with the other; there is just too much baggage and too many extenuating circumstances. But there is that connection…
I loved about 85 percent of this book, and would say it is worth reading. The caveats that make up the other 15 percent are two. One of them is the ending; it was pretty obvious what would eventually happen, but the manner in which it did seemed way too easy after all the angst put into the situation by everyone involved, making it a little anticlimactic.
The other caveat is something I would never have expected would bother me, but it did. There is, in this story, an element of magical realism. I am generally a big fan of that literary device in fiction; I have devoured most of Alice Hoffman’s books, loved Chocolat by Joanne Harris, enjoyed some YA picks by Anna-Marie McLemore, and admired (but didn’t love) the works of Isabel Allende. I like realistic stories that include fantastical elements treated as if they are wholly normal, which is a basic definition of the genre, but in this book, this element was awkwardly handled. The first allusion to the magical nature of the town of Wakan was dropped early in the book by a minor character, but nothing occurred to back that up until about three-quarters of the way through, and then it was so abrupt and unlikely that it felt less like magic and more like one of those phenomena where it’s raining and fish suddenly fall from the sky, miles from any body of water. The whole nature of magical realism is to blend it in seamlessly with the everyday so that it is delightful but doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb, and Abby Jimenez has unfortunately not mastered this writing technique. Far from adding to the story, it pulled me right out of it.
But…I’d still give it four stars out of five (mostly for the totally hot carpenter/mayor).
The Empyrean “trilogy”
This series by Rebecca Yarros has been hyped a lot. I usually shy away from that, because I have discovered it’s more often than not the kiss of death to my enjoyment. But…dragons. I love dragons. I read all of Anne McCaffrey’s Pern books at least three times. I adore the dragons of Patricia Wrede, Bruce Coville, Diana Wynne Jones, and Angie Sage, and also those in Tolkien’s The Hobbit and Farmer Giles of Ham. I put up with Jane Yolen for the sake of dragons. Dragons gave added value in Ursula LeGuin’s Earthsea books and in the various trilogies by Robin Hobb. One of my favorite series is The Last Dragonslayer and sequels, by Jasper Fforde. I was intrigued by Rachel Hartman’s dragon/human shapeshifters in Seraphina and Shadow Scale. Robin McKinley’s Damar books use dragons as more of an excuse for a story than as a major plot element, but I still loved them. So. I was perhaps predestined to read these.
I will say that I was not initially disappointed by the dragons themselves. They are pretty cool, and the two we get to know more intimately through their association with main character Violet Sorrengail (Tairn and Andarna) have real personality. But there was much less thought put into all the rest of the dragons who appear in the books and, aside from their names being linked as a bonded pair with various characters, they were sadly both interchangeable and underutilized.
As for everything else, well, let’s break it down:
The writing was somewhat pedestrian—way too much exposition, language that was overly ornate but never coming to the point, and modern anachronisms (“for the win” and “shit’s about to get real” are the biggies that come to mind) that took me right out of the fantasy illusion. Sentence structure was awkward. (One reviewer actually counted and said “Yarros used 493 ellipses and 1,089 em-dashes in the 634 pages of Iron Flame.”) Both the meandering plots and the effusive, exclamatory style made me wonder how much power the editor was given over the content of these books (and why it likewise went underutilized).
The character building was good in the first half of the first book, and then disintegrated with each subsequent encounter. The protagonists, Violet and Xaden, had great potential, but knowledge of them stays on a shallow level because the author keeps describing them over and over without adding anything new, and the encounters between them are equally as repetitive. Both the heroism and the villainy become boring, because there’s little depth or explanation. And we might as well go on here to talk about the “romance” between the main characters, because this was an element that made them work even less for me. The first (explicit) physical encounter between them felt hot and daring, but by the time I got through the third book I was cringing and skipping the sex scenes because they were unoriginal replays both physically and verbally.
The secondary characters (Violet’s squad and siblings, the rebels closest to Xaden) had individual quirks that made them lovable or frustrating or inspiring or whatever, but I was disappointed that there was so little growth beyond the naming of that one element that characterized each of them. Much like the dragons, their characters and camaraderie could have been so much more of a feature, had the author cared more, but they were essentially one-dimensional.
The world-building was sloppy. It seemed like the only time it happened was when it was bolstering some plot point, so it became wearisome, for instance, to find out brand-new information well into the second or even third book simply because it was necessary to further the story. The fact that magic dwells only on the main continent, protected by wards, but there are whole archipelagos of islands without it, or that dragons are companions to the people in the warded lands but hated, feared, and targeted by the others would have been enlightening to know halfway through book one, not two-thirds of the way through book two (or later). And as for what magical abilities everybody has, it definitely felt like Yarros was making that up as she went along and needed a Hail Mary to get her out of the situation into which she had written herself. Everything we learned seemed less like a planned surprise and more like a decision in the moment as the author thought of some way to turn the story—oh, did I forget to mention this? Well, let me explain it here for you and then we can move on.
I will also say that since I am not a big fan of romance, maybe “romantasy” wasn’t as appealing to me as it might be to some; but I don’t think that’s really the problem. The problem is the endless, repetitive nature of the supposedly romantic encounters, which is a euphemism for the fact that every time the two protagonists saw each other, it was immediately sexual. Some non-fraught conversation would have been nice. Some peeks into childhood, some sharing of philosophy, a picnic, a book recommendation? Something.
Fourth Wing was good, despite some of these deficits, because we were discovering brand-new information—the challenges of getting into and surviving battle school, the intricacies of bonding with dragons, learning how to navigate the politics of both school and kingdom. It was interesting to learn that Violet had planned and thought she was destined to be a Scholar but was forced, despite her physical frailties (readers said the description of these sounded like she had Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome) and small stature, to choose to be a dragon-riding warrior because her mother was a big-deal commander and wanted all her children to choose that path. The details about Xaden and the other tattoo-marked riders being the children of rebels, basically conscripted into the dragon army to atone for the sins of their (deceased, executed) parents were intriguing. And the physical and mental obstacles Yarros sets up to test the potential riders to prove they could do the job were exciting.
But after the first shocks of a new environment, a new protocol, a forbidden love, the rest seems disappointingly like nothing but reiteration, filler, and false obstacles created to provide constant peaks and valleys in the relationships and the plot without ever taking us much of anywhere new. So (for instance) every time Xaden appears on the page, Violet has to lustfully re-react to his physique, his tattoos, his smoldering expression, his shadow-wielding. Every action or battle scene exists so that brave, impulsive but fragile Violet can be in peril or injured and Xaden can magically turn up to save her, scold her, and have his way with her (after the healers put her back together). And both the action and the storyline depend way too heavily on the life stories of just these two characters. It makes a dull read out of what could have had more significance and nuance.
My biggest beef, however, is that I was ignorant of what was apparently some fairly recent news. This was billed as a trilogy and I was, frankly, delighted to hear that. I wanted to read a series that had a beginning, a middle, and an end within a limited framework. So many fantasies just keep going until they exhaust either their author or their readers, but I thought I had discovered a tale that would be neatly told in three admittedly long but finite books. Nope. I kept reading book #3, at first thinking I should surely be farther along than 37 percent because what was left to say? and then thinking oh, there has to be at least 20 percent more to go because this doesn’t feel anywhere close to wrapping up, and then turning a page to discover, uh-oh, it’s over; WHAT?! I reread the ending of Onyx Storm three times and could make no sense out of it, only to discover (in a footnote on Goodreads on Yarros’s author page) that the rather cryptic close of that book was intentional because…dum dum DUM…there are two more books slated to be published. And after struggling through all the sturm und drang of book three without getting resolution of the central issue in a whopping 527 pages, I was, frankly, pissed off. I think I am done with Rebecca Yarros, despite the dragons. And that’s a big, big deal. Phooey.
The Book Adept 