So what *did* Jane Austen write in those letters Cassandra burned?

Gill Hornby's Miss Austen gives us the story of Jane Austen's life from her sister Cassandra's point of view. The premise is that Cassandra (Cassy here. Was Cassandra Austen ever referred to in this way? I can't remember ever coming across that before.) goes to stay with the family of her own dead fiancé in search of letters from Jane that might be too revealing. (It's a complicated premise, and the family tree is hard to keep track of, despite a guide at the beginning of the book.) We know that Cassandra was extremely protective of her sister's legacy and destroyed many of Jane's letters just before her own death in 1843. Hornby's novel imagines those letters and how Cassandra went about collecting them. Alternating between 1840, when Cassandra is scouting out letters to keep from the public, and earlier years when Jane was still alive, the novel imagines the conversations and letters that are (as far as we know) lost to history.

This is an intriguing premise, and who doesn't want to speculate about what Austen *really* wrote in candid moments? Unfortunately, though, Hornby has done what I would have thought impossible: She's made Jane Austen seem unappealing as a person. The Jane Austen of Hornby's novel comes across as moody, self-absorbed, and difficult to satisfy.

Likewise, I have seen other reviews that suggest that this novel is very sympathetic to spinsters. I'm not sure that I see that. Hornby presents both Cassandra and Jane Austen as a little perverse in their rejection of proposals. They wind up happy enough, but Hornby's version of the proposals sets them up as though they are consciously deciding to perpetuate their desperate financial situation.

Of course, it's likely true that Jane Austen had bad moods and may have been "in low spirits" for long periods of time, but I'm not convinced by Hornby's imagining of these moments and what might have been in the letters.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Sense and Sensibility updated: HIllary Manton Lodge's Jane of Austin

In the world of Austen adaptations, there are four main categories: spin-offs that tell the continuing adventures of one or more of the characters (Molly Greeley's The Clergyman's Wife), retellings from a different point of view (Jo Baker's brilliant and beautifully written Longbourn), modern retellings that update Austen's characters (Curtis Sittenfeld's Eligible), and re-writes that stick to the story, but place it in another setting to show how Austen's insights on class, gender, and prejudice continue to be relevant (Soniah Kamal's amazing Unmarriageable and Ibi Zoboi's fabulous Pride). 

This novel fits into the third category: a modernized retelling focused on updating the story for fans who know the story and can appreciate the cleverness of Austen's characters reimagined today or readers who are unlikely ever to pick up the original. Jane of Austin is a modern take on Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility featuring three sisters whose father embezzled money from his firm and disappears to avoid the repercussions. The sisters ultimately have to relocate to Austin, where they hope to open a tea shop and support themselves. It's a fun read, and the modern twists on Austen's tale are creative, including shifting the Colonel Brandon character to a disabled war veteran.

Lodge makes the interesting decision to tell the story through Jane (the Marianne character) and Callum (the Colonel Brandon character). Austen's original emphasizes Elinor's story and point of view, so this adds another perspective and makes Marianne's point of view easier to understand (and feel less over-emotional and melodramatic). Margaret (here Margot) also has a chance to come more into her own because she's depicted as an older character with more chances to show her personality.

I had no idea that this was published by a Christian imprint until I read a few other reviews. It doesn't come through strongly in the novel, so I'm wondering what makes it specifically Christian.

Overall, I found this a light and enjoyable read, and I plan to make some of the recipes that are included (not the tea, though. Way too fussy.).

I received an ARC of this novel through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

The latest installment in the Maisie Dobbs series and a new one from Tessa Arlen

I had given up on Jacqueline Winspear's Maisie Dobbs series for a while because I found all the discussion of psychological detecting tiresome (and I zone out every time Maurice Blanche is mentioned). I decided to try her again recently when I got an ARC from NetGalley of her latest novel, The American Agent. I enjoyed the atmospherics of this novel, especially the accounts of the Blitz, Maisie's work driving an ambulance, and the passages taken from actual reporting by Murrow and others.

One of my problems with Winspear's novels, however, is that I find it hard to keep track of the characters, and she never leaves any breadcrumbs in the narrative to help you remember who people are. The solution to this mystery was like pulling a rabbit out of a hat because it felt completely disconnected from the information that Maisie had gathered in her investigation. I know red herrings are important in mystery novels, but this solution left a lot of interesting threads hanging and came out of nowhere. My other complaint is that the love story was completely unbelievable because there was no build up. Instead, it just comes out of the blue with no romantic tension between the characters. As a reader, I didn't care if it went anywhere or not.

Those complaints aside, I still enjoyed this book, even though I felt like I was just along for the ride on the detecting part. 

Another novel that I read recently and thoroughly enjoyed was Tessa Arlen's Poppy Redfern and the Midnight Murders. I haven't read Arlen's Lady Montfort series, but I'm definitely going to seek it out when I need some escape reading. Poppy Redfern and the Midnight Murders is the very definition of a cozy mystery. Poppy Redfern is a plucky (sorry, there's no other word for her) young air raid warden during WWII who's responsible for making sure that her fellow villagers in Little Buffenden remember their blackout curtains. She patrols every night in the dark on her own until a young woman is strangled and her grandparents insist that she is accompanied by the aggravating Sid. Poppy decides to investigate what becomes a series of attacks and spends much of the novel ferreting information out of her fellow villagers - at least, when she's not hanging out with (or arguing with) an American airman who has been stationed in Little Buffenden. You won't be all that surprised by the ending, but it's an enjoyable read. I'm already looking forward to the next installment.

I received ARCs of both these novels from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Are there other historical mystery series I should try?

Kiley Reid's Such a Fun Age

I haven't stayed up late to finish a book in a long time, but I couldn't stop reading Kiley Reid's amazing novel Such a Fun Age (coming out Dec. 31, 2019). This is such a smart book, intertwining a sharp commentary on race, class, identity, motherhood, and privilege in an engrossing narrative. 

The main character, Emira, may feel adrift  and unsure about when she'll ever be like her friends who have "adult jobs," but she is also a sharp-eyed observer who stands up for herself and doesn't feel compelled to play nice. When she is accused of kidnapping her white employer's child by a woman in a high-end grocery store, she stays calm, stands up for herself, and doesn't let anyone off the hook for their racism. She isn't interested in the outrage shared by her employer and the white man who videotaped the incident; she just wants to live her life and do her job without being harassed - and she definitely isn't interested in being a viral sensation.

Circling around Emira's story are two white characters - the man who recorded her in the grocery store and the mother of the child she sits - each invested in proving how racist they aren't. They are each deeply problematic in different ways that propel the narrative. Emira rightly sees their attempts to "save" her as stemming more from wanting to feel good about themselves than really caring about her. 

This is both a deeply troubling and satisfying read. I, for one, stayed up most of the night to see what Emira was going to do next.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Women looking for a role for themselves in World War I: Amy Stewart's Kopp Sisters on the March

I only discovered Amy Stewart's series of novels about Constance Kopp and her sisters a few months ago, but I read the entire series right away. Constance and her sisters, as well as many other characters in this (so far) 5-book series, are drawn from true figures in U.S. history, as well as the events that happened to them. Stewart doesn't offer us a dry accounting of these historical figures, however, but rather fleshes out the storyline in ways that I find completely compelling. From tracking down the criminal who is threatening her family to taking up a position as sheriff's deputy to (in the latest novel) joining one of the homegrown war camps for women, Constance Kopp is a tough and thoroughly likeable character.

At the center of each of Stewart's novel is a feminist recovery of U.S. history in the early twentieth century. When Constance becomes the matron of the county jail, for example, she realizes how morality laws are unequally targeting young women who resist their parents' control. Realizing that these laws have the ability to ruin women's lives by locking them away in reform schools for many years or sending them to prison, Constance works to make her own contribution to reforming the system. As a result, all of her actions infuriate the local prosecutor who sees no role for women in law enforcement and wants to run for political office as someone who reined in the county's wayward young women. Stewart uses the Kopp sisters' story as a means to shed light on gendered histories. Along the way, she tells a really good story.

In this latest installment, Kopp Sisters on the March, Constance, Norma, and Fleurette want to contribute to the war effort, so they go off to a training camp for women. Right from the beginning, Constance questions its seriousness and how that lack of seriousness reflects the government's unwillingness to take women's potential contributions seriously. Constance, as always, gets involved and tries to effect as much change as she can. Alongside her, Norma is determined to make the army realize the usefulness of a carrier pigeon brigade and Fleurette is determined to put on a show for the women that mirrors the shows being put on for male soldiers. Stewart makes these interwoven stories both serious and funny.

Parallel to the Kopp sisters' narrative is the tale of Beulah Binson, a character based on the real life woman. This sub-plot comes together nicely at the end, but I became impatient with the drawn out unfolding of her story. It was clear that there was some huge scandal related to her, but we don't find out all the details until about 4/5 of the way through the story. As I read, I found myself much more interested in what was happening at the camp than in Beulah's flashbacks.

On the whole, though, I'd definitely recommend this latest installment, and I'm already looking forward to the next one.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley and from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.

In case you've ever wondered how things turned out for Charlotte Lucas and Mr. Collins: Molly Greeley's The Clergyman's Wife

Some recent Austen adaptations have reimagined Pride and Prejudice from different racial, ethnic, or national perspectives (e.g., Ibi Zoboi's Pride, Corrie Garrett's Pride and Prejudice and Passports, and Soniah Kamal's Unmarriageable). These adaptations illustrate how questions of class, economics, and female independence continue to resonate beyond nineteenth-century drawing rooms.

Molly Greeley's new novel, The Clergyman's Wife (coming out Dec. 3, 2019), functions in a different way. This novel extends the storyline of Pride and Prejudice to three years after the original novel's conclusion. Told from Charlotte Collins's point of view, this story not only imagines what happens to the couple, but also how Charlotte feels about her marriage to the ridiculous Mr. Collins.

In that way, it's a fantasy novel. The Charlotte Lucas of Austen's novel reveals so little about her thoughts beyond her practical view of marriage and the ways that she has accommodated her married life to carve out some space and time for herself outside of her husband's sycophantic devotion to Lady Catherine. The Charlotte Collins of Greeley's novel is no less practical or accommodating, but her frustration with her husband gets full expression, as well as her frustration that she had so few other options.

To some extent, this novel mirrors Patricia Rozema's film adaptation of Mansfield Park (1999). Rozema re-writes Fanny Price to be a much more spirited character, melding her with a fantasy vision of an outspoken Jane Austen and a Fanny who is less sanctimonious and more rebellious. Greeley's Charlotte Collins has to work hard not to roll her eyes at her husband's behavior or Lady Catherine's rudeness. She also has desires for connection and community that can't be fully suppressed.

I won't give away what happens, except to say that I was wrapped up in Charlotte's story and in much suspense about where it was heading.

I received an ARC of this novel from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.

Lara Prescott's Portrait of Dr. Zhivago in The Secrets We Kept

I didn't know anything at all about the intrigue surrounding the publication of Boris Pasternak's Dr. Zhivago before reading Lara Prescott's engrossing new novel, The Secrets We Kept (coming out September 3, 2019). Prescott's novel beautifully weaves together multiple storylines connected to Dr. Zhivago - from the targeting of Pasternak and those he loved for daring to write a story seen as critical of the Soviet Union to the typists at the C.I.A. who are recruited to help distribute the novel as a propaganda tool. Prescott fleshes out the characters in a broad network in multiple involved in the publication, distribution, and banning of the novel, including the Union of Soviet Writers who condemned the novel and the Italian publisher who made sure that it was published, even after the novelist changed his mind.

While the novel paints a clear picture of the repression and brutality of the Soviet regime, it doesn't let the U.S. off the hook. The story is primarily told through the point of view of women, and we are given an uncomfortable picture of how the Agency men saw female operatives as tools to be discarded. Prescott also highlights how the "Lavender Scare" in the U.S. ruined the lives of LGBTQ people who lost their livelihood and reputations.

Overall, Prescott has succeeded in bringing this story to life by creating a compelling cast of characters who are affected by the publication of Dr. Zhivago in unexpected ways. Most tragically, we have a close look at Pasternak's lover and her family who suffer both emotionally by being targeted by the government and physically by being sent to the gulag. One can't help but leave this novel feeling like it was unfortunate for Pasternak that he was persecuted for writing his novel, but it was others who suffered most.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

Colson Whitehead's The Nickel Boys

Colson Whitehead's new novel, The Nickel Boys, creates a fictional Nickel Academy based on an actual reform school in Florida where generations of boys, particularly African Americans, were brutalized. Through this novel, Whitehead rejects abstraction and insists on the individuality of those trapped in this system. In both The Nickel Boys and his previous novel, The Underground Railroad, Whitehead lays bare the racialized violence that threads through U.S. history.

Whitehead is such a good storyteller that you are drawn into the narrative right away. He starts in the present with a University of South Florida student on an archeology project discovering Nickel Academy's secret graveyard. This unmarked graveyard is where Nickel buried students - mostly black students - who'd died under their brutal treatment, usually through extreme punishments. Whitehead brings this piece of history to life through fiction and makes you care about the story immediately. When he shifts to the story of Elwood Curtis, a young man who's grown up listening to Martin Luther King and living with his grandmother in Tallahassee, the scene has been set for the horrors of Nickel to be revealed.

But then Whitehead takes his time letting it unfold, starting with Elwood's youth and fully developing him as a character. By the time Elwood is sent to Nickel, the groundwork has been laid to reveal the extent of a racially-based miscarriage of justice that has cut short his education and promise. The reader is presented both with the spiteful brutality of the institution, as well as the brutality that comes of robbing black young men of a future. There are both white and black inmates at Nickel, but those on the black "campus" come in for the most vicious mistreatment.

Alongside the tale of Elwood's horrific experience, and a post-Nickel storyline, Whitehead interweaves stories of other students at Nickel. I won't give away the details, but Whitehead gives a wide angle view of the institution's racism, corruption, and viciousness. Because the stories are wide-ranging, the novel can feel a little disconnected at points, but it all comes together in the end.

This is an incredible book. It tells a crucial history that has been long buried and tells it in a compelling way. I completely recommend it.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Elizabeth Berg's The Confession Club - a comfortable novel for this fall

The Confession Club is a light and comfortable novel and a quick read. It's the perfect novel if you're looking for something feel-good and not too challenging emotionally. The story is partly about a group of women who meet periodically to take turns making confessions. The confession club, at times, fades into the background of the other main storylines, and the characters are not drawn with particular depth. A few of the confession club members are fleshed out, but even at the end I had a hard time distinguishing them. The confessions are sometimes moving, although the narrative seems to move past them pretty quickly. There are also a lot of platitudes about loving yourself, making yourself happy, and being a good person.

The meat of the narrative comes in two storylines: Maddy, who is estranged from her husband, and Iris, who teaches baking classes and falls in love with a homeless man who has taken refuge in a farmhouse in town. Both of these storylines are sweet and engrossing, and the story of the homeless vet's struggles with PTSD is moving. 

Overall, this is an enjoyable book, but not one that's likely to keep me up thinking about it.

I received an ARC of this novel from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.

Mahesh Rao's novel Polite Society: Austen's Emma in India

I’m usually a total sucker for Austen re-writes, and I was excited to see this modern retelling of Emma in India. It’s usually Pride and Prejudice that’s being retold, so I was looking forward to a version of Emma.

Unfortunately, this novel was a real disappointment. It has none of the depth, social critique, humor, or charm of Austen’s original. The Emma character, Ania, has all of her flaws, but no redeeming qualities. She’s petty and even cruel in one scene. She doesn’t redeem herself by the end, and I really didn’t care about her relationship with Dev, the Knightley character. 

In fact, the most interesting character is Dimple (Rao's version of Harriet Smith), who is sweet and much more thoughtful and observant than Ania. 

I know that Emma is often the most disliked of Austen’s protagonists, but that doesn’t mean that Ania has to be this spoiled and thoughtless.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Ayesha at Last by Uzma Jalaluddin: A Muslim Pride and Prejudice

I picked this book up because I'm a sucker for Austen adaptations, and I wasn't disappointed. It's a fun and thoughtful read. As I've pointed out elsewhere, there have been many recent adaptations that shift Pride and Prejudice to the perspective of diverse ethnic, class, or gender identities. When done well, adapting Austen's stories in these ways shows something new about Austen's stories and the communities they inhabit.

Ayesha at Last offers a very loose adaptation of P&P and is playing just as much with the romantic/screwball comedy genre reaching back both to Shakespeare and early twentieth century films. In fact, Shakespeare is threaded throughout the novel, primarily through Ayesha's Nana who loves quoting him, and elsewhere, such as when Ayesha quotes the "tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace" speech from Macbeth at a Muslim youth conference. It's surprising that none of the blurb materials that I've seen mention the Shakespeare angle because that's just as strong, and the novel ends with an index of the sources for all of the quotes.

The novel begins with a romantic pair - Ayesha and Khalid - who take an instant dislike to one another. They are both committed to their Muslim faith, but in very different ways. Ayesha sees Khalid as a "fundy," or judgmental fundamentalist, and Khalid thinks that Ayesha is not pious enough because he first meets her in a bar (or, rather, lounge). They are forced to work together organizing a conference for their financially troubled mosque, and an abundance of subplots ensue, some following the P&P formula and some not. I don't think it's a spoiler to say that you can probably imagine how it ends. Their romance emerges through conversations where they come to understand one another and take themselves a little less seriously.

I've always thought that the Olivier film version of P&P highlighted the similarities between Austen's story and screwball comedies from the 1930s, like His Girl Friday, Bringing up Baby, and The Lady Eve. There's a close connection between the formula of two characters initially hating each other but ultimately falling in love (which is part of what makes P&P so enduring) and a comedic version that involves smart alec-y conversations and eventual courtship. Ayesha at Last fits comfortably in the tradition of Austen, as well as of Shakespeare and Howard Hawkes.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Trying to figure out what I'm not getting about Sally Rooney’s *Normal People*

I have heard so much buzz about Sally Rooney’s novel Normal People that I am surprised that I didn't like it more. Maybe I’m so old that I can’t get too excited about the blooming of young love, especially when it’s this tortured? This isn't really a traditional love story, though, so that's not it....

That's not to say that I didn't find anything to like in this novel. It’s strength is in the psychological unpacking of the two protagonists, Marianne and Connell. Both of them are complex, and Rooney uses their relationship as a way to explore them as characters. These are fully fleshed out characters, and as a reader you understand them, even if their choices make you cringe.

However, while Rooney fully fleshes her main characters through their relationship, that tortured relationship was crazy-making for me as a reader. Why don't they just say what they mean? Why is everything so complicated between them? Is this novel about anything other than whether or not they get together? Although the plot moves through different phases of their life, the central question is always about their relationship with each other. We hear that they have other interests and skills, but they don't actually show up on the page very much.

Also, the chronology jumps ahead in seemingly random intervals. Each chapter marks a later period in time, and there will have been some major change in their circumstances or relationship status. I couldn't figure out if there was a pattern to these time jumps, but it felt a little bit like when someone else is fast forwarding a video and you have no control over when they hit pause or when they speed ahead. For this reason, the story never gains momentum because you don't get to linger on particular moments long enough or even understand how the shift happens to the next one.

I'm happy to be convinced otherwise, so feel free to tell me how wrong I am in the comments below. For the moment, I'm just not sold on this novel.

I received an ARC of this novel through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Why you should read yet another Pride and Prejudice adaptation (Soniah Kamal's Unmarriageable)le

I have read a LOT of Pride and Prejudice adaptations in the last few years. Some of them work really well - Ibi Zoboi's Pride and Jo Baker's Longbourn are particular standouts, and Bridget Jones's Diary has become something of a comfort read for me. Soniah Kamal's Unmarriageable (subtitled Pride and Prejudice in Pakistan), however, is my new favorite, not only because it works, but also because it is so smart and enjoyable.

Similar to the film Bride and Prejudice, Kamal's version uses the backdrop of a marriage-obsessed (including arranged marriage-obsessed) society to show how the class and gender issues that Austen wove into her plots still operate in some parts of the world. The Bennet sisters' dilemma is not an antique artifact for Alysba Binat and her sisters, but a constant pressure.

But Unmarriageable doesn't work just because the social strictures of early nineteenth-century England translate well to Pakistan in 2000. Kamal has re-imagined the plot and the characters in ways that are unique to her narrative and add a richness to the framework of Austen's story. Take, for example, Sherry Looclus, the Charlotte Lucas character, who has formed an alliance with Alys over cigarettes and frank conversations in the graveyard near the Binat house. The friendship between the two women has developed through sharing frustrations over work (they’re both literature teachers at a local girls’ school), their parents' determination to get them married, irritation that the only respectable way to have sex in Pakistani society is to get married, and the tedium (particularly for Sherry) of meetings with increasingly unappealing potential mates. Kamal has fully re-imagined Sherry’s need to marry without it seeming mercenary, but rather as a believable and deeply considered imperative. Plus, Kamal’s rendering of the horrible meet and greet with an old man who makes Sherry give him a neck massage before rejecting her makes clear how limited her options are - and where Kaleen would fall on the desirability spectrum. As a reader, I was genuinely sad when Alys and Sherry’s friendship is tested by Sherry's marriage (a marriage that is as compromised and complicated as in Austen's original).

Alongside the re-workings of Austen’s story, this novel is a lot of fun. I found myself googling many of the clothes that Kamal mentions so that I could visualize the splendor of the gatherings. Alys is also a smart and funny character who cares about her family, but also has her own ideas about how she wants to live her life and what her connection is to Pakistani culture.

As for the Alys/Darsee romance...after the expected display of pride and dislike on both sides, Alys’s relationship with Darsee is sparked by a mutual love of books and a sense of feeling between cultures. When they inevitably get together at the end, it feels right both for Austen’s world and for the one Kamal has created. Overall, this is a satisfying read.
.

Chances Are...: The latest from Richard Russo

It's probably not fair to judge Richard Russo's new novel Chances are... (available July 30) against my own high expectations for Russo's work. Russo's novels are a masterclass in constructing layered narratives that deepen our understanding of character and situation. That layered narrative structure also results in beautifully crafted stories that loop back together by the end in ways that you can't imagine until you get there. Empire Falls is the best example, but Nobody's Fool, Straight Man, Everybody's Fool, and That Old Cape Magic all succeed as narratives that draw you in through humor, fully drawn characters, and masterfully constructed narratives.

Because of that, I was surprised that Chances Are... took an unusually long time for me to warm up to. We learn a lot about the characters in the first fifty pages or so, but I didn't really care about them or the situation they found themselves in. Jacy, a woman who was the love interest of all three of the main characters and has disappeared, definitely didn't seem compelling enough for the narrative to focus on. If I didn't have faith that Russo would pull it off, I might not have kept reading.

But he did. Perhaps not as brilliantly as in some of his other novels, but, about half-way in, the mystery of Jacy's disappearance gains momentum, primarily through a retired cop who deepens the suspense around what happened to her. By the end, I was absorbed in the story - if not in Jacy as a character. It feels as though Russo piles on extra helpings of tragedy in her life as a short cut to character development, which isn't entirely satisfying. On the other hand, the resolution of the narrative is satisfying.

On the whole, I don't think this is one of his best novels, but I did find myself swept up in the last half of the story.

If you've read it, let me know what you thought in the comments.

I received an ARC of this novel through NetGalley and Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.  

A quick take on Jennifer Ryan's The Spies of Shilling Lane

I loved The Chilbury Ladies Choir, so I was looking forward to reading Ryan's new novel, The Spies of Shilling Lane (released June 4, 2019). Unfortunately, The Spies of Shilling Lane is a real disappointment. Whereas her first novel had a lot of charm, this one just feels forced and unlikely. It's definitely readable, but the plot is completely improbable and feels as though it is a Disneyland version of some old gangster movie (or maybe even Bugsy Malone). The characters come across as caricatures, and I pictured them in my head as cartoons rather than real people. There was also a thread of sentimentalism woven throughout that felt misplaced. Is it a spy novel or a feel good novel about loving your family and community? The two don't work well together. Overall, this new effort was not nearly as enjoyable as Ryan's last novel.

I received an ARC of this novel through NetGalley, but my views are my own.

Has anyone else read this yet? What did you think?

How did she get there? or The Confessions of Frannie Langton

The Confessions of Frannie Langton by Sara Collins

This is an amazing and powerful novel, and I want more people to read it so that I can talk about it with them. The Confessions of Frannie Langton offers the compelling story of a former slave and servant who is brought from Jamaica to England in the 1820s and given away as a gift once she arrives. In her new household, her life becomes intertwined with that of her new mistress. She also learns in excruciating detail how her masters in both Jamaica and London have long used her as a pawn. This novel reminded me of Sarah Waters's Fingersmith in its reimagining of unspoken histories, as well as in its Gothic elements. The narrative begins where it ends, with Frannie writing her barrister from Newgate Prison, where she is awaiting trial for the murder of her English master and mistress.

Colm Toibin has said that he hates the literary device of flashbacks, which he sees as overused in contemporary fiction. Toibin dismisses flashbacks as a cheap way to create layered literary characters, but I think a more interesting and related technique is the narrative device of beginning at the end of the book and using the rest of the narrative to explain how we got there. I'm thinking of Celeste's Ng's Everything I Never Told You, Laila Lalami's The Moor's Account, Ruth Ware's The Turn of the Key, and many others. When well-crafted, as in the previous examples, this strategy can create layered narratives with lots of momentum because, as a reader, you want to know what happened.

Collins uses this narrative technique (framing? Is there a term for what I'm describing or should I make one up?) to great effect, creating tension and suspense. Frannie's "confessions" are more than the backstory of a violent night, and Frannie's story amply justifies the rage that she feels toward those who've used her for their own ends and made her endure and be complicit in horrors.  I don't want to give away any key details, but Frannie's anger is well earned and reinforced by Collins's narrative.

Overall, this is an intense and absorbing novel that offers a devastating meditation on the historical nature of freedom for people of color both in Jamaica and in England. I thoroughly recommend it.

If you've read The Confessions of Frannie Langton, let me know what you thought in the comments or tweet me @sigcordell.

I was provided an ARC of this novel by Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.

Starting Fresh

It's been a looong time since I last updated this blog, but it's the summer, it's time to start training for fall marathons, and (mostly) I let my enthusiasm run away with me in requesting advance copies of forthcoming novels through NetGalley and Edelweiss. So, it seemed like a good time to refresh this blog. Many of the books I'll be commenting on this summer are ARCs, but I promise you'll get my honest opinions of them. I'll also likely be talking about other parts of my life (baking, libraries, research, and running), but I will tag all my posts so you can skip the parts you don't care about.

Just to give you an idea of what I'll be reading my way through this summer, here's the list of what I've got loaded on my Kindle:

Sally Rooney's Normal People (April 2019)
I keep hearing rave reviews about this title, so I thought I'd give it a try.

Anne Beattie's A Wonderful Stroke of Luck (April 2019)

Richard Russo's Chances Are (July 2019)
I was slow to try Russo, but I am completely sold. His stories about fading factory towns are intricately crafted, with layers to the narrative and characterization.

Jeannette Winterson's Frankisstein (October 2019)

Mahesh Rao's Polite Society (August 2019)
This is a modern retelling of Austen's Emma in Delhi. You'll discover that I have a particular weakness for Austen retellings - or, really, retellings in general.

Téa Obreht's Inland (August 2019)

Jennifer Ryan's The Spies of Shilling Lane (June 2019)
The latest from the author who wrote The Chilbury Ladies' Choir, which I loved.

Ta-Nehisi Coates's The Water Dancer (September 2019)
A first novel by Coates, who is a genius of long-form non-fiction.

Colson Whitehead's The Nickel Boys (July 2019)

Tash Aw's We, the Survivors (September 2019)
If you haven't read Five Star Billionaire, there's time before this one comes out. I recommend it.

Uzma Jalaluddin's Ayesha At Last (June 2019)
A modern-day Muslim Pride and Prejudice. Did I mention that I'm a sucker for Austen retellings?

Chandler Baker's Whisper Network (July 2019)

Sara Collins's The Confessions of Frannie Langton (May 2019)

Jo Baker's The Body Lies (June 2019)

Jacqueline Woodson's Red at the Bone (September 2019)

Edwidge Danticat's Everything Inside (August 2019)

Emma Donoghue's Akin (September 2019)
I loved The Wonder, so I'm looking forward to this one.



Ok, that's a long list. But you can see why I couldn't resist any of these, right? This is my summer reading plan, in addition to a few other projects like finishing a book manuscript, revising my syllabus, writing a few articles, and doing the regular collections and liaison work that are key to the life of the modern library subject specialist. I'm sure this will be no problem!

A few of these titles have already been published, so I'd better get started...