JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Resemblance by Lauren Nossett

On a November morning at the University of Georgia, a fraternity brother steps into a busy crosswalk and is struck dead by an oncoming car. More than a dozen witnesses all agree on two things: the driver looked identical to the victim, and he was smiling.

Detective Marlitt Kaplan is first on the scene. A local and the daughter of a professor at the university, she knows all its shameful history. But in the course of investigating this hit-and-run, she will uncover more chilling secrets in the sprawling, interconnected system of fraternities and sororities that empower the university’s most elite students.

The lines between Marlitt’s police work and her own past begin to blur as she seeks to bring to justice an institution that took something precious from her many years ago. When threats against her escalate, Marlitt must question whether the corruption in her home town has run off campus and into the police force, and how far these brotherhoods will go to protect their own.

Lauren Nossett’s psychological thriller The Resemblance is a police procedural investigating the hit-and-run of a promising, apparently well-loved college student at the University of Georgia.

Detective Marlitt Kaplan happens to be at the University of Georgia when a male student is hit and killed, and so she feels driven to see the case to the end. What is initially a hit-and-run on campus soon turns into an investigation into hazing, alcohol abuse, sexual assault, and university cover-ups.

“We’re both silent for a while, and I wonder if Teddy – who grew up surrounded by sisters who adored him and a mom who insisted on nightly family dinners – could ever understand what it means to lose a friend like that.”

Nossett brings an intriguing premise to the novel, exploring why the driver of the car looked identical to the victim. Whilst this is not a dystopian or paranormal read, and therefore an identical driver is not possible, it does drive intrigue among readers and invites interest from fans of crime and thrillers.

Strengths lie in the pacing and plotting, and how easily Lauren can keep us guessing. The night where Marlitt discovers the basement in the fraternity house is a particularly pivotal moment in the story, and with the stakes being so high, we can’t help but become invested in the mystery.

“Oliver gives me a look I can’t read. He’s heard me sprout my opinions about fraternities and Greek life at large. If it were up to me, the university would do away with the whole thing. They’re cesspools of underage drinking and sexual assault.”

There were some missed elements to the story – some underdevelopments that could’ve enriched the novel. The protagonist’s relationship with her parents seemed a bit surface-level, and we don’t gain further insight in their relationship until the end of the book. Marlitt’s interactions with her police colleagues felt a bit lost in the story, to the point where I kept confusing her colleagues with some of the suspects. There is also a house fire that threatens Marlitt’s life and this thread in the story felt like an add-on. The person who did it wasn’t a major player in the story, and they seemed to disappear in the book just as quickly as they appeared. Was this meant to act as a red herring?

The protagonist’s hatred of college fraternities felt a bit too dominant across the storyline. Her personal vendetta against them, whilst admirable and from a place of good intentions, felt preachy and like didacticism.

Despite this, the twists and turns in the book, the surprises, were enough to keep me engaged throughout. I devoured the book in one day and I think a lot of other readers will find themselves enthralled as well. The fraternity life isn’t something we experience here in Australia so it’s always interesting to bring a lens to another element of society.

“We all have our own ways of approaching a case – I try to picture every detail I can about the victim’s life so I can build a world with him in it and look for inconsistencies. Teddy asks as many questions as possible – finding out information but also gauging reactions and hesitations, looking for the lies and omissions.”

Recommended for readers of crime and thriller. Readership skews 25+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Resemblance
Lauren Nossett
October 2022
Pan Macmillan Book Publishers

The Tilt by Chris Hammer

A man runs for his life in a forest. A woman plans sabotage. A body is unearthed.

Newly-minted homicide detective Nell Buchanan returns to her home town, annoyed at being assigned a decades-old murder – a ‘file and forget’.

But this is no ordinary cold case, as the discovery of more bodies triggers a chain of escalating events in the present day. As Nell starts to join the pieces together, she begins to question how well she truly knows those closest to her. Could her own family be implicated in the crimes?

The nearer Nell comes to uncovering the secrets of the past, the more dangerous the present becomes for her, as she battles shadowy assailants and sinister forces. Can she survive this harrowing investigation and what price will she have to pay for the truth?

Chris Hammer’s latest thriller The Tilt is a multi-layered crime story spanning almost 100 years and set in a secluded Australian town.

When a regulator is deliberately blown up, a body from decades earlier is unearthed at its base. Many think the case is too old to properly solve – whoever did it would be dead, alongside anyone else in the small town who was alive when the person was murdered. But with one body comes more, and before too long homicide detective – and former local – Nell Buchanan is on the trail of the killer.

“Nell is up with the sun, training gear on. Tulong is still asleep. She wonders if it ever wakes. The town sits flat and exposed on the long plain above the tilt, its trees punctation marks lacking a narrative. Beyond the houses to the west there is nothing.”

The Tilt follows multiple timelines and perspectives as quite a few different narratives need to intersect across the course of the novel. It does take a bit of time to comprehend how the characters and eras all relate to each other, and there are a lot of people to keep track of (particularly at the end as the conclusion nears), but Chris’ characterisation allows for easy differentiation between the main characters.

Chris moves through the chapters with seamless storytelling – he propels us straight into the action of each scene, and always manages to leave you wanting to read the next chapter. For such a large book I finished it rather quickly, which is a testament to how eager I was to find out the ending.

“I wonder what my dad would think of it. Someone blowing it up like that. Horrified, I imagine. Rolling back progress. But, then, he wouldn’t have imagined finding a body like that. A skeleton in the bottom of the regulator. All this time. I couldn’t believe it when I read about it. A skeleton. Who could have known that?”

Atmosphere, mood and setting is always a strong element of Chris Hammer’s books. The dry heat – the sticky humidity – is captured vividly and readers in Australia will be able to recognise that weather as they turn the pages. Alongside setting, Chris captures the different time periods with clarity. The golden era of the 70s was my favourite – the lovestruck Tessa and Tycho – but it was also intriguing to follow the storylines from earlier in the 20th century. The war and what it forced people to do to survive.

I do find it peculiar that most of Chris Hammer’s books seem to have a similar colouring – Scrublands, Trust and now The Tilt. All orange, making them look almost identical. A friend saw me reading this one and said they’d already read it, but then realised they’d actually already read Scrublands and thought the two books were the same.

“My dad didn’t want to go to war. Not because he was afraid, but because he was resentful. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I worked it out later. His own father had come back from the first war shattered, as if he’d been broken and then glued back together. That’s what my mum said.”

Australian crime at its finest, Chris Hammer knows how to weave together a compelling and pacey thriller. A great Father’s Day gift, as always, and a suitable gift for any level reader. Crime readers, in particular, will love this latest edition.

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Tilt
Chris Hammer
October 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

A Dowry of Blood by S.T. Gibson

A deliciously dark retelling of Dracula, A Dowry of Blood is a sensual story of obsession, desire and the lengths we will go to protect the ones we love.

Saved from the brink of death by a mysterious stranger, Constanta is transformed from a medieval peasant into a bride fit for an undying king. But when Dracula draws a cunning aristocrat and a starving artist into his web of passion and deceit, Constanta realizes that her beloved is capable of terrible things.

Finding comfort in the arms of her rival consorts, she begins to unravel their husband’s dark secrets. With the lives of everyone she loves on the line, Constanta will have to choose between her own freedom and her love for her husband. But bonds forged by blood can only be broken by death.

Exploring obsession, desire and queer relationships between vampires, S.T. Gibson’s A Dowry of Blood is written from the perspective of one of Dracula’s first wives and catalogues their relationship across the ensuing centuries as Dracula begins forming new marriages. Soon, a tale of love turns into a story of entrapment, and Constanta becomes desperate to leave.

The story chronicles a very large span of time over quite a short number of pages. And with a limited number of characters, the book does feel deliberately claustrophobic. We live in Constanta’s head for the entirety of the novel, and we watch as her obsession morphs into wariness. And then, finally, she gains motivation to change her circumstances.

“Those years are a dark smear across my memory; everything feels blurry and hollow. Plague drains not only victims but whole cities of life. It freezes trade, decays parishes, forbids lovemaking, turns childrearing into a dance with death. Most of all, it steals time.”

Most reviews about this book are glowing, and whilst there are elements of this book that are to be commended – the queer representation, the exploration of Dracula’s relationships in such a sensual manner, the beautiful European settings – the book fell flat for me. We move through the decades so quickly we don’t really have a lot of time to sit with any of the main characters, and I didn’t feel I grew to care for Constanta because other characters intersected in the plot far too quickly.

A story like this could move a little slower, allowing for deeper character development, and more exploration between Constanta and Dracula so that their dynamic is more solid before their relationship starts to change.

“We travelled by coach for days, drowsing in the sunlight hours and passing our time with quiet conversation or solitary activities by night. You became more withdrawn the closer we got to the Spanish border, referring to notes and letters you kept tucked into your datebook over and over again.”

Admittedly, the novel starts to feel repetitive as Dracula forms new romantic relationships. We have a short span of time with Dracula and Constanta, and then Magdalena comes along, and then, finally, Alexi. It felt like a cycle that just kept repeating but we weren’t learning anything new.

Another element I thought was under-explored – we didn’t have enough time to really explore the characters or their arcs because the book focused so much on sex. There was definitely room for us to experience these relationships on more than just a sexual level. Who were these characters outside of the bedroom? I’m not sure we ever really found out.

“Even surrounded by the flowering beauties of Spain, Magdalena’s loveliness was undeniable. She cut through the crowd like a shark darting through shallow waters, her teeth bared with laughter. She never missed a step, and never stayed with one partner for long.”

A sexual exploration of Dracula’s relationships, A Dowry of Blood is recommended for younger readers. Readership skews female, 18+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

A Dowry of Blood
S.T. Gibson
October 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng

Twelve-year-old Bird Gardner lives a quiet existence with his loving but broken father, a former linguist who now shelves books in Harvard’s library. He knows not to ask too many questions, stand out too much, stray too far. For a decade, their lives have been governed by laws written to preserve ‘American culture’ in the wake of years of economic instability and violence. To keep the peace and restore prosperity, the authorities are now allowed to relocate children of dissidents, especially those of Asian origin, and libraries have been forced to remove books seen as unpatriotic – including the work of Bird’s mother, Margaret, a Chinese American poet who left the family when he was nine years old.

Bird has grown up disavowing his mother and her poems; he doesn’t know her work or what happened to her, and he knows he shouldn’t wonder. But when he receives a mysterious letter containing only a cryptic drawing, he is drawn into a quest to find her. His journey will take him through the many folktales she poured into his head as a child, through the ranks of an underground network of librarians, into the lives of the children who have been taken, and finally to New York, where a new act of defiance may be the beginning of much-needed change.

Celeste Ng’s Our Missing Hearts is a powerful dystopian tale set in the near future where Asian Americans are scorned and feared, with ensuing and continued dire consequences.

Our protagonist is the twelve-year-old Bird, whose mother fled years earlier for seemingly no reason and Bird’s father offers little insight into the true reasons behind such a painful abandonment. When Bird receives a letter from his mother he begins to question the reasons behind her disappearance and as the story unfolds, we, the reader, learn more about the country’s vilification of Asian Americans. More specifically, a law implemented to try and preserve American culture.

“He has never heard these words before, has never even heard this language before, but it is clear from the look on his father’s face that his father has, that he not only recognises the language but understands it, understands what this man has said.”

Celeste’s latest novel explores family and responsibility, but it also delves into power, injustice and racism. An authoritative government has taken over the US and it has harsh ramifications for anyone in the country of Asian descent.

When we meet Bird, he’s living with his father – a man rather oppressed and reluctant to challenge the oppressive government. And when Bird suspects that he may be able to reconnect with his mother, a woman who may just be the complete opposite, he sees an opportunity too enticing to refuse.

Throughout the novel we come to witness an unbreakable bond between mother and child, and how much they’re both willing to sacrifice to be with each other. Amidst a society consumed by fear, we have two characters willing to risk it all.

“They could have fired me, he says. The library isn’t open to just anyone, you know. You have to be a researcher. They have to watch who they let in. The university gets a lot of leeway because of its reputation, but they’re not immune. If someone caused trouble and they traced it back to a book they got here…”

Celeste is known for her powerful novels that challenge treatment of others, and Our Missing Hearts is no different. She has captured such a large-scale dystopian setting through the lens of a very small cast of characters. The ending, in particular, will sit with you for some time.

The novel does take a little bit of time to gain momentum, and it really isn’t until Bird goes in search of his mother that the novel starts to increase in traction. Up until that moment, Bird doesn’t seem to possess much agency or drive – he is merely a player, reactive to what is happening around him.

“A game they played, he and his mother, when he was very small. Before school, before he had any other world but her. His favourite game, one he’d begged her to play. Their special game, played only when his father was at work, kept as a secret between just them. You be the monster, mama. I’ll hide, and you be the monster.”

Recommended for readers of literary fiction, and dystopian tales. Readership skews female, 30+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Our Missing Hearts
Celeste Ng
October 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell

Florence, the 1560s. Lucrezia, third daughter of Cosimo de’ Medici, is free to wander the palazzo at will, wondering at its treasures and observing its clandestine workings. But when her older sister dies on the eve of marriage to Alfonso d’Este, ruler of Ferrara, Modena and Reggio, Lucrezia is thrust unwittingly into the limelight: the duke is quick to request her hand in marriage, and her father to accept on her behalf.

Having barely left girlhood, Lucrezia must now make her way in a troubled court whose customs are opaque and where her arrival is not universally welcomed. Perhaps most mystifying of all is her husband himself, Alfonso. Is he the playful sophisticate her appears before their wedding, the aesthete happiest in the company of artists and musicians, or the ruthless politician before whom even his formidable sisters seem to tremble?

As Lucrezia sits in uncomfortable finery for the painting which is to preserve her image for centuries to come, one thing becomes worryingly clear. In the court’s eyes, she has one duty: to provide the heir who will shore up the future of the Ferrarese dynasty. Until then, for all of her rank and nobility, her future hangs entirely in the balance.

Set at the heart of the treacherous political world of the Italian Renaissance, Maggie O’Farrell’s The Marriage Portrait centres around a young woman’s tumultuous marriage to someone she is convinced will murder her.

O’Farrell has found her comfort zone with 16th century heroines. In The Marriage Portrait, she crafts a story around Lucrezia, who was the third child of Medici, ruler of Florence. Married off at age 13 to the Duke of Ferrara – Alfonso – she died not long after the wedding and was long thought to have been poisoned by her husband. In The Marriage Portrait, O’Farrell imagines a story around this historical saga, brining Lucrezia and Alfonso to life with a vivid tale.

“Lucrezia said nothing, just pulled a piece of parchment towards her. It was the only way to deal with Isabella’s fits of temper: ignore them, let them run their course. Securing the page with one hand, she held her pen poised. How to begin? Dearest Alfonso? Your excellency?”

Structurally, we first meet Lucrezia one year into her marriage. Failing to fall pregnant and give Alfonso an heir, she knows that he will murder her so that he can re-marry. The novel then moves back in time so we can understand how Lucrezia came to be in this situation.

The setup of the novel is beguiling and intriguing, and the latter third of the book builds in an enticing manner, but for most of the novel the pacing lacks and the tension never builds to where it needs to be. Perhaps the novel is too long. Perhaps too few characters cross our path and so we’re largely forced to read only about Lucrezia who grows a bit monotonous at certain points in the novel.

Truthfully, I wanted to love this novel but in reality, I had to force myself to continue.

“The plaits are arranged, criss-crossing her head, looping over hear ears and the jewels there, up the curve of her neck, and secured at the crown of her head. The veil is brought down around her while they affix the golden diadem, brought by Vitelli himself, from the iron-lined strongroom.”

One of the strengths of the novel does include O’Farrell’s description – rich and full, if at times a little too lavish and long. She revels in how she brings an author to a setting and an interaction; O’Farrell cannot be accused of stripping back her prose too much. At times though, her description boggles and slows down the pacing, traps its reader instead of keeping us propelled forward.

I wonder if there just wasn’t enough to the plotting to craft a faster paced story, and so Maggie had to fill the gaps with excessive prose that brought the novel to an unnecessary 440 pages.

“Except for little Lucrezia, tucked into a bed with both her sisters in a room under the eaves of the palazzo roof. Lucrezia of the solemn gaze and pale, wispy hair – incongruously so, for all her siblings had the sleek fox-dark colouring of their Spanish mamma.”

The Marriage Portrait is best suited to historical fiction readers, with a particular pursuit towards literary fiction. Readership skews 40+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Marriage Portrait
Maggie O’Farrell
September 2022
Hachette Book Publishers