JESS JUST READS

Diana O’Toole is perfectly on track. She will be married by thirty, done having kids by thirty-five, and move out to the New York City suburbs, all while climbing the professional ladder in the cutthroat art auction world. She’s not engaged just yet, but she knows her boyfriend Finn, a surgical resident, is about to propose – days before her thirtieth birthday. Right on time.

But now she is stranded, alone on what was planned to be a romantic idyll with Finn. Unfortunately, Finn is trapped thousands of miles away, and Diana is on one of the world’s most beautiful islands with no food, no luggage, and no place to stay, forced to test her personal limits to survive.

Struggling to find her feet, Diana gradually connects with a local family when a teenager with a secret opens up to her. As Diana helps her fight her demons she learns more about herself, and about the islands of Galapagos, where Darwin developed his theory of evolution. The dramatic and sometimes dangerous terrain reflects Diana’s own experiences, her new relationships and growing awareness that she too is evolving into someone quite different.

A near-death experience brings Diana abruptly back to familiar city surroundings, where she tries to pick up the threads of her old life. Has she changed or have the people around her? Diana is no longer prepared to be just a follower, at work or in her relationships. She breaks down years of estrangement with her mother, takes the initiative in her career, and looks at Finn through new eyes.

Jodi Picoult’s latest novel Wish You Were Here follows art-enthusiast Diana after she’s stranded on a secluded beach holiday. Back at home in NYC, her surgeon boyfriend is realising first-hand how rampant and dangerous COVID is. Spending time with the locals forces Diana to re-evaluate the kind of life she thought she wanted.

From reading the blurb, I wasn’t expecting a COVID book. Diana is stranded in the Galapagos because she travels there without her boyfriend and then the world shuts down. Whilst I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of reading a COVID story — we’ve all lived through it enough for a lifetime — this story does feel universal. We can all imagine what that’d be like, getting stuck halfway across the world. We know how easily it can happen, considering how easily borders can shut — how soon places can be locked down.

“The ocean is flirting with the shore, rushing over it and then retreating. A movement draws my attention as a ragged outcropping of rock suddenly animates — not lava rock, as it turns out, but a tangle of marine iguanas that slide into the waves, diving down.”

The strength of this book lies in its depiction of COVID-19, the pandemic, and life on the front line for healthcare workers. Diana’s boyfriend is a surgeon and initially unphased when COVID infiltrates the USA. But, over time, through emails he writes to Diana, we come to understand the full extent of what COVID is like inside those hospital walls. For most of us, this is the most insight we’ll ever get, and Jodi tackles the pandemic with compassion and sensitivity. I’m sure she’ll have many readers who lost a loved one to COVID-19, and perhaps reading this latest novel might help them understand that what happened was completely outside their control.

Other strengths include how easily Jodi captures characters and their conflicts. Over time, Diana starts to question her job, her career, and her relationship, and the turmoil is handled realistically. Additionally, Jodi leaves each chapter and section with an opportunity of observation for reflection. This encourages readers to keep turning the page, feeling invited into the storyline.

“The sound comes from behind me and when I whip around, the spray of water keeps me from seeing anything. I turn away and it happens again. But this time when I turn, I’m a foot away from the curious stare of a sea lion. His eyes are black and soulful, his whiskers bob.”

Admittedly the love story between Diana and Gabriel didn’t quite feel realistic — I couldn’t help but feel it was a little rushed, as the climax of their story neared. And the friendship between Diana and Beatriz, and how Diana prompts Gabriel to re-connect with his daughter over her sexuality, felt a little didactic in its dialogue and interactions. Some of Jodi’s previous books I haven’t really liked as much because they felt a bit preach-y, and Diana and Beatriz’s relationship felt like a similar vein.

As the novel is split into two sections, Diana’s story in the Galapagos had to be established, developed and wrapped within a much shorter time frame and it did feel like there was room for expansion.

“I think of Finn, telling me to leave New York City. I think of the paid-in-full room waiting for me within walking distance of these docks. If the island is locking down for two weeks, then they must be assuming that’s how long it will take for the virus to be controlled.”

Timely and atmospheric, Wish You Were Here is part life story and part romance. It’ll make you miss international travel, and life before COVID. Although please note this book is heavily embedded within the pandemic, and some people won’t be interested in reading about it. Readership skews female, 25+

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

Wish You Were Here
Jodi Picoult
November 2021
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

Adrift in a raft after a terrible shipwreck, ten strangers struggle to survive while they wait for rescue.

After three days, short on water, food and hope, they spot a man floating in the waves. They pull him on board – and the survivor claims he can save them.

But should they put their trust in him? Will any of them see home again? And why did the ship really sink?

Atmospheric and imaginative, Mitch Albom’s The Stranger in the Lifeboat is quite a compact novel – at just over 250 pages in a gorgeous hardback, ten shipwreck survivors try to last in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. Days turns to weeks, and soon their supplies are running low. When they pull in a stranger floating in the ocean, he claims to be God – the group are more worried about sharing their rations than they are about understanding where he’s come from.

The story moves back and forth between past and present. In the past, the ten survivors are on the water trying their best to last. One of them, a man named Benji, narrates this perspective and writes his experiences in a notebook. In the present, someone discovers an empty lifeboat along a secluded beach and inside is a notebook detailing what happened on that lifeboat. As the novel progresses, we come to understand what happened to the survivors and how that lifeboat ended up on the beach – empty.

“I grabbed the safety rope along its side. Whoever had been waving that flashlight was gone. I can only imagine he or she was thrown off by those waves. I tried to look for a body in the water, but another wave began curling into form, so I gripped the rope with both hands, and instantly I was tossed again.”

Mitch’s writing is poignant and the premise is enough to entice and engage until the final pages. The story and the characters’ survival is surprisingly detailed, and I found Benji’s narration inviting and compelling. You’re drawn into their secrets, and the overarching mystery around how the luxury ship sunk is a plot device designed to keep you turning pages until the very end.

Whilst not all survivors in the lifeboat are memorable, they’re not meant to be. Naturally, not everyone is going to survive until rescue, so Mitch keeps the focus centred on pivotal characters – Benji, Lambert, God, and a silent young girl called Alice.

The other pivotal storyline is that of Chief Inspector Jarty LeFleur, who is determined to find out what happened to the survivors when an empty lifeboat washes up on a deserted beach. He is still grieving the tragic death of his daughter, and the resulting estrangement from his devastated wife. Studying the lifeboat and the notebook he finds inside allows him to come to terms with what happened to his family.

“The proper protocol was to replace the bag immediately and call in higher authorities. Pass it up. Step out of the way. LeFleur knew this. But he also knew the moment he called his bosses, he would be excluded from the process.”

Admittedly, interwoven throughout the story are news reports that felt incredibly jarring. News reporters would reflect on some of the victims of the sunken ship by detailing their life to date, and I found it didn’t add anything to the overall story – to be honest, I skipped these parts entirely. Additionally, these sections interrupted the narrative flow and the pacing, taking us out of the lifeboat and somewhere else entirely – I was always interested in the survivors more than the media element of the book.

Another area of the book I couldn’t quite get behind was the dialogue and language from the character claiming to be the ‘Lord’. At times, what he said felt caricature and stereotypical, and it detracted from the otherwise-engaging scenes.

“We made vain attempts at catching fish – from trying to club them to trying to grab them over raft sides – but without a hook, there is not much chance.”

Recommended for readers of short fiction and short stories – literary readers may also find something to love in these pages. Readership skews 30+

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

The Stranger in the Lifeboat
Mitch Albom
November 2021
Hachette Book Publishers

Prussia, 1836
Hanne Nussbaum is a child of nature – she would rather run wild in the forest than conform to the limitations of womanhood. In her village of Kay, Hanne is friendless and considered an oddity . . . until she meets Thea.

Ocean, 1838
The Nussbaums are Old Lutherans, bound by God’s law and at odds with their King’s order for reform. Forced to flee religious persecution the families of Kay board a crowded, disease-riddled ship bound for the new colony of South Australia. In the face of brutal hardship, the beauty of whale song enters Hanne’s heart, along with the miracle of her love for Thea. Theirs is a bond that nothing can break.

South Australia, 1838
A new start in an old land. God, society and nature itself decree Hanne and Thea cannot be together. But within the impossible . . . is devotion.

Hannah Kent’s third novel Devotion centres around a Lutheran family in Prussia who flee religious persecution, boarding a vessel to South Australia. A queer love story set in the early-to-mid 1800s, our main character Hanne is considered an eccentric but odd girl – she doesn’t conform to what’s expected of her. And when she meets young neighbour Thea, the two form more than just friendship. Whilst there’s heartache in this novel, there’s also hope and optimism.

Separated into two distinct eras, the novel follows Hanne and Thea not only as they leave their hometown and venture afar with their villagers, but the novel also follow them as they come to understand what it means to love and be loved.

“The wind blew us to the forest. Hand in hand, skirts buffeted against our legs, hair stinging out into the air above, we let ourselves be carried to the only cathedral we had known together. As soon as we stepped through the shield of pines, into their soft shadow and quiet green, I felt the holy in the air.”

Devotion is structed around tragedy – before and after. Whilst we’re not quite prepared for the tragedy when it arrives, Hannah expertly weaves us through the journey as we lead up to it and also as we grasp the aftermath on the other side.

A significant portion of the novel takes place on the ship to Australia, a harrowing journey that takes six months and leaves many dead and unwell. The boat is not crafted for that many guests, and the food is scarce. When sickness takes hold in the ship, it ravages through the population.

The pacing is deliberately slow, taking the time to build tension and companionship between Hanne and Thea. Hannah’s description and writing style are her biggest strengths; she carves incredibly beautiful sentences that evoke imagery and emotion. She can capture connections between characters with the fewest of words.

“Night is unfurling herself now. The wind has picked up and clouds have blown in over the rising moon. It is growing dark. Through the trees I can make out lights winking across the valley floor. I imagine that I alone remain outside at this hour. Everyone must be at their dinners or prayers now.”

Admittedly, the final third of the novel – as the ship nears South Australia, and then as the village settles on their new land – was my least favourite section. Hannah dabbles in supernatural elements that felt quite removed from the initial tone of the novel. The voyeurism felt too removed from the original story, and the characters too disjointed for the love story to feel authentic anymore. Sometimes the perspective didn’t feel quite as concrete and I got confused whose story we were witnessing.

I suspect this part of the novel will be divisive for readers, particularly given how unexpected the shift felt. Regardless, at that point in the novel you’re so invested in the characters I suspect all readers will venture on.

“It has been a long time since I held a Bible. Scripture I once knew by heart has become adultered with my own words so that it speaks to a truth I know more keenly. But if I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of my family’s black book in my hands.”

Intricate, wholesome, lyrical and crafted elegantly, Devotion is recommended for literary readers. Readership skews female, 25+

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

Devotion
Hannah Kent
November 2021
Pan Macmillan Publishers

When my family emigrated it felt as if we’d been stood on our heads.

Lili’s family migrated to Australia from Asia when she was a teenager. Now, in the 1980s, she’s teaching in the south of France. She makes friends, observes the treatment handed out to North African immigrants and is creeped out by her downstairs neighbour. All the while, Lili is striving to be A Bold, Intelligent Woman like Simone de Beauvoir.

Lyle works for a sinister government department in near-future Australia. An Asian migrant, he fears repatriation and embraces ‘Australian values’. He’s also preoccupied by his ambitious wife, his wayward children and his strong-minded elderly mother. Islam has been banned in the country, the air is smoky from a Permanent Fire Zone, and one pandemic has already run its course.

Three scary monsters – racism, misogyny and ageism – roam through this novel. Its reversible format enacts the disorientation that migrants experience when changing countries changes the story of their lives. Which comes first, the future or the past?

Australian writer Michelle De Kretser returns with her seventh novel Scary Monsters, a tale of two stories – two characters – and an undercurrent of themes including racism, misogyny and ageism.

Scary Monsters is creative in its execution. With two 150-page novellas inside, you can start from either end. Both covers of the book are beautiful, and each side of the book offers something completely original. Whilst you may notice a couple of threads between the stories, they do function alone.

“Returning from Paris, as the train pulled into Montpellier, I thought back to the trip going the other way. Then the train had deposited me in a city of silvery light, mist and frozen white skies – it was like being delivered into a pearl. Montpellier was a sapphire, a cold, glitzy blue.”

Strengths lie in Michelle’s writing and observations – her ability to convey meaning with the fewest of words, and how evocatively she conveys imagery and setting. She really is quite architectural as a writer. And I loved that each story was only 150 words, with each one of them quite neat and contained.

“When it grew dark and the shutters were closed, lamps turned the rooms tender and mysterious. They were set in an enfilade, so people walked through them in a straight line – it made casual movement look ceremonial.”

Admittedly, I’m not the desired audience for this novel. I wanted to love it – I went into it wanting to devour it. But truthfully, I struggled a lot and I had to push myself to finish the book. Whilst Michelle’s writing is beautiful and she’s so skilled at crafting exquisite sentences, her characters felt so dry and unlikable to me – so bland – and the dialogue felt void of emotion. The pacing also felt really stagnant, with little momentum.

Browsing reviews of this title and it’s clear that Michelle has found a loyal following with this title, so I’m sure this is just my own personal experience. I’ll take this as one of those times where I’m just not the right fit for the book. I’m told this is quite a divergence from her other works, so perhaps I started with the wrong novel and should go back to an earlier release.

“Ivy was holding a white handkerchief embroidered with white flowers. As Bram talker to her, she touched it to the corner of her mouth. It hit me as nothing else had done: I was going to lose Ivy.”

Stark and distinct in its execution, Scary Monsters is recommended for devout literary readers. This is not the kind of book to gift a reluctant reader, or someone drawn to plot-driven stories. Readership skews female, 30+

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

Scary Monsters
Michelle De Kretser
October 2021
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers