JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

My Daughter’s Wedding by Gretel Killeen

Nora Fawn’s daughter, Hope, disappeared four years ago. Nora has never known why. Refusing to answer her mother’s calls, emails or texts, Hope maintained contact only with her big sister, Joy. Having once considered her mothering to be the greatest achievement of her life, Nora’s spent these Hope-less years searching, aching, mother-guilting, working for a famous yet talentless artist and avoiding her own emotionally repressed mother, Daphne.

But … last night Hope rang out of the blue to say, ‘I’m coming home, I’m getting married, the wedding is in three weeks and it’s your job to organise it.’ Desperate to prove her worth as a mother and regain her daughter’s love, Nora commits to the task – assisted by her own increasingly dementia’d mother and her two best friends, Soula (an amateur bikini-line waxer) and Thilma (whom they found in a cab in the 1980s).

Contemporary women’s fiction about three generations of mother-daughter love, Gretel Killeen’s My Daughter’s Wedding is a fast-paced exploration into the complex family dynamics between women, and how broken relationships can always be mended.

I liked the structure of the novel, and the premise. My Daughter’s Wedding is formatted as a diary entry, which feels instantly accessible. You’re placed right in the centre of the action, and you’re involved in the journey the entire way. The concept of the estranged daughter allows Nora to reflect on her past mistakes, and we also witness a lot of similarities between Nora and her own mother.

The book is filled with a large cast of eccentric characters, all with interesting backstories and tiny quirks that make them memorable. This definitely feels similar to Gretel’s other fictional works — all quite out-of-this-world, wacky tales.

“Yes, it was after all that, when I was looking for Hope’s birth certificate in preparation for registering her wedding, that I found you, Dear Diary. And it was then that I decided to quietly start writing in you over the forthcoming wedding week as evidence of how perfectly I’ve behaved should anything untoward come to pass and anyone/everyone try to blame me.”

Unfortunately, this book didn’t live up to its potential. Yes, it’s a unique, funky story. No doubt about it. But I felt that the characterisation and the growth that’s required in a novel — even a comedic one — just wasn’t present in this. I think Gretel was going for a mad cap adventure, but the main character is in her 50s and the readership are adults and I’m just not sure that it works. No spoilers, but the entire storyline/premise about Aspen was too over-the-top to be enjoyable.

“I didn’t know what to say. Mum has always been great at winning arguments with me but appalling at confronting what we’re actually arguing about. I can’t blame her, I’m guilty of this too. I obfuscate and pussyfoot and hedge around the subject, for fear in fact of exactly what happened just now, an argument that leaves Mum feeling victorious and me feeling violated.”

Admittedly, I just didn’t find this book as humorous as the blurb suggested. There were a few chuckles, but mainly, I found the voice to be quite impenetrable. Nora is supposed to be in her 50s but she reads like an adolescent — stream of consciousness, scatty, unfocused, and just a little too silly to be believable as a character.

Additionally, the plot gets more absurd as the book goes on. There are commendable moments of depth, and character development, but the absurdity of the storyline seemingly dilutes these profound, notable aspects in the book. And the pacing is so quick, there isn’t really enough time to get to the know the characters, and so you don’t really find yourself warming to them.

“It’s been said that a mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child. I know this to be true. When a woman becomes a mother she loses all emotional independence. And this can never be changed. The umbilical cord is never cut. The scissors just make it invisible.”

A very light read. Recommended as a beach read, or an airport purchase.

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

My Daughter’s Wedding
Gretel Killeen
February 2021
Hachette Book Publishers

Sex and Vanity by Kevin Kwan

The iconic author of the bestselling phenomenon Crazy Rich Asians returns with the glittering tale of a young woman who finds herself torn between two men.

On her very first morning on the jewel-like island of Capri, Lucie Churchill sets eyes on George Zao and she instantly can’t stand him. She can’t stand it when he gallantly offers to trade hotel rooms with her so that she can have a view of the Tyrrhenian Sea, she can’t stand that he knows more about Casa Malaparte than she does, and she really can’t stand it when he kisses her in the darkness of the ancient ruins of a Roman villa.

The daughter of an American-born Chinese mother and a blue-blooded New York father, Lucie has always sublimated the Asian side of herself, and she adamantly denies having feelings for George. But several years later, when George unexpectedly appears in East Hampton, where Lucie is weekending with her new fiancé, she finds herself drawn to him again. Soon, Lucie is spinning a web of deceit that involves her family, her fiancé and ultimately herself, as she tries to deny George entry into her world – and her heart.

Kevin Kwan’s Sex and Vanity is a modern retelling of A Room With a View, a decadent love story between the wealthy and elite. With a large cast of Asian characters, the novel spans across Italy and America.

Whilst I’m familiar with Kevin Kwan’s previous works, including Crazy Rich Asians, I’m not familiar with A Room With a View .Truthfully, I’ve never read the book nor seen the movie.

Sex and Vanity, much like Kwan’s previous works, sarcastically pokes fun at the uber-rich. However, it falls short of making a lasting impact on the reader. The story is slow at times and I found myself quite bored through the middle. Lucie is not nearly as likeable or as relatable as she could’ve been and George feels quite scarce in the story (strange, considering he’s the love interest). There are some scenes where there are so many characters talking I got confused about what was happening and had to retrace my steps and reread.

Lucie’s relationship with Cecil never makes much sense, and I never got a strong sense of her connection to George. I certainly couldn’t understand why she felt so reluctant to admit her feelings for George. By the time we get to the end of the book, the build-up to Lucie and George’s reunion is completely skipped over. I felt cheated.

“Lucie reached for the crystal goblet in front of her. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but if she had to endure this inquisition for another three courses, she might as well get completely shit-faced.”

There are some notable strengths in the book. George’s mother Mrs Zao is one of the best characters — she steals the attention in every scene in which she appears. Additionally, the insufferable Cecil Pike is also entertaining. His dialogue is quick and witty, and despite him feeling like a caricature and therefore wildly un-relatable, I did enjoy reading about him.

The atmosphere is also fun and engaging. Wealth touches every aspect of the characters’ lives, from their accommodation and their holidays, to their choice of cars and jewellery.

We first meet the characters at an exorbitant wedding in Capri — it’s expensive, over-the-top and there’s a wildly embarrassing incident involving a drone. We’re then whisked away to New York five years later, where Lucie is being proposed to through flash mob dance.

“Lucie said nothing for a moment. She thought of how trivial those sandals had suddenly become to her. In the course of one afternoon, everything had changed. In the blink of an eye, someone had died.”

For a book called Sex and Vanity, there’s not a whole lot of sex happening.

I would’ve liked the romance between Lucie and George to be more present in the book. They’re together briefly in the beginning, but then when we skip forward to New York Lucie is engaged to someone else and her path only collides with George’s sparingly. As a result, their romance just doesn’t feel overly captivating.

“Scanning the cards, Lucie saw that she was assigned to table 3. Almost reflexively, she found herself searching for George’s card and saw that he was at table 8. Damn, was this going to be yet another night where they wouldn’t have the chance to talk at all?”

To be completely honest, it just didn’t feel like this novel explored anything deeper than a romance between two rich people. There’s brief mentions of the difficulties being mixed race, but it’s a very minor mention and other than that, the novel falls flat of more substance.

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

Sex and Vanity
Kevin Kwan
July 2020
Penguin Random House Publishers

The Talking Cure by Professor Gillian Straker and Dr Jacqui Winship

The essence of successful therapy is the relationship between the therapist and the patient, a dance of growing trust and understanding. It is an intimate, messy, often surprising and sometimes confusing business -but when it works, it’s life-changing.

In The Talking Cure, psychotherapists Gill Straker and Jacqui Winship bring us nine inspiring stories of transformation.

They introduce us to their clients, fictional amalgams of real-life cases, and reveal how the art of talking and listening helps us to understand deep-seated issues that profoundly influence who we are in the world and how we see ourselves in relation to others. We come to understand that the transformative power of the therapeutic relationship can be replicated in our everyday lives by the simple practice of paying attention and being present with those we love.

Whether you have experienced therapy (or are tempted to try it), or you are just intrigued by the possibilities of a little-understood but transformative process, this wise and compassionate book will deepen your sense of what it is to be open to connection – and your appreciation that to be human is to be a little bit mad.

The Talking Cure by Professor Gillian Straker and Dr Jacqui Winship brings together eight common struggles brought to therapists.

In each chapter, we meet a different patient with a very different issue that they’re struggling with, and Gillian and Jacqui track their progress and break down their struggles for the reader. Whilst each story in this book is fictional — for confidentiality reasons — the patients are an amalgamation of real patients that exist in the world.

Each hidden struggle in the book is something that is commonly experienced by people within — and outside — of a therapist’s office, including difficult children, closed-off boyfriends, spouses shaken by an unexpected affair, people-pleasers, and more.

It’s quite surprising to recognise yourself in some of these patients. You find yourself genuinely fascinated to see some of your own behaviour in these fictional people, and you can’t help but glimpse the checklist at the end of each chapter to see how much of that ‘category’ you might fit into.

“Meredith had spent so much time thinking about Jade, and imagining her needs and wishes, that her capacity to observe and see her daughter’s actual needs and wishes was impaired. Jade had become a creation of Meredith’s own making.”

Insightful and interesting, The Talking Cure will entice many adult readers interested in learning more about psychology of humans. Don’t try to diagnose yourself with this book though. As I’ve mentioned, the stories in each of the chapters are fictitious and the checklists are merely there as a guide, so take this experience with a grain of salt.

“As I sat in the room with Charlene I experienced her loneliness. Yet even as she was sharing her distress, I felt strangely unmoved. I didn’t feel invited into her world. I felt spoken at rather than spoken to; it seemed to me that I was being asked to bear witness to a story Charlene was telling, but I was prohibited from participating in a dialogue with her.”

Admittedly, The Talking Cure feels a little formulaic after a while. You meet the patient, the psychiatrist reflects on what the ‘struggle’ is and what its effect is, the psychiatrist asks about their childhood and determines that their relationship with their parents and/or siblings explains how they are now, the psychiatrist asks questions to make the patient realise this on their own, and then there’s a checklist for readers to follow. It’s obviously part of the process, but to be completely honest, I was a bit bored by the 5th or 6th chapter.

Additionally, I found Gillian and Jacqui to be incredibly cold in their exchange with the patients (or at least their documented exchange), and truthfully, I never felt that I warmed to either of them throughout the book. There’s something removed about reading these stories, where you never really feel like you’re ‘there’. You feel like a fly on the wall, and sometimes it’s not that interesting.

I’d recommend this book to adult readers who are genuinely interested in the psychology of the human experience, but if you need a little guidance or help with your life, I don’t think this is the first book you should pick up in your journey.

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

The Talking Cure: Normal people, their hidden struggles and the life-changing power of therapy
Professor Gillian Straker and Dr Jacqui Winship
June 2019
Pan Macmillan Publishers

We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal

Zafira is the Hunter, disguising herself as a man to brave the cursed forest of the Arz to feed her people.

Nasir is the Prince of Death, assassinating those foolish enough to defy his autocratic father, the king.

If Zafira was exposed as a girl, her achievements would be rejected; if Nasir displayed compassion, his father would brutally punish him. War is brewing in Arawiya, and when Zafira embarks on a quest to uncover an artifact that can restore magic and stop the Arz, Nasir is sent by the king on a similar mission: retrieve the artifact and kill the Hunter. But an ancient evil stirs-and the prize they seek poses a threat greater than either can imagine.

We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal is the first book in a new fantasy series set in the fictional, once-magical country called Arawiya — inspired by the Middle East and ancient Arabia. The book is about conquering fear and taking identity into your own hands.

Zafira is a hunter who disguises herself as a man every time she enters the Arz — a dark, dangerous and cursed forest where people have gone missing or deranged. Everyone else avoids the forest, but Zafira hunts inside it to provide for her family, friends and village, and to support herself.

Nasir is a Prince and an assassin, and he’s very good. He’s the son of the cruel and horrid Sultan and Nasir does his father’s bidding without ever questioning his actions or his father’s motives. In a way, he seems to have been brainwashed by his father.

“Nasir took the weapons on his person, along with a rucksack containing a few provisions and a change of clothes. He expected this journey to be quick, no longer than a few weeks. Head straight through the Arz, sail to Sharr, follow the Hunter, and bring back the lost Jawarat.”

I had such high hopes for this book, and I’ve been looking forward to it for months. And whilst the premise is intriguing enough and the characters readable, the pacing is a huge letdown. Zafira and Nasir are given a task right at the beginning of a book — they must hunt down a lost artefact that will restore magic to the land, rid the world of evil, and destroy the cursed Arz forest — but then not much happens for the first half of the book. There’s so much dialogue and so much banter, but not a lot of action or plot.

The prose is a bit up and down — sometimes it’s wonderful, lyrical, beautiful. Other times it’s jilted and awkward, and a little too forced. I think perhaps the story was overwritten and needed a good stripping back in the editing stage.

Additionally, the book is told with dual perspectives and most chapters are really short. There’ll be a tense moment in Zafira’s perspective, and then when we get to a heightened moment, the chapter ends and the POV switches to Nasir. It’s a bit jolting and uncomfortable for the reader, and I think the structure could’ve been improved for a better reading experience.

“Her pulse quickened. Against reason, she wanted to go on the quest. To claim this victory for herself. At the very least, she wanted answers. Could a book really bring back magic? Was the caliph involved? He wasn’t bad. If, somehow, he found out she was a woman, she would find her way around. He wouldn’t chop off her head.”

Grief is a strong theme in the book. Zafira’s father went crazy in the Arz and it led to his death, and she’s still very much traumatised by his passing. And Nasir’s mother recently died, and he’s been left alone to deal with his cruel and evil father. It’s a strong theme that runs throughout the book, and I’m sure many readers will be able to relate to Zafira and Nasir’s grief over the death of their beloved parents.

“For once, she appreciated the fearsome, incalculable strangeness of the Arz that made the men disappear. The two Sarasins could be leagues away, and neither she nor they would ever know it. Such was the Arz. This was why so many people who entered never returned — they couldn’t find their way back.”

This book will appeal to fantasy readers, but seasoned readers. This is not the kind of book to give a reluctant reader, and this is not the kind of book that will keep the attention of someone who doesn’t read often. The pacing is too slow and the characters a little too one-dimensional.

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

We Hunt the Flame
Hafsah Faizal
May 2019
Pan Macmillan Publishers

Women’s Work by Megan K. Stack

After her first book was published to acclaim, journalist Megan K. Stack got pregnant and quit her job to write. She pictured herself pen in hand while the baby napped, but instead found herself traumatised by a difficult birth and shell-shocked by the start of motherhood.

Living abroad provided her with access to affordable domestic labour, and, sure enough, hiring a nanny gave her back the ability to work. At first, Megan thought she had little in common with the women she hired. They were important to her because they made her free. She wanted them to be happy, but she didn’t want to know the details of their lives. That didn’t work for long.

When Pooja, an Indian nanny who had been absorbed into the family, disappeared one night with no explanation, Megan was forced to confront the truth: these women were not replaceable, and her life had become inextricably intertwined with theirs. She set off on a journey to find out where they really come from and understand the global and personal implications of wages paid, services received, and emotional boundaries drawn in the home.

Women’s Work by Megan K. Stack is a memoir about raising children abroad, and the relationship that Megan forms with her hired help — Xiao Li, Pooja and Mary.

I identified many issues with the work. Megan is incredibly naive and at times snobby, and her husband Tom really doesn’t come off well. I’m surprised they’re still married, and Megan never seems to confront his role in their relationship and their family. Tom doesn’t help, and he doesn’t even try to help. He’s lazy and judgemental, and makes no effort to understand how much work goes on at home to look after the children. And…..Megan lets it happen. It’s like she doesn’t even care to notice. Her entire book is about the role of women in taking care of children, and rarely does she seem to confront the role of the husband and father in her household, and how he’s not aiding the situation?

“On Sunday Tom discovered that hanging out with tiny children was not a sun-washed field and overflowing picnic basket, but a jumble of physical needs and messy rooms and senseless tears. On Sunday I discovered that my partner didn’t know where the diapers were kept and thought it prudent to let crusty dishes fester in the sink because a ‘maid’ would arrive twenty-four hours later.”

I found the structure of the book quite problematic. Megan is talking about these WOC who help her raise her kids — the fact she has more than one WOC helping her in India should give you an indication of their level of wealth in the countries they’re living in — and while she’s trying to articulate her experiences with them and their role in her family, what she’s really doing is attempting to capture their journey and their life struggles but it’s from her own perspective. And her perspective is skewed. She’s a privileged, rich white woman. What could she possibly understand about these women and their struggles?

To give you an example, she hires Pooja in India to help with the family responsibilities. At first, Pooja is responsible for the cooking, but then afterwards, Pooja takes on more responsibilities looking after the kids. After a while, Pooja develops a drinking problem and becomes irresponsible around the kids. Megan fires her. We learn later that Pooja’s husband was incredibly abusive towards her — physically and emotionally — and no one helped Pooja when he physically attacked her. She got pregnant and performed a self-induced abortion in Megan’s house because she knew she couldn’t go through with the pregnancy, and then she turned to alcohol to cope with what happened to her. But we don’t learn this until the final pages of the book. So when we’re reading from Megan’s POV and she’s angry at Pooja for being reckless around her kids, we can’t help but agree. Pooja is a liability! She must be fired! And then we don’t find out until the very end just how hard Pooja’s life has been and how her poverty and her social status and her total lack of support system attributed to this.

“I agreed to move our family to India with one explicit condition: I would hire domestic staff guiltlessly and lavishly. I’d outsource shopping, meal planning, cooking, cleaning, and laundry. It was Tom’s career that pushed us into India, but I was determined that my work, too, should benefit.”

This book is actually incredibly well-written, so I finished it rather quickly. I enjoyed the direction of the chapters and I wanted to find out more about Megan’s live-in hired help. I wanted to hear their stories, so I kept reading. But Megan? I don’t think this book paints her in a positive light, and I didn’t really take to her. She’s privileged and she’s rich and she takes it upon herself to tell the stories of her help, when really, she doesn’t have a strong cultural understanding of their lives or their suffering. She’s telling their stories from her perspective, and her perspective is incredibly warped and narrow-minded.

I guess I can commend Megan on her acknowledgement of her own judgement. in the beginning, her maid takes her child for a walk and immediately Megan stresses out and worries that they’ve kidnapped her child to sell into slavery. Acknowledging this incredibly judgemental thought means she’s not holding any secrets back in the book. I guess there’s bravery in allowing yourself to look bad.

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

Women’s Work
Megan K. Stack
May 2019
Scribe Publications