JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Orphan of Good Hope by Roxane Dhand

Transport yourself from the canals of Amsterdam, across the waves, to the rough-and-tumble frontier town at the Cape of Good Hope.

In 1683 life is gruelling for the young women in Amsterdam’s civic orphanage. The sole light in Johanna Timmerman’s existence is her forbidden love for Frans, an orphan in the boys’ section who has a smile like sunshine. Then he is gone, whisked across the globe to the Dutch East India Company’s nascent colony at Good Hope.

Floriane Peronneau’s privileged world is pleasant and fulfilling until she discovers that it is all built on lies. Far from being the devoted gentleman he seems, her husband Claes is a womanizing degenerate who has led them to the edge of ruin. And the forces are closing in on him.

While Johanna’s love drives her to make a shocking bargain to secure passage to the Cape, Floriane is caught in a terrifying game of cat and mouse. The two women’s lives could not be more different. Yet, on the long, dangerous voyage to the southern tip of Africa, they will become the best of friends – and co-conspirators . . .

Roxane Dhand’s historical fiction novel The Orphan of Good Hope is a sweeping saga about family, inheritance, truth, friendship and fighting for what’s just. Featuring multiple settings and grandiose locations, The Orphan of Good Hope features two strong female protagonists as they fight for their place in a world dominated by dishonest men.

Setting is a leading strength in Roxane’s novel. Initially, we’re engulfed in the canals of Amsterdam; readers will feel enticed and seduced by the European location. Johanna, in particular, feels most at home here. She’s hopeful and uplifted by those around her, and she’s falling in love with fellow orphan Frans. There’s a lot ahead of her.

Whilst we do spend a portion of the book in South Africa, the time spent aboard the ship is where Johanna and Floriane’s journeys really flourish. Here, there’s opportunity. Johanna is determined to pursue the connection with her love interest, and Floriane endeavours to extricate herself from her cheating, thieving husband.

I do think there was more scope to incorporate the weather. In all locations, most scenes are set indoors but there still felt like a distinct lack of temperature or scenery embedded into the chapters. How did the bitter snap of Amsterdam make the ladies feel? And how does this compare the windswept journey aboard the ship? Did they feel more free? And in South Africa, the heat? The landscape? I felt like Roxane never really focused on any of these elements, and it was a missed opportunity to set the locations apart.

“Almost eight years ago, Johanna had made this journey in reverse, but her memories were no help now. She followed behind as they turned right on Kalverstraat, crossed over Dam Square with its town hall and weighing house, and traipsed across a humped bridge to where people, crowds of them, shouted and jostled on the greasy cobbles.”

Split into three parts, The Orphan of Good Hope is written in intimate third person POV, allowing the reader to move between Johanna and Floriane’s perspectives. Johanna is young, but intelligent. She’s mature and measured. She takes chances; she’s distracted by love and the future, but she’s also cautious about her surroundings and her unknown future. Floriane, on the other hand, is older but a little daft. She’s oblivious to her husband’s secrets, and a little slow to catch on. It likely stems from her privilege in society. Whilst she eventually forges a path for herself, determined to leave her husband behind, it did take a bit of time to warm to Floriane. She’s not as relatable.

At times, the POV was a little stilted — the transitions weren’t always seamless — particularly because for most of the novel, Floriane and Johanna were in the same location so it was a little tougher to initially tell the two perspectives apart.

Despite this, I did really enjoy The Orphan of Good Hope. I always gravitate towards historical fiction, particularly any that have strong female protagonists. The exotic locations drew me into the story, and the plot and twists kept me turning the pages. I was determined to find out how Floriane and Johnana’s stories would resolve, and what their lives would look like at the end of the book.

“He crept away without interrupting them, but anger was boiling within him. Backed into a recess at the side of the ship, Claes concealed himself in darkness and chewed on his lip till blood seeped into his mouth. Slipping his hand inside his coat, he fingered his short-bladed dagger in its sheath at his belt.”

Layered within the story are hints of violence, betrayal, mystery and danger. Women weren’t safe in the 1600s, no matter where they were. Men couldn’t always be trusted, and Johanna has to be incredibly vigilant and aware of her surroundings, the threat of danger looming, forever on the cusp.

Floriane also finds herself in some potentially dangerous situations, particularly when she’s working against her husband and trying to catch him out for his thievery and dishonesty. Roxane builds tension with slow and measured scenes — The Orphan of Good Hope is a slow-build, a historical novel simmering with intrigue and possibility.

“Time on board ship passed slowly but, still, days eventually turned into weeks, and there were even moments when time got away from Johanna.”

Recommended for fans of historical fiction, and sweeping sagas with a large cast and a faraway setting.

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

The Orphan of Good Hope
Roxane Dhand
September 2020
Penguin Book Publishers Australia

I Give My Marriage A Year by Holly Wainwright

Lou and Josh have been together for 14 years. They share two kids, a mortgage, careers and plenty of history. Now, after a particularly fraught Christmas, Lou is ready to ask herself: is this marriage worth hanging on to?

Every month for a year, Lou sets a different test for their relationship – from daily sex to brutal honesty – to help her decide if she should stay or go. Secrets are exposed, old wounds reopened and a true-to-life suburban love story unfolds.

I Give My Marriage a Year paints a sharply accurate, often hilarious picture of a modern Australian marriage. Lou and Josh are a couple on the edge, and their efforts to bring their relationship back from the brink will resonate with anyone who has ever asked themselves: is this enough?

Whose side will you take? Who deserves a second chance? And will Josh and Lou stay together or split for good?

Holly Wainwright’s I Give My Marriage A Year is contemporary women’s fiction spanning twelve months. We meet Lou and Josh after they’ve been together for 14 years and are raising two daughters. Frustrated and exhausted, Lou is giving herself 12 months to decide if she wants to stay married to Josh.

Each month, Lou sets different tasks to help her determine the longevity of their relationship. Sex every day. Therapy. Fun. Positivity. Honesty. Etc. And at the end, she has to make a decision about the future of their relationship.

The novel is well-written, well-rounded, with brief but illuminating snapshots into Lou and Josh’s lives. Each chapter evokes sympathy and empathy for the characters, presenting alternate sides to the marriage and allowing the reader to delve into the foundation of their relationship.

“This was the kind of thought he used to share with Lou. Once, she would have laughed if he said that out loud to her. Looking towards the car, Josh could tell by the set of her shoulders that she would choose note to find that funny these days. Especially not now.”

Truthfully, the characters are wildly unlikable — Lou is probably the most unlikable. She’s bitter, unapologetic. And whilst her husband isn’t perfect, I couldn’t focus much on his character because I was so distracted by my own dislike of Lou. The only likeable character in the whole book was Lou’s best friend Gretchen.

And yet, I liked this book? I kept reading? I found myself incredibly invested in their marriage? I found myself recognising others in their relationship — in their fights, their arguments, their means of pushing through an uncomfortable moment. I don’t think you can write this kind of book with likeable people in mind. Relationships are messy and ugly, and your partner sees the worst in you. We’re seeing the worst in Lou and Josh.

“They used to talk about everything, the two of them, lying in bed. It was his favourite place to be in the world, on his side, looking at Lou, listening to her talk. He liked to play with her hair while she told him stories about the kids she was teaching, about her friends, about the news, and politics.”

Stylistically, the book is a bit overwhelming. Not only do we flick back and forth between Lou and Josh in the present, we also flick back and forth between Lou and Josh in the past. So essentially, it feels like there are four timelines working to construct the history of their relationship. Not every chapter felt necessary — not every chapter felt seamless.

It does feel like this is a unique addition to the contemporary women’s fiction genre. So many stories are written about the start of a relationship, or the end of one, but what about the middle? What about when it’s been fourteen years and you’re struggling to decide whether to stay or to go? Many readers, all at different stages of a relationship, will gravitate towards this novel.

“If Lou was curious about why Josh was suddenly making plans for them, after more than a decade of her being the one who made social arrangements, organised ‘date nights’ and controlled the calendar, she didn’t say so.”

The secondary characters contributed an added layer of depth to the story and its characters. Lou and Josh’s attitude towards love, relationships, and resolving conflict can be seen in their parents’ relationships as well.

Additionally, any readers pursuing some sort of creative career may recognise themselves in Josh. He was an aspiring musician but then took a job in carpentry to help Lou with bills, and building a family. Years later, he feels like he missed an opportunity to pursue a career he really wanted.

Absorbing and intoxicating. Readership skews female, 25+

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

I Give My Marriage A Year
Holly Wainwright
September 2020
Pan Macmillan Publishers

The Morbids by Ewa Ramsey

Caitlin is convinced she’s going to die.

Two years ago she was a normal twenty-something with a blossoming career and a plan to go travelling with her best friend, until a car accident left her with a deep, unshakable understanding that she’s only alive by mistake.

Caitlin deals with these thoughts by throwing herself into work, self-medicating with alcohol, and attending a support group for people with death-related anxiety, informally known as the Morbids.

But when her best friend announces she’s getting married in Bali, and she meets a handsome doctor named Tom, Caitlin must overcome her fear of death and learn to start living again.

Beautiful, funny, and universally relatable this story of hidden loneliness and the power of compassion and companionship reminds us that life is an adventure truly worth living.

Ewa Ramsey’s literary novel The Morbids captures the crippling fear of death, and explores mental illness and anxiety and the powerful hold they have over their captives.

Caitlin walked away from a car accident completely unscathed, whilst the driver was killed instantly. Ever since, she’s felt death’s presence hovering over her — she’s convinced she’s going to die. And every Tuesday, she attends a community group called The Morbids, where she communicates with other people who also fear an untimely demise.

When we meet her, one might be fooled into thinking she’s coping. She regularly attends these therapy meetings, but the therapists aren’t overly helpful or directive, and it feels like being around other people constantly anxious about death might actually be stopping Caitlin from healing and moving forward with her life.

And whilst she successfully holds down a job as a waitress at a restaurant, she’s got a strained relationship with her family — who don’t sympathise for her situation, nor do they approve of her job — and she’s been slowly distancing herself away from her best friend, Lina. Her best friend’s getting married in Bali and Caitlin can’t bring herself to organise the flights or accommodation, let alone ask her boss for the time off. She’s a ticking time bomb.

“There was nothing wrong with me, nothing wrong with not believing in fairytales or happily-ever-afters; nothing wrong with not needing anyone else to make you happy. I was just being careful. The thought startled me, unsettled me.”

Structurally, the chapters move between past and present, but so does the prose within each chapter. Caitlin’s mind is scattered, a little uneven and also unreliable. Ewa has cleverly constructed this novel to embody the chaos going on in Caitlin’s head, whilst also threading a story that is easy to follow and absorbing to read.

Ewa explores mental illness and anxiety with great care and compassion; Caitlin’s state of mind fluctuates as we progress through the novel. The impending wedding in Bali, and her budding romance with a handsome doctor propels forward her day-to-day and when everything reaches a head, Caitlin is forced to confront her illness.

Caitlin’s friendship with Lina is an interesting one; Caitlin hides herself away from her best friend, even though she’s probably the one person who can help Caitlin at this time in her life. Perhaps Caitlin feels like a burden, perhaps she struggles to articulate her own thoughts and feelings — perhaps she feels like she can fix herself. Readers will recognise parts of themselves in Caitlin, but they may also recognise a friend or family member. Mental illness is complex and at times, all-encompassing. This book might be a comforting read for some, and perhaps uplifting for others.

“In the year or so I’d been coming, there had been a lot of new faces. Most only came once. They were sent by doctors or shrinks or their local mental health service, but you didn’t need a referral and it was free, right down to the tea and coffee, so occasionally we’d get tourists…Death was huge on Facebook, if you knew where to look.”

I do think this book is suited to seasoned readers, not reluctant ones. This is not the book you pick up for a beach read, or an aeroplane read. It’s literary fiction and tough going in parts. At times, the pacing is quite slow and the plot a little non-existent. I suspect reluctant adult readers may pick this up and then put it down a third of the way through.

But for fans of literary fiction? Slow-burn character-driven stories? Debut novel The Morbids is a welcome addition to your bookshelf.

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

The Morbids
Ewa Ramsey
September 2020
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

Malorie by Josh Malerman

In the old world there were many rules. In the new world there is only one: don’t open your eyes.

In the seventeen years since the ‘creatures’ appeared, many people have broken that rule. Many have looked. Many have lost their minds, their lives, their loved ones.

In that time, Malorie has raised her two children – Olympia and Tom – on the run or in hiding. Now nearly teenagers, survival is no longer enough. They want freedom.

When a census-taker stops by their refuge, he is not welcome. But he leaves a list of names – of survivors building a future beyond the darkness – and on that list are two names Malorie knows.

Two names for whom she’ll break every rule, and take her children across the wilderness, in the hope of becoming a family again…

Josh Malerman’s Malorie is the sequel to the cultural sensation-turned-Netflix-movie Birdbox, starring Sandra Bullock.

In this follow up, Malorie is even more cautious and paranoid than when we last saw her. She’s had seventeen years to perfect her methods of survival. She’s got two teenage children now and even though they’re old enough to look after themselves, they’re teenagers and they don’t always obey the rules. They don’t remember the world before the creatures — sometimes they’re too trusting, and they don’t always understand why they can’t look outside at the real world.

Malorie needs to learn to trust her children. She needs to learn to loosen the reigns a little. She’s hyper-cautious and strict, and she doesn’t trust easily, and whilst it’s easy to understand her characterisation, her son Tom in particular grows quite resentful of her smothering nature over the course of the novel.

“Malorie thinks of Gary. It makes sense. A man arrives at the camp. He knocks. He speaks from the other side of the door. All good intentions, of course. Until you let him in, of course. Then he makes friends with the others, ingratiates himself to the point where your own kids turn on you, and presto, you’ve welcomed an old-world mad-man into your life.”

It’s fascinating reading this whilst living through a pandemic. You can suddenly relate to the characters’ fear of the unknown, the scepticism, the uncertainty and the doubt. The blindfolds feel strangely close to masks, and remembering myself watching the film — pre COVID-19 — with no idea of what was to come to the world, is a strange thought.

Malorie is a bit of a balancing act — road trip, survival story, family drama, teenage angst. There are so many different elements to the story and Josh does a really fantastic job of juggling them all and maintaining interest from the reader. There are lots of twists and turns, plot points I didn’t see coming. Although admittedly, there are some moments where Tom goes from being an understandably rebellious teenager, to being just that little bit too annoying and unlikable.

“Tom is stricken by how alive Malorie looks. Her eyes appear bright memories, realisations, decisions. The bag beside her is full. She wears a hoodie and long pants, gloves and boots. In one hand is the blindfold she just removed.”

Whilst you can read Malorie without having read or watched Birdbox, I’d advise you familiarise yourself with its predecessor. It would make for a richer and more enjoyable experience when reading Malorie. There are frequent mentions to events from the previous book, particularly surrounding the character Gary, and I do think readers who are unfamiliar with Birdbox will get confused easily.

“She thinks of Camp Yadin and how safe they were. She can almost feel the texture of the rope in her gloved hands, rope connecting each building, one of which housed canned goods, another with a garden beside it. She sees herself, waking there, walking there, living there, safe. She hears herself asking the teens what might be outside.”

Whilst the ending of the book is satisfactory and satisfying, I felt like the pacing was inconsistent. The book moves at a slow but tense pace, drawing the reader in and keeping them engaged throughout. But the ending is incredibly fast and rushed. I almost couldn’t believe Malerman was going to wrap up the story in such a short amount of pages, and yet, he did. I wish some more time had been spent on the ending.

Highly recommended, although do read or watch Birdbox first.

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

Malorie
Josh Malerman
August 2020
Hachette Book Publishers Australia

Kitty is Not A Cat: Teddy’s Bear and Lights Out

A warmly funny junior-fiction series about Kitty, a little girl who believes she can be anything she dreams – even a cat. When Kitty arrives on the doorstep of a house full of music-mad felines, their lives are turned upside down as they attempt to teach her how to be human.

Some children hate going to bed. Not Kitty! Kitty falls asleep every night curled up snug as a bug in a bed box. That is, until one spooky night when Kitty’s night-light goes missing and her fear of the dark comes creeping out. The cats, unfamiliar with the concept, try to settle her down but to no avail. In the end, it won’t be a night-light that saves the day.

What could be better that a cuddly teddy bear? How about a real-life grizzly bear! Kitty and the bear spend a fun-filled afternoon together, but it doesn’t take long for Kitty to realise that having a grizzly bear for a playmate may be a little more trouble that she thought.

Teddy’s Bear and Lights Out are the first two books in a new children’s series by Australian author Jess Black. Kitty is not a Cat is a fun, entertaining junior fiction series about a young girl who moves in with a family of stray cats in a rundown old mansion.

In Teddy’s Bear, Kitty’s new family decide to bring home a grizzly bear to keep Kitty company during the winter months. The disgruntled bear wreaks havoc across the house and is quite an unnatural fit in the family dynamic.

In Lights Out, Kitty’s fear of the dark results in the cats coming up with strategies to help her overcome her terror. Many readers will be able to relate to Kitty’s fear of the dark.

“Mr Clean slowly stepped forward. He was a dirty tabby cat, so filthy that nobody — not even Kitty — knew the real colour of his fur under the layers of dirt…Petal and Kitty strained to see what Mr Clean was holding. To Kitty, it looked like it just might be a real teddy bear.”

Humour is littered throughout both stories, as well as heart and hope. The characters form a very dysfunctional family, but Kitty feels most at home when she’s with the cats. Both of these books will teach children the importance of family, self-belief and acceptance, but they’re also incredibly fun and engaging books that young readers will devour.

Visually, the books are a great balance of prose, dialogue and illustrations. The illustrations have been crafted digitally, with a kind of cartoonish feel to them. There’s a lot of orange to make the grey and black artistic elements really pop for the reader. Some of the words or sentences are singled out for illustrations as well — big, loopy, colourful letters that add a nice touch to the story.

“Kitty pulled a face. She wasn’t so sure, but she got back into her bed box anyway. The cats took turns to kiss her goodnight…Left alone in the dark, Kitty squinted around the room fearfully and buried herself under the covers.”

These books are perfect for young readers just starting out in junior fiction. They’re not overly long, and the plots are fairly simplistic, but readers will resonate particularly with the premise of Lights Out, and the illustrations will aid the reader in forging a path through the book. The audience feels like it sways more towards a female readership.

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

Kitty is Not a Cat: Teddy’s Bear & Lights Out
Jess Black
August 2020
Hachette Book Publishers