JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Shape of Water by Guillermo Del Toro and Daniel Kraus

It is 1962, and Elisa Esposito—mute her whole life, orphaned as a child—is struggling with her humdrum existence as a janitor working the graveyard shift at Baltimore’s Occam Aerospace Research Center. Were it not for Zelda, a protective coworker, and Giles, her loving neighbor, she doesn’t know how she’d make it through the day.

Then, one fateful night, she sees something she was never meant to see, the Center’s most sensitive asset ever: an amphibious man, captured in the Amazon, to be studied for Cold War advancements. The creature is terrifying but also magnificent, capable of language and of understanding emotions…and Elisa can’t keep away. Using sign language, the two learn to communicate. Soon, affection turns into love, and the creature becomes Elisa’s sole reason to live.

But outside forces are pressing in. Richard Strickland, the obsessed soldier who tracked the asset through the Amazon, wants nothing more than to dissect it before the Russians get a chance to steal it. Elisa has no choice but to risk everything to save her beloved. With the help of Zelda and Giles, Elisa hatches a plan to break out the creature. But Strickland is on to them. And the Russians are, indeed, coming.

The Shape of Water weaves fantasy, fable and mystery. It was put together by two artists — award-winning director Guillermo del Toro and author Daniel Kraus. Scattered throughout the novel are black and white sketch illustrations by visual artist James Jean. These illustrations help give the reader a sense of vision, and they allow us to imagine this story on the big screen.

I was intrigued to read this novel after the movie won Best Picture at the Oscars. It has such an odd plot and quite a quirky romance that I was definitely keen to see what all the fuss was about.

This novel may appeal to all age groups, but it is written like an adult novel, with complex vocabulary and a dry third-person narration. The pacing is quite slow but the characters are full of depth. Given Elisa’s mutism, there isn’t much dialogue to the book. The Shape of Water is mostly prose and description.

“Man should be better than monsters.”
“Ah, but who are the monsters?”

The Shape of Water also highlights the gender inequality of the 1960s. The two main female characters are cleaners, with low-paying jobs and very little respect. The ‘important’ workers involved in the project are all men, and some of them are very dismissive towards Elisa and Zelda. The novel also explores the relationship between Strickland and his wife Lainie. She stays at home with the children, not working or having the chance to make many friends. He’s away for work, sometimes months at a time, and there is very little communication between the two.

There is a definite imbalance in each relationship. Strickland is rarely home and when he is, he doesn’t treat his wife with much respect. He’s dismissive and doesn’t understand how demanding their children are. Over the course of the novel, Lainie finds her own purpose and starts to imagine a life without Strickland.

Additionally, Zelda’s husband Brewster is useless and unappreciative of his wife. He’s demanding and he belittles her and Elisa often thinks about how Zelda would be better off without him in her life.

“Working women don’t get to scurry home and bury their faces in pillows when they’ve been yelled at. You settle your trembling hands by wrapping them around your tools and returning to work.”

The pacing is a little inconsistent. The book takes a long time to kick off — with a lot of backstory and build up — and then the final third of the book moves so quickly that I actually had to go back and reread a few chapters because I was sure that I had missed something integral.

I haven’t seen the movie, but this novel feels void of character emotion. This is supposed to be a grand love story between Elisa and the sea creature, and yet, their romance seems to blossom very quickly but behind the scenes so the reader doesn’t really witness it. And then there’s this grand plan to save the creature from his fate, and I found it quite predictable. Truthfully, I didn’t find myself hugely invested in their romance.

“Zelda kneels to pick up the punch card. Yolanda’s going wild behind her. But all Zelda hears is Brewster carrying on about how she shouldn’t trust anyone. He doesn’t know Elisa, though, does he? Of course he doesn’t. Despite their long years of friendship, Elisa’s never been to Zelda’s home, not once.”

This novel will appeal to people who, like me, want to read the book before they see the movie. It’s not my favourite novel, nor my favourite fantastical romance, but it is something rather different and the characters carry this novel just as much as the plot does.

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

The Shape of Water
Guillermo Del Toro & Daniel Kraus
March 2018
Pan Macmillan Publishers

Before I Let You Go by Kelly Rimmer

As children, Lexie and Annie were incredibly close. Bonded by the death of their beloved father, they weathered the storms of life together. When Lexie leaves home to follow her dream, Annie is forced to turn to her leather-bound journal as the only place she can confide her deepest secrets and fears…

As adults, sisters Lexie and Annie could not be more different. Lexie is a successful doctor and happily engaged. Annie is an addict – a thief, a liar and unable to remain clean. When Annie’s newborn baby is in danger of being placed in foster care, Annie picks up the phone to beg her sister for help. Will Lexie agree to take in her young niece? And how will Annie survive, losing the only thing in her life worth living for?

At its core, Before I Let You Go by Kelly Rimmer poses a moral dilemma: what would you do if your sister — a drug addict — tells you that she’s pregnant and that she needs your help? How far would you go to ensure the safety of that child, even if it means being taken away from the mother?

Lexie is exhausted by her sister always catapulting into her life. The two haven’t spoken in two years, but when Annie resurfaces, Lexie knows her life is going to change dramatically. And it does. Annie is pregnant, but addicted to drugs, and she needs help. Lexie acts fast, admitting her to hospital until the baby is born and helping Annie try to get better for the sake of her child.

“Instead of planning a wedding and focusing on my work, I’m going to be once again diving down a rabbit hole with Annie, this time, dragging Sam along behind me.”

At first, Lexie frustrated me. She was too nice to her sister, given how much pain and danger the baby was in. She seemed too forgiving — too sympathetic. Addicts can’t control their behaviour most times, but even after Annie starts to get clean, Lexie is by her bedside trying to please Annie and give her everything she wants.

But Kelly Rimmer has done a fantastic job of Lexie’s characterisation. She grows over the course of the novel. Yes, at times she’s frustrating because she shuts out her partner and she makes decisions without really thinking about them, but she learns that her sister is not her sole responsibility. She can’t heal her, nor can she mother her. She needs to let her heal herself.

“In all of this, Sam has never once judged me. Maybe that’s why I can’t tell him. He’s been so perfect in all of this. What’s going to be the straw that breaks his back? When am I going to see the moment when it’s all just too much?”

Kelly Rimmer weaves backstory into the prose really effortlessly. Through Annie’s diary entries, we learn how the two girls grew up, and what caused their tumultuous relationship with their mother. We learn how Annie found her way to drugs, and what caused her down the path she is on.

Annie’s storyline and character arc is incredibly realistic — Kelly has captured her anguish and addiction very effectively and I actually think Annie is a much stronger character than Lexie. She seems to have an internal conflict between her best and worst self — her past and present self.

“When I realised I was pregnant, I thought I’d found The Answer. You’ve probably heard other patients talk about the same idea — every addict knows about The Answer. It’s the silver bullet that you think you need to fix your life — usually something that will cure the addiction — or even better, some way to solve your problems but allow you to keep right on using, which is what you really want to do.”

This isn’t a novel about a troubled sister getting clean. This is a tale about the complexities of addiction; it is about how difficult it can be to kick your habit, even though you have a little baby to live for. Addiction is cruel, and unforgiving. It takes hard work to get clean, and sometimes even the strongest fail.

Filled with warmth and wisdom, Before I Let You Go is both heart-wrenching and heartwarming. I won’t give away too much, but I felt that the ending to this novel was satisfactory. It was realistic, given what has happened between these two women and how the story progressed.

This may be a fiction novel about the relationship between two sisters and their hidden past, but I actually think that readers who love mystery/thrillers will really like this. The book is pacy and punchy, and the characters really pull you into the story. The novel leaves you in anticipation along the way, and you find yourself continually trying to guess what will happen at the end and also what you would do if you were in Lexie’s situation.

Given the moral dilemma that forms the basis of the premise, this novel will also appeal to fans of Jodi Picoult.

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

Before I Let You Go
Kelly Rimmer
March 2018
Hachette Book Publishers

Small Spaces by Sarah Epstein

“We don’t pick and choose what to be afraid of. Our fears pick us.”

Tash Carmody has been traumatised since childhood, when she witnessed her gruesome imaginary friend Sparrow lure young Mallory Fisher away from a carnival. At the time nobody believed Tash, and she has since come to accept that Sparrow wasn’t real.

Now fifteen and mute, Mallory’s never spoken about the week she went missing. As disturbing memories resurface, Tash starts to see Sparrow again. And she realises Mallory is the key to unlocking the truth about a dark secret connecting them. Does Sparrow exist after all? Or is Tash more dangerous to others than she thinks?

Small Spaces by Sarah Epstein is a debut psychological thriller that explores the notion of imaginary friends and fractured memories, and learning to trust your own instincts.

Tash Carmody is an unreliable narrator. She’s not sure if she can trust her own mind, and she’s been told for the past nine years that her friend Sparrow was just imaginary. She’s been told that what she remembers from the night of the carnival — when Mallory went missing — is a false memory.

“I dig my fingernails into the seat and swallow my rising panic. I know who I think I saw, but there’s no way I can admit it out loud. Mum glances at me expectantly and suddenly I’m eight years old again, fumbling through explanations about Sparrow and the carnival, only to be met with confusion and impatience.”

One of the major strengths of the book is the dynamic between Tash and her parents. Their strained relationship and their constant concern and overbearing nature will resonate with young readers. Tash’s mum is always looking for a reason to be disappointed in Tash, or bring up her ‘condition’. I think Sarah wrote their relationship really well, and allowed it to evolve over the course of the novel.

The novel is well-paced, and moves between past and present really effortlessly. There are also chapters where Tash is talking to her therapist, and I think Sarah captured those conversations really well. The dialogue is realistic, and the pacing of the novel contributes to the overall ‘creepiness’ of the story, and the reader’s desire to get to the end of the book and find out the truth.

“Rachel and I exchange another look that tells me we’re both one hundred per cent sure any common ground we once had has been torched and decimated. She turns away from us and buries her nose in her journal.”

I think Sarah foreshadowed too much in the first half of the novel. At no point did I actually think Tash was imagining things, even when she starts to believe it herself. I thought the dynamic between Tash and her aunt Ally was a little unrealistic from the beginning, which meant I was suspicious of their relationship and what secrets it may hold.

Additionally, I think the problems between Tash and her friend Sadie were solved too quickly. Their relationship has cracks in it, and they build and build until there’s a breaking point. That is written really effectively. And then, the climax is really sudden and short and everything seems to solve itself really fast. It jolts the reader and leaves them feeling unnerved by the rapid ending of the book.

“Beside me my mother heaves a sigh, and the security team hurries away. I sink into a wooden seat and rest my elbows on my legs to stop them trembling. I can’t look Mum in the face, and she’s interested in me anyway.”

Small Spaces is perfect for teen readers. If you’re a regular reader of thrillers and mysteries, you may find the ending a little unsurprising, but it’s a fast-paced book with a lot of twists and turns, and you will be guessing until the very end.

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

Small Spaces
Sarah Epstein
April 2018
Walker Books Australia

The Lebs by Michael Mohammed Ahmad

As far as Bani Adam is concerned Punchbowl Boys is the arse end of the earth. Though he’s a Leb and they control the school, Bani feels at odds with the other students, who just don’t seem to care. He is a romantic in a sea of hypermasculinity.

Bani must come to terms with his place in this hostile, hopeless world, while dreaming of so much more.

The Lebs by Michael Mohammed Ahmad is a coming of age novel set in Punchbowl, Sydney.

This is an adult novel, but it would still be very relatable for teenagers — particularly males. It’s mostly set within a high school, and explores the relationship between Bani and his friends, and some of the girls that he meets over the course of the year.

The novel is saturated with swearing and adult themes, so I’d definitely set a 15+ age recommendation on the book.

The Lebs explores themes of race, gender, sexuality and identity, all through the telescope of male teenagers. It’s set in the wake of September 11, when most Muslim and Arabic men are labelled terrorists or rapists. The novel highlights racism in Australia, and would be particularly eye-opening for white readers.

The dialogue is sharp and blunt, and Michael Mohammed Ahmad has done a great job of really painting all of these characters through their dialogue. There are a lot of scenes featuring a large number of teenage voices, and I think the author did well to differentiate them so that the reader doesn’t get too confused when reading.

“I look onto Osama and Shaky, and they lock onto me, and onto one another, a triangle of thorns. I hear the thoughts transmitting through their gaze, telling me that this isn’t the girl from the plays we learn at school; this is the girl from the news, the girl who sends us to prison.”

The writing in this book almost feels like stream of consciousness — long sentences with very little punctuation and a real concentration is needed in order to follow what’s going on.

At first glance, not much actually happens in the book. Sure, Bani talks about his friendships and his first girlfriend and then we read as he joins a multicultural arts program. But at its core, there doesn’t seem to be a message or a theme or any kind of meaning. It’s just, meaningless teenage stuff in Punchbowl?

And then I realised, that’s the point of the book. This is about Bani navigating his school year and all that’s going on, and the reader getting a real insight into life as a student at a school where no one really seems to care about much and life is rife with hyper-masculinity.

‘Bani Adam thinks he’s better than us!’ they say over and over until finally I shout back, ‘Shut up, I have something to say!’

They all go quiet and wait for me to explain myself, redeem myself, pull my shirt out, rejoin the pack. I hold their anticipation for three seconds, and then, while they’re all ablaze, I say out loud, ‘I do think I’m better.’

I’m glad that this novel is only 250 pages, because if it were any longer I would’ve lost interest. The plot and the narration starts to drag a little towards the end, and I wasn’t as absorbed in the storyline and the characters as I thought I would be. This isn’t really my favourite book, but I still followed along and finished the story.

This book would appeal to Sydney-siders, or young teenage boys looking for a story they can relate to. Literary fiction readers might find some of the content quite confronting, but the lyricism and poetic flow of the book will probably intrigue them enough to enjoy the read.

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

The Lebs
Michael Mohammed Ahmad
March 2018
Hachette Book Publishers

The Queen of Bloody Everything by Joanna Nadin

Dido Sylvia Jones is six years and twenty seven days old when she moves from London squat to suburban Essex and promptly falls in love with Tom Trevelyan, the boy next door. It’s not just him Dido falls for, though: it’s also his precocious sister, Harry, and their fastidious, controlling mother, Angela.

Because Angela is everything that Edie – Dido’s own mother – is not. And the Trevelyans are exactly the kind of family Dido dreams of.

Normal.

Which is what Dido wants to be, more than anything else in the world. But normal is the very thing Edie can never be, as Dido – and the Trevelyans, including Dido’s beloved Tom – will eventually learn the hard way.

The Queen of Bloody Everything by Joanna Nadin is a heartbreaking and heartwarming novel about family, relationships, and what it means to be ‘normal’.

This book explores the relationship between Dido and her mother Edie. Dido doesn’t know who her father is, and so it’s always been just her and her mother. And even though she loves Edie, even a young Dido knows that there’s something dysfunctional about their family. Edie is a single mother and she’s blunt, brazen, brash and defiant. She doesn’t conform to society’s expectations of her, but over time Dido learns to accept her mother for who she is.

The book is written in second-person, from Dido to her mother Edie. At first, the positioning is a little jolting for the reader, but I eased into the story quite quickly and I learnt to accept the second-person narration.

“Though you were there, I know you were — you wouldn’t let me go alone, although that was suggested when you refused to get dressed, and then refused to get into the Daimler. But in the end you came, in your pyjamas and jumper with a tutu skirt pulled over the trousers.”

We are introduced to Dido in the 1970s when she is six years’ old, and she has the energetic but unapologetic nature of most children. It makes for a fun and enjoying read.

As Dido grows older, we follow her journey through school and university. This book is not just about her tumultuous relationship with her mother. It’s about her friendship with Harry next door, and Harry’s brother Tom. Dido’s love for Tom lingers for most of her life, but their time together always seems short and fleeting. As the reader, you grow to love each of these characters and you keep reading because you want to find out how their stories end.

The Queen of Bloody Everything explores the notion of dreaming for another life. Dido grows up wishing her family was more like the Trevelyan family. She dreams of a different mother and a different home life. When Tom starts dating other girls, Dido dreams that she was his — that it was her who Tom chose.

“Small town, small minds,” you say, as now-to-be-neighbours watch us through twitching nets as we drag dustbin bags and old crisp boxes from the back of Maudsley Mick’s Transit. I stare back defiantly as I march up the path, ignoring the trail of tampons, playscripts, a potato masher that I leave in my wake.

Dido grows up, but she continues to come home and visit Edie. Despite her mother doing some truly awful things during Dido’s childhood, Dido doesn’t ever stay away for too long. Their relationship is difficult and complex, and readers will relate to this a lot.

The novel is full of wit and heart, and I highly recommend that everyone read this book. It was definitely a surprise for me — based on the blurb, I wasn’t anticipating that I would love this novel as much as I did.

“It’s as if someone has stripped and stood me under a spotlight. I am aware of every extra inch of me compared to her. What must it feel like to him, I wonder. Like kneading dough, maybe. Probably. And yet I don’t stop him.”

The Queen of Bloody Everything is tender and humorous, warm and entertaining. The characterisation is the book’s biggest strength; the reader falls in love with Dido and her friends, and even her mother Edie. You read the book wanting to know how their journeys will end, after all the decades that they’ve spent together.

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

The Queen of Bloody Everything
Joanna Nadin
February 2018
Pan Macmillan Publishers

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