JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah

She will discover the best of herself in the worst of times . . .

Texas, 1934. Elsa Martinelli had finally found the life she’d yearned for. A family, a home and a livelihood on a farm on the Great Plains. But when drought threatens all she and her community hold dear, Elsa’s world is shattered to the winds.

Fearful of the future, when Elsa wakes to find her husband has fled, she is forced to make the most agonizing decision of her life. Fight for the land she loves or take her beloved children, Loreda and Ant, west to California in search of a better life. Will it be the land of milk and honey? Or will their experience challenge every ounce of strength they possess?

Kristin Hannah’s The Four Winds is one of my highly anticipated releases for 2021. I absolutely adored her previous novel, The Great Alone, and have been holding out for this new one for months now.

The Four Winds is impeccable — a sweeping, masterful historical fiction feat. It’s emotional and moving, inspiring and just absolutely heartbreaking at times. This is the perfect adult novel, I can’t fault it.

The novel brings to fruition the early 1930s Great Depression and Dust Bowl migration, laying bare the challenges and struggles that American families faced trying to feed their children. Many husbands fled their responsibilities, leaving young women to care for children alone. It was a time of great suffering and prejudice.

“The next morning, Elsa woke well before dawn and found Rafe’s side of the bed empty. He’d slept in the barn again. Lately he preferred it to being with her. With a sigh, she got dressed and left her room.”

Set in Texas, when Elsa and Rafe sleep together outside of wedlock and Elsa falls pregnant, they’re forced to get married. Rafe’s plans to go to college are pulverised, and Elsa is abandoned by her parents — her disgrace has hurt them beyond repair. Elsa and Rafe move in with Rafe’s parents and years pass. Another child is born.

The drought has considerable affect on the family’s farm. Everyone works all day to keep the family afloat, but it’s impossible without any rain. And then one morning, Rafe abandons them and Elsa is forced to make unbelievable sacrifices to keep her children alive.

The Four Winds explores a mother’s sacrifice and determination to provide for her children, but it also explores love and family, friendship and loyalty. In the end, Rafe’s parents end up being more of a family for Elsa than her cold, harsh parents ever were.

“She saw how red his cheeks were from the cold, saw the plumes of his breath and the weight loss that had sunken his face and eyes. For a man who had two religions — God and the land — he was dying a little each day, disappointed by them both.”

Written in third person, Kristin Hannah has crafted emotionally rich characters, people you want to cheer for and people who make you keep turning the pages because you’re desperate to discover more about them. Her books are set in some of the worst conditions, and they show us how resilient and determined people can be when they have something to live for — to fight for.

An underlying theme in the book is that of dreams — wanting a better life. When the harsh and unrelenting Dust Bowl hits, many nearby farmers abandon their homes and travel West in search of a better life. But conditions there aren’t necessarily any better, and people are judged and ostracised for where they’ve come from. There’s little work, even smaller wages to be earned, and the conditions in which they must live are inhumane. And still, Elsa perseveres.

“Another scorcher of a day, and not even ten in the morning. So far, September had offered no respite from the heat. Elsa knelt on the linoleum kitchen floor, scrubbing hard. She had already been up for hours. It was best to do chores in the relative cool of dawn and dusk.”

Gritty and beautiful, highly recommended. I couldn’t fault this even if I tried.

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

The Four Winds
Kristin Hannah
February 2021
Pan Macmillan Publishers

REVIEW AND AUTHOR INTERVIEW: Life After Truth by Ceridwen Dovey

Fifteen years after graduating from Harvard, five close friends on the cusp of middle age are still pursuing an elusive happiness and wondering if they’ve wasted their youthful opportunities. Jules, already a famous actor when she arrived on campus, is changing in mysterious ways but won’t share what is haunting her. Mariam and Rowan, who married young, are struggling with the demands of family life and starting to regret prioritising meaning over wealth in their careers. Eloise, now a professor who studies the psychology of happiness, is troubled by her younger wife’s radical politics. And Jomo, founder of a luxury jewellery company, has been carrying an engagement ring around for months, unsure whether his girlfriend is the one.

The soul searching begins in earnest at their much-anticipated college reunion weekend on the Harvard campus, when the most infamous member of their class, Frederick – senior advisor and son of the recently elected and loathed US president – turns up dead.

Set in 2018, Ceridwen Dovey’s Life After Truth is contemporary fiction centred around a 15-year Harvard college reunion, and how the weekend of re-connection affects a diverse group of five friends.

Reunions evoke soul-searching in even the most secure of people — reflecting on your past life, what you’ve become, have you reached your full potential? Are you where you thought you’d be?

The premise of this novel is a catalyst for a lot of emotional growth in a character, and in this novel there are five of them. Ceridwen’s novel is a breeding ground for a group of people who are forced to decide what they want in their life, and cast away what they don’t. The book explores raw, emotional issues that many readers will be able to relate to — parenthood, marriage, relationships, desire, regret.

“Eloise had made up her mind, back then, that when Jules was with her she’d let her feel free to be nothing much at all — as her friend, she could be a refuge from all the demands other people made on her. They could talk or not talk, be silly or serious, silent or boisterous, share dirty jokes or painful childhood memories.”

Narrated in third person and moving between each of the characters, most of the book is reflecting on the past. Delicately constructed chapters weave a tale of past mistakes, reflections and altercations. The five friends share an intricate past, and tensions rise when they meet for the Harvard reunion.

Ceridwen has a real talent for carving out a characters’ nature using glimpses of their past. Events from their youth have shaped who these five have become today — their attitudes and personalities, but also their worries and concerns, their trigger points. There are moments of bitterness, jealousy, misunderstanding.

By learning about their past selves, we come to understand how these relationships and friendships have evolved over time. Some have dwindled, some have strengthened. Some are on the cusp of something great. There are a couple of connections that threaten to break — secrets left unsaid, tensions unresolved. It’s a fascinating exploration of human society and the middle class. A worthy choice for a book club.

“He hadn’t seen Jules in a while, not since Thanksgiving. He wondered if she had anybody in her life to come home to in the evenings. She was a person who did not naturally share this kind of information even with her closest friends; whether it was because of her nature or her fame, it was hard to tell.”

I think there was room for a little more humour — more lightness. The mood of the novel is a sombre one, very thoughtful. And surprisingly, this novel isn’t really the crime or thriller novel that the blurb suggests. Frederick’s death is discovered at the beginning of the novel, and then it’s resolved again in the very final pages. In between, the story is all about the past. At times, the reflection felt a little overwhelming. I would’ve loved a bit more plot in the present — a bit more interaction between the characters of now, not just the characters from years past.

Other than that, Ceridwen has crafted a novel that really forces a reader to ponder their own life — if you’re thrust back into another time from your life, mingling with people who you spent your youth with, how would you feel about the person you are now? The life you lead?

“Rowan had not really ever had much to elevate him above his similarly brilliant, overachieving peers except that he’d had the great good fortune to meet his ‘soul mate’ on the very first night of college, when he’d laid eyes on Mariam at the freshman ice-cream social held in the Yard.”

Recommended for fans of literary fiction.

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

Life After Truth
Ceridwen Dovey
November 2020
Penguin Random House Publishers

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AUTHOR INTERVIEW WITH CERIDWEN DOVEY

Life After Truth switches focus between numerous characters, all with their own distinct voice. How did you manage the task of crafting the story and capturing each character authentically? Were there difficulties illustrating the timeline for each of these storylines?
This was the first time I’ve ever written using alternating third-person focalized narration (in other words, while inside that character’s consciousness, even though it’s third-person narration, I wouldn’t let them know or be able to express what any of the other characters were thinking in those same scenes/sections). While I’m still quite partial to first-person narration, I really loved writing these different voices like this – something about the third-person helps to give you, as the author, a bit of distance and perspective on the character. It’s not that relentlessly personal “I.” You can play a little more with what the character knows and what only you know as their creator. I didn’t worry too much, while I was writing, about making each voice sound different or distinctive on the page in terms of word and sentence choice, but really just focused on creating equally rich and interesting back stories and emotional dilemmas for them. I did have to be careful with the timeline, especially with Jomo’s sections, which are so crucial to understanding the choices Jules (from whom we never hear directly) makes in the end.


Reflection is a major part of the novel – thinking back on where you once were, and questioning where you are now. Are any events in the novel based on life experiences? 

You’re right that reflection and reassessing one’s own past in relation to others is a key theme in the novel. All the characters are approaching middle age, and there’s nothing like a reunion to throw a spanner in the existential works and make you question all your life choices! I structured the novel over the reunion weekend so that there would be certain scenes in the immediate present (reunion events, etc.) but with plenty of space and time for each character to be casting his/her thoughts backwards, trying to remember who they had once been on that same campus. There are bits and pieces from life experience that I’ve used – I did once think I was actually going to be killed by feral bush pigs while camping above the Ngorongoro Crater, for instance! – but the wonderful thing about writing fiction, as any writer out there knows, is that it never takes the same form on the page as it does in real life. If anything, I would say it was the emotional cadences of my own Harvard reunions that I drew on the most and tried to render in language: the highs and lows, the constant internal monologue interspersed with the forced high sociality of these reunion events, the way they make you look both backwards and into the future in a way that can be very confronting, and also moving or inspiring.

What motivates you to write?

I started quite young on this journey as a writer – I wrote my first novel when I was 23. And I turn 40 this week! So I’ve had a lot of years now to try to answer that question, and I have to admit I still don’t really know. If I have to justify it in concrete terms, I’d say something about the cathartic effect of shaping the messiness of lived experience, or the way I don’t know what I feel or think until I’ve put it into words, or the sense of always standing slightly outside of the normal passage of time and life, peering in, and writing lets me translate that disconnection into connection at a remove. Yet I’ve come to see there’s also something mysterious about what draws a person to write fiction, and thinking about the ‘why’ of it too deeply is a bit like asking a centipede how many legs it has and then expecting it to continue walking on all those legs unselfconsciously. You have to guard the most intimate motivations for why you write fiction otherwise I suspect you’d lose all will to do it in the first place…

Would you be able to delve into your editing process. Once you’ve written the first draft, and you’re ready to tackle the second, third, fourth draft etc, what is your process? How do you mould your first draft into your final one?

Life After Truth is my fourth work of fiction, and with every single one I’ve had a completely different writing and editing process (I think this is why I find writing so addictive: every time, I am literally starting over from scratch with a new method or process, and feel like I don’t know what on earth I’m doing – and as a result, it also always feels like an unknown and exciting adventure). But one thing I have been surprised to learn over the years is how radically different the drafting process (the messy, pour-it-down-on-the-page creation phase) is to the crafting process (the more reasoned and critical let-it-cool-down-and-then-carve-it editing phase). It’s amazing that we expect one human to have both capacities, as they often strike me as drawing on very different skillsets and sensibilities. During drafting, you have to give yourself permission to speak – which is much harder than it sounds! – and switch off every critical faculty in your brain so that you’re not paralyzed by uncertainty or lack of confidence. But then, in the editing phase, you have to be your own harshest critic, be ruthless and severe, and look at what you’ve created with a sceptical eye in the cold light of day. With Life After Truth, this editing process was not quite as devastating as it has been for past projects (where I’ve been trying to excavate my own psyche) because all of the characters were invented, and the stakes weren’t quite as high in an ethical sense, so I found it quite satisfying to hone the narrative. But I think that’s also because the drafting process was so much fun for this novel, and came relatively easily, so in the editing phase I didn’t feel that I had to craft a sculpture out of a lump of clay (as I have felt sometimes in the past) – it was more like just using a tool to refine and polish.

If you could go back in time to when you were working on your first novel, what writing advice or guidance would you give your younger self?
I would tell the early-20-something me, just starting out, incredibly anxious about my ‘right’ to write, to enjoy that experience more. There’s nothing like writing your first novel, because you are writing it for yourself alone, in a fundamental sense – you are writing it with no idea or sense that anybody else will one day read it (even if that is your hope). You only get to experience that once, because after that first novel is published, you are always aware that – even though not all drafts of novels live to find an audience – there is a chance that it might become a public document at some stage. That does something weird to your mind, and I think that’s why the notorious second novel is such a challenge: you’ve lost the feeling of doing something very private and secretive and personal; you’ve lost the sense of writing to figure something out for yourself alone.

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

Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers

Jean Swinney is a feature writer on a local paper, disappointed in love and – on the brink of forty – living a limited existence with her truculent mother: a small life from which there is no likelihood of escape.

When a young Swiss woman, Gretchen Tilbury, contacts the paper to claim that her daughter is the result of a virgin birth, it is down to Jean to discover whether she is a miracle or a fraud. But the more Jean investigates, the more her life becomes strangely (and not unpleasantly) intertwined with that of the Tilburys: Gretchen is now a friend, and her quirky and charming daughter Margaret a sort of surrogate child. And Jean doesn’t mean to fall in love with Gretchen’s husband, Howard, but Howard surprises her with his dry wit, his intelligence and his kindness – and when she does fall, she falls hard.

But he is married, and to her friend – who is also the subject of the story she is researching for the newspaper, a story that increasingly seems to be causing dark ripples across all their lives. And yet Jean cannot bring herself to discard the chance of finally having a taste of happiness…

But there will be a price to pay, and it will be unbearable.

Clare Chambers’ Small Pleasures is a tender and heartwarming novel about middle-age journalist Jean Swinney and young seamstress Gretchen, who claims her 10-year-old daughter was the result of a virgin birth.

Jean is assigned to report on Gretchen’s story and soon becomes heavily entangled within Gretchen’s family, not just because she’s determined to substantiate Gretchen’s story and prove that Margaret is indeed a miracle, but because Jeann forms a growing bond with Gretchen’s caring, compassionate but overlooked husband Howard.

Small Pleasures explores family, expectations and responsibility, but it’s also a really beautiful and budding love story.

“Spontaneous generosity was a new experience for Jean — until today such opportunities had seldom come her way and would probably have gone unnoticed. She and her mother exchanged small, practical gifts at Christmas, of course, but she was a stranger to more ambitious forms of giving.”

The prologue is intriguing, drawing in readers with the concept of a miracle. Small Pleasures weaves in elements of mystery to keep the readers engaged, and enthral them right up until the final chapter.

Small Pleasures presents itself as a quiet novel — something to be read and reflected upon, something that allows you to ponder the impact of companionship on a lonely soul. It is tender and meaningful.

Set in the London suburbs in the 1960s, Jean is a character to sympathise for. She’s nearing 40 and single, she lives with and cares for her ailing mother, and all hope is lost that she’ll find someone to settle down with. When she meets Gretchen, she soon finds a spot in the family and it feels like a sliver of happiness is opening itself up for Jeann.

“Since her last meeting with Gretchen at the hospital she had told herself to maintain a strictly professional distance, avoiding any overtures of friendship in case it clouded her judgement and made a potentially tricky conversation in the future even trickier.”

Clare’s writing is polished and seamless; sentences weave together like water. The dialogue is realistic and the pacing allows for an inviting read. Descriptions and imagery leap off the page — you can tell Claire has spent considerable time perfecting her craft.

Small Pleasures follows multiple genres — it feels literary from the writing style, but it also feels part mystery and part romance. You become invested in the supposed ‘virgin birth’ of Gretchen’s daughter, even though you know it’s medically impossible. You stay with the story because of the growing affection between Jean and Howard.

“The thought of her sister prompted, as always, a mixture of conflicting emotions, principally rancour and envy, but also powerful, protective love, and grief at the distance between them.”

Admittedly, I found the ending of Gretchen’s story to be a little predictable. The second we find out Gretchen was bedridden during her time at the facility, it seemed a little obvious. Whilst we don’t find out the whole truth until the end, it did feel a little too signposted.

I also felt the plot waned in the middle of the book — things slowed, events dragged, and I found myself counting the pages. It wasn’t until a certain someone reconnected with another someone and disrupted her family that the plot picked up again, and I was hooked again until the ending.

Charming and heartwarming, Small Pleasures is recommended for fans of literary fiction and family tales. Suitable for an adult readership.

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

Small Pleasures
Clare Chambers
July 2020
Hachette Book Publishers

The Spill by Imbi Neeme

In 1982, a car overturns on a remote West Australian road. Nobody is hurt, but the impact is felt for decades.

Nicole and Samantha Cooper both remember the summer day when their mother, Tina, lost control of their car – but not in quite the same way. It is only after Tina’s death, almost four decades later, that the sisters are forced to reckon with the repercussions of the crash. Nicole, after years of aimless drifting, has finally found love, and yet can’t quite commit. And Samantha is hiding something that might just tear apart the life she’s worked so hard to build for herself.

Winner of the 2019 Penguin Literary Prize, Imbi Neeme’s debut novel The Spill is an exploration of family, sisters, memories, and how the past can sometimes unconsciously define our futures.

We meet Nicole and Samantha after their mother — Tina — loses control of the car in remote Western Australia and their father is forced to come and pick them up. It is assumed that Tina was drunk, or at least had been drinking, when she lost control of the car. Nicole and Samantha’s parent split soon after, and the accident causes a noticeable ripple affect within the family.

The Spill toys with memory and past events very well. As readers would understand, people can’t always remember events from their past very clearly. Conversations get misquoted and events get distorted over time.

As we move between past and present and come to understand more about Nicole and Samantha’s adult lives, they often bicker or disagree over memories from their childhood. Was Tina actually drinking that day? Why were they on a remote West Australian road? Where were they going? Why did their parents split up?

“Samantha closed her eyes and tried not to think of her husband drinking wine back in the dining room, or of the wine itself. But after a few seconds, the sound of rapid gunfire on the television made her open her eyes again.”

Imbi has crafted an incredible cast of characters in The Spill, each one incredibly fleshed out and three-dimensional, with layers of complexity and depth.

Characterisation is a key part of the story, and it would be incredibly important from Imbi to capture these two sisters differently. The narrative moves between past and present, but it also shifts focus between the sisters. And over time, we come to understand just how different each of these women are.

Both of them blame Tina’s alcoholism for her death. They both had strained relationships with their mother, and only after her death do they start to fill in some of the gaps in Tina’s life.

“Given how many career drunks were in attendance at Tina’s wake, precious little alcohol was being served. All around our large front living room, people were nursing empty glasses, their eyes occasionally darting towards the kitchen.”

The biggest ‘relationship’ explored in the novel, is that of Nicole and Samantha. Sisterhood is a funny thing. There sometimes seems to be more hate than love, particularly during childhood and adolescence, and then there’s a time in your adult lives where you might be too different to ever feel like you fully understand the other.

In The Spill, sometimes it’s the thing left unsaid that speak volumes. Samantha harbours a secret she feels she can control on her own, and Nicole has evidently struggled in past relationships but is reluctant to open up.

The shift between past and present allows for a slow build-up, a well-structured release of tension as secrets start emerging and buried conflicts rise to the surface.

“Their eyes met briefly and then Samantha looked away. She didn’t know why she’d brought up that Christmas. She knew neither of them wanted to think of the fight they’d had and how she’d gone to Nicole’s without him.”

The Spill is an incredibly satisfying, engrossing read. A warm, moving portrait of family and sisterhood. There are moments of humour and lighthearted fun, but there are also moments of tenderness and heartbreak, events that force you to really take stock and reflect as a reader.

Recommended for fans of literary fiction, family sagas, and quality Australian literature.

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

The Spill
Imbi Neeme
June 2020
Penguin Random House Publishers