JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

Everything Feels Like the End of the World by Else Fitzgerald

Each story is anchored, at its heart, in what it means to be human: grief, loss, pain and love. A young woman is faced with a difficult choice about her pregnancy in a community ravaged by doubt. An engineer working on a solar shield protecting the Earth shares memories of their lover with an AI companion. Two archivists must decide what is worth saving when the world is flooded by rising sea levels. In a heavily policed state that preferences the human and punishes the different, a mother gives herself up to save her transgenic child.

These transformative stories are both epic and granular, and forever astonishing in their imaginative detail, sense of revelation and emotional connection. They herald the arrival of a stunning new voice.

Else Fitzgerald’s short story collection Everything Feels Like the End of the World is a series of compact speculative fiction tales exploring possible futures in Australia – some settings don’t seem too far removed from our present life, but others are vastly different and set thousands of years into an unrecognisable future.

God, I really appreciated the brevity of some of these stories – at just 250 pages, this book has thirty-seven stories and they’re all just as rich and engrossing as each other. Jumping through different stories at quite a fast pace is actually a really refreshing read, so many short story collections have substantial (and therefore few in number) stories, and as a result, the pacing can lull a little in the middle. I loved the structure of this book and the order of the stories, which worked together cohesively across the course of the book.

“Out over the edge of the rooftop the reddish sun is sinking, its brightness so reduced from the smoke that you can stare right at it without hurting your eyes. At the far end of the roof garden shared by all the residents of the building, white sheets on the clotheslines flap in the smoky breeze – surrender of defiance, you’re not sure.”

Else’s specificity, particularly her observations of people and places – of interactions, feelings, and memories – are gems in the story, and one of the strengths of the collection. Her stories show you don’t need to use a lot of words to convey something beautiful or poignant. There is a strong personal undertone to the book, like we’re getting a strong sense of Else not just as a writer but as a person.

Each story explores elements of humanity and what it means to be alive, even when the world is ending – ie. even during times of disaster, we can still feel love and connection, nurture, all the while experiencing heightened levels of grief, heartache, and loss.

I also freakin’ love the cover of this book – the colours and the tone, as well as the title, make for a really beautiful addition to the bookshelf.

“His voice is tender but careful. Before the phone call to tell him what had happened, and to ask if we could come, we hadn’t spoken in a long while. My body trembles, the horror of the past few weeks seeping over the walls I’ve built inside me.”

With each story moving forward in time, we experience the haunting progression of climate degradation and the ramifications of a changing world, sometimes through the smallest of lenses. It’s a clever stylistic technique to keep the reader feeling both unprepared and alarmed as we progress through the future to alternate worlds not overly different to our own.

“The walk down to the town centre only takes ten minutes. It’s midwinter and tourism still hasn’t recovered from the pandemic years, so the place is empty. The pub is closed, but looking over the fence from the street they glimpse a view of the water through the vast beer garden.”

Else’s short story collection is an accessible read for reluctant readers, and perfect for those with only short spans of time to read. With vivid characters and engaging settings, readers will love this book. Readership skews 20+

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

Everything Feels Like the End of the World
Else Fitzgerald
August 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

Joan by Katherine J. Chen

Girl. Warrior. Heretic. Saint?

France is mired in a losing war against England. Its people are starving. Its king is in hiding. Yet out of the chaos, an unlikely heroine emerges.

Reckless, steel-willed and brilliant, Joan has survived a childhood steeped in both joy and violence to claim an extraordinary – and fragile – position at the head of the French army. The battlefield and the royal court are full of dangers and Joan finds herself under suspicion from all sides – as well as under threat from her own ambition.

Katherine J. Chen’s Joan is a feminist reimagining of the life of Joan of Arc – a celebration of her remarkable journey through the ranks, leading France to several victories against the English.

Much is already known about Joan of Arc, subjected to visions of saints from age 13 but then burned at the stake at the age of 19 under scrutiny of being a heretic. In Katherine J. Chen’s version, Joan is less motivated by visions and more motivated by personal loss – one day when the English invade their town, Joan’s sister Catherine is savagely attacked and ends up committing suicide. Joan feels motivated in her quest for revenge on the men who brutalised her sister, and now, without her sister alive, she no longer feels she must stay in her hometown and continue to accept the beatings given to her by her demonising father.

“The circle turns. And the wheel spins back, three days after the fair, to the fists of Jacques d’Arc. This time, Joan is limping not in the direction of Hauviette’s cottage but toward the Bois Chenu. She cannot always seek sanctuary in the same places, and tonight she thinks her father’s mood is foul enough to pursue her.”

Chen uses Joan’s physicality as a way of crafting the character and differentiating her book from retellings that precede it. Joan, hated by her father and regularly beaten, grows to be an alarmingly large teenager who can fight back. She can break a man’s bones with just one hand.

We also come to see her as the skilled, intuitive fighter worthy of a following – she can best archers and sword fighters who have been training their whole lives. In Chen’s version, it’s less about Joan’s sense of religion and her miraculous calling from the saints, and more a portrayal of a woman who earns and maintains attention – someone who works hard and learns fast.

“It was an instant of extraordinary beauty. When he recalls the memory, he can’t help smiling. The leap, so perfect, into his arms, and he, seeing her pursuer, did not stop, had no intention of stopping, and looked as if he might thrash him, too, turned his back to Jacques and sprinted away.”

This retelling does seem to focus so heavily on Joan’s actions and her movements that we seem to lose a sense of her as a human being – I just never felt that I got a glimpse at who this Joan was as a person. Perhaps more inner monologue was required to achieve this, as most of the book seems centred around action and dialogue. I was just craving more of Joan’s voice so she didn’t appear to be one-dimensional.

“The moment panic makes her throat close is the moment she becomes aware of smoke and the smell of incense. A crowd is gathering, and a procession of monks heading her way. Joan sees a large wooden cross, wobbling slightly on the shoulder of its stooped bearer.”

Presenting a portrait much more relatable to the modern reader, Joan is recommended for readers of historical sagas and retellings – fans of Jennifer Saint will be a fitting audience for this one. Fans of Game of Thrones might feel that this Joan of Arc seems to bear resemblance to Brienne of Tarth. Readership skews female, 25+

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

Joan
Katherine J. Chen
July 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

Truly Darkly Deeply by Victoria Selman

Twelve-year-old Sophie and her mother, Amelia-Rose, move to London from Massachusetts where they meet the charismatic Matty Melgren, who quickly becomes an intrinsic part of their lives. But as the relationship between the two adults fractures, a serial killer begins targeting young women with a striking resemblance to Amelia-Rose.

When Matty is eventually sent down for multiple murder, questions remain as to his guilt — questions which ultimately destroy both women. Nearly twenty years later, Sophie receives a letter from Battlemouth Prison informing her Matty is dying and wants to meet. It looks like Sophie might finally get the answers she craves. But will the truth set her free — or bury her deeper?

Victoria Selman’s Truly Darkly Deeply is a psychological thriller about a man convicted of multiple murders, and how the revelation ripples through his family – even twenty years later, as he reaches out to the family on his death bed.

The book regularly switches perspectives between present-day Sophie and a 12-year-old Sophie who is retelling the story of how Matty entered and then later left their lives. For the most part, she refuses to believe a negative word against Matty – he’s the father she never had. But even a 12-year-old has to acknowledge at some point that something doesn’t quite add up with Matty. He’s mysterious, vacant, and disappears for long stretches of time. He seems to always be available, but at the same time seems to be absent during key moments. Selman navigates Sophie’s naivety and innocence rather well in these flashback scenes.

“I knew all about Diana’s dress. I’d been keeping a wedding scrapbook of magazine cut-outs, every detail about the big day stuck in, from how many bridesmaids the soon-to-be princess was having, to the number of beads on her ivory satin shoes. I don’t remember why Matty didn’t watch the ceremony with us.”

Truly Darkly Deeply presents an interesting perspective, focusing on the family members left behind in the wake of a shocking revelation such as murder. Would you recognise if someone in your family was a serial killer? The premise is quite the hook to bring readers in and it actually reminded me a bit of Dirty John.

The pacing and the tension build are two of the strengths in the novel – Sophie’s present-day visit to see Matty does well to anchor the story, and across the course of the book you find yourself really desperate to get to that moment and find out what Matty has to say.

Additionally, I liked that there are a small number of the characters in the book, keeping the atmosphere quite claustrophobic and contained. It means there’s plenty of time in the book dedicated to understanding the dynamic between Sophie and her mother, and then Sophie and Matty.

“I wasn’t keen on spending any more time with the girl than was strictly necessary, but I’d been taught never to turn down an apology. So I thanked her and accepted her invitation graciously.”

There were a few elements of the novel that I felt could’ve been tightened – it wasn’t always clear when we were in the past or the present, so it would’ve been helpful and would’ve saved a lot of confusion if each chapter perhaps had the year dated underneath it, or even said PAST or PRESENT.

A lot of the novel is tied to this idea that Matty might not have actually been the killer, but it seems pretty clear from the beginning of the novel and so the concept of ‘is he guilty’ doesn’t really hold the value it’s intended to. And finally, Sophie’s character progression hits a bit of a snag for me towards the end. For most of the novel, she is completely against the idea that Matty could be a bad person – she is so happy he’s in her life that it’s understandably clouding her judgement. However, when she does change her mind on this, it’s too quick a decision and the thought process behind it doesn’t seem present. Suddenly, she’s changed her mind and she’s trying to convince her mother he’s a bad guy. It’s rather jarring for the reader.

“By the time we listened to his answerphone message, something in my mother had disappeared too. The despair that had plagued those first weeks of his absence had gradually eased and in its place came a sort of acceptance.”

Despite its flaws, this is a rather gripping novel and I did find myself reading it in two sittings. The premise is intriguing and compelling and regardless of its holes, readers will enjoy the journey. Recommended for readers of psychological thrillers – great for book club reads, as I think the twist at the end of the book would spark much debate. Readership skews 25+

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

Truly Darkly Deeply
Victoria Selman
July 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

The Night Ship by Jess Kidd

ONE SHIPWRECK.
TWO MISFITS.
THREE CENTURIES APART.

1629. Embarking on a journey in search of her father, a young girl called Mayken boards the Batavia, the most impressive sea vessel of the age. During the long voyage, this curious and resourceful child must find her place in the ship’s stratified world. She soon uncovers shadowy secrets above and below deck and as tensions spiral, the fate of the ship and all on board becomes increasingly uncertain.

1989. Gil, a boy mourning the death of his mother, is placed in the care of his cranky grandfather. Their home is a shack on a tiny fishing island off the West Australian coast, notable only for its reefs and wrecked boats. This is no place for a boy struggling with a dark past, and Gil’s actions soon get him noticed by the wrong people.

Capturing dual timelines, Jess Kidd’s fourth novel The Night Ship reimagines the true story of an Indian Ocean shipwreck in the early 1600s. The Batavia, a Dutch East India Company’s flagship vessel, wrecked off the coast of Western Australia and three-hundred surviving passengers were stranded on a nearby island. Soon, merchants staged a mutiny and began killing off most of the survivors – they imprisoned the rest and by the time help came, over half the survivors were dead.

The Night Ship’s first timeline, set in 1628, follows nine-year-old Mayken on a voyage to find her father. She is accompanied by her nursemaid Imke, who falls ill relatively early into the journey. Mayken, in her naivety, is convinced that Imke’s sickness is caused by an eel-like monster from mythic legend; Mayken journeys throughout the Batavia in search of the creature, trying desperately to save Imke’s life.

The other timeline is more than three centuries later in 1989, where we meet the lost and lonely Gil. His mother has just passed and he’s now living on a remote island with his grandmother. That island happens to be the one that Mayken and her fellow survivors were shipwrecked on when the Batavia fell, and Gil finds himself fascinated by the history of the island.

“By the bottom of the ladder, the heat and the stink overwhelm Mayken: cow dung and something acrid and tarry. A hot stench that suffocates like a grip over the nose and mouth. Mayken breathes as best she can, ignoring the panic rising inside her. It is even darker here than on the gun deck.”

Mayken is highly perceptive and driven to exploring outside of her comfort zone – she dons disguises to venture down to the ship beneath, meeting all sorts of characters who take refuge in the vessel. I did find her storyline to be more interesting than Gil’s largely because tension was building ahead of the shipwreck and knowing the mutiny was ahead proved exciting.

Jess Kidd has quite a mastery with prose, and the balance of description and dialogue – she captures that inquisitive nature of children very well, as well as that lonely, lost feeling when a child craves a parent. Both Mayken and Gil share a sense of independence, Mayken because she already possesses it, and Gil because he’s been thrust into a position where he’s forced to find his own way.

Whilst Mayken’s journey to find and capture this eel-like monster fell to the wayside later in the book, it did add an element of magic realism to the story – an out-of-this-world sense of folklore that I quite enjoy in literature. Some reviewers noticeably felt it didn’t hold the significance or reflection it needed in the book, but without it I feel the pacing on Mayken’s journey would’ve lapsed and it wouldn’t been a slow journey to the shipwreck.

“He takes the scrubby path down the centre of the island. The sky is white-blue and the light beats up off the coral shards. Gil doesn’t want company but wouldn’t mind knowing that living, breathing people are nearby. He’ll go and watch the scientists.”

Towards the end of the book, when tensions on the island are starting to rise, the constant switch in POV was rather jarring. I’d be invested in the mutiny on the island, the murders, the direction of that story, but too often we’d be forced back into Gil’s story and the balance between these two perspectives felt a little off.

Admittedly, there was also capacity for greater exploration into the ‘villains’ of the story – so much bloodshed on that island and yet, not much insight into why that might’ve been. The mutineers felt too clear-cut, not enough depth to them to understand a bit more about their motives.

“It’s dark, they’ve sat at the table that long. Like they do in Italy, says Silvia. Eating, talking, except she’s the only one doing the talking. Gil picks at the burnt cheese on the cannelloni dish. Silvia knocks back the sherry. She sways when she gets up to butter more bread.”

Fierce and haunting, Jess Kidd’s The Night Ship is recommended for readers of literary fiction and historical sagas. Readership skews 25+

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

The Night Ship
Jess Kidd
July 2022
Penguin Random House Publishers

Reward System by Jem Calder

Julia has landed a fresh start – at a ‘pan-European’ restaurant.
‘Imagine that,’ says her mother.
‘I’m imagining.’

Nick is flirting with sobriety and nobody else. Did you know: adults his age are now more likely to live with their parents than a romantic partner?

Life should have started to take shape by now – but instead we’re trying on new versions of ourselves, swiping left and right, and searching for a convincing answer to that question: ‘What do you do?’

A compact set of contemporary short fiction, Jem Calder’s Reward System explores the millennial experience, modern life, getting older, and trying to solidify what it is we want from our jobs.

Reward System is six short stories, each varied in length and containing an assortment of characters who make an appearance across different stories – characters move in and out of stories almost like adult friends do. Jem has a rather skilled ability to capture the micro, minute details of everyday interactions – implied meaning, concealed desire, for example. Dialogue is quite bare but conveys all that it needs to.

“Because she knew her mother didn’t have many people to talk to her in life and that Wednesdays marked the remotest point of interspace between her Sunday fellowships at St Mike’s, Julia made it a midweek habit to FaceTime with her during the breaks that divided her split shifts at the kitchen.”

Each short story is broken up further into scenes and shorter snippets, allowing for somewhat of a staccato reading experience. It feels like what we’re experiencing of these characters is just a very tiny glimpse into a much wider story, and so it leaves you wanting more.

My favourite story is the first one – A Restaurant Somewhere Else – which also happens to be the longest one (107 pages). It certainly feels like the most fully-developed story, with a slower build and comprehensive character reactions. It is also a rather quirky and enticing setting, Julia being a sous chef at a rather up-market restaurant, surrounded by quite a large suite of eccentric characters to keep the story anchored and to maintain momentum.

“Pretty celibate this whole past year, actually. With only a wall separating her from Margot and only a global cellular-network connection separating Margot from her older sister…Julia had been too sound-and-space-conscious to bring any boys back to the apartment since moving in.”

Whilst I did find a couple of the stories a little dry and slow, and I did skim read over some paragraphs that I found a little monotonous, Jem will find loyal readers in those who appreciate short story collections. The package itself is gorgeous – hardback, smaller in size, with bold colours of orange, green and blue.

“Walking home, he said he was still hungry, and when they got back to his apartment, she baked two peaches and watched as he ate them both with ice cream. He was maybe the most unselfconscious eater she had ever seen, perhaps also the greediest.”

Observant and insightful, Jem Calder’s Reward System is recommended for readers of short fiction, novellas, and literary fiction. Readership skews 30+

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

Reward System
Jem Calder
July 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers