JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske

Young baronet Robin Blyth thought he was taking up a minor governmental post. However, he’s actually been appointed parliamentary liaison to a secret magical society. If it weren’t for this administrative error, he’d never have discovered the incredible magic underlying his world.

Cursed by mysterious attackers and plagued by visions, Robin becomes determined to drag answers from his missing predecessor – but he’ll need the help of Edwin Courcey, his hostile magical-society counterpart. Unwillingly thrown together, Robin and Edwin will discover a plot that threatens every magician in the British Isles.

Freya Marske’s debut novel A Marvellous Light is both fantasy and queer romance, set in early 1900s Edwardian England. The confident — but slightly clueless — Robin Blyth finds himself thrust into the hidden world of magic and the victim of a curse he can’t control.

Readers will enjoy the premise of the novel, the integration of magical realism throughout the story, and the leading characters Robin and Edwin. Both these men are grappling with the situation before them — Robin, determined but ultimately in over his head, and Edwin, unfortunately plagued with meagre magic and constantly tormented by his siblings.

Notably, this is the first book in a planned series, and Freya does leave much to be answered. There is enough world-building in this as the first book, but still much to be explored in sequels.

“Robin’s second impression was that Lord Hawthorn had also been visited by disruptive thieves during the night, because the room into which they were led was a morass of belongings strewn over every surface.”

Family dynamics is a strong element in this story — how Robin and Edwin both interact with family amidst society. I can’t quite explain it, but this book feels suited to seasoned readers — those who know exactly what they’re looking for in a novel. Those who love genre fiction and romance, and unsuspecting characters thrust into an alternate world that they’re ill-prepared for. Personally, I found the opening of the novel quite slow and impenetrable, but admittedly it got better as it went on.

When Robin is attacked by thugs and finds himself cursed, he must work together with Edwin to end the curse and find the object these thugs are so desperate to uncover. Stylistically, Freya writes in third person but moves back and forth between Robin and Edwin’s POV. Freya’s writing is sharp and succinct — her description allows for emotional and depth, without being fluffy or over-the-top.

“Edwin settled himself back against the leather of the seat. It was real. The rattle of the window in its frame was real. Robert Blyth was not exactly imaginary — no, he was too solid, too broad-shouldered, his voice too loud and too warm: the voice of someone who’d never had cause to make himself smaller.”

Admittedly, I felt that the blend of magical realism and romance was not seamlessly executed. Moments of romantic tension seemed so far removed from the plot lines that the core mystery of the novel seemed forgotten. There’s a sequence of sex scenes in the middle of the novel that didn’t feel easily embedded — the rest of the novel centres entirely around the mystery element that I felt quite surprised to find sex scenes in the novel at all. Whilst they were sensual, and I’m sure they’ll be appreciated by some readers, I’m not sure they fit easily into this book where they are.

“Excitement crawled over Robin’s scalp. He didn’t think Courcey actually meant him any harm; the man was far too prickly. If he’d been trying for charm Robin might have been worried.”

Recommended for readers of fantasy romance, and perhaps magical realism. I wouldn’t recommend this book to reluctant readers. Readership skews female, 25+

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

A Marvellous Light
Freya Marske
November 2021
Pan Macmillan Publishers

Devotion by Hannah Kent

Prussia, 1836
Hanne Nussbaum is a child of nature – she would rather run wild in the forest than conform to the limitations of womanhood. In her village of Kay, Hanne is friendless and considered an oddity . . . until she meets Thea.

Ocean, 1838
The Nussbaums are Old Lutherans, bound by God’s law and at odds with their King’s order for reform. Forced to flee religious persecution the families of Kay board a crowded, disease-riddled ship bound for the new colony of South Australia. In the face of brutal hardship, the beauty of whale song enters Hanne’s heart, along with the miracle of her love for Thea. Theirs is a bond that nothing can break.

South Australia, 1838
A new start in an old land. God, society and nature itself decree Hanne and Thea cannot be together. But within the impossible . . . is devotion.

Hannah Kent’s third novel Devotion centres around a Lutheran family in Prussia who flee religious persecution, boarding a vessel to South Australia. A queer love story set in the early-to-mid 1800s, our main character Hanne is considered an eccentric but odd girl – she doesn’t conform to what’s expected of her. And when she meets young neighbour Thea, the two form more than just friendship. Whilst there’s heartache in this novel, there’s also hope and optimism.

Separated into two distinct eras, the novel follows Hanne and Thea not only as they leave their hometown and venture afar with their villagers, but the novel also follow them as they come to understand what it means to love and be loved.

“The wind blew us to the forest. Hand in hand, skirts buffeted against our legs, hair stinging out into the air above, we let ourselves be carried to the only cathedral we had known together. As soon as we stepped through the shield of pines, into their soft shadow and quiet green, I felt the holy in the air.”

Devotion is structed around tragedy – before and after. Whilst we’re not quite prepared for the tragedy when it arrives, Hannah expertly weaves us through the journey as we lead up to it and also as we grasp the aftermath on the other side.

A significant portion of the novel takes place on the ship to Australia, a harrowing journey that takes six months and leaves many dead and unwell. The boat is not crafted for that many guests, and the food is scarce. When sickness takes hold in the ship, it ravages through the population.

The pacing is deliberately slow, taking the time to build tension and companionship between Hanne and Thea. Hannah’s description and writing style are her biggest strengths; she carves incredibly beautiful sentences that evoke imagery and emotion. She can capture connections between characters with the fewest of words.

“Night is unfurling herself now. The wind has picked up and clouds have blown in over the rising moon. It is growing dark. Through the trees I can make out lights winking across the valley floor. I imagine that I alone remain outside at this hour. Everyone must be at their dinners or prayers now.”

Admittedly, the final third of the novel – as the ship nears South Australia, and then as the village settles on their new land – was my least favourite section. Hannah dabbles in supernatural elements that felt quite removed from the initial tone of the novel. The voyeurism felt too removed from the original story, and the characters too disjointed for the love story to feel authentic anymore. Sometimes the perspective didn’t feel quite as concrete and I got confused whose story we were witnessing.

I suspect this part of the novel will be divisive for readers, particularly given how unexpected the shift felt. Regardless, at that point in the novel you’re so invested in the characters I suspect all readers will venture on.

“It has been a long time since I held a Bible. Scripture I once knew by heart has become adultered with my own words so that it speaks to a truth I know more keenly. But if I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of my family’s black book in my hands.”

Intricate, wholesome, lyrical and crafted elegantly, Devotion is recommended for literary readers. Readership skews female, 25+

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

Devotion
Hannah Kent
November 2021
Pan Macmillan Publishers

Scary Monsters by Michelle De Kretser

When my family emigrated it felt as if we’d been stood on our heads.

Lili’s family migrated to Australia from Asia when she was a teenager. Now, in the 1980s, she’s teaching in the south of France. She makes friends, observes the treatment handed out to North African immigrants and is creeped out by her downstairs neighbour. All the while, Lili is striving to be A Bold, Intelligent Woman like Simone de Beauvoir.

Lyle works for a sinister government department in near-future Australia. An Asian migrant, he fears repatriation and embraces ‘Australian values’. He’s also preoccupied by his ambitious wife, his wayward children and his strong-minded elderly mother. Islam has been banned in the country, the air is smoky from a Permanent Fire Zone, and one pandemic has already run its course.

Three scary monsters – racism, misogyny and ageism – roam through this novel. Its reversible format enacts the disorientation that migrants experience when changing countries changes the story of their lives. Which comes first, the future or the past?

Australian writer Michelle De Kretser returns with her seventh novel Scary Monsters, a tale of two stories – two characters – and an undercurrent of themes including racism, misogyny and ageism.

Scary Monsters is creative in its execution. With two 150-page novellas inside, you can start from either end. Both covers of the book are beautiful, and each side of the book offers something completely original. Whilst you may notice a couple of threads between the stories, they do function alone.

“Returning from Paris, as the train pulled into Montpellier, I thought back to the trip going the other way. Then the train had deposited me in a city of silvery light, mist and frozen white skies – it was like being delivered into a pearl. Montpellier was a sapphire, a cold, glitzy blue.”

Strengths lie in Michelle’s writing and observations – her ability to convey meaning with the fewest of words, and how evocatively she conveys imagery and setting. She really is quite architectural as a writer. And I loved that each story was only 150 words, with each one of them quite neat and contained.

“When it grew dark and the shutters were closed, lamps turned the rooms tender and mysterious. They were set in an enfilade, so people walked through them in a straight line – it made casual movement look ceremonial.”

Admittedly, I’m not the desired audience for this novel. I wanted to love it – I went into it wanting to devour it. But truthfully, I struggled a lot and I had to push myself to finish the book. Whilst Michelle’s writing is beautiful and she’s so skilled at crafting exquisite sentences, her characters felt so dry and unlikable to me – so bland – and the dialogue felt void of emotion. The pacing also felt really stagnant, with little momentum.

Browsing reviews of this title and it’s clear that Michelle has found a loyal following with this title, so I’m sure this is just my own personal experience. I’ll take this as one of those times where I’m just not the right fit for the book. I’m told this is quite a divergence from her other works, so perhaps I started with the wrong novel and should go back to an earlier release.

“Ivy was holding a white handkerchief embroidered with white flowers. As Bram talker to her, she touched it to the corner of her mouth. It hit me as nothing else had done: I was going to lose Ivy.”

Stark and distinct in its execution, Scary Monsters is recommended for devout literary readers. This is not the kind of book to gift a reluctant reader, or someone drawn to plot-driven stories. Readership skews female, 30+

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

Scary Monsters
Michelle De Kretser
October 2021
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

If I Had Your Face by Frances Cha

If I Had Your Face plunges us into the mesmerizing world of contemporary Seoul – a place where extreme plastic surgery is as routine as getting a haircut, where women compete for spots in secret ‘room salons’ to entertain wealthy businessmen after hours, where K-Pop stars are the object of all-consuming obsession, and ruthless social hierarchies dictate your every move.

Navigating this cut-throat city are four young women balancing on the razor-edge of survival: Kyuri, an exquisitely beautiful woman whose hard-won status at an exclusive ‘room salon’ is threatened by an impulsive mistake with a client; her flatmate Miho, an orphan who wins a scholarship to a prestigious art school in New York, where her life becomes tragically enmeshed with the super-wealthy offspring of the Korean elite; Wonna, their neighbour, pregnant with a child that she and her husband have no idea how they will afford to raise in a fiercely competitive economy; and Ara, a hair stylist living down the hall, whose infatuation with a fresh-faced K-Pop star drives her to violent extremes.

Set in contemporary South Korea but with the atmosphere and tone of a dystopian novel, Frances Cha’s If I Had Your Face explores the price we’d pay for beauty and adoration. In a city where it’s more common to have had surgery than to not, we meet four women struggling against the demands of society. If I Had Your Face explores inequality, poverty, consumerism, classism, wealth and the patriarchy.

If I Had Your Face is reminiscent of Bong Joon Ho’s Parasite, showcasing how hard it is for these characters to progress above their status. And to arise requires much sacrifice.

“But I do have to admit I feel a pinch of pride when someone asks if I have had surgery and I can say no. Our department head has gone so far as to make me promise not to cut my hair, which is really torturously unmanageable now that it hits my waist – MIHO.”

One of the things that I love most about Frances’ work is that you feel as if every scene launches mid-correspondence. You’re thrown straight into the story – the world – even from the beginning. There’s no unnecessary world-building or explanation. There’s no exposition that is plonked into the prose.

And whilst some may argue it’s jolting, like perhaps they don’t they have enough time to ease themselves into each character, I think this stylistic technique allows the novel to really pack a punch. Sitting at around 250 pages, the novel isn’t overly long, and the pacing is quick. We move between four different perspectives and each chapter cuts through time like one leap after another. There’s no time to dawdle in this story.

Admittedly, these characters aren’t supposed to be viewed as heroes of the story. They drink, cheat and deceive each other with what seems like little hesitation. They’re constantly comparing themselves to others, even if the act of doing that won’t achieve anything. If I Had Your Face shows us what society could resemble if our beauty was above all other priorities.

“Up close, I could see that her face was devoid of surgery – her eyes were single-lidded and her nose was flat. I would not have been caught dead walking around with a face like that. But clearly, from the way she walked and held her head, she came from the kind of money that didn’t need any – KYURI.”

Admittedly, the four different perspectives didn’t seem divergent enough to stand out. I found myself having to flick to the blurb quite a bit to remind myself who was who. Did we need all these characters? Wonna felt the weakest to me – the most isolated from the other characters. There was definitely scope to expand the other stories if the author dropped one POV.

Overall, I did feel like there wasn’t much of a storyline in the book. Because we jump between four different characters, and the book isn’t very long, it means we don’t spend a lot of time with each character and so each storyline feels underdeveloped. This is definitely a character-driven story over a plot-driven one.

“My grandmother often got into bitter fights over money. Sometimes it was with a shopkeeper who said she had cheated her, or sometimes it was with her sisters, who looked and talked like her and were just as nasty. Her only brother – the youngest of four siblings – had married a poor girl, and the abuse my grandmother and her sisters heaped upon her over the first few years of their marriage caused them to run away to China – WONNA.”

Punchy and bold, If I Had Your Face is recommended for literary readers. Readership skews female, 25+

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

If I Had Your Face
Frances Cha
July 2021
Penguin Random House Publishers Australia

The Survivors by Alex Schulman

Benjamin sees the shape of his two brothers trying to kill each other. It’s no worthy finale, but perhaps it’s also no surprise. How else had they expected this to end?

Three brothers return to the family cottage by the lake where, more than two decades earlier, a catastrophe changed the course of their lives. Now, they are here to scatter their mother’s ashes.

Benjamin, the middle son, drives the three of them down the old gravel road to the house, through a familiar landscape but also through time. Here they are as boys, tanned legs and hungry eyes, children left to themselves by remote parents; here they are as young men, estranged but bound together by the history that defines them, their lives spent competing for their father’s favour and their mother’s love in a household more like a minefield than a home.

In the intervening years, Benjamin has grown increasingly untethered from reality, frozen in place as life carries on around him. And between the three brothers hums a dangerous current. What really happened that summer day when everything was blown to pieces?

Translated from Swedish, Alex Schulman’s literary novel The Survivors centres around a dysfunctional family reunion between three brothers, congregating at their family lake house decades after a tragedy ripped the family apart.

Written in third person but following the perspective of middle child Benjamin, the novel follows two parallel storylines and moves between past and present – it is both a coming-of-age novel and a reminiscent tale that tackles long buried family secrets. Growing up, their parents don’t seem to hold much concern for their children – the parents are aloof, emotionally manipulative and distanced. Their mother is quite the complex character – easily angered, quick to blame Benjamin, limited emotional expression. The last Summer they spent at the family cabin proved deadly, and the family were never the same again.

“Mom was staring at him from halfway up the stairs. Her open robe, hair on end, pillow creases on her cheek. He couldn’t believe it, it was impossible. How could she suddenly just be there, without any warning at all? It was as if she’d never gone to bed last night, as if she had spent the night on the stairs, sitting there in the darkness and waiting in silence for the dawn, for this moment.”

Benjamin appears to be the most scarred by his childhood, so it makes sense that he’s the pivotal character in this story. Alex Schulman dances around the catastrophic events of their final holiday, circling back to it for moments of introspection and then thrusting us into another moment. It should feel jolting to the reader, but it works well in this context.

Naturally, the ‘present’ storyline doesn’t hold as much tension or anticipation as those chapters set in the past, but it does allow for an in-depth exploration of sibling relationship and familial dynamic. Guilt and repressed memories are running rife in this family, and it isn’t until the end that we come to understand the magnitude of what happened the last time this family went on holiday to their lake cabin.

“Benjamin stands down by the lake with a bouquet of dried buttercups in his hand. His brothers stand beside him. Nils is holding the urn. It’s heavy, and he constantly adjusts his grip on it, an increasingly baffled expression on his face, as if the weight of Mom has taken him by surprise.”

I do wonder if the twist comes too late in the novel. No spoilers, but there’s quite the surprise in the final few pages of the novel and then all of the sudden the book ends. If the twist were to be revealed a bit earlier, I think there would’ve been more capacity to let the reader sit with this news – we would have more time to question everything we’d just read throughout the story. Instead, the novel concludes, and it feels like an abrupt finish.

Additionally, the story itself is quite convoluted and sometimes hard to follow. The present storyline goes back in time, but the past storyline works in linear fashion, and I found myself having to re-read sections because the plot felt rather confusing. And until we hit some of the tense moments between the brothers, the pacing felt quite slow and drawn out.

“Nils shoves the urn with full force at his brother. Pierre isn’t ready for it and it lands on his chest. From the crack, Benjamin knows immediately that something has broken inside Pierre’s body. A rib or his sternum. Benjamin has always been able to see three steps ahead of everyone else.”

Tense and atmospheric, The Survivors is psychological suspense best suited for literary readers. Readership skews female, 25+

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

The Survivors
Alex Schulman
October 2021
Hachette Book Publishers