JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

Notes On An Execution by Danya Kukafka

Ansel Packer is scheduled to die in twelve hours.

He knows what he’s done, and now awaits the same fate he forced on those girls, years ago. Ansel doesn’t want to die; he wants to be celebrated, understood.

But this is not his story.

As the clock ticks down, three women uncover the history of a tragedy and the long shadow it casts. Lavender, Ansel’s mother, is a seventeen-year-old girl pushed to desperation. Hazel, twin sister to his wife, is forced to watch helplessly as the relationship threatens to devour them all. And Saffy, the detective hot on his trail, is devoted to bringing bad men to justice but struggling to see her own life clearly.

This is the story of the women left behind.

Blending breathtaking suspense with astonishing empathy, Notes On An Execution presents a chilling portrait of womanhood as it unravels the familiar narrative of the American serial killer, interrogating our cultural obsession with crime stories, and asking readers to consider the false promise of looking for meaning in the minds of violent men.

Danya Kukafka’s Notes On An Execution offers a reprieve from the stereotypical ‘serial killer’ novel. We meet Ansel Packer in a Texan prison on the day he is scheduled to be executed for murdering multiple women. There is no doubt that he’s the murderer — he’s confessed to it, he acknowledges it. But who did he hurt and how did events unfold?

To fully understand this, we meet three women whose lives interacted with Ansel’s at titular moments in his life. The story toggles between multiple storylines, traversing different points of view and moving between the past and the present. As someone who devours serial killer stories, I found this book to be an incredible read.

“That night, Lavender slept sitting up in the storage room, an iron paper towel rod clutched in her hand like a gun. She found it when she reached for her sweater — a cold lump in the breast pocket. It was the locket she’d given to Ansel, curled up regretful. She’d unclasped it from his neck the last time she’d given him a bath and pocketed it thoughtlessly.”

Danya’s writing is beautiful —poetic and addictive. Her characterisation is skilled and flawless. It’s rare for me to give such glowing praise for a novel but I really did love this one (I completed it in half a day, I was so desperate to finish).

We are driven forward by Ansel’s inevitable death — the countdown to his execution. These other stories, offered intermittently and almost chaotically, are a glimpse into the past.

The three women we meet in this novel are Lavender, Ansel’s mother, Hazel, the sister to Ansel’s wife, and Saffy, the detective who lived with Ansel in foster care and is now tasked with proving he’s responsible for the murders. Each shift in POV isn’t for very long, and we move through the past with quick pacing and little time to reflect. This novel is designed to paint a portrait of Ansel’s life to dates so that we might come to understand his rocky descent into murder.

“If there was a before, it began with Lavender. She was seventeen years old. She knew what it meant, to bring life into the world. The gravity. She knew that love could swaddle you tight, and also bruise. But until the time came, Lavender did not understand what it meant to walk away from a thing she’d grown from her own insides.”

Ansel’s chapters are written in second person — the confronting ‘you’ triggering a sense of dread and unease as the reader settles into Ansel’s story. Whilst we never feel like we understand him or his actions, his life and his story is the centrefold of this tale — everything else merely revolves around him as we are propelled towards his death.

Overall, the pacing and character development drew me in and kept my engaged throughout the entire novel. i did find the climax of the novel to be a little skimmed over — Ansel’s sudden deterioration into the final murder didn’t feel natural or realisitc. But when it comes to murder, and even multiple murders, a person’s actions don’t always make sense do they?

“Here is what you remember of your mother. She is tall, and she is mostly hair. She crouches in a garden, lazes in a rocking chair, sinks into a rusty claw-foot tub. Sometimes the tub is filled with water and your mother’s long dress floats wet like a jellyfish. Other times she is dry — she holds out a strand of her own hair, a gift, glistening orange.”

Haunting and ambitious but addictive, Danya Kukafka ’s Notes On An Execution is recommended for readers of literary fiction, thriller and crime fiction. Additionally, readers looking for serial killer stories or female-centric writing will enjoy this. Readership skews 25+

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

Notes On An Execution
Danya Kukafka
January 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

Olga Dies Dreaming by Xochitl Gonzalez

It’s 2017, and Olga and her brother, Pedro ‘Prieto’ Acevedo, are bold-faced names in their hometown of New York. Prieto is a popular congressman representing their gentrifying, Latinx neighborhood in Brooklyn, while Olga is the tony wedding planner for Manhattan’s power brokers.

Despite their alluring public lives, behind closed doors things are far less rosy. Sure, Olga can orchestrate the love stories of the one percent, but she can’t seem to find her own . . . until she meets Matteo, who forces her to confront the effects of long-held family secrets.

Twenty-seven years ago, their mother, Blanca, a Young Lord-turned-radical, abandoned her children to advance a militant political cause, leaving them to be raised by their grandmother. Now, with the winds of hurricane season, Blanca has come barreling back into their lives.

Set against the backdrop of New York City in the months surrounding the most devastating hurricane in Puerto Rico’s history, Olga Dies Dreaming is a story that examines political corruption, familial strife and the very notion of the American dream – all while asking what it really means to weather a storm.

Xochitl Gonzalez’s Olga Dies Dreaming is a revolutionary, multi-generational tale about family, race, identity and politics. Two Puerto-Rican siblings living in gentrified Brooklyn are grappling with their responsibility to their mother — a radical activist who abandoned the family when protagonist Olga was twelve years old. She is now thirty-nine and her mother is a fugitive fighting for Puerto Rican independence, meanwhile manipulating her two children in a series of letters scattered throughout the novel.

Olga Dies Dreaming is a pointed commentary about American society and politics — about race and poverty, and how societal structures within America ensure that the poor stay poor, and the wealthy only gain more power. Whilst some of the political aspects of the novel may go over readers’ heads, the carefully crafted plotting and pacing still allows for an enjoyable read.

“Sometimes, when he contemplated the direction of his life, he felt his wounds were self-inflicted. He ran for office because everyone ignored his neighbourhood…these days, all eyes were on Sunset Park, and it was he, Prieto, who had put them there. For better and for worse.”

At their core, Olga and her brother Prieto are trying to prove that they’re more capable than what others believe. Olga is a savvy wedding planner, successful but depressed. Prieto may be a popular U.S congressman but he is hiding in the closet and is being blackmailed by high-powered real estate moguls. Both siblings are grappling with the trajectory of their lives.

Set mainly in the Summer of 2017, Xochitl’s writing is slick and omniscient — she’s an incredibly talented writer and this is an equally impressive debut. Her writing is observant and conveys layered emotion. Chapters end with open-ended dialogue or observations, allowing deeper character observation for the reader.

“He didn’t, in fact, agree with that assessment; he sometimes felt Olga underestimated him. When it came to business at least, Dick always saw the dark sides of things, but his gift, he felt, was for sensing the opportunities that often lie in wait.”

The pacing does differ across the course of the novel and the middle third of the book in particular feels painfully slow. The final part of the novel, once the hurricane hits, holds a much more consistent and engaging flow.

Readers who aren’t overly invested in literary fiction, nor interested in a novel that provides commentary on the American sociopolitical environment, admittedly might find their interests lulling throughout the story.

“Close up, Olga could see that Matteo was quite handsome underneath his scruffy semi-beard. He had a splattering of freckles and the kind light brown eyes that Olga used to call Coca-Cola coloured when she was a kid.”

Pointed, punchy and purposeful, Olga Dies Dreaming is recommended for literary readers. Readership skews 30+

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

Olga Dies Dreaming
Xochitl Gonzalez
January 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

The Secrets of Bridgewater Bay by Julie Brooks

England, 1919: Rose and Ivy board a ship bound for Australia. One is travelling there to marry a man she has never met. One is destined never to arrive.

Australia, 2016: Amongst her late-grandmother’s possessions, Molly uncovers a photograph of two girls dressed in First World War nurses’ uniforms, labelled ‘Rose and Ivy 1917’, and a letter from her grandmother, asking her to find out what happened to her own mother, Rose, who disappeared in the 1960s.

Compelled to carry out her grandmother’s last wish, Molly embarks on a journey to England to unravel the mystery of the two girls whose photograph promised they’d be ‘together forever’…

Julie Brooks’ The Secrets of Bridgewater Bay is a dual-timeline historical fiction debut, transporting readers from WWI England to present day Australia. Centred around two young women — friends for a decade but bound together by a shocking secret — who set sail for a new life in Australia.

In present day, Australian woman Molly is searching for the truth behind her great-grandmother’s disappearance over fifty years earlier. Not a lot is known about the reclusive and camera-shy Rose, and Molly travels to England to find out more about Rose’s upbringing, in the hope it may come to understand what really happened to her.

“For months she had imagined that Ivy, like Rose, had migrated to Australia and begun a new life. She had envisaged her as the matriarch of a clan with a long, fruitful life. For whatever reason, Rose’s life had turned sour; she hoped that her friend’s had worked out happier.”

Julie Brooks captures the friendship between Ivy and Rose incredibly well — their initial close bond and the idea that they’ll be best friends forever. But, over time, Rose starts to inhabit the role expected of her — the privileged, wealthy young woman on the cusp of taking her place in society. Perhaps without realising, she starts to treat Ivy like a servant not like a friend, and bitter tension builds between them. As secrets come to light, the friendship soon deteriorates.

As someone who reads a lot of historical fiction, I found this novel incredibly refreshing. A mystery about a great-grandmother (not a grandmother) offers something a little different to the genre. That extra generation accounts for limited knowledge about that character, forcing a deeper dig into their life to find out the truth. It also means the connection between Molly and Rose is limited, given the age difference, so the story doesn’t rely on memories or emotional connection between the characters and more on facts and evidence, which provides a more thrilling, fast-paced story.

“But Rose knew that Ivy did indeed care. She always cared what her da would do, because he had a history of doing unpleasant things. Rose couldn’t remember her own father, but she couldn’t imagine him taking to her with a willow stick or shutting her in the coal box for an afternoon.”

Class plays an important role in this novel — whilst Rose is from a wealthy, privileged family, her best friend Ivy comes from a poor, abusive household. No one expects her to secure a comfortable life, so Ivy has to believe in herself if she’s going to rise above her surroundings. She refuses to be a servant or maid for the rest of her life, and is looking for a way to carve a respectable path for herself.

The only fault I can give this novel is the prevalence of perhaps a few too many signs that point towards the twist. Molly’s memories of Rose — her personality and her hatred of being in photographs, in particular — made it a little too easy to guess the ending of the novel. But apart from that, this is one of my favourite historical fiction reads from the past 12 months.

“Molly woke breathless, struggling to escape the undertow of her dream. Plunging her face into the pillow, she tried to vanquish the lingering images. Yet in the blackness her father was there, along with the ghostly form of the long-dead Rose, drifting before her eyes.”

A rich, sweeping tale of betrayal, and how long-held family secrets can tear apart even the strongest of friendships. Recommended for historical fiction readers, The Secrets of Bridgewater Bay is skewed towards female readers, 25+

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

The Secrets of Bridgewater Bay
Julie Brooks
January 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

Lily by Rose Tremain

Nobody knows yet that she is a murderer…

Abandoned at the gates of a London park one winter’s night in 1850, baby Lily Mortimer is saved by a young police constable and taken to the London Foundling Hospital. Lily is fostered by an affectionate farming family in rural Suffolk, enjoying a brief childhood idyll before she is returned to the Hospital, where she is punished for her rebellious spirit. Released into the harsh world of Victorian London, Lily becomes a favoured employee at Belle Prettywood’s Wig Emporium, but all the while she is hiding a dreadful secret…

Across the years, policeman Sam Trench keeps watch over the young woman he once saved. When Sam meets Lily again, there is an instant attraction between them and Lily is convinced that Sam holds the key to her happiness – but might he also be the one to uncover her crime and so condemn her to death?

Set in 1850s and 1860s Victorian London, Rose Tremain’s 16th novel Lily is a revenge tale exploring rejection, poverty, guilt and redemption.

As a baby, Lily Mortimer is abandoned on a cold London evening at the gates of a park. Discovered by a patrolling police constable, she is taken to the London Foundling Hospital. Despite spending the first six years of her life in a loving foster home, she is returned to the hospital for the remainder of her childhood and is subjected to years of abuse that charts her path towards murder.

“She dreams of her death. It comes as a cold October dawn is breaking in the London sky. A sack is put over her head. Through the weave of the burlap, she can take her last look at the world, which is a cluster of tiny squares of grey light, and she thinks whyever did I struggle so long and so hard to make my way in a place which was bent on my destruction ever since I came into it?”

Lily is a relatively short novel, written in third person and moving between past and present seamlessly. I rather enjoyed reading about Lily’s upbringing in the foster home, and then again when she’s older and attempting to come to terms with her recent murderous act. Despite being offered shelter and family, Lily does venture out on her own to make her own way, highlighting how independent she’s grown since the time she was a terrified six-year-old attempting to run away from the hospital.

Despite being a rather bleak tale, there are bright moments. It may be short-lived, but Lily’s friendship with Bridget in the foundling hospital is really wholesome, and so is her relationship with her foster mother. When she’s older, Lily’s friendship with her employer Belle is supportive and it offers Lily opportunities she never would’ve had available to her.

“She thought of the downward threads as soldiers standing in a perfect line and the taut loops joining them along the edge of the fabric as their arms reaching out and reaching out to one another, to give themselves courage, until the line was ended.”

Admittedly, the build-up to the murder feels a bit slim, as is the confession and subsequent conclusion of the novel. The abuse that Lily suffered isn’t overly present in the novel, so it feels like an afterthought at times. As such, this novel felt more like an exploration into her life, rather than her murderous act, because we spend so much time just setting up Lily’s story.

Whilst I genuinely did enjoy reading this novel, it did feel a little muddled at times — like even the author wasn’t sure what kind of book she wanted to write. Is she exploring the story of a poor orphan in Victorian London? Is she exploring the story of how someone becomes a murderer? Or perhaps tries to get away with it? Or is this also a story of a young orphan girl trying to find her mother, because that was a momentary thread in this novel that wasn’t really fleshed out or resolved.

“A ‘good’ life. How can you live a good life if you have been precious to nobody and made to feel burdened by shame? How can your heart not be vengeful?”

An atmospheric setting with rich, compelling characters, Lily is recommended for readers of historical fiction and period fiction. Readership skews female, 25+

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

Lily: A Tale of Revenge
Rose Tremain
November 2021
Penguin Random House Publishers

The Freedom of Birds by Stephanie Parkyn

Remi Victoire is the golden child among all the theatre orphans; he dreams of a life on a Paris stage. But when this future is stolen from him, Remi and his faithful friend Pascal turn their backs on Paris forever.

With Saskia, a runaway orphan girl, Remi and Pascal form a performing troupe, travelling through the fairytale lands that are home to the Brothers Grimm, before finding a safe haven in Venice.

As Napoleon’s vast Empire crumbles, the French storytellers discover that Paris itself is now at risk of invasion and they fear for the loved ones they have left behind.

From picturesque villages to Italian theatres and on to the battlefields outside of Paris, this is a beautifully told story about the bonds of love and friendship, the importance of stories, and finding a place to belong.

Set in Europe in the early 1800s, Stephanie Parkyn’s The Freedom of Birds is historical fiction centring around a trio of orphan children who band together to form a performing troupe. From France to Italy, and the battlefields in between, Saskia, Remi and Pascal must learn to survive on their own.

The Freedom of Birds brings disadvantaged and marginalised characters to the forefront. There’s an element of fairytales and folklore running as an undercurrent to the novel, which makes it feel oddly comforting and reassuring at a time like this.

I’ve since realised there is some connection between this book and Stephanie’s previous two works — luckily, you don’t need to read her first two books to follow this one, although I’m sure it’d help provide additional context to the historical setting.

“Did they wonder, the townsfolk, how Father had come to possess her? Had they questioned her sudden arrival to that desolate church? No doubt he had spun a convincing story. Perhaps he told them he had rescued her from wickedness and vice and delivered her into the lap of God.”

Strengths lie in the research and political turmoil captured in the book. Whilst a lot of the events happening in that time period — particularly those related to war — went straight over my head and waned my interest, I appreciate how much work has gone into writing this book and I acknowledge there’ll be a loyal readership who will find themselves in love with the time period and the setting of the book.

From the battlefields to the tension, to the hatred for their unjust treatment, The Freedom of Birds transports you to another time and allows you to feel completely enveloped in the early 1800s. Each of the core characters are unique in their journey and their role within the story — each are fighting battles both in their minds and their environments. Their journeys in the book reflect their pursuit for the truth, and for the family they’ve never known.

“The smell of hay, manure, piss — I woke with it filling my nose and mouth, face down and chewing on the stable scrapings. I rolled over slowly, not wanting to move my head, feeling the hammers strike anvils behind my eyes. I prised an eyelid open.”

There were a couple of things that I didn’t love about the book, and the main one was the perspective shift. We move between Saskia, Remi and Pascal, but two of these voices are in third person and one is in first person. I found this incredibly jolting and sometimes I got confused about which perspective we were now in. I wonder why the author wrote it like this, instead of writing all three of them in third person and perhaps including a header at the beginning of each chapter with their name, so we immediately knew who we were following.

And secondly, I struggled with the pacing of the novel. It’s very slow. Too slow. Events didn’t seem to hold the magnitude they needed for historical fiction. So, whilst plotting was present and things did happen, they never seemed to be building towards enough of a climax to keep a reader hooked.

“Hunger gripped Pascal’s stomach like a dog that would not relinquish a stick. It gnawed at him. He felt each bite like a sudden cramp. Hunger hurt. He was tired of the ache.”

Recommended for historical fiction readers. Readership skews female, 35+

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

The Freedom of Birds
Stephanie Parkyn
December 2021
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers