JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Sweetness of Water by Nathan Harris

In the dying days of the American Civil War, newly freed brothers Landry and Prentiss find themselves cast into the world without a penny to their names. Forced to hide out in the woods near their former Georgia plantation, they’re soon discovered by the land’s owner, George Walker, a man still reeling from the loss of his son in the war.

When the brothers begin to live and work on George’s farm, the tentative bonds of trust and union begin to blossom between the strangers. But this sanctuary survives on a knife’s edge, and it isn’t long before the inhabitants of the nearby town of Old Ox react with fury at the alliances being formed only a few miles away . . .

Set during the Civil War and portraying life after slavery, Nathan Harris’ debut literary novel The Sweetness of Water is an incredible read. I’m so pleased to see that it’s been longlisted for the Man Booker Prize.

The Sweetness of Water takes place during a time of unrest and unease. The American Civil War is almost over and the enslaved are emancipated and allowed freedom, but tensions still run high and racism runs deep. There’s still a lot of resentment among white Southerners, as they struggle to accept that their superiority is slipping away. When the level-headed and moral farmer George Walker employs two former slaves on his property, the local townspeople in Old Ox are reluctant to accept his ways of operating. Characters clash and prejudice reigns. Soon, all lives will change.

“So it began that afternoon. A life of unhappiness that transcended George’s former independence, one of unity. Two lives merged. Her beauty was secondary to the strength of her character, the fortitude in which she housed her beliefs, her way of life, that same stubbornness that he shared himself.”

For a debut, the writing is almost faultless. Prose is stripped back but insightful. Written in third person, the book allows an intimate insight into George and his relationship with wife Isabelle, and their son Caleb. Initially thought to be killed during the Civil War, Caleb returns home unexpectedly, his face deeply scarred.

Exploring complex social problems in a time of great upheaval, Nathan has captured the era with ease. There’s just as much left unsaid and off the page, and there’s much to be admired about how Nathan has captured the three-dimensional, multi-faceted nature of his many cast of characters. Nathan draws together a series of tumultuous events that will attract an array of emotions from its readers – anger, frustration, sadness and concern. I don’t often cry when reading a book, but I cried reading this one.

“Prentiss and Landry arrived back to their camp late enough that the shade of the trees brought goose bumps to their skin. Prentiss had no mind to eat, even with the potatoes in his knapsack that he’d got from the man in the tent. He was hungrier for sleep.”

Nathan possesses a sensitivity and compassion when writing about this time period. There’s something about his prose that feels historical – omniscient and encompassing, but gentle. Dialogue features sparingly, and Nathan lets internal monologue carry a lot of the book. We learn about histories through memories and reflection, as each character realises the lessons they’ve learnt and the trauma they’ve been dealt. Tragedy looms large in this story.

The Sweetness of Water asks the question, what does it really mean to be free?

“They had opened his face with the butt of a rifle. He’d cupped his face with both hands, but no amount of dabbing at the wound could prevent the blood from slipping through his fingers and wetting the ground.”

Poignant, intelligent and expertly written, The Sweetness of Water is for lovers of literature. Literary readers, historical fiction fans. This book reminded me of To Kill A Mockingbird. Readership skews 25+

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

The Sweetness of Water
Nathan Harris
July 2021
Hachette Book Publishers

The Rabbits by Sophie Overett

Winner of the 2020 Penguin Literary Prize.

How do you make sense of the loss of those you love most?

Delia Rabbit has asked herself this question over and over again since the disappearance of her older sister, Bo. Crippled by grief, Delia and her mother became dysfunctional, parting ways not long after Delia turned eighteen.

Now an art teacher at a Queensland college, Delia has managed to build a new life for herself and to create a family of her own. Only more and more that life is slipping: her partner, Ed, has gone, her daughter, Olive, is distancing herself, and, all of a sudden, in the middle of a blinding heatwave, her sixteen-year-old son, Charlie, disappears too.

Suddenly what was buried feels close to the surface, and the Rabbits are faced not only with each other, but also with themselves.

Sophie Overett’s The Rabbits is a multigenerational literary novel interwoven with magical realism. At its core, The Rabbits explores family and loneliness, a loss of connection among loved ones, and reconnecting during times of heartache.

Set over a relative short time period, the story follows the Rabbit family — mother Delia, ex-partner Ed, and their three children Olive, Charlie and Benjamin. One day, Charlie disappears. For Delia, it brings back the painful memories of her childhood when her sister Bo died.

“They’re there within the hour, the blue and red lights flashing through the gap in the curtains, and Olive peers cautiously out her window as two police officers step out of the car…it’s not long before she hears the front door crack open and the police officers step inside, hears their quiet, considered words to Delia, and Delia’s harried response.”

Set in suburban Brisbane, Sophie captures the layers of contemporary family life in Queensland. It’s not just about the steamy, humid weather or school or trauma, it’s about the tense relationship between mother and daughter, the fractured relationship between mother and father, and how when Charlie goes missing, they all slowly come together to process this new family dynamic.

There’s a certain poignancy to this novel — a sensitive caress. This story is more character-driven than plot-driven, and Sophie uses magical realism to peel back the layers of the Rabbits so they can begin to heal. There’s beauty in the unknown here, and going into this novel with no knowledge of how the magical realism will be embedded proves an interesting read indeed. I loved finding out how the story was going to progress, and how elements of the magical were going to be interwoven. Whilst the elements of the unreal are never really explained or resolved, I don’t think they need to be. There’s beauty in what’s left unsaid.

“Her voice is weedy, wiry, like it’s distorted through a line somehow, and Olive can’t help it — the way it drips like petrol into the constant embers of her anger. Her chest suddenly aches, and she wishes she was somewhere else.”

Written in third person, the chapters alternate POV between the different members of the Rabbit family, and sometimes it was a little unclear at first whose story we were in. It could take a minute to determine the transfer of perspective, especially if the scene involved more than one Rabbit.

Other than that, Sophie’s writing is near faultless and the story grips you from the opening chapters. Her writing is seamless and the dialogue realistic. Tender moments between siblings and friends help carry the story forward, and I think this novel will attract a broad audience.

“Delia’s pencil makes quick work on the tracing paper, righting the slant, the scale, the shading that angles the lurching gum trees so strangely. It’s an easy practice. The shadow of an old habit, and out of the corner of her eye she can see the girl watching with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, her throat quivering in embarrassment or admiration, Delia doesn’t really care to know.”

Captivating, rich and beautifully written, The Rabbits is recommended for literary readers. Readership skews female, 25+

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

The Rabbits
Sophie Overett
July 2021
Penguin Random House Publishers

Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Malibu: August, 1983. It’s the day of Nina Riva’s annual end-of-summer party, and anticipation is at a fever pitch. Everyone wants to be around the famous Rivas: Nina, the talented surfer and supermodel; brothers Jay and Hud, one a championship surfer, the other a renowned photographer; and their adored baby sister, Kit. Together, the siblings are a source of fascination in Malibu and the world over-especially as the offspring of the legendary singer, Mick Riva.

By midnight the party will be completely out of control.
By morning, the Riva mansion will have gone up in flames.

But before that first spark in the early hours before dawn, the alcohol will flow, the music will play, and the loves and secrets that shaped this family’s generations will all come bubbling to the surface.

Lifestyle of the rich and the famous! Taylor Jenkins Reid’s literary novel Malibu Rising explores one unforgettable night in the life of a wealthy, famous family, where everyone is forced to confront their mistakes and their secrets. Malibu Rising is a beautiful, delightful and enchanting novel, whisking readers away on an emotional journey through time.

Whilst the story moves back and forth between decades, the main storyline is that of the present — the four children of famous singer-songwriter Mick Riva are planning a Malibu party. The events of the book take place over 24 hours in 1983, where eldest daughter Nina is reeling from a failed marriage and cheating husband.

Sporadic chapters propel us back to 1956, where Nina’s mother, June, meets Mick. He’s not yet famous, and over the course the novel we follow their love story. Despite sharing an instant connection, he is not loyal nor is he a faithful husband. After a string of affairs and disappearances, and June’s descend into alcoholism, suddenly Nina must take on the role of caregiver for her three younger siblings. It’s a role she adopts for most of her adult life.

“Now here he was, nearly a year later, barricaded from his own house. But he’d known from the very moment he punched the mirror that this was looming. Maybe he’d known long before that, too. Maybe he’d always known he couldn’t escape himself.”

Taylor’s writing is inviting and emotional — we grow to love Nina and her siblings, we sympathise for them, we root for them. But June’s story is as tragic as Nina’s. She’s sweet-hearted and full of hope. She has dreams that exceed what her parents expect of her. She wants to do more than just take over her parents’ fish and chip shop — she wants to find love and have children and she wants to be blissfully happy. And when she meets Mick, she naively thinks he’ll give that to her.

Nina and her siblings have bonded over quite tragic of circumstances. Even betrayal is short-lived between them, because they’ve weathered worse during their childhoods. Taylor Jenkins Reid has crafted four young characters who have all been broken by the absence of their father — his rejection of them. Their mother did the best she could, but any success they possess is of their own doing, and they’ve spent their relatively short lives purely trying to survive, and I can imagine it’d be exhausting.

“Nina grew more and more anxious with every second. He could fall off, he could lose the board, he could break his leg or his hand or go under. Nina quietly calculated how she would save him, or what she would say if the owner showed up, how she could handle all of this if it went south.”

The novel centres around an infamous and raucous party, but it’s worth noting the party doesn’t really kick off until at least halfway through the novel. For most of the story, we’re in June’s timeline. By the time the party rolls around, the events of the evening seem a bit squished together in an unnatural, fast-paced scene.

Admittedly, the ending did feel a bit farfetched. Not the fire, which is teased in the prologue. But the confrontations between the siblings, and the resolution of Nina’s journey in the book. It all felt a little stretched and over the top, particularly in the dialogue — like a caricature of reality. In most scenes that feature Mick, present or past, his dialogue can border on cringeworthy.

“So Nina knew she couldn’t cancel a party like that. The Rivas might not be like most families, being just the four of them, but they had their traditions. And anyway, there was no good way to cancel a party that never had any invitations. People were coming, whether she wanted them there or not.”

Malibu Rising is recommended for readers of contemporary fiction, and romance. The novel moves between the 1950s-1980s, so those of you who love reading stories set during these decades will appreciate the setting. Readership skews female, 25+

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

Malibu Rising
Taylor Jenkins Reid
June 2021
Penguin Random House Publishers

The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalila Harris

Get Out meets The Devil Wears Prada.

Twenty-six-year-old editorial assistant Nella Rogers is tired of being the only Black employee at Wagner Books. Fed up with the isolation and the micro-aggressions, she’s thrilled when Hazel starts working in the cubicle beside hers. They’ve only just started comparing natural hair care regimens, though, when a string of uncomfortable events cause Nella to become Public Enemy Number One and Hazel, the Office Darling.

Then the notes begin to appear on Nella’s desk: LEAVE WAGNER. NOW.

It’s hard to believe Hazel is behind these hostile messages. But as Nella starts to spiral and obsess over the sinister forces at play, she soon realises that there is a lot more at stake than her career.

The Other Black Girl is debut fiction by Zakiya Dalila Harris, set predominantly within a top-tier publishing house in New York City and centring around 26-year-old editorial assistant Nella, who is initially thrilled when her employer — Wagner Books — hires another black girl. But it becomes clear very quickly that all is not quite right with new employee Hazel.

This is one of the first books in a long while where I really had to take some time afterwards to think on the story, and the ending. Get Out is a great comparison for this book — it’s genre-bending and twisty, and forces you to re-think every character you meet. But I’ll admit that The Devil Wears Prada does not feel like the right comparison title. Don’t go into this book thinking it’s going to be a fun, light and glamorous story. The office setting is similar, but nothing else. This is a heavy story — very dark.

“Nella cocked her head, wondering how Hazel had guessed that. She often prided herself on how different she was from her Ivy League, upper-middle-class colleagues — not just in her appearance, but in the ways she moved about the world. Still, Nella knew she had it pretty good, too.”

A social satire, The Other Black Girl expertly captures modern workplace social dynamic. More specifically, institutions pretending to support diversity, but also psychologically forcing black staff to bend, adapt and morph into an employee that’s deemed appropriate by the corporation — complacent and apologetic, eager to please and do what’s expected of them.

While the pacing does lag a bit and most of the scenes take place during the day-to-day office environment, Zakiya sets the reader up for a tense read. Nella and Hazel’s interactions grow sharp and full of power — a tense back-and-forth between the two that continues to build. You feel sucked into their world. You know it’s not going to end well for Nella, but you can’t work out how the story will progress, and so you keep reading.

The publishing industry’s lack of diversity is a point of critique in the novel, and Zakiya drew on her own experiences working in book publishing when writing the novel. Majority of the staff are white, especially those at the top, but everyone likes to act like an ally. They like to pretend they care for diversity, but their actions do little to prove this.

“Nella hadn’t intended for her own voice to have such an edge to it, especially when Hazel had been so hopeful and reassuring. She didn’t feel much like apologizing, though. Not now, and not when forty-five minutes passed without her cube neighbour speaking another word.”

Admittedly, this book felt longer than it needed to be. The climax of the story — the best bits — were in the final 50 pages. And it did feel like a long time coming. The different POVs thrust into the story seemed to distract from the storyline and slow down the piece. Could they have been stripped back, or could information have been included in a different way? Perhaps.

Finally, it’s so incredibly obvious from the outset that Hazel is trying to mess with Nella. From the very first couple of scenes together, she’s deliberately trying to sabotage Nella. And Nella actually takes quite a long time to put two-and-two together, making her look incredibly naive. And even when she does star to clock on, she’s quite a passive person. She’s not active in response, and she doesn’t seem motivated to do anything. She just…lets events happen. I found Hazel to be a much more interesting character than Nella, she certainly felt like a more compelling person to read about.

“Nella sank back down into her chair, a sudden chill threading itself down her throat and into her stomach, like she’d swallowed an unhealthy amount of helium. Again, she examined the piece of paper that was in her left hand; then the envelope in her right.”

Dark and claustrophobic but oh so inviting, The Other Black Girl will delight. Readership skews female, 25+

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

The Other Black Girl
Zakiya Dalila Harris
June 2021
Bloomsbury Publishers

Before You Knew My Name by Jacqueline Bublitz

This is not just another novel about a dead girl.

When she arrived in New York on her 18th birthday carrying nothing but $600 cash and a stolen camera, Alice Lee was looking for a fresh start. Now, just one month later, she is the city’s latest Jane Doe, an unidentified murder victim.

Ruby Jones is also trying to start over; she travelled halfway around the world only to find herself lonelier than ever. Until she finds Alice’s body by the Hudson River.

From this first, devastating encounter, the two women form an unbreakable bond. Alice is sure that Ruby is the key to solving the mystery of her life – and death. And Ruby – struggling to forget what she saw that morning – finds herself unable to let Alice go. Not until she is given the ending she deserves.

Before You Knew My Name doesn’t ask whodunnit. Instead, this powerful, hopeful novel asks: Who was she? And what did she leave behind? The answers might surprise you.

Jacqueline Bublitz’s debut novel Before You Knew My Name is compelling and powerful literary fiction about murder and grief, but also about what happens to those left behind after someone is killed.

Two woman arrive in New York City on the same day, and although they don’t know each other, their lives soon intersect under tragic circumstances. Thirty-six year old Ruby, running away from love, discovers the body of 18-year old Alice Lee. Raped and murdered in the early hours of the morning, Alice is about to be the latest statistic of women murdered in NYC.

The book switches focus between Alice and Ruby, as we work to find out what happened to Alice in her final days, and how Ruby will cope in the wake of the murder.

“In the beginning, I disappeared on purpose. Extricated myself from a life I didn’t want, just like Ruby did. But unlike Ruby, I didn’t tell anyone where I went. Not even my best friend. I let Tammy think I had stayed right where she left me; I wanted to skip out of my old life unseen. And if certain people stayed on my skin, if they came along in my suitcase uninvited, at least they wouldn’t be able to cause any fresh wounds.”

Whilst Before You Knew Me Name features elements of crime and thriller in the story — peppered but present — I wouldn’t describe this as crime fiction. It’s a character-driven story that dances around the murder, building tension with each passing chapter as we come closer to understanding Alice’s final hours, and how that will intersect with Ruby’s story.

Jacqueline’s writing is a key strength here. It’s reflective and observant — mature. Alice presents this all-knowing voice, which invites the reader in and expertly guides them until the final page. The novel explores so much more than just love and loss. It’s about connection and family, and about someone else choosing where your life is going in a split second. It’s about how to take stock of her life, even when you’re going through the worst time, and choose for yourself how you want to continue.

“I am tired of beautiful things making me sad. I should like to love something without turning it over and discovering exposed wires, cheap parts on the other side. For the first time, I wish he wasn’t so insistent on telling me the truth of things.”

Initially, it does take a couple of chapters to grow comfortable with the style of narration. The novel is written posthumously from Alice’s perspective, but in the midst of telling her own story, she does intermittently focus in on Ruby’s story. Switching between past and present, Alice seems to be all-knowing, offering reflections on Ruby’s life with an intimate perspective.

So whilst the writing is incredibly affecting and delicate, and the story is told in the best possible format, the stylistic elements of the writing — in particular the POV — do take a bit of time to get used to.

“Later, when I look back at all the beginnings that turned me, inch by inch, toward the river, I will see this was the gentlest of them. Shaking the soft, warm hand of an old man, and then a tour of his apartment, with a large, brown dog leading the way.”

Exceptional literary writing that will sit with you for days after completion, Before You Knew My Name is powerful and devastating. As hard as it is to ‘enjoy’ something of this subject matter, it is a phenomenal read. A comparison title would be Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones.

Readership skews female, all ages.

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

Before You Knew My Name
Jacqueline Bublitz
May 2021
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers