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JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

June 13, 2022

The Dance Tree by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

June 13, 2022

In Strasbourg, in the boiling hot summer of 1518, a plague strikes the women of the city. First it is just one – a lone figure, dancing in the town square – but she is joined by more and more and the city authorities declare an emergency. Musicians will be brought in. The devil will be danced out of these women.

Just beyond the city’s limits, pregnant Lisbet lives with her mother-in-law and husband, tending the bees that are their livelihood. Her best friend Ida visits regularly and Lisbet is so looking forward to sharing life and motherhood with her. And then, just as the first woman begins to dance in the city, Lisbet’s sister-in-law Nethe returns from six years penance in the mountains for an unknown crime. No one – not even Ida – will tell Lisbet what Nethe did all those years ago, and Nethe herself will not speak a word about it.

It is the beginning of a few weeks that will change everything for Lisbet – her understanding of what it is to love and be loved, and her determination to survive at all costs for the baby she is carrying. Lisbet and Nethe and Ida soon find themselves pushing at the boundaries of their existence – but they’re dancing to a dangerous tune . . .

Well this was a delight. Kiran Millwood Hargrave’s The Dance Tree explores lust, family secrets and women under the eye of the Church, set against the backdrop of a captivating dance plague overtaking a small Strasbourg village in 1518. The Dance Tree is also about a returned sister, silenced by a past transgression, and a main character constrained by her marriage and her crowded home.

The Dance Tree is a very female-centric story. At its heart is the pregnant Lisbet, who is hoping her current pregnancy will be her first successful one. Her mother-in-law shames her for her past miscarriages and stillborns, and no one will tell her why Nethe, her husband’s sister, was sent away to the mountains for seven years. What crime did she commit and how will her return affect Lisbet’s life? There is also her best friend Ida, who made a substantial sacrifice years ago and is still living with the repercussions.

“The smell comes like a cloud from the river that cuts east of Strasbourg. It is brown and sluggish beneath the sun, and as they near the city proper, the smell grows solid, grows guts and breath.”

Based on true events, Kiran captures the religious condemnation of the time period with clarity. When the dance plague starts, and then spreads, those in charge are wielded even more power to make it stop. The plague frightens them, and then in turn, they begin to frighten the rest of the townsfolk. People are already hungry and desperate and oppressed by those more powerful than them. Over time, their control over the town begins to fracture, and women band together to exert their force over those in charge.

The writing is one of the strengths in the book – Kiran’s ability to capture human emotion through actions and reactions. There is no ‘telling’ in this book; we learn everything we need to know through social interactions and dialogue. We come to understand feelings and emotions through movement and song and tender conversations between the unlikeliest of friends. And as the pages progress, Kiran builds tension and pacing with ease.

“The ground is scattered with leaves and her gifts. She brings the babies magpie offerings and places them at the base of the tree: pleasingly patterned stones, found feathers, flowers pressed and weighted with pebbles. She used to be superstitious about it, making deals and promises with each token.”

Other strengths in the book include female friendship and relationships between family — particularly Lisbet and her mother-in-law — setting, temperature and weather, and capturing lust and love between two people who struggle to part from one another.

Lisbet reflects on how her relationship with her husband has changed over the years, from intense passion to disappointment, and finally, to what feels like complacency. Lisbet feels guilty for not being able to carry a pregnancy, and thus she feels lost and alone, even when surrounded by others. She has much to learn about life and living, and Nethe’s return acts as the catalyst towards this.

“Nethe said in the abbey such judgements between holy mania and demonic possession rested on whether someone was liked or not. Lisbet eyes her, wondering what effect such a pronouncement will have on her. But Nethe has turned to stone again.”

Lyrical, atmospheric and imaginative, The Dance Tree is recommended for literary fiction readers. Readership skews female, 30+

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

The Dance Tree
Kiran Millwood Hargrave
May 2022
Pan Macmillan Publishers Australia

Leave a Comment · Labels: 10/10, Adult Fiction, Book Reviews Tagged: adult fiction, book review, fiction, literary, literary fiction, review

March 24, 2022

Loveland by Robert Lukins

March 24, 2022

Amid the ruins of a fire-ravaged amusement park and destroyed waterfront dwellings, one boarded-up building still stands. May has come from Australia to Loveland, Nebraska, to claim the house on the poisoned lake as part of her grandmother’s will. Escaping the control of her husband, will she find refuge or danger?

As she starts repairing the old house, May is drawn to discover more about her silent, emotionally distant grandmother and unravel the secrets that Casey had moved halfway around the world to keep hidden. How she and Casey’s lives interconnect, and the price they both must pay for their courage, is gradually revealed as this mesmerising and lyrical novel unfolds.

Tender and heartfelt, Robert Lukins’ novel Loveland explores humanity, family, history, and the secrets that bind generations together. Its two main characters, May and Casey, are the vulnerable among the volatile.

After her grandmother dies, May flees her abusive husband and travels from Australia to Nebraska to claim her inheritance — a loved but long-empty house aside a poisoned lake. Written in third person, Loveland moves between perspectives: primarily May and her grandmother Casey, but we’re also privy to one of Casey’s neighbours and once close friend, Jean.

“Casey thought the flower was quite beautiful. She had none of them on her side of the fence. The husband could be watching from the big house but what crime was there in collecting a weed? Without pausing to reconsider, she acted.”

Like other novels that centre around a woman searching the depths of their grandmother’s past, May comes to realise quite quickly that she didn’t really know her grandmother at all. Mystery surrounds her marriage, her youth and her connection to the Nebraska town she once lived in as a young wife and mother. Over the course of the story, we witness what appears to be history repeating itself — a young woman, loyal and trusting, trapped in an abusive marriage with little opportunity to extricate herself from it.

A common thread in each storyline is Jean — when a young teenager, she’s a friend and confidante for Casey, and when older, she’s the caretaker of Casey’s home and the person who helps May reconnect with the grandmother she’s struggling to understand.

May and Casey’s lives seem to parallel in a way that haunts the reader, keeps them engaged as each chapter ends. Both women almost seem tethered to each other, much like the men they’re married to. But whilst those marriages seem to be a detriment — a physical and emotional toll — the connection between May and Casey almost seems necessary for May, and also Jean, to resolve each of their demons.

“Jean’s house was among the final few on the curve before the decline to the lake. Hers was the least well kept. Not a wreck, but certainly not the tamed exhibitions of the others…Tate had made her put her hand to her heart and swear an oath that she understood her debt. The personal, unbreakable contract into which they had entered.”

An underlying theme of the book is intergenerational trauma — do we inherit trauma? Does it plague a family and its descendants, no matter what?

Whilst at times I felt the significance of the land and lake was a little lost on me, perhaps the imagery not quite as perfected as I would’ve liked, I found the characters compelling enough to continue reading. Jean was the necessary element to keep the story progressing and to keep May and Casey connected — as predicted, she held the secrets that explained why Casey liked to keep her connection to Nebraska hidden, even later in her life.

“May had flown six times in her life. To and from Sydney, once. To and from Cairns, twice. Each a family holiday that would be christened with Patrick’s disapproval over the size or state of the hotel room. He had always been the one to book.”

Steady and measured with a haunting undertone, Robert Lukins’ Loveland is recommended for literary readers. Reminiscent of Kristin Hannah, whom I love. Readership skews female, 30+

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

Loveland
Robert Lukins
March 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

Leave a Comment · Labels: 8/10, Adult Fiction, Book Reviews Tagged: adult fiction, book review, fiction, literary, review

February 6, 2022

The Islands by Emily Brugman

February 6, 2022

In the mid-1950s, a small group of Finnish migrants set up camp on Little Rat, a tiny island in an archipelago off the coast of Western Australia. The crayfishing industry is in its infancy, and the islands, haunted though they are by past shipwrecks, possess an indefinable allure.

Drawn here by tragedy, Onni Saari is soon hooked by the stark beauty of the landscape and the slivers of jutting coral onto which the crayfishers build their precarious huts. Could these reefs, teeming with the elusive and lucrative cray, hold the key to a good life?

The Islands is the sweeping story of the Saari family: Onni, an industrious and ambitious young man, grappling with the loss of a loved one; his wife Alva, quiet but stoic, seeking a sense of belonging between the ramshackle camps of the islands and the dusty suburban lots of the mainland; and their pensive daughter Hilda, who dreams of becoming the skipper of her own boat. As the Saari’s try to build their future in Australia, their lives entwine with those of the fishing families of Little Rat, in myriad and unexpected ways.

A stunning, insightful story of a search for home.

Emily Brugman’s debut novel The Islands is a multi-generational literary tale that documents Finnish migration to the Abrolhos Islands off the coast of Western Australia.

Although this is a fictional tale, The Islands is heavily influenced by the stories of Emily’s ancestors from 1959 – 1972, as well as extensive research into these islands and cray fishermen from the mid-20th century. The Islands is set across many decades and moves back and forth between different members of the family. Over the course of the novel, we observe each character during pivotal moments in their lives.

“A year for the Saaris was now lived in two parts: on-season and off-season. Their first season on Little Rat had been a moderate success, from an economic standpoint, and the couple looked ahead with a suspicious and careful optimism characteristic of their people.”

At its core, The Islands is about the pursuit of a sustainable and secure life. But it’s also about resilience — both physical and emotional — and perseverance. We witness what that can encapsulate whether you’re 40, 60 or 14. In this isolated and secluded setting, we meet women experiencing loneliness, experiencing childbirth for the first time. We read as their children then mature into teenagers within this barren but plentiful landscape — we follow them as they discover impulses and sexual desire. We come across men working to earn for their families, having arrived with the hope of a land that provides.

“They carried him to camp and laid him down on his side, covering him with a blanket. Hilda stood watching from a corner. Helvi was crying and so was Aiti, although she was trying not to. Hilda wanted to cry too, but she didn’t think that would be right after what she’d done. So she just stood there. And Lauri didn’t move.”

Scattered throughout the novel are Finnish verses, then translated into English. By embedding Finnish language into the novel, readers are further immersed in culture, community and these characters’ historical journey.

There is a strong sense of song and music throughout the book, and the Finnish verses also allow the characters to have a stronger connection to their heritage because it feels like knowledge is being passed between generations.

“Towards the close of his first season, Onni woke to find Little Rat covered in dead shearwaters, their dishevelled bodies in oily black heaps on the coral ground. Those shaggy mutton birds, as the Aussies called them. They flew thousands of miles every year, across open ocean, through torrents of rain and wind. They didn’t always make it, and every so often they’d wash up on shorelines in their hundreds. A wreck. That was what they called it, when they washed up like that.”

Evocative and emotional, Emily Brugman’s The Islands is recommended for literary readers, and fans of grand familial sagas steeped in wild, forbidding settings like a Hannah Kent novel. Readership skews female, 30+

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

The Islands
Emily Brugman
February 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

Leave a Comment · Labels: 8/10, Adult Fiction, Book Reviews Tagged: adult fiction, book review, fiction, literary, literary fiction, review

January 24, 2022

Olga Dies Dreaming by Xochitl Gonzalez

January 24, 2022

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

Leave a Comment · Labels: 9/10, Adult Fiction, Book Reviews Tagged: adult fiction, book review, fiction, literary, literary fiction, review

October 26, 2021

The Survivors by Alex Schulman

October 26, 2021

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

Leave a Comment · Labels: 8/10, Adult Fiction, Book Reviews Tagged: adult fiction, book review, fiction, literary, review, thriller

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