Chapter 35: A Book Set Somewhere You've Always Wanted to Visit

Trail of Broken Wings, Sejal Badani

I'm not sure if it's northern California that I want to visit, or India, but those are the two places this book takes place and I'd be happy to travel to either. Not why I picked this title, but, hey, I'll use whatever I can make work.

The title led me to believe that this would be a rich text full of evocative language. It's not. I'm beginning to think that I need to lower my literary standards. Again we have a book with so much potential that never is fulfilled. I hate that I am, once again, writing about an unimpressive book, but here goes.

Broken Wings is the tale of three women and their mother, as they reunite around the deathbed of their father, who has fallen into an inexplicable coma. The family immigrated to the States from India when the girls were still young, only one having memories of their life there. Instead of finding the American Dream, daddy flips a switch and becomes an abusive tyrant to his family, except the middle sister who remains adored.

So now daddy is unresponsive and the women are facing a very complicated situation. Do they want him to live? Do they want him to die? Should he suffer? Does he still have control over them? What role does each play in the family and can that ever change? All some really great questions. All of them pretty much ignored, too. I was so disappointed in the shallow treatment of so many complicated things.

First, there is much time taken repeating pseudo-poetic metaphors that bore me, but there is very little exploration of how being an Indian family in the United States gives this story any flavor. Make me feel the pain of being an outsider in your own home. Make me long for a life that is idealized by time and distance. Give me more insight into Indian culture and how it makes this story happen. Don't just keep serving chai and roti. There is so much more to your voice than an old sari and some naan. I'm getting frustrated all over again just thinking about it.

Next, give the characters some personality. There's the successful, driven executive who is a control freak. There's the pretty and loved one who does her duty to family. There's the rebel artist who pushes people away. It's so cliche. Give me some flawed humanity. Give me hidden anguish. Or, explain to me why these women are so one-dimensional and rigid. And don't tell me it's because their dad was an abuser. I kept wanting more, hoping for a breakthrough, and it never happened. This is probably why I couldn't pursue a career in phsychology- I would lose my temper on people who held back.

As the youngest of three daughters, I would have loved to relate to the women as their relationships grew over time. But they didn't. They are all stuck in their ways and only make superficial growth throughout the pages. Ranee, the mom, is easily my favorite character because she does allow for changes. Her revelation was not a surprise for me, but was foreshadowed elegantly enough that I only knew what would happen, not how. That was one part of the writing that I felt was well-developed. Otherwise, it was mostly immature and heavy-handed writing.

Part of me hoped that this would connect me to the part of my family that came to the States from India. Though I haven't seen them in over a decade, there are some bonds that exist forever. They did not suffer the kind of torment as the family in the novel, but there are definitely some complicated relationships there.

I mentioned complicated grief earlier. This is a term a friend introduced me to while she was coping with her mother's death. I find the idea so fascinating and also comforting. It's a phrase I wish to give to many people I know who feel conflicted about the end of relationships or lives near to them. Maybe that will be a theme in something I write one day. Until then, I hope it at least gives people something to think about.

Trail of Broken Wings gets a disappointing two Marias. Wish me luck that the next one is worth recommending.

Chapter 33: A Book By an Author You've Never Read Before

The Good Neighbor, A. J. Banner

This story has so much potential. The writing is well-paced to build tension and suspicion. But it all kind of falls apart in the end. Like, really falls apart.

It's been compared to Gone Girl, a book I have serious issues with. So, maybe I should have skipped it. But I wanted a thriller so I downloaded.

Sarah lives in a quiet neighborhood in the Pacific Northwest. Everything seems pretty normal until the next-door-neighbor's house burns to the ground and Sarah rescues the four year old daughter, but fails to save the parents.

Then the secrets start to be revealed. That's sort of the formula for this type of novel. Some are laid out for the reader to ponder, others are just hints and glimpses of potential terror. But the terror comes too little, too late. It's out of nowhere. The breadcrumbs leading to the villain must have been eaten by mice because the Big Reveal comes out of nowhere.

So, not only does the antagonist just snap and put people in danger, but the other storylines are not resolved. Ok, I get it. You plan to write more about these people, to develop them more. Then do that. I don't enjoy reading a series that does not allow the individual pieces to stand alone. Especially when there are no other installments! Make me fall in love with the characters and then let new conflicts arise. Don't leave me hanging with a runaway, a possibly cheating spouse, and whatever other nonsense you didn't bother wrapping up in the first.

It was entertaining until the last quarter of the book. But instead of being like an awesome illusion where you are left wondering how the magician pulled it off, you're just scratching you head wondering why he even bothered. I feel like I've been trapped in an Arrested Development gag. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Nvxv2R01po

I won't read this one again. I won't recommend it to anyone I like. It wasn't a total waste of time, in part because I keep thinking of what I would do to make the ending more satisfying. Neighbor gets two Marias.

Chapter 12: A Book That Became A Movie

The Book Thief, Markus Zusak

I want to like this book. Really. It's got drama and books, the pages are filled with the complexities of human existence. But ... meh.

*** A VERY IMPORTANT NOTE ***

I'm about to tell you something very important. And I will use a wort, or word.

This gimmick is old. Boring. Redundant. Annoying. It makes me want to punch Death in the grapes.

I have to give Zusak credit for taking on a much-visited topic, Germany during World War II, from a less-used position, that of Death. And the core story arc would be compelling if it were readable. But instead we have a stuttering telling of a young girl in a poor home in Germany. She meets people. She cares for people. She helps hide a Jew in the basement. Everyone calls each other asshole. Everyone has nightmares. Everyone dies.

I'm going to attempt to discuss a few key points in an orderly manner, but having had my brain scrambled by this book, I beg your pardon if it comes out jumbled.

First, Death as narrator. This isn't a completely novel approach to storytelling (see what I did there?). At first I actually enjoyed reading the buildup of Nazi Germany from a non-human point of view. But, ugh, the gimmick. The flow is disrupted by those stupid boldface interjections of no value. And for a mostly indifferent persona, death sure uses a lot of indicators of extreme emotion. But to what end? To tell us what he's about to tell us.

Second, the book thief. Ok, let's start with the fact that she only technically steals one book in the whole story. One she picks up after someone drops it. Another she rescues from a pile of smoldering ashes. And, after she steals the one book, the owner starts leaving more for her to "steal." So, she doesn't seem very worthy of this title. And as the story progresses, you learn that Death, too, has picked up a book someone left behind. So he's a book thief too! Oh how clever! Not.

Then, the characters are not well developed. Hans has silver eyes. Rosa is a wardrobe of a woman with a cardboard face (whatever the heck that means). Liesel loves papa. Rudy loves Liesel. Max is a Jew. They are flat and they do incredibly foolish things. I think some of these instances, like giving bread to Jews as they are marched to Dachau, are supposed to illustrate the humanity of the main characters, that they really do love and care and pity the victims of the Holocaust. Except that giving them bread is sure to bring more suffering to the people- beatings or worse. So it seems, to me, that these are essentially selfish acts to alleviate some guilt of not acting sooner. It's certainly no black-and-white dilemma, but Death sure thinks it is. Over and over, acts of love bring more misery and death to the objects of that love. Death is kind of an asshole.

The tempo and chronology was the most troublesome for me. There isn't so much a foreshadowing of events as there is a sentence or two telling you something is going to happen. Then Death backs up (sometimes months) and finally brings you back to the original sentence. Again, it's gimmicky and tiresome. After everyone died, I kept reading and they were alive again. It took a big mental shift to figure out where in time I was. And then I leapt forward again. And literally the entire book is like this because the first sentence is that everyone dies. But the story doesn't end there. Oh no! We have to revisit the deaths a few times before Death finally wraps the whole thing up.

My big question about this novel is- what makes it Young Adult? Yes, Liesel is eight years old when it begins, but that doesn't seem quite enough. Teens these days are unlikely to even know a person who remembers WWII, so the specific story doesn't seem all that relatable. The major tensions of the book are not ones that exist in everyday life, at least not in the same way that other YA books I've read do. Maybe it's just another way to keep the realities of WWII Germany in current conversations. If so, it seems to be doing that. My teenage niece loves this book. I doubt she saw Schindler's List or Life Is Beautiful.

Overall, I'm pretty ambivalent about this novel. It didn't give me a case of the Feels. It wasn't new territory or groundbreaking insight. Nor was it really entertaining. But the context for the target audience and for effort alone, I give The Book Thief 2 Marias.



Chapter 3b: A Trilogy

Insurgent, Veronica Roth
I should call this discussion No Surprises. So here's a list of the Things That Did Not Surprise Me about this book:

• The second book of the trilogy is not as interesting as the first.
• The language has become repetitive. Every single time Tris gets injured, her vision goes black around the edges.
• Some of the Bad Guys are kind of Good Guys.
• Some of the Good Guys are kind of Bad Guys.
• The twists. I find it hard to believe anyone with a functioning brain stem did not see these coming. There's a fence around Chicago and you don't think there are people living outside that fence? Come on.

What did surprise me? The first person narrative of Divergent that pushed that story forward, drags this one down. 384 pages of Tris not wanting to live, wanting to die, wanting to sacrifice herself. 384 pages! And then when she has the chance to do just that, she changes her mind. One of the qualities that makes her the hero is that she stubbornly does things, even when she doesn't want to, even if it means hurting someone she cares about, if it means saving the world. As a Divergent, she has flexibility of character, but this sudden and major change is more like Sybil.

Editorially, I think this story could have been whittled down a lot. It seems that what could have been a handful of scenes has been stretched out into a whole novel. The war is beginning. Book One was enough of a buildup to the big battle. Here, we have more buildup, but without the emotional pressure and anticipation, and then the fight itself is glossed over and anti-climactic.

Part of me wants to grab Allegiant and be done with this series. Part of me needs a break from Roth. Here's hoping the final installment is better than this one.

Chapter 5: A Book Based on or Turned Into a TV Show

Pretty Little Liars, Sara Shepard

Confession time: PLL is one of my Netflix guilty pleasures. I won't even pretend to feel bad about it. It's a great show for many terrible reasons. But what about the books?

It's hard not to compare the page and screen versions. There's always discussion of time constraints and budgets and casting. So let's not bother. The show is popcorn worthy. If you want to know about the books, here's what I think.

I'd rather watch the show. The first book in the series is not a whole book. It's the beginning of a book. Unlike any other series I've ever read, there is no resolution at all. None. It's all a setup for the next book(s). I feel as ripped off by it as I did that extra season of Arrested Development. I invested my entertainment hours to a really long trailer for something else.

The writing? Not bad. The characters are pretty one-dimensional, which makes them great for a soap opera. There's nothing challenging or thought-provoking happening on the pages. Just chapter after chapter of teenage drama, mystery, and intrigue. It's easy to read, but if I didn't already watch the show, this first segment would not make me want to check out the next title. Still, I will probably read the rest of the series so I can do the aforementioned comparison.

Here's one thing, though. In this fictional elite suburb, the kids seem to be very worldly. Maybe I'm just not in touch with middle school these days (who am I kidding, I'm clearly not), but these kids are doing some pretty adult things. Not just the designer everything, but drinking, seducing older men. They seem to be exploring things at a much younger age than I remember. Maybe that's what makes them popular among the YA crowd- the escape from reality. Or maybe they are an indication of how times have changed. Either way, it doesn't always sit well with my prudish ideas. Most of the unsettling aspects have to do with men. So maybe it's my inner feminist cringing at all the exploitation of minors. I dunno. It won't stop me from reading or watching, but it does give me pause.

Anyway, that's about it. Not much material to think about, so not much to write about.