“The Anthropocene Reviewed” by John Green

Disclaimer: I had my first Dr Pepper in the course of reading this book. I didn’t particularly like it, but I am definitely giving the experience five stars.

Just so you have an idea of the current state of affairs, writing the sentence above made me emotional.

Reading during this pandemic has been a challenge for me. I reached a state of overwhelm that had me scrolling endlessly, something I believe I did for the false sense of movement. I think the best way to describe my mind would be an airport – some information did land, but never stayed for more than a few moments. I had to do quite a bit of restructuring to find my way back to myself, which meant slowing down, relearning how to sit down with myself and just be.

“The Sound of Seas” by Gillian Anderson & Jeff Rovin

I remember having mentioned a certain turbulence when reviewing A Dream of Ice. I was referring to the process of getting back into the storyline after a rather long intermission. I am pleased to announce that nothing of the sort happened when starting The Sound of Seas. To be quite honest, it surprised me how quickly I fell back into it, as if we had never truly parted ways. For such a dense novel, in the sense of being incredibly rich in detail, I find that to be extraordinary.

“Either everything matters or nothing does.”

I am in awe of how Gillian Anderson and Jeff Rovin managed to tie such an immense amount of loose ends in less than three hundred pages. It does feel condensed, perhaps even slightly rushed, but I believe it wouldn’t work any other way. It’s as if all the information gathered becomes this one point of energy that then expands into everything.

“The Witch House of Persimmon Point” by Suzanne Palmieri

“This book may not be for you. I wrote this book for me. An exorcism of my own demons. My own experiences placed inside a fictional landscape that is safe. For me. But maybe not so safe for you, my dearests.”

I remember writing that The Witch of Bourbon Street was a hurricane. Well, The Witch House of Persimmon Point comes with a warning from Suzanne Palmieri herself. It’s life.

This book knows its pages owe you nothing, but it still offers you everything. There is a price to pay though. As it opens itself to you, it compels you to do the same. There will be no bonding from a distance, I am afraid, but if you allow yourself to put on the shoes offered to you, you will feel every single word. It’s painful, you will burn, but you will be reborn from the ashes.

“No, I want you to tell me so I can imagine it. It’s realer that way.”

I am not going to say I was not expecting this, because if there is something Suzanne Palmieri has taught me with her books is that anything can, and most definitely will, happen. Still, this was one of the rawest books I have read this year. There is no sugarcoating for the sake of the reader’s heart. This book is what it is, brave beyond words, some might say even beyond reason. That is where its power resides. People tend to think of exposition as vulnerability, weakness. This book revels in it, finds its strength in stripping itself of all the masks and acknowledging its core – I see you.

“Time doesn’t stop for tragedy or elation; it plods onward, always onward, for the living and sometimes even for the dead.”

Suzanne Palmieri’s writing is at its most powerful. It’s almost violent, but not without a purpose and not without its grace – a feather acknowledging its weight, a rose falling in love with its thorns. The honesty of it left me breathless. Oh, and the tenderness, particularly between Anne and William… Sigh. Suzanne Palmieri’s books are living proof that beauty is everywhere, you just need to want to see it, to be ready to face it.

I would say The Witch House of Persimmon Point is a fearless book – it is not without it, but it accepts, inhales, its existence.

“Life is about each other. A sum total of the impact you had on others. A collection of beauty. A retrospective. It is not changed or affected by the circumstances of the end. God, if only we all knew this epic truth. Each day, each breath inside a day, is a new moment to build love.”

There is one particular idea that had me closing the book to wonder. The colors retiring, almost as if slowly draining from the world due to being ignored over the fear that the end will taint everything else. How hopeful is it that it seems to be Maj’s favorite? It made my heart swell.

“So, leave your worries with your shoes and make a run for the ocean.”

The Witch House of Persimmon Point is a roller coaster with a delightful to be continued − I can’t say ending because part of Suzanne Palmieri’s magic is the life she breathes into these people, making them beyond real.

Maj is out there somewhere painting, introducing shades back into a world that now more than ever needs them. Oh, and Byrd… her voice is extraordinary and I can’t imagine her ever not existing. These stories, these disturbed and disturbing women, brought them here. I am grateful for the middle.

“Just One Day” by Gayle Forman

“What if Shakespeare had it wrong?”

How is one supposed to carry on like nothing has happened when there’s a book out there with that question as a first line? All the awards to you, Gayle Forman.

I am rather speechless, to be honest. What to say? This book hits home in more ways than one. It’s about feeling lost and soon realizing that you are actually starting the process of finding yourself. It’s about accepting that process as a journey to enjoy instead of a destiny to reach. It’s about changing and understanding that you are just learning who you are, accepting who you are, all throughout life. At every break of dawn a new breath, a new negotiation of a self that doesn’t ever stop evolving. And so much more.

“Oh, honey, have you learned nothing from these plays? Ain’t such a line between faking and being.”

Beautifully written. Splendidly well developed and built as one. And Shakespeare! And Amsterdam, Paris, London… And the spirit of travelling… and all the stains that come with it.

I would say Gayle Forman outdid herself. Then again, I think that’s what she does. Always taking a step forward. Never standing still. It has been an absolute pleasure to walk with her.

Thank you, Gayle Forman. Thank you so much. For everything.

“Holding Up the Universe” by Jennifer Niven

“I know. I get it. It’s easy to give everyone what they want. What’s expected. The problem with doing this is you lose sight of where you truly begin and where the fake you, the one who tries to be everything to everyone, ends.”

Libby Strout and Jack Masselin are two teenagers trying to make sense of the world, trying to recognize themselves for who they are and not for the shadow they cast. While Libby seems not to know how to be anyone but herself, Jack seems to survive on exactly the opposite, on being everyone but himself, at least when in public. A bad decision born from a good intention brings them together and they find themselves in each other.

“My mom used to say sometimes it’s actually about the other person and you just happen to be there. Like sometimes the other person needs to learn a lesson or go through an experience, good or bad, and you’re just an accessory in some way, like a supporting actor in whatever their scene happens to be.”

I would say that Holding Up the Universe is, first and foremost, a novel about navigating and surviving the world of expectations, a novel about growing into our own skin amongst people who keep trying to mold us into being what they think of us, what they want and need us to be. A novel about dreaming, I would call it, about waking up and still wanting to leave the bed. A novel about hope.

I must confess I was rather nervous because of how much All the Bright Places meant to me – oh, hello there expectations. I needed not to worry though. Jennifer Niven delivered yet another beautifully written story that has the reader bonding with the characters over their scars, their fears, their wishes, dreams and desires, over trying to survive in a society that wants to label them and chain them to particular boxes, categories. I love how this connection finds roots in everything but pity.

“It’s been my experience that the people who are most afraid are the ones who hide behind mean and threatening words.”

I think this novel is beyond relevant, but recent events have made it even more so. Fear has had a supporting role since the beginning of times, and all through History, but lately it seems almost as if the script has been revised and fear has been promoted to the main character. Instead of helping the world take a step forward, it seems to have it taking a step back, creating distance, spreading an avoidance policy that has hatred filling the void.

“She believed that situations and people were almost never black-and-white.”

At the end of the day we are all human. Everything is a matter of perspective and we have a say in how we look at things, from where we try to comprehend them, we have a choice. It’s not always easy to open our eyes, to refuse to be led by hurt. We can’t forget though that words have no inherent meaning, we are the ones to give them power. While we have to teach people to think before speaking, we also have to learn how to listen.

“How can something so final happen in an instant? No preparation. No warning. No chance to do all the things you planned to do. No chance to say goodbye.”

I would say that Holding Up the Universe is a novel about love, yes. Not just about finding, recognizing, people who love you, but also about learning to love yourself.

P.S. I didn’t want to address the girl-needs-boy-for-validation narrative that could be seen here, but I think perhaps I should. Libby never said she needed a boy, but she wants love, she wants company and understanding. Who are we to judge her? As long as it makes her happy and doesn’t have her attacking anyone…

“The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society” by Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows

“Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers. How delightful if that were true.”

I had to put The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society down twice: once to have lunch and once to sleep (my eyes were giving up on me, making it all blurry). During my first break, while my mother complained that the food was getting cold, I logged in on Amazon and sent a copy of this book to one of my friends. I was not even 100 pages in and I already felt the need to share it immediately. The same happened while reading Fannie Flagg’s Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe. I think these two books will get along just fine on the same shelf.

In one word? I would say… delicious. An irresistible dessert, I would call it, an impeccably balanced recipe. Both sour and sweet, saddening and joyful, heartbreaking and uplifting… just in the right amount. What a delight!

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society shares its story by allowing the reader to go through the characters’ correspondence. I find letters to be such personal possessions. Not only do they tell a lot about their writers with what’s in them, they also tell a lot with what’s not (specially when you have access to multiple senders and recipients). It’s fantastic to witness the portraits of these characters coming together. One goes from not knowing any of them to feeling like they are family. I think that at some point I was already composing a letter in my head to send them. How wonderful is that?

There’s a little bit of everything. There’s life – and death. It’s real. And alive.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society was an absolute joy to read! A wonder.

“After Mrs Hamilton” by Clare Ashton

I am honestly at a loss for words. However, there’s so much to say about After Mrs Hamilton… I just don’t know where to start. I am in love with this book. I could honestly start re-reading it right now. Actually, I feel like I must. I was so eager to reach to end, to connect the dots, to understand what was going on… I feel like I might have rushed the reading. I now need to slow down and give Clare Ashton’s words their time because they deserve it.

Speaking of Clare’s words, her writing is exceptionally visual. As I wrote about That Certain Something, it truly feels like you are watching a film. Better yet, it feels like you are living the film. And this one in particular is absolutely stunning. Even though the writing is rather simplistic in terms of flair, I can feel the texture of Fran’s coat under my fingertips, I can smell her perfume, I can taste Clo’s mini treacle toffee puddings with sauce inside… Sigh. Incredible indeed. It’s as if her words made a pact to dress plainly alone and stand glamorously together. It’s… enchanting. For some reason it makes me think of melted chocolate.

You will perhaps not find me quoting from this book, but you will certainly find me talking about these characters. They are so strong in my mind. The portraits Clare Ashton painted of them don’t falter, not even for a moment. They truly exist and are incredibly human. And the way they all come together… Sigh. It’s quite an experience.

I read something interesting about the intricate events that take place in this book. Someone called them unbelievable coincidences. I believe it was meant as negative feedback, but to be honest it sounded to me more like a standing ovation. For isn’t unbelievable coincidence a term we use when something not expected happens and/or surprisingly works out? To be quite honest, I am in awe of how Clare Ashton made it all work out in the end. I think I would have gotten lost writing this novel.

After Mrs Hamilton has everything. There’s mystery, desire, there’s grief, there’s love… and they come together beautifully, leaving an imprint that I believe will last for quite some time.

“Lost Time” by D.L. Orton

Diego was meant to go back in time to try and stop a deadly virus from killing the world’s population. Instead of waking up in the past though, he seems to have made it to the future… and in a parallel universe. Is there still hope for his mission?

I must confess I was slightly worried about starting Lost Time after having finished Crossing in Time over a year ago. All it took was one chapter, though. Honestly, it felt as if I had never stopped reading in the first place. The consistency is beyond extraordinary. Even though we’re traveling across time and space, it feels so congruent that it opens doors to probability. I believe that to be a testament to D.L. Orton’s skill. I am no longer reading from the realm of incredulity, I have comfortably moved to the one of possibility. This change creates a flow between the reader and the text that makes bonding with this story, with these characters, something that happens naturally and that requires no rationalization whatsoever.

I will never grow tired of saying how exceptionally clever this saga is. The original premise has developed into an intricate series of events that seem to flawlessly blend with one another as layers of an immense composition ironically named reality.

Imagine you are given a puzzle with an endless number of pieces. It’s overwhelming at first, you having absolutely no idea of where to start. The Between Two Evils saga is that puzzle, but with a twist. All you have to do is acknowledge the pieces and then watch them come together, becoming a whole − and what a whole it is! I don’t know how D.L. Orton does it, but there are no loose ends. Everything plays a part.

“If you don’t take the time to do it right, how are you going to find the time to do it over?”

Not only is Lost Time intriguing, it manages to be interesting without feeling at all dense. I think the epic references to pop culture, that go from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Harry Potter, and the incredibly written humor are to blame for the delightful dispersion that will keep you floating, even when submerged.

If you liked A Vision of Fire and/or The Martian, I believe you will feel right at home with the Crossing in Time and Lost Time.

“The Left Hand of Darkness” by Ursula K. Le Guin

I must start with a confession: this book has always scared me. Having read quite a lot about it, I guess in my head it just started growing out of proportion. Will I be able to grasp it, I couldn’t help but wonder.

The other day though, having just finished a book by Rainbow Rowell, I felt brave. I thought the time had come to see for myself what everyone else kept talking about. It was… not quite what I was expecting, but interesting nonetheless.

I found The Left Hand of Darkness to be quite easy to read. The writing has a rather enchanting rhythm to it and moments of true beauty. You can tell, right from the introduction, that there’s something really special about Ursula K. Le Guin – and it’s pretty visible, if not almost palpable, throughout the text.

About the storyline, I must say that I was expecting something a bit more… groundbreaking. The discussion of gender and androgyny is indeed curious, but it’s far from being the sun around which this novel orbits. It’s certainly a piece of the main puzzle, but I do believe if you go out of our way to find it you will end up missing quite a lot of curious details.

“Yes. There’s really only one question that can be answered, Genry, and we already know the answer… The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainly: not knowing what comes next.”

At the end of the day I would say that The Left Hand of Darkness is a novel about acceptance… and quite a beautiful love story.

“The House at the End of Hope Street” by Menna van Praag

The House at the End of Hope Street is not a place you will consciously walk by. It’s also not a place you will acknowledge with wonder as you walk past. Instead, The House at the End of Hope Street is where you will find yourself when you are one step away from infinite darkness. Once it opens its doors to you, you have ninety-nine days to find your way. You will not have to do it on your own, though. The house and its inhabitants will help you find the strength in yourself.

Speaking of inhabitants, we are not only talking about Peggy, Carmen, Greer and Alba. The walls of The House at the End of Hope Street are covered by portraits of previous guests that now breathe through them, sharing their knowledge – and sometimes bickering with one another. There’s Sylvia Plath, Dorothy Parker, Agatha Christie, Daphne du Maurier, Virginia Woolf… Along with the ghost from the Abbot who first opened the house, they are the ones running the show.

“I thought it was supposed to take care of people, I thought it was supposed to help.”
“It does its best,” Stella says. “But it can’t save everyone. It shows people the way, it gives them a little nudge now and then, but the house can’t do everything. And some people don’t have what it takes to be happy. It’s not an easy thing, you know. It takes great courage and determination, to keep looking for light in all the darkness of life.”

I really enjoyed how Menna van Praag made the magic approachable. Even though the house did help these women, or at least tried, the steps were still the women’s to take. I believe that is why the book seems to exhale hope at every word. Even though there’s no such house in reality, authors do still talk to us through books. So maybe finding our way is not such an impossible mission…

“You’re gorgeous. You glow. You’re lit from within.”
Peggy brushes a wisp of white hair out of her eyes. “Does that illuminate all my wrinkles?”
Harry nods. “So I can see every smile you’ve ever had, I can hear the echoes of every giggle.”

Full of delicious recommendations that will certainly keep me busy for a long time, The House at the End of Hope Street is definitely a must read. There’s mystery, romance, literature, a very particular sense of humour… I believe there’s a little bit of everything for everyone. Oh, and what seems to be the world’s greatest chocolate cake.