In a letter to his mother, Little Dog shares his story, his experience as the son of a Vietnamese woman who has lived through a terrible war, and has come to America with her own mother who has also suffered greatly. Little Dog communicates his own trauma, growing up in an abusive and impoverished household. When he falls in love with his coworker, as a teenager, it is the first time he feels seen, appreciated for who he really is. We learn how this both opens up his world and creates more heartache for Little Dog.
I am conflicted over this book. On one hand, the writing is extraordinarily poetic. The language is, at times, beautiful – creating images, experiences for the reader that are vivid and tactile. Little Dog relays tender moments with his grandmother, who seeks beauty where she can find it. He paints terrifying scenes of abuse at the hands of his mother.
On the other hand, the author also jumps from timeline to timeline, from narrative to narrative – occasionally within the very same paragraph – and it is incredibly confusing to follow. We never know if the next sentence will refer to a time in Vietnam or in Hartford, CT, if it will be describing a scene he has experienced or something his grandmother has survived. The subject/story line shifts as frequently as the pages turn. I appreciate a volley between perspectives, dates; but here it happens without any transition and much too often. It is just too confusing.
There is, underneath it all, a powerful story of generational trauma. But it is quite a bit of work to get there.
I rarely reread novels because generally I feel there is so little time and so many books – but this one is an exception. I have already reviewed this novel previously (please search my former review), and I stand by my initial recommendation as a MUST READ.
There are few novels written with such insight, such kindness, and such a generous outlook on the foibles of mankind as this one. The character embodied in the Count is utterly endearing, for his humility, his wisdom, and his humor. While he has been accustomed to wealth and opportunity, he also, shaped as we learn by his grandmother, has a deep appreciation for everyone, no matter their station in life, no matter their role. And so, even as he is sentenced to house arrest (albeit in the nicest hotel in Moscow), he befriends most of the staff, the guests, and even finds a helpful role for himself so that he may be productive. Still we see his most tender aspect as we observe his interactions with the children he befriends and cares for. He treats even then with the utmost respect – and earns theirs in return (along with most others’ as well).
We can all learn so much from his character – and from this incredible novel that I might just read again at some point!
Pauline and Thomas Bright have uprooted their young family from their rural tobacco farm to the city of Philadelphia. The Great War is still raging and yet it feels like the right move. They have just suffered the loss of their youngest child from a heart defect and a fresh start might be just what they need. Moreover, there is opportunity, as Thomas’s uncle Fred has agreed to bring him into his funeral home business and, as Uncle Fred is himself a bachelor, he has plenty of room in his large home for the Bright family. When the Spanish flu descends upon the city, it wreaks havoc on the family, however. On the other hand, it also brings new joy, in the form of baby Alex.
This is an emotional piece of historical fiction, blending the impact of both the first World War and the Spanish flu pandemic – a mighty double blow to our country. While we have the Covid pandemic fresh in all our minds, we forget that we have been here before, coping with a terrifying disease for which we have no immediate cure or vaccine, and from which there were thousands of deaths. While science has moved forward quite a bit since the Spanish flu, and we do have flu vaccines, this story reminds us that we never know what may be around the corner, lurking and waiting to challenge our knowledge, challenge our resources.**
That said, the story on the whole is well-written, providing details through a rotating narration, predominantly via the three remaining sisters in the Bright family. They are poignant characters, both vivid and endearing. Evie, the eldest is the most academic, setting her sights on medicine as a career. Maggie is more the maternal one, interested in helping her mother prepare the bodies for visitation. And the youngest, Willa, gradually finds her (musical) voice and seeks pleasure where she can find it. We come to love them, root for them, and pray for their happiness.
Not quite a “MUST READ” but this novel will move you and engage you.
**Which is why it is terrifying that our current administration has cut back on research funding, particularly for vaccine research. One would imagine that having had such a recent pandemic, we’d be smarter than this…!
It’s early 1980’s and Ada suspects something is going on with her father, David. She knows they’ve always been different – it’s clear from the way in which their friends/neighbors, Liston and her family, are so “normal” and opposite from them in almost every way. Liston’s children go to school whereas she is homeschooled. Liston’s children are noisy, socialize with friends, and are shown physical affection regularly. But although David is not like others, she adores him for his brilliance, his inclusion of her in his work, and the example he has set. But after a lapse from David during a social gathering in his home to welcome his new graduate students into his lab, Ada senses that things will be different now – perhaps forever.
This novel, while not as wildly stirring as the author’s more famous one, The God of the Woods, is a more subtly powerful one: it confronts the devastation of Alzheimer’s Disease, the early origins of the AI bot, homophobia, and what it feels like to be “different” as a child. Ada’s story is told in two time frames – one beginning in the early 80’s and the other beginning in 2009, after she’s grown. We first meet her at the age of 12, and are privy to reflections on her unusual childhood of being homeschooled and taken in as part of the workforce in an academic computer lab. She socializes with grownups, she only knows the parenting of David, immersed in the culture of solving puzzles, challenging the mind, science and nature. Yet she is beginning to long for peer relationships. What would it be like to have a friend her age? What would it be like to go to school? The thought terrifies and intrigues her in equal parts. Sadly, as David’s heath declines, she is soon thrust into the “normal” world and has to figure out a way to survive while still holding onto the David she adores.
The intrigue comes when David is exposed as not being who he has claimed to be. His story has always been that he’s a disowned heir to a famous New York City family, yet as his health declines, and his estate is transferred over to Liston until Ada reaches legal age, there are discrepancies that come to light. This upends Ada’s world, leaving her angry, confused, and feeling abandoned. What we learn about David is unsurprising and still devastatingly sad.
This is absolutely a worthwhile read. It is both a peek into our past and a projection into our future, written with both heart and scientific insight.
Sonia is a grad student at an elite college in Vermont. Sunny is an aspiring journalist, working as an editor of news articles in New York. Their lives cross when they each return to India, as their complicated families become connected. There is something of a spark between them – they both feel it. But will their respective demons continue to obstruct their being together?
Somehow, this novel has made it to multiple favorite lists of 2026 and I am a fair bit stunned as to why. Perhaps I am not literary or sophisticated enough to appreciate it, but I found this book to be simply too much work. I could not wait for it to be finished. At its core, there is a valuable story with relevant themes of identity, family, and the immigrant experience. But the author seemed to have sought a way to use 100 words to say what he might have said in 25 – over and over again. In reaching too high for the poetic and the symbolic, the author lost me with with what felt merely aspirational.
An example of this is a tool the author favored: writing a sentence followed by the expression of the opposite. This occurred more times than I could count. If he had utilized this once or twice, it might have carried more weight, might have been thought-provoking. The overuse of this negated its potential profundity. Similarly, the author utilized dreams to communicate the struggle of characters. But, again, overuse of this became tiresome. The reader is kept waiting for something to happen… anything.
The one positive aspect of this tome is that we are exposed to the Indian experience of battling the cultural contrast between their homeland and the US. This is portrayed as both vast and challenging. Both Sunny and Sonia have lived in both countries, but feel somewhat disconnected even as they strive to be more American. I believe their loneliness comes from not only not being with each other, but being away from their family, their home.
I am curious to hear other viewpoints, to know if I am alone in feeling as I do about this book. Any thoughts?
One might imagine that in the small town of Bonhomie, OH, it would be hard to keep secrets – even in the early 1940’s, as the town is distracted by the second World War. Nevertheless, Cal and Becky Jenkins, are drifting apart because of differences and broken confidences, and secrets are fomenting between them. Likewise, Felix and Margaret Salt, separated by Felix’s service overseas, are also harboring secrets of their own. How their secrets collide is at the heart of this drama and the tension arises from whether or not they will reveal their respective truths.
There is quite a bit of hype surrounding this novel, as it is on many lists of best books of 2025. I have to say that I am surprised by this, as I found it disappointing. While there are good ideas embedded here, with quite a bit of interesting potential, I found the writing to be flat, the characters not well-developed, and the whole story written almost as if it were a chore to be gotten over with. Dialogue, if present, is completely trite, with so little passing between characters that I wonder why they bother with each other (I wouldn’t). Even when there are supposedly “tender” moments, they are so bland they could pass completely under the radar.
The only character with any color at all, in fact, is Cal’s father, Everett, who is considered a bit wacky by everyone else. He has survived serving in the first World War, and is thrilled that Cal cannot serve in the second because of his leg length discrepancy (something Cal is ashamed of). He has had multiple life traumas and copes by drinking, hoarding, and essentially living as a loner. But he regularly types out letters to the President of the United States that actually articulate (perhaps not in the prettiest language) more sense than most of his more “esteemed” peers, voicing his anti-war, anti-prejudice, and pro-democracy values.
I know others liked this one more than I did – I would love to know why/how. If you’re willing to comment, I’d love to hear your opinion! In the meantime, I am stumped.
When four former classmates turn up in their Pennsylvania hometown on the same night in 2013, we learn how their high school experience in a town impacted by both the Great Recession of 2008 and by the opioid epidemic, has had a formative and mostly devastating impact on their respective lives. One copes with substances, one by escaping into the military, another by traveling the world, and the latter not really coping at all.
This is a brutally honest depiction of how the convergence of the economic disaster of 2008 and the opioid crisis has impacted a generation of young folks. Even those characters with talent or high intellect had challenges because of their low middle class status and lack of cultural capital. They lacked the the connections, the mentorship, the folks who believed in them and who might lead them to achieve their higher goals. With a few noteworthy exceptions, the adults around them were too preoccupied with their own struggles to be supportive or encouraging.
The writing here is outstanding. It is a hard narrative, replete with painful images, but it is powerful and gritty and truly the only way to tell this story. The rotating perspective is also extremely effective. As we learn more and more through each character, the story builds and adds tension, and the climax is both shocking and satisfying.
I recommend this novel, but it is not for the feint-hearted. It is a tragic story, with graphic scenes. But it is honest, vivid, and authentic.
Three women in three different time periods: Aurelie in 1914, Daisy in 1942, and Barbara (“Babs”) in 1964 – all connected through unknown ties at The Ritz in Paris. Each trying to survive the havoc that has been wreaked upon their lives because of war and keeping safe an heirloom that is thought to bring safety to France. Each trying to find her place in the world. And each finding that love wins out every time.
If you’ve read any of my posts, you know that I am a HUGE fan of Beatriz Williams’s books, and this older one of hers is no exception. While these characters are not quite as snarky as hers usually are, they are still sharp, kind, and utterly likable. We are caught up in each of their stories, puzzling how they’re connected, and rooting for them as they each battle their challenges. And as each story builds in tension, the switch to the alternate plot line serves to both relieve tension when it becomes taut. But switching also builds suspense, as we must wait further to learn the fate of our beloved characters. Nevertheless, the connections and the intersections gradually come to light, and we get the very satisfying “aha” moments we crave.
As usual, for this author – and her co-authors – this novel is masterfully constructed, artistically drawn, and hard to part with when it ends. Once again, I am in awe of her writing and can’t wait to read the next one!
Addie Baum has been asked by her granddaughter to relay her life story, and, as this is her favorite granddaughter (Shhh! It’s their secret!), she of course complies. She begins her tale with the story of her own parents as they immigrate from Russia, bringing with them trauma that continues to hangs over them and their children. In searching for an outlet from this stressful home life, Addie finds her way to the Saturday Club, a weekly gathering of young girls of varying backgrounds and cultures. When they head out for a weeklong escape to Rockport, MA, Addie sneaks out of her home to join them, and forms friendships that last her lifetime.
What I love most about this tender and heartfelt story is the voice through which it is told. Between the expressions and the phrasing, I can literally hear my own Jewish grandmothers speaking the words written here. The way Addie expresses her love for her granddaughter, the way she excuses herself when she feels she’s behaved, perhaps, unexpectedly, or when she speaks of something she feels guilt for – it all rings so sweetly familiar.
But it’s also a common, generalizable, second generation experience. Addie feels a constant tension between respecting and seeking the approval from her mother, in particular, and needing to reach outside the family for love, guidance, and a way to find her true self. She carries her mother’s trauma because her mother can’t let it go and she simultaneously cannot live with it because it is toxic. Fortunately for Addie, she does find both mentors and friends who she can rely on for safety, advice, and sheer reason, and she learns to navigate through life, utilizing these connections to help herself and to help others.
It’s a truly lovely story. Highly recommend this one!
Ellie, aged 7, has just lost her father and feels as if her whole world has changed. She and her mother can no longer stay in their enormous home in the center of Tehran and must move to the “down” side of town. Nevertheless, while her mother is distraught over this and worries about their place in society, Ellie is actually excited to see children playing in the street, thrilled at the possibility of learning to play hopscotch, and dreams of meeting her ideal, best friend. When she walks in on the first day of her new school and is greeted by a spunky girl with dark, curly hair who shocks her with her outgoing nature, she thinks that this is not who she imagines will be her best friend. Ellie learns quickly that Homa, this warm, bright, honest, and fiercely loyal girl might just be that very friend.
This is a beautiful story of friendship, hardship, and loyalty. The two unlikely friends, Ellie and Homa, are as different as two girls might be – but perhaps it is because of this that they are amused by each other and get along. Ellie, self-aware in her materialism and superficiality, is nevertheless caught up in their friendship and feels a bond with Homa in spite of her absence of passion for the politics of the day. Nevertheless, she admires Homa – and is worried for her – for her passion and strength in seeking to promote human rights, particularly women’s rights. This is at the heart of both their friendship and their schism.
I actually love the way Ellie portrays herself as superficial, wanting what many want, and being self-aware about it. She is terrified of having to go back to being dependent on someone to pay her bills, to live in squalor, to have to need/want. She fears poverty, lack of power. And she admits to being afraid of being imprisoned, as we all are, at heart. So many novels are written with the main character as the brave one, the fighter, the hero. I love that in this one, the main character is the one who is the worrier, the caregiver, the friend. She is the one who has faults, is honorable, honest, and self aware, but who is supportive and can be helpful when the time is right. While many are brave and undertake righteous causes, fighting for freedom against oppressive and suppressive governments (such as that of the Shah’s and later that of the Ayatollah’s), not everyone is meant for that. I think that by creating an admirable, honorable, human and faulty main character for this tale, we can perhaps see ourselves identifying with that fear and relate to those that can help, those who support the heroes, the fighters.
This also gives a background to the story of the women of Iran. It is not only a historical context but a warning to all of us. It happened in Iran with extremists who toppled a democratically elected government, violently forcing themselves into power and overturning years of fighting for women’s rights in just moments. We in the US think we are so safe from this, but here we are, already fighting for power to make medical decisions over our own bodies. It starts there. Where will it end? If it happened in Iran, it can happen here as well.
I think this is an important read for not only women but men everywhere, and particularly here in the US and particularly now in this uncertain moment. We are experiencing no less than an undoing of our democracy in small (and not-so-small) steps. We need to pay attention and learn from other countries and other individuals’ experiences. Or there may be no where else to go…
kindread spirits 