I had to laugh as I started writing this review to see that in the March, 2022 issue of L & L, I wrote a Not My Cup of Tea about Facing the Mountain, also by Daniel James Brown (read review here). I guess I keep hoping I’ll find another book of Brown’s I will enjoy as much as The Boys in the Boat. Unfortunately, The Indifferent Stars Above is not that book.
I sometimes wonder with books like The Midnight Library, which are on so many bestseller lists and have been recommended by so many people, if my disappointment when I read them comes from unrealistic expectations. Haig has a great premise for the book.
Disappear Doppleganger starts out as a clever undertaking by its narrator, Matt Kim, to identify the phenomenon causing him to feel like he is disappearing. Reeling from his wife and daughter leaving him and his cat dying, he finds people increasingly ignoring him at work and bumping into him in public places. Just as he manages to convince his girlfriend, Yumi, that this is truly happening, she encounters someone who looks exactly like her.
I feel silly saying that Kazuo Ishiguro’s newest book was not my cup of tea. I mean, who am I to critique an author whose last book won the Pulitzer Prize in Literature? Part of me feels ridiculous even daring to share such an opinion. Klara and the Sun appears on many 2021 Best Books lists.
I am generally a Kristin Hannah fan: I loved The Nightingale and The Great Alone. But she missed the mark with The Four Winds. In the book, Hannah tells the story of Elsa Wolcott, an unloved, unattractive, aging young woman forced to marry a man she hardly knows to legitimize the baby they’d unwittingly conceived.
John Irving is an incredible writer—I don’t think many readers would debate that fact. However, I found In One Person failed to hold my attention like his other novels. As in many of Irving’s books, In One Person paints an intimate portrait of a man—this time a young man exploring his bisexual “crushes” at an all-male boarding school in Vermont in the early 60s.
I never know when I feel disappointed after reading a book like The Other Black Girl if that comes from having heard so much about the book before reading it. There had been so much hype. I really wanted to read it. Did I have unrealistic expectations? To be clear: there were many aspects of the novel that I admired.
A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara’s breakout novel published in 2015, was a masterpiece – one of the best novels I’ve read in the last few years. For that reason, I suggested that my husband and I read The People in The Trees, Yanagihara’s earlier book, as our read-aloud selection. At 467 pages, it was an undertaking, one which turned out to take grit and determination to finish.
I wasn’t sure if The Illuminations was going to be my Not My Cup Of Tea this month because I didn’t actively dislike it. It was fine. But honestly, if we are going to spend our energy telling you what you should read, then I figured I could take a paragraph and tell you that this is one to skip!
One of the joys of reading a good book by an author new to me, is going back and reading previous books by that author. Not long ago I read The River by Peter Heller (reviewed in January 21, 2021 L&L) and loved everything about the book: the poetic writing style, the vivid descriptions of nature, the relationship between the book’s main characters.
Here I Am is set in present day D.C. and mainly follows the disintegration of a marriage over the course of several months. In the process, old wounds resurface and bad decisions are re-lived. The couple’s three sons deal with the rift in their own ways, but with no one addressing the real issues, the fractures go deeper and deeper.
I am certain that one of the several reasons that I was disappointed in Pachinko is because my expectations were so high. Friends who are avid readers, book store salespeople and random people who saw me holding the book in pubic all assured me how much I would enjoy it.
Although this book predates Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by six years, I read it second and it suffered mightily in comparison. Both books are about young-ish women living in London, working in fairly dead-end jobs, and isolated from a normal social life by a past trauma and psychological difficulties.
Humor is a funny thing. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist that.) Either I find someone funny or I don’t. Alas, I have discovered that I don’t find Bill Bryson particularly funny. To read an entire collection of essays, which Bryson has pulled together and called a memoir, had me grinding my teeth by the book’s end.
When I recommended Jodi Picoult’s newest book to one of my book club’s for this month’s read, I felt sure that we would find an entertaining, not-too-taxing read in which believable people confront real problems and work to overcome them. That, in a tiny nutshell, is how I think of Picoult’s books. Don’t get me wrong: I read almost all of them. They can be a balm when all you want to read is a good, relatable human drama.
I want to begin this review by saying that this is an incredibly well-written book and it deserves much of the praise it has received. I’m certainly not claiming to know more than the Nobel committee or my mom and fellow reviewer who loved it (review here). That said, it was really not my cup of tea.
I was eagerly awaiting Courtney Sullivan’s new book Friends and Strangers for months before it came out. She’s one of my “go-to” authors: I just know that I’m going to love her new books because I’ve loved all of her past books. Only this time, she let me down. Friends and Strangers is perfectly readable. It just didn’t pull me in and keep me there like her past novels.
If judging a book by its blurb ever worked, this would seem like the perfect one for me. It’s a coming of age story about a young woman at a performing arts high school. She falls in and out of love with a classmate, with acting and with theatre education as a concept. But this book is boring and kind of dumb.
