#BlogTour! The Women of Pearl Island by Polly Crosby

I had the pleasure of reading Polly Crosby’s other novel, The Book of Hidden Wonders and fell in love with her ability to weave together dreamy and magical stories. So it is my great pleasure to share with you an excerpt from Polly Crosby’s new novel, The Women of Pearl Island.

ONE

Tartelin

Summer 2018

“I do not require diaper changing, I do not require spoon-feeding, I do not require my ego massaging. What I do require is someone with a deft pair of hands. I asked for someone with experience in dealing with little things, delicate things. A scientist, perhaps. Is that you?”

I nod.

“Show me your hands, then, child.”

I hold them out, palm side downward, and she wheels herself over and inspects them. Her own hands, I see now, have a tremor.

“You’re a pretty girl,” she says, her eyes drifting over my face, glancing off my cheek, and I feel my skin redden. “Not very robust, though. Are you sure this is the right job for you?” I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off. “What did you do, before you came here? How is it that you are suited to this vacancy?”

I frown. We went over all this in our letters, back and forth, back and forth. Written on paper, not sent by email, each one signed Miss Marianne Stourbridge in her regimented, barbed-wire scrawl. My life back home was the reason she chose me. But then, she is old, and she can’t be expected to remember everything.

“I grew up around my mother’s artwork, helping her out in her studio,” I say, more loudly than I mean to. “And then I went to art school myself. Mum’s work was focused on found objects, making art from bits of nature…feathers, leaves and twigs—”

“Lepidoptera aren’t ‘bits of nature,’ Miss Brown.”

“She also made sculptures out of grains of rice in her spare time. I helped her.”

“Why on earth would anyone do that?” She leaves the ques-tion hanging in the air and turns her chair abruptly, wheeling herself back to her desk.

The chair is made from cane. It looks like an antique, and I’m surprised it still works. It must be exhausting to propel.

“It’s a shame you don’t have a scientific background, but now you’re here, you’ll have to do. Here, hold this.” She lifts a pair of gold tweezers into the air and I hasten forward and take them. “No, not like that. Pinch. Gently. That’s it.”

I adjust my hold and feel how the spring of the tines is like an extension of my fingers, and I’m back with my mother and she’s saying, “Careful, Tartelin, don’t squeeze too hard. Feather barbs bruise easily.” But before I can use this new-found body part, the tweezers are whisked away from me, and she’s turning again to the desk and bending over her work. I stand by her side and wait, wondering if I’m allowed to go. The clock on the mantel chimes loudly. I count eight. I look at my watch. It’s ten past two.

Miss Stourbridge? Shall I adjust your clock?”

“No point. It’ll only go back to eight o’clock.”

I look over at it, frowning. The second hand is juddering in jerky movements. It makes me dizzy to look at it, as if it’s mea-suring a different kind of time. I turn back to my employer.

Miss Stourbridge is so still as she works. I can see her teas-ing the body of a dead moth from a cocoon, her fingers mov-ing infinitesimally slowly. I look around the room. It is lined in dark panels of wood, and every surface has frames and frames of butterflies and moths, glinting pins plunged into husked bodies.

“Did you catch all these butterflies?”

She is silent, and at first I think she hasn’t heard me. But then I see she’s holding her breath so as not to disturb the moth’s delicate wings. I watch closely, the clock ticking behind us. I’m looking not at her work but at her ribs, waiting for them to inflate, waiting for her nostrils to swell, anything that shows air is passing into her chest. My eyes sting from the pain of staring. She is so still that she has become a part of the chair she sits in. Only her finger and thumb move ach-ingly slowly, and the minutes tick by.

When I was young, I used to try to be as still as she is now. My mother would sit me on her knee and tell me stories, and I would hold myself as still as a statue, bewitched by her tales.

“Long ago,” she always began, in a voice that was reserved only for when the moon was rising, “I was a tiny jellied spawn no bigger than a pearl, floating in the earth’s great oceans. The fish nibbled and swallowed my brothers and sisters up, snap, snap, snap, and I was left, coming at last to rest on the pebbled shore of a beach. And that is how I came to have these,” she would say, waving her hands in front of my face, so close that they skimmed my eyelashes and all I could see was the thin layer of webbed skin between each finger. To my unprejudiced four-year-old eyes, the webs were not a deformity: they were beautiful, useful, magical, and I wished with all my heart that I could be like her, could be from the sea.

I take my eyes from the poor moth on the desk and look over Miss Stourbridge’s head to the picture window that frames the sea beyond, and I remember anew that the sea surrounds us here, like a comforting arm holding the world at bay. A feeling of calm settles over me. However strange this woman is, whatever my job might entail, it was the right decision to come here, I can feel it.

I had seen the advertisement in one of Mum’s ornithologi-cal magazines. Mum bought them for the photographs. She particularly liked the close-ups of the birds’ eyes and feathers. The magazines were littered throughout our house, spattered with drops of paint, pages ripped out and twisted together into the vague forms of gulls and robins so that every surface was covered in paper birds made of paper birds.

But the latest magazine had landed on the doormat, pris-tine and untouched, and when I shook it from its clear plastic covering, it had fallen open on the ad.

PA required to assist lepidopterist. Must be able to start immedi-ately. Must not be squeamish.

When I had written to ask for more information, the return address had intrigued me.

Dogger Bank House, Dohhalund.

Dohhalund. An unusual word, not English-sounding at all. A bit of research showed me that it was a tiny island off the East Anglian coast, the long thin shape of it reminiscent of a fish leaping out of the water. Its heritage was a mixture of English and Dutch. When I looked at it on a map on my phone, it had seemed so small that I imagined you could walk its circumference in only a few hours. I had tried to picture what kind of an island it would be: a cold, hard rock grizzled with the droppings of thousands of seabirds, or a flat stretch of white sand, waiting for my footprints? Whatever it turned out to be, the isolation of it appealed to me.

Miss Stourbridge’s letters had been vague about the posi-tion she was offering, but she did tell me, rather proudly, that the island had belonged to her family for hundreds of years. While I wait, I look about the room, searching for photo-graphs, evidence of other people. Where is her family now?

I shift my weight carefully from foot to foot and I glance at my watch. Two twenty-three. Thirteen minutes. I wonder if I’m being paid to stand and do nothing. I look around the room. Next to the desk is a large clear glass box. Inside hang rows and rows of cocoons of all different shapes and sizes. One or two are twitching. I turn away with a sting of shame, feel-ing somehow as if I’ve looked at something I shouldn’t have.

Over by the window, there is a huge black telescope on a stand. Unlike everything else in this place, it looks very mod-ern. Next to it on the windowsill sits a battered pair of bin-oculars on a worn leather strap.

Quietly I back toward the chaise longue in the corner and lower myself onto its tattered silk cover. It’s the first time I’ve sat down in hours, and my body sings with relief. I edge my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone. It’s switched off: the battery ran low somewhere off the coast of Norfolk at around the same time that the signal disappeared. The lack of signal hadn’t worried me: I’d been looking forward to charg-ing my phone when I arrived, tapping in Miss Stourbridge’s Wi-Fi code, the friendly glow of my phone’s screen a com-fort in this new place.

I look around for an outlet in the room, and with a sudden slick shiver I find I can’t see any. There must be electricity here, surely. But if not… Realization runs through me like a thrill: if there’s no electricity in this house, there won’t be any Wi-Fi either. And with no signal, there’s no way of contacting the outside world. No way for the outside world to contact me. The roar of the sea appears to amplify through

I take my eyes from the poor moth on the desk and look over Miss Stourbridge’s head to the picture window that frames the sea beyond, and I remember anew that the sea surrounds us here, like a comforting arm holding the world at bay. A feeling of calm settles over me. However strange this woman is, whatever my job might entail, it was the right de-cision to come here, I can feel it.

I had seen the advertisement in one of Mum’s ornithologi-cal magazines. Mum bought them for the photographs. She particularly liked the close-ups of the birds’ eyes and feathers. The magazines were littered throughout our house, spattered with drops of paint, pages ripped out and twisted together into the vague forms of gulls and robins so that every surface was covered in paper birds made of paper birds.

But the latest magazine had landed on the doormat, pris-tine and untouched, and when I shook it from its clear plastic covering, it had fallen open on the ad.

PA required to assist lepidopterist. Must be able to start immedi-ately. Must not be squeamish.

When I had written to ask for more information, the return address had intrigued me.

Dogger Bank House, Dohhalund.

Dohhalund. An unusual word, not English-sounding at all. A bit of research showed me that it was a tiny island off the East Anglian coast, the long thin shape of it reminiscent of a fish leaping out of the water. Its heritage was a mixture of English and Dutch. When I looked at it on a map on my phone, it had seemed so small that I imagined you could walk its circumference in only a few hours. I had tried to picture what kind of an island it would be: a cold, hard rock grizzled with the droppings of thousands of seabirds, or a flat stretch of white sand, waiting for my footprints? Whatever it turned out to be, the isolation of it appealed to me.

Excerpted from The Women of Pearl Island by Polly Crosby, Copyright © 2021 by Polly Crosby. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

Author Bio: 

Polly Crosby grew up on the Suffolk coast, and now lives deep in the Norfolk countryside. THE BOOK OF HIDDEN WONDERS was awarded runner up in the Bridport Prize's Peggy Chapman Andrews Award for a First Novel, and Polly also won Curtis Brown Creative's Yesterday Scholarship, which enabled her to finish the novel. She currently holds the Annabel Abbs Scholarship at the University of East Anglia, where she is studying part time for an MA in Creative Writing. THE WOMEN OF PEARL ISLAND is her second novel.

THE WOMEN OF PEARL ISLAND

Author: Polly Crosby

ISBN: 9780778311140

Publication Date: December 7, 2021

Publisher: Park Row Books

Buy Links: 

BookShop.org

Harlequin 

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powell’s 

Social Links:

Author Website

Twitter: @WriterPolly

Instagram: @ polly_crosby

Facebook: @pollycrosbyauthor 

Goodreads

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Blog Tour!!! The Last Story of Mina Lee by Nancy Jooyoun Kim

Available September 1, 2020 from Park Row Books

Reader Friends, I am so excited to share one of the most beautiful stories I have read this year. Nancy Jooyoun Kim gives the story of two women, mother and daughter, and the heartbreaking secrets that define their relationship. I loved how the two perspectives are intertwined into a compelling and gripping story of love, loss, and how inner strength can look so vastly different to different people. This is a fascinating tale of immigrating to the United States and the stresses that come with it. From securing housing and a job, to learning how to use a grocery store and public transportation, adjusting to a new country seems incredibly daunting. The way that Mina Lee was able to do that, all while mourning the devastating loss of her husband and daughter is amazing. Seeing her bravery and fortitude, over and over, and then to see how her daughter interpreted her mother’s actions was so interesting. Mina Lee held her former life and immigration experience so tightly that Margot never knew the extent of her mother’s experiences. Watching Margot slowly unfold the many layers of her mother’s life was both heartbreaking and beautiful. Reading this as a mother, I thought often about the many things I will never tell my son. Our drive to always protect our children will always keep a part of ourselves secret to them.

This is a gorgeous and compelling story that I know many of you will love. Read on for an excerpt and all the details you need to get a copy for yourself.

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Margot

2014

Margot's final conversation with her mother had seemed so uneventful, so ordinary—another choppy bilingual plod. Half-understandable.

Business was slow again today. Even all the Korean businesses downtown are closing.

What did you eat for dinner?

Everyone is going to Target now, the big stores. It costs the same and it's cleaner.

Margot imagined her brain like a fishing net with the loosest of weaves as she watched the Korean words swim through. She had tried to tighten the net before, but learning another language, especially her mother's tongue, frustrated her. Why didn't her mother learn to speak English?

But that last conversation was two weeks ago. And for the past few days, Margot had only one question on her mind: Why didn't her mother pick up the phone?

****

Since Margot and Miguel had left Portland, the rain had been relentless and wild. Through the windshield wipers and fogged glass, they only caught glimpses of fast food and gas stations, motels and billboards, premium outlets and "family fun centers." Margot’s hands were stiff from clenching the steering wheel. The rain had started an hour ago, right after they had made a pit stop in north Portland to see the famous 31-foot-tall Paul Bunyan sculpture with his cartoonish smile, red-and-white checkered shirt on his barrel chest, his hands resting on top of an upright axe.

Earlier that morning, Margot had stuffed a backpack and a duffel with a week's worth of clothes, picked up Miguel from his apartment with two large suitcases and three houseplants, and merged onto the freeway away from Seattle, driving Miguel down for his big move to Los Angeles. They'd stop in Daly City to spend the night at Miguel's family's house, which would take about ten hours to get to. At the start of the drive, Miguel had been lively, singing along to "Don't Stop Believing" and joking about all the men he would meet in LA. But now, almost four hours into the road trip, Miguel was silent with his forehead in his palm, taking deep breaths as if trying hard not to think about anything at all.

"Everything okay?" Margot asked.

"I'm just thinking about my parents."

"What about your parents?" Margot lowered her foot on the gas.

"Lying to them," he said.

"About why you're really moving down to LA?" The rain splashed down like a waterfall. Miguel had taken a job offer at an accounting firm in a location more conducive to his dreams of working in theatre. For the last two years, they had worked together at a nonprofit for people with disabilities. She was as an administrative assistant; he crunched numbers in finance. She would miss him, but she was happy for him, too. He would finally finish writing his play while honing his acting skills with classes at night. "The theatre classes? The plays that you write? The Grindr account?"

"About it all."

"Do you ever think about telling them?"

"All the time." He sighed. "But it's easier this way."

"Do you think they know?"

"Of course, they do. But..." He brushed his hand through his hair. "Sometimes, agreeing to the same lie is what makes a family family, Margot."

"Ha. Then what do you call people who agree to the same truth?"

"Uh, scientists?"

She laughed, having expected him to say friends. Gripping the wheel, she caught the sign for Salem.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" she asked.

"I'm okay. We're gonna stop in Eugene, right?"

"Yeah, should be another hour or so."

"I'm kinda hungry." Rustling in his pack on the floor of the backseat, he found an apple, which he rubbed clean with the edge of his shirt. "Want a bite?"

"Not now, thanks."

His teeth crunched into the flesh, the scent cracking through the odor of wet floor mats and warm vents. Margot was struck by a memory of her mother's serene face—the downcast eyes above the high cheekbones, the relaxed mouth—as she peeled an apple with a paring knife, conjuring a continuous ribbon of skin. The resulting spiral held the shape of its former life. As a child, Margot would delicately hold this peel like a small animal in the palm of her hand, this proof that her mother could be a kind of magician, an artist who told an origin story through scraps—this is the skin of a fruit, this is its smell, this is its color.

"I hope the weather clears up soon," Miguel said, interrupting the memory. "It gets pretty narrow and windy for a while. There's a scary point right at the top of California where the road is just zigzagging while you're looking down cliffs. It's like a test to see if you can stay on the road."

"Oh, God,” Margot said. “Let's not talk about it anymore."

As she refocused on the rain-slicked road, the blurred lights, the yellow and white lines like yarn unspooling, Margot thought about her mother who hated driving on the freeway, her mother who no longer answered the phone. Where was her mother?

The windshield wipers squeaked, clearing sheets of rain.

"What about you?" Miguel asked. "Looking forward to seeing your mom? When did you see her last?"

Margot's stomach dropped. "Last Christmas," she said. "Actually, I've been trying to call her for the past few days to let her know, to let her know that we would be coming down." Gripping the wheel, she sighed. "I didn't really want to tell her because I wanted this to be a fun trip, but then I felt bad, so..."

"Is everything okay?"

"She hasn't been answering the phone."

"Hmm." He shifted in his seat. "Maybe her phone battery died?"

"It's a landline. Both landlines—at work and at home."

"Maybe she's on vacation?"

"She never goes on vacation." The windshield fogged, revealing smudges and streaks, past attempts to wipe it clean. She cranked up the air inside.

"Hasn't she ever wanted to go somewhere?"

"Yosemite and the Grand Canyon. I don't know why, but she's always wanted to go there."

"It's a big ol' crack in the ground, Margot. Why wouldn't she want to see it? It's God's crack."

"It's some kind of Korean immigrant rite of passage. National Parks, reasons to wear hats and khaki, stuff like that. It's like America America."

"I bet she's okay,” Miguel said. “Maybe she's just been busier than usual, right? We'll be there soon enough."

"You're probably right. I'll call her again when we stop."

A heaviness expanded inside her chest. She fidgeted with the radio dial but caught only static with an occasional glimpse of a commercial or radio announcer's voice.

Her mother was fine. They would all be fine.

With Miguel in LA, she'd have more reasons to visit now.

The road lay before them like a peel of fruit. The windshield wipers hacked away the rivers that fell from the sky.

Excerpted from The Last Story of Mina Lee by Nancy Jooyoun Kim, Copyright © 2020 by Nancy Jooyoun Kim Published by Park Row Books

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THE LAST STORY OF MINA LEE

Author: Nancy Jooyoun Kim

ISBN: 9780778310174

Publication Date: September 1, 2020

Publisher: Park Row Books

Buy Links: 

Harlequin 

Barnes & Noble

Amazon

Books-A-Million

Powell’s

Social Links:

Author Website

Twitter: @njooyounkim

Instagram: @njooyounkim

Goodreads

Author Bio: 

Born and raised in Los Angeles, Nancy Jooyoun Kim is a graduate of UCLA and the MFA Creative Writing Program at the University of Washington, Seattle. Her work has appeared in the Los Angeles Review of Books, Guernica, The Rumpus, Electric Literature, Asian American Writers’ Workshop’s The Margins, The Offing, the blogs of Prairie Schooner and Kenyon Review, and elsewhere. Her essay, “Love (or Live Cargo),” was performed for NPR/PRI’s Selected Shorts in 2017 with stories by Viet Thanh Nguyen, Phil Klay, and Etgar Keret. THE LAST STORY OF MINA LEE is her first novel.

A big thank you to Park Row Books for providing an advanced copy of this title. All opinions and mistakes are my own.

Time After Time by Lisa Grunwald

Time After Time by Lisa Grunwald

Available June 11, 2019

Reader Friends, this book is beautiful.  Absolutely lovely in every way. From the clothes, to the city, to the way people speak to one another, it’s just lovely.  I’m also not going to apologize for my overuse of the word “lovely.”

On a beautiful December morning while on his way to a prayer meeting, Joe Reynolds meets a young woman wearing a disheveled dress, no coat, and looking completely out of place at the train station so early in the morning.  It’s when he stops to offer her assistance that he realizes something is slightly off. Her clothes don’t seem quite right, it’s too cold to not have a coat, and how did she get to the train station?

One year later, he sees her again.  The same Nora from a year ago. Same dress, same pearls, same perfume.  How is that possible and what is going on? Together, Nora and Joe begin a complicated and magical relationship revolving around her mystical appearance and the confines of the train station.  

This is one of the stories that the less you know, the more amazing it is.  The twists and turns are revealed slowly throughout the story and each one adds a complication that Joe and Nora deal with together with love and respect.  I really loved how the author made the city itself an integral part of the relationship. Grand Central made a gorgeous backdrop for this novel.  From the ladies’ lounge to the hotel, the restaurants and shops, the station provided everything Joe and Nora could need.  However, even with the luxurious hotel rooms and room service, being confined to one location is still a limitation that will tax anyone.  Joe and Nora have a truly loving relationship that is tested over and over again by family, war, and time.  Even with the magical existence of Nora, their relationship is still just like that of anyone else. Lisa Grunwald does an incredible job of exploring the lengths we are willing to go to ensure the happiness of those we love.  When Nora fully realizes that the passage of time is affecting her very differently than those around her, her actions are quite different than other novels I’ve read that deal with the same concept.

I loved this story.  I loved how Joe and Nora were with one another.  I loved the setting and the writing. It’s just a lovely, lovely story.

If you would like to fall into this gorgeous story, and help support the site, you may do so here:

The Farm by Joanne Ramos

The Farm by Joanne Ramos

Available May 7, 2019

If you could live rent-free at an inclusive resort with daily massages and yoga classes would you?  What if meant you only had to carry a child for nine months, willingly hand it over, and never question what will happen to the child?  What if it also meant you could never leave, were constantly monitored, and had your diet and exercise routine strictly enforced? Would you still do it?

When Jane finds herself a single mother struggling to pay her bills and living in a less than ideal apartment situation, she jumps at the chance to become a Host-a surrogate mother for someone who desperately wants a child but is unable to carry one herself. Leaving her infant daughter is incredibly difficult, but with the extremely high paycheck she will be earning, Jane will be able to provide the very best for her daughter-in nine months.  

But will all things, what seems to be too good to be true, often is.  Jane discovers that the women they carry babies for are not infertile, they are highly successful women who don’t want a pregnancy to interfere with their career plans.  When Jane discovers that her own daughter is ill, she isn’t allowed to leave the Farm to see her. If Jane leaves without permission, is she also kidnapping the child within her?  Does she have any rights left? Why are all the Hosts young and mostly immigrants? What power does the Farm have over the women’s bodies?

The Farm raises all of the BIG questions about women’s rights over their bodies and how we view unborn children.  The Farm seems like such a great idea-help out young women who need to make money by providing surrogacy services to women who want to focus on their careers.  But how far will people go to monetize their services? Whois truly benefiting from these services and who is having their rights trampled on. How much is a child worth?  

The Farm is a gripping and chilling novel about what happens when we monetize women’s bodies.  It’s a completely plausible and realistic premise that feels innocent on the surface, until we dig deeper and start asking the really important questions.  

Extremely well written, I loved this novel and read it two short days-on the beach.  Yep, on the beach. Just rubbing that in. I found it completely fascinating and couldn’t put it down.  

If you would like a copy, and would like to support the site, you can get one here:

Number One Chinese Restaurant by Lillian Li

Number One Chinese Restaurant by Lillian Li

Women’s Prize for Fiction Longlist

There has been a lot of buzz on Instagram and Twitter lately about the Women’s Prize for Fiction. Lots of big important book people showing off which books they’re reading and comparing what books they have already read.  I got sucked into it, of course, and immediately checked out the list to see if I had read any.  Circe by Madeline Miller and My Sister the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite were recent reads for me and I loved them both.  Especially My Sister the Serial Killer-if you can find it on audio, I highly recommend it.  One thing led to another and my Library Holds turned a little overwhelming because I added a ton of books from the List.  I’m currently working on Milkman and Lost Children Archive and I’m excited to try them after reading Number One Chinese Restaurant.  Yes, I know, they are completely different books, but Number One Chinese Restaurant was so good I can’t wait to read the others on the list.  

Number One Chinese Restaurant takes us behind the scenes of the Beijing Duck House in Maryland.  Founded by Bobby Han, the restaurant is taken over after his death by his sons Jimmy and Johnny Han.  Jimmy has left the day-to-day management to Johnny who has dreams of running his own exclusive establishment.  What Johnny doesn’t realize is that the seemingly rag-tag group of waiters and cooks at the Duck House are an intricately woven group of people who have worked together for decades and know how to keep the restaurant running smoothly.  Working in the background of everyone’s lives is Uncle Pang, adviser and fixer who’s means of making one’s dreams come true are as mysterious as his connection to the family.

When the Duck House suffers a devastating fire, everyone connected to the Duck House has their life upended.  Some families will become divided, some will become closer, and everyone will be affected.

Number One Chinese Restaurant is part mystery-part family drama.  The writing is fast paced and I immediately became invested in the characters.  Every character is incredibly well developed and I became really invested in the story of Nan Fang, one of the hostesses and Manager of the restaurant.  She is struggling with her teenage son Pat who has dropped out of school and spends more time fooling around with the boss’ daughter than working as a dishwasher.  Caught between wanting to give her son a better life and her estranged husband who has gone to the other side of the country to start his own restaurant. Added to the stress is her longtime attraction to Jack, a fellow employee and dear friend who is trying to cope with his wife’s illness while balancing overtime hours to pay the bills.  

One thing that stuck out to me the most while reading this novel was Jimmy Han’s belief that he was providing this amazing life for his employees.  He truly believed that they only lived in nice homes and neighborhoods because he provided such a great working environment. Not once does he think about how he speaks to them, how they are forced to work large amounts of overtime, or how they are far better workers than he gives them credit for.  

I really loved this book and I highly recommend it.  If you would like a copy, and want to help support the site, get yours here:

In the Night of Memory by Linda LeGarde Grover

In the Night of Memory by Linda LeGarde Grover
Available April 2nd from University of Minnesota Press

In the Night of Memory is a heart breaking story of love, loss, and family. When Loretta surrenders her two daughters to the County, the daughters are left with only vague memories and a hope of one day being reunited. After a series of foster homes and several years separation, it is through the persistence of a distant relative and the help of the Indian Child Welfare Act, the sisters are placed together again with family members. Through love and acceptance, the girls learn more about their heritage and family history. Unfortunately for the girls, their new found security is short lived. When tragedy strikes the family once again, the girls do what they can to stay together.
Incredibly well written, the story of Azure and Rain draws you in from the first line. Told from multiple points of views across several generations, we are given the complete history of a family, including all their heartbreaks and happiness. I loved this story of family and hope.

This book is wonderful. The story is captivating and I was immediately invested in the well-being of Azure and Rainfall. I really enjoyed how the author told the story from multiple family members which allowed us a more complete understanding, but the characters didn’t necessarily have the same experience. Linda LeGarde Grover is a member of the Bois Forte Band of Ojibwe and a professor of American Indian Studies at the University of Minnesota Duluth.

Full Disclosure Time: Thank you to Bookish and the publisher for the advanced copy of this book. All opinions are my own. 

If you would like a copy of this book, and want to help support the site, you can get one here:

The Paragon Hotel by Lyndsay Faye

Isn’t that a great cover?

The Paragon Hotel is one of those books that makes you feel as though are standing right next to the characters as they live out their story.  You can feel the rattle of the train, hear the music of the nightclubs, and feel the fear as more characters are victimized.

Set in 1921, “Nobody” Alice James is on her way to the west coast to escape her ties to the New York Mafia.  Suffering from a bullet wound, Alice is helped to safety by Max, a porter on the train with a weakness for damsels in distress.  But that feeling of safety is short lived when Alice realizes where she is-The Paragon Hotel, the only all black hotel in Portland, Oregon.  There Alice meets Dr. Pendleton, who is not pleased about treating her, the owner of the hotel and decorated war hero. The hotel is managed by Mavereen, a strong and stern woman who protects her friends and family fiercely.  Last, but definitely not least, is Miss Blossom Fontaine, a cabaret dancer who is hiding some seriously big secrets. Together, the group has to survive the KKK, a missing child, a lynching, and bouts with the police. And secrets-so many, many secrets.

There is so much that goes on in this book that there is no way for me to summarize it more.  

I absolutely loved this book.  It moves very quickly with a lot of jumping back and forth in time and Alice’s backstory is very interesting.  Alice’s character has lived so much in her short life but remains incredibly strong and her quick wits save her far more than once. Blossom is hiding a huge secret that does get revealed in the end-and I nearly dropped the book when that was revealed!  I really loved how the author handles both Max and Dr. Pendleton’s time in the army. They were amazing soldiers who were incredibly brave and treated as heroes while still in France but all that was ignored when they came back to the States and were subjected to the cruelty of racism and hatred.  

There are a lot of tough topics, obviously, in this book.  Racism, interracial relationships, police brutality, found family, the treatment of women and so many others make an appearance.  I was unaware of how openly racist Oregon was a hundred years ago-and obviously, I have some more learning to do. To see how the police had zero cares about a small child disappearing was incredibly frustrating to read.   Blossom’s lifestyle is under constant scrutiny. It’s amazing to me, having lived now and not then, how women were treated as though any choice they made outside of marrying a man and having babies was so scandalous. She was a talented singer and dancer and for wanting to pursue a career in that automatically made her promiscuous or worse.  

I loved the characters, I loved the intensity of it, I loved how the big issues were handled.  It’s a great book and I can’t wait to see what others have to say about it. I don’t usually read Author’s Notes but I recommend you do with this one. Lyndsay Faye includes historical facts that were definitely new to me and provide the context for the story.

The Paragon Hotel comes out January 8, 2019 by Lyndsay Faye.  Thank you to Penguin Random House for an advanced copy, all opinions are my own.  

If you’d like a copy, and want to help support this site, you can get one here:

The Mermaid and Mrs. Hancock by Imogen Hermes Gowar

Back in the summer, I started a subscription to Book of the Month when they had a $5 promo deal.  I was so excited to find new books and authors and have a diverse selection of beautiful books lining my shelves.  But here’s the thing, I found that and more.

This is not an ad, it’s a confession.

I selected my books every month and often added in previous titles at the amazing discounted price.  I have beautiful books lining my shelves and even got a copy of Calypso that I can’t wait to bring with when I see David Sedaris at my local theater next month.   

What I didn’t think about, which was very obvious, was how much time I really had to devote to reading another selection of titles.  I am so very lucky to have the opportunity to read books before they are published and select the titles for the Library. I literally sit in a building that has over 30,000 titles that I can pick up at literally every moment of my workday.  I buy books for myself every chance I get.

My physical TBR was made unattainable by starting BOTM.  It’s amazing. I love it and I love the books.

Back in September, one of my selections was The Mermaid and Mrs. Hancock by Imogen Hermes Gowar.  Set in 1785 London, we get to follow the lives of businessman Jonah Hancock, courtesan Angelica Neal and a mermaid, and how the three of them are thrust onto an unlikely path together.  After unexpectedly receiving a mermaid from one of his ship’s captains, Jonah is intent on making back the money lost by the captain’s foolish investment. Working with his niece Suki, they display the mermaid to great fanfare and it quickly becomes a sensation.  After catching the eye of local madam Mrs. Chappell, the mermaid is commissioned for display at her brothel. It’s at the opening night of the mermaid’s exhibit that Jonah meets the beautiful and desirable Angelica Neal. Newly single and in need of someone to care for her-or pay her bills, whatever-Angelica quickly latches on to Jonah.  But the evening doesn’t go as planned for anyone involved. What will follow is a story of lust, greed, and unexpected friendship.

This story was wonderful!  The writing is very witty and I really enjoyed getting glimpses of the everyday life of Angelica and the other courtesans.And poor Jonah.  That guy just couldn’t seem to catch a break. First his captain sells Jonah’s ship to buy a mermaid, then he has to make back his lost investments, deal with an unreasonable sister, and the whole time he just doesn’t want to make anyone mad.  Slight spoiler on Anglica-you were warned: Her character grows so much over the course of the book. She begins as this spoiled and arrogant person who needs to be surrounded by beautiful things in order to be happy. But she’s never really happy.  She is so out of tune with the world that she truly has no idea what trouble she is in or how to save herself that it’s almost sad. When she is finally offered a safe and happy home, she does an extraordinary amount of growing up and realizes that she can find happiness in simpler things.       

Really big spoiler-

Really big-

I still have no clue what the mermaid was at the end.  No clue. I reread and reread and someone please tell me what that was! Because-buckets?  Huh? And I’m very serious-what do you think it was?

But I loved this book and the characters and I really got drawn into the story and couldn’t put it down.

If you’re thinking of starting Book of the Month, I can honestly say I’ve enjoyed the experience.  If you’re looking for less commitment, you can get your copy, and help support the site, here:

Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield

This book has been all over the place.  For months now, I have seen this gorgeous cover on book lists, ads, and recommendation sites.  There is a reason-it’s just as good as everyone is saying.

Once Upon a River is a story of family, hope, and very dark secrets.  It begins in a small inn set on the banks of the Thames. Full of villagers and drinkers, the inn is the center of storytelling and local history for the area.  And gossip-so much gossip. When a large man enters the inn holding a large puppet the entire inn is left in a state of silent shock. Before the large man collapses to the ground, the puppet is placed in the arms of the son of the inn’s owners.  But it’s not a puppet-it’s a young girl who is very clearly dead and no one knows who she is.

But she’s not dead, and the girl-who-was-dead-but-is-no-longer is about to bring together a seemingly unconnected group of people.  There is the wealthy couple who live down the river and lost their only child two years before. A woman living in a lodging house and takes part in a scandalous profession.  The successful farmer with his large family and loyal animals. The unwed woman who cleans for the parson. The town midwife and healer who declares the little girl alive and knows instantly that she belongs with her.

There is little that can be said about this book without spoiling all of the amazing twists and turns.  It took a bit for me to get in to the story but once it clicked, I couldn’t put the book down. Who is this little girl?  Why did everyone think she was a puppet or a doll? Was she dead? Why does everyone want to be around her? So many questions in this book and there is an answer for all of them.  

The river is a huge part of the story and is written about so beautifully that it feels alive and like it’s a character itself.  There is history and magic but maybe the magic is just the effects of all the pain and struggle that the characters go through or maybe it’s real and it was there all along.  It’s an absolutely beautiful book and I absolutely loved it.

Once Upon a River by Diane Setterfield is available December 4, 2018 from Simon & Schuster.

Thank you to Netgalley and the Publisher for the opportunity to read and review this book-all opinions are my own.  

You can get your copy, and help support the site, here:

Sunday Library Love

Like many people this time of year, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks around here. On the heels of a chaotic Halloween week we attended the first of several winter holiday parties and need to plan future ones that we’re hosting. Meetings, school events, and just everyday housework always seem to be more work when it’s cold outside. The dining room construction is at the true messy stage and it’s starting to impact my last minute jelly making for Christmas gifts.

But it’s not all work. We had business to attend to in the same town as our favorite comic book store so of course a visit was in order. We finally got to meet the Bear at A Boy and His Tiger in Macomb. It’s an overall great shop-great service, great selection, and a great doggo. The Kid picked out a few new books and comics and I managed to keep myself to only one new book.

All of the home construction, holiday cooking, and constant clean up has had one amazing perk-I’ve listened to 3 audiobooks just this last week. All have been Library loans and paired with our overwhelming DVD selection-ALL my holds came in at once- from the Library, it’s been a Library Love type of week. That’s right-we rarely purchase or rent movies, we borrow nearly everything from the Library. Thanks to our wonderful interlibrary loan network, we have access to nearly every title and usually have a very short wait.

Listened to:

Behold the Dreamers by Imbolo Mbue

This was great on audio-the narrator was really good and there is no way I would have pronounced the main character’s names correctly. From the Publisher: Jende Jonga, a Cameroonian immigrant living in Harlem, has come to the United States to provide a better life for himself; his wife, Neni; and their six-year-old son. In the fall of 2007, Jende can hardly believe his luck when he lands a job as a chauffeur for Clark Edwards, a senior executive at Lehman Brothers. Clark demands punctuality, discretion, and loyalty - and Jende is eager to please. Clark's wife, Cindy, even offers Neni temporary work at the Edwardses' summer home in the Hamptons. With these opportunities, Jende and Neni can at last gain a foothold in America and imagine a brighter future.

However, the world of great power and privilege conceals troubling secrets, and soon Jende and Neni notice cracks in their employers' façades. When the financial world is rocked by the collapse of Lehman Brothers, the Jongas are desperate to keep Jende's job - even as their marriage threatens to fall apart. As all four lives are dramatically upended, Jende and Neni are forced to make an impossible choice.

Who Thought This was a Good Idea?  By Alyssa Mastromonaco

Read by the author, this was another great listen that I’ve been wanting to read for a long time.  Funny, honest, and not at all gossipy, this book takes us behind the scenes of political campaigns, the inner workings of the White House, and how incredibly stressful it is to work in Washington.  Mastromonaco gives advice throughout the book on how to prepare for job interviews, the do’s and don’ts of negotiations, and how to not be your own worst enemy. It’s a lot like listening to a really great friend over a glass of wine.  A definite listen for those who would like to reminisce about the time we had intelligent, capable, and caring people in the White House.

Some Enchanted Eclair by Bailey Cates

If you want mouthwatering descriptions of food, some light witchcraft, a murder mystery, and southern accents-this is your series. From the Publisher: When Hollywood invades Savannah's historic district to film a Revolutionary War movie, magical baker Katie Lightfoot and her witches' coven, the Spellbook Club, take a break from casting spells for casting calls. One of the witches snags a part as an extra, while Katie's firefighter boyfriend, Declan, acts as on-set security. Katie and her Aunt Lucy decide to stay out of the action, but after the movie's "fixer" fires the caterer, the Honeybee Bakery comes to the rescue, working their magic to keep the hungry crew happy. But when someone fixes the fixer - permanently - and a spooky psychic predicts Katie will find the killer, the charming baker and her fellow conjurers step in to sift through the suspects - before someone else winds up on the cutting room floor.

Watched:

Paddington 2

Super cute and funny.

Father Figures-The Boys picked this one.

Yeah, The Boys picked this one too.

Read:

Charlie Hernández & The League of Shadows by Ryan Calejo

This was a really great middle great adventure filled with Latino and Hispanic mythology.  I purchased it for the Library and snuck it out before the kids saw it.

A Place For Us by Fatima Farheen Mirza

A Place for Us, is one of those quiet, beautiful books that draws you in and doesn’t let go until the last page.  Fatima Farheen Mirza creates characters that you can’t help but become invested in and care for.

A Place for Us is about an Indian family who is gathered together for the wedding of Hadia, oldest daughter to Rafiq and Layla.  As her sister Huda helps her prepare for the ceremony, Hadia is hopeful that her brother Amar will be in attendance.  After leaving the family three years ago, none of the family has seen or heard from him. A Place for Us tells the story of how the family got their start in the United States, what tore them apart, and what may hopefully bring them together.  We follow the family through joyful birthdays, trouble at school, the effects of 9/11 on a Muslim family, and how no matter how far you fall, your family is always there.  

Many parts of the story are retold in different points of view of each family member giving a complete view of each event.  What seemed as a betrayal to one was truly meant to be a well-meaning intervention.

I felt this book also showed how faith can cause such strife amongst a family, but also provide great comfort and stability at the same time.  How all families, regardless of religion, home state, or social status can have both joy and discord.

Tissue warning:  Part Four was brutal.  Beautifully brutal and the perfect ending, but I was a complete mess after reading it.  

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