Three Books on Thursday

I usually include the books I have read in Unraveled Wednesday posts, but my book reviews have been getting longer for some reason. Adding them to an Unraveled Wednesday post makes those posts far too long, so long that even I wouldn't want to read them (and I wrote the darn reviews). Last week I finished three books, and wrote long(ish) reviews, so here they are in case you might be interested.

I requested The Briar Club from Edelweiss because the publisher's blurb mentioned that it was set during the McCarthy era. That sounded intriguing and became even more so once I started the book. The book opens with a murder, and subsequent chapters explore how this happened, each from a different character's viewpoint. A diverse group of women live in Briarwood House, a rooming house in Washington, D.C. in the 1950s. They all have secrets, desires, and wishes, but they begin to bond and come together during the tenant's Thursday "Briar Club" supper evenings. The pace is slower than other Kate Quinn novels, and there are also some slightly odd insertions of recipes and Briarwood House itself speaking. The recipes accompany the storyline but are an unusual interruption. I found the sentient house simply strange, both because it was speaking and the things it said were mildly unsettling. But the story is still good, and Quinn's extensive research is evident. The author's historical notes at the end answer the question about where she got the ideas for the book. 3.5 stars rounded down.

Thank you to Edelweiss and William Morrow for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on July 9, 2024.

The Far Field is an exploration of identity, loss, and the complexities of human connection set against the backdrop of the tumultuous region of Kashmir. The novel follows the journey of Shalini, a young woman from Bangalore, as she seeks to unravel the mysteries surrounding her mother's past.

Vijay's writing is both lyrical and evocative, painting vivid images of the lush landscapes of Kashmir and the multifaceted characters that inhabit it. Through Shalini's quest, the novel delves into the political turmoil and cultural divides that have long plagued the region, offering a nuanced perspective on the Kashmir conflict.

One of the novel's strengths lies in its richly developed characters, each with desires, fears, and contradictions. Shalini herself is a deeply flawed yet compelling protagonist, driven by a mix of naivety and determination as she navigates the complexities of love, friendship, privilege, and betrayal. One of the novel's big weaknesses is that Shalini does not seem to have learned anything from her journey. The author highlights the dangers of imposing our perceptions and ideologies onto others, even with the noblest intentions. Shalini's naivety and misguided actions serve as a cautionary tale, illustrating how the road to hell can indeed be paved with good intentions.

The novel challenges readers to question the ethical implications of intervention and the blurred lines between altruism and exploitation. It's a poignant reminder that genuine empathy requires more than just good intentions; it demands a deep understanding of the complexities and nuances of the situations we seek to address. Three and a half stars rounded up because of the excellent audiobook narration by Sneha Mathan.

Soil was recommended to me by a friend (thank you, Jane!) because she knew my son had lived in Fort Collins for several years. While I initially read it because I wanted to learn about gardening in this high plains area that receives little rainfall but is also subject to hail and strong winds, I learned about much more. Dungy tells the story of moving her husband and daughter to predominantly White Fort Collins and transforming her homogeneous suburban lawn into a pollinator garden with native plants. This multi-year process involved removing the sod, spreading newly delivered soil and mulch, and then planting, watering, and waiting. This is not simply a gardening journal; along the way, Dungy also writes about marriage, motherhood, racism, social justice, and nature writers who may (or may not) have written in isolation. I appreciated the author's points about John Muir and Annie Dillard writing in solitude, and Mary Oliver having the time to wander the forest and write poems without having to provide meals for children.

There is a moment when the author is a bit prickly and I didn't understand why. She is upset because the pastor at church used language in a sermon about "getting along with people who might have voted differently" in the 2016 election that she felt was hurtful and dangerous. She told him, "All those people you listed, we are not 'on the outside of society looking in'. We are part of this society! We are at the very center of what America has been built upon. But the rhetoric you used during your addition to that prayer is the rhetoric of exclusion." The pastor apologized and said Ms. Dungy should always tell him if something he said or did was hurtful. "These must have seemed like generous gestures to him but he took no agency. He made me responsible for calling his attention to the hurt he caused." I am not a Black woman, so I'm not intimately familiar with the author's experiences. I don't wish to inflict pain upon others, but I don't know what I don't know. One of the ways I can learn is if others help to teach me, and it seems that was what the pastor was asking for.

Several reviewers have complained that the author jumps from subject to subject; she tells her stories non-linearly, but I enjoyed her writing style. For me, it helped to highlight the interconnectedness of nature and gardening with day-to-day life. There are times when the prose may not be cohesive, but Camille Dungy reminds us that gardening, the natural world, massive wildfires, and racism are parts of our daily lives and are all related. Three and a half stars rounded up.

What have you been reading lately?