Books: Part II

I hope you've had a good weekend and that it included reading something good. I'm here today with some more of my thoughts on books I finished recently.

Family Drama by Rebecca Fallon is an ambitious, emotionally layered novel that straddles the line between glitzy soap-opera glamour and quiet New England melancholy. At its heart is Susan Bliss—soap star, mother, enigma—whose life and death shape the trajectory of her fractured family.

Fallon sets a striking opening scene: a Viking funeral on a snowy beach, two bewildered children watching their mother disappear into the water. It’s a bold start and full of promise. The novel then shifts between timelines and perspectives—tracing Susan’s passionate, bifurcated existence between L.A. stardom and New England motherhood, while also following her twins, Sebastian and Viola, into adulthood.

There’s a lot to admire here: vivid prose, clever structure, and emotionally sharp moments. Sebastian’s longing and artistic obsession with his mother feel tender and well-realized. Viola’s storyline—particularly her entanglement with her mother’s old costar—is messier, and sometimes uncomfortably so.

That said, Family Drama occasionally buckles under its own weight. The narrative momentum falters in places, and Susan herself—though often described as dazzling—feels more like a symbol than a fully inhabited character. The emotional payoff promised in the beginning is somewhat diluted by the novel’s more theatrical flourishes.

Overall, this is a solid, evocative read that touches on fame, family, memory, and identity. For fans of literary fiction with a dramatic flair, Family Drama is worth picking up—but be prepared for a slow burn rather than a soap-worthy explosion. This was three stars for me (despite the great cover).

Thanks to Edelelweiss and Simon & Schuster for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on February 3, 2026. 

Sarah Moss’s Ripeness is a quiet, layered novel that weaves together two timelines with characteristic intelligence and restraint. Set partly in 1960s rural Italy and partly in present-day Ireland, the novel follows Edith—first as a dutiful teenager sent to assist her pregnant sister Lydia through a complex and emotionally fraught birth, and later as a mature woman navigating a friend's unexpected family revelation.

Moss is at her best when writing about the subtleties of obligation, memory, and the undercurrents in female relationships. The sections in Italy are especially evocative, filled with tension, sunlight, and the heavy silence of things left unsaid. Edith's youth and the decisions she’s asked to carry out on behalf of others create a sense of unease that lingers well into the present-day narrative.

However, while the prose is typically sharp and the themes compelling—particularly the question of who gets to make life-altering decisions and why—the novel occasionally feels underdeveloped emotionally. The present-day plotline, involving Maebh’s surprise sibling and Edith’s role in unearthing that family mystery, doesn’t land with the same weight as the earlier story. There’s a detachment that makes it hard to fully invest in the characters' current dilemmas. Some of this may be due to the fact that the book feels overstuffed. Lots of issues are mixed up in this book—it deals with refugees, migration and immigration, Jewishness, rape culture, abortions, Irishness, the Magdalene Laundries, the war in Ukraine, toxic ballet culture, and much more. It often felt like too much and made Edith a frustrating character.

A thoughtful, readable novel that explores the long reach of the past, Ripeness doesn’t quite deliver the emotional payoff it promises, but Moss’s elegant writing and insight into the lives of women still make it worth the read.

Thank you to Farrar, Straus and Giroux and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on September 9, 2025. 

Isola is a beautifully written survival story rooted in historical truth and elevated by Allegra Goodman's lyrical prose. Inspired by a real sixteenth-century woman who was abandoned on an island as punishment for an illicit relationship, the novel imagines what inner strength, longing, and faith might look like when stripped of society, family, and even hope.

Marguerite begins the novel as a privileged young woman—an heiress raised to expect comfort and refinement. But after a series of betrayals by her guardian, she finds herself exiled to a remote, frozen island. What follows is not just a story of physical survival, but a spiritual and emotional reckoning.

Goodman’s writing is spare and evocative, especially when describing the stark beauty and brutality of the natural world. The island becomes a character in its own right—merciless, isolating, but also strangely liberating. Marguerite’s transformation from ornamented girl to self-reliant woman is subtle but deeply felt, and her voice—narrating from a place of endurance rather than drama—is compelling in its restraint.

Some readers might find the pacing slow or the emotional register too muted, but for me, the novel’s quiet intensity made it all the more powerful. It doesn’t sensationalize Marguerite’s suffering, but it doesn’t look away from it either. Instead, Isola invites us to sit with loneliness, resilience, forbidden love, and the aching clarity that can come when everything else is stripped away.

A contemplative, moving book that lingers after the final page. Recommended for readers of literary historical fiction and survival narratives with emotional depth. This was a solid four stars for me. 

 

Maggie Smith’s A Suit or a Suitcase is an introspective, tender, and at times disorienting collection that blurs the lines between mind and body, past and present, self and world. Smith has a gift for crafting images that feel both fragile and sharp-edged, offering moments of clarity that catch you off guard. Many of the poems linger in that liminal space between what we know and what we can only guess at—asking questions about identity, continuity, and the limits of human perception.

That said, while the language is often gorgeous and contemplative, the book can feel somewhat diffuse. The thematic repetition sometimes risks dulling its impact, and a few poems felt more like sketches than fully realized pieces. Still, when Smith’s words and ideas land, they land well, and the best moments have the kind of quiet resonance that stays with you long after you’ve closed the book.

Not every poem here will speak to every reader, but for those who appreciate meditative, thought-tinged verse and a willingness to explore uncertainty, this is a collection worth spending time with—whether you’re in a suit, a suitcase, or somewhere in between. Three and a half stars rounded up. There is a Goodreads giveaway for this book if you're interested.

Thank you to Washington Square Press and Edelweiss for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on March 24, 2026. 

I'm grateful that I enjoy reading so much as it provides an escape, a respite, and it's also educational. I hope you have a good book in your hands or your ears and are also experiencing all the benefits that reading can provide.