Books on Thursday

I finished two books this week, and they were both a little outside of my usual reading. Sarah recommended this first one, and since I seem to be on a memoir streak, I gave it a try. 

In How to Lose Your Mother, Molly Jong-Fast writes with a voice that is unmistakably her own, sharp, self-aware, anxious, funny, exhausting, and often brutally candid all at once. The memoir moves quickly between humor, resentment, grief, celebrity gossip, family history, and the slow devastation of Erica Jong’s dementia. At times the tone feels almost frenetic, but that energy also feels true to the life she’s describing. Even when I wasn’t fully invested, I was rarely bored.

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is its complicated portrait of motherhood and daughterhood. Jong-Fast clearly spent much of her life longing for stability and attention from a mother who was consumed by fame, relationships, ambition, her own needs, and addiction to alcohol. The title itself captures the emotional core of the memoir: how do you mourn a mother you never really had in the first place? Some passages about caregiving, aging, and anticipatory grief were genuinely moving.

I listened to the audiobook, which added another interesting layer to the experience. Molly Jong-Fast has a very distinctive narration style and voice. At first I found it a little jarring , clipped, intense, almost breathless at times and strident at others , but as the memoir went on it started to feel perfectly matched to the story she was telling and the emotional chaos underneath it.

In the end, I think readers who enjoy messy family memoirs, literary gossip, and emotionally complicated mother-daughter stories will probably get the most out of this one. I didn’t love every moment, but I appreciated its honesty and refusal to sentimentalize difficult relationships. This is a story about a little girl who didn't get what she needed from her mother while she was growing up, and that's a sad story no matter the circumstances. Three and a half stars.

Sally Hepworth has built a reputation for writing domestic suspense with sharp humor and memorable characters, and Mad Mabel leans heavily into both strengths. Part mystery, part character study, and part dark comedy, this novel follows eighty-one-year-old Elsie Mabel Fitzpatrick, a woman whose prickly exterior hides a lifetime of secrets, and possibly a trail of bodies.

The strongest aspect of the book is undoubtedly Mabel herself. She's nosy, opinionated, unapologetically difficult, and far more complex than she initially appears. Hepworth does an excellent job balancing Mabel's sharp edges with enough vulnerability to make readers invested in her story. The friendship that develops between Mabel and her young neighbor Persephone is also unexpectedly charming and provides much of the novel's heart.

The dual timelines gradually reveal Mabel's past, and while the mystery kept me turning pages, some of the twists felt more entertaining than surprising. The pacing occasionally lagged a bit in the middle. The novel's blend of humor and darker subject matter is mostly successful, though at times the tonal shifts felt a little uneven.

What ultimately makes Mad Mabel work is its exploration of justice, redemption, and the assumptions we make about people based on age and appearance. It's a clever premise that asks readers to reconsider who gets labeled "dangerous" and who gets overlooked. It is an engaging, quirky mystery with a memorable protagonist and enough twists to keep suspense fans satisfied. Three and a half stars rounded up.   

Now I'd love to know what you're reading!