Posted in Julie Clark

The Last Flight by Julie Clark

I just turned the last page of The Last Flight and I’m at a loss for words. I here declare my forever loyalty to this writer and promise to read every single book that she releases 🤩

10 pages into this book and my heart was already in my throat! Whaaaat a ride it has been! The whole book, every single page, every phrase buzzes with electricity, keeping your heart pounding and giving you permanent goosebumps. Even the recollections from the past, the side stories that should throw a wave of calmness and nostalgia don’t manage to dissolve for a second the tension and suspense.

And compared to most of the thrillers published in the last few years, the character’s portraits are anything but bland or stereotypical. I’m absolutely mesmerized by the depth of the two heroines’ personalities and how the author managed to merge the incredible tension with such profound backgrounds, detailed psychological features and intense and relevant message for the present days.

There is absolutely nothing missing from this book, nothing that feels missmatched or inaccurate. Every action, every trait, every step that either Claire or Eva take are deeply rooted in their past, from their childhoods to their recent years. I’m not even sure if some other readers will feel like some parts of the protagonists’ personalities have negative sides. Perhaps Eva might look too dark and too cold or Claire too paranoid and weak. But for me, the background given to them was so well depicted that makes it impossible to judge them even for a second or to feel like they would have had any other choices at any given time.

And over everything else, you can’t stop feeling their fear constantly, like a heavy blanket that covers everything they do, think or feel. Both Claire’s and Eva’s fear feels like a drowning moment on a loop, over and over again. Impossible to forget for even a moment, impossible to be completely free or relaxed even during the simplest activities. Whatever actions they take, whatever thoughts they have, they feel like gulps of air taken between desperate attempts to move, to survive. And yet, both of them find enough strength to fight, to find ways, to give themselves a chance to calculate the difference between reality and the paranoid thoughts seeded inside their minds by the constant terror.

I loved the side characters as well, how colorful they were sketched and how well the writer illustrates the impact of their choices over the lives of Claire and Eva. How a small gesture for someone can mean the world for someone else.

I don’t even know how to end this review, other than highly recommending it. I feel like nothing I could say gives enough justice to how intense the book is or to the way it will throw you on a roller coaster of emotions from the first to the last page.

Posted in Liane Moriarty

Nine Perfect Strangers by Liane Moriarty

Some books just don’t give you that addiction feeling that doesn’t let you to put the book down until you don’t find out what happens next or until you’ve finished one more chapter. But in the same time, they are so cozy and comfortable to read that you wouldn’t mind if they would last forever.

This was the case for me with Nine Perfect Strangers. The book doesn’t have any wow factor, it’s not mind blowing in any way. Everything is balanced and mild: the drama, the characters, the mystery. But in the same time, slowly, with every page you read, you get attached to each one of the completely normal and non-spectacular characters, you want to find out more about their boring lives and just dive deeper into their minds. They’re all absolutely normal people, but they’re all nice and funny and the connection that forms between them creates the same pleasant atmosphere.

I’ve read other books from the same author and until now, Nine Perfect Strangers was the most superficial of them all. You know those thin commercial books that used to come when you were buying women magazines in the 90’s? This novel has the exact same vibe. Light, summer read that keeps you entertained enough but without leaving any marks in your memory once you’ve finished it. I wasn’t disappointed by reading it but it’s clearly not the book that I would enthusiastically talk about.

Posted in Margaret Atwood

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

As much as I wanted to read this book because of how famous it is, my first attempt was unsuccessful. I couldn’t get comfortable with the voice of the protagonist, nor with the writing style. Later, I failed to love the TV series because it’s such a slow burn and patience is not exactly one of my qualities. I can’t even remember how exactly did I decide to give the series another chance, but once I passed the first few episodes I became addicted. As a consequence, after finishing the last season, my wish to finish the book rose again and this time I didn’t feel any of the issues that I had before. The read was smooth and compelling. But to be honest, if I were to make a comparison between the novel and the series, the book feels more like a skeleton and the TV show gives the story full body and depth.

Although a dystopia and (fortunately!), still far and different from our present, I find it absolutely incredible how accurate and relevant the book is, especially since it’s been written more than 35 years ago. Compared to other dystopian worlds, which always have a feel of incredulity, The Handmaid’s Tale seems to be built on reality at such a chilling, high level that it becomes absolutely terrifying. There’s almost no aspect of it that feels like it wouldn’t become possible any day in the near future.

With few exceptions, globally we’re living probably at the highest peak of freedom that humanity saw since modern times. And yet, looking around, you can’t help but notice irregularities all over the world, you can’t help but worry that all this freedom is more fragile than we’d like it to be. And above all, the fact that the whole world has access to live information doesn’t seem to help in any way. No country will get involved in another one’s business, no matter how abusive a government would suddenly become. They all declare their worry and disapproval and urge the abusive authorities to reconsider their ways, but that’s about it. Some news and articles for a few days and then the world forgets. That is exactly why The Handmaid’s Tale feels so real. Because if anything like it would happen today anywhere in the world, that is exactly how things would develop. All our normality, all our freedom could be suddenly taken away and nobody would lift a finger to stop it. So no matter how shocking some events are in Atwood’s story, they still make sense, they still look plausible. I can’t wrap my mind around the way the author managed to create this concept and the more I think about it, the more amazed I am.

I didn’t give it 5 stars only because I am influenced by the complexity of the TV series and therefore, by comparison, the book leaves a lot of gaps that were filled by the information I had from the show. But I highly recommend the novel. It’s somehow slow and tells all the events with such a mild and resigned voice that it might mask the atrocity while you’re reading. But once you put down the book, all the ideas will start rolling and bubbling inside your mind, leaving you with a feeling of shock and uneasiness.

Posted in Frances Cha

If I Had Your Face by Frances Cha

If I Had Your Face promises to allow you to dive in some of the most notorious trends that are “leaking” lately from the contemporary Korean culture into the international media: the plastic surgeries turned into a norm, the K-pop mania, the obsession with impossible beauty standards, the pressure of social hierarchies, the lack of balance between work and family life. Frances Cha manages to deliver an insight into these strict standards, showing how five young women struggle to live within all the restrictions imposed by the modern Korean society.

I was honestly expecting something a bit deeper, an explanation on how people are “digesting” all this pressure, an active reaction from the characters forced to submit to such unattainable ideals. Instead, all of the five women just… go with the flow, conforming to the cultural norms, without questioning or opposing them. I know it somehow makes sense, because… how unbearable life would be if you wouldn’t internalize the rules of the society around you? If the collective mentality wouldn’t become embedded into your core like it would be your own? But I still cannot help feeling unsatisfied by the fact that what we see is just acceptance and nothing of the process that’s shaping the personalities of the characters.

Despite this, I didn’t dislike the book. It’s mildly entertaining, like a little innocent gossip that you hear on the brunch with your girlfriends. Not bringing any depth or substance, but offering enough amusement. The book lacks on tension, even if there is a visible attempt to create some suspense here and there. But Frances Cha still manages to keep you reading without frustration. Honestly, if the author decided to write extra 500 pages about the same day-to-day casual experiences of her characters, I probably wouldn’t have minded or became bored of it.

The only problem I had with the book is that the characters’ voices are so similar. Even if every chapter has the name of each woman, I still struggled to recognize who’s story I’m reading. And this issue lasted until the very end of the novel, it was not something that faded by becoming more familiar with the particularities of each individual.

Posted in Uncategorized

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng

From the first pages of Everything I Never Told You, there’s such a thick layer of sadness enclosing the whole atmosphere that even the happier memories tend to float in a grayish filter. Nothing is bright, nothing really shines, every little joy being somehow washed by wave after wave of sorrow, unspoken regrets and more than anything, longing. Longing to be either yourself or someone else, to fit in or to be unique, longing for love, for dreams, for things to be different or exactly the same, for freedom or belonging. Longing for all the things that make us human and for all the things that make us different.

I haven’t really stopped reading once I learned how to, as a child. Not during teenage years, not during adulthood. But I realized now, while reading Everything I Never Told You, that it’s been more than a decade maybe since a book offered me some sort of… revelation. I cannot find a better word. During the years of adolescence, when I was questioning everything and looking for answers, I searched for and found books after books that would allow me to form my thoughts, that indirectly shaped the way I think, that made my mind buzz with ideas. But since then, somehow reading turned from thirst of knowledge into entertainment only instead.

And I can’t remember discovering any more bewildering novels. Novels that would shake me, that would suddenly make me grasp an idea that feels like it’s completely new and in the same time, like it’s been always floating there, under a shallow layer, so close, but always out of reach.

And although the whole novel of Celeste Ng is somehow bursting of examples, one insignificant scene was the one opening my eyes about this: how hard we hit the ones we love the most, when we are furious on anything else besides them. How in that explosive moment, we don’t care how exposed, innocent and hurt they are and nothing else matters besides our own anger. And how poisonous is the mix of guilt, fury and pride that forms in the seconds after, how it swells in your throat so much that it hurts and doesn’t let you breathe or swallow. We never learn that the guilt won’t ever disappear, even if, perhaps, the memories themselves might fade with time. In that impulse, we always forget that the guilt will survive even after the people won’t be there anymore, that the guilt will hover around, surrounding and intoxicating any recollections, outbalancing any facts or feelings, no matter how much we try to ignore it.

As cheesy as it may sound, I feel grateful for reading this book and amazed by the author’s ability to paint such raw images, to make me feel such diametrically opposed feelings in the same time, to make me sense each character’s pool of grief, regrets, silences and vulnerabilities. I did not read Everything I Never Told You. I felt it, I lived it. There weren’t many things to make me connect with the characters or to identify myself with their own stories, but the author’s talent makes you empathize with all of them, transfering you their feelings as if they were your own.