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Colleen Hoover’s books are sensations. Apparently, they are hugely popular on TikTok. I haven’t read her other works (and there are plenty) but I recently bought ‘Verity’ upon the insistence of a friend who was on a Hoover marathon of sorts. Most of her books are romances but Verity is a thriller, which is why I thought it would be a good place to start. But I want my money back. Well, that might not be possible because I have literally hurled the book so many times that it’s quite battered now but I won’t be spending any more of my precious money on her books from now on.

Verity Crawford is a bestselling writer. She has written six books in a series and there are three more to go. Unfortunately, Verity is injured in a car accident following the tragic death of her twin daughters—she is paralyzed but the fact is kept under wraps—and her publisher ropes in another writer to complete her work. Enter Lowen Ashleigh. She is divorced, has spent a year taking care of her ailing mother and has recently been evicted from her apartment after defaulting on her rent. So, when she’s offered this job that pays really well, she takes it up.

Lowen moves into Crawford’s home, to go through Verity’s office and get the notes or whatever else it is that she might need to start. There, she discovers an autobiographical manuscript that exposes Verity’s sinister side. Is Verity responsible for the family’s ill fate? If so, how does she tell Verity’s husband, Jeremy (who she is falling in love with), the truth? And, how does she save herself from this mess?

The plot is predictable from the start. With only a handful of characters, there isn’t much to the story. The writing is bad with much of the book just being elaborate descriptions of kinky sex. Early on in the story, Jeremy says Lowen and Verity have similar writing styles, which is why Lowen was chosen for the job. That’s convenient given how the book shuffles between Verity’s and Lowen’s thoughts and the two sound the same. Isn’t it a writer’s job to make her characters’ voices unique, to flesh them out enough so that they don’t resemble another character in the book?

Hoover’s technique is to rely on jump scares to keep things interesting. But they don’t do the story any good. Rather, they make the narrative forced and unnatural. The only good thing about the book is that the chapters are short and, thanks to bad writing, you never want to pause and consider what you just read. That way, you don’t have to put up with it for long. I’m shoving this book far back into my bookshelf so that I don’t ever have to look at it again. I won’t give it away because that means someone will have to read it and I don’t want to inflict that kind of pain on anyone.

One star

Fiction

Verity

Colleen Hoover

Published: 2018

Publisher: Sphere

Pages: 321, Paperback

I read ‘They Never Learn’ by Layne Fargo on Kindle after fruitlessly waiting to get my hands on a physical copy for months. I couldn’t wait anymore. The anticipation was too much. And the book lived up to the hype. It’s a solid story, one you find yourself rushing through (you want to know what happens) and simultaneously slowing down (you want the story to never end). Centered on a university professor who kills ‘bad’ men, They Never Learn, unlike most other suspense novels, is a thriller that poses a moral dilemma. The social drama aspect of it plays out beautifully and you struggle to decide what morality means in an increasingly hostile world.

Scarlett Clark is an English professor at Gorman University. She is also a serial killer. Scarlett only targets those who she believes “deserve to be murdered”, mostly men who have a reputation of harassing women or haven’t been punished for their crimes. She studies her victims in advance, plots elaborate plans, and stages the perfect deaths. So much so that, though she has been killing since college, she has never been caught.

In Scarlett’s mind, she’s doing the world a favor by getting rid of these abhorrent personalities. But then she gets a little too personal and murders someone she has a grudge against. At the same time, the university puts together a task force to look into all the mysterious deaths on campus. Dr. Mina Pierce who heads the committee sort of figures out that many of the suicides and accidental deaths are actually murders and carried out by the same person. (Curiously, Mina is the ex-wife of Scarlett’s most recent kill.)

There’s also a parallel narrative of a student, Carly Schiller, who comes to Gorman after escaping a suffocating and abusive household. All she wants is to be invisible and survive college. Then she gets to know her roommate, Ashley Hadley, and the two become close. When Ashley is assaulted at a party, Carly becomes obsessed with making the attacker pay.

The dual stories of Scarlett and Carly play out in alternating chapters, and the similarities between them make it starkly clear that deep-rooted misogyny is the harbinger of violence against women. They Never Learn isn’t bone-chilling. But it’s intense. The feminist rage is palpable. And at times, even if you don’t believe in the idea of revenge, it feels strangely cathartic.

3.5 stars

Fiction

They Never Learn

Layne Fargo

Published: 2020

Publisher: Gallery/Scout Press

Pages: 352, Hardcover

Some books are just great. The story is good, the writing witty and smooth, and the characters loveable. You wish for everyone to read them, and you talk about them every chance you get. ‘The House in the Cerulean Sea’ by T J Klune is one of those books I find myself thinking about with wistful longing every now and then.

The writer has created a magical world I wish were real. But it isn’t just a fantasy story either. It’s rather a stunning depiction of how we fear what we don’t understand and our inability to accept our differences and exist in harmony. A queer himself, the author has also weaved in a nuanced queer love story.

The House in the Cerulean Sea describes a world with magical creatures. And just like there are ministries to govern our world, there is a ministry to monitor those beings as well. Forty-year-old Linus Baker is a caseworker at the Department in Charge of Magical Youths who lives alone in a tiny house with a wily cat for company. He is assigned to go to an orphanage on a remote island where there are six magical children.

Linus has to determine whether these children are as dangerous as the ministry deems them to be, especially as one of them is supposed to be the son of Satan. But as Linus gets to know these mysterious children and the person who runs the orphanage, Arthur Parnassus, he is forced to consider that this strange place might be the one he can finally call home. What follows is a wonderful story of finding family and friendship in the unlikeliest of places, and love when you least expect it.

Klune is a fabulous writer. I found myself rereading several passages and laughing out loud a lot. Linus is a fun narrator. He is rigid in his ways but also aware of his flaws. The ensuing mental tussle makes him an endearing character. We all know someone like him, who we want to shake and hug at the same time. Arthur reminds you of that favorite professor in college whom you could turn to for all your problems. He is a comforting presence throughout the novel and you are charmed by his calm demeanor.

The children are all fascinating: Lucy, believed to be the ‘anti-Christ’, keeps threatening everybody about how he can and will use his powers to end the world. Sal is a shapeshifter and turns into a Pomeranian whenever he is scared. There’s Chaucey, an amorphous blob with tentacles, who wants to become a bellhop. Talia is a female gnome, Phee is a forest sprite and Theodore, a wyvern. It’s rare to find character-driven stories where you can’t decide on a favorite.

Even Linus’s cat, Calliope, has more personality that most people I know. In The House in the Cerulean Sea, every character has gotten their due and no one outshines the other. The result is a heartwarming and gripping story that you want to reread immediately after finishing it.

Three stars 

Fiction

Radio Silence

Alice Oseman

Published: 2016

Publisher: Harper Collins

Pages: 401, Paperback

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25322449-radio-silence

Alice Oseman signed her first book deal when she was 17. Her debut novel ‘Solitaire’ was published in 2014 when she was 19. ‘Radio Silence’ is her second book and she has meanwhile published a few other works including a web comic series titled ‘Heartstopper’. She has received some awards too and her stories are often praised for their realistic portrayal of contemporary teenage life. I read Radio Silence because a booktuber I’m fond of (@paperbackdreams) raves about this book every chance she gets. Even when the book doesn’t fit any of the prompts for recommendations, she will find a way to talk about it, often plucking it from her shelf and going, “Hey guys, read Radio Silence”. So, you could say I read it for her. 

Radio Silence would have hit differently if I were in middle or high school. As an adult, it didn’t resonate much but the plot is quite enjoyable and uplifting. The story is about an academically-driven teen named Frances whose only goal is to get good grades and secure a seat at a good university. But that’s ‘school-Frances’, the person everyone sees. At home, she’s obsessed with a science-fiction podcast and makes fan art for it. Then she meets the creator of the podcast, Aled, and the two strike up a friendship that changes the course of things for both of them.

 The book has strong themes of friendship, identity, and parental neglect. I liked the fact that Radio Silence isn’t your typical boy-meets-girl-and-romance-ensues narrative. Oseman doesn’t focus on romantic relationships as much as she does on friendship. When every other YA novel revolves around a love story, this new direction feels refreshing and lends a different perspective to what coming-of-age can feel like. And many times, that has nothing to do with raging hormones. 

The book has powerful messages for teenagers and those who are stressed about life after high school. Oseman’s writing is simple. You can hear the characters talk and their thoughts too. At times it feels like you are one of them as you get caught up in what’s happening. I would have given the book four or five stars if I were younger. I still give it three stars because I think it’s a book you couldn’t go wrong with. There are interesting bits that put you in a contemplative mood. And there is an element of suspense. She tells a good story and I will definitely be reading her other books.

(Dear ‘Where the Crawdads Sing’, on paper I’m forced to give you only five stars. I want you to know that if I could, I’d give you all the stars in the sky.) If you haven’t read Delia Owens’ debut novel, I suggest you drop everything you are doing and curl up with the book. I’m saying this because I regret not doing so when my friend recommended it almost a year ago. He told me it was perhaps the most beautiful book he’d read. And he is a voracious reader.

 I wanted to kick myself for buying the book and letting it sit on the shelf for so long before eventually picking it up. I should have gotten around to it sooner; I berated myself over and over again. Everything about the book is gorgeous—the writing, the setting, the characters, the descriptions of nature and the marsh, and the way the author has woven suspense into the story.

A coming-of-age story of a girl named Kya Clark who lives alone in a shack in the swamplands of North Carolina after being abandoned by her family, Where the Crawdads Sing is a captivating read. Owens is a retired wildlife biologist and she intersperses the story with a lot of information about nature’s various elements, blurring the line between fiction and non-fiction in places. But at no point does it seem like she’s lecturing; nor do the descriptions take away from the story.

Instead, she enthralls and educates you at the same time. Apparently, the book has been criticized for being too trope-heavy. Some say that a courtroom drama can’t exist alongside life in the marshes. But it sold more than four million copies in a little over a year since its publication, foreign rights were sold in 41 countries, and it’s also being adapted into a film being produced by Reese Witherspoon.

Kya is a fascinating and lovable character. She teaches herself to survive in a hostile world and manages to get by just fine. There are some kind people who help her along the way—like a shopkeeper who buys the fish she catches and a boy named Tate who teaches her to read—who reinforce your belief in humanity.

Set in the 1950s and 60s, the book also deals heavily with racism, with a few uplifting scenes like a judge declaring people can sit wherever they want in his courtroom and that those who have a problem with it can leave. It opens with a body being discovered in the swamp and then jumps back and forth between the past and the present to tell a story of loneliness and courage. You will be rooting for Kya all the way through and the end will leave you happy and heartbroken at the same time.

Two stars

Fiction

Scythe

Neal Schusterman

Published: 2016

Publisher: Walker Books Ltd

Pages: 440, Paperback

‘Scythe’ by Neal Schusterman is set in a utopian world where humans have conquered poverty, various social ills, and even death. There are no diseases, people don’t die of old age—they can reset their age when they feel like it, and if they get into accidents or such, they are taken to revival centers where they are brought back to life in a few days.

However, the only habitable planet is the earth. Missions to the moon and mars have failed. And so, the population needs to be curtailed, which is why there are these groups of people known as the scythes who have the power to ‘glean’ (meaning kill) people at their own discretion. Each scythe has a quota of people whose lives they have to end within a certain time. So scythes are equally revered and feared in this world where everything is seemingly perfect.

However, though scythes are supposed to glean without bias and killing people isn’t supposed to be enjoyable, there are some corrupt ones who treat it like a hunting sport, choosing to glean in mass and loving the bloodbath. Teenagers Citra and Rowan are taken in as scythe apprentices. Following their year-long training, they are told one of them will become a scythe and the other will go back to his/her old life. But halfway into their training, it’s decided that the winner will have to glean the other.

The two, who are mutually attracted, don’t know how to deal with this new development but each is determined to save the other. They also discover that some scythes are breaking the rules, terrorizing people and killing mercilessly. The two apprentices suddenly find themselves thrust into a world where nothing is as it seems and the future of humanity is at stake.

The writing is good. The story is okay. Scythe isn’t boring but it’s not as fascinating as it could have been. I didn’t want to give up on it as I wanted to know if and how Citra and Rowan would escape their doomed fate. Things do happen that make you gasp and shudder but these are few and far between, making it a slow read.

There are all these interesting ideas about how life would be if you had everything you ever wanted and there was no conflict whatsoever. It gets you thinking but it’s not enough to keep you hooked. All in all, Scythe is forgettable but good enough for a leisurely read.

Four stars

Fiction

House of Hollow

Krystal Sutherland

Published: 2021

Publisher: Hot Key Books

Pages: 300, Paperback

Strange things have always happened around the Hollow sisters—Grey, Vivi, and Iris—ever since they disappeared as children and reappeared a month later with no memory of the past. It was like they were reborn on the day they came back. Their father, Gabe Hollow, thinks something is wrong with them. Not only were their eyes and hair different, they also felt like strangers. He drives himself mad trying to work out the reason and eventually kills himself.

The girls settle into their daily routine with their mother but Grey and Vivi drop out of school and move out of their home to pursue their ‘dreams’. Grey becomes a model and designer while Vivi plays in a band. Iris, on the other hand, lives with their mother and goes to school. She (or rather her mother) hopes she will become a doctor one day. Then, 10 years later, Grey goes missing. And someone seems to be after Vivi and Iris.

The key to finding and saving Grey (as well as making sure the figure lurking in the shadows isn’t able to get to them) lies in decoding what happened all those years ago. Grey has left them clues and while trying to piece things together, they discover sinister and shocking secrets.

‘House of Hollow’ by Krystal Sutherland has a very sinister feel to it. Grey feels a little off, like she isn’t who she claims to be or maybe she knows more than she’s telling. Does she remember what happened when they disappeared? Why does the clothes she designs smell like rot and death? And can she really manipulate people’s minds to do as she wishes them to? Where does this power come from?

There are so many questions that make you want to keep turning the pages, despite your palms being slick with fear while reading this haunting tale where flowers spurt from wounds and a bull-horned creature, possibly from the other world, is on the prowl.

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I don’t usually read horror novels. This was my first since ‘Frankenstein’ by Mary Shelly many, many years ago so I had forgotten how traumatizing it can be. An eerie feeling dominates your days when you are reading a well-executed horror story, and House of Hollow, with its beautiful writing and carefully crafted characters, gets under your skin.

The family drama makes the story relatable and emotional. Mother-daughter relationship is a crucial aspect of the narrative. Sutherland has woven many other strong themes into the plot. House of Hollow isn’t just a horror story. It deals with grief, love, obsession, the price of fame and beauty, and the bond between siblings. It’s a slim volume with a lot going that will have you marveling at Sutherland’s ability to keep it concise in such a compelling story.

One star

 Fiction

The Golden Rule

Amanda Craig

Published: 2020

Publisher: Abacus

Pages: 391, Paperback

I’m giving ‘The Golden Rule’ by Amanda Craig one star but I wish I could add a minus sign before it. It’s just horrible. The writing is preachy and pretentious. The plot, though intriguing (two women meet on a train and agree to kill each other’s husbands), isn’t well-developed and thus unconvincing. I cringed several times throughout the book. I was angry. I was upset. I felt talked down to as the writer almost screams at you to make you think the way she does. I couldn’t connect or empathize with the protagonist, Hannah, so entitled and annoying. I don’t have a single good thing to say about this book. It could have been a much shorter and better read had Craig decided to do away with her ‘social messages’ and just worked on the story.

 I hadn’t heard about the author but I picked up The Golden Rule as it had been longlisted for The Women’s Prize in Fiction in 2021. Also, the blurb was interesting and Bernardine Evaristo, author of ‘Girl, Woman, Other’, which won the 2019 Booker Prize, called Craig ‘a skillful storyteller who vividly dramatizes our lives with wit, wisdom, and compassion’. But wit and compassion are exactly the things that are lacking in The Golden Rule.

 The characters come across as snooty and rough when they are trying to be nonchalant and smart. The dialogues are mundane and clichéd. There is an instance where Hannah’s husband hits her and Stan, the guy she is supposed to kill but ends up being attracted to, rushes to defend her. Hannah’s response to that, ‘Please, stop, I don’t need rescuing by the patriarchy’ made me want to violently fling the book from the terrace of my home, which was where I was reading at that point. Who speaks like that? Who writes like that? It’s the worst line ever written.

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 The author has tried to tackle so many issues at once that everything feels forced and fake. There’s the issue of Brexit with Craig scrambling to explain why those who voted out did so. There’s domestic violence, single parenting, the rich-poor divide, losing a loved one to cancer, and how messy and complicated divorce can be. It’s almost like Craig felt the need to address all these important issues just to have a say in the matter.

 Then, she also brings in race, religion, LGBTIQA+, and acid attack in the last 100 pages. They are there as an afterthought—Craig probably went ‘oh wait, I didn’t include these issues’ and hurriedly made things up, adding a line here, a paragraph there. The book is an utter mockery of serious issues that isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.