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If there is a movie adaptation of a book on Netflix that I haven’t read, I will put off watching it till I’ve gotten around to reading the book. It’s a crime to watch the movie before you’ve read the book, right? I think it should be. However, I must confess, I watched ‘Bird Box’ before reading Josh Malerman’s debut novel by the same name. I had heard so much about it that I just couldn’t stop myself from hitting play. Also, Sandra Bullock, who portrays the protagonist Malorie, is one of my favorite actors.

Bird Box is a dystopian novel where unseen creatures, whose mere sight drives people crazy enough to kill themselves, are taking over the planet. At the beginning of the story, Malorie is seen leaving the house with two children she calls ‘Boy’ and ‘Girl’ to go on a boat ride up the river in search of the safe place that is presumably somewhere out there. The catch is that they are blindfolded and Malorie and the children have to listen carefully to navigate their way despite not being able to see the danger that lurks around them. The narrative alternates between their journey up the river and Malorie’s flashbacks to events that led them to that point.

This is the first time I watched a movie and then read the related book. It’s also perhaps the only time I have liked the movie adaptation better than the book. Is it because I watched the movie first and Malorie was Sandra Bullock instead of a character in my head? Is it because the tension is palpable in the movie and not so much in the book where things appear rather laid back at times? Or is it because I already knew what was going to happen and waiting for it to unfold page by page was a bit taxing?

The book feels a bit stretched out. Malerman builds up tension, a sense of danger, only to have it fizzle out. And there are quite a few such incidents. Then, you know there are some dangerous creatures out there but you don’t know what they are and you never find out. That curiosity is never quelled. It’s frustrating.

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoyed the book. I had a good time. I was a nervous wreck every time I got a sense that something was about to happen. I was rooting for the other survivors—namely Tom, Olympia, Jules, Cheryl, and Felix—even when I knew they were doomed. It’s just that I think I would have loved the book a whole lot more had I read it before watching the movie. Note to self: Never again.

3 stars
Fiction
Bird Box
Josh Malerman
Published: 2014
Publisher: Harper Collins
Pages: 379, Paperback

There’s a lot of Young Adult fiction out there these days. I’m a bit jealous of those who are able to grow up reading these uplifting, important stories that help you understand yourself and the world around you. I wish the stories that are being written today were there when I was growing up. Armed with the wisdom, might I have made fewer mistakes, been a less difficult daughter, and had as much sense at 25 as I think I have now, a decade later? I’d like to believe so.

 The YA books that I’ve been reading in recent times have made me slightly more compassionate and tolerant of people and ideas that don’t necessarily support my stand on things. They might have hit differently and I might have gotten far more out of them had I read them earlier, as a teen or in my 20s. When I was growing up, I was reading mostly for entertainment and stories largely served that purpose too. Not that there is anything wrong with that. But the books that are being written now, with the added value of insight and the experiences of the characters, are so vast and varied.

‘Simon vs. The Home Sapiens Agenda’ is a much-talked about book. Many adult book clubs have chosen to read and discuss this YA novel and almost every booktuber I follow on YouTube has raved about it. Becky Albertalli’s debut novel tells the story of 16-year-old Simon Spier who is gay but hasn’t come out. The only person who knows the truth is a boy named Blue, another closet gay teen. The two meet through Tumblr and they communicate via emails. Both have no idea who the other person is.

Then one day, a boy named Martin reads Simon’s emails to Blue on the school computer after Simon forgets to sign out of his email account. Martin now knows his secret and he wants Simon to help him date Abby, the new girl in school. If he doesn’t figure out how to do that, then Martin is going to tell the entire school that Simon is gay.

What follows is a part-hilarious, part-moving story about the angst of growing up and learning to accept yourself for who you are. It’s also a tender and poignant tale of friendship and love. I thoroughly enjoyed it. The only reason I gave it three stars is because I’m quite stingy with my four and five stars and reserve those for books that blow my mind and have me blabbering about them all wide-eyed. Simon vs. The Home Sapiens Agenda might not have had that effect but it was still a great read.

3 stars
Fiction
Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda
Becky Albertalli
Published: 2015
Publisher: Penguin Books
Pages: 303, Paperbac

Simply put, Yaa Gyasi is a genius. Her books, and there are two, brim with an unparalleled understanding of the human mind and condition. You don’t just read her stories—you feel and live them. Gyasi, whose debut novel ‘Homegoing’ was published in 2016, has a subdued writing style that makes every word seem important. In 2017, Gyasi was selected as one of Granta’s Best of Young American Novelists and in 2019 BBC selected her debut as one of the 100 Novels That Shaped Our World.

‘Transcendent Kingdom’, Gyasi’s second work of fiction, was probably the most awaited book of 2020. The internet was abuzz with anticipation for another masterpiece from a brilliant writer who was only getting started. And she didn’t disappoint. The book is an excellent meditation on life and how we are sometimes consumed by our losses. But it also celebrates the resilience of human spirit and the way we don’t stop trying to rebuild our lives.

The novel’s protagonist is Gifty, a PhD candidate at Stanford University, who is running an experiment on mice to study the neural circuits of reward-seeking behavior. The mice are addicted to a sugary energy drink and caged in a behavioral testing chamber fitted with a lever that administers either the drink or an electric shock. With the help of optogenetics, Gifty is trying to identify which neurons are firing whenever the mice press the lever. She is interested in those mice that can’t stop pushing the lever, even after being shocked dozens of times.

The experiments are Gifty’s way of trying to figure out why humans do what they do. The driving force behind the study is her need to understand why her brother Nana couldn’t get over his drug addiction and make sense of his death due to overdose. Gifty hopes her work will someday lead to an effective diagnosis and treatment of addiction. Then, her mother comes to live with her after suffering from a relapse of the severe depression she had after Nana died and Gifty’s carefully crafted world crumbles. She is forced to confront some traumatic memories as she takes care of her mother.

I have always loved narratives that explore parent-children relationships. They help me make sense of the complex ways in which we are often forced to navigate it. Stories like that make me realize that you don’t always have to understand your parents and that love is still possible without it. In that way, Transcendent Kingdom really hits home and leaves you with a bittersweet feeling. It’s sad, it’s contemplative, and, above all, Gyasi’s power-packed prose haunts you for days after you finish the book. 

Four stars
Fiction
Transcendent Kingdom
Yaa Gyasi
Published: 2020
Publisher: Viking
Pages: 264, Paperback

I have read many thrillers. So many that I’ve lost count. Over the years, I have become really good at figuring out who the bad guy is. I would say I’m right 95 percent of the time. Let’s up that to 97 percent. You can tell I’m quite smug about it, can’t you? So, when I’m more than halfway through a thriller novel and still can’t guess who the murderer/stalker/rapist is, I have to give it to the author for weaving a unique and captivating narrative. I have to concede defeat.

‘The End of Her’ by Shari Lapena never gave anything away despite having so much going on. I could not make up my mind about any of the characters. They all seemed flawed and perfect at the same time—very human. One moment I would think I had it all figured out, and the next I would be unsure again. The plotline isn’t unique but what Lapena has done with it is phenomenal.

Stephanie and Patrick are adjusting to life with their colicky twin girls in New York. Stephanie is a stay-at-home mom and Patrick works a nine-to-five job to foot the bills. Despite being largely sleep-deprived, they are happy. Then Erica arrives. She was Patrick’s first wife’s best friend. She also had an affair with him. Now, she claims Patrick murdered his first wife. She then starts blackmailing the couple, threatening to go to the police otherwise.

Patrick insists he is innocent, that his first wife died of carbon monoxide poisoning. She was in the car while he was shoveling snow right before they were to leave to visit her parents. But Erica says he wanted her out of the picture so that he could start all over. She says she was too scared to come forward earlier. But she wanted to warn Stephanie when she found out he had remarried. Then, why is she blackmailing them? Did Patrick really kill his wife?

 The entire novel reads like the last 50 pages of a thriller; there is so much happening and so many gasp-inducing moments in each page right from the start. There are also other engaging sub-plots that weave into the story and make it compelling. Author Linwood Barclay called Shari Lapena ‘The queen of the one-sit read’ while Steve Cavanagh said she was one of the best thriller writers in the business. The End of Her was my first Lapena book and I’m a fan. Immediately after finishing The End of Her, I started searching for her other books and I’m elated I found ‘A Stranger in the House’. If it’s even half as good as The End of Her, it should be another fantastic read.   

Four stars
Fiction
The End of Her
Shari Lapena
Published: 2020
Publisher: Penguin Random House  
Pages: 414, Paperbac

There are books that make you cry ugly tears. You have to sometimes put them down and actually walk away because you need time to recover. But you can’t do that with Suleika Jaouad’s ‘Between Two Kingdoms’ because hers is a story that’s heartbreaking and inspiring at the same time. You want to keep reading, though your eyes are glazed with tears and your heart shatters every now and then.

Jaouad was 22 when she was diagnosed with a rare form of acute myeloid leukemia and given a 35 percent chance of survival. Over the next four years, she went through rigorous chemotherapy, became a part of a clinical trial, and finally underwent a bone-marrow transplant that left her weak and heavily dependent on her caregivers—her parents and then-boyfriend she refers to as Will.

What makes this book different from other cancer memoirs I have read is that Jaouad doesn’t just share her experiences. Instead, she tells you what was going on in her mind while dealing with such a traumatic event, and that too when her friends were kick-starting their careers, traveling the world or settling down. It’s not about the event as much as it’s about her reaction to it.

As cancer ravaged her body, Jaouad’s spirit got stronger. She knew she might not make it but she would find little things to keep her going. One of them was the 100-day project. She decided she would write in her journal every single day, even when she couldn’t sit up. She had been considering a career as a war correspondent before cancer (B.C as she puts it) so writing was always something she enjoyed. She proposed to write a series of blog posts for The New York Times. Her column, ‘Life, Interrupted’ got her a steady fan-following and responses from other people who were going through difficult times themselves.

In Between Two Kingdoms, Jaouad hasn’t tried to present in a way to make you sympathize with her. She is selfish, needy, and even mean to those she loves. She breaks things in anger, says unspeakable things to her boyfriend when she knows he has always put her needs before his. She doesn’t sugarcoat her flaws and uses cancer as an excuse for her horrid behavior.

I would have probably given it a five-star rating had the book not felt a bit stretched in the end—where Jaouad embarks on a road trip with her dog, meeting people who had written to her and helped her in some way or the other. That aside, Jaouad’s writing is stunning and her story can inspire us to try and do--and be--our best but not be too hard on ourselves when we can’t either. 

4 stars                                                              
Non-Fiction
Between Two Kingdoms
What Almost Dying Taught Me About Living
Suleika Jaouad
Published: 2021
Publisher: Bantam Press
Pages: 348, Paperback

Confession time: I’m smitten by Benjamin Alire Sáenz’s ‘Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe’. Ever since I finished it, I’ve been dreaming about it (quite literally too—Dante made a guest appearance in my dream where my dad was trying to train our dog to do somersaults by doing it himself). The title initially felt like a mouthful but, after reading it, I realized it beautifully sums up the book’s essence. The cover is gorgeous too. 

It’s a YA novel but I believe it will resonate with readers of all generations. I wish I had read the book as I was growing up. It would have definitely broadened my then-narrow perspective on gender and relationships. I plan to reread it soon and see what nuances I might have missed in this beautiful coming-of-age story that is a though-provoking exploration of sexuality and identity.

The book is about two Latino boys, Aristotle or Ari and Dante, who first strike a friendship at the pool where Dante teaches Ari how to swim. The two lead different lives—Dante, the son of professors, is a confident boy while Ari is shy, comes from a modest background and has a brother in prison. Ari is an angry teen while Dante has an unusual way of looking at things. They seem to have nothing in common but surprisingly get along well.

The story is narrated by Ari and though his view colors the narrative, every other character still manages to shine through. Dante specially wins your heart with his charming ways. The family dynamics between the characters and their parents is engaging. There is also a strong sense of disavowal of toxic masculinity—Danta cries easily and doesn’t feel the need to express his dominance through violent acts. I feel there is a need to explore the vulnerable side of men in literature to reinforce the idea that strength has nothing to do with being unemotional and that emotionality is a feminine trait.

As the boys transition into young adults, Sáenz portrays different facets of growing up, focusing mainly on masculinity and the complicated, often warped, ways in which we start developing ourselves. The book also deals quite a bit with race, ethnicity, homophobia, and psychological trauma. Sáenz has been able to bring these elements together without anything feeling distorted and confusing the reader. It’s all seamless. Some chapters are long and some are short but each is impactful and crucial to the overall plot.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe doesn’t have plot twists and intense drama. The simplicity of the story is what makes it compelling. The story consumes you, and refuses to let go of its hold long after. It was the hopeful and uplifting read I needed during what felt like a desperate and bleak time. It was a soothing balm to my lockdown woes.

Five stars
YA Fiction
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe
Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Published: 2012
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Pages: 359, Paperback

Tambudzai is a black Zimbabwean woman in her forties living in a women's hostel in Harare. It’s a temporary arrangement as she is older than the permitted age and has to find a place of her own soon. But having quit her job at an advertising agency after white male co-workers got credit for her work, she is struggling to find accommodation and employment. The traumatic experiences and hardships that she goes through affect her mental health and she is even institutionalized for a while. All in all, Tambudzai or Tambu has a difficult life.

Tsitsi Dangarembga’s novel ‘This Mournable Body’ that got shortlisted for the 2020 Booker Prize is somewhat bleak. But despite the general theme of despair running through the book, This Mournable Body is actually a story of triumph and the strength of the human spirit to persevere. Tambu is aware of the brutal reality of her situation but she never loses her sense of self. She is a strong character. She is every woman who has ever found herself in a difficult situation.

This isn’t a book without problems—it’s slow, for instance—but it shifts your perspective on things and that’s an important kind of storytelling. But what I loved about the book is that it is narrated in second person from Tambudzai’s perspective. You feel like you are Tambudzai and literally in the midst of all that is happening. Tambu is sometimes quite self-centered and thus a difficult character to like. If it hadn’t been for the writing style that put me in her shoes, it would have been frustrating to understand or feel connected to her.

I did, at various points in the novel, wish I knew more about Tambu—where she came from, what her childhood and growing up years were like, and how she ended up where she was. Turns out, This Mournable Body is actually the concluding novel in a trilogy. You needn’t have read the previous parts to pick up this book—it works fine as a stand-alone novel. But reading the other two books will definitely give you a better sense of things.

The first book, ‘Nervous Conditions’, published in 1988, is about Tambudzai’s childhood. The second, ‘The Book of Not’, out in 2006, follows her time at convent school before she starts working in advertising. Set 20 years later, the final instalment of the series chronicles the later years of Tambu’s life. It’s a sad depiction of how the education system is filled with false promises for black Zimbabwean women and how they deal with that reality. It’s also an essential commentary of sorts on class, race, and misogyny that divide most societies even today.

Three stars

Fiction

This Mournable Body

Tsitsi Dangarembga

Published: 2020

Publisher: Faber & Faber Limited

Pages: 363, Paperback

Nineteen-year-old Sadie’s life hasn’t been easy. Raised by a mum who is at best indifferent, she realizes early on that she is going to have to get by on her own. She is fiercely protective of her little sister, Mattie, and tries her best to take care of her after their mother, Claire, runs away. Then Mattie is found dead. The police investigate but nothing conclusive comes out of it. Sadie knows who murdered Mattie and she is determined to bring the killer to justice.

Sadie buys a cheap car that’s quite literally falling apart and, with only a few meager clues to follow up on, hits the road. Along the way she meets many characters who take the story down different interesting paths. There’s a cranky waitress at a diner, a young woman on the run whom Sadie picks up as hitchhiker, and some high school kids whose lives are on the opposite spectrum of Sadie’s.

The basic premise is simple and straightforward but ‘Sadie’ by Courtney Summers is essentially a dark, heartbreaking YA novel about the price children end up paying when their parents make bad decisions. As Sadie searches for her sisters’ killer, you see how her entire life has always revolved around being there for Mattie, filling a place where their mother should have been. In fact, ‘Sadie’, I believe, shouldn’t really be slotted as YA. It will appeal to adults as well and make us value the things we have, so far, taken for granted. The beauty of ‘Sadie’ is that at no point does it just feel like a thriller novel. There’s a social drama element to it that makes it relatable and real.

The book alternates between chapters from Sadie’s perspective as she tries to track down a man who seems to have many identities and a true crime radio show transcript run by West McCray. He is trying to find Sadie by following whatever information May Beth Foster, Sadie’s surrogate grandmother, and the police are able to provide him.

The narrative is compelling and Summers is great at building anticipation and making you work your grey cells to try and figure out what might have happened. I remember reading somewhere that Summers, who has many other fantastic books to her credit, doesn’t believe in neat, happy endings. But what happened in the end in this book blew me away. I can’t get the story out of my head—and I have already read two other books and some short stories after completing ‘Sadie’. It still haunts me. And I think it will for a long, long time.

What makes the book so good?

The format in which it is written, alternating between the protagonist’s perspective and a radio show transcript.

Courtney Summer’s restrained and sparse writing that makes for a gripping narrative.

Interesting characters that Sadie meets along the way that don’t let the story take on a one-track mundane tone. You enjoy getting to know these fascinating, at times weird and disturbed people.

Rating: 3.5
Fiction
Sadie
Courtney Summers
Published: 2018
Publisher: Wednesday Books
Pages: 322, Paperback