Riverhead Books

Sometimes Mine

admin — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Genie Toledo, the best cardiologist in Ohio, is in the midst of an eleven-year passionate love affair with Mike Crabbe, a married basketball coach residing in another state. Their love affair has survived the initial hiccups of insecurity, jealousy, and possessiveness. After a decade of physical and emotional closeness they have settled into this arrangement, perfectly understanding and respecting each others boundaries, and traveling to meet each other every Thursday. A series of events, including Mike’s diagnosis of prostrate cancer place Genie in the middle of Mike’s family affairs. She eventually has to confront Mike’s wife Karen and her children and reveal the secret affair.

In Sometimes Mine, Martha Moody unravels the struggles of Genie Toledo: professional, single mother of a college aged daughter, trying to balance her professional and personal life. The author describes how a tragedy in her personal life makes Genie come out of the emotional shell she has woven around her, which results in her repairing the mother-daughter relationship.

Does Mike’s wife accept the relationship? The children’s reaction to the “other woman” in their father’s life makes this book an interesting read. Moody narrates the story from the “mistress” perspective, which is different from the usual approach. The author, without becoming melodramatic, describes the intricate relationship between the two women in Mike’s life—each dominating certain aspects of his life. Towards the end of the story we can see a bond developing between Genie and Karen, both seeking support and reassurance from each other.

Written by: Sunitha Jayan, August 29th 2010

Blonde Roots: A Novel

admin — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 17:34:00 +0000

By Bernadine Evaristo

Riverhead Books

Blonde Roots begins with a quote from Friedrich Nietzsche that partly explains Bernadine Evaristo’s motivation for writing the book:

All things are subject to interpretation: whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.

Most students of history now realize that it is the story of the victor; oppressed peoples often have that oppression continued through the erasure of their past. In an interview, Evaristo, of mixed English and Nigerian descent, mentions the UK’s lack of acknowledgment of its participation in the slave trade, her Portuguese last name, and migrations endured by her father’s family as evidence of this collusion of language and silence.

Blonde Roots is a novel that sheds new light on the atrocities of the slave trade through two interesting devices. The first and most obvious is the exchange of Africa for Europe. Evaristo’s uncivilized “whytes" are captured by Black slavers with a myriad of technological advantages. This exchange, as Evaristo intends, helps the reader to discover anew some of the ridiculousness of the logic of real-life slave traders.

In a scene that contains many of the book’s more readerly pleasures, protagonist Doris Scagglethorpe’s primary owner, Bwana, makes his first journey to the “grey continent.” His colleague Byakatonda, in the manner of Kurtz in Hearts of Darkness, has gone native in a primordial Eden. Instead of a sweating, starched British man with an unnamed wife, we see a man who has taken to wearing an uncivilized amount of “shit-colored” clothes and has married a savage named Pamela. Bwana, of course, would rather get frost-bite and would never touch a woman without the capacity for language. Details like this seem ridiculous until one considers the historical parallels. Coupled with compelling descriptions of the middle passage, the complicity of locals and neighboring countries, and the condition of Doris’ back after a lifetime of whippings, one feels fresh shock at what once passed for civilization. Readers easily root for Doris and remember the spirituals of American slaves as she is encouraged by others to “wade in the water” and attempt her escape.

A second device that Evaristo employs is the anachronism. While the England of the novel seems to still be struggling through a feudal system complete with armored knights and cabbage farmers, the continent of New Ambossa has guns. This difference can be explained as an attempt to show the reasons for African advancement, ala Jared Diamond’s Guns, Germs, and Steel. If one compares lack of clean drinking water in today’s Africa and to the waste of the United States, Evaristo’s world isn’t much of a stretch. Further, British feudal lord and all-around pompous ass Percy has a foreign madwoman in his attic, which, in addition to being delightful, could with other clues place the novel’s setting somewhere in the nineteenth century.

However, Evaristo inserts technologies and references from hundreds of years in the future, and describes her book as “atemporal.” For example, Doris’ first attempt at escape is through an underground railroad that is actually an abandoned tube system, and the Africans delight in their “chocolate cities” surrounded by impoverished vanilla suburbs. I appreciated the intent of this device—Evaristo states that she wanted the novel to take place out of time, so we can see how it is always occurring—but because some markers were in fact deeply rooted in time and current affairs, I found myself searching for a temporal anchor that was not to be found.

In addition to the obvious structures of these devices, some of the internal plotting was contrived. I found myself annoyed by obvious clues as to how and when important characters would reappear. Refreshingly, the ending was organic and realistic. Because of earlier contrivances, I began to lose my fear for Doris’ safety and well-being, but I was happy to learn that she did not, in fact, live happily ever after in an absolute sense.

Ultimately, Blonde Roots is successful, both as a work of fiction—I couldn’t put it down—and as an experiment with political implications. Evaristo humanizes the victims and, in some cases, the perpetrators of the slave trade and gives readers who thought they knew all of the answers about this important piece of world history new questions to think about.

Written by: H. V. Cramond, August 12th 2009

The Kept Man

admin — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 16:59:00 +0000

By Jami Attenberg

Riverhead Books

One thing I don't expect to find in a chick lit-type book* is a line like this: "The thing about fucking on coke is, afterward, there's no rolling over and going to bed." Oh. I'd never thought of that. In fact, much of this book elicits that response from me.

The premise of The Kept Man, when stripped of both clothing and flesh is, frankly, almost implausible: Jarvis Miller has been waiting for six years for her artist husband to either die or wake up from his coma. Ok, so that part isn't the most implausible part. Here it goes: Jarvis Miller's husband was a good artist. No, he was really good. No, he was so good she's been able to sell off his artwork and pay for his super-high-quality nursing care, and pay her bills, and keep her home, and not have to work. We meet her on the day she serendipitously encountered, engaged, and befriended three handsome male strangers—thus setting into motion a series of events which would change her life.

This, of course, is the problem with skeletons: somehow, when looking at the frame of a human form, it is impossible that those light, delicate, elegant, fragile structures could possibly support human weight. And, miraculously, they do.

It is true that Jarvis Miller's life does not model a 'standard' experience with health care, loss, relationships, nursing facilities, or laundromats. However, it seems just possible that any one person could have had precisely this experience. There are indeed artists, and these artists may indeed have wives. Some artists are indeed very talented, and talented people, like any others, may indeed suffer misfortunate accidents. There are some very good care facilities and some people, by fortuitous luck, are able to afford them. It is indeed possible to meet strangers and sometimes they do indeed become your friends. And change does indeed beget change. The effect is one of wryly humorous reality—it works.

I am delighted that the author did not choose a 'conventionally' happy ending, that she created a complex, dynamic female character (whether I would be her friend, I cannot say. But she is not one-dimensional) and that she abstained from moralizing her character's choices and experiences. And I was gently, soberly, realistically appreciative of the author's patience in revealing and discovering—to the reader as well as to Jarvis—the sometimes painful characteristics that defined Jarvis' marriage. Attenberg demonstrated marvelous control in her careful spinning forth of detail and revelation. An impressive first novel.

Disclaimer for transparency's sake: I am not calling this book chick lit, and I am not disparaging chick lit. This is certainly a book that will, generally, appeal to women and I—academic, grad student snob that I am—admit that the first thing I think when I see a fictional work whose primary market will be women is: "Hm? Where will this fit? Will this fit into a chick lit spectrum?"

Written by: kristina grob, April 26th 2009

Miles from Nowhere

admin — Sat, 14 Mar 2009 10:21:00 +0000

By Nami Mun

Riverhead Books

Present-day New York City is incomparable to its former seedy and dismal self. It was a city of survival up through the eighties, and as Nami Mun shows in her novel, Miles from Nowhere, people were either crushed by the city or driven to great lengths to make it through the day.

The story follows the teenage Joon, the daughter of a Korean family who immigrated to New York. It’s the early 1980's, and Joon’s father eventually leaves the family for good as he struggles to adapt to a new county. This causes Joon’s mother to mentally breakdown to the point where she becomes emotionally unavailable to her child. From there, the young Joon has limited choices: stay and take care of her mother or leave. Joon chooses the streets of New York and what follows is an at times tragic and at other times laughable yet heroic journey of survival in a big city that seems to loves no one.

What shines about Miles from Nowhere are the characters who will grip at your heart. The other teenage runaways that Joon befriends and falls in love with each have their own dark history yet still summon the courage to leave a heartbreaking situation in an effort to save themselves. From Knowledge, a smart and ethical-in-her-own way girl, to Lana, a transvestite working at a men’s club, we are left to imagine what must have happened in their lives for them to be in their position when Joon meets them.

Over the course of six years, Joon begins supporting herself first by working at a men’s club and then as a prostitute. She later struggles to live clean with average jobs, including selling Avon and working in a nursing home. Joon inevitably falls into drugs, gets pregnant and seeks an abortion, but throughout it all, she strives to attain a better version of herself, whether it is going to drug counseling, keeping a respectable job or even staying in a troubled relationship to another drug addict.

This entrancing story by Mun ultimately makes us ask and imagine what would teenagers have to go through to abandon whatever semblance of normal life they once had in favor or living on the streets.

Written by: Beverly Jenkins-Crockett, March 14th 2009

Please Excuse My Daughter

admin — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 01:49:00 +0000

By Julie Klam

Riverhead Books

This is one of the worst books I have read so far in my life. Its author, Julie Klam, is a definitive “poor little rich girl.” After a strange childhood spent shopping and sunbathing in New York with her wealthy relatives, our protagonist was left with few life skills and low test scores. Her mother often pulled her out of school just to shop at upscale department stores; hence, the origin of the book’s title, Please Excuse My Daughter. Klam’s life of princess privilege is so baffling, she decided to write a memoir about it (for some reason).

This is a sloppily-written collection of bourgeois remarks, self-pity, and bad judgment. Prepare to cringe at offensive comments (mostly sexist and fat-phobic), bad decisions (she loaned thousands of dollars to a deadbeat boyfriend), and exhausting celebrity name-dropping (David Letterman, Barbara Streisand, Rod Stewart). I kept wishing that she’d stop mentioning cashmere sweaters and “buttery highlights” all the time.

I tried to be fair while reading this book. I wanted to regard Klam with feminist alliance. I read diligently to see what wisdom she had to offer us. I used to love the TV show Pop-Up Video, which she worked for. I was morbidly fascinated by the details of her rich family’s extravagance. What could I learn from someone whose upbringing was the total financial opposite of mine? Not much, apparently.

Though Klam does an excellent job of persuading readers to raise their daughters to be capable and responsible, instead of pretty princesses, this book provides little else (besides lukewarm, “chick-lit” humor and tales from an alien world of great wealth and social status). Keep in mind that I felt tenderly sad for Klam when life slammed her with obstacles that would have stirred even the most weather-worn person. I can only imagine how difficult it was to deal with the cold reality of life after being incredibly spoiled. I’d hug her, if only she didn’t annoy me so much!

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, April 18th 2008

Always

admin — Tue, 24 Apr 2007 23:49:00 +0000

By Nicola Griffith

Riverhead Books

Norwegian Aud Torvingen was born into a life of wealth and privilege. The former police officer gives back to the community by teaching women self-defense. The new women in her latest course cross all social and financial lines so that a southern society belle is on an even footing with a housewife. The women savor each other’s triumphs until one day one of them has to put into practice what she learned.

After dealing with officials following the woman’s act, Aud flies to Seattle where she owns property that she must clean up as her property manager violated OSHA and EPA rules. The woman was stealing from Aud’s account pretending to fix things while pocketing the money and forcing tenants to move out quickly. Aud tries to buy land on either side of her warehouse. Her warehouse is currently rented by a movie company that is plagued by incidents threatening to bankrupt the company. As Aud cleans up the mess caused by fraud, she finds the perfect person for her, but obstacles stand in their way.

As always Nicola Griffith provides a classic noir heroine who sees herself as strong and capable. Always is as much a crime thriller as it is a woman coming to terms with her vulnerabilities making for a deep character study of the self-assured lead female and to a degree the support cast. Aud is terrific as she recognizes her shortcoming of gullibility, but plans to correct her error personally while still trusting those deserving of it. The two separate subplots rotate chapters with Aud the furious female fury as the link to a fine character-driven thriller.

Written by: Harriet Klausner, April 24th 2007