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My Friends, by Fredrik Backman***-****

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“Being human is to grieve, constantly.”

Well now. Fredrik Backman’s many fans ought to brace themselves for his latest novel. The feel-good stories he’s written, and written brilliantly, in years gone by are nowhere in evidence here; those of us that look to this author to bolster our sense of optimism and to remember that human beings are innately good are not going to find it. This book is far darker than anything he’s written to date, and I have no idea what is behind this sorrow and misery sandwich, but I am sorry it’s come to this.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria Books for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

Our premise is that a homeless teen artist, grieving the death of her best friend, befriends an older, dying street artist who turns out to be someone famous and revered in the art world. The artist senses in her a kindred spirit, and so his last act is to have his friend and business agent sell everything that the artist owns in order to purchase back one of his most iconic paintings and give it to her after he dies, because “She’s one of us.”

Okay. It’s a stretch, but it’s fiction, and after all, Backman generally delivers, so I’ll suspend disbelief and roll with it.

Nearly the entire remainder of the book consists of the friend, whose name is Ted, spilling his and the artist’s past to the girl, whose name is Louisa. He’s traveling by train, and so he takes her with him. We hear all about their childhoods together, along with the two other friends that made up their tightly knit friend group. At one point she runs off, and at another, they lose the painting and the artist’s ashes, but these constitute minor breaks in the otherwise unending conversation, which is nearly a monologue.

It didn’t take me long to be heartily sorry I had ever taken the galley; I finally bonded with the narrative at about the 60% mark, and from that point until just past the 80% mark, I was reading because I wanted to know what would happen next, or be said next, rather than from a sense of duty. For most of the final 20%, I was watching the page numbers and wondering if this thing was going to end, ever.

It’s hard to rate a book like this, because so much of my disappointment stems from my earlier admiration of Backman’s works. If this was written by someone with whom I was unfamiliar, would I rate it a little higher? But then, if the author wasn’t known to me, I likely wouldn’t have picked it up in the first place. The stark shift in the author’s world view is shocking, and I am still not entirely over it. I can only recommend this book to you if you need a grief book, because anyone in need of a good ugly-cry will surely find it here.

The Fisherman’s Gift, by Julia R. Kelly*****

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“Why is it, she asks herself, that we only ever remember the things we did wrong?”

Julia R. Kelly’s novel The Fisherman’s Gift tells a luminous tale of long ago, and it is one of the year’s best. My thanks go to NetGalley and Simon and Schuster for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

Dorothy lives alone in Skerry, a tiny Scottish fishing village, in the year 1900. She is an outsider, having moved here to teach the children; she marries and has a child, but when the child is tragically drowned, her husband leaves her, and now her life is one of solitude and regret.  Then a little boy washes up, a shipwreck victim, and Joseph, a fisherman that shares a past with Dorothy, brings him to the village; it is Dorothy that takes care of him, and every day, he seems more like her own lost boy. She wonders from time to time whether God has sent him back to her.

This is a beautifully written novel, glorious not only for what is said, but for what isn’t. Kelly crafts every character in the story with nuance, and so there are no bad people, and also no perfect ones. The entire book is written in third person omniscient, so we get a peek into one character’s thoughts, and then another’s. Sometimes this can be frustrating, because I want to climb onto the page and explain to one of them or another that what they’re thinking is wrong, and can’t they see that they have misunderstood a person, or an event? But when I yearn to do this, it’s because I believe every single word about every single character.

It’s a bittersweet tale to be sure, but readers can rest assured that Kelly won’t burn everything to the ground.

To those that love historical fiction, and to those that enjoy a good love story, I highly recommend this sweet story.

The Strange Case of Jane O, by Karen Thompson Walker***-****

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When I saw that the author of The Dreamers, had a new novel, I jumped at the chance to read it. While The Strange Case of Jane O isn’t of the same caliber as her previous effort, it’s a solid read.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Random House for the invitation to read and review. This book is available to the public now.

We have two main characters, Dr. Henry Byrd, a psychiatrist, and Jane O., his patient. Nobody else in the story matters very much; it all hangs on these two. Most of the narrative is told in the first person limited by Henry, in the form of clinical notes, as behooves his profession.

Jane is found unconscious in a public park, and when she awakens, she remembers almost nothing. She gives Henry’s name as her doctor, although he only saw her once, and on that occasion, she had walked out without sharing anything, saying the whole thing must have been a mistake. Nevertheless, she gives the hospital his name, and he goes. And so it begins.

Jane has strange gifts. She is able to remember every minute of every day; she invites him to give her random dates from the past, and each time, she can tell him verifiable things that happened that day, and at what time they occurred. But she also gives the names of people that have died…except they haven’t. It’s an unusual case, to say the least.

Henry himself has recently had his license yanked, and we learn very little about that. I guess he doesn’t like talking about it, but I still think the author should have made him do so. He is also raising a child alone, grieving the loss of his wife.

I won’t spoil the plot by telling more, but this is a fun read, one that held my attention from the start and didn’t let up. It’s well paced and full of surprises, until the ending, which I didn’t expect, only because I figured that Walker was too skilled an author to reach for something so banal. The pat, almost formulaic ending took the entire thing down a notch for me.

Many others liked it fine. My advice is that if you enjoy science fiction, go ahead and read it, but don’t pay full cover price unless your pockets are deep ones.

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/6857293731

Through an Open Window, by Pamela Terry*****

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“When you’re the last one with memories it’s like trying to hold on to hot sand.”

Author Pamela Terry never misses. Her debut, The Sweet Taste of Muscadines, forged such an emotional connection in me that if someone had told me they didn’t like it, I might not have cared for them as much as before. The same held true for her next work, When the Moon Turns Blue, which was every bit as good if not better. And now, with her new novel, Through an Open Window, I know that I will follow this author anywhere.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Ballantine Books for the invitation to read and review. This book will be for sale August 19, 2025. If you are female and have a beating heart, you should get it and read it.

We open with a scene from 1956. The local sheriff rescues two small children from a scene of horrific carnage; the baby girl is surrendered to the social worker before they find the little boy. The sheriff and his wife have been unable to have children, and want them so badly that instead of reporting the boy also, he takes him home and they keep him.

Cut forward now to the fictional town of Wesleyan, Georgia. A family is grieving the loss of its patriarch, Lawrence Elliot. His widow, Margaret is the first to receive a visitation—not from Lawrence, but from Great-Aunt Edith, who has been dead for years. Aunt Edith wants her to know something. And in fact, other family members will also see her at various times, in various places, but it’s not the sort of thing one shares with others. But Edith isn’t leaving until her message is received and understood.

As we see Margaret and her three adult children cope in different ways, we also see the interplay of their relationships to each other. This story is loaded with character development, and I believe each and every one, even Jubal, the rescued Clumber Spaniel that comes to live with Margaret. (I had never heard of this breed before, and now I kind of want one. Someone stop me!)

Events roll forward, and slowly we learn what it is that Edith is trying to convey, as the family does, and we find the tie-in to the prelude. It’s done brilliantly! Along the way, the author’s voice comes through in undeniable word smithery that forces me to highlight way, way too many passages to quote here. I experience the entire gamut of emotion, and when I near the ending, I am torn, wanting to read more slowly so that the book won’t end, but also needing desperately to know what is coming next.

The only possible improvement would be if Terry could write, and write up to the standard she has established, as fast as I can read, because I cannot wait for her next novel! She has become a favorite author, one I’d pay to read if I couldn’t do it free of charge. Highly recommended.

Too Old for This, by Samantha Downing*****

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Too Old for This is author Samantha Downing’s wickedly funny novel about a female serial killer. She’s retired now, living under an assumed name, but then a journalist comes to her door. She knows things and intends to write about them, and she won’t be dissuaded; then, of course, a woman has to do what she has to do.

My great thanks go to NetGalley and Berkley Publishers for the review copy. This book will be available to the public August 12, 2025.

Lottie Jones is 75 years old, living the quiet life of a single retired woman. Her son, Archie, is grown; Lottie’s chief delights are the bingo nights at the church and a bit of gossip here and there. A quiet life. Years ago, she was suspected of killing three people. Her name was splashed on the fronts of tabloids; she became a local pariah. In the end, however, she wasn’t even arrested following all of the harassment, and she successfully sued the city for damaging her reputation. The settlement was enough to start a new life for herself and her little boy, including the purchase of her home.

After one gets to be a bit older, one’s priorities and pleasures begin to shift. She doesn’t date anymore, for instance, and

“Like so many other things, murder began to feel like a chore instead of a joy. So I stopped. And I hardly ever thought about it, except in that nostalgic way. I didn’t want to go back, but I enjoyed the memories.”

The whole story is just as droll. It’s a strange alchemy, creating a likeable murderer; in the same way, the dissonance between her homicidal activities and the humdrum routines into which she has settled creates a hilarious sort of mental whiplash. One minute she’s warming up her rechargeable chainsaw to dismember her victim; the next she’s stewing about the snide remark someone at church made about the potluck dish she contributed, and gossiping about that person to her more sympathetic friends. And then her future daughter-in-law surprises her by dropping in unexpectedly, and she is concerned about Lottie’s safety, what with living alone, so she brings her a stun gun. “This was very thoughtful of her. No one has ever bought me a weapon before.”

At some point, I realized that after seeing the back of her head on the book’s cover so many times, I had mentally edited in what Lottie’s face would look like if she turned around. I pegged her as a doppelganger for Camilla Parker-Bowles.

The book’s ending is pitch perfect. Highly recommended!

The Hounding, by Xenobe Purvis***-****

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Who could walk away from this book cover? The Hounding, the arresting debut by Xenobe Purvis, is a story set during summer in eighteenth century England, in a tiny hamlet. Five motherless girls are given more freedom than is customary, and a rumor takes hold that the girls turn into dogs and wreak havoc on the village of Little Nettlebed.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Henry Holt for the invitation to read and review. This book will be available to the public August 5, 2025.

The Mansfield girls are being raised by their grandparents; their parents are long dead. But now, their beloved grandmother has died as well, leaving them in the care of their elderly grandfather, who is almost blind. It’s not a great summer for anyone else, either; there’s a dreadful drought that affects agriculture, and the riverbed is nearly dry. Then one day, Pete, the ferryman, tells the local gossip that he has seen the Mansfield sisters transform into dogs! Soon the rumor has spread, and others report that they’ve seen it happen, too; everyone wants to get in on the excitement.

The story tells a cautionary tale, not a new one, but a worthwhile one about the way society sometimes victimizes people that are a little different from most. There’s not much by way of character development, but this book is not about character or setting, it is purely plot-based. Purvis is a fine wordsmith, and since I was lucky enough to have both the digital and audio galleys, I found myself drawn into the narrative, first by the text, and then by the audio. Reader Olivia Vinall does a splendid job, and I recommend the audio version for those that enjoy the medium.

My only sorrow is that although this book is engaging, it could have been so much more. There are opportunities here that are left unfulfilled, and the plot twist at the end destroys the message that has been so carefully crafted up to that point. I find it frustrating. This is a good read, but it could have been a great one.

With that caveat, I recommend this book to you.

Maggie, or a Man and a Woman Walk into a Bar, by Katie Yee****

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Author Katie Yee makes her novelistic debut with Maggie, or a Man and a Woman Walk into a Bar. A mother of two young children is blindsided when her husband reveals that he is having an affair with a woman named Maggie; almost simultaneously, she learns she has breast cancer, and so she decides to name her cancer Maggie, too. Now she and her soon-to-be-ex each have a Maggie.  This novel is a vivid, authentic, utterly believable narrative that hijacked my attention from the other books I was reading. My thanks go to NetGalley and Simon and Schuster for the review copy. This book will be available to the public on July 22, 2025.

“They talk about women’s intuition…I never suspected a thing.”

The way that she contends with the news is completely different from how I would respond, and yet I believe her entirely. There’s no drama, no crying; at least, not when anyone is there to see her. Instead, she eats a lot and tries to maintain some dignity for herself. The scales are so badly skewed against her; Sam comes from heart stopping wealth, the sort of family that has multiple houses peppered around the U.S., and a couple of favorite places they like to stay in Europe. Our protagonist, whose name I am fairly sure is never provided, hails from the hardscrabble working class. And in leaving, her husband tells her that she can have the house as well as a generous chunk of alimony. If it were me and I were inclined to be nasty about it, all that money might stop me dead in my tracks, since clearly, the guy could get away with giving her far less if she really wanted to push him. 

So instead, she sets some hard new boundaries. She won’t tell Sam about the cancer, at least not yet. She doesn’t want the awkwardness, the one where she witnesses him struggling with what is the right thing to do, versus what he’d rather do. No, she decides, it’s not his business anymore. And then she names the cancer after his girlfriend.

Maybe she’s a little passive aggressive, but who can blame her? It’s all she has left.

This novel has some power behind it, and if this is Yee’s debut, I can hardly wait to see what she writes when she has more experience. I recommend this book to any woman that enjoys contemporary fiction, especially those that have been jilted, and to progressive-minded men as well.

Heal the Beasts, by Philipp Schott***-****

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Veterinarian Philipp Schott brings us another charming book, Heal the Beasts: A Jaunt Through the Curious History of Veterinary Arts. My thanks go to NetGalley and ECW Press for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

In his trademark style, Schott provides veterinary history through a series of brief vignettes. My favorite deals with Manvir, the constipated elephant. And with that, a word of caution: there’s plenty of gross material here, as one might expect; be advised in case, like me, you are fond of reading and eating simultaneously.

Among other things, we see a series of firsts—for example, Dr. Elinor McGrath was the first veterinarian in the world to perform tonsillectomies in dogs, in 1888. Chicagoans, be proud! The ancient Egyptians tended to spoil their pets every bit as much as many of us do today, and it was a crime to mistreat an animal.

There are also some fictional anecdotes and myths woven into the narrative, and I am not a fan of this, particularly since they are interspersed with factual material within the same chapter. My first preference would be to have everything here be nonfiction, but failing that, for goodness’ sake, separate out the fictional material. Put a little border around those anecdotes or something, don’t just drop them into the middle of true information!

That aside, I like this collection. Most animal lovers will enjoy it, but it would be especially nice to have in veterinary office or hospital waiting rooms. Recommended to those that love their pets—or other people’s.

Fever Beach, by Carl Hiaasen**-***

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What happened? I used to absolutely love novels by Carl Hiaasen. In his most recent release, Fever Beach, we see a conflict between good—in the person of our main character, Viva Morales—and evil, played by a variety of Proud Boys wannabees and other undesirables. The good person is always good; the bad guys have no redeeming qualities. Only Viva’s ex-husband is a dynamic character.

Still, my thanks go to Doubleday and NetGalley for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

As I read, I keep reminding myself that this is not a book I’m supposed to take too seriously, to lighten up and just roll with it. I certainly used to do so when reading Hiaasen’s work. But perhaps because of the stereotyping and complete lack of nuance, what might otherwise have seemed droll and satirical, instead comes across like a whole lot of cheap shots fired off the bow.

Mind you, I am certainly not a fan of ultraright organizations, and the rising tide of bigotry, fascist ideology and anti-Semitism concerns me greatly. But in an already highly polarized nation and world, all I can think as I read is that this story isn’t helping. It is the snobbery and elitism of the highly educated that has driven a large number of folks into the arms of extreme right; some intelligently reject the elitism and cancel culture consciously, but they aren’t in this book. In real life, those that are poorly educated and/or intellectually handicapped, as the bad guys in this book are, would in most cases give their right arms to wake up “clever” like Viva.  It strikes me as counterproductive to write a book that makes fun of right-wing intolerance, while practicing intolerance from a different angle.

Back in the day, before anyone judged anyone else by the color of their hat, I used to roar with laughter at this author’s work. Did it change, or did I? I would like to think it is the former.

I rated this book 2.5 stars and have rounded it upward, more from a fondness of his early novels than anything else. I do recall reading another of his more recent books—not for review, but just because I felt like it—and saw some of the same problems, so I will tell you that this book will probably work for you if you enjoyed his last one. Apart from that, I cannot recommend it.

Overkill, by J.A. Jance*****

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Overkill is the 18th book in the Ali Reynolds series. Ali and her husband, B. Simpson, run a cybersecurity firm. This mystery features two parallel problems. The first is when B’s first wife, Clarice, is accused of a murder that she didn’t commit. B. wants nothing to do with the problem—or Clarice—but Ali is convinced that she should look into it. The second problem is that Cami, the young woman that works for Ali and B., is being stalked while on a business trip. Both problems create a tremendous amount of suspense for the reader, and Jance is an expert at juggling many threads and details without dropping anything, while making the story clear enough that the reader can keep track. I enjoyed this book a great deal, and it’s for sale now.

My thanks go to NetGalley and Gallery Books for the review copy.

One of the things I love most about reading a J.A. Jance mystery is the feminist mojo she brings to every book. It’s subtle and built into the plot, rather than reading like a manifesto, but her sympathies toward working women, both professionals like Ali, and humble housekeepers such as the woman accused here, is manifest. It’s not an unusual mindset to encounter in a novel these days, but Jance has been doing it since long before it was common. In addition, her pacing never flags, and I don’t get confused by her plot lines, even when there are a good number of characters to track.

This is the first time I’ve used an audio version to read any of Jance’s books; I had fallen behind a bit, so I checked out the audio to keep me company on a road trip. Karen Ziemba does a fine job with the narration. I highly recommend this book to those that love the genre; you can read it as a stand alone if desired.