cutting for stone

This novel spans so much in a deeply troubling historical setting that when I was asked what the book I was reading was about when I was holding Cutting for Stone, I sort of mumbled “it’s about a doctor in rural Africa.” And that doesn’t cover, um, much of it. And yet, it IS the story. Or maybe it’s the context? It is a family epic, for sure, but also about a war refugee in America…

The opening is roughly 80 pages about a woman dying in childbirth, but it sets the stage for everything and everyone that you’re going to need to truly understand and deeply feel this story.

I will say, having finished the novel, I looked up a lot more of the medical terms than I needed to. The author is a celebrated Stanford doctor, and it shows. But I assumed I needed to know more than I did, so if I can save you a minute or two each page, I’m saying, just do what you do with fantasy character names and mumble the first letter of the word in your head, then move on with the story. You don’t really need to know which part of the kidney he’s cutting out, unless you’re interested in kidney surgery, in which case, I would assume you’ll find this to be a very gratifying read.

This story has a lot of really vivid images. One moment that stuck with me was an identical twin receiving his own gift for the first time on his tenth birthday - meaning, a gift just for him, that someone selected because they knew and understood him as an individual - versus both boys just getting a duplicate of the same thing since they were viewed as the same person. Fascinating.

Another memorable moment was a young man in medical school gaining knowledge rapidly, and realizing one day what killed his mother many years before, which had gone undiagnosed at the time. What an interesting and strangely tragic moment of discovery.

This is a very long book, and it’s not always a happy book. In fact, I might venture to say, it is rarely a happy book. And yet, it’s wistful. The book does not leave you feeling terrible. Abraham Verghese knows what’s he doing, even if it takes most of his characters a lifetime to figure it out.

Warning: This book contains a lot of war violence, including sexual violence and violence against children.

the wingfeather saga

There’s so much to say about this book series. I bought it for my son based on the faith reviews. When the TV show was announced, I had to read them before we could family-watch, as we have an official books-before-movies policy.

Once Andrew Peterson booked a concert at my church, I decided I had to read them faster so I’d be done in time! Fortunately, as these are children’s books, they are very fast reads, despite getting longer as they go. Also, the delightful titles North! Or Be Eaten and The Warden and the Wolf King… chef’s kiss. Perfection.

There’s definite darkness here, fair warning. Abduction, child slavery, family betrayal, war violence in general — I’d say at least Narnia level (but without the overt allegorical features).

Things you don’t understand yet but soon will:

Peet the Sock Man. Ships & Sharks. Blindplop. Toothy Cows. Podo.

And then he heard the most terrifying sound you can experience in the Glipwood forest: Moo.

I know that doesn’t make sense. Yet. So go read the series.

One warning: I would not have kept going if I didn’t have my son telling me how good the story is… because the beginning is rough. I mean, I love silly, but it is SILLY. In my opinion, the first few chapters do not match the tone of the rest of the series. I mean, it remains funny (expect fart jokes), but only in the context of a very compelling adventure.

I don’t want to ruin too much (mild spoilers ahead) — but things I loved:

• The little sister’s gift is the weak one UNTIL IT ISN’T and then you’re like WHHHHHAT and it’s just the best best best

• The older brother hates being the caretaker UNTIL HE DOESN’T and then you’re like WHHHHHAT and it’s just the best best best

• Ugly isn’t evil, but beauty isn’t kindness, either

• Fatherhood and adoption (possibly too speedy but we’ll give them that in a time of war)

• Dogs, of all sizes (all sizes)

• Troll poetry

• The way the humans have a choice to serve evil (and we do choose it) but at the same time cannot choose to be “good” ourselves, goodness/redemption is a gift at great cost

Do I love every single editorial choice in the books? No. I would complain about a few specifics (one big one, ahem, the golden bear).

Are the stories still fan-flippin-tastic? Yes. Read them with your family. You’ll cheer SO MUCH and probably a bit cry, too. And if fast jokes are you jam, you will also laugh.

black cake

Black Cake was such a beautiful book to read. I didn’t love the story the way I wanted because the family was too terribly sad, but the novel was gorgeous.

When I read names in novels I often just skim over them in my head (I know other people say they do it, too.) I think because of this, two large “reveals” in the book were ruined. I discussed the story with another reader who said she was surprised when she realized that two characters were the same person — and later that another two characters were also the same person. But I’d already made the pairs the same person in my head somehow, I guess due to my inattentiveness in focusing on the names? So I think that took something away from the story that might have felt more revolutionary as the book progressed.

Nonetheless, the writing was so engaging. The actual lyrical feeling of the words - expertly capturing emotion - made me want to keep turning pages (even though the brokenness of the characters made me want to quit). I definitely felt the heavy sadness of generational issues in this story.

Stories with two timelines can be done effectively, and although this was about the easiest plot mechanism ever to do that (listening to a recording from a dead character tell the story of the past), it was still really effective.

local woman missing

Local Woman Missing is outside the genres I normally read. I’m not the murder podcast type, nor usually the “who killed the nice lady” book reader.

Because of this, I can’t really judge if this book was unique. My gut is that it was pretty formulaic, if only because it was twisty and full of red herrings to make you feel confident-confused-resolved-suspicious-confused-ohhhhh as you read. I did feel all those feels, but it still left me with my basic problem with this genre. There is no happy ending because even if you find the woman “not dead” all I can think about is how broken she’s going to be and how much therapy her kids are going to need and how her marriage may fall apart in a year anyway from the stress.

So I guess my point is, alive is good, of course, but not happy. And as I get older, I like books that end with certainty. I want to know what the trajectory is after the story.

Still, this was a very fast-paced read and full of enough moments of creative dialogue that I certainly enjoyed it. I read it in two days, which means a book is keeping my attention.

I also thought this book had reasonable confusion, in that I questioned a lot of what I was reading from unreliable narrators vs. just a story that is convoluted. The author really established the varying perspectives and swapped around so that you had to really think who knew what.

the index of self-destructive acts

This book had a great first act, a good second act, and a little bit of a slow third act. The Index of Self-Destructive Acts became a tale of who the reader hates the most as the story progresses between characters. I’m not sure what it says about me as a person that by the end, the only character I could muster any sympathy for was the old white man who’d been cancelled for saying something deemed racist on ESPN. (Not that that was the cause of my sympathy, but at least he had dementia. The rest of the characters were making their terrible decisions in full possession of their faculties.)

One key takeaway from this book was a NEW, obscure baseball stat. Baseball loves a good obscure fact, and the index of self-destructive acts was a new one to me that I will certainly be tallying in the future with a freshly sharpened pencil. (Just kidding, I am not that guy.)

The setting was pleasant in that it was set in the historical time period of the Obama administration. Weirdly, it felt like it was “set” there, too, not just that the author had written a book before 2017. I mean, it was released in 2020 so maybe he did, but that’s not what it felt like. It felt like historical fiction set in the history of a decade ago.

I should have guessed from the title that this book would be about a lot of people unwinding their lives into tangled messes. (It was like watching all the disaster Poldark ensemble but without Demelza to cheer on—and frankly, she is the show.) There is no hero in The Index of Self-Destructive Acts, and there’s no anti-hero. There’s just a lot of people facing tough times and temptations and stress and making selfish or foolish or naïve (or illegal) decisions while you watch and turn the page to see what fresh horrors await.

Ok, I’m being a little dramatic, but they do a lot of stupid (extremely believable) things.

One note: I thought the author did a good job of portraying what I would assume is a lot of people’s experience with an extra-marital affair: a huge letdown. It wrecks your life, and the only thing that really captured your attention in the first place was the sneakiness. There’s zero payoff, just cost.

Since there was no one to cheer for in this story, I felt like the end dragged. I wasn’t waiting for revenge or vindication or certainly for any love to be requited. It was a slow burn of just waiting for the author to stop telling the story. Very little climax or conclusion. There were just no more words at the end. And then it was over.

the mountain between us

LOVED this book. Nothing had me glued like this since Project Hail Mary and Dark Matter. I love a good adventure, and this was a fantastic adventure. All of the stars.

You get over the fact that Ben’s a surgeon and survival expert pretty quickly because that’s why he and Ashley stay alive at all after the plane crash to begin with. So essentially, instead of “oh sure he just happens to have a knife,” you understand that you yourself would already be dead (“if I’m dead, you guys have been dead for weeks” dwight schrute).

It becomes less of an everyman-survival epic and more of a what-if-Bear-Grylls-and-I-survived-a-plane-crash-together story—and that’s ok, because you realize it would probably look a lot like this.

I haven’t seen the movie, and I’ve heard it ruins something very specific (avoiding a spoiler) so I’m going to say I won’t watch it and then instead watch it very begrudgingly in a few months.

This book caught my attention and held it so much that I read it from 9 pm until 1 am, then again from 5:30 am (when the baby woke up) until I was finished around 8:30 am.

I promptly threw it at my husband and announced, “You have until dinner to read this or I’m telling you the entire thing and spoiling the story which you will love.” He’s very smart, so he read it cover-to-cover immediately as well. He also loved it, although he did a bunch of math like a weirdo to determine how long Ben’s little campstove could have lasted and he swears Charles Martin overestimated.

The Mountain Between Us is more than the survival. It’s not just the backstory. It’s not just the “what if’s”. This book is just a perfect balance of everything that makes you tell yourself “one more chapter” and not put it down. Aside from having a very powerful pro-life message, it also has a very pro-marriage message which you infrequently find in books with any kind of romantic tension. You can truly love and hate the characters because they are real people.

Don’t read this on a plane (I mean, or do, maybe you live on the edge), but I loved every page of this book. And it has a great dog! Napoleon! The writing paces with my favorite slow-down-and-speed-up feeling where time passes endlessly for the suffering character in a paragraph or two, but you can also live in a moment for two full pages. I love that experience. Kudos to Charles Martin. This book is a masterpiece.