Much has been written about F. Scott Fitzgerald’s good times — the Gatsby years, the parties — but the aftermath is less examined. Stewart O’Nan’s latest novel, West of Sunset, imagines Fitzgerald’s last stages in life. Centered around his late-’30s Hollywood years, the writer see-saws between struggle and vindication while trying maintain some semblance of family.
Though I have not read or watched everything the Sherlock world has to offer, I am fond of smart people who are good at their job, so the consulting detective’s universe is interesting to me. Between those characters and enjoying Anthony Horowitz’s work on Foyle’s War, I wanted to like Moriarty a lot more than I did.
Ah yes, we’re in the thick of the year-end “best of” lists floating about the internet, but far be it from me to miss out on telling you what my favorites were this year. Are you in need of reading suggestions? Look no further.
Recently, the mister noted that I’ve become somewhat preoccupied with early 1900s “upper-crusty British people,” as he put it. Taking a look at my Netflix viewing and some of my reading, he’s not wrong. Though set in New York, Elisa DeCarlo’s The Abortionist’s Daughter fits snugly within a genre rife with burgeoning feminism and class considerations that are much like our young nation’s parent country.
The holes in our lives require energy. Everything after must be arranged around that absence, and that effort often continues the devastation. In After I’m Gone, Laura Lippman takes the disappearance of one shady businessman, Felix Brewer, and follows the repercussions on his wife, daughters, and mistress.
Cristina Henríquez’s newly published The Book of Unknown Americans, is not about immigrants’ relationship to white people. Ideally, this would not be unusual in a novel, but in a literary landscape that is still struggling with diversity, it’s refreshing to read her insightful take on the American Dream.
Set during World War I and promising an aristocratic feminist awakening, I wanted to like Somewhere in France a lot more than I did. Jennifer Robson’s story of Lady Elizabeth Neville-Ashford and Doctor Robert Fraser goes on too long for what is at stake, but it still has its redeeming qualities.
I’m home. The sun is shining, and it’s all good, but after the greatest summer in my hometown, I feel I need a lot more time to properly arrive. I’m still coming to terms with all the memories that hit me around the head at every street corner. Suddenly, it seems impossibly hard to make your home elsewhere. Read More This Open Thread Wants To Write A Book