Kristina McMorris’ 2018 novel, Sold On A Monday, just recently reached the 1 million mark of copies sold. It’s not difficult to see why, nor why it’s the author’s most rated book on GoodReads – inspired by a real photograph taken in 1948 of children sat on a porch, a sign saying ‘4 children for sale’ in front of them, it offers a rather unique premise.

McMorris sets her tale in 1931, and her fictional photograph sports two children rather than the four seen in real life. Ellis, a photographer and reporter in Philadelphia, originally sees two children ‘for sale’ on a non-work related trip out and, when his photograph of the scene is lost after having been shown to an appreciative boss, he goes back to the location and stages a new photograph, this time with different children. This may or may not lead to Ellis’ big break – he’s been wanting to be more than a society pages writer for ages – but it will definitely lead to the contents of this new, staged, photograph, becoming a reality. In tandem we have Lily, a single mother who is hoping to rise beyond her current station of secretary, to become a reporter. Lily is the person who introduced the boss to Ellis’ work.

McMorris’ decision to focus on Ellis and Lily’s experiences may be surprising (certainly I was expecting the story to focus on the children from the perspective of those children) but it is nevertheless a fascinating decision. Hailing from a media background herself, McMorris has steeped the book in the world of the newspaper and the historical details and storytelling in general mean it is rich in atmosphere and period dialogue. Interestingly, the book is pretty long, with lots of twists and turns as it moves towards its conclusion, but thanks to the overarching idea of the news, the busy nature of it all ensures the book never drags.

The main characters are well drawn, with both characters effectively sharing the theme of family; Lily’s has motherhood included. Ellis is driven in his career not just for his own benefit but to prove to his father his worth as a son. Lily is driven similarly, wanting to be a reporter for herself but also seeing the need to better her situation for her son; her parents own a business but this is the post-WWI 1930s and she wants her own career; she sees a role model in Nellie Bly, the (factual) journalist who emulated Phileas Fogg.

Another character in particular deserves a mention – Clayton. He is a star reporter at the Philadelphia paper and McMorris has done a splendid job in her portrayal of him. It’s not even a question of character development, just the way she’s written about him each time he is either in a scene or mentioned by others (generally Lily). Is he friend or foe? Is he the right choice or not? In the plot thread he is most included in, McMorris does a great job at really making you believe something is possible even when common sense and any experience in reading will tell you it’s not, and whether or not it does happen (I won’t spoil it) doesn’t, to that end, really matter. A brief mention should be given to co-worker ‘Dutch’, who also defies literary stereotypes, just to a much lesser extent than Clayton.

So to those twists and turns, as said, there are a lot of them but they work. After a chunk of time spent focusing on Ellis and Lily, McMorris moves on to the children, albeit still through Ellis and Lily’s eyes. It’s worth noting that McMorris has significantly improved the outcome of the major event when compared to the real life story – thankfully, it must be said; read the reality and McMorris’ tale is a welcome change. The twists and turns themselves keep coming to a degree but they always move the story on, and, perhaps, given what I’ve said about Clayton, one of McMorris’ overall aims is to show the grey in every story; you very often think you’ve spied a villain only to be given cause to wonder if that’s quite correct.

Sold On A Monday tells a difficult tale in a very good way. Its secondary focus on family and motherhood is rather wonderful and helps in the exploration of the primary idea, while never losing sight of the historical context. This is a fantastic book.

Publisher: Sourcebooks
Pages: 289
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-492-66399-7
First Published: 28th August 2018
Date Reviewed: 2nd May 2023

Three full books, almost half another book and a couple of hundred pages of another; I will take it. The reading is going better than it has for months so that is a definite positive.

All books are works of fiction.

Kate Thompson: The Little Wartime Library – When Bethnal Green Library was bombed during the Blitz, the remaining stock is moved to the unfinished Bethnal Green Underground Station which is being used to house East Enders safely away from the streets of London; we follow children’s librarian Clara and her friend Ruby as they help keep up the borough’s morale through the wonders of reading. This is a book big on community and looking at the small pockets of goodness that happened during the war, focusing of course on the value of reading, and while the reading may be important, the community is the best bit. Thompson’s use of language is also great – very British, very right for its time and location.

Kristina McMorris: Sold On A Monday – Ellis takes a posed photograph of two children with a sign beside them that states they are for sale; the family is poor but doing okay, however the photograph leads to the sign being taken literally. A book full of the ways 1930s newspapers worked, this is a delight to read (perhaps so long as you go in knowing it’ll focus on things from the angle of the newsroom rather than the children themselves).

Orlando Ortega-Medina: The Fitful Sleep Of Immigrants – Marc takes on a couple of cases that are the antithesis of the cases his company usually works on and finds himself with an obsessed client. Meanwhile his partner, Issac, receives letters to attend court for deportation over his earlier arrival in the US as an undocumented asylum seeker. A very satisfying thriller and book in general.

This coming month I’m hoping to finish These Violent Delights, maybe (hopefully) Voyager, and get started on a number of others.

What did you read this month?

Allow me another of these in such a fairly short period of time. I’m deep into Voyager now, 300 or so pages in but it’s got to the good bit (where you know it will go if you’ve read the second book) and so I’m reading it in earnest. I’ve been watching season 2 of the show, and may well start watching season 3 within the next few days, just staying behind where I’m up to in the book. I’m still finding reading and then watching very satisfying and my high opinion of the show and the changes they’ve made continues to stay the same.

Spoilers incoming for Dragonfly In Amber: The one thing I’m really struggling with, on both sides as it happens now (which in many ways is another plus for the show because they are faithful to the book the majority of the time) is Roger and Brianna’s relationship. I’m thinking of writing a dedicated post on this but having spent time mulling it over I wonder if the reason has to do with the relationship being relatively mundane and ‘normal’ when compared to a heady and exciting time traveller romance where the focus on the handsome historical man is rather paramount. I wonder whether the fact that Roger and Brianna are present day (well, 1968 to be exact) is part of it, and I wonder whether their relationship is very bog standard and unexciting deliberately to either further highlight the romance between Claire and Jamie or as some sort of comment on the fact that Claire and Jamie’s is a once-in-a-blue-moon, literally fantastical relationship, whereas Roger and Brianna are realistic (well, beyond their capacity to time travel, as it appears they will be doing… and I’ve seen the screenshots of the show of them in historical dress). That latter thought, though, is, I realise, me applying literary thought to the book where it may not be warranted. I really hope the chemistry improves – for starters, I badly need to see more of them to start believing it, and this is where I think the show will do better than the books as the TV team were quicker to show a variety of viewpoints than Gabaldon is in her novels.

Having finished Orlando Ortega-Medina’s The Fitful Sleep Of Immigrants – which I did very much enjoy – I started Chloe Gong’s These Violent Delights. It has started pretty strongly but a little confusing in terms of motives for the characters, who in this book are gang members – the story is based on Romeo And Juliet – and I’m hoping for a strong set of reasons to feel empathy for the characters beyond the fact of their relationship to Shakespeare. The commentary surrounding colonialism, various countries taking their slice of Shanghai, and China in general, has a lot of promise.

My next book was supposed to be Amanda Prowse’s All Good Things but I’ve had a time of it on the download attempts front and so am not sure if that will happen – Chloe Gong’s book is me moving on in my reading for now. One I have added and successfully downloaded however, is Phoebe McIntosh’s Dominoes – Andrew Blackman wrote a very positive review of Dominoes on his blog and so I went looking for a copy. I’m very excited to get started on it.

What are you looking forward to reading after your current book?

Orlando Ortega-Medina’s third novel, publishing a few years after the almost psychedelic in atmosphere, semi-religious The Savior Of 6th Street, offers a difference to his previous books. Whereas the others have been quite individual in terms of content and specifics of genre (though they are no less fantastic for it), The Fitful Sleep Of Immigrants sees the author turning 90 or so degrees towards the mainstream; the book, whilst still sporting what could be termed classic psychological and thriller Ortega-Medina elements, offers its story to an additional audience or two.

This new novel looks at a few impactful periods in the life of one Marc Mendes, a lawyer from San Francisco via Los Angeles, via, in heritage, Cuba, Spain, Syria, and Israel. Marc’s religion, and religious and cultural heritage, as well as his sexuality, inform almost every part of this novel, and it’s to stunning effect. In the ‘present day’, which in this book is 1997, Marc is in a happy and long-term relationship with Issac, a political refugee from El Salvador. This starts to change when Marc’s law firm is approached first by a man who has been accused of murder and then, later, when Issac finds himself looking at possible deportation for illegal entry and settlement in the US. Surrounding and informing this present day narrative is Marc’s relationship history, a romance in his younger years that later took a very sorry turn.

Ortega-Medina takes these subjects and many more and handles them with aplomb. Using his unique style of writing – conversational on the surface with a tougher interior – the author takes his character on a personal and relational journey that begins with of all his life’s problems cropping back up at once. It’s fast-paced, and every so often verges on the confusing, which is absolutely on purpose. You are always with Marc and, as Marc is told himself, he can be an unreliable narrator.

The keyword of the title, ‘immigrants’ wraps around everything else in the novel, holding it together with a couple of different glues. The main aspect of the novel in a variety of ways, immigration and its link to asylum and forceful exportation comes into play in Marc’s thoughts of his family heritage and, more so, understandably, Issac’s presence and life in the US. The author’s explanation of Issac’s situation is slow with fair reason; set in the 90s, people in the US especially would have hopefully had some idea of the situation but, more importantly and more notably, Ortega-Medina asks us as readers to decide for ourselves what should be the outcome for Issac based on more than the simple laws because the simple laws do not allow anywhere near enough space for specifics; there is then the point that every case needs to be looked at personally and with empathy in addition to the idea of specifics. And so we see Issac as Marc sees him, as many people see him – a phenomenal person who has triumphed, who has given back in spades to the country he came to live in, and who has made a comfortable long life with a US citizen. When Ortega-Medina does fill you in completely, towards the end, it only adds spades more to how you feel that it is right that Issac be given the lawful right to stay.

So Issac is a wonderful character, and it would be great to hear even more from him, but here we are with Marc. Marc’s life is very messy. A key part of his progression as a character comes in the form of Alejandro Silva, a client who Marc is drawn to due to a resemblance to a past partner, Simon. Alejandro does his best to get Marc’s attention and does so on a number of occasions due to Marc’s conflation of him with Simon, and whilst the plot thread is drawn out possibly to your distraction (but utterly necessarily in terms of the book) it has a particular relevance to Marc’s life that shows itself in time.

Marc has a lot of reckoning to do with himself and as the novel continues on he gets better at it – an incredible shaky start leading to some absolutely ‘bravo!’ moments – and you could be forgiven for wondering how much time there will be for Issac’s conflict arc. Suffice to say when it gets to the climax the pace picks up, the plotting and writing is more incredible than before, and it’s nail-biting. You get a real sense for the immigration system that was in place (still is in place in many ways) and the difficulties therein for the individuals facing deportation. The end itself is a brilliant mix of ends and beginnings and of hope.

The Fitful Sleep Of Immigrants shows that what we thought was great fiction from the author previously, was but an alright opening first serve. This latest work has raised the bar significantly.

Publisher: Amble Press (Bywater Books)
Pages: 265
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-612-94263-6
First Published: 18th April 2023
Date Reviewed: 7th April 2023

I received this book from the author for review.

Another reason for excitement last month: I started getting myself back into the swing of things in regards to new books. I went to Netgalley to look up the details of Lisa See’s Lady Tan’s Circle Of Women and picked up a ‘read now’ book; I responded to an email; I bought a few of the books I had come across on my various quick looks at news during the last couple of years.

There’s a book left off this list – Chloe Gong’s These Violent Delights. I accounted for it last week… and I may have forgotten to add it to the stack when taking the above photo. (For transparency’s sake I will note the image above is a composite as I have the books at the sides in ebook format.)

Amanda Prowse: All Good Things – This is the ‘read now’ book, which I chose because of a slightly-relatable fact: at least until a few years ago, Amanda Prowse was one of the few big authors to visit Southampton for a signing, and this made me make a note to read one of her books one day. As we all know, putting an author on your to-be-read, especially without naming a book, is a sure-fire way to ensure you remember them only sporadically. I saw the book, I remembered, and I’m doing it now. This is effectively from the publisher for review.

Daisy Harrop has always felt like she exists in the background, and since her mother stopped getting out of bed, her life has come to a complete standstill. Daisy would give anything to leave the shabbiest house on the street and be more like the golden Kelleways next door, with their perfectly raked driveway and flourishing rose garden…

Winnie Kelleway is proud of the beautiful family she’s built. They’ve had their ups and downs – hasn’t everyone? But this weekend, celebrating her golden wedding anniversary is truly proof of their happiness, a joyful gathering for all the neighbours to see.

But as the festivities get underway, are the cracks in the ‘perfect’ Kelleway life beginning to show? As one bombshell revelation leads to another and events start to spiral out of control, Daisy and Winnie are about to discover that things aren’t always what they seem.

Brit Bennett: The Vanishing Half – I have read a little about Brit Bennett; she’s a name I’ve seen around a lot, and I could do with becoming reacquainted with prize shortlists again, in this case the Women’s Prize for Fiction. (This book won the GoodReads Choice Award for Best Historical Fiction in 2020.)

The Vignes twin sisters will always be identical. But after growing up together in a small, southern black community and running away at age sixteen, it’s not just the shape of their daily lives that is different as adults, it’s everything: their families, their communities, their racial identities. Many years later, one sister lives with her black daughter in the same southern town she once tried to escape. The other passes for white, and her white husband knows nothing of her past. Still, even separated by so many miles and just as many lies, the fates of the twins remain intertwined. What will happen to the next generation, when their own daughters’ storylines intersect?

Orlando Ortega-Medina: The Fitful Sleep Of Immigrants – This will be the fourth book by the author I’ve read, and it’s his third novel. I have read it, and would say it’s the most accessible of his books yet; the others are all excellent but this one has more mainstream appeal. From the author for review.

Attorney Marc Mendes, the estranged son of a prominent rabbi and a burned-out lawyer with addiction issues, plots his exit from the big city to a more peaceful life in idyllic Napa Valley. But before he can realize his dream, the US government summons his Salvadoran life-partner Isaac Perez to immigration court, threatening him with deportation.

As Marc battles to save Isaac, his world is further upended by a dark and alluring client, who aims to tempt him away from his messy life. Torn between his commitment to Isaac and the pain-numbing escapism offered by his client, Marc is forced to choose between the lesser of two evils while confronting his twin demons of past addiction and guilt over the death of his first lover.

Peng Shepherd: The Cartographers – I came across the author and fell in love with the cover of this book (I’ll note it was the US edition, which has a library on it) and simply kept it in mind. It’s time.

Nell Young’s whole life and greatest passion is cartography. Her father, Dr. Daniel Young, is a legend in the field and Nell’s personal hero. But she hasn’t seen or spoken to him ever since he cruelly fired her and destroyed her reputation after an argument over an old, cheap gas station highway map.

But when Dr. Young is found dead in his office at the New York Public Library, with the very same seemingly worthless map hidden in his desk, Nell can’t resist investigating. To her surprise, she soon discovers that the map is incredibly valuable and exceedingly rare. In fact, she may now have the only copy left in existence… because a mysterious collector has been hunting down and destroying every last one – along with anyone who gets in the way.

But why?

To answer that question, Nell embarks on a dangerous journey to reveal a dark family secret and discovers the true power that lies in maps…

Raven Leilani: Luster – For a while, I was seeing Leilani’s name everywhere and The Guardian in particular seemed rather taken with her work so while I was away from books and reading I noted her name down for when I was back.

Edie is just trying to survive. She’s messing up in her dead-end admin job in her all-white office, is sleeping with all the wrong men, and has failed at the only thing that meant anything to her, painting. No one seems to care that she doesn’t really know what she’s doing with her life beyond looking for her next hook-up. And then she meets Eric, a white middle-aged archivist with a suburban family, including a wife who has sort-of-agreed to an open marriage and an adopted black daughter who doesn’t have a single person in her life who can show her how to do her hair. As if navigating the constantly shifting landscape of sexual and racial politics as a young black woman wasn’t already hard enough, with nowhere else left to go, Edie finds herself falling head-first into Eric’s home and family.

Warsan Shire: Bless The Daughter Raised By A Voice In Her Head – A couple of weeks ago I read about the line-up for this year’s Dylan Thomas Prize, was happy to see poetry included, and got Shire’s collection very soon after. Award-nominated, current, poetry, and a new-to-me poet? Yes please.

With her first full-length poetry collection, Warsan Shire introduces us to a young girl, who, in the absence of a nurturing guide, makes her own stumbling way towards womanhood. Drawing from her own life and the lives of loved ones, as well as pop culture and news headlines, Shire finds vivid, unique details in the experiences of refugees and immigrants, mothers and daughters, Black women, and teenage girls. In Shire’s hands, lives spring into fullness. This is noisy life: full of music and weeping and surahs and sirens and birds. This is fragrant life: full of blood and perfume and shisha smoke and jasmine and incense. This is polychrome life: full of henna and moonlight and lipstick and turmeric and kohl.

What books have you bought/borrowed/acquired recently?