When worlds collide.

Publisher: Alma Books
Pages: 275
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-846-88241-8
First Published: 2012
Date Reviewed: 7th June 2013
Rating: 4/5

Japanese Reverend Oda was sent to the monastery as a child by his parents. The action saves his life and he comes to enjoy living in the temple. But the temple is moving on, modernising, and where there are now western Buddhists there is the requirement for a competent priest to move to America. The temple believes Oda is that person, but Oda feels very differently. And working with and teaching westerners who have not grasped the teachings may prove difficult.

Buddhaland Brookyn is a peaceful book, in its words, about cultural clashes and how they influence the working together of a group of people who must be a team. It demonstrates how, with more thought, people can overcome their differences and work together. Morais offers a poignant character in the person of Oda.

Yet it must be pointed out immediately that Morais’s Buddhism here is not at all the sort you are likely expecting, and this is true no matter how much or how little you know of the religion. Reverend Oda smokes and has sex, eats meat and drinks alcohol, and his fellow priests go shopping on the high street for golfing clothes. It is indeed best that the potential reader knows this beforehand so that they can decide whether or not it would work for them. This is in part because it means that so many of the cultural differences that would ‘usually’ occur in such a situation, are not here. (It should be noted that Morais says, in the acknowledgements, “My novel should in no way be considered a serious religious work…”.)

Yet the absence of the expected Buddhist tenets does allow for Morais to concentrate on the less general areas of conflict that might have occurred. Instead of dealing with, for example, the decadence of his American congregation, Oda must teach them that their faith is a little misplaced (for example believing that prayer helped a company survive). This is where the heart of the book lies, in the transitions that need to be made by the congregation, as well as the understanding Oda must develop of his adopted land.

Oda is at the heart of the book – his change as a person is the most important. This may seem odd considering that it should be the western believers changing in order to be true Buddhists, but Morais made the right choice. As mentioned, Morais’s Oda is a wonderful character, and it’s evident that the writer has spent a lot of time getting him ‘right’. And the flow of the story, the way it has the capacity to draw you in for countless minutes before you realise just how many pages you’ve read, is a very good thing. It ought to be said, however, that this does mean the secondary characters are not as developed and a lot of their inclusion is down to the easily-identifiable stereotypes they provide (Morais is not being prejudice, he uses stereotypes to make the conflicts simple to understand).

The book ends quietly, there is no great statement or revelation. It should be noted that depending on the reader’s feelings about Buddhism, or, more so, religion in general, they might find the compromises made – in light of what happens in reality – disappointing. Yet the book’s story and voice, and the feeling that it could have been a memoir, keep it relevant and engrossing.

This Brooklyn presents a very different Buddhism, but for what it is the book is a success.

I received this book for review from Alma Books.

Edited on 11th June to reflect the information later provided of Morais’s long-time interest in Buddhism.

Related Books

None yet

She was a punk, and he did ballet (or rather, played baseball), but there’s far more to say¹.

Publisher: Harlequin
Pages: 462
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-373-21063-3
First Published: 28th May 2013
Date Reviewed: 31st May 2013
Rating: 4.5/5

To win the current round of dares, Ryan has to get the phone number of the girl at the drive-thru counter, and it would have been a lot easier if she wasn’t a ‘skater’. Beth tries her best to protect her mother, whose boyfriend beats both of them up, and when she [Beth] takes the blame for Trent’s injuries, uncle Scott suddenly swoops in and takes her to Groveton. Beth hates Scott for abandoning her as a child, but the biggest issue she’ll have is when Scott introduces her to the boy who’ll help her find her way in school – and that person is Ryan, the jock from the taco bar. Baseball and grunge don’t tend to make a good match, but if Ryan’s to win the resurrected bet he’ll have to get past Beth’s curses. He’s likely to fall in love in the process.

She stares at my wrist, then at my jeans. “I see your tastes haven’t changed.”
“No,” I say. “But Ryan’s have.”

Dare You To is a book that will appeal to many readers, even those who would typically pass up on YA. McGarry’s story and writing style fit an older time – Dare You To is unlike the current crop of books out there and has an old school feel to it. The best way to describe it would be to say it’s akin to a darker, gritty, non-musical Grease, or 10 Things I Hate About You, where the hero and heroine are from completely different backgrounds and no one can see the relationship working. That said, the usage of the word ‘dark’ and the reference to these two films does not describe the book correctly. This book is similar at its foundations, but it is full of angst, domestic violence, drugs and alcohol. It could be said to straddle the border between YA and New Adult, and whilst Ryan may be innocent in his so-called perfect world, McGarry holds nothing back when detailing Beth’s life.

Given the above it may come as no surprise to hear that there is little weakness to the characters (of that annoying kind) and no silly choices. The characters are strong and although they both have issues, when they are upset, it remains realistic. There is so much detail and reality to these characters it’s evident that McGarry has put her heart and soul into the storytelling. There is a lot of angst and sadness, but none of it is excessive or there for little reason. The book never wanders away from its subject, and whilst the inevitable budding relationship between Ryan and Beth obviously changes things, invites love and romance, the characters do not change beyond loving looks and the odd understandable blushing and weak knees. They never lose sight of their dreams.

So to the darkness. This is not a book for teens at the beginning years of the life stage. Beth is 17, a drug user and a drinker. She has had one heck of a terrible life with her mother, a woman who will not protect her child (rather Beth protects her), and when Ryan meets Beth’s group of friends he provides the outsider perspective on what the group is (although in that last point, there is not so much worry for younger readers). And Beth is no stranger to sex. Her friends are supportive of her, rather than bringing her down, which one might have assumed from the first descriptions of their living conditions, Isaiah and Noah work to help Beth see that the life Scott has gifted her is the better one, that it would ruin her future to stay with her mother. Ryan’s own family has problems, though here it’s a case of perfection on the surface, and estrangement underneath. His town is religious, anything that bucks the trend and doesn’t conform is shunned. Everything blended together, it has to be said that McGarry has structured and written her book brilliantly, and without leaning on the support of extreme drama and the confrontation of multiple families.

As for the writing, as previously accounted for it is good. McGarry has a firm hand on the dialogue. Everyone gets to the point with little waiting involved, and characters say what you would expect them to. The book is told from the perspectives of Ryan and Beth, going back and forth between them. There are rarely any gaps in time; as soon as Ryan’s chapter ends Beth’s takes over in a heartbeat. This means that you get to see every shared moment from both points of view, and means that no curtains are drawn over uncomfortable situations.

There are but a couple of aspects that could have used a little more work. Firstly, there are several pages devoted to the plight of a bird that is clearly a metaphor for Beth. It’s not bad, but it continues for too long and the point is made repeatedly. Secondly, and this may not be a problem depending on the reader’s location and the media they consume, although Ryan and Beth are a ‘jock’ and ‘skater’, from the perspective of a reader not well acquainted with these terms and styles (for example a non-American) it may be the case that the wrong conclusion is reached about who the characters are. More description at the beginning would have worked well here, although it does become obvious later on. Considering that these two issues are not of paramount importance, it would be difficult to pursue them further, and in the case of the metaphor it is easy to see why McGarry used it, even if it is unnecessary.

Dare You To achieves something that Young Adult novels have not, recently, and that is a demonstration that one can write a romance into a book without glossing over the strength and common-sense of the characters. It offers knowledge of difficult subjects unapologetically and brings to the forefront the strife that is the social situation for many people, not just teens.

The decision for how to end this review is perhaps the most uncomplicated for a long time. Dare You To is an exceptional and different Young Adult novel that may be just what you’ve been looking for.

I received this book for review from Harlequin.

¹ A play on Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8ter Boi”.

Related Books

None yet

Capturing a thief, hunting down memories.

Publisher: Harlequin
Pages: 275
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-373-29742-9
First Published: 21st May 2013
Date Reviewed: 30th April 2013
Rating: 4/5

Finally in a position to discover what happened to her family, Li Feng makes use of performance troops to develop her skills further. In the process she ends up with a group of thieves and therefore finds herself followed and caught by thief-catcher Han. Li Feng escapes and Han catches her again, but this won’t be a simple game of cat and mouse when love is involved.

The Sword Dancer is in part a wuxia novel; the book rests firmly in the suspense/action subcategory, giving the book an extra plot thread and meaning that the heroine is pretty strong both physically and mentally.

Li Feng had already been through a myriad of experiences before this particular crime and Han’s interest. Her background, the lost family, has led to a lot of her desire to learn how to protect herself as well as to be cautious and never exploited. This can be related to her non-belief in her relationship with Han, a more descriptive reason for how they work as a couple. Li Feng gives in against her nature only when it’s appropriate, never changing her mind simply because she likes Han. Han has his background too, but there is a little more in the book about Li Feng’s and the difference makes for a fine balance, allowing Lin to look into social and domestic issues without any distractions. The issues never take over the plot, nor the plot the issues. Everything fits together well. As for Han? He has had an easier life, certainly, but his feelings of inferiority have marked him as a person and his desire to do well could be said to form some of the basis for the book.

And so the only way Li Feng’s strength is hindered is by her constant belief that a relationship with Han is impossible. Whilst it makes sense – a law-abider and criminal being together would be difficult – as it’s inevitable the book is going to end happily, it does feel redundant, even if it’s understandable. Nevertheless the romantic scenes are well written, the crimes just as much a focus, and Lin has plotted her book to perfection. In addition, it cannot be said that Li Feng’s reluctance isn’t a good contrast to her strength, or that the reluctance doesn’t fit well with her trials as a person without a family.

Instead of having lots of dialogue or simply detailing a scene, Lin breaks up conversations with information about a character’s background, politics, or a character’s thoughts, rather than having the characters reveal it themselves. What you learn about the characters tends to come from the pen rather than their voices; it’s the sort of writing that might divide opinion. However Lin has spent a lot of the time developing everything – the story, the romance, the characters – and the elements are fascinating. Even plot points that seem convenient are not a negative here because of the way Lin deals with her setting. It is more a case that you feel the book would have not suffered if descriptions of backgrounds had been removed.

The book is a winner when it comes to accessibility. Chinese words are included without the constant translations (those that can make usage superfluous) that can be found in other books, and Lin has chosen a theme and made it her own. The scale of the crimes are perfect for the book – not too big, not too small, and detailed well. There is enough happiness and well-intentioned corruption to keep you reading.

If you’re looking for history, chemistry, and adventure, you’ll find it here by the bucketful, though some descriptions may prove to be less successful.

I received this book for review from the author.

Related Books

None yet

Sense And Sensibility And Sea Monsters and… you know the deal.

Publisher: Vintage (Random House)
Pages: 354
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-099-56369-3
First Published: 1st January 2012
Date Reviewed: 21st April 2013
Rating: 5/5

It’s Emerald’s birthday, and as her step-father leaves to go to a meeting to discuss the family’s ability to keep their house, everyone is getting ready for the dinner party. Charlotte is in a whirl and not sure about her daughter’s friends, Clovis is being his usual self, and Smudge is unwell and thinking about the charcoal drawings on her wall. But an unexpected call from the railway changes everything, as the family find themselves having to make allowances for a crowd of people left waiting after a train accident. It’s a weird group of people, and it gets stranger still when an old acquaintance of Charlotte’s arrives as another passenger of the train.

The Uninvited Guests is a peculiar book that turns the notion of literary fiction on its head. Not at all what you’d expect from Jones, the book is somewhat of a parody, yet retains its literary feel throughout.

Jones’s writing is as good as it has been since her début. History is still the period of the day, The Uninvited Guests appearing to take place around the early twentieth century, but there is also a great amount of humour in the book. Either Jones has taken a chance or she wishes to show that literary fiction need not be so separate from genre fiction.

The action takes place over the course of 24 hours, with the majority of the book contained to the evening. A lot happens; it can be hard to remember it is still the same day. What fills the book and keeps it from ever being dull is the number of characters and their development. Apart from the ‘guests’, who are generally observed as a whole group rather than given time individually, the characters are all related in some way and each is distinctive – as detailed to some degree by the summary above. They all have their own stories and goals within the main one assigned to them as a unit, and this means that Jones switches back and forth between them when they’re separated. Jones’s usage of solo plots works here because of the nature of the characters, for example Charlotte is quite the snob and a bit lazy so she stays in her room, and Smudge is the oft-forgotten child and therefore spends a lot of time alone.

Owing to the period and the idea of the sudden burden of people, an aspect of the book lies in the family’s principles. The social status of the passengers compared to the family, the aims and aspirations of Charlotte, the wishes for a good birthday, and the general feeling of unwelcome arrivals, forms the basis of the book and is a big part of why it takes so long for the characters to work out what the reader knew all along (because in this book the reader is purposefully ahead of the game). It is a big part of the hilarity, too, and, somewhat uncomfortably, also the way Jones demonstrates neglect – for example the family literally forget little Smudge, which is what leads to her mishaps.

The dialogue is understandably steeped in its time and the writing is as good as Jones’s previous novels. The humour is both pure comedy and a sort of silliness. Sometimes Jones goes too far – as the book reaches its conclusion it could be said that the humour becomes a sort of private joke, rather over the top and unnecessary – and so it may shock readers who were thinking it might be more serious (despite the quotations and descriptions the book’s cover does not aptly indicate the nature of the contents). Thankfully the silliness resolves itself in the end – as much as possible given the plot.

Perhaps the best way to describe the book is to say that the characters would really like this to be character-driven, but Jones has decided that it is plot-driven. Indeed there is a constant push by the characters to forget the crowd of passengers and enjoy their evening.

There are lessons for the characters, and there is such development of them as to make you feel sorry to close the book, but really this story has no specific purpose. The Uninvited Guests is a novel that exists just because – it’s a laugh a minute but of no lasting value as literature. However that seems to be the point. As long as you’re okay with the idea of literary fiction being gatecrashed by paranormal dystopian stories – which is itself another possibility for the feelings of these ‘poor’ literary characters – and you’re willing to switch the angst-ridden beauty of Jones for frivolity, then you will likely love this book.

Jones’s latest – jolly good fun old chap.

Related Books

When everything happens at once.

Publisher: Penguin
Pages: 353
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-1431-2351-4
First Published: 16th August 2012
Date Reviewed: 21st May 2013
Rating: 4.5/5

In the 1930s Dez married Asa as life became difficult. When her father dies he leaves the family’s beloved playhouse to Asa, with the intent that its care be passed on to any children of the union. But the town, Cascade, is under threat by the state who need to create a reservoir for the health of residents of Boston, and Dez is unhappy with Asa as it is. She dreams of a career in art that will never happen in Cascade, and as Jacob continues to be a scant part of her life, she wonders about the possibilities for more.

Cascade is a complex novel; on the surface it is straight-forward, the story of an unsatisfied woman and the imminent demise of Cascade, but as it continues it becomes obvious that there is a lot more to it. Indeed it takes a long time to truly pick up the pace, appearing for a good while to be a somewhat laid-back story about an event that is surely horrific for those involved; the persistent reader will be well rewarded for continuing with it.

Because as much as the word ‘cascade’ refers to the town – its name and the literal cascades of water situated nearby – this book is also about the cascade of feelings, isolation, and hopelessness that happens when everything that borders on white lies and secrecy, explode at once. In Dez you have a character who is difficult to like in her entirety. There is an overwhelming sense of her being used by others, and of being unable to stretch her wings, yet there is also some true selfishness there at times. Most of what Dez chooses to do, the mistakes she makes, even the good choices, have understandable reasoning behind them, but a few do not.

This does not mean that Dez is not a good character, however. She is indecisive throughout the book, but as a character she is wonderful. O’Hara rarely takes the easy route – just as it seems you can predict what will happen, the events work in Dez’s favour (or not) but as much as O’Hara wants to help Dez, she doesn’t let her off every time. O’Hara’s narrative for Dez means that you get that real sense of worry as O’Hara makes her character go through the misfortunes of life, and Dez’s wishes are very modern, meaning that the reader can confidently root for her without worrying about feeling disconnected by the time period. In Dez, O’Hara has created reality. You could create a book group discussion out of Dez’s life, question whether O’Hara even liked the character.

This leads us to the book itself. Moving on from the slow start and quickening pace later on, Cascade is one of those magical works that pulls you in so much you don’t even realise you are reading. There is no fairytale, no wonderment, and yet the book itself is a wonder. The secondary characters are written just as truly as Dez. You get the harsh reality of Asa’s pain contrasted with what seems at times a violent nature, but throughout your time with him its obvious O’Hara is telling you to look deeper, to really see Asa, and not assign stereotypes or even the fact of his fictional nature on how you view him. O’Hara wants to make her people exist, and whilst this may be true of all authors, it is particularly obvious in Cascade.

Being that the book takes place during a time when personal freedom was becoming important, but that it is entrenched in tradition and a small town, there are a few moral questions up for debate. As discussed above, O’Hara doesn’t make it easy for her characters, and therefore no matter which side of the debate, or just the view, you might fall on, she makes it easy to feel comfortable with what is being discussed, opening conversation and successfully managing to not leave anyone out despite the fact that sooner or later her characters must of course make decisions.

Truly this is a book that is as much, if not more, about a person rather than a town. If you approach the book hoping that it will be full of protests and violence you will be disappointed. O’Hara’s aim with the town is to look at the process rather than the overall affect. Affect is reserved for the characters.

There is a lot about art in this book – Dez’s passion, the art world, descriptions of Dez’s paintings and the creation of them. Due to O’Hara’s fictionalisation and overall decisions regarding which story elements get page time, the art shouldn’t be a problem for anyone who isn’t as passionate as Dez. What may cause a problem, however, is the extent to which Anna Karenina is detailed. If you haven’t read the classic and don’t want it spoiled, you can easily skip Dez’s visit to the cinema without missing anything important to O’Hara’s book itself. Tolstoy’s book is used as a reference later on, but simply by knowing that Dez was interested in the film should be enough for you to understand these later references.

Cascade is a myriad of ideas and details, focused on one woman, but encompassing much more, just in smaller doses. It will delight anyone looking for a heroine who may not be strong but is successful, and will leave you thinking on its topics long after you’ve finished.

I received this book for review from Historical Virtual Fiction Author Tours.

Related Books

None yet