Margot & Me, while set in contemporary times also grapples with the past set during World War II through a diary. What I loved about this book was how the stories of three generations knitted together. Fliss and her grandmother, Margot, were so at odds that Fliss’s mother was the only reason they put up with one another. Watching that relationship develop throughout the pages was immensely touching. Although, how Fliss came to read Margot’s diary didn’t entirely sit well with me. But you know, curiosity and what not…
In many ways, Wing Jone is the book that I’ve been searching for for half my life. (I’m in my mid-twenties, so that’s not an exaggeration.) See, I’m of biracial descent. Even though I’ve sought books with biracial protagonists all my life, I’ve come across very few. Combine that with sports, one of my many passions, and odds of finding such a book plummet to near zero. Then Wing Jones came along and that book made my heart sing.
Before A Quiet Kind of Thunder, I had never read a book involving a character with selective mutism, nor a character who is deaf. It didn’t occur to me previously that I hadn’t until I had the opportunity to review this book. I was a little unsure if I would like it because it’s primarily a romance novel. On the flip side, Sara Barnard wrote this and I really enjoyed her debut, Beautiful Broken Things, so I was still curious.
I visited the library earlier today, fully determined to check out the Singapore collection. Faced with the fiction shelf of Singapore literature, this one bright blue spine popped out, so I took it from the shelf. Turns out it was My Singapore Lover. While I didn’t really know what it was about, I had seen copies of that book on display at bookstores. I thus started to read the book. 20 pages in, I already wanted to chuck it aside. Nothing really grabbed me but I didn’t want to make snap judgements. Plus, My Singapore Lover was published fairly recently, which I figured fits in squarely with Crazy Rich Asians, another book set in Singapore that was published last year. (I have yet to read it.)