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Thank you to NetGalley and Random House Children's for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: violence, death, underage drinking.

Theo and her brother, Marco, are not excited about spending their summer in gloomy Nightfall, Oregon. After Marco throws a huge party, destroying the house and nearly getting many of his friends arrested, it's their father's idea of a punishment and visit to his mom all rolled into one. Once they arrive, however, Theo is immediately and begrudgingly charmed by the small town, and once Marco meets the beautiful, intriguing Minnow, things start to get a little more interesting for the both of them. Theo, too, is enamored by a crush of her own, but she finds their grandmother a little strange, especially with her one important house rule: never stay out after dark. When Theo is drawn into Minnow's friend group, she quickly realizes that something about the girls is -- off, somehow. And by the end of her summer trip, she might be forced to confront the dark side of Nightfall.

These days, I don't mix much with most YA books. I just don't click with it anymore, probably because I'm not exactly the intended audience anymore. Sometimes, though, you just want to pick up something fun, feel transported back to your teenage years, and for me, In Nightfall is a great example of a book that does just those things. Originally, I was intrigued by the comparisons to The Lost Boys, especially the idea that this was a sort of gender-flipped version, but beyond that shallow first impression, it manages to find its own path -- something that a lot of books with big-name comparisons can't achieve.

Theo is our main character, as we get everything from her first-person perspective, but this is really more of an ensemble type of novel, particularly when it comes to the involvement of her brother, Marco, and their family unit. She's interesting enough, and very likable, with relatable problems that many teenagers (and even adults) will be able to sympathize with. One problem I found with the entire book, however, is that most of the characters don't feel very fleshed-out, and this issue mostly plagues Theo's crush, Parrish, and the group of "wild" girls that Theo and Marco both get involved with. The two characters who assist Theo in her quest to figure out what's going on in Nightfall (and potentially help her fight any monsters who may or may not be terrorizing the town) suffer from the same problem, and I think it feels especially noticeable when they're supposed to be the Edgar and Alan of Young's book.

With that being said, Young does an excellent job of maintaining the sensation of fun and adventure, and I was really rooting for Theo and her family. Young's exploration of changing family dynamics is also spot-on, although I do wish that there had been more time to follow up with Theo's strained relationship with her mother. Another element I have to compliment is the wonderful way that Young builds up the fake town; it feels somehow genuine and authentic, with little touches and details that add a quality of realness, while also managing to keep Nightfall mysterious and just slightly off-kilter. 

What kept me from giving this four stars has to do with In Nightfall's girl gang. I was so excited to see how they would come alive on the page, but unfortunately, their allure was lukewarm for me. Truthfully, I was expecting (and hoping for) a deeper connection between Theo and the girls, especially with its comparison to The Lost Boys. In the film, it's easy to see why Michael falls under the spell of the boys, the classic tale of wanting to belong, even if it means fitting in with people who you don't truly like or get along with. Minnow, Annemarie and Beatrice are more like window-dressing, and their backstories and lives are never fully explored, something that would've made things far more interesting.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book, and I think it'll gather a lot of fans. It isn't perfect, but it's never short of fun, and it's the kind of thing you want to reread when you're feeling down.

Book Review: Big Swiss by Jen Beagin

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Scribner for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: suicide, misogyny, homophobia, rape (mentioned, off-page), eating disorders, violence, stalking, animal cruelty, racism.

Greta lives in an old Dutch farmhouse, working as a transcriber for a "sex and relationship coach" in Hudson, New York. She's also a mess. Listening in on people's therapy sessions hasn't done much for her own mental health, but she gets a kick out of it nonetheless, and she's particularly captivated by one of her boss's new clients. Greta calls her Big Swiss (owing to the fact that she's tall and from Switzerland) and for Greta, listening to her sessions is somehow cathartic -- they both have experienced major traumas in their lives, but their ways of coping are about as opposite as you can get. One day, Greta hears a familiar voice as she's at the dog park, and when she realizes it's Big Swiss in the flesh, she quickly introduces herself -- not as Greta, but Rebekah. As the two of them become tangled up in a messy, intense relationship, Greta is forced to face the demons of her past and some of the demons in her present, too.

Let me start off by saying that Big Swiss is not my usual kind of book. I decided to give it a go, mainly because I love messy female protagonists with a dark, dry sense of humor (and the lesbian relationship is a plus, too!), but I think it's only fair to mention this before I properly begin my review. Some people have likened Beagin's style to Otessa Moshfegh, and as I'm a big fan of her books, I thought, why not? It's always good to broaden your horizons. Unfortunately, in this case, I probably should've trusted the hesitation I felt. 

The biggest problem I have is with the two main characters, Greta and Flavia (the titular Big Swiss). At first, I was intrigued by their dynamic, and I even found them oddly charming in some situations, but as the novel progressed, I quickly grew tired of their flakiness, their inability to be kind to one another, and, head and shoulders above the rest, the lack of chemistry between them. It was difficult to understand why they put up with each other, and what attracted them to one another in the first place. Although the 'why' is repeatedly spelled out for us, it doesn't really make sense with the actual interactions we see on-page. Big Swiss, in particular, is not a likable or even interesting character to me. Why Greta is so instantaneously infatuated with her is really anybody's guess.

There's a lot of social commentary here, but most of it falls flat. It's the usual type of dry humor, making fun of everyone for everything, and to put it simply, it's boring. I also don't think that this book is quite as funny as it thinks it is, and instead of laughing or feeling tickled by a lot of the things intended to be funny, I was mostly left cringing. Greta is tactless, almost to the point of stupidity or naivete, and although she's forty-five, I had to continuously remind myself that she wasn't actually meant to be a vapid teenager or twenty-something. 

There's also really no plot to speak of. The ending is a bit disappointing; it feels like a lot of build-up for nothing. I didn't hate this book, but reading it felt like filler, like waiting for something meaningful to happen. Also, there's a lot of casual racism, and I wasn't a huge fan of the way the book handled Greta's questioning of her sexuality, nor did I like some of Big Swiss's comments about lesbianism (the whole "I could never be a lesbian" thing was just kind of weird).

All in all, not my cup of tea, but judging by the very high ratings this book has gotten, I might be the odd one out.

Book Review: Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez

 

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Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for allowing me to read this ARC!

Content Warning: misogyny, violence, death, rape, racism (including slurs), child abuse, homophobia (including slurs), torture, usage of slurs against the disabled.

Juan is determined to protect his son. A powerful medium, Juan has been exploited and abused by the Order for years, beginning in his childhood, and after marrying and having a child with Rosario -- the daughter of the most powerful family of the Order -- he knows that they will do anything to get their hands on Gaspar, who they plan on using for their own ends. Fleeing across the country after Rosario's untimely death, father and son encounter obstacle after obstacle, from the brutal tactics of Argentina's military dictatorship to Juan's own dark side, a side that often comes out when he is around Gaspar. As Gaspar grows older, it becomes clear that his inheritance is inextricably tied to cruelty, magic, and ultimately, death.

Following many characters and a jumping timeline, Our Share of Night is an epic that does its best to break every storytelling convention you can think of. Written by Mariana Enriquez, an Argentine journalist and author who made it onto the shortlist for the International Booker Prize, this novel is, at its heart, an occult version of the bildungsroman. What I noticed first upon picking this up was her immense ability in creating something that sinks its claws into you. From the very first page, there's intrigue, and also a sense of impending doom, an element that pervades the story from start to finish. We begin in the head of Juan Peterson, a father who is prepared to do anything to save his son from the selfsame cult that has ruined his life. He's mourning the death of his wife, Rosario, the daughter of the wealthy Reyes Bradford family, who also happen to be the foremost leaders of the cult he's so determined to escape. His son, Gaspar, is perhaps a touch too clever for such a young child, mirroring both his rebellious father and mother in many ways.

When Juan and Gaspar are making their way across the country, the military dictatorship -- coming to power during the infamous coup where Isabel Perón was overthrown -- is in full swing. Much of this book is political, and Enriquez deals with those issues both in the form of veiled allegories and in upfront, direct lines that speak of the forced disappearances taking place, of the torture, and the so-called Dirty War tearing the country apart. Enriquez's style of speech and writing is frank, but with characteristic flair and beauty; she never shies away from the ugly, and it makes her stories that much more compelling. Her characters, too, are just as gripping, although I found Gaspar to be strangely shallow in comparison to Juan, Rosario, and the others around him. Juan, in particular, is complex, a multilayered creature that Enriquez isn't afraid of making unlikable. Somehow, against all odds, Juan is sympathetic, a testament to Enriquez's ability to create someone as flawed and interesting as a real person.

For me, this book left me with many questions, and I think that the ending, in all its strange ambiguity, was fitting. This isn't a novel you can pick up and read lightly, and at six-hundred plus pages, it's not exactly something you can breeze through. There's a weight to it, and the sometimes slow pace actually feels beneficial to what Enriquez is trying to impart. I do have a few issues with it, though. Perhaps it's simply meant to be accurate to the time period, but I really didn't like the casual use of racism and racist terms by some of the characters (including those we are supposed to like). It's peppered throughout the book a few times, and while I understand the intent of using it in a character like Mercedes, from a wealthy European family, it was strange to see the weird passage about Gaspar coloring the map and the Chinese. It was pointless, and soured my liking of the book a little. I'd be interested to see these parts in their original Spanish. My other problem is that occasionally, the storyline was just plain confusing. There's a lot of characters, a lot of timelines, a lot of places and people and problems, and every once in a while it became overwhelming.

With that being said, I loved everything else about this novel. It's gritty, fascinating, beautiful, and a wonderfully unique interpretation of cults and magic, made even better by its cultural and political aspects. In many ways, it reminds me of horror books from the '60s and '70s, and in my opinion, there's really no better comparison.