bought House of Spies because it won Kirkus Best Book of the Year—and I am
thrilled that I did. The book deserves the award and the bestselling status it
of Spies is the only book I have read (so far!) in Daniel Silva’s Gabriel Allon
series, and I am hooked by the strong characterization, the sense of danger,
and the tenuousness of the lives that Israeli spy chief—and ostensible art
restorer—Gabriel Allon seeks to protect. The plot centers on capturing the Iraqi
terrorist Saladin, who has perpetrated a series of deadly attacks on western
cities that have scarred national treasures like The Lincoln Monument. A
committed jihadist, Saladin seeks to install a caliphate that will destroy the
very freedoms those monuments celebrate.
I especially loved the various settings of the novel, which take the reader from London to Provence and Marseilles and, in the climactic scenes, to the Berber lands of Morocco. Any book that has me drinking tea at sunset in a Bedouin tent in the Middle Atlas Mountains is going to enthrall me.
caveat: other reviewers have criticized the repeated sentences, which should
have been edited out. I agree, but these were minor foibles in an otherwise
I finished House of Spies, I downloaded The Kill Artist, Book #1 in the Gabriel
Allon series. If the other 19 books live up to House of Spies, I will read the entire
of spy novels will love this book.
#suspense #spy #espionage #fiction #danielsilva #houseofspies
A reviewer has described Queenie as a black Bridget Jones, a comparison that doesn’t convey the full scope of Carty-Williams’ complex, unflinching examination of a young woman and the emotional toll her childhood has taken on her.
Queenie is the story of a 25-year-old Jamaican-British woman who is falling apart, a disintegration that begins when her fiance Tom—the love of her life, who nonetheless tolerates his racist uncle calling Queenie the n word—initiates a break in their relationship, right after Queenie suffers a miscarriage. Heartbroken but determined to view their separation as temporary, Queenie endures several disastrous, even abusive interracial encounters—she fears black men don’t want black women, no matter how light their skin—who fetishize her body, trample upon her self-respect, and even hurl false accusations of harassment at work, leading to her dismissal.
As her life disintegrates, Queenie reluctantly seeks therapy, which uncovers the traumas and multiple abandonments of her childhood. Her eventual healing is demonstrated in a two-hour shouting match with a neoNazi skinhead, where she bravely defends her commitment to the BlackLivesMatter movement.
Numerous characters prevent Queenie’s story from turning bleak: her domineering grandmother, who shelters Queenie when she is fired from her job as a reporter; her hilarious friend Kyazike, whose own dates demonstrate the strength that the weakened Queenie must learn to show; and her empathetic colleague Darcy, who eases her panic-stricken transition back to work. Her friends, nicknamed the Corgis (like The Queen’s favorites), are full characters in their own right, with idiosyncratic personalities that add depth to the book. Every woman needs a Kyazike and a Darcy in her life.
I happily give Queenie 5 Stars. By the time she deletes Tom’s contact info from her phone, I was silently cheering for her recovery. I can’t wait to read more of Carty-Williams’ writing.
Keep Her Safe doesn’t merit even one star. I hated the book and forced myself to finish it.
The plot is convoluted, nonsensical, and repeatedly strains credulity. Accepting some of its twists requires a suspension of disbelief that was beyond me. For instance, why would a female tourist traveling alone in a foreign country insist that a sketchy car rental operator keep her mobile phone until her vacation is over? This was an absurd way to ensure that Cara Burrows didn’t communicate with her family, particularly since she quickly acquires an iPad at the Swallowtail Resort where she stays. I love an unreliable narrator, but can’t abide a stupid one–or a ludicrous plot device.
I particularly disliked how the author introduced new characters late in the book. How is the reader supposed to identify with a major character–one with a significant backstory–when that character only appears two-thirds of the way into the book?
Finally, I never got into the transcripts from the Justice with Bonnie Show or the excerpts from the book Melody never wrote. These sections seemed like a lazy way of conveying important information.
I’ve heard great things about Sophie Hannah, but Keep Her Safe does not justify its hype.
Salt Houses provides an interesting and vital perspective: the Palestinian diaspora and the emotional toll emigration takes on those forced to wander from country to country.
Through the lived experiences of three generations of a Palestinian family, Salt Houses asks the reader to confront the concept of home: where is home when you have been displaced by war? Can a refugee create a new home elsewhere, even as one’s own offspring reject the values on which their culture is based? How does one maintain family bonds strained by constant upheaval? As the grandchild of emigrants who fled civil war in Belfast, Northern Ireland, these questions resonated with me.
It’s important that Salt Houses is told from the viewpoint of a moderate Palestinian family that seeks to protect its relatives, especially its sons, from jihadists—and who are deeply suspicious of the imans whipping those boys and young men into a frenzy of anti-Israeli violence. Hala Alyan succeeds in creating characters who are far from the stereotype of rock-throwing terrorists. The Yacoub family are well off, with middle-class aspirations, romances, and jobs—and a snobbish disdain for their own compatriots living in refugee camps.
From a writing perspective, several criticisms: there were too many dream sequences, which took me out of the story. Also, I did not get a sense of what many of the characters wanted. The notable exception was Alia, who is desperate to leave Kuwait and live in Amman, even as she wrestles with a deep homesickness for her childhood home in Nablus. Finally, the occasional switch to the present tense was jarring. These issues are the reason I only gave the book 4 stars.
Anyone interested in fictional representations of Middle East history will enjoy Salt Houses.