“Klara and the Sun” by Kazuo Ishiguro qualifies as “speculative fiction,” a giant “what-if” to a society that has pushed the limits of Artificial Intelligence and showed its limitations as well. Which parts of the human experience would escape even the most advanced computerized being? Would the “emotions” of an “item” that children chose affect how we look at commerce and replacement in today’s society? How quickly do we “move on”?
Anyone who has read these reviews (thank you, my enablers) knows that I require a lot of story development to accept the universe. So here, I had to cheat with a few Google searches to understand some of the intricacies. Luckily, others had the same questions. Having Klara as the narrator takes you along for the journey because you know the world as soon as the Artificial Friend does and even sympathizes when human behavior confuses her.
Like someone who tries to find humor by telling purposefully bad jokes, you do not necessarily know when a situation is complex or ordinary since Klara’s processing may muddy the waters. Nevertheless, I credit the author for making the Artificial Friend a sympathetic character. For example, one character compares Klara to a vacuum cleaner multiple times, and AFs show how people in this society draw the line in different places.
Somehow, I have not read many books with heavy symbolism in my adult life, so I feel I could pass a quiz on most of my reading. But this one has a little more to make you think about religion, possession, and loyalty. Like the conflict between two divorced parents, the ordinary on the pages comes off as new because Klara’s eyes had not experienced such drama before. But, in a world divided on the concept of Artificial Friends, we accept the ground rules.
Once the stuff hits the fan, the book’s questions focus: what truly separates a human from technology’s best replica? When is utilizing technology to interrupt the will of nature problematic? Would people engage in “acceptable” stereotyping if genetic engineering occurs and refuse to believe that only one type of person meets their requirements? The characters here have extreme opinions about the topic, as I imagine today’s Americans would.

“The Sweetness of Water” by Nathan Harris continues the tradition of emotionally moving novels based on the Reconstruction. It weaves together two stories, one about formerly enslaved people and another about Confederate soldiers, both scary when you consider the context. Yet, as with any dark period, we as readers take comfort in acts of kindness and humanity; therefore, seeing newly freedmen find a relationship with a grieving father in Georgia will engross you.
The story goes like this: Prentice and Landry recently achieved freedom and sought paid work on George Walker’s Georgia farm. George and Isabelle mourned the death of their son in the war, but then young Caleb appeared on their doorstep in reasonably good shape. The kid has a major secret that led to his departure from the war. The flap warns us that this will lead to murder, but the tease leaves us wondering what will happen and how.
Most books live or die on character development, and Harris does not spare details. He even gives a mute character an equal amount of humanity. In the land of former enslavers and Confederates, this quickly could have gone off the rails and does not. Instead, since the death occurs “on screen,” we witness a crime story in which the readers genuinely care about the victim and even the perpetrators to an extent.
At the halfway point of the novel, you do not know if you will be reading an adventure story, a morality tale, a crime drama, or a mixture. Harris makes all these threads interesting enough that you will follow, regardless. I had trouble reading about unfair treatment and justice, even though the author probably portrayed the assailants accurately. Our fights for victims’ justice are not new.
I did not see the ending; the deck was stacked against our heroes. One solution seemed too far-fetched, and the other too depressing Debut novelist Harris has some skills in achieving the appropriate balance. As a reader who subjects himself to alternating slavery and Holocaust novels, I did not go into this expecting to whistle as I closed the book and received a thorough emotional workout, as will you.

“The Code Breaker: Jennifer Doudna, Gene Editing, and the Future of the Human Race” by Walter Isaacson takes its science seriously and dumbs down absolutely nothing. I am neither the smartest nor dumbest guy in the room, but I had never heard the term CRISPR before cracking this open. The gentleman at Starbucks asked me what I was reading. When I told him, he said, “Ooh! Fun with CRISPR!”. Who says the schools have failed?
The first part of the book is about competition. Many people, including our hero Jennifer Doudna, knew the potential of gene editing and manipulation, but few could agree on who deserved the credit or made the most important discovery. Next, we meander into a portion of the ethics of gene manipulation in what seems to be a different but successful novel. In another’s hands, this could have been, as one reviewer put it, “too ambitious.” This book, however, is not Isaacson’s first rodeo, so he knows what to do here.
Most will seek out this story to hear the ethical arguments that have come up over the last few decades. Isaacson, a veteran author of history, seems less concerned with establishing a narrative and more focused on demonstrating how the national argument meandered. The scientists involved constantly battled with their desire for credit and responsibility to societal ethics. Most could see both the power of technology and the need for limits. Most agreed that only life-threatening reasons required such a boost.
We all draw the line differently. What qualifies as an “enhancement” instead of a “requirement” for life? The most emotionally resonant sections interview deaf and autistic adults who do not, under any uncertain terms, recognize their conditions as disabilities. Some wanted children that reflected their culture. These arguments show how differently we think as Americans. A specific population believes that it is immoral to genetically engineer, while a nearly equal amount feel that it is terrible not to if you prevent debilitating conditions.
I wish I did not have anxiety, but the coping mechanisms have proven to me that I have more resilience than anticipated. The same goes for my eldest child but seeing them tackle their fears shows they will persevere. Our opinions do not condemn those of others.
Isaacson acknowledges a blurry line and slippery slope but does not condone those who think differently than he does. He brings together some of the most brilliant minds in science and shows that they all had different goals and visions for the potential of their discoveries. You will want to know more about them. Once we end the Coronavirus mission, we know how we need to protect these minds.

“The Forest of Vanishing Stars” by Kristen Harmel recommends itself to fans of “The Tattooist of Auschwitz” and “Where the Crawdads Sing.” I had my skepticism, but that same book is killing it. I have read many slavery/Reconstruction novels and Holocaust/World War II stories and expect to experience a desensitizing one day. Today, however, is not that day. Little, naïve kids experiencing these horrors will soften the hardest of hearts.
The story goes like this: an older woman kidnaps a little girl from her parents whom the lady calls “evil.” The captor raises the girl in the woods, fearing the natural world’s goings-on. When her woman in loco parentis passes away, the then-grown Yona learns about the atrocities occurring in Nazi Germany and teaches those in hiding how to survive on the land. Violence ensues, and Harmel blurs the line between paranoia and truth.
A book checks many boxes that seem cliché, but Harmel throws in some action, intrigue, romance, and historical fiction. If you are handy or outdoorsy, the survivalist pieces will entertain you and challenge you to consider how you would do in the same situation. Since so many of Yona’s decisions rely on instincts, I did not usually know what was coming but felt the sense of foreshadowing.
I reacted strongly to Yona’s nomadic tendencies since Jerusza, her de facto parent, taught her that staying in one place for too long led to danger; therefore, do not obsess over it. Nevertheless, the journey will have some unexpected stops. A killer twist happens just past the halfway point, and you do not see it coming, even though it should have been blatantly obvious based on the events of the first few pages. “To know the light, you must also know the darkness.”
Yona is inspiring as an individual who faces blatant atrocities but allows us to share her small victories and her pursuit of a better environment. Harmel is three years younger than I am but writes with much wisdom and knowledge about the Holocaust. I do not know how a forest dweller would have fared in those conditions, but this seems accurate. “Whoever saves a life is considered as if he saved an entire world.”

"The Personal Librarian" by Marie Benedict and Victoria Christopher Murray continues the tradition of "Gentleman's Agreement," "Focus," or the underrated "The Human Stain," in which a character hides their ethnicity in a discriminatory environment. For anyone tired of race as a topic, we have an educated bibliophile who certainly wishes that people would focus on her skill, not her complexion.
Belle, our hero, has her character development based on two key features: she has keen negotiating skills and an eye for quality in literature and art. But would her boss, the wealthy (and authentic) J.P. Morgan, still acknowledge her prowess if he knew of her true ancestry? Conversely, can we blame her Black relatives for turning their collective backs on her family since the group has chosen to live as white folks?
The most challenging part of reading lies in accepting the new universe's rules into which the author tries to engross me. Of course, people like J.P. Morgan do not qualify as relatable with infinite money and resources, but Belle's struggle with her racial identity packs a punch. As she infiltrates high society, the element of intrigue always exists under the surface about whether the dignitaries know her secret or, in 1919, how much it would matter.
As historical fiction, the book describes a specific time post-Reconstruction and pre-Suffrage. Belle more than holds her own in her discussions and negotiations with wealthier and more powerful men, but she cannot escape the fears in the back of her mind. The inevitable happens when a subplot of romance appears; nonetheless, I was captivated enough with the story not to see it coming. I cared enough about the characters to feel sorry for them.
When you reach the end and figure out the author's message, you will want to know more about our heroine. How did she achieve deception for so long, and, more importantly, why was it necessary in 1910? As the story progresses and the "big reveals" do not happen or occur differently than you anticipated, you recognize this as a singular work by one of Upper St. Clair's most excellent alumnae, Marie Benedict.
(Note: I usually enjoy stories that create fiction from the kernels of truth in history. The story in the Author's Notes of how both writers united to make this happen is inspiring and not to be missed.)

"The Secret Keeper of Jaipur" by Alka Joshi starts when a much-hyped theater watches its balcony collapse, and we then move backward to experience the back story. Luckily, the author provides a cast of characters like a glossary since those with limited attention spans will need constant reminders about whom they are reading.
The author takes a calculated risk by introducing its catastrophe and then revealing the set-up through the eyes of 3 key characters. TV drama has used this technique to death, but it works here for character development. Joshi pulls enough plot strings to make the reader question how they will come together with all three narrators. Nimmi, Malik, and Lakshmi have a connection, but each focuses on the story.
Historical fiction is the favorite genre among hardcore readers, but many zero in on a specific time and place. India attracts many people due to the glamour associated with it. Here, we get that along with a criminal underbelly. Unlike most crime fiction, however, we know very little about the criminals or the depth of the deceit until beyond the halfway point. If you appreciate a "slow burn," you will understand the deliberate pace.
Once we realize that we have a whodunit on our hands, we need to return to the glossary of personalities to keep all connections straight. You could easily predict the blame but not the resolution. The investigation requires a lot of knowledge about construction and materials, so I applaud the author for her attention to detail. However, I would struggle to provide accuracy while not losing the average reader.
Pacing sets this work apart from its peers. The protagonists solve the crime carefully and methodically so that the reader does not see the ending. We like and hate so many characters that we can see them on a small screen. Since "Pulp Fiction" entered the public consciousness, I have loved seeing multiple plots fall into place, and the ending of "The Secret Keeper of Jaipur" more than satisfies me.

"The Secret Keeper of Jaipur" by Alka Joshi starts when a much-hyped theater watches its balcony collapse, and we then move backward to experience the back story. Luckily, the author provides a cast of characters like a glossary since those with limited attention spans will need constant reminders about whom they are reading.
The author takes a calculated risk by introducing its catastrophe and then revealing the set-up through the eyes of 3 key characters. TV drama has used this technique to death, but it works here for character development. Joshi pulls enough plot strings to make the reader question how they will come together with all three narrators. Nimmi, Malik, and Lakshmi have a connection, but each focuses on the story.
Historical fiction is the favorite genre among hardcore readers, but many zero in on a specific time and place. India attracts many people due to the glamour associated with it. Here, we get that along with a criminal underbelly. Unlike most crime fiction, however, we know very little about the criminals or the depth of the deceit until beyond the halfway point. If you appreciate a "slow burn," you will understand the deliberate pace.
Once we realize that we have a whodunit on our hands, we need to return to the glossary of personalities to keep all connections straight. You could easily predict the blame but not the resolution. The investigation requires a lot of knowledge about construction and materials, so I applaud the author for her attention to detail. However, I would struggle to provide accuracy while not losing the average reader.
Pacing sets this work apart from its peers. The protagonists solve the crime carefully and methodically so that the reader does not see the ending. We like and hate so many characters that we can see them on a small screen. Since "Pulp Fiction" entered the public consciousness, I have loved seeing multiple plots fall into place, and the ending of "The Secret Keeper of Jaipur" more than satisfies me.

“Lightning Strike” by William Kent Krueger has outstanding storytelling and suffers only from our knowledge of other similar novels: if Native American elder Big John’s death is a suicide, we would have no story. Instead, we get meditation and explore a culture’s opinion of the Afterlife and what mystical beings believe about someone who ends their life. A father and son investigate, turning up more questions than answers.
As an SVU addict, I loved the way that this unfolded. Liam, the patriarch, tries to collect evidence while his son also involves himself. Since this is a prequel to novels involving Cork O’Connor, part of the adventure lies with a kid learning the craft. A good murder mystery involves just the correct number of characters so that we have enough suspects to keep it exciting but not so many that we do not know the perpetrator. We love and hate enough people here to make it work.

The brains of murder-mystery fans could serve as an exciting study. Novels like this must introduce facts and evidence slowly and efficiently to keep you interested without giving too much away. We have two apparent villains and the suicide explanation, but we anxiously await a few more details. The true sign of a successful whodunit is when you speculate about the guilty parties after putting down the book.

I “cast” the film version of books I read and have a few in mind for young Cork, his father, Liam, and his grandmother, Dilsey. Think Meryl Streep, Ethan Hawke, and Asher Angel. The villains would require more nuance. When the narrative changes based on a shocking murder, Krueger takes this from a murder mystery to a much deeper piece about social justice, prejudice, and history that will make you sad.

The 12-year-old lens frames the conflict nicely. Yes, we know from the previous novels that Cork will grow up to become a famous investigator, but he has trouble keeping evidence to himself or understanding why he must do so. When we arrive at the truth, we are sad, but the racism and prejudice we encounter along the way do the damage. The ending is satisfying, as in realistic, but disheartening, nonetheless.

Colm Toibin's "The Magician", may target a more intelligent or informed audience than yours truly. It takes kernels of truth from the life of German novelist Thomas Mann and tells fictionalized tales from 1881-1950.

For many reasons, Germany was a tumultuous place to be at several times during this day. Few speak as much about their role in World War I, for example, but Toibin does not gloss over the experience.
Mann's family is huge, which makes character development problematic as we often talk about them and forget what they have done. Three major characters also bear the name of Klaus and you may get lost.
Still, I admire the way Toibin explores the Hitler Era in ways that would burden homosexuals, writers, and refugees. When you flee Hitler's Germany, how could you maintain your heritage while seeking safer pastures?

Those with greater knowledge of Mann's work and scholars who study German history would have more to say. Still, Toibin succeeds in finding out what Mann would have said, done, and felt. What a setting this must have been.

"The Phone Booth at the Edge of the World" by Laura Imai Messina tells a fictional story about a real place. In Japan, someone set up a "wind phone," an unhooked device designed to communicate with lost loved ones after the tsunami.

The main character, Yui, often brings herself to the garden, but it takes her a long while to gather up the courage to communicate with her departed daughter and mother. Finally, she meets Takeshi, a doctor who lost his wife and whose daughter has refused to speak since her mother's passing.

Grief, as we all know, is a journey and the author makes it a point to show how that path differs for everyone. Yui's journey is the stuff of the novel. Could she accept someone new in her life after having her peace ripped away?

After readings tons of books like this, I should have expected romance to become a factor. At first, you fight it as predictable but then realize that allowing someone else in is an inevitable part of the process.
In the shortest 400 pages I read, I felt like I was experiencing Yui and Takeshi's pain. The hardest thing for an author is to find hope in tragedy, and Messina leaves you feeling able to confront any hardship.

"Project Hail Mary" by Andy Weir only suffers from comparisons to other books of its genre. If you have recently seen "Arrival" or "The Shape of Water," you expect a much different story.
Unlike most book flaps, this reveals very little to the reader before they enjoy it. It stated that a man wakes up on a spaceship, unaware of how he got there. That will contact you to about page 50. After that, you have much more to discover, and I think Weir wants you to do that on your own.

However, the novel excels in pontificating about our responsibility to save humanity, our ability to coexist with other lifeforms, and the scientific, and moral difficulties that a space traveler would face. It makes you think.
Your knowledge of physics and engineering will significantly influence how you read. Some will try to solve the problems, while others (read: me) will thank Weir for thinking for them. Astrophysics is no joke.

Usually, I get nervous when Hollywood gets a hold of a great novel, but I cannot wait to see these visuals on film. Of course, science fiction can exist as action capers, but the best work also has philosophical leanings. This adds up to the best novel I have read this year.

“Bewilderment” by Richard Powers only has one flaw: it is not “The Overstory," his sweeping epic combined stories about trees to meditate on the importance of all living things. Instead, an astrobiologist must raise a son, who may be on the Spectrum, on his own and appreciate his quirks, resulting in many moments that appreciate nature.

Powers has a knowledge of science and the world that few authors have; however, he paints his protagonist, Theo, with such a familiar brush that you relate to him even if his studies escape you and you need to Google a few things. Hearing about tales from the cosmos and his mother’s environmental studies through the lens of neurodiversity makes it thought-provoking.

When you use a university as a backdrop and throw in the elements of psychology associated with a highly diagnosed son, you work your readers’ minds without necessarily trying to influence them. The real action takes place in Robin’s mind, where you see an emergency as he does, and you admire the boy’s dedication to tasks that seem too large for us to make a difference.

The author made a unique choice, and I am obsessed with its meaning: he writes Robin’s, Theo’s son’s, statements in italics with no quotation marks while keeping the declarations of others in the traditional grammatical structure. I did not understand it for a while, but it shows how empathic his thoughts are and how intense they seem to typically-developing minds. You hang on to Robin’s every word as a result.

The finished product relates to a chorus of single parenthood, science fiction, astrobiology (I had no idea that career existed, but it does), environmental consciousness, and child psychology. Part of it may go over your head if you do not “know” science, but you relate to the characters enough to go along for the ride. I enjoyed what it made me think about as much as it had to say. Powers is a genius, in case his first book did not convince you as much as it did me.
(Note: the ending is a doozy. Please read it and discuss it with me. I am writing this while still processing it. )