Jay Goldman

I read 100 Days after spending five days in Rome and Tuscany. The locations were highly evocative of my own travels and I could easily picture Oscar's bakery or the Chitchat shop tucked away down medieval Roman alleyways.

As a parent, this book struck some deep nerves around the quality of the time we spend with our “heirs”, the lessons we teach them, and the way they will remember us when we eventually leave. It has already made me want to be more intentional about all three.

And, as half of an incredible relationship, it's made me reflect on the inconsolable ways I would be devastated to be on either side of this story. Brizzi has created a loveable rogue, flawed but filled with the kind of dedication and passion we all wish we brought to our own lives. I can confidently say that Lucio will come to mind many times over the rest of my (hopefully) much more numerous days.

An exploration of what it means to be human, and especially what it means to love, told through the eyes and noses of fifteen Toronto dogs unexpectedly given human intelligence.

I'm not a big YA reader in general so I can't compare this to other books in the broader genre. My daughter is reading City of Ember for a school reading group and I read it so we could discuss together.

That said, DuPrau has done a good job with a fairly complex idea. The narrative moves quickly and the characters are likeable, though a little shallower and more predictable than I would have liked. I'm guessing YA in general doesn't get into the nuanced characterization of more adult fiction, so that's probably less of a comment about Ember as a book and more of a sweeping generalization on the genre.

Given the success of the series, and the star-studded movie adaptation, DuPrau has obviously lovingly crafted a whole world built out of the darkness. Without giving anything away, the first book is a well done novel on its own but also an obvious setup for the next story. I'm looking forward to reading it when my daughter gets through this one!

A very challenging read. This “experimental” novel is an undertaking, although I warmed to the style about a third of the way through. Saunders plays with narrative structure, sometimes quoting from period reference pieces, sometimes narrating through his characters. The end result is perhaps less satisfying than a traditional read but by no means any less creative.

The Bardo, which I had to look up (Tibetan བར་དོ་ Wylie: bar do — antarabhāva (Sanskrit) is an intermediate, transitional, or liminal state between death and rebirth), is a beautifully rendered limbo state parallel to the real world, populated by incredible ghosts of lives lost. They come alive (if you'll pardon the pun) through the vivid descriptions of their graphic mutations and behaviours, doomed in their limbo state to represent their true desires and mortal fates. I found it hard to keep up with all the character names at first, realizing later that many of the bit parts aren't even worth remembering as they weave in and out of the main narrative.

This book definitely isn't for everyone, but there is a brilliance to the way Saunders has constructed the world, to the rules that define the characters and their goals, and to the presence of the sombre and depressed Mr. Lincoln as he travels through the Bardo and out the other side.

John MacDonald was a recommendation from my Dad, who sang the praises of his storytelling, structure, and writing. I wasn't disappointed at all — MacDonald is an excellent author and this book shines even 61 years after its original publication. Some of the language is a little dated (particularly in reference to women), and the plot wouldn't entirely survive the iPhoneitization of modern days, but the story is crisp and original and remains a page turner. MacDonald almost seems wasted writing crime thrillers, particularly when he waxes philosophically about the state of the world and the humans who occupy it. Definitely looking forward to more Travis McGee in my life!