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Book Review: Jawbone by Monica Ojeda translated by Sarah Booker

cover art for Jawbone by Monica Ojeda

Jawbone by Monica Ojeda., translated by Sarah Booker

Coffee House Press, 2022

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1566896214

Available: Paperback, Kindle edition

Bookshop.org  | Amazon.com )

 

Fernanda wakes up, disoriented, to discover she has been kidnapped by Miss Clara, her literature teacher. Figuring out how she got there is the first step in navigating a twisty narrative.

 

Fernanda, her close friend Anne, and their friends had found an abandoned, isolated house where they told horror stories, participated in violent dares, and worshipped the White God (as friend groups of teenage girls do). Fernanda and Anne pushed their limits further than the other girls, but Fernanda finally reaches hers.

 

Anne is forced to take extra lessons from Miss Clara after the teachers discover an irreligious drawing of an insect god in drag. Miss Clara has closely modeled herself on her mother and has anxiety and frequent panic attacks that result in repetitive and neurotic behaviors and self-harm, making her a perfect target for Anne, who is angry with Fernanda for drawing boundaries. Anne uses her conversations and assignments with Miss Clara to manipulate Miss Clara’s anxieties and turn her focus on Fernanda as a villain victimizing Anne…

 

The writing varies in style. Parts of the book record Fernanda’s therapy sessions; conversations between Anne and Clara;  and a long essay on “white horror” by Anne for Clara. Others get into the mental state of Clara or Fernanda which are quite disorienting, vivid, and sometimes gut-punching, with insect and body horror. The descriptions of physical responses to anxiety and panic attacks are hard to read. It gets harder and harder to trust any perception of events.

 

There is so much left to the imagination that it creates a real sense of unease. The violence keeps escalating but a lot of it happens off the page. This is generally effective but left me confused with the ending. There is so much left to the imagination that it creates a real sense of unease.

 

This is far from being a straighforward narrative, Readers who enjoy experimental narratives and unreliable narrators will find much to recommend it, though. ,.

 

 

Reviewed by Kirsten Kowalewski

 

Editor’s note: Jawbone was a finalist for the 2022 National Book Award in Translated Literature. 

Book Review: The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan

The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan

 

The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan Amazon.com Bookshop.org )

Simon & Schuster, 2022

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1982156121

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, audiobook

 

This book was like living through a nightmare trainwreck.

 

Single working mother Frida is separated from her two year old daughter Harriet after she leaves her home alone for more than two hours with the back door open. She is sentenced to a year at the School of Good Mothers, a new program that monitors neglectful parents as they work through a sadistic and brutal parenting curriculum that requires them to mother human-appearing child robots while depriving them of actual contact with their children. Mothers who don’t finish or pass will have their parental rights terminated and appear on a neglectful parent registry.

 

This has a similar feel to The Handmaid’s Tale, and the teachers, social workers, and administrators are the absolute worst versions you could come up with for those roles. The difference is, it is set in the present day, and it’s not impossible to imagine something similar actually taking place. The individual characters don’t matter as much.as the overall picture.

 

Frida is lucky in that her parents, ex, and his wife are all supportive of her, but even so, the end is inevitable.

 

Obviously no one  should leave a toddler at home unsupervised for two hours, but the state shouldn’t be rigidly and arbitrarily prescriptive and cruelly controlling of the ways we parent our children. The lessons of The School for Good Mothers are more damaging to Frida and her daughter than reparative.

 

The story flowed well, but it is chilling, a difficult read in our real world environment that is colder to women, and children, every day. Highly recommended.

 

Contains: suicide, suicidal ideation, murderous thoughts, racial slurs, solitary confinement, violence, mentions of pedophilia.

 

 

Reviewed by Kirsten Kowalewski

Book Review: Malorie: A Bird Box Novel by Josh Malerman

cover of Malorie: A Bird Box Novel

Malorie: A Bird Box Novel by Josh Malerman ( Bookshop.orgAmazon.com )

Del Rey, 2020

ISBN-13: 978-0593156858

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition, audiobook

 

In a world where sequels and reboots are plentiful, encountering a followup that actually measures up to the original is rare. Malorie, the eagerly awaited sequel to the smash hit Bird Box, equals that debut novel in story, scope, characters and sheer emotional power.

Josh Malerman enters this summer as horror’s reigning rock star, both figuratively and literally (he’s the star of his own band, The High Strung), although to pigeonhole him in a single genre would be unfair. Take a deep dive into the dark western Unbury Carol or his supernatural thriller Black Mad Wheel to experience the breadth of his talent.

Malorie picks up a dozen years after Bird Box left off, with a chaotic scene at the school for the blind where the original concluded. A woman falls prey to the creatures introduced in the first book, that cause their victims to become violent and commit suicide, with our main characters escaping. Skip forward ten years, and Malorie, Olympia, and Tom are holed up in a summer camp, which they have modified to fit their every need. Yet, as teenagers,  it is only a matter of time before the kids, once named “Boy” and “Girl”, open Pandora’s Box, their curiosity overriding Malorie’s strict “parenting by paranoia”.

To state much of the plot would venture into spoiler territory, but the trio do leave their safe zone when a “census taker” visits and informs them that other survivors exist, possibly some that Malorie might know, and that a “blind train” exists, a haven that can deliver them to others like them. Much like the journey in the first book, the thrill is getting there. There’s no river here, just roads, with little to guide the characters.

What occurs when they reach the destination is mind-blowing and is world-building at its finest. For a short novel, Malerman nails it.

Of course, Malerman had zero idea that the pandemic would coincide with the book’s release, and its relationship to current events renders the story that much more effective. The issues of mask/blindfold wearers and the cult who refuse common sense and wish to face the terrors of the creatures we can’t see– and survive– mirror society today in a frightening way. To learn that staying alive can be thwarted by the ignorance and arrogance of a few is terrifyingly timely. Yet, Malerman also keeps it entertaining, with twists and turns, and the return of the only character who can best Malorie. Her fears of Gary’s arrival lingers, until her nightmares morph into reality.

The other concepts are handled with style and care. Is Malorie a solid mom or a paranoid woman who’s holding back her kids from developing into the people they need to be? Her guilt consumes her– and them–  a sensation to which any parent today can readily relate. Are her actions selfishness or altruistic? Both? Neither? The conflict and balancing act Malerman portrays display the compelling character readers fell for in the first novel. It’s easy to see why Malerman decided to return to Malorie’s world. Her damaged psyche makes the novel resonate. A new element elevates the story to another level here: her children. Olympia travels through her books and holds a secret that can either kill the family or deliver them to salvation. Tom’s fascination with inventions and gadgets is more than that of a boy with his toys; he’s determined to reshape his world into one that includes sight. How the pair battle their conflicts with Malorie and her maternal instincts and fractures, is crushing emotionally, raw and eviscerating. What could have been a rehash of Bird Box is transformed into a higher level tale that deserves a film, which is on the way.

What makes Malerman such a star in the literary world, and not just the horror genre, is his writing. It’s unobstrusive, yet inviting. It’s far from simple, yet feels as though he scrawled it out whilfe sitting out back, eyes closed and immersed in the Malorie’s mind. He becomes her and lulls the reader into her being, for a disturbed, exciting, and thoroughly enjoyable ride. Highly recommended.

 

Reviewed by David Simms