Made In America, Bill Bryson

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Bryson’s Made In America is a history of the English language in the United States, but in exploring this topic we get a potted history of everything from immigration to shopping centres, McDonald’s to film stars. Coming to this book as someone with very limited knowledge of American history, it was a fascinating romp through hundreds of years of history, and provides many interesting tidbits. In it, Bryson disabuses the reader of many commonly held misconceptions. Right from the off we learn that many Europeans had arrived in the ‘New World’ before the Mayflower set sail, as far back as the Vikings, and indeed that due to the number of fishing fleets that had been so common along the north-east coast, some English was already spoken on land when the settlers arrived. Another is that Germany’s autobahnen were inspired by America’s superhighways, not the other way round, and that LA once had the finest public transport network in America, if not the world.

We see throughout how many endeavours started with noble ambitions but were corrupted by a desire for more money. Indeed, the demise of LA’s public transport network was engineered by a State Senator who continually blocked investment in them while promoting the construction of freeways, forcing everyone on to the roads. We also learn about the utopian dream of early shopping centres, envisioned to be places where people would enjoy rest and relaxation, sitting talking to neighbours, enjoying a game of chess or a leisurely lunch. Soon they were corrupted into places to keep visitors moving, removing back rests from seats to make them uncomfortable to use for any length of time and designing foodcourts to be deliberately uncomfortable to encourage speed. 

We gain snippets of history from other countries in the process of learning more about the US. For example, in talking about the huge boom in migration in the long nineteenth century Bryson mentions that in 1807 Ireland was the most densely populated country in Europe yet by the 1860s it was one of the least. People across the globe were taking part in mass migration, and for the US this meant that between 1830 and 1850 the proportion of foreign born immigrants rose from one in a hundred to one in ten. We see the unfortunate discrimination that many were on the receiving end of, but also the way these newly arrived residents benefited the country, bringing with them new ideas and innovation. Many of the main players in Hollywood were not American-born, changing their names to sound more naturalised. This influx of migrants naturally had an impact with many languages being spoken across the country. Indeed, a form of German known as Pennsylvania German, quite distinct from mainstream German now, retains a low number of native speakers. 

We see also how many place names were changed over the years from their Indigenous names or those from Spanish and French-speaking colonists to names more easily pronounced by the English speakers. Some names were changed because words included became rude with time, or unfortunate for other reasons, e.g. Swastika. Others were changed merely because real estate developers were keen to make areas sound more appealing. What we see through the book is the way language develops and absorbs different influences. 

An enjoyable read in Bryson’s signature accessible and entertaining style. Occasionally lists of words feel a little tedious but for the most part it is an enjoyable read which taught me much beyond the changing uses of English in America. 

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Astonish Me, Maggie Shipstead

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1970s New York and Joan Joyce, a corps de ballet member, is watching her ex-lover Arslan Rusakov dance the star role with his new girlfriend. Joan is heartbroken, disillusioned with a life of striving for perfection and never attaining it. The baby growing in her is making her dance like never before but also rings the end of her life as a professional ballerina. We soon find her living a quiet life in Chicago with Jacob, a man who was devoted to her as a teen but whose affection she didn’t entirely return. Loyal Jacob was there for her through heartbreak and a demanding career, but now that he finally has her something feels off. He feels somewhat like she trapped him with the pregnancy, and he wonders at how his 20s could have gone without the commitment. They move to California and Joan teaches ballet. As their son Harry grows, he becomes obsessed with ballet (and, unfortunately, Arslan) and soon shows himself to have an innate talent for the art form. Joan engineered this life for him, but when it looks like her dreams for him might come true, is she ready to cede control of her son’s life to a career that spat her out?

We jump around in time throughout the novel, from the 1970s to the early 2000s. We see the fall out of Joan’s relationship with Arslan and later witness her role in his defection to the USA. The story feels rooted in true ballet history, and those familiar with it will note the similarities between some of the characters and real figures, but it feels as though you could enjoy it just as much without. Arslan’s defection and those of other dancers who follow suit are dealt with interestingly. From a relationship perspective we see how entwined Joan was with his initial escape, how essential she was to finding him somewhere to live and protecting him from the press, patiently conversing with him in English with the assistance of a dictionary. It doesn’t take too long for her to begin to feel sidelined. He takes other lovers, and she fears that perhaps seeing her dance, knowing she will never be a star, lessens her in his eyes. We never see events through his eyes but he tries to explain to her the enormity of his decision to leave the Soviet Union, the danger those he left behind would be in as a result of his escape. Joan never seems to fully comprehend this, always obsessed with their passion, his perceived rejection of her. Later in the novel we see yet more vulnerability in him behind the public facade, the dreams that never came true.

Relationships are the heart of the story. Their new neighbour in California, Sandy, befriends Joan but also doesn’t really like her, something she wishes weren’t true. She is jealous of Joan for having kept her figure after having a baby, of being the one who draws the attention of men, for the strange exercises she sees her doing in the garden. Jealousy is no stranger to Joan, who has often felt it herself toward more skilled dancers. It seems inherent in her chosen profession, the constant comparisons, the competition, the endless striving. We don’t see all that much of Sandy’s relationship with her husband directly, but we do see how she responds to the attention of others, how he is out of work but sees it as a bad thing if she works, and their eventual sad ending. It doesn’t feel like a fulfilling marriage for either of them. Jacob and Joan also don’t exude happiness. Joan expresses the feeling that she can sense Jacob falling out of love with her, while he has patiently waited for her to really love him. Their disagreement over having a second baby doesn’t help, nor does their son’s obsession with her former lover. For a relationship he felt so certain would be the one for him, believing always that eventually they would be together, it feels sad to see how unsatisfying the reality is. There is a discomfort that comes from reading these relationships, a reality to them that is not romantic but steeped in truth.

The next generation seems to repeat some of the same stories as Harry falls for Sandy’s daughter Chloe. She is very happy to spend time with him outside of school and at ballet, but as soon as they are around others she pretends they don’t know each other. He finds it fascinating to see how the other boys react to her, how they don’t really feel anything for her, just want to see how far she’ll let them go, to explore their sexuality. He also notes how her lithe body shaped by ballet makes her popular and desirable, yet for him it is a point of derision by his peers. He spends so much time with her, touching her in their dances, yet lacks of a different kind of intimacy. Their story may not be destined to play out as Jacob and Joan’s did however, as his talents at ballet may give him more opportunities, and boosts his confidence beyond what their local school has taught him to feel.

This is an interesting read with a tangle of romantic and platonic relationships. We see the tougher side of ballet and what it does to those in that world. It feels dysfunctional and harsh, yet causes obsession for many of the characters. Shipstead explores how the decisions we make impact not just our lives but those around us, and at what point our responsibility for others starts and ends. There are some genuinely moving passages, and although there are some slightly questionable plot points, overall it is an enjoyable read which brings to life the passion which makes great art at the expense of all else. A brilliant read for fans of ballet, but one that anyone could get a lot out of. 

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Voyager, Diana Gabaldon

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This is a review of book three in the Outlander series. This review may therefore contain some spoilers for earlier novels in the series.

In this third book in the Outlander series, readers are thrown back into the world of Jamie and Claire, separated by hundreds of years, but holding on to the love they have for each other. As the novel develops the focus shifts into a high seas adventure, with pirates, shipwreck, and some supernatural goings on to keep the reader hooked. We meet new characters, catch up with old ones, and watch as Jamie and Claire come to know each other again.

We learnt at the end of book two that Jamie Fraser hadn’t died at Culloden as planned, and Voyager take us to the battlefield to find out exactly what happened. The narrative is then split between the eighteenth and twentieth centuries, Jamie’s escape from slaughter and imprisonment, and Claire’s attempt to find out what happened to him, Brianna coming to terms with the idea of a father lost to her in the past. Covering twenty years in half a book, even in one of this length, means we get the highlights (or, indeed, lowlights, as they often seem to be) but Gabaldon weaves the tale carefully, giving us enough to understand the shifts in character, the choices they were forced to make, their trials and successes. Jamie has by no means had an easy life, for one, he was determined to die at Culloden, and the thought that his beloved wife has travelled away, alive but unreachable, is unbearable. As seems his natural role in life, he frequently becomes a leader in any group he finds himself in. Men look to him for guidance, and his skills, enhanced by some modern knowledge passed on by Claire, helps them through months of malnutrition and suffering. His role as leader also brings him closer to Lord John Grey, with whom he builds a friendship, bonding over the game of chess. This friendship will prove useful many times throughout the course of the novel, and likely beyond. After years of strife and hard work, he settles in Edinburgh as a printer, with a side hustle in printing pamphlets that would get him arrested, and in smuggling, he is never one for a simple life. 

We see Claire both with her grown-up daughter and in flashbacks of her life with Frank after returning through the stones. Their marriage was never a happy one after their period of separation, Frank was not faithful, but would not leave her and Brianna, who he loved dearly. He struggled to understand her desire to train as a doctor, but when it came to it, would support her in her ambitions. We see Claire struggle with motherhood and with her grief over losing Jamie, loving him desperately while married to another, who just so happens to disturbingly resemble a cruel ancestor they had far too many altercations with in the past. The interacting lives and loves between Jamie, Claire, and Frank is one of the most interesting aspects of the series so far, and this book really allows us to delve deep into the mechanics of it. Ultimately, the tale of Claire and Frank is a tragic one, sacrificed at the altar of her love for Jamie. Bringing her back to the modern day, when they have finally pinpointed Jamie and discovered that he might still be alive if Claire travelled back, she has a heartbreaking decision to make - remain separated from her soulmate, or leave her daughter, most likely permanently.

The fact there are six more books in the series after this one would suggest the answer is she chooses Jamie, but this is not without its complications. For all she knows, he could be happily married with a new family, she might not travel back to the right time, or she might not be able to find him. The risk is not insignificant, and having been apart for two decades they have a lot of catching up to do. We do drop right into the action but Gabaldon returns time and again to the fact they need to get to know each other again, to fall in love with the people they have become. Their love is as all consuming as it’s ever been, and Jamie is soon reminded what it’s like to have a wife who constantly seems to find herself in difficult situations, but they don’t fall back to where they were when she left. They have to come to terms with what they’ve done in the interim.

The second half of the novel focuses more on their travels by sea in an attempt to rescue their nephew Ian. Jamie continues to suffer from extreme seasickness and you feel as the reader the claustrophobia of life at sea, willing the journey to go faster so that he can be back on solid ground. This becomes quite a complex part of the novel, with many changes of location, other ships, and new characters introduced. Claire and Jamie are temporarily separated again, and when they come back together they discover an old adversary who seems to have nefarious plans for their family. We are also confronted with the reality of the slave trade, in full swing at this point in history. Claire is naturally horrified but soon realises that her actions, albeit with good intentions, only make those enslaved suffer more. 

An enjoyable read, but with such a huge expanse that the first half almost feels like a completely separate book. There are some uncomfortable racial stereotypes included, and an odd obsession with the expanded weight of one returning character, which is unnecessary, but overall it feels like Gabaldon is growing in her confidence and skills. The action comes quick and fast and as soon as the characters extricate themselves from one sticky situation they seem to find themselves in another. There is further discussion of the mechanics of time travel in the Outlander universe, and a fun theory on how it has helped with the legend of the Loch Ness monster. An engaging read full of emotion, peril, and some swashbuckling adventure. 

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Well, This Is Awkward, Esther Walker

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This post is part of a blog tour. Thank you to Random Things Tours and Bedford Square Publishers for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

Mairéad lives a busy life in London as the head of an influencer agency, which she recently sold to a large conglomerate, giving her the financial freedom to buy a home and decorate it in her dream style. She’s suffering dating fatigue from being on the apps too long, struggling to feel relevant at work where an increasingly young workforce see her as old, and feels the pressure to constantly be ‘on’ in a world of endless notifications. When her estranged sister Lenny has an accident and is unable to care for her daughter Sunny while she recuperates in hospital, suddenly Mairéad’s carefully curated life feels like it’s falling apart at the seams. Lenny and Sunny live off-grid in a cabin in Wales, believe medicine to be poison, and try to live ferociously eco-consciously. When Sunny arrives in London she struggles with the busy-ness, the noise, the choice, the waste. She just wants to spend her time reading, and eventually bonds with the goats at the zoo and wants to spend every waking moment there. Mairéad is at a loss how to cope. She never wanted children, doesn’t know how to look after them, and just wants her beautiful, clean life to return to normal. She hopes to palm Sunny off on her reclusive, tech-obsessed mother, in a house full of eccentric lodgers, but her conscience soon gets the better of her and she realises that she’s the only one who is going to at least try to take proper care of Sunny.

Due to her financial windfall she is able to take some time out of work when she realises it’s completely untenable to try to do both. A disastrous attempt at taking Sunny to work followed by a failed attempt at recruiting a temporary babysitter open her eyes to just how much time raising a child takes. Sunny is comparatively low-maintenance. She is used to having very little and either wants to have her nose in a book or be communing with whatever animals are nearby. She struggles with busy shops and with social niceties however, making it difficult for Mairéad to do simple tasks like food shopping. We see Mairéad begin to crumble under the pressure, unbelievably bored shackled to her niece, yet with time she realises that she has become quite attached and feels something missing when they are apart. A summer holiday orchestrated by her friend Dodie leads her in contact with many more children and young people and her maternal instincts begin to come alive, although she continues to worry whether she’s doing the right things. She’s impressed by Sunny’s confidence in the water and tries to step out of her comfort zone to meet her halfway. There is no magic moment where everything becomes easy but they work together through the difficulties to find a way of living that works for them. 

We don’t see much of Lenny directly, merely learn about her through her absence, in the small anecdotes Sunny tells, and in the brief encounters at the hospital and back at the cabin. It is clear that Mairéad has had a difficult family life. As a child she felt a bond with her sister, an equal witness to the particularities of their family life, but as she got older and became involved in eco-terrorism they grew apart. Lenny dreamed of living in a commune in Canada but her pregnancy put paid to those hopes as children were not welcome. When she blows up at Mairéad for having taken their late father to chemotherapy treatment their relationship is irreparably damaged and they no longer speak. Her mother Helen makes constant excuses to avoid her, has never seen Mairéad’s flat and never expects to. She pretends to be willing to help with Sunny but when it comes to it she refuses. It’s clear that even as children they had to battle with the lodgers for attention, and since the rise of smart technology Helen is always distracted, putting her phone or laptop before listening to her daughter. This dysfunctional family life adds to Mairéad’s anxieties about being able to care for Sunny, but it’s clear to the reader that although she goes through the struggles that will be familiar to anyone looking after a child, her heart is in the right place and that they’ll be OK. 

The narrative style is relaxed and informal, and you feel so much that you’re seeing events through Mairéad’s eyes that it is somewhat jarring every time she is referred to in the third person, which remains the narrative style throughout. The story felt a little far-fetched, not because of Sunny’s need for a guardian, but because Mairéad is so able to simply drop her life, to move to a cabin in the wilds of Wales and accepts this as her lot. She completely lets Sunny guide their life, not even considering that they could move into a home with modern amenities nearby so as not to remove Sunny from the life and landscape she knows, but to make her own life less difficult. They also seem to come around to each other very quickly, from complete discontent to quiet understanding, and Sunny gets used to the comforts of Mairéad’s life without too much complaint after her initial surprise at this luxurious way of living. Nonetheless, it’s a nice enough read, with characters put in a situation that would feel impossible to resolve in real life. Walker acknowledges this in resisting a happy ever after moment. We see Mairéad grow into her role, albeit with a few bumps along the way, and Sunny begins to consider a life beyond what she was taught to expect by Lenny.

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Summer in the Shadow of Byron, Andrew McConnell Stott

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The Villa Diodati, on the shore of Lake Geneva, is famous for its role in the creation of one of literature’s most famous novels, Frankenstein. The stormy summer of 1816 where Mary Shelley, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Lord Byron, John Polidori, and Claire Clairmont came together has been romanticised and held up as a moment of intense creativity and inspiration. But what really happened at the villa that summer, what brought them there, and where did they go from there? McConnell Stott delves into their histories, examining the tumultuous relationships, the ambitions, and the destructive draw of Lord Byron. 

The book actually doesn’t feel all that much about the months they spent at the Villa Diodati, more so the events that led up to it, and the fates of those involved. As a group their love lives were intense and complex. Emotions were high with many threats of suicide bandied about when things didn’t go to plan. Percy had left his wife, Claire and Mary had run away from home leaving the Godwins desperate to find them and have them safely back. Byron was feeling the pressure of fame, the consequences of his own failed marriage, and wanted to escape the attention. Polidori was there in the role of doctor, always slightly on the outside but desperate to be in Byron’s inner circle. Byron repeatedly mocked John and teased him for his attempts at writing.

A solid chunk of the book gives us enough back story to understand the positions of the main players, and describes the arduous journey across Europe to reach Switzerland. A relatively short section then deals with the time at the Villa Diodati, dispelling some myths by showing that the women stayed in a separate building, and that other friends and acquaintances visited. It highlights the way in which people were sidelined and that the group was never far from intense emotion.

Polidori seems to have had a particularly hard time of it, ending up walking hundreds of miles in a short time period to find his next place of abode when things soured with Byron to an unbearable degree. He was plagued by mental health troubles and his acquaintance with Byron did him more harm than good. Once back in England he suffered a nasty injury in an accident which almost killed him. He then struggled to gain recognition for his work, The Vampyre, published with credit given to Byron. This leads to an interesting discussion of the state of copyright law at the time, and the difficulty for authors to claim ownership if a publisher had already registered a work.

Claire’s tale is also a sad one. She begins with an obsession with Byron. Female fanatics were not uncommon, and she tried every trick she could think of to stand out and gain an audience with him. Eventually, she bears him a child and it is to be one of the great heartbreaks of her life as Byron separates them, not particularly interested in playing the role of father, instead sending her to be educated in a convent, but denying Claire access. Rumours of Claire’s residence in a mental asylum prove to be inaccurate, but certainly she suffered greatly from her time with Byron, and her story is not a happy one. 

This is an engaging read which brings to life some of literary history’s most infamous characters and stories, but shining a light on the less well-known players. Byron’s circle feels like a dangerous place to be, with constant fallings out, heartbreak, and jealousy. Few come out looking admirable, but almost all elicit sympathy at times. A complex web of deceit, ambition, and desire, a brilliant read for fans of any of these authors.

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Flirting With French: Adventures In Pursuit Of A Language, William Alexander

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When William Alexander decides to re-commit himself to becoming fluent in French in his 50s, he doesn’t take the decision lightly. Somewhat concerned about what he’s heard on how difficult it can be to acquire new languages beyond our teenage years, he attends a Second Language Research Forum, mixing with some of the leading experts on the topic. What he discovers is not always encouraging, but decidedly inconsistent, and he holds on to the words of those who offer a more hopeful outlook. He also convinces colleagues that his project would make an interesting area of research, and so undertakes an fMRI scan so that he can see if his brain actually changes over the course of a year of intensive study. The results are fascinating. 

His endeavours are not all so deeply scientific however, he uses all the resources available to him from a Rosetta Stone course, watching French TV, making French penpals, and labelling every item in his kitchen with their French name. Many who read this will undoubtedly also be grappling with the language, and there’s much to be gained from making good use of the resources he mentions. We also learn much about the history of the language and how it is controlled to this day.  He meets other learners of all stages and ambitions, and ponders what inspires people to keep chipping away at learning late in life. It’s a nice realisation that it is perfectly acceptable to pursue an interest simply for the joy of it, you do not have to master everything you do, but the striving can enrich your life.

Unfortunately, alongside his attempts at language acquisition follow a series of serious health issues. He does wonder whether the stress of attempting to learn French is causing his heart to fail, and whether if he only has a short time to live he really wants to spend it grappling with conjugating verbs. These passages add an air of seriousness amid an otherwise very light and comedic read. He is self deprecating, and has unfortunate flashbacks to his strict high school French teacher when engaging a new online tutor. He also acknowledges the difficult etiquette issues of writing regularly to a young woman in France. Should he address her as tu or vous, and when they meet is it appropriate to kiss her cheek? He uses these dilemmas as a jumping off point for a deeper discussion of the rules around such encounters and how you work out what is the correct course of action, complete with a handy flow chart. 

This is an enjoyable, informative read. Alexander takes us along with him on an unsuccessful cycling holiday with his wife, a tortuous but useful couple of weeks at an intensive school, and opens up about his technique of pretending to be French in order to help with his learning, creating a French alter ego, Guy. He discusses the challenges not just for humans of learning a new language, but also for computers, explaining the quirks and context you need to understand to be able to translate a language (and makes the excellent point that in being fluent you would no longer be translating the language into your native tongue, but merely understanding it as is, a real challenge without full immersion for several years). Some of his realisations of how difficult it is to go from classroom French to real conversation with native speakers may feel disheartening, but this is perhaps a shining example not of how practice makes perfect, but progress, and the value of pursuing learning.

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Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, Gabrielle Zevin

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When Sadie and Sam run into each other at a train station during their student days it rekindles a childhood friendship that went sour. Working through past hurt, they reconcile and spend their summer making a game, Ichigo, which proves a huge success. They wouldn’t have been able to do it without the support of Sam’s kind flatmate Marx and Sadie’s toxic ex-teacher and lover Dov, whose engine they need to power their vision. This is a book about games, friendship, and growing up. It’s about our dreams and whether the world will let us achieve them, the draw of the infinite rebirth possible in video games, and how you cope with tragedy in the real world where there are no do-overs.

From the beginning you feel safe in Zevin’s very capable hands. This is not a simple story, the narrative jumps around, both in time and between the real world and the game world, and it deals with some heavy issues, but it is all handled expertly. Sadie is talented but sensitive, well aware of how women are viewed in the game world, of the perception that it must have been Sam that did the hard work on Ichigo. It doesn’t help that Sam, although generally a bit awkward, really shines while they are out promoting the game, while Sadie doesn’t have that natural flair. As time passes and they begin to work on other games she does not cope well with criticism, and reframes activity depending on whether it’s her or Sam doing it. When she’s out promoting games she feels it as hard work, when Sam is gone for long stretches doing the same she feels abandoned, as if he were simply on a holiday. 

Their relationship has history with falling out. They meet as children while Sam is in hospital recovering from a serious car crash and Sadie is visiting her sister who is undergoing treatment for cancer. They bond over their shared love of gaming, and the staff ask her to keep coming to play with him as she’s the only one he’s spoken to for weeks. When he realises this, that she was claiming the time as volunteer hours, he is naturally hurt and they don’t speak for years. We see in snippets of interviews that this won’t be the only time they fall out, and as the novel progresses we see this play out. Sadie grows tired with how much work she perceives being friends with Sam to be, and his innate desire to hide his suffering means that when she spirals, reframing everything that’s happened when she realises that Sam sent her back to Dov knowing they’d been lovers, believing he put his own ambition ahead of her well-being, he hasn’t shown enough of himself for her to understand why he’s become largely absent from the office. At times their friendship is incredibly frustrating, you just want them to talk to each other, to explain how they’re feeling, but it is realistically drawn. Friendships, especially in young adulthood, can be tumultuous, and their lack of emotional maturity is relatable. 

Marx is the stabilising force in their life. He perhaps doesn’t do enough to try and rectify their rifts, or to help Sadie when they can both see that her relationship with Dov has become unhealthy, but he always tries to look out for both of them, to listen to where they’re coming from and to gently encourage them back together. He believes in their work and commits to it, letting some of his other dreams go along the way. Some have criticised him as a character for being almost too perfect a human being, but he is likeable, considerate, and understanding, the kind of person we’d all like in our corner.

Sam has been through a lot of trauma in his life, and continues to suffer with the pain his injured foot causes, always having to be careful with where and how far he walks. In Sadie he finds someone that understands him, a true collaborator and friend. They love each other, even if he won’t say it, but not in a romantic way. Romance is something they have considered, but Sadie concludes that finding a true collaborator is far rarer than finding a lover, and so wants to protect that aspect of their relationship. When she finds romantic love elsewhere Sam realises that he’s lost her, even though he never tried to have her, that part of her is gone. It’s a difficult moment for him to overcome. Despite the fact she often freezes him out, he does persist, always looking out for her, ready when she wants him to be there.

The team work to make good games, and once they’re in a position to, to support new designers to create great games too. They understand the potential for making a better world than the one they’re living in. Mapleworld, a MMORPG, becomes hugely successful for them, and Sam becomes something of a star, having created an avatar for himself as the mayor of the town. They consciously decide to create a kinder, more inclusive world, for example, by making same-sex marriage possible while in America at the time it is illegal in some states. Zevin explores the power of games for making people feel welcome, but also the dark side, the outspoken opponents of such actions, and the tragic real-world consequences. We see how people become radicalised and carry out crimes without really understanding what they’re doing or what it is they’re protesting against. There is one particular standout moment where this becomes central, and it is handled thoughtfully and is very well done, but throughout Zevin weaves in real-world events, placing the novel in a very specific time and place, and considering the impacts these events had on creative outputs and the responses they garnered from audiences.

A wonderful read, whether you’re a gamer or not (I’m not and it didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the novel at all. If anything, it gave me a greater appreciation of what goes into creating games). Thoughtful, well plotted, and realistic, Zevin incorporates so many topics for deeper thought without making the novel feel heavy. The final quarter is an emotional read, and also includes a section of in-game narrative, allowing the characters to talk to each other when they’re not outside of the game. Sometimes narrative structures that jump around in time and place can make books more challenging to read and become absorbed in, but Zevin introduces snippets of information to either give you a boost in interest in what’s coming, or to fill in the gaps you’ve been intrigued by. It is done naturally and enhances the experience. A brilliant exploration of friendship, of growing up, and of living through the dawn of technology we now take for granted. There are so many references to other art forms and influences, it reminds you that games are works of art. This was a book that I kept thinking about between sessions, and which I wanted to get back to constantly. 

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