I received a copy of Going Somewhere by Brian Benson for review through the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program.

About the Book:

"Going Somewhere" by Brian Benson (review on erinreads.com)Going Somewhere is mostly about a cross-country bike trip Brian Benson, the author, took with his girlfriend, Rachel. After meeting in South America and then returning to their respective homes in Wisconsin (Brian) and Oregon (Rachel), the two decided to bike together from Brian’s home to Rachel’s.

Aside from the initial setup, in which the pair meets one another and makes plans, the book focuses on their ride, mile by mile and town by town. It follows them through broken spokes and illicit campsites; generous people and creepy strangers; exhilarating downhill adrenaline rushes and grueling, relationship-straining climbs. As they creep ever closer to Portland, Brian tries to make sense of his life, his relationship, and his place in the world.

My Thoughts:

I was excited to read Going Somewhere because it’s been compared to Wild by Cheryl Strayed, which I enjoyed. (There’s even a blurb from her on the cover.) Sadly, I was disappointed.

It’s not that Going Somewhere was bad. It just wasn’t what I was hoping for. It felt shallow somehow, immature. Maybe that’s because of where Benson was in his life when he took the trip; the book could be an accurate telling, even if it’s not what I’d expected or hoped for.

It felt like the book was supposed to be profound somehow, but it never really was. It just felt…young. Even the heavier moments seemed to be made light of because of the overall tone. And there was no lesson at the end. I didn’t feel like Benson came out of the experience changed. That’s fine, of course, except that the whole book seemed to be building toward some eventual revelation (which never materialized). Maybe I’ve been trained to expect too much from ordinary stories! But if you’re going to put your story in a book, I’m not sure those expectations are entirely unjustified.

Going Somewhere also felt repetitive. I’d imagine biking across the country could, indeed, get repetitive. But partway through the book, after a number of nearly identical small towns and daily routines and overnights with gracious hosts and tensions between the couple about riding speed, everything started to run together for me. The book began to read like a trip log wrapped in a gauze of flimsy narrative rather than a proper story. And I started to get impatient.

Also, it bothered me that the book begins several chapters before the ride but ends (I don’t believe this is much of a spoiler, but feel free to skip this paragraph if you’re worried!) before the ride does. I think I’d have liked it better had it been structured as either (a) the ride in the middle, with context on both ends, or (b) just the ride, with other relevant details (including how Rachel and Brian met) told as flashbacks throughout the ride. Ride as contained, or ride as container — not half and half.

The redeeming characteristic was Benson’s writing style. He truly has a way with words, simultaneously playful and profound. His metaphors and over-the-top-hyphenated adjectives were spot on rather than cliched. There was more than one turn of phrase I marveled over, paused to enjoy. Without that aspect, I’m not sure I’d have kept reading, honestly. (Also, the cover is quite lovely. Yet another example, though, of why you should not judge a book by what’s on the front of it!)

The Verdict: Mediocre

I didn’t love Going Somewhere, as I suppose is evident. The writing kept me from regretting the time I spent reading it, but I suspect it won’t stay long in my memory. If you want a soul-searching journey through the wilderness, go for Cheryl Strayed’s Wild instead.

Your Turn!

Have you ever read a book you expected might be like another one you’d enjoyed, only to be disappointed? What was it?


I never read Room. I know it’s supposedly wonderful, but I couldn’t get past the subject matter. I was curious about Emma Donogue, though, so when I found the audiobook version of Frog Music at my library, I decided to give it a listen.

About the Book:

"Frog Music" by Emma Donoghue (audiobook) (erinreads.com)Blanche Beunon is perfectly happy with her life in San Francisco, where she’s been since she and her two fellow ex-circus performers emigrated from France. Her burlesque performances are highly sought after, as is her company afterward (by those gentleman who can afford her). But everything changes when the unconventional Jenny Bonnet crashes into Blanche on her high-wheeler bicycle. As the two women grow closer, it seems like nothing in Blanche’s life remains untouched.

Then Jenny is shot one night, on a remote edge of the city, in the room where she and Blanche have gone to lie low. (Don’t worry, that’s not a spoiler — it’s where the book starts!) Blanche is sure she knows who killed her friend, but no one will believe her. Fearing for her own life and the life of her infant son, who has gone missing, she attempts to keep herself safe while she puts together evidence to support her suspicions, along the way uncovering a side of Jenny she never knew.

My Thoughts:

What an interesting book. It actually begins with the night Jenny is killed and then dips back into the past, starting with the day just a month earlier when Jenny crashes into Blanche on her bicycle. From there, the story moves forward on two timelines: the first narrating what happened from the women’s first encounter to the night of the murder, and the second covering Blanche’s frantic days following Jenny’s death. This alternating unspooling worked well and kept things interesting.

Donoghue did an excellent job bringing to life San Francisco in 1876, when the new and vastly multicultural city was gripped by a smallpox outbreak and sweltering under a horrific heat wave. Perhaps part of my appreciation comes from the fact that I live near San Francisco and recognized many of the landmarks Blanche mentions, have walked down some of the same streets. But I think even without the familiarity, I’d have enjoyed Donoghue’s rendering. On top of that, Jenny and Blanche are both music lovers, and Donoghue wove snippets of songs throughout the story, from both their mouths and the mouths of other characters. The music adds an additional dimension to the already rich setting.

Frog Music is based on a crime that was never solved. Donoghue managed to piece together a plausible explanation, complete with a reason why the truth never came to light. I’m not sure how much of the story is based on truth and how much was stretched or fabricated, but it does make for an intriguing and enjoyable read.

As I mentioned, I went the audio route, and I’m glad I did. When a book is heavy on a foreign language, as this one is on French, I often prefer to listen to it rather than frustrating myself by trying to slog through the written text. For whatever reason, though I don’t understand it in either form, I’d rather listen. (Donoghue did a wonderful job getting the gist of any French she included across without directly translating it, which I very much appreciated.) The narrator, Khristine Hvam, was fine. No complaints from me. Her accents were good, her singing voice passable (yep, she sang some of the songs!). Definitely one I’d recommend.

The Verdict: Enjoyable

I liked Frog Music. I thought it was a well told, absorbing story that didn’t stretch the limits of believability beyond what I was willing to accept. The audio production is good. Overall, a nice introduction to Emma Donoghue. Based on this experience, I’m sure I’ll read more from her in the future.

Your Turn!

What novels have you enjoyed that were based, at least in part, on a forgotten tidbit of history?


I originally encountered The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson, the first book in The Fire and Thorns trilogy, on Instagram. The recommendation came from someone whose opinion I trust, so I borrowed the audio from my library to give it a go. Best. Decision. Ever! Luckily my library had The Crown of Embers and The Bitter Kingdom, too.

About the Books:


Every hundred years, a bearer is born — a person with a living Godstone in his or her navel and an unknown act of heroism in his or her future. Sixteen-year-old Elisa is such a bearer.

She’s also a coddled, sheltered princess who is more interested in honey coconut scones than politics or destinies and used to living in the shadow of her beautiful and brilliant older sister. Aside from the mysterious stone in her navel, Elisa can’t see anything remarkable about herself at all — and neither, really, can anyone else.

Then her father and sister arrange her secret marriage to a handsome but weak king. From the moment she sets out from the home she’s always known for her new husband’s capital city, her life begins to change in dramatic and irrevocable ways.

And that’s all I’ll say. The rest is best discovered as the story unfolds!

My Thoughts:

You guys. Holy cow. I adored this trilogy. I will do my best to write a coherent review, but…wow. I’m still buzzing from having finished listening to the last book just a few days ago!

You know those books that you desperately want to tear through, but at the same time you know you should pace yourself and savor them so they last as long as possible? All three installments of the Fire and Thorns trilogy were those kinds of books for me. No weak volumes here. From start to finish, Rae Carson had me hanging on her every word.

The world in which this trilogy is set is fascinating. It has a somewhat medieval flavor, with city strongholds and travel by horse or camel and the like. Its history, though, and its varied peoples and regions, are all its own. Carson builds up a mythology and a religion that so fully suffuse her physical setting that they seem one with it. Everything loops and twines together into a sturdy, airtight container in which the story can occur, and every new revelation of Elisa’s uncovers some new piece of the ever-growing puzzle for us.

Speaking of the story, it’s gripping. There’s no other word for it. Carson channels her creativity through Elisa, the trilogy’s narrator and centerpiece. The author gets her heroine out of bind after bind, always in clever and unexpected (but still believable) ways. There was far more edge-of-my-seat delight than eye-rolling happening on my end throughout. And one particular decision Carson makes in the first book sucks any sense of predictability or sacredness from the story. Everything and everyone is fair game. As a result, you stop trusting that she’ll take the easy path. Every situation could go a number of ways. It’s exhilarating!

The novels’ crowning achievements, in my opinion, though, are their characters. Elisa is everything you could want in a heroine, in part because you see her whole development from sheltered, naive princess to…well…I won’t tell you, so that I don’t ruin the story, but I assure you her journey is incredibly satisfying! She’s surrounded and supported by a diverse and amazingly well differentiated cast. Carson crafts memorable characters with their own lives, histories, preferences, and quirks. Even as the constellations in which they appear shift, each member remains distinct. Dropping into a book each time was like being among familiar faces.

Jennifer Ikeda reads the whole trilogy, and she is perfect. Not only does she fill out Elisa’s voice well, she also has distinct voices for each of the other characters. I could tell who was talking just from the voice she used for an impressive array of characters. She was an absolute pleasure to listen to, and while I’m sure the print version is wonderful as well, I’m happy I chose the audio route.

The Verdict: Amazing

I doubt I have to reiterate how much I loved this book. I have zero complaints. In fact, I wish there were more books in the series for me to read! Kristin Cashore’s Graceling still holds top place on my favorites list, but the Fire and Thorns trilogy is definitely way, way up there. If you enjoy this sort of book, I hope you’ll give it a try! Just make sure you have all three books ready to go, because trust me, when you finish one, you’ll want to pick up the next one right away.

Your Turn!

What’s the last book (or series) that left you over-the-moon satisfied, and at the same time, wishing for more?


"Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister" by Gregory Maguire (audiobook) (erinreads.com)I’ve been on a Gregory Maguire binge lately. Not so much because I’ve been loving his books, but more because they’ve been taking up space on my shelves and I wanted to know if they deserved their place! I recently tore through the Wicked Years series, then listened to Mirror, Mirror (which I didn’t like enough to bother reviewing). The sixth and final Maguire title on my shelves was Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister.

About the Book:

Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister is, as you might guess from the title, a retelling of the classic fairytale Cinderella — the “real” version behind the legend.

Margarethe and her two daughters, Iris and Ruth, arrive in the Netherlands, Margarethe’s country of birth, after a violent incident in their adopted home country of England. Ruth, the older sister, is large and slow of mind; Iris is plain but quick-witted. After searching and begging for work, the three finally find a temporary place with a painter whose star seems poised to rise. But power-hungry Margarethe cannot be content with her place and is always on the lookout for opportunities to climb the social ladder, no matter the cost.

My Thoughts:

Of all the novels by Gregory Maguire I’ve read — six in all — I think this one was my favorite. I still didn’t love it, but at least it told a good story without slipping into too much darkness (the way Wicked, my second favorite, eventually did).

I liked Iris, as I think you’re supposed to. She’s curious and clever, the only logical one in her family. The story is told in limited third person through her eyes, which opens her character up more than the others’. She is still mostly a child as the story unfolds, but you can see the beginnings of the adult she’ll grow into forming before your eyes. The other character I liked especially was Caspar, the painter’s apprentice. Good-natured and friendly, he is kind to Iris when the rest of the world is cruel.

Mild spoiler alert!

I appreciated that the precious Clara (our Cinderella) was not as unwillingly consigned to a servant’s life as she is in the Disney version. Margarethe may be borderline insane, but her daughters mean Clara no harm, and no one forces her to live out her days amongst the fireplace ashes. She is so much more human than the usual portrayal of this particular role, and I appreciated that.

The writing style, the bizarre tidbits of eccentricity, the tinge of dark magical/mysterious presence — all those elements I’ve come to expect from Maguire are present in Confessions. What I appreciated about this book more than his others is that he stayed on track, kept a few of the characters sufficiently likable, and resisted plunging too deeply into weirdness or darkness. All of that meant his creativity around crafting the “real” version of a well-known fairytale could shine.

As with the others of his books, though I own the print copies, I listened to Confessions. It was read by Jenny Sterlin, who did a nice job. Her narration never got in the way of the story, which is the mark of a good reader in my opinion. (A great one brings the character s/he narrates for to life; Sterlin didn’t quite reach that level.)

The Verdict: Enjoyable

Honestly, if someone asked me where to start with Gregory Maguire’s stuff, I’d probably recommend Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, followed by Wicked if the person liked Maguire’s style. It won’t be making my favorites list, but it was enjoyable enough to listen to.


Long ago, when I first started blogging about books, I read A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka. It was cute enough, so when I came across another of her novels, Strawberry Fields, I picked it up.

About the Book:

"Strawberry Fields" by Marina Lewycka (erinreads.com)Clever, ambitious, opinionated, but slightly naive Irina is the newest recruit to the strawberry-picking operation in rural England. She’s come west in the hopes of earning better money than she can back home. She joins Marta, Yola, and Tomasz from Poland, Vitaly from origins about which he is vague, Emmanuel from Malawi, two Chinese girls none of the others can tell apart, and Andriy, who is, like herself, from Ukraine. Stuffed into two small trailers for living quarters, the workers bond together in a ragtag kind of community.

Their tentative position doesn’t last long, though. An incident with the strawberry farmer and his wife turns the pickers’ world upside down and flings them out into the great wide world of England.

My Thoughts:

I am not sure what compelled me to finish this book. Honestly, I didn’t like it much. Perhaps it was a mild curiosity about where Lewycka was going with all the randomness that kept me reluctantly flipping pages.

To start with, the narration is weird. The chapters are long; within them, the story is told through short chunks from various characters. Irina speaks in the first person, even though she does not appear to be the single primary character. Emmanuel’s parts are written as letters to his sister in what I have to admit is an interestingly constructed flavor of English all his own. The other pickers’ perspectives are narrated in limited third person. Eventually there is a dog who speaks without grammar and in all caps, beginning and ending each utterance with “I AM DOG.” It just…never hung together for me.

The way Lewycka writes about her characters feels like she is making fun of them. This is particularly true of the characters who don’t end up figuring as prominently in the overall story. I never came to care about any of them, as they all seemed like caricatures of themselves. I know that style can certainly work, but personally I don’t tend to love books where I have no attachment to any of the characters. (Unless, of course, select forms of literary pyrotechnics are being executed well…which is not the case here.)

Then there was the story itself. Many elements felt exaggerated, silly, stretched to the point of being farcical. There were coincidences and chance meetings out the wazoo. Ok, fine. No problem there, I suppose. But then, out of the blue, something horribly dark would happen, or I’d find out almost by way of a P.S. that something awful had befallen a character. At the edge of this bright, borderline ridiculous world, something twisted and black was nibbling throughout. The result was a novel that felt out of sync with itself.

I did finish it. There were a few touching scenes, where a kind of tender humanness broke through before the extremes crowded it out again. And by the end, the characters who are still a part of the main story have at last acquired a kind of three-dimensional shape to them to replace the stereotyped roles they’d played initially. Lewycka also did a nice job tying up loose ends, which I appreciated. But the book never won me over. My satisfaction came from making it through, rather than from the story itself.

The Verdict: Mediocre

Obviously I didn’t love Strawberry Fields. It may just be that it was way out of alignment with my personal preferences. You won’t find me recommending it, though. I liked Lewycka’s A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian better.

Your Turn!

What books have you read that felt out of step with themselves? Is that something you like, or does it get on your nerves?