Lauren Bufferd

FictionLiterary Fiction

What we leave behind online

Review by Lauren Bufferd

Lara Vapnyar’s absorbing new novel is about immigrating to America, where life must be managed despite dashed hopes and disappointments. Expanding the reach of her previous novels, The Scent of Pine and Memoirs of a Muse, Still Here explores the overlapping lives of a quartet of friends who struggle with love and ambition in their chosen country. 

Vica, Vadik, Sergey and Regina met as students in Moscow. Though each of them has achieved their dream of coming to America, life in the Big Apple is not what they expected. Sergey has one disastrous low-level job after another and spends most of his energy trying to perfect Virtual Grave, an app that will allow people to preserve their online presence after death. Putting aside plans for medical school, his spirited wife, Vica, struggles to keep the family financially solvent. Sergey’s old girlfriend Regina, now married to a wealthy American businessman, mourns her former career as a translator and her place at the center of Moscow’s rich literary culture, while Sergey’s best friend, Vadik, moves from neighborhood to neighborhood and girlfriend to girlfriend, searching for the woman and the sense of opportunity he found on his very first night in New York.

The creation of Virtual Grave proves the focus of much of the action as the four friends debate its potential value, how best to market it and what the app reveals about the commercial culture surrounding death. But these discussions also spur questions about how to define success and what it really means to leave a legacy. 

Vapnyar is a brilliant observer of the differences between Russian culture and American life, especially the cosmopolitan, urban variety—and despite the fatalistic worldview of her characters, the author’s belief that miracles do happen provides much humor. A piercing novel about the absurdities of the digital age, Still Here is also the finest kind of comedy of manners, as much a snapshot of how we live now as were the 19th-century novels of Anthony Trollope and George Eliot.

 

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Lara Vapnyar’s absorbing new novel is about immigrating to America, where life must be managed despite dashed hopes and disappointments. Expanding the reach of her previous novels, The Scent of Pine and Memoirs of a Muse, Still Here explores the overlapping lives of a quartet of friends who struggle with love and ambition in their chosen country.
FictionHistorical Fiction

An artist tries to find her way

Review by Lauren Bufferd

British author Jessie Burton’s sophomore effort juggles two eras: 1960s London and central Spain at the start of the Spanish Civil War. Like The Miniaturist (2014), The Muse focuses on a work of art that influences the lives around it. In this case, the work is a significant Spanish painting with a mysterious provenance that links the lives of three women over four decades. 

The 1960s narrator of The Muse is Odelle Bastien, originally from Trinidad and an aspiring writer trying to find her way in London. Lonely and underemployed in a shoe shop, she finds an unexpected mentor in Marjorie Quick, who not only hires her at the Skelton Institute of Art, but also supports her literary ambitions. 

In the parallel story, art dealer Henry Schloss has settled with his wife and 19-year-old daughter, Olive, in a small Spanish village outside of Malaga in 1936. Half siblings Isaac and Teresa Robles step in as handyman and maid for the wealthy family. Olive is drawn to Isaac, a painter swept up by the country’s revolutionary fervor. An artist herself, Olive has kept her talent a secret from her father. Olive persuades Isaac to present her work as his, and soon after, notable collectors such as Peggy Guggenheim are writing the young Spaniard. 

The two stories come together when Odelle’s boyfriend, Lawrie, shows up at the Skelton with a striking painting that belonged to his mother. The work is promoted by the gallery as a newly uncovered masterpiece by Isaac, but Odelle is disturbed by both Lawrie’s lack of honesty about his family and Marjorie’s panicked reaction to the painting. 

Though the details are intriguing, the plot wobbles a bit, and the otherwise determined Olive’s protests against claiming her work as her own don’t quite ring true. Still, Burton has a sure grasp on how ambition and revenge prove to be great motivators. The Muse proves an enjoyable read, especially for those interested in its inventive blend of art and history.

 

This article was originally published in the August 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

British author Jessie Burton’s sophomore effort juggles two eras: 1960s London and central Spain at the start of the Spanish Civil War. Like The Miniaturist (2014), The Muse focuses on a work of art that influences the lives around it. In this case, the work is a significant Spanish painting with a mysterious provenance that links the lives of three women over four decades.
FictionDebut Fiction

A British suburb’s dangerous secrets

Review by Lauren Bufferd

In the Gospel of Matthew, God categorizes his flock as either obedient sheep, or goats who lack faith and compassion. But people are not so easily summed up in Joanna Cannon’s debut novel, The Trouble with Goats and Sheep, a gentle story about the damage done by the secrets we keep and the judgments we make.

The novel opens in the mid-1970s in a suburban British housing estate called the Avenue, on a blisteringly hot summer day. The disappearance of a local woman, Mrs. Creasy, has residents on high alert, and the rumors are flying. Grace, a precocious 10-year-old, and her best friend, Tilly, decide to investigate. They start with the vicar, who delivers a confusing sermon on the whereabouts of God. Given this start, the girls become certain that if they can locate the Almighty, Mrs. Creasy is sure to follow.  

The spirited girls take their questions about faith from house to house, trying to make sense of the fragmented accounts and mixed messages they hear. What becomes clear to the reader, if not the girls, is that their neighbors are keeping a deadly secret—one that may have led to Mrs. Creasy’s departure. 

The novel is told from the points of view of the innocent but perceptive Grace and six of her neighbors, including the absent-minded Dorothy; Brian, kept on a short leash by his overbearing mother; and John Creasy, the increasingly frantic husband of the missing woman. The Avenue, with its flawed but sympathetic characters living chockablock on the suburban street, is Cannon’s most successful creation, and one in which her insight into the problems of ordinary people is most persuasive. Part mystery, part coming-of-age novel, The Trouble with Goats and Sheep presents our complicated world with compassion and humor, seen through a child’s eyes.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read a Q&A with author Joanna Cannon about The Trouble with Goats and Sheep.
 

This article was originally published in the July 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In the Gospel of Matthew, God categorizes his flock as either obedient sheep, or goats who lack faith and compassion. But people are not so easily summed up in Joanna Cannon’s debut novel, The Trouble with Goats and Sheep, a gentle story about the damage done by the secrets we keep and the judgments we make.
Fiction

It’s always the quiet ones

Review by Lauren Bufferd

Opposites attract in She Poured Out Her Heart, Jean Thompson’s new novel, which is located in the heartland—both literally and figuratively. Set in the Midwest and tracing the relationship between two very different women, the novel follows them from their years as college roommates as they quickly settle into roles they seem almost destined to play.

Jane and Bonnie met at a frat party almost immediately after Jane’s rather lackluster loss of virginity. Bonnie was wild and impetuous, drawn to the dramatic and the crazy in any situation. Jane was quieter and more cautious. This was reflected in their choice of men as well: After a series of dull boyfriends, Jane ended up marrying a Eric, medical student and set out to be the perfect wife and mother, whereas Bonnie partied her way in and out of relationships and drank too much, even as she excelled in her career as a crisis manager. But Jane carries a secret, almost mystical attachment to her ability to zone out, to vanish into the whiteness, as she called it. This culminates horribly at a Christmas open house, when she wanders into the backyard, removes her clothes and lies down in the snow. Despite her career in crisis intervention, Bonnie is caught off guard, both by Jane’s mental collapse and by her own unspoken need for stability.

In Jane and Bonnie, Thompson has created two very believable protagonists and following the twists of their relationship is an engaging journey. But after Jane’s breakdown, the novel slides dangerously close to a slack domestic drama of marital discord and betrayal. Fans of Thompson might find the study of the two women’s friendship worthwhile, but newcomers should start with her shorter fiction such as Who Do You Love (a National Book Award finalist) where her literary gifts shine more brightly. Still, Thompson is a master of emotional complexities and has a real knack for capturing the passionate swells and currents that pulse within the hearts of even the most conventional characters.

Opposites attract in She Poured Out Her Heart, Jean Thompson’s new novel, which is located in the heartland—both literally and figuratively. Set in the Midwest and tracing the relationship between two very different women, the novel follows them from their years as college roommates as they quickly settle into roles they seem almost destined to play.
FictionHistorical Fiction

A landmark college career

Review by Lauren Bufferd

In 1897, Anita Hemmings was a senior at Vassar College alongside some of the best and brightest girls in the country. She was a member of the Glee Club and a fierce debater, but Hemmings also held a secret that should have banned her from admission: She was an African American. In The Gilded Years, Karin Tanabe fictionalizes the story of the real-life Hemmings, who graduated from Vassar more than 40 years before Vassar allowed African Americans to enroll. 

The daughter of a Boston janitor and the descendant of slaves, Hemmings was light complexioned enough to pass as white, and she was even voted class beauty. She kept a distance from her classmates, but in her senior year, Hemmings roomed with wealthy and well-connected Lottie Taylor. As she befriends the adventurous Lottie, Anita finds herself enjoying life as a privileged white woman. But when Lottie becomes infatuated with Anita’s brother, Anita’s secret faces a serious threat. 

A Vassar graduate, Tanabe first learned about Anita Hemmings from an article in the alumni magazine. This engaging novel, set in a time of conflict between old money and new ideas, captures both the bravery and the heartbreak of Anita’s decision. Though the writing at times lacks nuance, the story is a captivating one. Readers won’t soon forget Anita Hemmings or the choices she made.

 

This article was originally published in the June 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

In 1897, Anita Hemmings was a senior at Vassar College alongside some of the best and brightest girls in the country. She was a member of the Glee Club and a fierce debater, but Hemmings also held a secret that should have banned her from admission: She was an African American. In The Gilded Years, Karin Tanabe fictionalizes the story of the real-life Hemmings, who graduated from Vassar more than 40 years before Vassar allowed African Americans to enroll.
FictionFamily Saga

Mother knows best (really!)

Review by Lauren Bufferd

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, June 2016

The title of Cathleen Schine’s new novel riffs on Philip Larkin’s poem “This Be the Verse,” which explores the inevitability of parent-child dysfunction (though Larkin used much blunter language). A deeply affecting yet very funny intergenerational novel, They May Not Mean To, but They Do examines the upending of one family as their mother attempts to age in place, despite the protests from her adult children.

Joy Bergman is barely hanging on to a rent-controlled East Side Manhattan apartment and single-handedly caring for her husband, Aaron, who has developed full-blown Alzheimer’s. The pair is a constant source of worry for their adult children, but Molly lives with her wife on the West coast, and Daniel has his own family and a demanding job downtown. After Aaron dies, Molly and Daniel try more assertively to include Joy in their lives. But Joy has plans of her own, clinging to her job as a museum conservator and rekindling a relationship with an old flame, Karl—a move that enrages her children. Still, Joy struggles with depression and with finding a new sense of self in the challenging world of widowhood. 

They May Not Mean To, but They Do is the fictional equivalent of Roz Chast’s brilliant memoir of dutiful daughterhood, Can’t We Talk About Something More Pleasant?, though seen primarily from the point of view of the exasperated elderly parent. Schine writes about the fierce love that binds generations, but also about the tensions, fears and resentments that run high on both sides. Yet the novel is as humorous as it is compassionate. Though Schine is best known for effortless-seeming confections such as Fin & Lady and The New Yorkers, They May Not Mean To, but They Do has an extra layer of depth and dignity, making for a profound but very readable novel that is among her very best.

 

This article was originally published in the June 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

The title of Cathleen Schine’s new novel riffs on Philip Larkin’s poem “This Be the Verse,” which explores the inevitability of parent-child dysfunction (though Larkin used much blunter language). A deeply affecting yet very funny intergenerational novel, They May Not Mean To, but They Do examines the upending of one family as their mother attempts to age in place, despite the protests from her adult children.
FictionHistorical Fiction

The whaler’s rallying cry

Review by Lauren Bufferd

“Rush oh!” was the rallying cry of the whalers in New South Wales, shouted when they spotted their target and set out to sea. It is also the title of Australian screenwriter Shirley Barrett’s fictional debut, a charming blend of history, whaling folklore and period illustrations, based on an actual whaling family in Eden, New South Wales. 

Rush Oh! is set during the harsh whaling season of 1908. At 19, Mary Davidson is the oldest daughter of the community’s lead whaler. Responsible for the care of her five motherless siblings, she is also the cook and laundress for her father’s crew and old enough to understand what the use of kerosene over whale oil might mean to the family finances. A mysterious new arrival—a minister turned whaler—provides some romantic distraction for Mary, but the day-to-day worries over dwindling reserves and an empty larder take precedence. 

Barrett’s inspiration for this novel came from a visit to the Killer Whale Museum in Eden, and it is her depiction of the symbiotic relationship between human and beast that gives this novel so much of its offbeat charm. Killer whales earned their nickname because of their method of attacking and hunting fish and sea mammals with incredible skill and dexterity. In Rush Oh!, the pod of whales work in tandem with the fishermen, luring larger whales to the bay, and receiving their cut of the spoils when the killing is done. 

 Rush Oh! is buoyed by Mary’s tart and unsentimental tone and wry observations of her family and neighbors. But her gentle scorn blinds her to some of the events happening right under her nose, especially when her frivolous sister Louisa makes a decision that shocks the whole family. Despite the graphic depictions of whale hunting (perhaps not for the squeamish), Rush Oh! is a lively, humorous portrayal of the domestic side of whaling at the end of its heyday, told with genuine sympathy and good will.

 

This article was originally published in the April 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

“Rush oh!” was the rallying cry of the whalers in New South Wales, shouted when they spotted their target and set out to sea. It is also the title of Australian screenwriter Shirley Barrett’s fictional debut, a charming blend of history, whaling folklore and period illustrations, based on an actual whaling family in Eden, New South Wales.
FictionLiterary Fiction

When forgery becomes fact

Review by Lauren Bufferd

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, April 2016

Australian author Dominic Smith has brought historic events and vibrant places to life in books like The Mercury Visions of Louis Daguerre and Bright and Distant Shores. His fourth novel, The Last Painting of Sara de Vos, centers on a single 17th-century painting that changes the course of three lives over four centuries and across several continents. 

The novel has three narrative threads. In 1631, Sara de Vos became the first woman to be admitted as a master painter to the Dutch Guild of St. Luke. By 1957, her only known remaining work, “At the Edge of a Wood,” hangs in the bedroom of Marty de Groot, a wealthy patent lawyer in Manhattan. In the shabbier reaches of Brooklyn, Ellie Shipley, an art history graduate student with a background in art restoration, is approached about creating a forgery. Shortly after, the de Vos is stolen, and the clues lead to Ellie’s grimy studio. 

Decades later, Ellie is a prominent curator in Sydney, mounting an exhibition on women painters of the Dutch Golden Age. Both paintings—the original and the forgery—are en route to her museum, and Ellie is forced to confront what she did. Behind the contemporary mystery of the forged work are questions about de Vos herself and what led her to break with convention, despite the strict Guild rules governing women painters and subject matter. Though the way these elements intersect may be guessed by astute readers early on, the pleasure here is watching Smith control all three stories—the pertinent questions are answered in ways that not only convince, but also satisfy. 

The Last Painting of Sara de Vos does what the best books can do: sweep the reader into unfamiliar worlds filled with intriguing characters. The immense challenges faced by women in the arts, both past and present, are also skillfully rendered, and the gritty details—from behind-the-scenes museum work to the formulas of an art forger—are managed with finesse. Smith’s characters are so real and the novel plotted so thoughtfully that one finishes with a sigh of contentment. The Last Painting of Sara de Vos is a true pleasure to read.

 

This article was originally published in the April 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Australian author Dominic Smith has brought historic events and vibrant places to life in books like The Mercury Visions of Louis Daguerre and Bright and Distant Shores,. His fourth novel, The Last Painting of Sara de Vos, centers on a single 17th-century painting that changes the course of three lives over four centuries and across several continents.
FictionLiterary Fiction

A playful collection fueled by twisted myths and fairy tales

Review by Lauren Bufferd

Helen Oyeyemi, who was named one of Granta’s Best Young British Novelists in 2013, continues to intrigue with her first collection of stories What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours. Each of the nine playful stories centers around a key, both metaphorical and literal, opening doors to the kind of fantastical plots and insightful observations that readers have come to expect from her.

Oyeyemi’s stories carry with them more than a whiff of fairy tales—from the opener, “Books and Roses,” about two women in Barcelona whose search for lost loved ones lead them from a private library to a secret locked garden, to “Dornicka and the St. Martin’s Day Goose,” a fractured take on Little Red Riding Hood. “Is Your Blood as Red as This?” is the sinister story of puppeteers in thrall to their puppets with echoes of Pinocchio’s existential desire for realness and the chill of adolescents competing for sexual attention. Cautionary tales such as “Sorry Doesn’t Sweeten Her Tea” and “If a Book is Locked There’s Probably a Good Reason for That” remind the reader that sometimes things are off limits for good reasons. Though the stories’ plots are not linked, recurring characters pop up in more than one tale, and several are students or teachers at the school of puppetry that serves as the setting of some of the collection’s spookiest moments. Despite the allusions to haunted houses, padlocked gardens and murderous tyrants, the tone is cheerful and the stories surprisingly upbeat; in “A Brief History of the Homely Wench Society,” the conclusion is downright sentimental.

 Oyeyemi has been inspired by African folklore and ghost stories since her debut, The Icarus Girl, and here she pulls from sources as varied as Cuban mythology, Edgar Allen Poe and the Brothers Grimm. Though a few convoluted tales fall flat, the best are cleverly crafted to both embody and subvert the archetypes they explore. Her enthusiasm for a world where witches and phantoms coexist with psychiatrists and graduate students is infectious. What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours leaves readers with the captivating notion that behind every locked door lies additional mysteries.

Helen Oyeyemi, who was named one of Granta’s Best Young British Novelists in 2013, continues to intrigue with her first collection of stories What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours. Each of the nine playful stories centers around a key, both metaphorical and literal, opening doors to the kind of fantastical plots and insightful observations that readers have come to expect from her.
FictionHistorical Fiction

Being black in Berlin

Review by Lauren Bufferd

Novelist and essayist Darryl Pinckney draws on the legacy of Christopher Isherwood’s 1930s expat classic, The Berlin Stories, in his second novel, Black Deutschland. Pinckney’s young, African-American narrator, Jed Goodfinch, makes repeated visits to Berlin in the decade before the Berlin Wall falls in 1989. Unlike Isherwood’s characters, however, Jed can openly state that the city’s thriving gay community is a big part of its appeal.

Jed has spent several summers in Berlin, drinking and drugging at the Chi Chi bar and sponging off his cousin Cello, an imperious classical pianist who married into a wealthy German family. But his latest visit is different: Fresh out of rehab, Jed is working with a celebrated and controversial architect whose project to renovate whole sections of West Berlin mirror Jed’s hopes for his own reinvention. 

The novel shifts in time, much as Jed travels between Berlin and Chicago. Chicago represents the complexities of being a black man in the United States, not to mention Jed’s parents’ disappointment in him—though whether that is due to his addiction or his sexuality, he’s not sure. Berlin means AA meetings with black GIs, bohemian clubs, socialist co-ops—and lots of love, mostly unrequited but, in one magical instance, very requited indeed. 

Black Deutschland is an episodic mix of ideas, places, happenings and emotions. At its best, the novel plunges the reader directly into singular events—the dismantling of the Berlin Wall, or the somber days after the sudden death of Harold Washington, Chicago’s first black mayor. Though the shifts in time and place can be disorientingly swift, the through note is Jed’s wryly comic, witheringly honest voice. Pinckney’s belief in a ferocious intellect as a key component in the engaged life is deliciously present in this inviting and absorbing novel. 

RELATED CONTENT: Read a Q&A with Darryl Pinckney about this book.

This article was originally published in the February 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Novelist and essayist Darryl Pinckney draws on the legacy of Christopher Isherwood’s 1930s expat classic, The Berlin Stories, in his second novel, Black Deutschland. Pinckney’s young, African-American narrator, Jed Goodfinch, makes repeated visits to Berlin in the decade before the Berlin Wall falls in 1989. Unlike Isherwood’s characters, however, Jed can openly state that the city’s thriving gay community is a big part of its appeal.
FictionDebut Fiction

Mystery of a missing novelist

Review by Lauren Bufferd

BookPage Fiction Top Pick, February 2016

Poet and translator Idra Novey brings a considerable imagination to her first work of fiction, Ways to Disappear, in which the disappearance of a famous novelist upends the life of her American translator.

The novel opens with a touch of magic realism: Legendary Brazilian writer Beatriz Yagoda lights a cigar, climbs into an almond tree with a suitcase and vanishes. Hundreds of miles away, her American translator, Emma Neufield, hears the news. Abruptly canceling her classes and leaving her stuffy boyfriend, Miles, behind, Emma flies from snowy Pittsburgh to sultry Rio to lead the search. By the time she arrives, the situation has grown complex: Yagoda’s children, the practical Raquel and the devastatingly sexy Marcus (neither of whom has ever completed reading one of their mother’s books), have discovered that their mother owes thousands to an angry loan shark. The eccentric cast of characters crisscrosses Brazil from Rio’s sordid back alleys to sunny beach towns and island resorts in pursuit of the missing writer. 

Stylish and funny, romantic and surreal, Ways to Disappear is a quirky look at the intimate relationship between author and translator. Novey, who has translated several South American writers, including the great Clarice Lispector, has absorbed their experimental spirit, and the story is interspersed with Miles’ increasingly panicky emails and Emma’s translation notes. Though Ways to Disappear unfolds at the rapid pace of a screwball comedy, there is also something patient and artful about the novel, making it a thoughtful treatise on writing and artmaking that is as profound as it is playful.
 

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our Q&A with Novey about Ways to Disappear.

This article was originally published in the February 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Poet and translator Idra Novey brings a considerable imagination to her first work of fiction, Ways to Disappear, in which the disappearance of a famous novelist upends the life of her American translator.
FictionLiterary Fiction

A family’s secrets come to light

Review by Lauren Bufferd

Tessa Hadley is an alchemist, transforming everyday life into the stuff of brilliant fiction. In previous stories and novels, like 2014’s Clever Girl, the British writer has captured the beauty, messiness and irony of family life, especially marriages. Her new novel, The Past, keeps to the domestic sphere, examining the lives of four adult siblings who gather at a country house for the summer.

Ostensibly, the vacation is to decide whether or not to sell the vicarage, the gracefully decaying home where the four were raised by grandparents after their mother’s death from breast cancer. Sisters Harriet, Fran and Alice are also curious about their brother Roland’s third wife and eager to visit with teenage niece Molly. Kasim, the son of Alice’s ex-boyfriend, tags along and also takes an interest in Molly. Meanwhile Fran’s children, Ivy and Arthur, run wild, spy on the young couple and make an unsettling discovery in an abandoned cottage in the woods. Dignified, quiet Harriet, the oldest of the sisters, relishes her private time but soon finds herself responding to one of the house guests with a passion that even she can’t contain. 

There is not a lot of action in The Past. The sisters gossip about their new sister-in-law. They play cards and drink gin, watch the growing flirtation between the two young adults and, together with their brother, wonder how long they can hold on to the vicarage—and if they even want to. But just as sure as mold is growing in the long unused pantry, past arguments and unresolved jealousies and resentments have been quietly building. The present resonates with the secrets the past holds. 

Hadley’s prose is irresistible and gorgeous. Descriptions of the land around the vicarage and cottage ring with a poetic intensity, and she richly evokes the sounds and smells of the outdoors: the bird calls, the wind, the summer rain moving through grasses and trees. Her thoughtful observations regarding the inner world of her characters and the outer landscape of their surroundings make this latest effort a novel of remarkable skill and scope. 

 

This article was originally published in the January 2016 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Tessa Hadley is an alchemist, transforming everyday life into the stuff of brilliant fiction. In previous stories and novels, like 2014’s Clever Girl, the British writer has captured the beauty, messiness and irony of family life, especially marriages. Her new novel, The Past, keeps to the domestic sphere, examining the lives of four adult siblings who gather at a country house for the summer.
FictionLiterary Fiction

The watchdog press

Review by Lauren Bufferd

Paradise City, which opens with a quote from the Guns and Roses song praising the virtues of a place full of possibilities, is a compassionate but upbeat look at four interlocking lives in contemporary London. Though it opens with a grim encounter between a wealthy businessman and a hotel maid, the novel is both thoughtful and witty, unafraid of tackling big subjects (sexual assault, political asylum) but also finding joy in the smallest of human connections.

The story alternates between four perspectives, the aforementioned self-made millionaire Sir Howard Pink and Ugandan political refugee Beatrice Kizza, who is supporting herself as a chambermaid. When Pink assaults Kizza in his hotel room, it sets off a chain of events that not only proves life changing for both of them but also draws in Esme Reade, a young and aspiring journalist desperate to get an interview with Pink. On the outskirts of the city, Carol Hetherington, a quiet widow, uncovers something in her neighbor’s garden while house-sitting that also has unexpected consequences for Pink.

Each character is well crafted and the book is filled with the kind of precise detail that makes the story come alive. Reade is the most engaging, perhaps because she shares the author’s occupation (author Elizabeth Day is an award-winning journalist who has worked for several major British newspapers). Paradise City is most persuasive in its depiction of newspaper politics, especially the jealousies and camaraderie of the newsroom; when Esme describes how it feels when an interview starts to go her way, there is an vibrancy there rooted in personal experience. Day’s work as a journalist also informs the novel’s brisk pace and its grabbed-from-the-headlines plot points.

London is the novel’s silent fifth character, a city that here welcomes those who come to change their life for the better or simply seek new fortunes. Though Paradise City resolves a little too tidily, it is an intelligent, well-written novel of depth and heart. 

Paradise City, which opens with a quote from the Guns N’ Roses song praising the virtues of a place full of possibilities, is a compassionate but upbeat look at four interlocking lives in contemporary London. The novel is both thoughtful and witty, unafraid of tackling big subjects (sexual assault, political asylum) even as it finds joy in small human connections.

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