A sequel that should've stayed home

⭐⭐ 

I'm bummed I didn't like The Guncle Abroad more. Five years after Patrick watched his niece and nephew for the summer following their mother's death, he's back to watch the kids in Europe before their dad's wedding in Italy, with new lessons to teach the kids.

The writing just felt very clunky throughout. After a discussion with his agent about when sequels are acceptable, Patrick takes the kids around Europe for the first chunk of the book, which I was excited for; he got them Eurail passes and I was in. This wound up only meaning London (where Patrick was finishing up a film role), Paris, Salzburg, and Venice and it felt like they had maybe a day in each place; I didn't feel the multiple weeks they traveled. I wanted more! And there were odd little travelogue segments:

Paris was known for many things, world-class museums, towering monuments and cathedrals from every era that were renowned the world over. The highest-class gastronomy in dimly lit restaurants and robust coffee on the sun-dappled terraces of the city's many cafes. History and architecture, not to mention fashion: Chanel, Saint Laurent, Vuitton, Dior, Hermes. The city was famous for its pastry and macarons in sumptuous colors and the mellifluous sound of street buskers with big instruments and even bigger dreams. Catacombs, parks, bridges, romance, greenery, strolls along the River Seine--Paris had it all.. (pp. 70-71)

As they approached the city, Livia explained that Milan was the fashion capital of Italy, if not the world, and had been since the 1960s when Vogue Italia chose it as the location for their headquarters. The region already had a rich history of producing its own textiles, but after Vogue landed, brands such as Dolce & Gabbana, Armani, Moschino, Valentino, and Versace all coalesced to make Milan their home, too. The city was an amalgamation of past and present, set against the breathtaking natural backdrop of the Italian Alps. The third largest church in the world, the stunning Duomo de Milano, shared the skyline with modern skyscrapers making the whole city a contrast, and yet seamlessly, perfectly, stylishly itself. Much like fashion. Hard lines and thick textiles merged to create the most feminine beauty, while soft fabrics draped in goddess-like ways could make a woman feel like the most powerful warrior. (p. 185)

Like, I'm not against reading books to imagine I'm somewhere else. Maybe I could handle these more if the characters spent more time in the cities Rowley is describing. But mostly it doesn't work because the characters themselves aren't responding to it. There's a great moment in Paris where they go up to Sacre Coeur and look over the city and it's fantastic. That's all that's needed! I don't need flowery prose about a city; just give me those moments with the characters.

That said, I actually don't know that I wound up wanting to spend more time with Patrick. He grated a bit in the first book, but here it was just in overdrive, possibly because there wasn't really anyone around to combat it. Getting a book from entirely his point of view made me realize I didn't particularly like him. I also found his "rivalry" with Palmina, the "launt" (lesbian aunt) dumb. (At least he knew it was immature, but that didn't stop it from being a recurring theme.)

I thought the plotline with the kids could've been handled better. They're understandably nervous about their father getting married, particularly Maisie, who's 14. That's a rough time to be dealing with that kind of life change. So while I was annoyed with her at times, I understood her. What I didn't understand is how Patrick handled (or didn't) her concerns. The idea was there, but it didn't really click for me and I got increasingly frustrated.

And the ending was super drawn out. It just. kept. going.

Ultimately, it seems a lot of people enjoyed this book a lot, which is great! I should've given it a skip, though.

Singing the song of angry men

I bought tickets for Les Mis at the Kennedy Center last August. I missed it the last time it came through DC; I had put off getting tickets, foolishly assuming they'd be available closer to when it got to town. Pretty much the entire run was sold out, which caught me off guard; obviously I love Les Mis (it's the best!), but I didn't realize how popular it still is. Little did I know the controversy there would be over this run.

There's been a decent amount of discussion of Trump's affection for Les Mis (and Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals), with people wondering (validly) how he could possibly miss, you know, the point of the show. People tend to focus on the plot of the student uprising of 1832. Trump and his followers clearly see themselves as being analogous to the students and critics are understandably like, "???" 

In thinking about the lyrics to the show, though, it's noticeable that we don't get a lot about what exactly the students are rising against. There's a reference to Lamarque ("the people's man") speaking "for the people here below." The students are rising against the government, fighting the army. Knowing what we know about Victor Hugo, we know who he would--and wouldn't--support in today's politics. But Trump's supporters seem themselves as the downtrodden. I'm not surprised that they think Enjolras is on their side. Politico has a really interesting article about all this.

Josh Davis and Nick Cartell. Photo by Matt Murphy.

But what I want to focus on is the rest of the show. Because that is what I think about when I have the "How can Trump not understand this show?!" thought. Les Mis is about a man who breaks the law for a good reason and then breaks parole and goes on to lead an exemplary life, all the while being chased by someone whose rigid view of the world doesn't allow him to see nuance in people. Javert kills himself because he cannot reconcile a world where a criminal is actually a good person. 

The way the government is functioning right now is all black-and-white thinking. It's Javert. Something is Good or it is Bad and no further thought is needed. I'd say the overarching theme of Les Misérables is the importance of love ("And remember the truth that once was spoken: To love another person is to see the face of God") and compassion ("You must use this precious silver to become an honest man"), and then the fight against social injustice. And that is what the Trump administration is missing.

Also, Trump is clearly Thenardier, the most morally repugnant character in the story.

I am more of a succulent keeper

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

An excellent book, following the life of Rosalie Iron Wing, a Dakhota woman. Raised by her father in a cabin in Minnesota, she winds up with a white foster family when he suddenly dies. The book is largely her story, periodically interspersed with that of her friend Gaby Makespeace and Marie Blackbird, forced away from her home in the 1860s.

I tend to not necessarily do well with more contemplative books and I was a bit concerned, because a bunch of the book is Rosalie alone in a cabin, coming to terms with the grief over her husband and father and family she never had. And as the title suggests, the importance of seeds and growing and connection to the land is intrinsic to the story, and I...do not have a green thumb, nor particularly have ever felt that connection. However, Wilson manages to balance the book's reflection with plot in a way that hit the sweet spot for me.

Rosalie takes a bit to warm up to (I think having those chapters from Gaby's perspective were key), but throughout the book, you get to know her and her story and she grew on me. The book references the horror of the Indian Boarding Schools, but they're not a focus, though their impact is felt through the generations. Wilson deftly handled the tension between Rosalie and her husband about how to farm; while aching for Rosalie and her attachment to the land and the river, Wilson doesn't write off John's thoughts completely (though their story was so depressing; I was saddened at the progression of their marriage but appreciate its journey).

Before reading this (and yes, I know, but I haven't read Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants), I would've scoffed a bit at the idea of a seed keeper and the importance of seeds, even while being intrigued by the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. After? I understand it much more.

Highly recommend. (And then you should go watch Reservation Dogs if you haven't already.)

Favorite quotes:

He said forgetting was easy. It's the remembering that wears you down. (p. 21)

"Did we--did I--make the right decisions about Thomas? I only wanted the best for him. More than I had."
I was silent. I had certainly asked myself the same question about Thomas. As parents, how do any of us answer it? Especially when we struggle with our own challenges, not realizing when we're young how much the past has shaped us, how we carry our parents' sorrow and that of the generations that came before them? (p. 223)

 

And no one heard at all not even the chair

⭐⭐⭐ 

Dave Barry's memoir was tough to rate. I grew up reading Dave Barry. I owned many of his books (I still own four, and that was a vast paring-down) and read them many, many times. I got to interview him when I did a story about Gene Weingarten for a writing class and it was an absolute thrill for me. (He was lovely, and in retrospect I appreciate that he took the time to talk to me, someone who was just doing a class assignment, not even something that would be published.) He liberally quotes from his own material throughout this book and I recognized a lot of it.

That both is and isn't a complaint, but it did ultimately bump this from a 3.5 to a 3. This book is called a memoir. We get chapters on his family (which is genuinely illuminating) and education, but a lot of the book covers his career. I liked some of the more behind-the-scenes stuff when he discussed his writing, particularly about how in the 1980s, a humor journalist could, for example, rent a helicopter for a few hours in New York to get a particular photo--without prior approval. A lot of the names are familiar to me, many because they eventually wound up at The Washington Post and getting glimpses into the logistics of his work was enjoyable. The story of him finding out he won the Pulitzer was adorable. And while I vaguely knew about his early, pre-humor column career, I enjoyed learning more.

That said, I felt like reasonably large chunks of this were rehashes of things that he wrote about over the years. The kinds of stories he wrote, the things his readers were passionate about (did I wind up with the Neil Diamond song "I Am, I Said" in my head? I did), some highlights over the years. I mean, true, I didn't know about his involvement in the popularization of Talk Like a Pirate Day (though I'm not particularly surprised by it). But a lot of the book felt almost like an annotated greatest hits to me.

Which I'm honestly not totally against! Like I said, I read a LOT of his stuff growing up and it was nostalgic to re-read. I had forgotten about Judi (who I believe he referred to as his research department), and was delighted when he mentioned Earnest (his dog) and Zippy (his small back-up dog). I always loved his dog columns. And his columns about book tours, which he mentions here. He also does discuss his post-column career of writing fiction, including a fun story about a trip to Russia.

I didn't love his chapter on politics. I did like the first part of the chapter, where he wrote about being sent to cover primaries and conventions and what the actual experience was like for him and other journalists. But once he got into the specific elections...pass. Particularly his concluding belief that the problem is that journalists were too hard on Trump (who, for the record, he does not like); he's one of those who thinks that the media leaned too anti-Trump and it turned people off. He does mention the other argument--namely, that journalists who were anti-Trump went too easy on him in an attempt to appear fair, which firmly is where I land--but doesn't think it. And honestly, I didn't want or need any discussion of Trump in this book.

What I did want was more insight into Barry's actual life. Early in the book, after the chapter on school, he mentions getting married, then says he's been married three times, takes the blame for his divorces, and then says that he's not going to talk about his marriages. He mentions briefly the birth of his son Rob (and gave a life update on him, which I appreciated, having read a bunch about him growing up), but his personal life is basically not a part of this memoir at all. He mentions things like moving and picking job offers and there's just nothing about what anything meant for him as a person. We get a little insight into his decision to retire from his weekly column, but that's about it. I kind of get it, but also, I spent years reading about his wife Beth, so I was bummed. I don't need the sordid details, but just more about his non-work life.

It comes down to me wanting this to include more of Dave Barry, the person, and less Dave Barry, the humor columnist. Still, if you're a fan of his, you'll enjoy this walk down memory lane.

Better and worse and better and worse

I've realized as I've gotten older that one of the reasons I enjoy history is that I find it comforting. Recently, reading about the turbulence of the late 1960s and early 1970s has been reassuring to me. I'm not saying that our Current Circumstances are better than they were then--they're definitely not--but the fact that the country managed to recover to some semblance of normalcy has helped keep me sane. (I try to ignore that it also brought us Ronald Reagan.)

I know very little about Hunter S. Thompson. I never read nor saw Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas; all I could tell you, basically, is that he was a writer, a counterculture figure who used a lot of drugs, and that I recognized his signature look. So I wasn't particularly looking forward to The Untitled Unauthorized Hunter S. Thompson Musical at Signature Theatre.

The play follows Hunter (Eric William Morris) as he grows up, becomes a writer, marries Sandy (Tatiana Wechsler), pioneers Gonzo journalism, gets famous, feuds with Richard Nixon (George Abud), and eventually has his life catch up with him. 

The cast of The Untitled Unauthorized Hunter S. Thompson Musical. 
(c) Daniel Rader

My takeaway is that I loved the show but have no desire to read this man's writing. He himself comes across as an asshole. But the story is told so well, the music is great, the staging is compelling, and the acting is fantastic. (My standout is George Salazar, who plays Oscar [the guy he traveled with in Fear and Loathing] among other characters. His "Song of the Brown Buffalo" is fabulous and my eyes were always drawn to him.) (My backup standout is Abud as Nixon. He looks nothing like Nixon but still manages to convey Nixon in a way that's not just a Nixon imitation.) Hunter S. Thompson the person does not seem like someone I could handle; as a character, he's fascinating.

But what hooked me is Thompson's convictions about the country and the direction of the country. So much of the play hits home in 2025--the desire for a better country, where people have the support they need and can love who they want and can just be who they want to be. Knowing that these people tried in the 60s and didn't succeed...what could this world look like?

Joe Iconis, who did the music and lyrics, said in an interview in the production's program, "I made it my mission to get to the heart of the issues that have plagued our nation for the last ten, twenty, thirty, one-hundred years. The more I pulled my focus out, the more I realized that no matter the specifics of the latest atrocity, we'd been there before." 

The song that will stick with me is "Wavesong," the Act One closer:

They say the universe arcs toward justice

I call bullshit on that

No, the universe moves in cycles

It will surge then curtail

You submerge or you sail

Tide is high and then it's not

Angels fly high and then they're shot

It gets better and worse and better and worse and better

It gets better and worse and better and worse

Face the storm and be brave

And sail toward the next wave

(Lyrics by Joe Iconis)

I also loved how the show handled writing. Hunter was hooked on great writing as a child; he retyped The Great Gatsby so he would know how it felt to write those sentences. We see his activism and his passion and his drug usage, but the show is also about legacy, and for Hunter S. Thompson, his legacy is his writing and how that writing continues to affect people today, 20 years after his death.

The legacy of Aldo Kelrast lives

Back when I got The Washington Post daily, one thing I did every day, even if I didn't glance at the majority of the paper, was read the comic strips. Back in ye olden days, I started reading The Comics Curmudgeon, which is still going strong and still a great read. Josh introduced me to a number of comic strips and frequently covers the somehow still-ongoing legacy strips that are comic strip soap operas. I ignore most of them, but for some reason have become engrossed by Mary Worth.

Mary Worth is a classic soap opera. Storylines are bonkers and also take forever. For example, it's wrapping up a storyline that began in early March. The strip is set in Florida, I think; Mary Worth is an older lady lives in a condo complex called Charterstone and storylines mostly revolve around hijinks of the other residents; she usually pops up to give advice. Sometimes the storyline revolves around her (most famously in the days of her stalker Aldo Kelrast [yes, his last name is an anagram of "stalker"]), but usually not. The sad sack who frequently takes the spotlight is Wilbur Weston--balding, overweight, living alone with a fish, but somehow also the writer of an advice column called "Ask Wendy." His love life often provides fodder for the strip. He's kind of awful, but still manages to get a lot of girlfriends, so kudos to you, Wilbur!

In this current storyline, Wilbur recently took a vacation to Cancun, where he found a ladyfriend named Belle. Belle then shows up at Wilbur's doorstep and promptly tries to kill Wilbur's daughter Dawn, eat Wilbur's fish Willa, and then try to kill Wilbur and Dawn after Wilbur got upset at the potential fish-eating. Wilbur and Dawn were saved at the last moment when Belle's brother shows up to take her away, saying she's gone off her meds. The best part of this is that her brother looks exactly like Wilbur, just slightly taller and slightly thinner. It's amazing. Dawn comments on it, but...that's it. Dawn and Wilbur then spend a week consoling each other (Dawn is just coming out of a brief abusive relationship herself). 

I'm not sure if other legacy comics strips go this hard. But there are enough storylines like this in Mary Worth that even now, long after giving up my daily Washington Post, after giving up my weekly Post as well, I will invariably go to ComicsKingdom.com to see what's going on. I never really watched soap operas growing up, other than a couple seasons of Sisters, if that counts. I guess this is how I make up for it. A guilty pleasure? Sure. I love that it's still being made in the year of our Lord 2025.

If you want a really deep dive into this, including an interview with Mary Worth's current writer and artist, you need to check out this entry on The Comics Journal. 

“I do find that readers seems to enjoy the... wackier stories more?” [writer Karen] Moy told me. “I think Wilbur is a character that readers both love and hate. He’s kind of like George Costanza in Seinfeld, where readers are fascinated by him, but they can’t stand him. Some readers said that they would like to see him killed off three times a year. What fascinates people about this particular story is just Wilbur himself.” 

I can't argue with that, honestly.

New Frankenstein headcanon activated

It's been years since I read Frankenstein; I had only vague memories of the plot, so when I went to Shakespeare Theatre's production last night, I couldn't remember what was in the original and what wasn't. Emily Burns's adaptation takes liberties, but in the best of ways.

Burns, who also directed, centers the story on the relationship between Victor Frankenstein (Nick Westrate) and his fiancée/adopted sister Elizabeth (Rebecca S'Manga Frank) and yes, the show does acknowledge the weirdness of that combination of relationships. If you thought Victor sucked before, wait until you experience him here. The story of Frankenstein and his creature is so embedded in our culture that the script pretty much assumes you at least know the basics, that is, that Victor Frankenstein has created a creature and brought him to life (which is briefly shown as the play begins). The play starts the night before Victor and Elizabeth's wedding. She's having doubts; Victor is acting very strange about what he was doing at school. 

Rebecca S'Manga Frank and Nick Westrate in Frankenstein. Courtesy Shakespeare Theatre.

I was thinking a lot about family throughout the play, which starts with a voiceover from the Creature (José Espinosa) alluding to this. What makes someone family? Can that change? What's it like to have that love...and not have it? To have it given to someone else when you think it should be yours?

The other theme, for me, was trust and responsibility. It's the basis of the tension between Elizabeth and Victor. She's about to marry him, but doesn't believe his reasons for falling off the grid at school. His constant evasiveness, even at times when he says he's telling the truth, would make even audience members who don't know the story suspect him. Their history, of colors, colors the relationship—Elizabeth the preferred child, whose sickness led to the death of their mother. Does Victor blame her and is taking it out on her?

The script is written in the modern vernacular and the actors were consistently excellent. What really blew me away was the mood—the lighting and sound design fantastically ratcheted up tension throughout the evening. There were periods of quick cuts, with just a change in lighting design to illustrate two very different scenes. 

The play ended. The stage went to black. And it was one of those performances where the audience just continued to sit silent, mesmerized, until the actors came out for their bows. Very powerful. Highly recommend for anyone in the DC area, and is my new headcanon for the story.

Tonys 2025 thoughts

I don't really watch awards show very much anymore. At some point I stopped going to the movies, even watching movies at home less. And while I certainly do still watch television, a lot of what I watch isn't really in the conversation when it comes to awards. And I was never enough into music to want to watch the Grammys. But the Tonys? I will forever watch and have opinions on the Tonys. Have I seen any of the nominated shows? I have not. But I still have thoughts.

Things I loved:

• The Hamilton performance. You should all be grateful this blog was dormant when I went through my Hamilton obsession, because let me tell you, it was all-encompassing. A musical about the Founding Fathers from Lin-Manuel Miranda, whose In the Heights I loved? Yes please! The reunion of the OBC was fabulous and brought my affection right back. Lin seemed a bit nervous in his part of "My Shot," but Daveed kicking ass on "Guns and Ships" was delightful. 
• OK, pretty much all the performances. I wish the sound were better so I could've understood Operation Mincemeat a bit more (how I want to see that show!), but overall, I was very impressed all around. This really was a good season, and I know there were shows missing. 
• AUDRA. Holy crap. Was her voice on point? It was not. Was I still completely riveted, to the point that my husband was staring at me oddly? I was. 
• Cole Escola's tribute to Bernadette Peters. I don't have much interest in Oh Mary! (maybe someday), but they seem delightful and looked amazing.
• Having Brian Stokes Mitchell do the voiceovers. I love him so much. His voice is magic. It he isn't on stage singing "This Nearly Was Mine," at least we heard his dulcet tones throughout the night. 
• Sara Bareilles and Cynthia Erivo's duet for In Memoriam. Their voices together were just absolutely lovely. And Cynthia holding Sara after Gavin Creel appeared on the board...tears. Just devastating.
• Cynthia Erivo's bit about Jonathan Groff (though I didn't need the Lincoln joke told in the same segment; it was just unoriginal!).
• Natalie Venetia Belcon's win for Supporting Actress in a musical for Buena Vista Social Club. The show looks fun, and I saw her as Gary Coleman in Avenue Q! 
• Michael Arden's "If there are any queer people watching tonight..." 

Things that were meh: 

• I liked the concept of the opening number; nobody can argue with Cynthia Erivo's voice. But it just...did nothing for me. That's due, in part, to the troubles the broadcast was having with sound; part of my issue is that I don't think I picked up what she was saying. But also, I want a lot of dancing with my Tonys openers. That's just how I roll. Obligatory link to The Best Tonys Opener Ever:
• I thought I'd like the Pirates! performance more than I did. I love David Hyde Pierce and Ramin Karimloo and have heard nothing but good things about Jinx Monsoon. But it just didn't hold my attention. 
• The Death Becomes Her performance was so fun, but I was bummed I didn't get to see Jennifer Simard perform after all I've heard about her. But still...Megan Hilty.
• Cynthia Erivo's bit with Oprah and the car. 

Things I didn't like:

• Nicole Scherzinger's performance/win. And really the concept for the Sunset Blvd. revival. Nothing I've seen about that makes me want to see it; from what I've read, it's extremely polarizing. Her voice? Fab. Holding that note at the end? Impressive. Otherwise? No. Pass.
• Having to miss the first hour of the show because I don't have whatever random streamer was airing them. I want to see those awards! I want to see Harvey Fierstein and Celia Keenan-Bolger honored!
• The inconsistency of people being played off during their acceptance speeches (though I loved the song used for it). 

 

Scandanavian thriller gets the job done

⭐⭐⭐

I'm not huge into mysteries, but enjoyed The Guest List and The Bachelorette Party by Camilla Sten seemed to be in a similar vein...and it's always good to branch out a little.

In 2012, four friends went to Isle Blind for their annual reunion weekend. They never returned. Authorities determined it was a boat accident, but we know Matilda and her three friends were murdered (since the book literally starts with them being murdered). Ten years later, disgraced true crime podcaster Tessa is headed to a new health retreat/hotel on the island with five friends for a bachelorette weekend, hosted by Irene, Matilda's sister. Tessa is determined to find out what happened to the Nacka Four ten years ago.

I found the book to be very well plotted. The action is mostly set in 2022, from Tessa's POV, with occasional jumps to Matilda in 2012. There were, I think, too many friends on the 2022 trip to keep them all straight, though just doing another four women would be troublesome, plot-wise. I quite liked Tessa's wrestling of a recent career implosion; I honestly could've done with more time spent with Tessa's podcast history. The ending made sense, though was a bit drawn-out for me and the ultimate perpetrator was reasonably obvious, even if motivations were not, so that was satisfying.

It does get all the bonus points for this passage, which occurs when Tessa gets up for early yoga at the bachelorette:

I don't believe there are people who genuinely like the taste of green juice and kombucha, who take joy in getting up at five in the morning, or who get their kicks from sweating out made-up toxins by exercising in saunas. I think runner's high is a myth and sunrise yoga is a scam, and I'd pay the entire remaining balance in my account to go back to sleep. (Chapter 13)

Ultimately, an enjoyable-enough read. Other reviews indicate that Sten's other books were better, so I might check those out.

Thanks to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press/Minotaur Books for providing a review copy in exchange for my honest thoughts.

Heavy on Martha's Vineyard, lighter on the beach and book club

⭐⭐⭐  

The Martha's Vineyard Beach and Book Club by Martha Hall Kelly is a good-enough book, set in Martha's Vineyard, mostly in 1942. There's a framing device of a character we don't spend enough time with to care about being told the story in 2016, and the book is inspired by the author's own family history on the island, which makes me feel slightly bad about not enjoying the book more.

My husband and I visited Martha's Vineyard on our honeymoon a few years ago and I quite enjoyed it, so I was interested in this book. The author's research shines and I loved seeing the world of 1942 on the island. Soldiers were stationed there, using it as training grounds for a future amphibious assault, while German U-boats lurked just off-shore. Nods are made to rationing, but there's an awful lot of baking going on. Still, wartime Martha's Vineyard truly comes to life.

There's a lovely story of found family; the book centers on Briar and Cadence Smith, who live with the grandmother on a farm up-island. Their brother Tom has just shipped off, but his girlfriend Bess is staying at the farm as well. Briar is 16 and obsessed with the details of the war; Cadence, 19, works at a beach club and dreams of working in publishing in New York. Kelly throws a bunch of plot into the book--a possible spy! Bess's horrible mother! Gram's poor health! An arrogant British officer! A dead German neighbor! Briar's reputation as "Briar the Liar"! Honestly, I never warmed to Briar; I would've appreciated more development there about how she became interested in war and ship models and things. I liked parts of Cadence's romance, but it felt rushed. Honestly, a lot of my problems with the book boil down to it being so crammed that nothing had room to breathe. Even the titular book club barely factored into the story--it was mostly just the main characters, who already live together, sitting around, talking. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society this isn't.

Also, on a more nit-picky note, the chapters almost entirely alternate between Briar and Cadence (with a very very occasional one from Mari in 2016). The chapters are labeled, which is helpful, but they're also all labeled with 1942. At first I assumed this meant that we'd be bopping around in time, but that wasn't the case at all; the action of the book takes place over maybe a month. We don't need the 1942 for all those chapters.

Ultimately, there are aspects of this book that are really well done. It would make for a decent beach read--particularly if you're on Martha's Vineyard.

Thank you to Netgalley and Ballantine for the free copy in exchange for my honest opinion.