Book Review: The Secret of Markie Beach by Hannah Grieve

By Dylan Curran

“The privilege of a happy childhood in a small town is that you grow up with an innate sense of security . . . If you were lucky it could get downright boring. All that changed in one summer.”

—The Secret of Markie Beach 

With this strong debut, author Hannah Grieve weaves an intricate and carefully layered tale full of twists and turns set in the fictional town of Markie. Reminiscent of southern Ontario’s very own beaches, hidden coves, and local histories, this novel blends the familiar gossip of small towns with a hint of mystery. Who are the Sunshine Girls and how are they connected to the disappearance of seven girls over a decade ago? And what does it mean for our main character, eighteen-year-old Alana, when the clues slowly start hitting too close to home? Grieve is careful to not reveal too much at once—as we flip eagerly to the next page we realize the genius in her writing. The breadcrumbs she has left us makes us hungry for more. I found myself devouring the writing in just a few sittings. With a host of characters who at once comfort and complicate their motives, there is a hesitancy to trust anyone completely. One can never be too sure of any character’s next step. It is for this reason that even until the last few chapters of the novel readers continue to revisit their hypothesis, gathering clues from each subtle crooked smile, pregnant pause, and stolen glance.

From the marina to the hidden cabin in the woods, Grieve paints a vivid picture of the not-so-innocent Markie and its residents. A few of my favourites are Jamie and Eric. The former is a spunky, forthright, and intuitive thinker who doubles as Alana’s best friend. In the novel we frequently find ourselves laughing at her quick wit and unfiltered opinions. As the narrator remarks, “Jamie would deny this, but she was popular in high school. It was ironic because she really disliked most people, except for me.” A close second is the alluring and somewhat intimidating Eric. Although we are warned early on that he is an outsider, new to Markie, there is something magnetic about his personality that keeps us (and Alana) coming back for more. You’ll have to read the book to see why—no spoilers here! A few honourable mentions are Nina, Ben, and Addie, whose backstories are carefully interwoven into the main storyline and make for compelling stories about friendship, betrayal, and redemption.

The rich and diligent attention to detail in this novel is one of its star qualities. Grieve is certainly an emerging Canadian author to look out for, especially for readers with a penchant for character-driven writing with crisp dialogue. I felt like a fly on the wall. Every new development launched a whole round of questions. While guided by Alana’s inner monologue, many of the plot points reveal just how unreliable it can be to only trust what you know. Readers will need to look just outside of their comfort zones to reveal the truth about Markie and the Sunshine Girls.

Book Review: Insignificance by James Clammer

By Dylan Curran

In this Paul Auster-meets-Dennis Lehane literary thriller, readers will find themselves spellbound by a day in the life of “the man Joseph” and his exhilarating—yet terrifying—family history. Compromised by his intrusive thoughts, he wanders off the job site only to come face to face with the one person to blame for all of his troubles, his son. Diagnosed with Capgras Syndrome, Joseph’s son, Edward, spiraled past the point of no return when he attempted to dispose of his own mother (and Joseph’s wife), claiming that she was an imposter only posing as his mother dearest. Although this is revealed to us in the early pages of the book (no spoilers here!) what moves the plot forward is the depth of the consequences that this has had on each of its characters and the lengths they will go to rid themselves of the trauma that has stained their good memories together. From eliminating all photographs of Edward to hospital recoveries and new-found faith, these coping mechanisms all reveal themselves to be less than substantive.

In this Ulysses-like take on the everyday working man fraught with bouts of depressive episodes, readers will be immersed in the telltale signs of Joseph’s over-exhaustion and burnout. What lingers long after one turns the last page is an ominous feeling of uncertainty. How sure can we be that this was not all just a fever dream from a particularly unfortunate individual? The literary calibre and craftsmanship is evident in Clammer’s writing, with a particular gift at setting the scene. One can situate themselves almost too accurately in the claustrophobic spaces between the drain pipes, feel the uncomfortable silence that fills the car ride home or the unsettling sexual tension between “the man Joseph” and his nearly-too-nice family friend Amanda Margaret.

A quiet and calculated novel, Insignificance will have your mind reeling as you eagerly comb your way through its horrors, humanity, and humour even past the last page.

Thank you to Coach House Books for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!

Book Review: Pure Colour by Sheila Heti

By Dylan Curran

From the author of Motherhood comes Pure Colour, a daring and unique interpretation of today’s world. Or, as proposed in the opening chapter, the life of those navigating the trials and tribulations of “the first draft of creation.” Part fiction, part philosophy, this book by Shelia Heti invites us to examine the lives of three types of people: those born from the egg of the bird, those born from the egg of the fish, and those born from the egg of the bear. Although initially these ideas are met with confusion (c’mon, bears don’t lay eggs!) it lends itself to larger-than-life or stranger-than-fiction metaphors where egg of the bird individuals are synonymous with those interested in beauty, art, harmony and meaning; egg of the fish are concerned with community and fairness for all; egg of the bear those who dedicate themselves wholly to love and protect those closest to them. All three types of people are necessary and none is more important than the other. Heti posits that it is this togetherness that makes for fascinating richness in life. Not to be confused as a speculative fiction or fantasy, these classifications are merely a means of defining personalities and are not literal or physiological by any means.

Throughout the book we follow Mira—our egg of the bird character—as she finds herself falling for Annie, a strong-willed, selfless caregiver and friend born from the egg of the fish. Stolen kisses, longing glances and unrequited love make for an interesting look at the challenges that face most couples. Readers at times will see themselves in both characters. With each charge or emotion, sting of heartbreak or leap of joy, the narrative takes a twist and forces us to reimagine our own lives through the lenses of these different personality types. Amid all of this is another layer to the story. Mira documents the grief she feels following the passing of her father, a man wholeheartedly and without a doubt born egg of the bear. Mira fears that she has caused him pain throughout his life, unable to love him to the same degree that she knows he has loved her. Although we, as the reader, know that she has no need to seek forgiveness or else accept this guilt, it becomes evident that Mira herself is conflicted. We can recognize the unconditional paternal love that Mira’s father has for her, but it will take her most of the book to reconcile with these feelings.

Sheila Heti explores grief and love—the human experience in essence—with such poise and cleverness. Within even the most absurd constructs of the imagination (like waking up one day trapped within a leaf) we find ourselves weeping as the truth of her words envelop us, comfort us, and then encourage us to turn the page. Immersed in the urgency of climate change and existential crises, readers will find solace and answers to questions they didn’t realize they had in the first place. Heti’s writing is without question one of the most important works of our generation.

Thank you to Knopf Canada for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.

Book Review: Letters to Amelia by Lindsay Zier-Vogel

By Dylan Curran

Meet Grace, a 30-year-old library tech with a knack for overthinking, love of The Office, and a special place in her heart for lost love letters. 

Navigating the grief of her recent breakup, Grace is met with the daunting task of collecting the newly discovered correspondence between Amelia Earhart and her secret lover. As readers uncover the twists and turns of their relationship, what starts to compel us is not the scandal of the affair but the unmistakable courage and dedication Earhart had to her craft. A bold and unapologetic character, Earhart’s letters stir something deeper within Grace. Despite the tumultuous ups and downs of Grace’s post-breakup life (stabilized mostly through the over-consumption of peanut butter sandwiches), she comes to recognize her own worth. As she regains her own footing by reconnecting with her friends, family, and co-workers, the story opens up to a whole new world for Grace to explore.  

Blending epistolary and historical fiction is no easy task. The writing in this book is clever, well-thought-out with allusions to real events but playful enough to embellish some of the lore surrounding Earhart and her life (and disappearance). While the novel begins with Grace merely reading the correspondence, she quickly finds comfort and friendship within these bubbly and loose writings. Readers will revel in the honesty and vulnerability that Grace exudes in her letters to Earhart, a conversation seemingly easier on paper than it is in her day-to-day life. There is a palpable shyness that echoes in each of Grace’s interactions. Even her closest friends are forced to wait until the moment is right for her secrets to be shared. I think we are all a little bit like Grace—but we still need our daily dose of Jennas, Carolyns, and Jamies in our lives. 

Letters to Amelia will be well-loved by readers who already enjoy the works of Amy Jones, Karma Brown or Sonya Lalli. Its characters and world-building resonate with Canadian culture and the complexities of modern-day romance in a unique and uplifting way. Amid a pandemic, this is an especially important read. People are craving escapism—with beautiful attention to detail, Zier-Vogel captures intimate moments in faraway places that sweep you away from your living rooms and into the depths of your imagination. From Newfoundland to Saskatchewan, The Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library to Howland Island, readers will find adventure in every nook. While one expects Earhart to be leading the travels, Grace is the one to guide us through Trespasser, wartime Toronto, and Washington, D.C. This book is the perfect read to combat the lockdown blues and a reminder to find your passion, no matter your circumstances. 

Thank you to Book*hug Press for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review! 

Book Review: My Body in Pieces by Marie-Noëlle Hébert

By Dylan Curran

Content warning: eating disorders 

My Body in Pieces is an impressive collection of illustrations that lend themselves to thought-provoking ideas on self-worth and the impact of everyday actions. This was a graphic novel that made me feel seen and heard. The anxieties embedded within its pages linger, slowly fading into nostalgias of worries we've all had: Do I look good in this? How can I be thinner? When will all these workouts start to show results?

As a reader, you feel yourself grow weary of Hébert’s choices. You know that these early decisions are hurting her—her friends, her family, her body. But you can't stop her. And you can't stop yourself from reading, from slipping into the familiarity of her actions.  

You feed yourself on her mistakes. Eagerly, you take another bite, devour the book whole. 

An examination of Hébert’s journey, the novel is told in evocative black and white, each frame reminiscent of family photo albums or photo essays. Every emotion in its pages is expressed with such certainty and depth that we feel ourselves leak into the pages and become embedded in these memories. As readers, we are shaped by the words "each day I focus on finding fault with my body, one piece at a time...I am good at it." 

The clarity of moments sketched in fragile charcoal strokes emphasizes the contrast of other characters' seemingly insignificant suggestions that have a huge toll on Hébert’s self-esteem. She is all too conscious of her image, ever reminded of her (self-perceived) failures, forever plagued by the reflection in the mirror. But what Hébert does not see, we as readers do: the love that follows her throughout the book. We catch glimpses in the wordless frames of Ganache, of Matilda, and even between family members. There is a tentative tenderness in each of these conversations. But, ultimately, we cannot deny that it is a genuine depiction of body dysmorphia, anti-fatness, and eating disorders. An all too familiar life for a woman who struggles to see the beauty within herself.  

Once layered in self-hatred, Hébert slowly polishes the pieces of herself through therapy and begins to reveal new aspects of herself: a friend, a daughter, an artist. 

We cheer for her in the final pages, revel in the positive changes she has made for herself. We too share an ice cream with a smile on our face. 

A note on the impressive task of translating a graphic novel: Shelley Tanaka has done wonders to translate the text from French to English, and in doing so, has conveyed a level of anxiety one assumes is found murmured throughout the original text. Tanaka effortlessly manipulates language to form swift, short snippets that flow between each frame. In this way, the translation blends seamlessly with the original graphics (illustrations by the author herself, Marie-Noëlle Hébert). Overall, My Body in Pieces is a striking debut and an impressive graphic novel that deserves a home on your shelf. 

Thank you to Groundwood Books for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review! 

Book Review: Little Fish by Casey Plett

By Dylan Curran

“No she wasn’t any happier, no she didn’t feel any more like a real girl. But she was calmer now, like a small buzzing part of her brain had been turned off, and was now forever at rest.” So explains Wendy, our main character in Casey Plett’s Little Fish. Affectionately called “Wendy-burger” by her roommate, she is a fierce, compassionate, and genuine character that breathes life into the novel.

Little Fish is a humble and thought-provoking look at the trans community in Canada. It is no surprise that it has been decorated by so many awards (Amazon Canada First Novel Award, Lambda Literary Award, and Firecracker Award for Fiction, to name a few). As we follow Wendy throughout her stumbles and triumphs, we begin to unravel the intricacies of the system that has made it its mission to create barrier upon barrier for the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. 

Although the book is set in Winnipeg (i.e., “Winterpeg”) we find ourselves making connections to other cities and small towns dotted around the country. From Mennonites to sex workers and everyone in between, we meet a plethora of rich characters, each with their own voice. We mourn with Wendy. We rage with her. We celebrate with her. And we definitely take another shot of vodka with her! 

While there are sad moments throughout the novel, there are also eclipses of happiness—pure joy that leaves the reader with a genuine smile on their face. I couldn’t help but feel for characters like Lila; we ache with the same twinges of loss and despair. But it is Plett’s focus on relationships that guides us through our grief, with dialogue that lends itself well to the delicacy of the subject matter. We find ourselves yearning for those same moments of intimacy and friendships that occur in the novel.  

I was touched by the careful tenderness exchanged between father and daughter. When Wendy visits Ben we immediately feel the wholesomeness of his unconditional love for his daughter— the easiness of it, the agility. By extension, you too feel loved. It is a stark difference between the narratives we are expected to believe about 2SLGBTQIA+ folks being ostracized from their loved ones. We need more books that detail these relationships, ones without the strife of coming out and being tossed away. Plett presents us with hope, futility, and love. 

My favourite parts of this novel centre around Wendy’s inner dialogue. The honesty of her doubts and the way she deals with them forced me to take a look at my own life. How should I be examining this moment? What is this snippet of time contributing to the whole of my experience? 

I want to leave you with a quote from the book that replayed in my mind long after I read the last page: 

Here, here is my skin that feels like your skin, my muscles and frailties that feel like yours, the lift of your flesh something I intuitively know from my own body, inner maps that, for most of my life, I thought were purely shameful and mine alone. And here, with you, with me, for minutes, for hours, if nothing else—a line from a book Wendy couldn’t remember appeared to her in a slippery ripple of memory—If I loved you, this is how I would love.