Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, Jesse Sutanto, 2023

Rating: 3/5

I picked up Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers as a palate cleanser after some heavier, more intense reads. The quirky title and promise of a cozy mystery with a dash of humour caught my attention. I was intrigued by the premise: an elderly Chinese tea shop owner stumbling upon a dead body and taking it upon herself to solve the crime. It seemed refreshingly different from the books I’d recently read — a lighter, more playful take on the murder mystery genre. Plus, the idea of a sassy, meddling senior citizen acting as an amateur sleuth sounded like a fun twist.

One of the book’s biggest strengths is its charming protagonist. Vera Wong is a delightful character—nosy, opinionated, and utterly endearing. Her habit of dispensing unfiltered, maternal advice (and food and tea) to everyone she meets is both amusing and oddly heartwarming. The novel also shines in its depiction of found family. As Vera cozies up to the suspects — Riki, Oliver, Julia, and Sana — what begins as suspicion gradually transforms into friendship. The group’s growing bond adds warmth , making the story feel more like a character-driven drama than a whodunit. The book also offers gentle but thoughtful commentary on loneliness, immigrant experiences, and generational disconnect.

However, despite these positives, the book ultimately fell a bit flat for me, warranting a 3/5 rating. While the mystery element is what drew me in, it ended up feeling secondary to the relationships and tea-time bonding. The investigation itself is simplistic and lacks the tension or twists that make a mystery gripping. Vera’s sleuthing relies more on charm and intuition than genuine detective work, making the “solving” of the crime feel almost incidental. Additionally, the writing style, while breezy and accessible, often veers into being overly sweet and sentimental. The characters’ emotional arcs, though touching, felt predictable and saccharine, with conflicts tied up too neatly.

That said, Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers will likely appeal to many readers, especially those looking for a cozy, heartwarming read with a sprinkle of mystery. Fans of character-driven stories, particularly ones featuring quirky older protagonists, will enjoy Vera’s antics and her lovable meddling. The book’s themes of loneliness, redemption, and human connection give it a relatable emotional core. While I found the book a bit too sugary and simplistic for my taste, still, it offers a pleasant escape — like a cup of sweet, milky tea on a rainy afternoon: comforting, but not particularly memorable.

Pros: Charming protagonist, heartwarming, and gentle commentary on loneliness and connection

Cons: Simplistic mystery, predictable emotional arcs, and overly saccharine tone

Revenge of the Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell, 2024

Rating: 4/5

In “Revenge of the Tipping Point”, Malcolm Gladwell revisits the concept of social contagion he first explored in The Tipping Point (2000), but this time he does a “forensic investigation” of social epidemics, in his own words. He expands his framework from the first book by introducing concepts such as overstories — dominant cultural narratives that subtly shape public perception, super-spreaders — influential individuals or platforms that amplify ideas far beyond their natural reach, group proportions — the delicate balance of minority and majority groups that can tip social norms, and small area variations — where subtle geographical or demographic differences create unexpected behavioural shifts. 

Like many books in this genre, “Revenge of the Tipping Point” occasionally falls into the trap of stretching its premise to fill pages. Authors tackling broad sociological concepts often force-fit disparate anecdotes into a central unifying theme, and Gladwell is no exception. He frames the book around the political hearing of Purdue Pharma officials over their role in the opioid crisis, using it as a narrative anchor. Yet, his attempts to map this complex, large-scale tragedy onto his concepts of small area variation, overstories, and super-spreaders sometimes feel tenuous. While the connections are thought-provoking, they occasionally appear more speculative than substantive, as if the framework is being retrofitted to the story rather than naturally emerging from it.

Nevertheless, Revenge of the Tipping Point remains an interesting and engaging read, largely due to Gladwell’s knack for storytelling. The book is peppered with fascinating anecdotes, such as the revelation that US Ivy League colleges deliberately made their admissions process more subjective in the early 20th century to curb the disproportionate success of Jewish applicants, who were excelling in the earlier, more quantifiable system. At just around 250 pages, the book is a relatively brisk read, making it easy to breeze through despite its occasionally stretched arguments. While Gladwell’s conceptual framework may feel loosely applied at times, his ability to unearth compelling stories ensures that the book still delivers what readers expect from him: a collection of memorable vignettes wrapped in big, if sometimes wobbly, ideas.

Pros: Engaging anecdotes, short and accessible

Cons: Forced analogies

Sea of Tranquility, Emily St. John Mandel, 2022

Rating: 5/5

What struck me the most after finishing Sea of Tranquility was how much it covered in just 200 pages — spanning centuries, multiple storylines, and several themes — without ever feeling rushed or overly complex. Despite its brevity, the novel takes its time with each of its main characters, immersing the reader in their lives making their journeys feel intimate.

It is difficult to write about the book’s premise without spoiling it for readers. Suffice to say, Sea of Tranquility is a beautifully written novel that blends science fiction with human themes. The book follows multiple characters across different timelines. In 1912, Edwin St. Andrew, a young English aristocrat, is banished to Canada and stumbles upon a mysterious anomaly in the forest. In the 2200s, Olive Llewellyn, a bestselling author from a lunar colony, embarks on an Earth book tour, unaware of the eerie parallels between her novel and reality. In 2401, Gaspery-Jacques Roberts, a detective from the Night City on the Moon, is assigned to investigate a strange pattern in time that links these characters. Mandel moves fluidly between the various narratives, keeping the story brisk yet immersive, allowing readers to absorb its multiple layers without feeling overwhelmed. The novel ends satisfyingly, tying the threads of its intricate plot together — a feat that is often difficult in stories of this genre.

The book’s structure reminded me somewhat of Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, another book that I love. Like that book, Sea of Tranquility weaves together multiple timelines and perspectives, exploring the interconnectedness of human lives across centuries. However, Cloud Atlas leans more heavily on stylistic shifts between its narratives, whereas Sea of Tranquility maintains a more uniform tone. Readers who appreciate the philosophical underpinnings of Cloud Atlas but prefer a more straightforward, emotionally resonant narrative with a dash of science fiction will likely find Sea of Tranquility particularly compelling.

Pros: Elegant writing, interesting themes, easily devoured in one sitting

Cons: Light on the sci-fi mechanics

Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew, Shehan Karunatilaka, 2010

Rating: 4/5

I thoroughly enjoyed Karunatilaka's latest novel, The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida, for its zaniness and its sharp, humorous critique of Sri Lanka's political landscape in the 1980s. Given my enjoyment of his more recent work, my expectations for Chinaman, Karunatilaka's debut, were naturally high — a mix of mystery, humour, and cricket (which I follow avidly) promised a compelling read. And for the most part, the book delivers.

Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew is narrated by W.G. Karunasena, a washed-up journalist, as he embarks on a quest to uncover the truth behind the disappearance of Pradeep Mathew, an enigmatic Sri Lankan cricketer with unmatched talent. The novel weaves together cricket, mystery, and social critique, as Karunasena explores the underbelly of match-fixing and political corruption within Sri Lankan cricket. Incidentally, a chinaman is a slower delivery bowled by a left-handed bowler to deceive the batter. 

Karunatilaka’s signature humor is on full display in Chinaman, offering a sharp and farcical commentary on Sri Lankan society and the political forces shaping its cricketing world. Through Karunasena's sarcastic observations, the novel skewers the absurdities of fame, the game's politics, and widespread corruption. While the humour is biting, the book does occasionally overstay its welcome. Some sections feel repetitive, and the plot's momentum falters at times, slowing down the story's overall pace.

The novel is laden with cricket references, which may overwhelm readers unfamiliar with the sport. Although cricket plays a central role in the narrative, those with little interest or knowledge of the game may find the terminology and depth of detail challenging. However, for cricket fans or those willing to immerse themselves in the lingo, Chinaman is an engaging and witty read, well worth the effort.

Pros: Witty, novel story

Cons: Drags occasionally, requires knowledge of cricket

What I Learned about Investing from Darwin, Pulak Prasad, 2023

Rating: 3/5

As the title suggests, this books has two themes. One, a discussion of Charles Darwin’s evolutionary theories and two, the translation of those theories to good investment tips. These are two areas that Prasad has expertise in. Accordingly, he prefaces each chapter with a quote from Darwins’s Origin of Species and and one from Warren Buffett’s many letters to his shareholders.

Let’s start with the first theme. Prasad is a seasoned investor in Indian equities with an impressive track record. His firm, Nalanda, achieved a 20% annualized return on its first fund over 15 years, compared to 11% for the benchmark index. This means $1 invested in the fund grew to $14, versus just $4 in the index—a remarkable feat. However, I found some of his views debatable. For instance, Prasad argues that businesses in conglomerates don’t make good investments, yet examples like TCS and Trent from the Tata group tell a different story — they are up 10 times and 21 times in the same period and Trent is up a further 5 times since then. There is also some inconsistency in his approach; while he avoids buying stocks at high valuations based solely on future prospects, he justifies holding existing ones with the same rationale. His strategy is also largely Buffett-inspired so there may be nothing new for readers familiar with Buffett’s style. Despite these critiques, his proven success make his insights worth exploring.

The book’s second theme, evolutionary theory, is less compelling. Although the blurb claims it influenced Prasad’s investment style, the connections often feel forced—such as the stretched analogy between sea urchins, McKinsey, and robust businesses. Prasad is clearly well-versed on the subject and it almost feels that he has simply used it as a “hook” to distinguish this book from many other similar books on investing. That said, some examples, like honeybees’ nesting sites in the final chapter, are intriguing.

At 275 pages, the book is concise, and Prasad’s writing is accessible. However, his frequent repetition of favoorite themes — such as buying great businesses, never selling them, and focusing on Return on Capital Employed — can feel redundant. Despite these flaws, the book offers valuable insights for young investors. Learning from a successful investor like Prasad is always a worthwhile experience.

Pros: An insight into Prasad’s excellent investment record

Cons: Largely “Buffett-isms”, stretched comparisons between evolution and investing

James, Percival Everett, 2024

Rating: 5/5

Percival Everett's *James* initially gave me pause. Could an adaptation of Mark Twain's "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" offer anything significantly different? I approached it with skepticism. To my surprise, Everett delivers something extraordinary—a thought-provoking exploration that retains Twain's spirit while carving out its own unique identity.

James unfolds through the perspective of Jim, and by shifting the narrative to Jim's perspective, Everett deepens our understanding of his inner world, offering a more intimate and complex portrayal than Twain's original. The story introduces compelling new characters, including Daniel Emmett and Norman, whose roles enrich the drama. Emmett, a historical 19th-century minstrel and composer with a complex relationship to slavery, appears early through his songbook—a choice whose significance becomes clear midway through the novel.

Everett masterfully employs two distinct linguistic styles to reflect the complexities of enslaved people's lives. One mimics the way racist white society expected them to speak—a simplified, subservient tone used as a survival shield. As Jim reflects: "The remarkable truth, however, was that it was not the pistol, but my language, the fact that I didn't conform to his expectations, that I could read, that had so disturbed and frightened him." The prose then shifts to a more reflective and nuanced style, highlighting the book's duality: a carefully controlled exterior masking profound truths beneath.

The only notable issue for me lies in the final third's series of convenient coincidences. These unlikely events feel forced and somewhat diminish the emotional impact. Nevertheless, *James* remains a truly lovely read. The depth of its characters, the emotional weight of its themes, and the beauty of its prose outweigh any minor flaws.

Pros: Inventive reimagining of a classic story, rich character development, emotionally resonant themes of survival and identity, and thought-provoking prose

Cons: A series of convenient coincidences in the latter third that occasionally stretch believability

The Last Murder at the End of the World, Stuart Turton, 2024

Rating: 5/5 

Stuart Turton's willingness to reinvent his approach with each book is bold and compelling—one of the reasons I eagerly anticipate his every release. His earlier works, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle and The Devil and the Dark Water, showcased his range: the first a whodunit with a Groundhog Day-like twist, the second a dark tale of superstition and conspiracy aboard a 17th-century ship. Now he ventures into new territory with a sci-fi apocalypse whodunit, as the title aptly suggests.

Set in a post-apocalyptic future, The Last Murder at the End of the World unfolds on a small Greek island where a deadly fog has decimated humanity. The survivors—122 villagers and three scientists—live under strict rules enforced by an AI voice embedded in their consciousness. When a murder occurs, the islanders must solve the crime before their protective systems fail and the fog consumes them all. As time runs out, the story weaves a gripping tale of survival, community, and hidden truths in a world on the brink of oblivion.

The book's greatest strength, as with Turton's previous works, is its seamless blend of genres. He masterfully combines a classic locked-room mystery with a post-apocalyptic setting and speculative science fiction, creating something remarkably fresh. However, the book's ambitious scope, paired with its relatively short length, occasionally leads to superficial treatment of certain elements. This is particularly evident in the whodunit aspect—the numerous subplots make it challenging to remain invested in the murder mystery. Yet Turton's skilled world-building and talent for crafting intricate puzzles make the story captivating from beginning to end.

Pros: Inventive genre-blending, unique world-building, and an engrossing plot.

Cons: An underdeveloped whodunit element