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

The Body, Bill Bryson, 2008

Rating: 5/5

This is probably going to be my shortest book review ever! This book is simply a collection of facts, largely fun facts, about different parts of the body — the skin, hair, brain, head, the mouth, and so on. Bryson has achieved two remarkable things: (1) he has created a 400-page encyclopedia of the human body, and (2) he has made this the most fun-to-read encyclopedia ever.

Since there is nothing much to review really, here are my top 10 fun facts from the book.

(1) The human body is essentially a collection of inert elements — the same as in a pile of dirt.

(2) The Royal Society of Chemistry calculated that assembling actor Benedict Cumberbatch from his basic chemical components would cost £96,546.79.

(3) Race is merely a sliver of epidermis about a millimeter thick.

(4) If flattened out, our lungs would cover a tennis court; our blood vessels, if laid end to end, would wrap around Earth 2.5 times; and our DNA, if stretched out, would extend beyond Pluto.

(5) We grow 8 meters of hair in our lifetime.

(6) Visual inputs take one-fifth of a second to process, so the brain continuously forecasts what the world will look like a fifth of a second ahead — we spend our entire lives living in a world that doesn't quite exist yet.

(7) Volume doubles approximately every 6 decibels, meaning a 96-decibel sound isn't just slightly louder than a 90-decibel sound — it's twice as loud.

(8) Although everyone reads and pronounces the last blood group as the letter "O," Landsteiner (who discovered blood types) actually meant it to be zero, since this type showed no clumping reaction.

(9) During a single day of breathing, you likely inhale at least one molecule that was once exhaled by every person who has ever lived.

(10) While studying specimens, Henking noticed one chromosome that always remained separate from the others. He named it "X" simply because it was mysterious, not because of its shape.

Pros: Lots of interesting facts about the human body, comprehensive yet concise

Cons: It's just a collection of interesting facts about the human body!

The Three Body Problem, Cixin Liu, 2008

Rating: 4/5

This is my first experience reading a book after watching its adaptation. I thoroughly enjoyed the Netflix TV series (released in March 2024) and the motivation to read the book was to (hopefully) understand the characters and the nuances of the story better, things that an eight-episode show (that also has some elements from the subsequent books of the trilogy) may not do enough justice to. There were also a few unanswered questions for me at the end of the show — basically some plot elements that did not make much sense — and getting the answers to those would have been a bonus.

The Three-Body Problem is the first installment in a science fiction trilogy set in China, beginning during the Cultural Revolution. One of the key protagonists is Ye Wenjie, an astrophysicist who becomes entangled in a covert military project aimed at contacting extraterrestrial life. Her actions are driven by a line from Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring": "To achieve moral awakening required a force outside the human race." The novel delves into themes of human disillusionment, diverse responses to existential threats, scientific discovery, the potentially profound impact of humanity's first contact with an alien civilization, and ultimately, the resilience of our species.

The book combines a unique plot, fascinating storytelling, and rigorous scientific details with an underlying thought-provoking theme. Despite its scientific complexity, an in-depth understanding of the science isn't necessary to follow the plot—except for the part about sophons, which I think the Netflix show handled more simply and elegantly. However, the translation from the original Chinese didn't work well for me. The translator, Ken Liu (whose short story collection, "The Paper Menagerie & Other Stories", I found excellent) has expressed his view that the best translations into English shouldn't read as if they were originally written in English. He admits to adjusting some narrative techniques to ones more familiar to American readers while retaining the original flavor in other cases. As a result, I found the translation jarring at times.

Indeed, the book provides more depth to the characters and better explains their motivations compared to the TV show. However, I found the latter more accessible and engaging. As a result, I'm likely to prefer watching the adaptation over reading the next two books in the trilogy!

Pros: Inventive plot, thought-provoking theme

Cons: The translation

The Checklist Manifesto, Atul Gawande, 2009

Rating: 4/5

I am not a big fan of self-help books, but I made an exception for “The Checklist Manifesto” for a couple of reasons: (1) I consider one of Gawande's later books, “Being Mortal,” the best non-fiction book I have ever read, and (2) I expected interesting anecdotes about the history of checklists, written in Gawande’s breezy, engaging style. While well-written and easy to read, this book is no "Being Mortal." Although it encourages readers to use checklists more consciously in their daily lives, it discusses a subject that most of us intuitively understand and does not seem very insightful or groundbreaking.

Gawande's logic is sound and compelling. He argues that the increase in available knowledge has both saved and burdened us. The instances of fallibility due to ignorance have been overtaken by those due to the complexity of modern systems and processes. Checklists, he suggests, are the straightforward solution to prevent mistakes that arise from this complexity.

The book is quite short at about 190 pages in the Kindle version, making it a quick and accessible read. Gawande covers the use of checklists in various industries such as aviation, construction, investments (an industry I am somewhat familiar with, and his examples seemed somewhat manufactured and less convincing), music, and restaurants. However, most of his narrative focuses on hospitals and the medical field, making it somewhat repetitive despite its short length.

Despite its shortcomings, the book is probably worth a read, especially given its brevity. As Gawande points out, using a checklist can often feel beneath us and even embarrassing, but this book might make you rethink that notion and appreciate the simplicity and effectiveness of checklists in achieving efficiency and preventing errors.

A fun fact to highlight (according to Gawande): when airlines merge, one of the fiercest battles is between pilots over whose checklist will be adopted and used going forward. This underscores the importance and impact of checklists in critical operations.

Pros: Gawande’s typical breezy and engaging style, brevity making it a quick read

Cons: Lack of significant insights or new revelations, somewhat repetitive narrative

Close to Death, Anthony Horowitz, 2024

Rating: 3/5

In the world of murder mysteries, Anthony Horowitz stands out for his diverse approach. His books defy convention, and “Close to Death” is no exception. I have read four previous Hawthorne books—the first two were Susan Ryeland mysteries, structured as books within books. One even featured Sherlock Holmes. The fourth book saw the author playing sidekick to investigator Daniel Hawthorne in a true crime novel. Now, in “Close to Death,” Horowitz revisits an unsolved case from years ago, getting involved with Hawthorne long after the crime occurred. However, this desire to be unconventional did not work for me this time, but more about that later.

Detective Hawthorne tackles an unsolvable murder in Riverside Close, an idyllic gated and wealthy community. The entire set-up is very Agatha Christie-like, an obvious inspiration for Horowitz in many of his books. The Close consists of six houses occupied by a hedge fund manager and his wife, a chess expert and his Asian wife, a dentist and his invalid wife, a conscientious doctor-designer couple, a widowed lawyer, and two ex-nuns. The least liked person is killed, and everyone else seemingly has a motive, however trivial it may be. Horowitz uses this murder, committed several years ago, as the basis for his new book.

Once again, Horowitz blends reality and fiction, keeping himself as a character alongside Hawthorne. Juggling multiple timelines, Horowitz keeps readers engaged and guessing. The supposed murderer is revealed exactly midway through the book, and it’s left to Horowitz to piece together the real story behind the murder. While this eventually justifies the “meta” structure of the book, it is distracting and weary during the first half. On the plot itself (which is the most important part of any murder mystery), the eventual resolution is far from satisfying—while the author has scattered a few clues throughout the book, it could have been resolved in so many different ways, and I don’t think it is possible for readers to work it out themselves.

While Horowitz’s ambition is admirable, it occasionally hampers the book’s flow. Eventually, I felt that Horowitz’s desire to be unconventional sometimes overshadowed the plot.

A bonus: Horowitz rants about his dislike for locked-room mysteries in the middle of the book but helpfully suggests a couple of good ones for lovers of that genre: “Murder in the Crooked House” by Soji Shimada, and “The Honjin Murders” by Seishi Yokomizo.

Pros: Engaging, Agatha Christie-like setting

Cons: Weary meta structure at times

Breath, James Nestor, 2020

Rating: 4/5

"Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art" is part historical narrative, part journal of the author’s personal health exploration, and part guidebook to breathing techniques. While the topic might seem mundane, this combination, along with the book’s brevity, makes it an easy and interesting read.

For me, the historical narrative was the most captivating part. Nestor peppers the book with fascinating stories, including how human evolution — becoming brainier, learning to speak and to cook — actually impaired our ability to breathe properly. He discusses ancient Indian yogis, the perfect teeth of Native Americans, the use of breathing techniques on Civil War battlefields, and how tough chewing gum can help with breathing.

The book is filled with various breathing techniques and the science behind aerobic and anaerobic respiration. While this information can be quickly found online, Nestor provides valuable context for these different methods (he also includes a helpful appendix at the end). However, this book shouldn't be used for self-medicating various ailments. Some of the breathing techniques contradict each other, and there are clear risks to following them without medical supervision.

Nestor also describes some of his personal experiments in the book. These sections are detailed and repetitive, which can drag. Nonetheless, his overall exploration of the subject still makes the book worthwhile.

The best tip in the book: The perfect breath is an inhalation for about 5.5 seconds, followed by an exhalation for 5.5 seconds, which is about 5.5 breaths per minute. And yes, if you're interested, you will likely take 670 million breaths in your lifetime!

Pros: Interesting overall exploration of a seemingly ordinary topic, historical anecdotes

Cons: The description of his personal experiments

Babel, R F Kuang, 2022

Rating: 5/5

“An act of translation is necessarily an act of betrayal” concludes a character in the book and that essentially forms the crux of this novel — it starts with the hope that translation can bridge different cultures, but the protagonists soon discover that the power of words can tear people apart in a colonial framework.

Babel is a historical fantasy novel set in an alternate version of early 19th century England where the Royal Institute of Translation in Oxford (or Babel) drives the country’s technological prowess and colonial ambitions. Translators use silver bars enchanted with “match pairs” in different languages to do so. Robin Swift, Ramy Mirza, Victoire Desgraves and Letty Price enrol at Babel, longing to belong and grappling with their loyalties to their capitalist masters and their people.

Kuang's writing is accessible, simple, and fast-paced, yet insightful with her detailed exploration of the etymology of words in multiple languages. She liberally uses footnotes throughout the book. These range from pure fiction to reality, are often quirky, but significantly add to the book. However, at times, I felt the plot was somewhat formulaic — she has taken standard tropes such as racism (Robin’s real Chinese name is never revealed), capitalism and callousness (the willingness to profit from opium even at the expense of a generation’s well-being), friendship and betrayal, and same-sex love (with  subtle hints) and checked them against her plot. 

The varied tempo of her writing was another slight gripe for me. While the book is somewhat of a page-turner, the story moves along at a very rapid clip in the first third of the book while it gets stretched out in the concluding parts. Nevertheless, as Robin feels as a young child, “what a pleasure it was to hold the weight of an entire, finished story” in my hands!

Pros: Inventive plot, insightful and pacy

Cons: Slightly clichéd, varying pace

The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida, Shehan Karunatilaka, 2022

Rating: 5/5

This book, winner of the 2022 Booker Prize, is an incredible combination of an imaginative and almost wild storyline, abundant humor, a scathing commentary on Sri Lankan politics in the 1980s, and thoughtful character sketching of the main protagonist and supporting actors.

The premise of this book bears some resemblance to George Saunders' 2017 novel, Lincoln in the Bardo, that revolves around Abraham Lincoln's deceased son and various other characters, all situated in a realm between life and rebirth. Saunders incorporates real historical events from Lincoln's life into his narrative. Similarly, this book follows the journey of Maali Almeida, a photographer who wakes up dead and finds himself in the afterlife. He has seven days, or "moons," to move on or risk being trapped in the afterlife. Karunatilaka sets his story against the backdrop of the communal unrest in Sri Lanka during the 1980s.

The plot elements are zany and absolutely delightful and include a 42 storeyed afterlife waiting area, wind as the main form of transport, demons and other Sri Lankan mythological beings, a talking leopard and the important role of an Elvis Presley album. Karunatilaka’s writing is half-part humourous, especially when he comments on everday life in Sril Lanka during that period  — “Lankans can’t queue unless you define a queue as an amorphous curve with multiple entry points”, and half part philosophical — “Evil is not what we should fear. Creatures with power acting in their own interest: that is what should make us shudder”. Karunatilka also uses an interesting second-person narrative style which I thought somehow immerses the reader better into the book. There is a fair amount of reference to Sri Lankan events in the 1980s and the roles that various entities such as the government, the JVP party and the Indian army played but that should not be a constraint for a reader not familiar with these events. Karunatilka also helpfully incorporates a cheatsheet early on in the book to underscrore these entities.

But most importantly, Karunatilaka is able to flesh out the various characters really well — Maali’s lover, his lover’s cousin and father, a dead JVP activist, a blind astrologer, and several others. Maali Almeida’s character development through the events over the seven days as well as through flashbacks, is particularly well done. He is introduced to the reader as “Photographer. Gambler. Slut” right at the beginning of the book but we gradually then begin to understand his motivations and principles as the story progresses towards his inevitable redemption.

Pros: Zany plot, humorous writing, fleshed out characters

Cons: Nothing significant

Sakina's Kiss, Vivek Shanbhag, 2023

Rating: 4/5

I picked up Sakina's Kiss with high expectations after reading Shanbhag's earlier work, Ghachar Ghochar. And for the most part, it did not disappoint. While it may seem like a simple novel, it delves into the complexities of human relationships and explores the themes of gender and a patriarchal society with great nuance.

The book is narrated by Venkataramana, an upper middle-class executive, who’s had a reasonably successful career but has felt the need to conform all through his life — at one point he ruminates that his easy acceptance of his shortened name, Venkat, possibly reflects the firmness of his convictions. The narrative covers just a few days but reflects on multiple generations through Venkataramana's reflections. It starts off like a thriller, with some goons inquiring about his daughter and disrupting his idyllic life. However, the focus of the story is primarily on the relationships among his family members and highlights the growing distance between him, his wife, and his daughter due to his outdated thinking.

Shanbhag's writing style is deceptively simple, infused with humor and earthy metaphors, yet carries an underlying sense of foreboding. Like in his previous novel, Sakina's Kiss is superbly translated from the original Kannada by Srinath Perur. The only aspect that puzzled me was the choice of title. While there is a humorous anecdote in the story that refers to the title, its relevance was not entirely clear to me.

Sakina's Kiss shares many similarities with Shanbhag's previous novel, Ghachar Ghochar. However, while the latter leaves room for contemplation, Sakina's Kiss ends somewhat abruptly. Perhaps this is because the book initially sets up a thrilling plot, but ultimately focuses more on its underlying themes than the story itself.

Pros: Superb writing, nuanced exploration of themes

Cons: Awkward ending