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For ex-pats living in the Middle East, following the rules is of utmost importance.  At least, that's how 34-year-old Cassie Hugo feels.  Over the last two years that her husband has been working for the American embassy in Amman, Jordan, she's learned how to handle herself in a very foreign culture.  By adhering to the rules, she's remained safe and sound.  Bitter because of her inability to become pregnant and the increasing strain that struggle has put on her marriage, Cassie isn't exactly happy, but she is settled into her unconventional life abroad.  

Because of her expertise, Cassie agrees to mentor Margaret Brickshaw, a young mother who's just arrived in Amman with her husband.  Cassie's enamored of Margaret's 15-month-old son, Mather, even if she's growing more and more frustrated with his effusive, impulsive mother.  No matter how many times Cassie warns Margaret to restrain herself, the newcomer refuses to listen.  Wanting only to explore and experience real Jordanian culture, she takes risks that—in a place like Amman—could be deadly.

Cassie's worst fears are realized when Margaret is arrested after a minor car accident.  When she fails to return from the police station, Cassie grows concerned, then terrified.  What trouble has Margaret's impetuousness gotten her into this time?  How can Cassie help her if she can't even find her?  And what will she do with poor Mather, who cries for his mother?  In a place where breaking the rules can result in the most dire of consequences, what will happen to one hapless, naive American woman?

An ex-pat herself, Siobhan Fallon brings that unique experience to vivid life in The Confusion of Languages, her first novel (read about Fallon's real-life experiences living in Jordan here).  Amman provides a colorful backdrop for a tense, engrossing story peopled with characters whose personalities and relationships are realistically complex and flawed.  I cared about these story people, which kept me turning pages in order to find out their separate fates.  While the tale definitely gets depressing, it's undeniably engaging.  With skilled prose, a propulsive plot, an exotic setting, and intriguing characters, The Confusion of Languages is a well-crafted novel about regrets and redemption, fences vs. freedom, and caution vs. compassion.  I quite enjoyed it.

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (a dozen or so F-bombs, plus milder expletives), violence, and sexual content

To the FTC, with love:  I received an e-galley of The Confusion of Languages from the generous folks at Penguin Random House via those at NetGalley.  Thank you!

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"Why do you cling to the end, when the beginning is waiting?" (13)

Lalla Paul has never experienced a normal life in a safe, stable environment.  She's grown up in a London ravaged by the deadly effects of global warming, scarcity, disease, fear, and rigid government control.  As the daughter of wealthy, influential parents, the 16-year-old has been sheltered in her parents' apartment, protected from the violence and chaos that grows ever more prevalent on the streets outside her windows.  Although her mother has done her best to educate Lalla, the teen knows very little about life beyond the walls of her well-guarded flat.

For years, Lalla's father, Michael, has been planning the family's exit strategy.  He's had a ship built and stocked with enough supplies to support 500 people on a voyage over the open sea.  Through a careful selection process, Michael has chosen the smartest, most skilled passengers—the kind of people who will be most useful in building a new society.  

When push comes to shove, Michael's plan is put into frantic action.  Suddenly, Lalla finds herself adrift in a floating city that is not quite the utopia it seems to be.  As she comes to understand what is really going on, she'll have to decide what she truly wants for her future and how far she's willing to go to make it happen.

The Ship—a debut novel by English writer Antonia Honeywell—tells a dystopian tale that's both haunting and compelling despite being skimpy on action.  It's more of an introspective story, almost an allegory (we've got a Noah's Ark archetype, plus a Michael/Adam character—a deeper reader would likely find plenty of religious symbolism here) about leaving expectations behind and starting over in a brave, new world.  Regardless of how you interpret it, the novel definitely raises thought-provoking questions.  I liked that about it, even if I found the characters (especially Lalla) irritating and the plot a bit ho-hum.  Overall, though, I enjoyed The Ship.  It's not the kind of book I'm going to be shouting about from the rooftops, but it ended up being a decent read for me.

(Readalikes:  Reminds me a teensy bit of Icebreaker by Lian Tanner)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for mild language (no F-bombs), violence, mild sexual content, and disturbing subject matter

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

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Although she's ten years old, Lilly Blackwood has never run outside, never played with other children.  Instead, she's confined to a small attic room with only her parents for (occasional) company.  Her mother—a religious zealot—insists the isolation is for her own protection.  If other people saw Lilly, she says, it would scare them.  When she is finally released from the home that has become her prison, Lilly's freedom is short-lived.  Sold by her mother to the circus, she becomes imprisoned again, just with a different jailer. 

Despite the bleak, often cruel world of the circus, Lilly finds a ragtag family and, for the first time, a sense of belonging.  When tragedy descends, however, it seems she may never find a happy ending ...

Twenty years later, Julia Blackwood returns to the home and horse farm she has inherited from her parents.  The place holds few happy memories for her.  Hoping to make peace with her past, Julia explores Blackwood House, especially the corners that were off-limits to her as a child.  Stunned to discover a hidden attic room and old circus photos featuring a striking young woman, she determines to uncover all of Blackwood House's secrets.  What she discovers—about her family and about herself—will shock her to her core.

The Life She Was Given by Ellen Marie Wiseman is an atmospheric, absorbing novel peopled with colorful, complex characters.  Told in the alternating voices of Lilly and Julia, it tells a vivid and compelling story.  Also a sad, sad one.  In fact, parts of the ending are so mournful that the novel, overall, feels less than satisfying.  While it offers a few sparks of hope and uplift, on the whole, The Life She Was Given is just depressing.  Engrossing, but pretty darn cheerless.  In the end, then, I found this one disappointing despite being well-written.  

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen)  

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (no F-bombs), violence, blood/gore, sexual content, and disturbing subject matter

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of The Life She Was Given from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.

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Eight years ago, a parent's worst nightmare came true for Anna Davalos and Tom Whitaker.  Their 13-year-old daughter, Julie, was taken from her bedroom at knife point.  While Anna and Tom slept, blissfully unaware of what was happening upstairs, 10-year-old Jane watched her sister's abduction in horrified silence.  No one has seen Julie since.  With no clues to indicate the fate of the missing girl, the Whitakers have reluctantly accepted the fact that their daughter is most likely dead.  

Then, one day, out of the blue, a woman arrives on the Whitakers' doorstep claiming to be Julie.  The family is overjoyed, but also confused.  Although this stranger looks like their long-lost loved one, she doesn't always act like her.  Can Julie really have changed so much in eight years?  What happened while she was away?  Why won't "Julie" tell anyone who took her and how she finally escaped?  As much as the Whitakers want to believe this woman is their daughter, they're simply not sure.  But, if she isn't Julie, then who is she?  And what does she want from the Whitakers?

I've read a few books with the same premise as the one around which Good As Gone—a debut novel by Amy Gentry—revolves.  It's an intriguing idea for sure.  Considering the strange true case of Nicholas Barclay/Frédéric Bourdin, these types of stories aren't even that far-fetched (at least not in the pre-DNA testing era).  The question is, does the execution of the novel live up to its fascinating premise?  Sorta.  Good As Gone definitely tells a compelling and twisty story.  The ending surprised me.  Plot-wise, the tale feels a little disjointed.  Julie's chapters, in particular, get confusing.  It doesn't help that the characters are not overly warm or sympathetic—I didn't feel super connected to any of them.  On the whole, the book's depressing, but engrossing.  Although Good As Gone has been compared to blockbusters like Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train, it's not that skillfully written.  Gentry has potential for sure, but this one feels like a debut novel.  It's not bad; it just could have been lots better.  

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of Never Missing, Never Found by Amanda Panitch; The Stranger Game by Cylin Busby; and Only Daughter by Anna Snoekstra)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (a dozen or so F-bombs, plus milder expletives), violence, blood/gore, sexual content, disturbing subject matter, and depictions of illegal drug use

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find