Spring Break Book Reviews

(not your average beach reads)

Last week, Curtis and I spent four nights in Arizona to celebrate our wedding anniversary. In between hiking, museum-browsing, and eating delicious food in Phoenix, we read our books in happy companionship. While we reconnected on our much-needed getaway, Theo had the time of his life with Grandma and Grandpa. We’re refreshed, but acclimating to real life after vacation always takes time. Since my house is a mess, and my suitcase is still packed, I’m keeping today’s newsletter simple with two spring break book reviews.

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Doomsday Book by Connie Willis

Curtis was utterly shocked when I dropped a Hugo and Nebula award-winning speculative fiction novel in my suitcase. SHOCKED. This is not my usual fare, but it’s been on my TBR shelf for months, and I was in the mood for a big backlist book.

Set in 2054, this time travel pandemic novel takes place over Christmastime, making it an odd choice for my poolside reading, but I was hooked from the moment Professor Dunworthy rushes into the time travel laboratory at Oxford University to see his favorite student off to the Middle Ages. Though Kivrin is his brightest pupil, he tries (and fails) to put a stop to the mission as his mind conjures images of cutthroats, diseases, and accusations of witchcraft.

He’s right to be worried, but it’s far worse than he imagined. When Kivrin arrives in 1320, she’s disoriented—a result of the time travel, she thinks. This is common, and Dr. Mary Ahrens warned Kivrin about it when she received her inoculations. But Kivrin’s headache worsens until she wakes up in a strange room, fever raging, to a priest reading her last rites.

As Professor Dunworthy waits for stats on Kivrin’s trip through time, hell breaks loose at Oxford. The time travel technician falls prey to a mysterious illness before he can tell Dunworthy what went wrong with Kivrin’s trip, and Dr. Ahrens rushes into action, putting pandemic-level precautions in place.

Reading a pandemic novel set in 2054 was wild—Willis references an earlier pandemic in the States, everyone is encouraged to wear masks, and people quickly react with racism and xenophobia, much like we’ve seen with Covid. Perhaps because the novel is set in England, or because it was written in the 90s, it felt oddly dated despite the futuristic setting. Making phone calls and running messages is a big to-do, and even though the characters communicate via something like Facetime, it isn’t via cell phone.

These anachronisms didn’t bother me at all, in fact they added to the novel’s classic charm. The narrative flows back and forth from Kivrin’s adventures in the Middle Ages to present day 2054. At times I grew frustrated by the pacing, but, like Dunworthy, my concern for Kivrin propelled me forward. I was rewarded with an abundance of rich historical detail, reminiscent of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series (sans romance).

Like Outlander, this is speculative fiction novel for readers who like to be grounded in the real world. It’s a unique exploration of love, loss, and how humans can’t help but care for each other no matter our time period, no matter our traumatic circumstances. I’m looking forward to the second in Willis’s time travel duology: To Say Nothing of the Dog, aVictorian-era romp which promises to be more light-hearted in contrast to Doomsday’s Medieval examination of life and death.

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Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club by J. Ryan Stradal

I am suing J. Ryan Stradal for five hours of emotional damage. Kidding, kind of. I loved his last two books, and this one is truly a masterpiece of Midwestern fiction. You know whose writing his style reminds me of? Emily St. John Mandel. Both display masterful skill weaving multiple timelines and character perspectives into a cohesive, compelling, and powerful narrative that encompass the human experience. Both balance the heavy parts of life with hopeful, uplifting, and humorous moments. They top my list of favorite contemporary authors.

Stradal’s latest story follows Mariel and Ned, a married couple who harken from starkly different class backgrounds. Even so, both relish the opportunity to inherit the family food business. The novel also follows Mariel’s mother, and her grandmother, and a whole cast of family members on both sides. Spanning decades, this complicated family novel, told in alternating chapters, explores classic Midwestern passive-aggressiveness, forgiveness, food, legacy, and vocation.

My heart squeezed at Stradal’s spot-on insights on parenting and being parented. I laughed at the older characters and their stubborn toughness, their sassy spark that reminded me of my own grandmothers. Reading this book just felt like home, as all of Stradal’s books do. I have indeed been to a Wisconsin supper club or two, and I could smell the dining room at Lakeside through the pages.

I caught a couple of references to The Lager Queen of Minnesota and Kitchens of the Great Midwest while reading, which was such a fun treasure. If you choose to read Stradal’s latest this spring, be mindful of some tough content: pregnancy loss, child loss, grief, loss of a parent, cancer, infertility.

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I would love to hear what you’ve read over the last two weeks. Drop a comment below. Oh! And visit our potluck thread for spring meal inspiration, while you’re at it.

Chelsey

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