Book Review: That's What Frenemies Are For by Sophie Littlefield and Lauren Gershell

I have heard a lot about this new release, but I wasn't sure about it. I love women's literature, but not what I would call "chick lit," and I wasn't sure if this book would roam into that territory.

But, I love Littlefield's novels and I am delighted that she partnered with a new novelist, and I gave in. I'm glad I did.

That's What Frenemies Are For tells the story of Julia, a New York socialite, who takes on Tatum, a young spin instructor hungry for Julia's social life, as a social experiment project. Julia helps Tatum rebrand herself with the express intention of using Tatum to regain some social traction she feels she is losing out on by being stranded in the city over the summer due to water damage to their Hampton's vacation home. What follows is Julia's social destruction and rebirth as Tatum doesn't "stick to the script" Julia has dreamed up.

I was not sure I was going to stick with this book: Julia initially struck me as a bitter, self-important, social-climber that I didn't identify with at all, nor did I respect her. However, I'm so glad I did stick with the book because Julia's awakening and rebirth on the heels of Tatum's antics redeemed her in my estimation. Julia rediscovers what is really important--her marriage, her children, her family, friends who are true and real--and she ultimately makes choices that I can respect in dealing with her false friends and husband. And in all of this, I think, lies the power of the book.

So many people today--of all ages and social spheres--are caught up in their image, which Frenemies explores fairly well, to the point it interferes with their real lives and their perception of reality. Julia, through Tatum, relearns what is vital to her happiness, and these are all the things she had not been investing her time in. Julia's growth trajectory is remarkable, and I admire the myriad trials Littlefield and Gershell put her through so that her growth becomes a rebirth, a rediscovery of her deepest, truest self, which she had lost in her own misguided pursuit of the New York City social scene.

I really ended up enjoying a book I wasn't sure I was going to like, and that in itself is worth it.

Book Review: The Lost Girls of Paris by Pam Jenoff

One of my favorite elements of historical fiction is learning new things or rediscovering things I learned once upon a time and forgot.

Jenoff's The Lost Girls of Paris falls into this latter category. I had learned at one point in time about women who have time and again aided men during wars that threatened their freedoms and families, women who have often gone unnoticed and unsung for their sacrifices.

The separate stories of Grace and Eleanor are compelling in their shared defiance of social conventions restricting women to appropriate behaviors. These women in their own ways embody Eleanor Roosevelt's exhortation to "do things you think you cannot do." Eleanor's recruitment, training, and command of women as resistance supporters and facilitators in Nazi-occupied France should have been something she would not be able to do by social gender standards of her time. Women did not have a proper place in the war, except to keep the home fires burning and welcoming home the soldiers who were fortunate enough to return. Similarly, Grace should not have been able to investigate and probe Eleanor's death and ultimately the women under Eleanor's command because that job was within a man's realm of behavior. Both women uncover deception, treachery, less than ethical behavior--of men.

This story is also very much about Marie and the other women entrenched in Nazi-occupied France, women who risked everything including their lives to do more, to be more than their situation as women in a male-dominated culture allowed. Contradicting the restrictions and their perceived limitations, Marie and her sister telegraph operators become forces to be reckoned with, despite the Nazis despicable attitudes and behaviors.

I give The Lost Girls of Paris four stars out of five. I really enjoyed the story and Jenoff's interweaving of two story lines. This is a narrative strategy I'm particularly fond of. I strongly recommend this novel for lovers of strong female characters who are not afraid to break the rules and historical fiction devotees. I am glad to add this book to my cache of World War II stories.

Book Review: A Fall of Marigolds by Susan Meissner

I'm normally not a fan of stories about 9/11, mostly because I cannot bear the pain of recollection these stories cause me. This is not to say that I do not remember the lives lost and destroyed by the horrific attacks on America that occurred that day. It's that I'm still healing. I still choke up talking to my current students, who were not even born when 9/11 happened in 2001, about the things we all witnessed on our televisions, things that rendered us all temporarily impotent in the face of evil.

So, I was surprised when I picked up this novel and was about four chapters into it when I realized it was a historical novel about not only the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Fire in New York City, but simultaneously about a parallel story in 2001 connected to one another by a scarf. By the time I made this discovery, I was already hooked into Clara's story, her devastating loss and grief. So, when I realized that Taryn's story was of her devastating loss and grief from the Twin Towers' collapse on 9/11, I was unable to put the book aside. I pushed through my own grief at recalling the events and visions that remain with me today. And, I'm so glad I did.

Meissner is a masterful storyteller, weaving two separate, but eerily similar stories of women losing men they love, on whom they were pinning all their dreams for the future, in the horrific, human-caused catastrophes resulting in monstrous, senseless loss of life. Clara's and Taryn's stories are different, but remarkably similar, and I was mesmerized by the weaving of the novel's story between the two women's efforts to come to terms with their mourning and forge ahead with their lives. The scarf tying them together, a beautiful blue fabric background hosting marigolds, becomes a symbol for fragility and survival, strength born from weakness, the story of many women throughout the human experience.

I give A Fall of Marigolds a four out of five stars only because I wanted more! I wanted more from the ending--well maybe not more, but a different ending. I know this is not fair, to project my desires onto the book, the characters, or the writer, but I wanted somehow for Taryn's daughter to meet Clara's daughter. Fanciful and perhaps a bit cliche, but it was what I wanted for these two brave, broken women.

I am grateful to Meissner for tricking me into breaking my rule about not reading about 9/11. I think reading A Fall of Marigolds helped me heal a bit, too, right alongside Clara and Taryn. But just a little.

Book Review: The Selection by Kiera Cass

I was introduced to this young adult series by one of my students (thank you, Anik!). I absolutely love that my students are becoming self-admitted readers, recommending and asking for recommendations for their next great book read.

This first installment of The Selection series comprised by The Selection, The One, and The Crown reminded me of a nice version of The Hunger Games meets The Bachelor. In a post-World War IV u/dys/topia, Prince Maxon must select his bride from among the 35 eligible young ladies nominated to
 compete for his affections. Each of the young ladies is given an "equal shot" at winning as they are elevated from their castes to a caste worthy of the Prince--the future King--and their eventual role as Queen.

America Singer enters the competition in the hopes of improving her family's lives, hot on the heels of being dumped by her long-time boyfriend Aspen. She finds herself caught between her developing feelings for Prince Maxon and her loyalties to Aspen. The story largely chronicles America's indecision and vacillation between the two young men's attentions while also depicting the interactions between the other princesses vying for the hand of the Prince. Interestingly, the chaos one might expect does not truly develop as there are rules against the princesses sabotaging one another.

Surprisingly, I liked The Selection: I didn't expect to, truth be told. I think I liked it because I was reading it from the perspective of a mom wanting a somewhat wholesome story where girls were not throwing themselves at the guy (although some of the girls did) or compromising their morals (although some of the girls apparently did that, too). I also really enjoyed the devolving utopia to dystopia theme and appreciated the need for the Royal family to control their media image in the way they did. Even the mean-spirited, hurtful King, Maxon's father, was not simply mean for the sake of being mean, but grasping at the deteriorating control while not knowing what to do as his kingdom begins to show signs of cracking.

On the other hand, America's constant vacillation became frustrating in this book; I was so relieved when she finally admitted to herself and to Maxon that she was developing feelings for him.

The book is a quick read; in fact, all the books in the series are quick reads, as I finished all three in this series and the two in the tangential series within about nine days. I enjoyed this book more than I thought I would, and I have recommended it to my students who like The Hunger Games and romantic stories. I gave this story four stars out of five because I enjoyed the tension created by the competition among the girls and the indecision America wrestles with.