Moyes has mastered the art of likable, not terribly memorable, but far from simple-minded storytelling.
By page 400-plus, the reader is eager for a resolution, and it comes as a bit of a surprise, as it should. For my money, Rowling has mastered her new genre impressively.
The book’s energy, its wide reach and rich detail make it a confident example of the “unputdownable” novel.
The area of Midtown Manhattan around Grand Central Terminal, with its host of landmark buildings, serves as the backdrop...The tour of Midtown, both above and below ground, is alone worth the price of admission.
...Tooly the undaunted outsider emerges as a humane, engaging character — a breed apart from the array of neglectful family members and friends whom, as we finally learn, she had every right and reason to resent and forget.
...without spoiling the fun of reading this excellent addition to King's growing list of mystery-thriller titles, there's even a small hint that the Mr. Mercedes show may go on — a scary thought indeed.
Carsick isn’t a straightforward On the Road clone, however. Waters impishly provides us with not only a day-by-day description of his actual hitchhike, but two novellas...
Over the course of her year at the Agency, Joanna—who is now a poet, journalist, critic, and prize-winning novelist—“finds her own voice by acting as Salinger’s.”...You’ll have to read her beautifully crafted memoir...
King is brilliant on the moral contradictions that propelled anthropological encounters with remote tribes — a volatile mix of liberal high-mindedness, stoicism, hubris and greed.
The only problem with this novel is that its covers are too close together. I wanted more of Slava, his bumpy love life, his venal grandfather, even Herr Barber.
That Clinton keeps her cards close to her chest can be read as proof positive of a presidential run in her future. Maybe after that, she can finally give us the goods.
...The Vacationers really is perfect summer reading: a beautifully written story that’s neither too depressing nor too charming, one that contains all the aching emptiness of wanting children or sex or companionship. It’s like sitting on a perfect sandy beach and knowing there’s jellyfish in the water, waiting to sting.
There are many nice moments in “Tibetan Peach Pie.” (Explaining the title is not worth the effort.) But it’s mostly a string of anecdotes; the author doesn’t reach deep for genuine self-examination. His similes sometimes work; just as often, they’re a professional charmer’s determined overkill.
The book’s title alludes to Karel Gott...and the relationship between art and politics is a running theme, with due reverence for those who kept their integrity. Szczygiel’s absorbing, offbeat history celebrates the truths they defended against oppression.
...this book should appeal to a wider audience. It underlines the need for intelligence-gathering by humans as well as by machines, and illustrates the gap between spying and policy.
In the end, none of these die-hard fans comes closer to finding the real Dylan, but they discover over and over just why Dylan’s music means so much to them.
He says that the financial rescue programs enacted in the crisis years were a success because the alternative—which no one can ever know—would have been far worse. What we do know is that, six years later, the economy is suffering through a historically weak recovery and the emergency programs haven't ended.
...the distinction between belief and ritual, but if Ferris means to make a larger point about community, he doesn't fully pull it off. In the end, though, it's a problem that, if not minor, doesn't derail the book.
...it’s the author’s unflinching portrayal of Mireille’s shattered physical and psychological state once she’s rejoined her husband and infant son that is at once disturbing and frighteningly resonant.
The prose is lovely, with the sort of wondrous, magical, humor-free tone that could be cheesy in the wrong hands. Doerr's novel is ambitious and majestic without bluntness or overdependence on heartbreak...