jedore's reviews
498 reviews

This is a poignant tale set in the Caribbean in the aftermath of slavery’s abolition. The story follows Rachel, a mother who escapes from a Barbados plantation to search for her children, who were taken from her and sold into slavery. Her journey takes her across the islands—Barbados, Trinidad, and beyond—as she navigates treacherous terrain, unearths heartbreaking truths, and finds unexpected moments of grace and resilience. 

Eleanor Shearer drew inspiration for this book from her own family history and academic research on the Caribbean. Her meticulous attention to historical detail makes it feel very authentic.

Women-centered historical fiction is a favorite genre of mine. This one delivers big on emotional depth and enlightenment. It reminded me of Isabel Allende’s Island Beneath the Sea, because of its similar narrative, setting, and fierce spirit of the central female character. 

The character development was stellar, especially Rachel, whose fierce love for her children drives the story. I also loved reading about islands like Barbados and Trinidad, which don’t often feature in historical fiction, adding a fresh perspective to a familiar genre. 

The book sometimes veers into overly flowery language and introspection, which kept it from fully hitting five stars for me. The poetic passages, while beautiful, occasionally slowed the pacing and felt like they overshadowed the urgency of Rachel’s quest. 

That said, this is still a powerful and worthy read. For those looking to expand their understanding of the deep and lasting impact of slavery on humanity—or simply to experience a moving, character-driven story—River Sing Me Home is a heartfelt and significant addition to the historical fiction canon.

This story explores the deeply complex relationship between Connell and Marianne, two young people from a small Irish town whose lives intertwine through high school and into university. The story follows their connection as it shifts and evolves, exploring themes of love, identity, and the emotional scars left by upbringing and social expectations. It's a raw and intimate portrayal of two people who can't seem to stay away from each other—or figure out how to be together. 

Sally Rooney wrote it in just three months! And she doesn't like quotation marks lol.

If you’ve read One Day by David Nicholls or The People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry, this book feels like their introspective, moodier cousin. But don’t let the seemingly innocuous title or soft, romantic cover fool you—Normal People is dark and far more emotionally tense than it appears.  

It’s a slow burn, one that can leave you frustrated as Connell and Marianne repeatedly sabotage their relationship by simply failing to communicate. It's definitely "real-life," making it feel painfully authentic. However, it's challenging at times, as you witness their self-fulfilling prophecies play out in ways that are both infuriating and heartbreaking.  

And, then there’s the ending—not perfectly conclusive, which might be a sticking point for some. It leaves the story lingering in your mind, unfinished in a way that reflects life’s inherent uncertainty.  

This isn’t a book for everyone. I’d especially recommend it for readers who’ve experienced a loveless or emotionally neglectful childhood and can relate to the damage it inflicts on all areas of life—especially relationships. It’s a deeply empathetic novel that doesn’t shy away from the messiness of being human, and if you’re in the right headspace for it, it’s an unforgettable read.

Set in the 1950s and early 1960s, this is the story of Elizabeth Zott, a brilliant chemist who refuses to let societal expectations dictate her life. Despite facing rampant sexism and misogyny at every turn, Elizabeth remains determined to pursue a career in science. After she hits a wall (thanks to it being a very male-dominated field), she unexpectedly becomes the star of a cooking show—using it as a platform to teach women more than just recipes. It’s a story about resilience, defiance, and the quiet ways one person can spark a revolution. 

Here’s an interesting tidbit: This is Bonnie Garmus’s debut novel, written in her 60s! Garmus is a copywriter by trade and was inspired to write this story after experiencing her own frustrations with workplace sexism—a reminder that it’s never too late to create something meaningful and powerful. 

I absolutely love women-centered historical fiction, and this one hit all the right notes. Although the book doesn’t feel heavy in tone, its core is undeniably weighty. The overwhelming sexism and misogyny Elizabeth faces throughout her life are infuriating and, sadly, all too real. It’s impossible not to root for her as she navigates these challenges with intelligence, wit, and determination. 

The character development is exceptional. Each character—quirky, flawed, and wonderfully human—is so well-done  that you can’t help but love them, imperfections and all. They feel like people you know, or wish you did, and they’re what makes this book so hard to put down. 

Perhaps the most heartbreaking realization this book brought to me is that, as women, we haven’t come very far since the 1950s. The reversal of Roe v. Wade, the persistence of workplace inequalities, the election of a man found guilty of sexual improprieties, and countless other events make it clear that the struggles Elizabeth faced are still with us today. It’s disheartening and infuriating—but it also makes stories like this one so important. 

I highly recommend Lessons in Chemistry! It’s a simultaneously fun and poignant feminist read that will make you laugh, cry, and think long after you’ve finished. 

Imagine reaching a point in life where you’ve had enough of societal expectations and decide to forge an entirely new path—even if it means becoming a witch. That’s the premise of this beautifully unconventional story by Sylvia Townsend Warner. Published in 1926, it follows Laura “Lolly” Willowes, a single woman who grows weary of her family’s control over her life. Seeking independence, she moves to a quiet village, where her journey takes a surprising and magical turn. What begins as a story of quiet rebellion evolves into something delightfully witchy and unexpected, culminating in a feminist narrative that was well ahead of its time. 

This book was the first Book of the Month Club selection in the U.S., earning Warner international recognition. Despite this, Warner’s work has often been overshadowed by other literary giants of her time. 

I picked this one up without realizing it was a classic. The re-release with its modern cover threw me off, but as soon as I started reading, I could tell. It definitely has that classic feel—a slow burn with a lot of pontificating that keeps the reader at an emotional distance. For many modern readers, that can be a tough sell, but I stuck with it because the storyline—a single woman taking back her autonomy and choosing her own life, even if it took partnering with the devil to do it—is something I find deeply relatable. 

The book isn’t very long, which made it easier to commit to finishing. No regrets, especially since I’m on a mission to read every quality book about witches that I can! If you share that mission, Lolly Willowes is absolutely worth your time. Just know going in that it’s more of a slow, reflective journey than a fast-paced adventure.  

For anyone who values feminist classics or has an affinity for stories about witches, this is one to add to your list. It’s a subtle, thoughtful read that stands the test of time.

If gothic horror with a dash of the paranormal intrigues you, this book is worth adding to your reading list. The story centers around an eerie, elusive house that appears only once every nine years. Those who are invited inside soon realize they've stumbled into something far more sinister than they could have imagined. Structured as a series of interconnected short stories, each section introduces a new victim of the mysterious and malevolent brother-sister duo who inhabit the house. The narrative builds as Mitchell slowly unravels the mystery, pulling all the threads together by the end to reveal the full scope of the chilling tale. 

David Mitchell is the author of Cloud Atlas, which earned him international acclaim. While Slade House is much shorter and more straightforward, it showcases Mitchell’s talent for writing thought-provoking stories.  

This book has a bit of a 'Shirley Jackson meets Harry Potter' vibe, blending gothic horror with a touch of the fantastical. If you’re a fan of either, you’ll likely enjoy this read. It’s not my usual genre, but the glowing reviews piqued my curiosity. I’m glad I read it, even if it didn’t completely blow my socks off like it has for many others.  

That said, the book’s format is clever. Each chapter feels like a self-contained short story, yet they’re all woven together by the sinister happenings at Slade House. It’s a creative way to build suspense and keep us readers guessing. The gothic atmosphere is also spot-on—dark, mysterious, and just the right amount of creepy.  

If you’re in the mood for a haunting tale that’s both eerie and inventive, you'll be happy you read this one!

If you’re a fan of historical fiction with a supernatural twist, this one might just pique your interest. Set in the early 1900s, the story follows Adelaide Henry, a Black woman fleeing her troubled past in California for the remote, harsh landscapes of Montana. All she takes with her is a mysterious steamer trunk that she never lets out of her sight—and for good reason. What’s inside is more than a mere possession; it’s a dark secret that Adelaide must confront as she tries to build a new life on the frontier. 

Victor LaValle blends historical fiction and magical realism in a way that brings the Wild West to life while adding an eerie, otherworldly layer. The story explores themes of survival, community, and the burdens we carry, both literal and metaphorical. It’s an intriguing premise, but I have to admit—I’m not the biggest fan of mixing historical fiction with magical realism. While I appreciated the historical backdrop, the supernatural elements gave the story an odd, almost disjointed feel. I suspect that’s what kept me at a bit of a distance, though I can see how other readers might find it compelling. 

One thing I truly appreciated, though, was the book’s symbolism. The “demon” in the story was such a powerful metaphor for the baggage we all carry—whether it’s guilt, grief, or fear—and how confronting it can lead to freedom or destruction, depending on how we approach it. I also loved that the cast of primary characters was almost entirely women, which felt refreshing for a frontier tale. The book touches on issues like gender roles, race, and independence in ways that feel subtle yet impactful. 

A fun tidbit about the author: Victor LaValle is known for his ability to mix horror, fantasy, and social commentary seamlessly, and his novel The Changeling earned him widespread acclaim. LaValle’s knack for crafting stories that feel both timeless and unique shines through in Lone Women, even if the magical realism wasn’t entirely my cup of tea. 

If you enjoy stories that challenge genre conventions and tackle weighty themes with a touch of the supernatural, Lone Women might be worth a read. For me, while it didn’t quite hit all the right notes, I still came away appreciating its creativity and the thought-provoking way it explored what it means to be burdened—and ultimately, unburdened.  

Way to dry and zero emotional connection 

Couldn’t get into the character and it was all about her. 

Too much of a guy’s book…at least in the beginning 

Too many unrelatable cultural and religious references