** Peach Blossom Spring by Melissa Fu

Peach Blossom Spring unfolds in two parts: the childhood of the hero, which unfolds in a China in turmoil, first because of a war with Japan and then as part of WWII, and later during the communist revolution, and then his adulthood, when he moves to the US and eventually settles there but refuses anything to do with China.
I found the first part to be just about perfectly rendered, through the eyes of a child, with vivid images, nonstop action, and perfectly observed emotions. The second part I felt was much more laborious. There’s too much explaining of what’s going on and not enough telling. There’s the big, unexplained mystery of why he shuts off his daughter so much, in contrast to how his mother cleverly involved him into everything while still managing to protect him–and why he seems content to interact with his mother so little, even within the strictures of history. Weird!

*** A Promise of Ankles by Alexander McCall Smith

A Promise of Ankles sees my favorite character, seven-year old Bertie, finally able to live in Glasgow, temporarily, along with the usual assortment of characters. More attentive editing would help cut out repetitive descriptions and one big name error, but it’s all very charming, as always.

* Under The Skin by Linda Villarosa

Under the Skin: The Hidden Toll of Racism on American Lives and on the Health of Our Nation makes two very important points: that African-American health outcomes are scandalously lousy–“even if” we remove the effects of education and poverty (it seems rather despicable to remove them, right); and that the gap may well be due to what the author calls, very aptly, weathering, that is, the added wear and tear of living under the constant stress of racism.

If these two points were made in a short essay, it would be emotionally and rationally compelling. Unfortunately, the author, a journalist, has never seen a life story she does not want to share, at length, or considered that sticking to the topic may actually help the argument. So we get plenty of tragic stories that show how badly African-American are treated by the healthcare system, but not necessarily why they are treated in a worse manner than anyone else, and we also get lengthy digressions on all kinds of other topics, which certainly show that there are many problems in the world, but could we perhaps stick to the (dire enough on its own) main topic?

* Portrait of a Thief by Grace Li

Portrait of a Thief could be an entertaining caper about five friends robbing art museums, and we would excuse the gaping holes in the plot. It could be a psychological exploration of the diversity of the Chinese-American experience, and we would excuse the rigid, repetitive format. It could be a defense of art appropriated under doubtful conditions, and we would excuse the wooden, unidimensional characters. But it does not succeed at any of these goals and we are left with five mostly boring characters being rewarded with small fortunes for committing improbable crimes that seem to generate no moral questioning whatsoever. It’s a complete no-go for me.

** Left on Tenth by Delia Ephron

Left on Tenth: A Second Chance describes the author’s unexpectedly finding love again after her husband’s death and almost simultaneously having to undertake a bone marrow transplant. It turns out that new love at age 70+ is very similar to teenage love–and similarly boring to bystanders. Transplants are a special kind of hell, and neither fame, money, a vast network of friends and friends with influence, and, apparently, a great health insurance can protect from an excruciating year. I found it very interesting that she should share many intimate emails afterwards, but would not disclose the illness while it was happening except for a very small circle.

** The Heartbreak by Florence

Using the well-worn format of personal-experience-breeds-investigation-of-topic, Heartbreak: A Personal and Scientific Journey explores what happens after a breakup, and what can be done to alleviate the pain. Yes, there is a heroic physical feat a la Wild, and yes, there are several overly precious snowflake moments, but the writing carries us through the surprisingly real unhealthy consequences of being dumped, and the benefits of using nature and awe to get better.

** The Bangalore Detectives Club by Harini Dagendra

The Bangalore Detectives Club stars a somewhat-liberated doctor’s wife who, in the 1920s, sets about to solve a murder committed at a snooty social club where she and her husband are attending a party. She dares to visit the hovel of her milkman. She dares to talk to prostitutes and to buy a swimsuit. It would all be pretty charming if the author did not heavily underscore each and every “daring” behavior. In the end, it’s so sad to think that the doctor’s wife could not have gotten to the bottom of the issue without her galant husband intervening. Not quite the liberation we could hope for.

** Tasha by Brian Morton

Tasha is the author’s mother, who, after a life of service and activism, is losing her mind. Her children try a retirement home, which she cannot abide. They hire in-home aides, who alternatively abandon and berate her. It’s all very sad. The author seems to be repeatedly surprised that there is so little help available for frail seniors. Perhaps he had not been keeping up with the news?

* The Midcoast by Adam White

The Midcoast could be a fun beach read for East Coast urbanites pining after idyllic vacations in Maine. Instead, we get an overwrought police procedural within a family saga, with a remarkable lack of plot twists since we know from the start that the Thatch family could not have made its fortune lobstering, as they claim. So we have to wade through tedious sports parents (women’s lacrosse: it’s the East Coast), tedious small-town politics, and tedious drug trafficking stories before we are done with the cute Maine town and its tourists. Add a few head-scratchers (what wife would ask no questions when her husband disappear for an entire night and returns with a busted car and a concussion?) and you will choose to read something else.

* The Final Case by David Guterson

By the author of the wonderful Snow Falling on Cedars? The Final Case describes the last case that an aging attorney tackles, from the perspective of his son who chauffeurs him around. The case, an appalling string of abuse ending in a child’s death, is described in great detail but at a remove. It seems that the old man’s decline is more interesting to the narrator but if so, why spend so much time on the case? (I was not a fan of other books by Guterson.)