Here is the last character profile from my upcoming book Out of Ashes.
If Gus is a long-simmering volcano, and Minh a crack of a whip, Tony Giovanni is a fireworks finale. When angered, his jaw clenches, his round head reddens like a ripe tomato, and his bulging muscles threaten to tear through the T-shirt stretched over his stocky frame. Just as a firework explodes with fury and dissipates in an instant, Tony is as quick to forgive and forget as he is to get angry.
A third-generation Italian who lives amidst a swarm of siblings and cousins, Tony fixes anything with moving parts using nothing but a “good old-fashioned Leatherman.” When he’s not threatening to punch Gus’s face in, “Love Doctor Tony” pounds him with his patented dating rules. Some may call him simple, but Tony couldn’t care less what other people think. He moseys through life with a tender heart, a crooked smile, and a clenched fist.
My novel, Out of Ashes, comes out August 4th 2020. Here is a look at Gus, the disgruntled genius.
Despite what his Germanic name suggests, Gustaf Hein hails from the UK. The son of parents with multiple doctorates each, he was top of his class at an exclusive boarding school until his parents’ scandal at Oxford launched them across the pond. Accustomed to debating the finer points of astrophysics with his peers, Gus now walks the halls with guys who say “dude” and make fart jokes.
Girls may swoon at the sight of tall-blonde-and-handsome’s deep blue eyes, but as soon as he opens his mouth, they scatter like a flock of birds after a gunshot. His tone spews exasperation, and no one understands a word of his prodigious vocabulary. No one except Cathryn. Despite her quirks, Cathryn translates what he says with the naturalness of a bilingual.
To a guy whose expression alternates between a derisive sneer and a disgruntled scowl, Cathryn’s kindness is as foreign as driving on the right side of the road. His stoicism masks a simmering temper, but he doesn’t waste time believing in love.
Then again, Cathryn’s smile is evidence for a lot of things he doesn’t believe.
My novel, Out of Ashes, comes out August 4th, 2020. Read on to learn more about this tough artist.
If Minh’s parents didn’t so detest swearing, the back of her wheelchair would sport a bumper sticker that read Bitch on Wheels. The only Asian in a kaleidoscope of multi-racial siblings adopted into the Jones family, Minh has been Cathryn’s pillar of strength since the day they met in kindergarten, and she has no qualms with rolling over toes to protect her friend.
While Cathryn relishes 10,000 words, Minh prefers one picture. Whether inked onto the human body, sprayed onto the side of a building, or perched within a gilded frame, Minh is a fan of all things art.
Arguing with her is like trying to chisel stone with a piece of cooked spaghetti. Right or wrong, she never breaks. Pity is an intolerable offense she corrects with one crack of her whip-like tongue. She never cries, never surrenders, and never turns her back on a friend.
If you haven’t heard, my debut novel, Out of Ashes, will be out August 4th 2020. Here is a look at my main character.
Cathryn Banks has mastered the art of hiding in plain sight by leveraging her thin frame to slip beneath people’s scrutiny. A “human encyclopedia,” Cathryn collects historical quotes the way a small boy collects baseball cards. When her teachers ask her a direct question, she fiddles with the end of her dust-colored ponytail and whispers the correct answer. At first glance, Cathryn Banks does not seem “heroic” enough to be a heroine, but first glances aren’t known for their accuracy.
When faced with an impossible choice, Cathryn does not hesitate to make sacrifices for those she loves. As her world darkens, she perseveres one day, one step, one breath at a time. Cathryn Banks may not seem heroic, but her quiet strength defies first glances.
This book ought to be required reading. It’s short, fast-paced, and thought provoking without being accusatory. The contrast between the girls’ perspectives make for an engaging read. Fans of The Hate U Give will love it.
I’m Not Dying with You Tonight by Kimberly Jones and Gilly Segal
This book is especially relevant given what has been going on in the US and around the world these past couple months. I first heard about it during an online writers’ conference and was bummed that my library didn’t have a paperback copy. Lucky for me, they had the ebook. This was a quick read—perfect for squeezing between other duties.
“Over the course of one night, two girls with two very different backgrounds must rely on each other to get through the violent race riot that has enveloped their city.
Lena has her killer style, her awesome boyfriend, and a plan. She knows she’s going to make it big. Campbell, on the other hand, is just trying to keep her head down and get through the year at her new school.
When both girls attend the Friday-night football game, what neither expects is for everything to descend into sudden mass chaos. Chaos born from violence and hate. Chaos that unexpectedly throws them together.
They aren’t friends. They hardly understand the other’s point of view. But none of that matters when the city is up in flames, and they only have each other to rely on if they’re going to survive the night.”
Lena has a big mouth and a bigger attitude. She’s fashionable, opinionated, and not even a riot can stand between her and her goals. Campbell is quiet, grieving the loss of her old life—friends, track team, living with her mom—and struggling to adapt to her new reality.
The story focuses almost exclusively on these two characters, which poses the risk of making them archetypes for their respective races: the sassy and ambitious African American girl and the mousy and naïve Caucasian one. The authors avoid falling into typecasting by giving each character at least one non-stereotypical characteristic: Campbell is not rich, and Lena is not as well-versed in “the hood” as Campbell assumes.
I agree with the authors’ choice to focus on Lena and Campbell because the strength of the novel is their contrasting perspectives. For example, Campbell views the police as saviors, while Lena knows they will inflame already raging tempers. Contrasts like these make the story compelling.
The book alternates between Lena and Campbell’s perspective as the riot begins and they try to navigate their way to safety. They each have separate goals. Lena wants nothing more than to reach her boyfriend, and Campbell needs to check on her father’s hardware store. They stick together despite their differences, even though every step they take brings them further into trouble.
When describing the riot, the authors did an excellent job keeping the focus on the individual experiences of their protagonists. When I read The Hate U Give, I got lost in the chaos at the end. While Johnson and Segal describe the craziness of the riot, they keep the focus on Campbell and Lena’s experience of it, and only mention the parts that hinder their progress.
Structurally, the book is short and simple. I read it in about three hours (and I read slower than a teenager cleans their room). The plot moves at a good clip, and, again, the chief strength is the contrasting perspectives.
One thing that needed more development was the situation with Lena’s boyfriend. Many other characters expressed a lack of faith in him, and while he does some noble things toward the end, I didn’t feel the authors resolved the subplot. By the end, I couldn’t predict Lena’s next steps in her relationship. Would she stick with her boyfriend and prove to all the haters what a good guy he was, or would she dump him because he isn’t the guy she thought? His actions throughout the book left me with neutral feelings toward him.
While I don’t like the loose end of that subplot, I do appreciate that Lena and Campbell don’t magically become best friends. Both girls change their perspective of the world, but the book doesn’t end with a kumbaya moment.
In keeping with the short length and laser focus of the book, the prose was sparse. The authors included few descriptive details of the characters and often relied on their names (e.g. Big Baby) or dialogue to trigger the readers imagination. I would have liked more; I had trouble keeping Lena’s boyfriend’s and cousin’s friends straight.
This is nitpicky, but I disagree with the authors’ choice to italicize the word ghetto. I think any modern American reader understands what that word means in the context of a race riot. To me, italicizing that word signals a foreign meaning and brings it back to its original context: Nazi Germany. Perhaps not all this book’s readers are also into WWII fiction as I am, but for me, italicizing the word was jarring.
Writing Style Highlight
Now that I’ve nit-picked, I want to highlight something the authors did well: the African American Vernacular English—AAE—in Lena’s dialogue and prose. For those who are unfamiliar, AAE is the dialect reporters refer to when they say Obama slips into “Black Speak.”
If Kimberly Jones isn’t a native speaker of this dialect, then she has certainly studied it. The habitual be, copula deletion, negation concord—it’s all there.
I know I’m falling into an all-out nerd-gush, but so often this dialect is reduced into a sprinkling of “Girl, please,” or butchered into a lawless mess. To see such a robust, grammatically accurate depiction makes my speech therapist’s heart all sorts of happy. Seriously, speech pathology graduate students should study Lena’s chapters. We’d have a lot fewer misdiagnoses.
I haven’t geeked out about a character’s dialogue this much since Thanhha Lai’s “Vietnamese in English.” I can’t overestimate how often authors get AAE wrong. Lena’s perspective was the highlight of the book for me.
I love the cover. I think it succinctly communicates the theme.
This book ought to be required reading, and not just for speech pathology students. It’s short, fast-paced, and thought provoking without being accusatory. The contrast between the girls’ perspectives—including in the writing style—make for an engaging read. Fans of The Hate U Give will love it. To be honest, I liked this one better.
For those who seek a deeply emotional and inspiring experience, I highly recommend.
“For the past five years, Hayley Kincaid and her father, Andy, have been on the road, never staying long in one place as he struggles to escape the demons that have tortured him since his return from Iraq. Now they are back in the town where he grew up so Hayley can attend school. Perhaps, for the first time, Hayley can have a normal life, put aside her own painful memories, even have a relationship with Finn, the hot guy who obviously likes her but is hiding secrets of his own. Will being back home help Andy’s PTSD, or will his terrible memories drag him to the edge of hell, and drugs push him over?” — Amazon Description *
Characters and Plot
As a Minnesota-nice, passive-aggressive people pleaser, I find it difficult to empathize with rebel protagonists. The love story subplot—bitter girl surrounds her heart with walls as thick as they are high; persistent nice guy breaks through them—is one I’ve seen before, most recently in A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi**.
However, Laurie Halse Anderson (LHA) creates empathy for Hayley more effectively than Mafi does for Shirin. While I initially found Hayley’s attitude off-putting, she and Finn were so “adorkable” I couldn’t help rooting for them.
As part of my graduate schooling, I had the privilege to train in the Minneapolis VA Hospital. The VA provided counseling for PTSD along with occupational, physical, and speech therapy. The experience gave me a profound respect for the men and women who serve our country, and a deeper understanding of the effects of that service on the body and the mind. If you would like to learn more, I recommend reading Once a Warrior—Always a Warrior by Charles Hoge.
LHA depicts PTSD with heart-wrenching realism. Hayley constantly evaluates her dad for signs of flashbacks. The story line dives into dark moments of violence, but pops up for a breath of hope often enough to make the reader cry out when it doesn’t last. Between the “adorkable” love story and the progressive intensity of the PTSD, the story is more than an emotional rollercoaster; it’s a race through a zero-gravity obstacle course where the reader is the passenger and the pilot is blindfolded.
More than an emotional rollercoaster; it’s a race through a zero-gravity obstacle course at Warp 9, where the reader is the passenger and the pilot is blindfolded. #TheImpossibleKnifeofMemory
My only critique is that the author explains Hayley’s fear of water, but doesn’t divulge the history behind her hatred of the mall. One scene suggests she’s claustrophobic, but I would like to know more.
LHA’s writing style is the opposite of my own. I gravitate towards long sentences that flow across the page. Her prose is punchy and precise. No word joins the others without first proving its worth.
Her unique descriptions characterize her protagonist well. For example, she describes one of Hayley’s classmates as “the same size and shape as a porta potty.” The witty repartee between Hayley in Finn is what won me to Hayley’s side. It was as though they belonged to a linguistic genre all their own.
In short, LHA’s writing is masterful. She could write about people watching paint dry, and I would read 1,000 pages.
Laurie Halse Anderson’s writing is masterful. She could write about people watching paint dry, and I would read 1,000 pages. @halseanderson
Given the subject, this book is not for readers who want to curl up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and eat Christmas cookies. For those who seek a deeply emotional and inspiring experience, I highly recommend.
If you enjoy the music of a well-written metaphor, can pass hours lost in the world of a book, and stop to smell the roses while you read, I recommend this book.
Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens
I read so much hype about this book. It popped up in multiple book blogs I follow, including the Spanish ones, where the book’s title is Niña Salvaje, “Wild Girl.” Needless to say, I was thrilled when my aunt gifted me a copy.
Back Cover Description
“For years, rumors of the “Marsh Girl” have haunted Barkley Cove, a quiet town on the North Carolina coast. So in late 1969, when handsome Chase Andrews is found dead, the locals immediately suspect Kya Clark, the so-called Marsh Girl.
But Kya is not what they say. Sensitive and intelligent, she has survived for years alone in the marsh that she calls home, finding friends in the gulls and lessons in the sand. Then the time comes when she yearns to be touched and loved. When two young men from town become intrigued by her wild beauty, Kya opens herself to a new life—until the unthinkable happens.”
Kya’s perspective is engaging and endearing. Owns builds sympathy for her by describing her less-than-ideal home life. The story portrays her ascent to adulthood with such intimacy that the reader understands why she prefers nature to “civilization.”
Her two love interests, Tate and Chase, contrast each other nicely. I rather liked her relationship with Tate. Unlike a lot of love story subplots, they had common ground on which to base their relationship. Chase falls into the typical “star quarterback” stereotype, but Owens gets away with it by contrasting him with Tate. The other towns folk are exactly the sort of quirky one expects from a small town.
The story progresses in parallel timelines—one relating the murder-mystery, the other Kya’s coming-of-age. To me, the murder-mystery lacked the intense “who-done-it” factor that characterizes that genre, but the main point of the book was Kya’s life story. The murder-mystery served to highlight the town’s prejudice, Kya’s motives, and Kya’s development into a successful Marsh expert.
“Let me know what you think of the ending,” my grandmother said when she saw the book on my coffee table. She didn’t like it. It wasn’t quite the twist I expected, but to be honest, I have no strong feelings about it. The book would have been fine without it, but isn’t destroyed by its presence.
This is not the book to squeeze into the 5-minute breaks in your day. Where the Crawdads Sing is a story to be enjoyed while basking in the sunshine at the beach or while curled next to a fireplace, snowed in for the weekend. It took me a while to get into this story because I had just finished a heart-pounding WWII tale.
Owen’s prose is heavily descriptive, but not in a bad way. Her metaphors fit the setting and are so creative they resemble poetry. While the WWII tale shot words out like bullets from an automatic rifle, Owens words languish on the page, making the reader want to savor them before moving on.
I am glad I opted to read this book in English. I would have been lost in all that descriptive language had I read Niña Salvaje. I also think the cultural language of the Southern small town would be lost in translation.
One thing I noted was the author enjoyed describing Kya’s food and clothing in detail. Though they made me hungry, the food descriptions added detail to the setting. The descriptions of clothing helped show Kya aging (skirts fell first to her ankles, then her knees, etc), but struck me as odd.
Aside from a couple instances of head-hopping mid-paragraph, Owens writing was a joy to read.
I wish the girl on the cover drove a shallow boat instead of paddling a canoe. One of the poems in the book mentions a girl in a canoe, but Kya’s boat and its appearance are more relevant to the plot.
If you enjoy the music of a well-written metaphor, can pass hours lost in the world of a book, and stop to smell the roses while you read, I recommend this book. Rather than the heart-pounding staccato of more thrilling tales, this book reads like a legato violin solo. A nice change of pace that I wouldn’t have regretted purchasing if I didn’t have generous family members.
Butterfly Yellow is a beautifully written and emotionally moving story of redemption and reconnection. I loved every word, and highly recommend it.
Butterfly Yellow by Thanhhà Lḁi
I’m a sucker for books that feature diverse protagonists, especially if the plot involves culture clash. When I saw this in the store, I couldn’t resist. It did not disappoint.
“In the final days of the Vietnam War, Hằng takes her little brother, Linh, to the airport, determined to find a way to America, a place of freedom and wonder. In a split second, Linh is ripped from her arms—and Hằng is left behind in a war-torn country.
Six years later, Hằng has made the harrowing journey as a refugee from Vietnam to Texas, a flat, endless expanse dotted with twisty mesquite trees and oil fields. She doesn’t know how she will find her little brother in this foreign land filled with people who speak hissy, snaky English. Then she meets LeeRoy, a city boy with big rodeo dreams.
Hằng is overjoyed when she and Linh are finally reunited. But her heart is crushed when she realizes that he doesn’t remember her, their family, or Vietnam. The distance between them feels greater than ever. But Hằng has come so far and will do anything to bridge the gap.”
Hằng is a spunky young woman whose determination brings her through the horrors of refugee life to her brother, a true role model for any age. Plagued by guilt, haunted by trauma, and filled with longing, her character garners immediate empathy without being piteous.
LeeRoy is a wannabe cowboy who always thinks of food. At first, his character came off as corny, but his small acts of heroism and kindness won me over by the end. The contrast between Hằng and LeeRoy provides a beautiful example of people reaching each other across cultures. So different, yet perfect friends. Her stubbornness and his cowboy grit collide in adorable spats. By the end, I loved them both.
Overall, the story was well-paced and kept me engaged throughout. I like that the book begins with Hằng finding her brother, and the story revolves around her difficulty in reconnecting with him. The challenges that arrive after escaping a war zone are an often untold part of the refugee story.
My one critique is that I waited the entire book to learn what happened to Hằng on the island, and the author dumped it all in a series of flashbacks. The story was worth the wait, but I wish she had sprinkled more of it in sooner. I like how LeeRoy supports her during that time, and I love that he never asks her to explain.
I love reading books by poets. I’ve read several by Diane Ackerman and love how descriptive she is. Lḁi’s prose is so full of imagery that reading it is like looking at a painting. Beautiful and imaginative, her descriptions reflect Hằng’s perspective. Reading from Hằng’s point of view makes Texas feel like an alien land, exactly how it seems to Hằng. LeeRoy’s perspective is much more down-to-earth, and I love that Lḁi includes so many forced westernisms for the wannabe cowboy.
The best part, for me, about Lḁi’s writing is her inclusion of Vietnamese and her use of English-in-Vietnamese spellings. Hằng’s dialogue and thoughts seem that much more real. Lḁi uses LeeRoy to “translate” in a way that naturally fits with the flow of the story, not forced. Everything is easy to understand, yet the writing itself adds to the sense of two cultures colliding. As a bilingual speech therapist, I could gush for pages about how much I loved this, but you get the idea.
Butterfly Yellow is a beautifully written and emotionally moving story of redemption and reconnection. I loved every word, and highly recommend it.
I read an early version of this book, and I eagerly awaited the release of this version so I could start hawking it to all my friends.
Fates of Ruin by Jo-Anne Tomlinson
I read an early version of this book, and I eagerly awaited the release of this version so I could start hawking it to all my friends. I’m also a huge fan of her space opera, which is linked below.
“Jahna Mornglow is a thief and a liar, a half-breed of the ostracized Narcean race, born with the gift of fates. With no kindred to call her own, Jahna lives as an outcast, placing her faith in the dagger and the coin rather than family or the silent gods that have abandoned them.
But not all is what it seems. Her world is in danger and when the fates within her awaken, Jahna finds herself the banished heir of a kingdom close to ruin.
The land of Ardentia is vast and magical, carved by the Celestial gods and ruled by their mortal descendants. With a once great king mysteriously ill, a thousand-years’ war raging in the east and whispers of an ancient evil’s return, Ardentia’s salvation now rests on the shoulders of Jahna and her guild of young outsiders.
Enemies will be unmasked, secrets will be revealed and a fragmented artefact will breathe new life into the myths of old.
Spurred by vengeance and grief, does Jahna possess the resolve to keep safe a world that has shunned and discarded her?”
Tomlinson has a gift for crafting engaging, three-dimensional characters. The witty repartee between them is entertaining without feeling forced. Many modern movies comprise one long action scene with a few lines of awkward comic relief. While this book’s plot is filled with action, the characters’ interaction is so genuine you come to view them as your new best friends. Furthermore, Tomlinson goes beyond the usual orcs and elves to create unique races and creatures.
Jahna, Lilac, and Silko are three misfits disappointed with their lack of progress toward their dreams. As a millennial who too-recently went through the “quarter-life crisis,” I could relate. Jahna’s unknown past comes crashing into the present, launching her and her friends on a quest to claim revenge, and maybe save the kingdom in the process.
Jahna struggles with her biracial identity as her unfamiliar Narcean heritage continues to surface along the journey. She is a strong female lead, but vulnerable enough to gain sympathy.
I love Lilac because she subverts a trope I would like to see extinct: the sexy ninja trope. You know, the 90-pound supermodel in tight leather and heels who takes down six marines and whose hair—which she didn’t even bother to put into a ponytail—looks like she just walked out of a salon rather than a fist fight.
Lilac, however, is a muscular brute of a woman described such that I totally believe she can rip a man in half with her bare hands. She sweats, belches, and gets covered in mud. She keeps her hair pulled back in braids and wears practical footwear. I adore her.
In the earlier version of this book, Silko fell into another trope I despise: the wussy academic. We’ve all seen the four-eyed geeks who have to take a puff from their inhalers before squeaking out a line of comic relief. Being married to an engineer, I like to point out that statistically , people with a high IQ are in better physical condition than those with a lower IQ.
Fortunately, as the author aged up her characters, Silko gained more of a backbone. He is still a physical weakling—a nice contrast to Lilac, and a logical result of his obsession with books—but he speaks his mind more and uses his intelligence as the weapon it is. This first book in the series suggests a strong growth arc for him, so I’m okay with him starting out as a coward. This type of physically weak smart guy, I can handle-one with potential for growth and whose role in the plot goes beyond comic relief.
This plot well paced for the modern attention span. It is not for readers who enjoy stopping and smelling the roses. Tolkien fans will not find pages of poetry, invented languages, or interminable stretches of historic backstory. It starts with action and continues to hop from predicaments to predicament as the protagonists push toward their goal.
Beyond the usual “ambushed by bad guys and have to fight their way out,” the protagonists face interesting challenges that require them to rely on each other’s unique strengths to overcome.
As I mentioned before, Tomlinson has a gift for character creation, particularly with dialogue. She provides enough description and backstory for the reader to immerse themselves in the story world without bogging down the pacing. I’m not a fan of cliff-hanger endings, but as I know I’ll buy the next book anyway, I’m okay with this one.
I like the new cover design, but I don’t think the title was emphasized enough throughout the story. Perhaps the next book in the series will make it more clear.
If you seek an escape into an exciting world with interesting people, look no further. The Fates of Ruin is an engaging read that will have you thinking about its characters even as you make your morning coffee run.
This book popped up repeatedly on bestseller and recommendation lists. I had to discover the basis for the hype.
The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
This book popped up repeatedly on bestseller and recommendation lists. I had to discover the basis for the hype.
Back Cover Description
“Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed.
Soon afterward, his death is a national headline. Some are calling him a thug, maybe even a drug dealer and a gangbanger. Protesters are taking to the streets in Khalil’s name. Some cops and the local drug lord try to intimidate Starr and her family. What everyone wants to know is: what really went down that night? And the only person alive who can answer that is Starr.
But what Starr does—or does not—say could upend her community. It could also endanger her life.”
Starr is a relatable teenager in that she is still figuring out who she is and where she belongs. While not everybody has lived between two different socioeconomic classes, most people have felt they didn’t belong. I like that the author didn’t put Starr in a single box; instead, she showed us many aspects of Starr’s personality. It was as if Starr says “This is me too. Why should I have to choose?”
The other characters were unique without be cartoonish. I particularly liked Seven’s mother’s small act of redemption toward the end.
I usually read at a glacial pace, stopping to savor the story as it unfolds, but this book’s pacing is like a galloping horse—steady and strong. Thomas strikes the perfect balance between increasing tension and allowing enough time for development and emotional resonance. The focus on Starr, her family, her choices, and her reactions kept me engaged until the end when everything devolved into a riot. I couldn’t relate to a crowd of angry people and had trouble suspending my disbelief after that. A bit too crazy for a passive-aggressive, people-pleasing Midwesterner like me.
I appreciate the author’s explaining the rap that made the story’s the theme. As a classical music fan, I would have been lost without that.
The strength of Thomas’s writing lies in her delving into ambiguity and forcing the reader to sit there, uncomfortable. She portrays life for the complex, messy thing it is, and I admire her for that. Few books have characters as flawed but human as hers.
One masterfully written scene was when Starr’s family got together to watch the basketball game. Rivalries reared their ugly heads, and each person had their own win-ensuring rituals. I don’t give a rat’s left toe about basketball, but if you replace the sport with hockey and the family with a bunch of sun-starved Minnesotans, this scene could have come straight from my childhood. What family can’t relate to friendly competition?
Pairing such a relatable family event with something so tragic, so wrong, made for a powerful read. This wasn’t my favorite book I’ve ever read, but it was worth reading for that scene alone.
The Hate U Give speaks to a relevant issue in modern American culture and opens the door for discussion. Thomas’s prose didn’t make me swoon like say, Laurie Halse Anderson’s or Diane Ackerman’s, but it was solid, and many of her scenes packed an emotional punch.
Worth the hype?
I didn’t find this book as earth-shattering as other reviewers, but I enjoyed it, and I admit it made me think.
Worth the money/time to read?
Yes. I checked a copy out from the library, but purchasing it wouldn’t be a waste. It makes a good discussion book, so it’d be good to loan to a friend.