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justinkhchen's reviews
513 reviews
Note to Self by Connor Franta
3.0
3 stars
I wouldn't call myself a die-hard Connor Franta fan, but from following his IG and casually checking out his YouTube videos form time to time, he seems to be one of the few YouTube-started personalities who remains humble, and genuinely connected with the world around him. This collection of personal essay, poetry, and photography wholeheartedly reflects that.
To support his content, I pre-ordered this back in 2017, but only got to reading it this year (2020), and the lag in time does somehow affect my overall enjoyment. Phrasing it in a positive light, it's a time capsule, but it also means, the book is now a little dated. In a world where we can engage with its author on a day-to-day basis, Note to Self's central theme of mental recovery (heavily referencing his breakup at the time), and the collection of color-saturated visuals (that was THE aesthetic in the late 2010s) feel irrelevant; both Connor and the world has since moved on.
Unexpectedly, I find the poetry the most enjoyable; it is the most 'timeless' and universally applicable content here. The self-reflecting essays are fine, but they don't dive deep into the subject matter they are discussing, so unless you are aware (or still remember at this point) the events around that time period, consuming them alone lack the emotional punch to resonate.
Overall, it was a fine, if at time shallow, dive into the mind of a 25-year-old Connor Franta. I'll be curious to see if someday he will try his hand at a poetry collection, or even fiction.
I wouldn't call myself a die-hard Connor Franta fan, but from following his IG and casually checking out his YouTube videos form time to time, he seems to be one of the few YouTube-started personalities who remains humble, and genuinely connected with the world around him. This collection of personal essay, poetry, and photography wholeheartedly reflects that.
To support his content, I pre-ordered this back in 2017, but only got to reading it this year (2020), and the lag in time does somehow affect my overall enjoyment. Phrasing it in a positive light, it's a time capsule, but it also means, the book is now a little dated. In a world where we can engage with its author on a day-to-day basis, Note to Self's central theme of mental recovery (heavily referencing his breakup at the time), and the collection of color-saturated visuals (that was THE aesthetic in the late 2010s) feel irrelevant; both Connor and the world has since moved on.
Unexpectedly, I find the poetry the most enjoyable; it is the most 'timeless' and universally applicable content here. The self-reflecting essays are fine, but they don't dive deep into the subject matter they are discussing, so unless you are aware (or still remember at this point) the events around that time period, consuming them alone lack the emotional punch to resonate.
Overall, it was a fine, if at time shallow, dive into the mind of a 25-year-old Connor Franta. I'll be curious to see if someday he will try his hand at a poetry collection, or even fiction.
Killing Commendatore by Haruki Murakami
4.0
4 stars
The overall experience of reading Killing Commendatore, for someone who has been a fan of Murakami's past work, would be like slipping into a well-loved sweater—familiar and cozy.
There are a lot of returning elements: male protagonist in his mid-30s, detailed passage about cooking, specific music references (you can easily generate a Spotify playlist from his novels), and explicit, yet lyrical depiction of sex. I actually appreciate these recycled motifs as they act as security blanket of sort—creating a familiar foundation for the more fantastical elements.
This is definitely a more leisurely-paced Murakami novel, which I enjoy in parts, particularly the first portion with all the portrait sessions. Though repetitive as a narrative device, it remains a joy to read because the characters get opportunities to develop, and lot of intriguing subject matters (such as the concept of reality) get brought up and discussed. However, when the narrative shifts in its last third, from a contemplative character studies, to a more magic-laden fantasy, the pacing sometimes lacks punch, and the story feels like it's losing steam, when it should be at its surrealist peak.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed Killing Commendatore—at this point of Haruki Murakami's writing career, he has developed a consistent style/story universe that his fanbase will recognize and feel nostalgic to dive into, at the same time adorned it with fully-realized new ideas. Aside from the aforementioned pacing issue. This is Murakami in his top form.
The overall experience of reading Killing Commendatore, for someone who has been a fan of Murakami's past work, would be like slipping into a well-loved sweater—familiar and cozy.
There are a lot of returning elements: male protagonist in his mid-30s, detailed passage about cooking, specific music references (you can easily generate a Spotify playlist from his novels), and explicit, yet lyrical depiction of sex. I actually appreciate these recycled motifs as they act as security blanket of sort—creating a familiar foundation for the more fantastical elements.
This is definitely a more leisurely-paced Murakami novel, which I enjoy in parts, particularly the first portion with all the portrait sessions. Though repetitive as a narrative device, it remains a joy to read because the characters get opportunities to develop, and lot of intriguing subject matters (such as the concept of reality) get brought up and discussed. However, when the narrative shifts in its last third, from a contemplative character studies, to a more magic-laden fantasy, the pacing sometimes lacks punch, and the story feels like it's losing steam, when it should be at its surrealist peak.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed Killing Commendatore—at this point of Haruki Murakami's writing career, he has developed a consistent style/story universe that his fanbase will recognize and feel nostalgic to dive into, at the same time adorned it with fully-realized new ideas. Aside from the aforementioned pacing issue. This is Murakami in his top form.
The Box Man by Kōbō Abe
2.0
2.5 stars
I'm usually down 'out-there' novels that explore the boundary of written word storytelling, but I might have found my boundary with The Box Man; the reading experience was like watching an arthouse film — where you know you should be moved and impressed, but instead you find yourself disengaged and completely at loss.
Perhaps I simply wasn't in the mood for a stream of consciousness narrative — where provocative vignettes remain broken, circling in its own loop, and never build towards a coherent whole.
There are still foundational elements I thoroughly enjoy: the formation of the Box Man is extremely well-realized, and the discussion on being the observer, vs. being observed, is very intriguing. I even appreciate the fragmented narration, up to a point. Oh, and there are some beautiful prose to be found here.
I'm usually down 'out-there' novels that explore the boundary of written word storytelling, but I might have found my boundary with The Box Man; the reading experience was like watching an arthouse film — where you know you should be moved and impressed, but instead you find yourself disengaged and completely at loss.
Perhaps I simply wasn't in the mood for a stream of consciousness narrative — where provocative vignettes remain broken, circling in its own loop, and never build towards a coherent whole.
There are still foundational elements I thoroughly enjoy: the formation of the Box Man is extremely well-realized, and the discussion on being the observer, vs. being observed, is very intriguing. I even appreciate the fragmented narration, up to a point. Oh, and there are some beautiful prose to be found here.
Home Before Dark by Riley Sager
3.0
3 stars
The 'book-within-book' structure turned out to be a pretty clever repackaging of an 'unreliable narrator' story.
I also appreciate the last sentence of the novel brought the whole book full circle and gave context to the opening text. That was a neat touch.
The last 50 pages or so is a roller coaster, very thrilling with the relentless layering of new information. Home Before Dark doesn't end up being a horror novel (more of a mystery thriller with a dash of supernatural), I kind of enjoy this genre-bending turn of events, but I wonder if people would feel being cheated out of a promised haunted house story, based on its promotional materials.
The ending fixed one of my complaints from earlier, which is the mediocrity of the House of Horrors section; looking back through the lens of Ewan Holt writing it in desperation as a cover-up, it made sense why it is filled of haunted house cliches (a wife in insistent denials) and convenient scenarios (the communication with Curtis through the bells was hilariously stupid—and worked perfectly on the first try!).
Even with the clever ending, Home Before Dark still has some lingering issues, with its clunky story logic (the discovery of Dane in the Polaroid is equivalent to the CSI 'Let's Enhance' meme) and inconsistent character development (Maggie often reacts very dramatically for no apparent reason), which is why it sits at a 3 ranking for me overall.
The 'book-within-book' structure turned out to be a pretty clever repackaging of an 'unreliable narrator' story.
I also appreciate the last sentence of the novel brought the whole book full circle and gave context to the opening text. That was a neat touch.
The last 50 pages or so is a roller coaster, very thrilling with the relentless layering of new information. Home Before Dark doesn't end up being a horror novel (more of a mystery thriller with a dash of supernatural), I kind of enjoy this genre-bending turn of events, but I wonder if people would feel being cheated out of a promised haunted house story, based on its promotional materials.
The ending fixed one of my complaints from earlier, which is the mediocrity of the House of Horrors section; looking back through the lens of Ewan Holt writing it in desperation as a cover-up, it made sense why it is filled of haunted house cliches (a wife in insistent denials) and convenient scenarios (the communication with Curtis through the bells was hilariously stupid—and worked perfectly on the first try!).
Even with the clever ending, Home Before Dark still has some lingering issues, with its clunky story logic (the discovery of Dane in the Polaroid is equivalent to the CSI 'Let's Enhance' meme) and inconsistent character development (Maggie often reacts very dramatically for no apparent reason), which is why it sits at a 3 ranking for me overall.
Last Case at a Baggage Auction by Eric J. Guignard
4.0
4 stars
Last Case at a Baggage Auction is a very engrossing mystery/horror novella in the 'haunted object' sub-genre. In this tale the object in question is an antique gramophone accompanied by records of unknown content; the story follows Charlie, an eager vintage collector, and the outlandish effects this object has on the tenants within his hotel-converted apartment building.
Think Japanese horror film Ringu crosses with Indiana Jones—the novels takes its time staging the artifact's disease-like influence with characters' small behavioral peculiarities, until it reaches its sinister climax in the book's last act, which is expertly executed by Eric J. Guignard with his cinematic, out-of-this-world vision. I'm also pleasantly surprised by the revelation of actual historical figure/fact, which grounds the story to reality, and intensifies the horror (also brought me down a rabbit hole Googling more on this subject matter afterward).
At 8 short chapters, I wish we have gotten a little bit more story, particularly between Ch.7 and Ch.8, where the outcome of several characters (and location) remains unresolved. Also due to the condensed novella format, some plot points seem overly convenient: such as the protagonist getting all the useful information through a single resource. Lastly, while the story clearly states it took place in the 60s, during reading it constantly felt like it's set in earlier decades, closer to the 30s-40s. Perhaps this is due to the immediate issue at hand and the prime location (the gramophone and the hotel) being remnants from the earlier time, but I do wonder if there are ways to further solidifies its 1960s time period.
In the end, Last Case at a Baggage Auction was a blast, with an imaginative fact-based hook, and a cast of well-rounded classic mystery characters.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
Last Case at a Baggage Auction is a very engrossing mystery/horror novella in the 'haunted object' sub-genre. In this tale the object in question is an antique gramophone accompanied by records of unknown content; the story follows Charlie, an eager vintage collector, and the outlandish effects this object has on the tenants within his hotel-converted apartment building.
Think Japanese horror film Ringu crosses with Indiana Jones—the novels takes its time staging the artifact's disease-like influence with characters' small behavioral peculiarities, until it reaches its sinister climax in the book's last act, which is expertly executed by Eric J. Guignard with his cinematic, out-of-this-world vision. I'm also pleasantly surprised by the revelation of actual historical figure/fact, which grounds the story to reality, and intensifies the horror (also brought me down a rabbit hole Googling more on this subject matter afterward).
At 8 short chapters, I wish we have gotten a little bit more story, particularly between Ch.7 and Ch.8, where the outcome of several characters (and location) remains unresolved. Also due to the condensed novella format, some plot points seem overly convenient: such as the protagonist getting all the useful information through a single resource. Lastly, while the story clearly states it took place in the 60s, during reading it constantly felt like it's set in earlier decades, closer to the 30s-40s. Perhaps this is due to the immediate issue at hand and the prime location (the gramophone and the hotel) being remnants from the earlier time, but I do wonder if there are ways to further solidifies its 1960s time period.
In the end, Last Case at a Baggage Auction was a blast, with an imaginative fact-based hook, and a cast of well-rounded classic mystery characters.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
A House at the Bottom of a Lake by Josh Malerman
5.0
5 stars
Ripe for discussion, A House at the Bottom of a Lake is an allegorical novella about the loss of innocence through the lens of horror. The surrealist approach might turn off some readers who are expecting a conventional narrative with a tangible villain or explanation, but if you're open to it, you'll be greeted with two relatable protagonists and an out-of-this-world imagination.
This is definitely a situation where the less you know going in, the more rewarding the reading experience will be. The premise follows two teenagers, Amelia and James, as they discover a sunken house at the bottom of a deserted lake. They are drawn to it with unknown fascination, at the same time as their relationship begins to blossom.
Josh Malerman's stream of consciousness writing style works beautifully here, immediately brings to life the youthful, contradicting persona of 17-year-olds. In addition, he constructs scenes vividly, in a fluid, dream-like manner; the happenings inside the sunken house have some of the most memorable moments I've ever read on paper. A novella really is the perfect carrier for this story—long enough to conjure a presence, but still concise without being bogged down by the specifics.
Comparing to cinema, if you are a fan of films such as Darren Aronofsky's Mother! or Ari Aster's Midsommar, that utilize horror tropes to evoke grander story about emotion and human nature, then A House at the Bottom of a Lake should be right up your alley.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
Ripe for discussion, A House at the Bottom of a Lake is an allegorical novella about the loss of innocence through the lens of horror. The surrealist approach might turn off some readers who are expecting a conventional narrative with a tangible villain or explanation, but if you're open to it, you'll be greeted with two relatable protagonists and an out-of-this-world imagination.
This is definitely a situation where the less you know going in, the more rewarding the reading experience will be. The premise follows two teenagers, Amelia and James, as they discover a sunken house at the bottom of a deserted lake. They are drawn to it with unknown fascination, at the same time as their relationship begins to blossom.
Josh Malerman's stream of consciousness writing style works beautifully here, immediately brings to life the youthful, contradicting persona of 17-year-olds. In addition, he constructs scenes vividly, in a fluid, dream-like manner; the happenings inside the sunken house have some of the most memorable moments I've ever read on paper. A novella really is the perfect carrier for this story—long enough to conjure a presence, but still concise without being bogged down by the specifics.
Comparing to cinema, if you are a fan of films such as Darren Aronofsky's Mother! or Ari Aster's Midsommar, that utilize horror tropes to evoke grander story about emotion and human nature, then A House at the Bottom of a Lake should be right up your alley.
***This ARC was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Much appreciated!***
Before She Knew Him by Peter Swanson
4.0
4 stars
Before She Knew Him reminds me structurally of the film Knives Out, where the culprit is revealed very early on in the story; Matthew IS a killer—but that's not the point; the intrigue instead is centered around the cat and mouse chase between the two protagonists, and the unlikely friendship that formed between two people in conflict.
The plot twist, while still remains a satisfying direction, is really not as big of a surprise as the novel made it out to be. For a seasoned thriller reader, the hints along the way are quite explicit at pointing the narrative towards a specific direction, which slightly dampened the impact of the 'reveal'.
Still, Before She Knew Him remains a very cinematic, image-conjuring read; Peter Swanson has crafted two very interesting, dimensional protagonists in Hen and Matthew, and it was a worthwhile journey understanding their inner struggles, past demons, and how their relationship send ripples across the people around them.
Before She Knew Him reminds me structurally of the film Knives Out, where the culprit is revealed very early on in the story; Matthew IS a killer—but that's not the point; the intrigue instead is centered around the cat and mouse chase between the two protagonists, and the unlikely friendship that formed between two people in conflict.
The plot twist, while still remains a satisfying direction, is really not as big of a surprise as the novel made it out to be. For a seasoned thriller reader, the hints along the way are quite explicit at pointing the narrative towards a specific direction, which slightly dampened the impact of the 'reveal'.
Still, Before She Knew Him remains a very cinematic, image-conjuring read; Peter Swanson has crafted two very interesting, dimensional protagonists in Hen and Matthew, and it was a worthwhile journey understanding their inner struggles, past demons, and how their relationship send ripples across the people around them.
Docile by K.M. Szpara
3.0
3.5 stars
The novel's biggest accomplishment lies in its characterization of the dual-protagonists, Elisha and Alex; told through alternating chapter in first-person, K. M. Szpara fluidly bounces between the two unique voices, and effortlessly blurs them when needed as the novel dives into its central theme: the power (and aftermath) of control and manipulation, and just who exactly was on the receiver end.
I enjoy the ambiguity the book reveals to the reader: yes, Elisha is the one explicitly being brainwashed, but at the same time Alex's behavior is also the direct result of being groomed for the convenience of his family legacy, and the expectation associated with his social status.
Beyond the stellar character development, the story as a whole is serviceable, if treading on overly-familiar territory. The futuristic Maryland feels half-baked, with inconsistent world details that sometimes feel too fantastical for an otherwise grounded rendering of the future.
While I was entertained throughout, at 489 pages, it did lose substantial momentum in the last quarter. Personally I think the story reached its emotional peak roughly around page 250; would've been a tighter narrative if it concludes at around 400 pages.
- The novel ends with a lengthy courtroom drama. Unfortunately, since readers have already experienced the events from both Elisha and Alex's perspective, very little is left for expansion; as the result this section feels like a unnecessary recap, and brings the story to a halt.
- On the contrary, with Abigail's condition being a driving force that kick-started the novel, it's resolution was disproportionately convenient—an antidote haphazardly prepared, was proved effective on the first try.
All in all, for a novel that sounds like a sleaze-fest on paper, even with its sci-fi elements a little predictable and under-cooked, Docile turns out to be a very engaging, tenderly written character study.
The novel's biggest accomplishment lies in its characterization of the dual-protagonists, Elisha and Alex; told through alternating chapter in first-person, K. M. Szpara fluidly bounces between the two unique voices, and effortlessly blurs them when needed as the novel dives into its central theme: the power (and aftermath) of control and manipulation, and just who exactly was on the receiver end.
I enjoy the ambiguity the book reveals to the reader: yes, Elisha is the one explicitly being brainwashed, but at the same time Alex's behavior is also the direct result of being groomed for the convenience of his family legacy, and the expectation associated with his social status.
Beyond the stellar character development, the story as a whole is serviceable, if treading on overly-familiar territory. The futuristic Maryland feels half-baked, with inconsistent world details that sometimes feel too fantastical for an otherwise grounded rendering of the future.
While I was entertained throughout, at 489 pages, it did lose substantial momentum in the last quarter. Personally I think the story reached its emotional peak roughly around page 250; would've been a tighter narrative if it concludes at around 400 pages.
Spoiler
- A later relationship Elisha developed with Onyx could've been substantially trimmed down; it was there purely to set up another sex scene, fulfilling the quota. (BTW, the sex/kink aspect is quite well integrated elsewhere in the book, and effectively written.)- The novel ends with a lengthy courtroom drama. Unfortunately, since readers have already experienced the events from both Elisha and Alex's perspective, very little is left for expansion; as the result this section feels like a unnecessary recap, and brings the story to a halt.
- On the contrary, with Abigail's condition being a driving force that kick-started the novel, it's resolution was disproportionately convenient—an antidote haphazardly prepared, was proved effective on the first try.
All in all, for a novel that sounds like a sleaze-fest on paper, even with its sci-fi elements a little predictable and under-cooked, Docile turns out to be a very engaging, tenderly written character study.