Link: amzn.to/JJByc3

Grade: B+

L/C Ratio: 40/60
(This means I estimate the author devoted 40% of his effort to creating a literary work of art and 60% of his effort to creating a commercial bestseller.) 

Thematic Breakdown:
30% - Life of a detainee
25% - NYC fashion industry
20% - Humor
20% - Relationships
5% - Politics 

I don’t typically consider suspected terrorists to be a source of comedy. Then again, nothing about Gilvarry’s debut novel is very typical – and that’s what makes it so refreshing. The flashback approach is well-crafted, while his characters and their dialogue creep up to the edge of over-the-top ridiculousness without crossing the line.

Knowing a chunk of the plot revolved around the fashion industry (a sector I am totally oblivious to) made me think twice about picking up Non-Enemy Combatant. But given that Zoolander is my favorite film of all time, it seemed wrong to pass on this novel. Despite the relatively lackluster closing chapters, Gilvarry’s debut stands out as a bright spot in a pretty dull year for fiction so far.

Noteworthy Quote:
I traced her ivory legs from her hemline to her flats, where an out‑of‑place L.L. Bean backpack with the initials T.W.M. rested against her ankle. I would find out later that the initials belonged to one Todd Wayne Mercer, an ex‑boyfriend. He took her virginity; she took his backpack. Fair is fair.

Link: amzn.to/I6ZYyI

Grade: A-

L/C Ratio: 70/30
(This means I estimate the author devoted 70% of his effort to creating a literary work of art and 30% of his effort to creating a commercial bestseller.) 

Thematic Breakdown:
40% - Psychological illness
30% - Marriage
15% - Law firms
15% - Parenthood 

Ferris’ 2007 debut, Then We Came to the End, examined the conscience of the modern day office worker – a theme the majority of his readers could relate to, if not identify with directly. In The Unnamed, Ferris pivots and moves in the complete opposite direction, telling the story of a man who suffers from a bizarre disorder that doctors can’t diagnose, let alone cure. Considering the man is the only person in the world known to suffer from this disorder, it’s quite literally a theme with which the average reader cannot possibly identify.

The point is – Ferris took a risk with The Unnamed. And halfway through the novel, I wasn’t sure if he had succeeded or not. The initial description of Tim’s illness (he randomly starts walking for miles and miles and can’t stop himself) is fascinating, but its repetitiveness made me wonder if it may have been more effective as a trope for a short story.

Then just when I thought Tim was about to devolve into a shallow Forrest Gump caricature, Ferris seizes the reigns, stirs up the plot, and lands a conclusion that nearly induced weeping from me (do they make windshield wipers for Kindles yet?).

Ferris deserves a spot in the discussion of the premier contemporary novelists. More than anything, I admire his ability to retain such an artistic approach while still making his writing an accessible experience.

Noteworthy Quote:
What they used to call soul. What they used to call spirit. Indivisible, complete, that thing made of mind, distinct from body. He thought he had one—a soul, a spirit, a nature, an essence. He thought his mind was proof of it.

Link: amzn.to/z61sVU

Grade: B+

L/C Ratio: 40/60
(This means I estimate the author devoted 40% of his effort to creating a literary work of art and 60% of his effort to creating a commercial bestseller.) 

Thematic Breakdown:
40% - Speculative fiction
40% - Sci-fi
10% - Brotherhood
10% - Marriage 

Science fiction novels intimidate me because I worry my imagination may not be vibrant enough to keep up with their exotic ideas and visual inventions. Those worries were quelled in “A Life Transparent” for two reasons. First, the majority of the sci-fi content in the novel relates not to visible things, but to things becoming invisible. And second, Keisling does an admirable job of maintaining a narrow scope and keeping the focus on his characters.

The novel’s unsettling premise and examination of modern American society elevate it from the standard fare found in the thriller genre. There is no shortage of plot twists, and the kidnapped wife storyline is key to advancing the action and delivering a conclusion that carries some weight. “A Life Transparent” is a quick read with some crafty symbolism and a powerful message.

Noteworthy Quote:
He cursed his imagination for breeding a Southern detective, and cursed himself for letting the character become the voice of his inner monologue.

Link: amzn.to/HBlwCO

Grade: D

L/C Ratio: 10/90
(This means I estimate the author devoted 10% of his effort to creating a literary work of art and 90% of his effort to creating a commercial bestseller.) 

Thematic Breakdown:
60% - Baseball
30% - Shenanigans
10% - Dysfunctional family

In search of something to get me in the mood for Opening Day, I picked up Hayhurst’s 2010 baseball memoir, which revolves around his time in the lower levels of the San Diego Padres minor league system. I’ve been away from baseball nonfiction for a while, but The Bullpen Gospels seemed like a safe choice. It’s been praised by many respected individuals in sports media, including Bob Costas, Tim Kurkjian and Tom Verducci.

Hurry, someone needs to check those men’s vital signs right away, because the book is a total mess. Hayhurst provides insight into the life of a struggling baseball player, but he makes very odd decisions when choosing which anecdotes are worthy of a brief mention and which deserve an entire chapter. Far too much of the text is spent chronicling clubhouse antics – some of which is offensive, and none of which is funny.

Hayhurst has some decent writing chops, so I can see why he turned to books as an alternative career (his second title, another baseball memoir, came out in February). However, he would be better served using that ambition and his personal experience to write baseball-centric novels, where he’d have the freedom to create actual narratives instead of muddled scrapbooks.

Noteworthy Quote:
Perfectionism is a funny thing. It won’t allow you to cut yourself even the tiniest bit of slack. It will insult you when you fail to achieve it and berate and belittle you until you’re your own worst enemy, an enemy you can never defeat.

Link: amzn.to/H9LsSJ

Grade: B

L/C Ratio: 80/20
(This means I estimate the author devoted 80% of her effort to creating a literary work of art and 20% of her effort to creating a commercial bestseller.) 

Thematic Breakdown:
40% - Family dynamics
40% - Rural life
20% - Magic

The strength of Eowyn Ivey’s debut novel is its balance. Each time the voice and thoughts of Mabel, the story’s lead character, threaten to bump the text into sentimental territory (aka Groan City), her no-nonsense husband Jack is there to keep things grounded. In the same way, chapters filled with descriptions of the quiet Alaskan wilderness are offset by energetic scenes involving Mabel and Jack’s lively neighbors.

Heading into the final third of “The Snow Child,” Ivey has an opportunity to be lazy, rely on her gorgeous prose, and pump out a fairytale ending to match the novel’s mystical premise. Instead, she twists the plot into some sort of Frosty the Snowman meets Willa Cather concoction, with a dash of Edith Wharton mixed in. It’s raw. It’s emotional. And it works like magic.

Noteworthy Quote:
We are allowed to do that, are we not Mabel? To invent our own endings and choose joy over sorrow?