I recently finished two adult literary novels that will probably disturb you a bit—because that’s exactly what they did to me.
A God in Ruins, by Kate Atkinson, is the sequel to Atkinson’s 2014 masterpiece, Life After Life. A God in Ruins follows the story of Teddy, who is the sister of the heroine in Life After Life. In Life After Life, it seems as though Teddy has been killed in World War I, but in A God in Ruins, Teddy is alive and well, creating his own sad life. The book follows a very non-linear path but always has Teddy at the heart of it. He is a war hero and has come home to begin a family of his own.
A God in Ruins follows the meandering path of Teddy’s life, marriage, children, grandchildren and, eventually, death. Teddy never expected to live after the war, but he did, and throughout his living, he struggles to make it a good life. It was an epic story about love, family and what happens when a good man is given a second chance at life.
Atkinson did a fantastic job highlighting the difference between generations by showing thoughts and beliefs from Teddy and his wife; Teddy’s daughter, Viola; and his grandchildren Sunny and Bertie. This was probably my absolute favorite feature of the book. Atkinson skipped through viewpoints so that readers could experience life from all the different generations. I found it fascinating. Viola and her husband were hippie-types, while Teddy and his wife were the more conservative type that was typical of the World War I generation. And his grandchildren were bearing the scars from all the neuroses of the previous generations and believing, sometimes naively, that they’d be able to do better. I thought it was an accurate portrayal of the world’s generations today.
Though it was long and, at times, a little meandering, I enjoyed A God in Ruins. And the end has a twist that will likely surprise you.
I initially picked up I’m Thinking of Ending Things, by Iain Reid, because of its intriguing cover. I thought it looked promising, and it definitely delivered. This book was a fantastic literary thriller that I could not put down. It’s a small book, only about 62,000 words, and it definitely went quick. But it was fantastic all the way through it.
I don’t want to give to much away in my summary, so I’ll just say that the book is about a woman taking a trip with her boyfriend, considering the entire drive whether or not she should end things with him. The significance of all her conversations and rumination will come crashing in once you reach the end of the story.
There were so many things I liked about this book. Probably one of the most significant, at least for me, was the length. I love when adult books are short, because I don’t have a whole lot of time to read an epic book, and most of the time, when I do read a 700-pager, I usually reach the end thinking that what it needed was a good editor. Long doesn’t necessarily mean better. I’ll just throw that out there.
Reid is a master at communicating only enough of what you need to know.
I also loved that as the story progressed, so did my sense of unease and dread. I knew something bad was going to happen, but it was little subtle clues that unfolded it for me. Reid wasn’t obvious in any way. I thought I’d guessed something, and then he’d twist it around. I second guessed myself. I second guessed the characters. That’s when you know it’s a good thriller.
One of the other aspects of the book that I really enjoyed was that every now and then the narrator would philosophize on family and relationships and death—the deep things. It made for interesting breaks from the increasing sense of dread.
As soon as I was done with this one, I put it on Husband’s to-read shelf, because I knew he would enjoy it. It’s one of those books that’s like a seed. It will sit inside you for a while, and it will take a while to unfold and bloom, but when it does, watch out. You’ll be looking at everybody differently.
Here’s the opening of the book. (You’ll have to go out and read it now—how could you not?)
“I’m thinking of ending things.
“Once this thought arrives, it stays. It sticks. It lingers. It dominates. There’s not much I can do about it. It doesn’t go away. It’s there whether I like it or not. It’s there when I eat. When I go to bed. It’s there when I sleep. It’s there when I wake up. It’s always there. Always.”
And here’s one of my favorite philosophical asides:
“I think what I want is for someone to know me. Really know me. Know me better than anyone else and maybe even me. Isn’t that why we commit to another? It’s not for sex. If it were for sex, we wouldn’t marry one person. We’d just keep finding new partners. We commit for many reasons, I know, but the more I think about it, the more I think long-term relationships are for getting to know someone. I want someone to know me, really know me, almost like that person could get into my head. What would that feel like? To have access, to know what it’s like in someone else’s head. To rely on someone else, have him rely on you. That’s not a biological connection like the one between parents and children. This kind of relationship would be chosen. It would be something cooler, harder to achieve than one built on biology and shared genetics.
“I think that’s it. Maybe that’s how we know when a relationship is real. When someone else previously unconnected to us knows us in a way we never thought or believed possible.”
I hope you enjoyed these book recommendations. Be sure to pick up a free book from my starter library and visit my recommends page to see some of my favorite books. If you have any books you recently read that you think I’d enjoy, contact me. I always enjoy adding to my list. Even if I never get through it all.
