Celebrating her 45th birthday, quiet and unassuming Josie Fair meets her birthday twin: glamorous podcaster Alix Summers. Not only was Alix born the same day as Josie was; she was also born at the same hospital, and the coincidence makes Josie wonder about fate, and how her life would’ve been if she’d been born into Alix’s. Slowly, she maneuvers her way into Alix’s life, convincing the podcaster to interview her for the show as a middle-aged woman on the cusp of turning her life around. Except that Josie’s motives are a lot more sinister than merely becoming the subject of a podcast, and soon, she creates far more trouble than Alix ever anticipated.

None of This is True is an interesting read. Despite the intriguing hook, it started off really slowly for me. The set-up of Josie manipulating her way into Alix’s life — to the point of randomly stealing Alix’s garbage and hand soap — wasn’t as compelling as I’d hoped. I think part of it is that Josie acted creepy from the very beginning, so it was hard to see how an otherwise intelligent and successful woman like Alix would’ve let herself get entangled with her as badly as she did. The book tried to explain it away as journalistic curiosity, but considering that Alix’s recording studio was in her own home, the fact that she let someone with as many red flags as Josie presented so close to her family and their personal lives was just odd to me.

And if Josie’s initial creepiness wasn’t enough to raise any red flags for Alix, surely her over-familiarity should have been. She later makes some really judgmental comments about Alix’s husband Nathan’s drinking. Even if Alix agreed with her statements, those were things only a really close friend had a right to say, so the fact that Alix pretty much just lets it go was frustrating, especially since Alix didn’t fully agree with Josie’s statements in the first place!

So for much of the first half, this was turning out to be a fairly disappointing read. Except that I I got to the halfway point shortly before bed and found that I kept wanting to read just one more chapter. And when I finished that chapter, I figured I may as well read just one more. And so on and so forth, until I finished the book late into the night.

The ending was a bit of a letdown, and the final big reveal was anticlimactic, but my goodness, Lisa Jewell can write. For all my underwhelmed responses to elements of the book, the fact remains that it kept me turning the pages. The story hooked me, and made me want to find out what happens next. And for that reason, I ultimately think this is a good book. Just suspend your disbelief a bit, and hold out for the much more compelling latter half.

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Thank you to Simon and Schuster Canada for an e-galley of this book in exchange for an honest review.

The Medici Murders started out intriguing enough: retired archivist Arnold Clover is tasked to help solve the murder of Marmaduke Godolphin, a British TV historian with a bold new claim about the truth behind Lorenzino de Medici’s assassination in 1548 Venice.

Unfortunately, the book didn’t really work for me. Most of the story is told in flashback: Arnold telling the lead detective about the events leading up to Duke’s death. This slowed down the pace considerably, and even though the book is relatively short (less than 300 pages), it felt long. There was a point late in the novel when I realized Duke hadn’t even been killed yet, and I was tempted to skip ahead to see how much longer I had to go till it happened.

Part of the problem, I think, is that the book splits its time between two deaths: that of Duke Godolphin and that of Lorenzino de Medici. The motive behind the present-day murder may have its roots in the 16th century one, because Duke had called all of his nearest and dearest (also all those with the most reason to want him dead) to Venice with him to reveal his latest theory about Medici’s death. The theory is certainly bold enough; even I, a non-historian, had heard of the person Duke believes actually masterminded Medici’s death. Unfortunately, apart from the initial dramatic (and comedic) reveal, there’s little drama behind the historical mystery.

Unlike, say, The Da Vinci Code where I was flipping pages at super-speed trying to get through all the various clues and conspiracy theories (admittedly, Dan Brown pens a wild and far-fetched ride), most of the characters in this book dismiss Duke’s theory almost immediately. Some characters mention elements that could prove him right, and there actually is a document among the archives that may be definitive proof, but overall, these clues are brought up in conversation with an almost academic slant. Worse, they’re brought up as Arnold recounting to the detective conversations he’s had with other characters, and while thoughtfulness is a good trait for an archivist, it doesn’t make for a very exciting narrator.

Still, despite all that, there were quite a number of suspects who had reasons to want Duke dead. And thanks to an evening masquerade and some drinking, many of those suspects’ alibis were pretty thin. So even though the pace was slow, I was still interested to see which of them killed the man. I won’t give any spoilers here, but the big reveal absolutely infuriated me. I had started out liking the detective enough, but this reveal just totally turned me against her, and the utterly unnecessary actions she decided to take in solving this case.

Worse, this big reveal happens with several chapters still to come, and it turns out the main mystery wasn’t so much Duke’s death as the identity of the mastermind behind his fall from grace. I do acknowledge the parallels with Medici’s story, in that the identity of the assassin isn’t as much the point as the identity of the mastermind, and I guess that’s what the author was going for. I’ll also admit that I didn’t guess the identity of the present-day mastermind, which is testament to the author’s skill at keeping the reader in the dark. Unfortunately, by that point, I also didn’t much care who had orchestrated Duke’s downfall. The mystery of the stiletto in his chest interested me more, and the reveal around that fell flat.

Overall, this book fell flat for me. Too much focus on historical details that unfortunately didn’t find anywhere near as interesting as the characters did, and not enough actually happening in the story. Still, readers who enjoy digging through archives may geek out over Arnold as a series detective, and readers interested in this period of Italian history may be eager to explore a new potential theory around Medici’s death.

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Thank you to Publisher’s Group Canada for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Sunshine Nails is a moving and lighthearted story about a Vietnamese-Canadian family in danger of losing their nail salon when a flashy American chain salon moves into their neighbourhood. I loved meeting the Tran family, and their story of their rather rustic Nails Nails Nails going up against the much pricier and glossier Take Ten is sadly all too realistic.

One salon entertains customers with Judge Judy on a TV screen; the other offers WiFi, flower petal pedicures, and elegant cocktails. Much as we cheer for the Trans to win, we know community support can only do so much, particularly in a neighbourhood like the Junction in Toronto, where gentrification has already sunk its tendrils into all sorts of nooks and crannies. Then the Trans’ landlord jacks up their rent to almost double the amount, and a developer is set to demolish a nearby heritage building for office and condo spaces. The Tran family is at the heart of this story, but in many ways, so is the city of Toronto, and part of the fun of reading this is recognizing all the Toronto landmarks Nguyen mentions.

At the heart of it all are the various members of the Tran family: Phil and Debbie, who came to Canada by boat with only the jade ring Debbie tucked behind her upper lip to make her too ugly for pirates to capture; their daughter Jessica, who escaped her family’s nail salon for a glamorous career in LA, only to return when she lost both her job and fiance; their son Dustin, who works ridiculous amounts of overtime at the tech company, only for his charismatic boss to consistently deny him a raise; and their niece Thuy, who immigrated to Canada with dreams of becoming a nurse, but works at the family nail salon out of a sense of duty.

Phil and Debbie go to extreme lengths to save their salon and their family. I love how loving their marriage is, and how respectful they are of each other, and I especially love how the author manages to convey this when neither character is demonstrative with their feelings. There’s a fantastic scene where they have sex, and it begins with an adorable will they/won’t they dialogue that’s clearly become a ritual over the years. Afterwards, Phil tells Debbie she looks beautiful, and she responds by asking if he remembered to take the bitter melon out of the tamarind juice. It’s a perfectly incongruous response that says so much more about their years together than a sweet nothing ever could. And even when they do things later in the story that disappoint the other, the bond between them is still so clearly unshakeable that I can just tell: this marriage will last, no matter what.

Jessica and Dustin go through their own character arcs, basically of learning to appreciate their family, their family’s business, and the neighbourhood they call home. Jessica’s story arc is somewhat more developed; Dustin’s sudden activism against gentrification doesn’t quite tie into the main nail salon plot as neatly as Jessica’s taking a job at the salon does. And for Jessica in particular, the direction her story took is both heartwarming and uplifting; she’s a big reason the story ends on a note of hope that the legacy Phil and Debbie have built over the past twenty years will live on in the next generation.

But for me, the highlight among the next generation’s stories is that of Thuy. She’s the immigrant cousin who postponed her dreams to support her family — both those in Canada who gave her a home, and those back in Vietnam, who’ve pinned their hopes for a better home on her. Unlike Jessica and Dustin, Thuy didn’t have the luxury of shaping her own destiny in Canada; her life here is very much dependent on her aunt and uncle, and she doesn’t quite feel she has the same right that her cousins do to push back. The scene where her friends from ESL class invite her to watch a movie with them is both relatable and heartbreaking. Her excitement at finally making friends is palpable, and I especially love the detail that she’s glad the movie they selected is an action film, because those are easy enough to follow even if you’re still learning the language. Yet when her uncle Phil calls because they need her at the nail salon, there isn’t even a question of whether or not she could say no.

In so many ways, she’s also the superstar among their employees, yet she’s also the most overlooked. She’s their most skilled nail tech, the go-to for fancy designs, yet it’s only when Jessica gets good reviews online that Phil and Debbie find something to gush about. When Phil needs to cut wages so he can afford the rent, Thuy is the only one who doesn’t complain, yet her cooperation is immediately minimized by a reminder that she lives with her aunt and uncle rent-free. Thuy’s is the story that most found a place in my heart, and when she finally makes a momentous decision for her own benefit, I was cheering her on all the way.

Overall, this is a touching story of family, immigration, and the struggles of keeping both your and your family’s dreams alive. Kudos to the author for writing such a heartfelt and emotional story with such a light touch. This is an easy read despite the deep emotions it evokes, and definitely a highlight for summer reading.

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Thank you to Simon and Schuster Canada and Word on the Street Toronto for an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.