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About Jaclyn

Reader, writer, bookaholic for life!

Review | The Redheaded Stepchild, Kelly I. Hitchcock

Kelly Hitchcock’s The Redheaded Stepchild is an impressive collection of short stories that moves back and forth in time to chronicle the strained relationship between Cady and her stepmother Katrina. It’s difficult to categorize Stepchild as either a novel or a short story collection — while each story stands alone, all the stories combine to form a cohesive narrative thread. I love the dual meaning in the book’s title — Cady is certainly a redhead and a stepchild, but the title also clearly refers to the colloquial use of the phrase “redheaded stepchild,” meaning someone treated worse than both biological children and other stepchildren.

This is certainly the case for Cady. We are treated in the first story to Cady at twenty, home from college and dropping by Katrina’s hair salon. When Cady admits her father hasn’t confided in her about his problems, Katrina reacts with disdain, declaring that Cady should “learn to communicate better with him.” Considering that Katrina herself hadn’t spoken to Cady’s father in a while, Cady understandably gets her hackles up: “I was still his oldest child. […] To [Katrina] my father was nothing more than a worn-out lover.” Unfortunately, Cady is too meek to stand up to Katrina, and instead ends up flustered and intimidated.

This dynamic pretty much characterizes their decade-long relationship, as Hitchcock chronicles it. Hitchcock works well with dialogue, juxtaposing Cady’s awkward, hesitant phrases with Katrina’s biting jibes. We see Cady’s emotional outbursts beside Katrina’s coldness. This is especially evident in “Pageant,” where Cady has her heart set on singing an original composition for her final high school pageant, and Katrina tears her down, saying Cady should instead stick to her usual cover of “Concrete Angel.” I don’t mean to paint Cady as a total victim, because she’s not. The best part of Hitchcock’s stories is that the emotional core is actually rather subdued, so that we sympathize with Cady rather than pity her.

The book as a whole speaks about Cady’s struggle for confidence and independence, for freedom not just from her cold-hearted stepmother, but also from her small-town life. With this in mind, I think Hitchcock’s decision not to tell Cady’s story chronologically works really well. I admit being a bit confused at the beginning — Hitchcock only notes Cady’s age after each story, and I didn’t like not being told how old Cady was up front. That being said, once I got into the rhythm of the book, it became easier to tell, if not how old Cady was exactly, at least at what point in her life we’re seeing her. She does develop as a character, and it’s great to see the subtle shifts in her concerns and her confidence level as she does. The first and the last stories work particularly well in framing Cady’s tale — set just a year apart, we see a marked difference in tone, and we can appreciate this because of all the stories in between.

While much of the focus is on Cady and her stepmother, I also liked reading about Cady’s siblings — by this, I mean her biological ones, since she feels more of an older sister protectiveness towards them. In one of my favourite scenes, Cady comes across an old school paper by her younger sister Teresa from 1st/2nd grade. Filled with spelling errors and an endearing backwards “e”, Teresa writes about how “Cafrin” is her hero. That story ends with Cady telling her father she goes by Catherine from now on, and that just about broke my heart. I love how strong the bond between the sisters is, and I love how Hitchcock used small details (the backwards e, a forgotten apostrophe) to evoke so much.

The Redheaded Stepchild is a touching, sweet book. It’s the small details that get you, and while Hitchcock sometimes has a tendency to go overboard with the emotional scenes, the stories overall do tug on the heartstrings. A very good book.

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Thank you to the author for a finished copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | Stroll, Shawn Micallef

…there’s something about the proximity of those quiet woods to the nearby village that makes Frost’s poem [Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening] seem cozy and urban – a quick escape into the wild but never far from civilization. How wonderful it would be to walk through a forest on the way to a friend’s house, or to a tavern or movie in another part of the city. In Toronto, the best of nature and the city often intersect… [p. 202]

Only Shawn Micallef would pair “cozy” and “urban,” and only he would link Robert Frost’s poem about the woods to a city, let alone Toronto. His view of Toronto having the intersection of nature and city is a tad more romantic than I would normally think, and it’s just this romanticism that makes Micallef’s Stroll such a great book. Micallef views his city with an almost childlike sense of wonder. Informed, certainly, by his vast knowledge of the city’s history, as well as conversations he has had with various others, but there’s a youthful excitement in Micallef’s approach to exploring Toronto. Remember how when you were a child, even an office cubicle can transform into a land of adventure? That’s the view Micallef presents of Toronto — every sidewalk is a path to adventure, every building a potential locale for a story.

I remember when the book first came out. I was working as a bookseller then, and what began as an easy database-search-type recommendation for tourists looking for a book on walking tours in Toronto turned into my go-to recommendation for anyone looking for a book on Toronto. What swayed me is this fantastic bit from Micallef’s “Flaneur Manifesto”:

Over and over, we’re told that Toronto is not Paris, New York, London or Tokyo. We’ve been trained to be underwhelmed… Any Toronto flaneur knows that exploring this city makes the burden of civic self-depracation disappear. [p. 10 – 11]

Hear hear, Mr. Micallef. In Stroll, Micallef chronicles his wandering walks around Toronto, covering the downtown core, and, more significantly, spreading out into Pearson Airport, North York, Scarborough and the Port Lands. I know of Stroll readers who take their copy with them as they walk around Toronto themselves, perhaps using it as a guide, to point out things they may not have noticed on their own. I opted instead to read Stroll at home, enjoying the treat of dipping into it and checking out a neighbourhood or two at a time, mini adventures where my imagination took me on these tours. Reading about neighbourhoods I was familiar with is quite an experience — as Micallef’s narrative moved along certain roads and noted certain landmarks, I could picture these areas clearly in my mind. Once in a while, I’d learn a fascinating tidbit about the history of a building I’d passed numerous times without noticing; other times, Micallef would mention a detail I hadn’t noticed at all, and I make a note to take a look myself next time I was in that area.

Reading about neighbourhoods I’d never visited is a different kind of adventure. In a way, it’s not quite as thrilling — I no longer had the memory of the landscape to guide my imaginary tour. On the other hand, this just means that all these neighbourhoods are still waiting to be explored. As Micallef says, you realize how large Toronto is, to be able to fit all of this in it.

Toronto through Micallef’s eyes is an adventure. His affection for the city is infectious, and he punctuates informational tidbits with humour and whimsy. I highly recommend this book for tourists, new Torontonians, people moving away from Toronto, and anyone, really, who wants to view the urban landscape in a new way.

I recently joined a Jane’s Walk that Micallef led. At one point, he stopped walking, glanced around and, for no discernible reason (at least to me), stepped onto a patch of dirt and grass and zigzagged through that rather than stick to the pavement. So much of my walking around, at least, involves getting from one point to another (in other words, I would most likely have stuck to the pavement). Micallef’s seemingly aimless wander opens up familiar locales to adventure, and that’s why Stroll is such an amazing book.

It helps as well to have Micallef’s highly romanticized view of his surroundings, picking out random details that would usually escape attention and finding the whimsy in them. During that Jane’s Walk, Micallef stopped by the 403 and told the group to close our eyes and listen to the cars zipping past. You could almost believe, he said, that you could hear the ocean. That’s a bit of a stretch, Mr. Micallef, but hey, why not? I’ll give it a try.

Review | Lethal, Sandra Brown

Lethal by Sandra Brown is a fun romantic thriller. Honor was enjoying a quiet day with her daughter Emily when both are taken hostage by suspected mass murderer Lee Coburn. Hardly the set up for romance, except it turns out that Lee has his own version of what happened the night of the murders. He also thinks Honor’s husband had been killed over a secret, and that that secret has now made Honor and Emily a target for The Bookkeeper, a mysterious, ruthless crime lord. Who can Honor trust, and will Coburn keep her and Emily safe? Lethal goes from plot twist to plot twist rapidly, and the chemistry between Honor and Coburn is great.

It was a bit difficult to see Coburn as a potential hero in the beginning — he was still bloodied up and injured from the evening of the murders, and he kept threatening Honor with Emily’s safety if she didn’t cooperate. So I’m glad Brown kept the sexual tension in these scenes to a minimum — we see hints of Honor and Coburn finding the other attractive, enough to set up the eventual romance, but the focus is on Honor’s fear and her concern for Emily.

Once Honor decides to trust Coburn, the story really takes off with a hunt for Eddie’s secret and to escape from The Bookkeeper. While I don’t usually like the kid characters in thrillers like this, I thought Emily was well done. Her innocence and charm help counterbalance Honor’s fear, and urge out Coburn’s softer, sweeter side. The mystery was well done — I had no idea what Eddie’s secret was, and with even Coburn in the dark, I had no idea how they could find out. I somewhat guessed the identity of The Bookkeeper before the big reveal, but that was probably more luck than anything (as in I had about three major suspects and one of them turned out to be right).

On a minor note, there’s a subplot that I loved, about the FBI agent Tom, his wife Janice and their special needs child Lanny. Tom is a desk jockey, somewhat out of his depth in a murder investigation (the manhunt for Coburn), yet hopeful that his more exciting role will impress his wife. In a touching scene, Tom suggests to Janice that they put Lanny in a facility.

…he spoke before she could. “That’s not a criticism of you. Your patience and endurance amaze me. Truly. But caring for him is killing you.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I? It’s shredding you, body and soul. I see evidence of it daily.”

“You can look into my soul?”

Her sarcasm was more effective than a flat-out rebuke would have been. [p.101]

In the midst of all the thrills and adrenaline over Honor and Coburn’s story, Brown gives us this quiet, fraught exchange between a long-married couple. It’s an intense scene, one that immediately made me care for both characters and want them to work things out. That scene ended even more sadly, with Tom going to bed and realizing his wife preferred playing word games on her phone with someone in Singapore to sleeping with him. The Tom and Janice story turned out to have a bit of a twist in the end, adding even more layers to their relationship. Personally not too happy with their part in the story, but I do like their characters.

I’m also not too thrilled with the way Lethal ended. It just felt gimmicky to me, and I wish Brown had opted for a more traditional ending. Still, I like the chemistry between Honor and Coburn, and I thought the mystery was fun and fast paced. Overall, Lethal is a fun, exciting, romantic read.

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Thank you to Hachette Book Group Canada for a finished copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.