In The Dutch Wife, Ellen Keith tells the story of Marijke de Graaf, a Dutch political prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp in 1943, who volunteers to work at the camp brothel in exchange for a reduced sentence. While working at the brothel, she catches the eye of Karl Muller, the second-in-command Nazi officer at the camp. Karl is struggling to balance his distaste for the brutality of his job with his desire to make his father proud, and sees in Marijke a welcome respite from the pressures of his life. Alternating with Marijke and Karl’s stories is that of Luciano Wagner, a political prisoner in 1977 Buenos Aires during the Argentine Dirty War, who is trying to work through a fraught relationship with his domineering father.

The Dutch Wife is beautifully written, and distressingly bleak. Marijke’s story is certainly a perspective I haven’t seen in fiction before — I had no idea prisoners at Nazi camps had brothels — and Keith does a great job at detailing all the various ways in which the Nazis used it more to reinforce their power rather than actually give prisoners moments of pleasure. In a heartbreaking scene, Marijke’s first client can’t perform, because of how much his experiences at the camp weigh down on him. I don’t know if I’d describe him as broken exactly, but Keith paints a very stark picture of how diminished he is when he comes to Marijke, and how sexual pleasure isn’t even among his concerns anymore. In another, more horrifying scene, the Nazis send a gay man to Marijke’s bed, and watch closely to make sure he performs. His desperation when attempting to fake sexual attraction so as to avoid punishment are heartbreaking, and it was such a difficult scene to read.

Karl and Marijke’s encounters were even more difficult to read. Karl believed he was in love with Marijke, and schemed about ways in which he could get rid of Marijke’s husband, who was assigned to a neighbouring camp. The things he ended up doing were horrific, and a scene where he learns that the husband (a mild-mannered professor type) has been given special dispensation to visit a prison library, and then tracks him down to yell at him just infuriated me. His treatment of Marijke as well is so creepy-crawly given the power imbalance, and it was heartbreaking to see Marijke exhibiting symptoms of Stockholm syndrome and thinking that Karl isn’t that bad. This storyline is outright disturbing, and kudos to Keith for such a stark portrayal of what must have been a reality for some women in those camps.

Luciano’s story is tied to the 1943 storyline in a way that makes the story feel like it comes full circle. His storyline does tease us with a bit of hope, as he and some of his fellow prisoners use their jobs at the prison to try to help the resistance and the families affected by the war. I have so many conflicting emotions about how Luciano’s story turns out, but ultimately, I do feel that the ending it realistic, and fits in with the story Keith has built up so far.

The Dutch Wife is beautifully written and engrossing, but by no means an easy read. I’d recommend reading it, then treating yourself to a bit of self-care afterwards.

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Thank you to Harper Collins Canada for the wonderful meet-the-author event in May, and for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Foe reads very much like a Black Mirror or Twilight Zone episode or maybe a Philip K Dick short story. If you’ve read a lot of speculative fiction or watched a lot of classic science fiction, the ending may not be a huge shock to you, but the story is no less powerful for that. Reid writes beautifully, and his spare style works very well for this reflective, quietly disquieting tale.

Junior and Hen are having a quiet evening in their remote farmhouse when a stranger comes up to the door and tells Junior he’s been selected by random lottery to travel to space. The stranger, Terrance, will help prepare Junior for the journey, and will also make arrangements so his wife won’t feel so alone while he’s gone. As Terrance begins recording every aspect of Junior’s physical appearance and everyday habits, Junior begins to fear that arrangements are being made to take over his life. Worse, Hen seems to be drawing further away from him, and more welcoming of whatever it is Terrance is doing than Junior feels comfortable with.

I loved this novel. It does raise the usual science fiction / speculative fiction questions about personhood and identity: who are we really? What makes us human? Is the essence of our humanity something that we can eventually manufacture? What if something happens that throws doubt on everything we know is true?

But for me, the power of this story is in the questions it raises about love and relationships. The story is told through Junior’s perspective, and his storyline is certainly thought-provoking and emotionally resonant in many ways, but Hen’s story also really stood out for me. I love the subtlety in which Reid explores the complex gamut of her emotions, from the little niggling things that dissatisfy her about the current state of her life and her relationship with Junior to the flashes of affection when she realizes — seemingly to her surprise — how much she loves her husband. I absolutely love the way her story turns out, and the ending of the book made me so incredibly happy for her.

Equally masterful to me is the promotional letter that accompanied my copy of this book, which is probably the most intriguing letter from a publisher I’ve ever received as a book blogger. The excerpt that hooked me is as follows:

Foe is a master class in writerly tightrope walking. Iain places realistic characters in hyperreal situations and then increases the pressure higher and higher, while at the same time taking away all conventions, tricks, and devices a reader recognizes from the literary world.

• How does a writer make an engrossing thriller with no thrills, a horror story with no violence, science fiction with no science?
• How is a book about outer space paradoxically about confinement?
• How can a writer give readers exactly what they want but simultaneously take away everything familiar from them?

Foe is a literary high dive. It’s a book about alienation and belonging, outer space and inner space, individuality and conformity. It’s about whether you or I or all of us could ever be replaced.

[Letter to reviewers from Nita Pronovost, Vice President, Editorial Director, Simon & Schuster Canada. Dated May 1, 2018.]

The letter raised my expectations for Foe sky-high, and the book didn’t disappoint.

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Thank you to Simon and Schuster Canada for an advance reading copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

When Lucy hits her head after slipping on a patch of ice, she wakes up in the hospital with a condition known as “honest lying.” Unlike amnesia, where you completely forget portions of your past, honest lying means you remember everything. The only problem is, you have no way of knowing which of your memories are real, and which aren’t — even the false memories feel absolutely real.

So when Lucy wakes up and sees Matt at her bedside, she remembers him only as a work colleague, even though he and her family claim he’s been her boyfriend for years. She also learns that Daniel, the man she believes is her husband, is actually someone she broke up with right before their wedding — for reasons none of her friends and family know — and hasn’t spoken to since.

The Life Lucy Knew is a moving, heartbreaking tale, about a woman trying to return to a life she doesn’t remember, and forget about a life she never really had. I love that Brown explores not just the impact of the accident on Lucy, but also on the people around her.I absolutely fell in love with Matt, and his steadfast, gentle love. My heart broke for him each time he tried to get Lucy to remember their love for each other, and yet I could also sympathize with the reasons Lucy recoils from his touch. There’s a particularly heartbreaking moment where Matt goes to great lengths to recreate a romantic moment, only for Lucy to realize that she remembers every detail, but in her memory, it had all happened with Daniel. I was so in love with their love story, and I love how Brown shows all the nuance and emotions and tenderness that comes with a relationship that’s stood the test of time.

There’s a bit of a quasi-love triangle, as Lucy gets the chance to reconnect with Daniel, and also a minor subplot around Lucy’s return to work, but for me, it was Matt and Lucy’s story that kept me turning the page. The one minor snag for me is that I felt the ending cut to black right before the most dramatic moment, and while we eventually find out what happens, I would have loved to see that play out in real time.

Overall, it’s a beautiful story. I’m so glad I met the author at a Harper Collins Canada event, and learned about this book. I’m also going to be extra careful in walking around in winter, because seriously, this honest lying thing sounds terrifying.

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Thank you to Harper Collins Canada for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.