Rating: 4/5 Stars

Dive into the radiant world of California Golden by Melanie Benjamin, where the sun-soaked landscapes of 1960s Southern California set the stage for a mesmerizing exploration of family dynamics, desperation, and second chances.
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At the heart of the narrative is Carol Donnelly, a legendary female surfer challenging the norms of a male-dominated sport, and her daughters Mindy and Ginger. Fueled by their mother’s apparent indifference, these young sisters adopt Carol’s unwavering devotion to the ocean, normalizing PB&J sandwiches for dinner and skipping school to catch waves. While Mindy becomes a surfing sensation, basking in minor celebrity and winning competitions, Ginger finds herself entangled with the self-proclaimed ‘Surf God’ in a world of drug deals and beachside shack living.

Drawing inspiration from a real-life mother-daughter surfing trio, Benjamin weaves a tale that, though fictional, swells with authenticity. The characters’ actions are often frustrating, but they undeniably contribute to the novel’s overall impact. Despite not always being likable, the characters come alive and shine the brightest when they’re hanging ten.

What truly dazzles in this book is the key throughline: the generational echoes within a family when a woman is torn away from her true calling and thrust into a role she never desired. Through the compelling narratives of Mindy and Ginger, Benjamin explores how parental neglect leaves an indelible mark on a child’s beliefs and behaviors. Carol resists the conventional trappings of motherhood, often seeking solace by the seaside. In Carol’s absence, Mindy evolves into Ginger’s caretaker, fostering a fierce sense of self-preservation. Ginger, on the flip side, desperately seeks someone to look after her. These reverberations from their shared history resonate in their subsequent romantic relationships, adding layers of complexity to the emotional rollercoaster of the narrative.  ​

Written by Lauryn Smith

​As promised, I read “A Court of Mist and Fury” by Sarah J. Maas. You may remember my slightly scathing review of its predecessor, “A Court of Thorns and Roses.” Though I still have some qualms, the second in the “A Court of Thorns and Roses” series exceeded my expectations.
 
The story picks up right where the first left off. In the aftermath of bad girl Amarantha’s demise, Feyre returns to life in the Spring Court with soon-to-be hubby Tamlin. But things are not all roses and daisies anymore. First of all, she has that tattoo linking her mind to Rhysand’s, as well as Rhysand’s pesky bargain regarding Feyre’s living arrangements, to worry about. Add to that Tamlin’s newly developed overprotective personality, and the fact that all in the Spring Court abide by his command to keep Feyre safe by restraining her to the grounds and limiting her access to information. Feyre used to feel thankful for Tamlin’s protection, but now she feels stifled, bored and unchallenged. She also cannot get over the guilt regarding the crimes she committed in order to save everyone from Amarantha’s wrath. In addition, the more she gleans about how the courts work, the more repelled by the system she becomes. Oh yeah, and she now has all the powers of a High Fae, powers that reflect those of each of the courts’ High Lords.
 
On the day of Feyre and Tamlin’s wedding, Feyre falls apart. As he did multiple times in “A Court of Thorns and Roses,” Rhysand pops in and saves the day, whisking Feyre away to the dreaded Night Court. That is when everything changes and Feyre’s perspective shifts. Instead of willingly remaining a veiled treasure, Feyre gets her life back on track. She grows familiar with the people, places and politics of the Night Court, trains to control her potent powers and flirts mercilessly with Rhysand. All the while, a new and fiercer evil looms. And once more, Feyre is key in ending it.
 
Maas again focuses on the good versus evil trope, this time on a dual level, both between the courts and an outside force as well as between individual courts. This is a classic and widely appealing theme, so no complaints there, granted the lack of emphasis on the plot leaves something to be desired. Also again, Maas attempts to make the story grab adult readers by including explicit sex scenes. Maas needs more than said sex scenes to make the novel appropriate for adults. Take them away, and this book is young adult through and through. I will contend, though, that the integration of action and romance is accomplished much better in “A Court of Mist and Fury” than in its predecessor. 

Written by Lauryn Smith

In her historical fiction novel "The Museum of Extraordinary Things," Alice Hoffman invites readers to dive into dueling worlds, one mystical and breathtaking, the other dark and seedy. 

Set in 1911 New York, Hoffman illustrates the time by interweaving the stories of Coralie, a young woman who assists her father’s museum of “natural” wonders, and Eddie, a young man who struggles with his unfortunate past but finds solace in his work as a photographer and life in the Manhattan wilderness. Their paths cross when Eddie accepts a job reminiscent of those he used to accept from shady characters in his youth. This time the job is seeking the missing daughter of an acquaintance of his estranged father. In addition to providing readers a true page-turner of a book, Hoffman expertly introduces readers to actual historical events, in this case the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in Greenwich Village and the fire at Coney Island’s amusement park, Dreamland.

Hoffman, the author of more than 30 novels, seems to want to exemplify the psychological impacts of social and economic inequalities. Coralie feels trapped by the wishes of her father, who disallows her from showing her true self, going so far as to require her to glove her deformed hands, while simultaneously forcing her to train as a water-loving creature to be displayed at the museum. Eddie carries with him the watch of the young son of a wealthy factory owner, which he stole when he was a child working alongside his garment-worker father, a token that seems to represent his distaste with societal disparities. His unease is perpetuated by his craft, in which he uses his camera to capture both beautiful and sordid images. Likewise, Coralie learns that the museum of wonders that once seemed magical is actually a house of hidden horrors. How is it that the world can supply such extremes, and in such proximity?