“All the Ugly and Wonderful Things”

by Bryn Greenwood

Four-year-old Wavy and her little brother Donal are raising themselves on a meth compound. The sporadically present parents are emotionally neglectful and physically abusive, as Valerie struggles with addiction and mental illness and Liam resents the children’s existence that complicates his drug enterprise. When Wavy witnesses a motorcycle accident and saves the driver Kellen from the wreckage, an unlikely friendship develops with the well-meaning physical giant who keeps an eye on the children. The theme of innocence is excavated in the ensuing chapters when a well-meaning aunt Brenda challenges the only family Wavy and Donal have ever known.

The opening chapters unfold like a well-seasoned and crisp onion, new, yet cultivated, exposing a background that illuminates the present. Wavy, though young, frail, and for the most part mute, exhibits an acute intelligence and disregard for authority. Initially bounced from family home to family home and then back to the compound, Wavy forms distant attachments to her cousins while their mother, Wavy’s aunt, fears for the children’s safety. The story’s polyphonic telling challenges whose version of the truth prevails and whether the law affords nuance to quintessentially taboo actions. Additionally, Wavy is one of the most compelling and thought-provoking characters I’ve read in quite some time.

Bryn Greenwood’s narrative style resonates like a lullaby sporadically interrupted by a trumpet. Her beautiful prose is saddled with complex content, made more unsettling by the reader’s desire for true love and a happy ending for a little girl who has never had anything to smile about. Greenwood’s story challenges the moral compass on which most of us agree, daring to push the line of appropriate conduct for the perceived greater good. She questions whether age is the appropriate barometer for maturity, whether wellmeaning adults should have the last word, and when a child ceases to be a child.

Physically uncomfortable would describe my physical and mental state reading this book, yet it did not deter me from devouring the text in less than 24 hours. I expected the book to be a hard read based on the material circumstances for the children, but the difficulty was most felt in the emotional and moral questions posed by the author. While some will find this book appalling and might even deem it to be forgiving the unforgivable, Greenwood raises questions rarely addressed out loud. This novel reminds us that silence breeds ignorance, and to truly understand the scope of an issue, dialogue must commence. I commend Greenwood for delving into the gritty underworld we all know is there but rarely confront.

“Those letters seemed so wonderfully tragic to me. Each one a message he would never get. A note in a bottle, bobbing on the ocean. Lost.”

REVIEW BY MEREDITH MCKINNIE

“Lessons in Chemistry”

by Bonnie Garmus

Bonnie Garmus’s debut novel Lessons in Chemistry showcases a sucker punch narrative laced with social commentary. With the ever changing dynamic for women’s roles and perceptions in society, Garmus looks back at where they’ve been. In the 1960s, Elizabeth Zott is an aspiring scientist, clawing her way through a man’s discipline, fending off sexual advances and outright assaults, all in an attempt to obtain a PhD in chemistry. After the college chemistry department denies her admission, Elizabeth settles for a lackluster lab job, allowed the freedom to research and explore abiogenesis, while being overlooked for promotion because of her gender. When Elizabeth falls in love and intellectual bliss with the star scientist at the corporation, his access to power provides an opening for Elizabeth. After a stunning turn of events, Elizabeth must navigate motherhood, career changes, and the status quo that relegates strong, focused women to the margins.

I was surprised that this compelling narrative was Garmus’ first. She writes with a seasoned flair, weaving Zott’s biting wit alongside the reality for working women in the mid-century. The life advice mantras pepper the story, such as: “Courage is the root of change—and change is what we’re chemically designed to do.” Zott wants only to be taken seriously, for her projects to be funded as well as the men with little intellect or instinct. Garmus leans on intuitive female characters throughout the book, including a neighbor trapped in a marriage well past its due date and Elizabeth’s daughter Madeline - a ferocious reader with a mother whose approach to parenting is well ahead of its time. Garmus reminds us of the untold stories, the women who spent so much time fighting for equality and respect that it’s amazing they were able to accomplish anything. She reminds us that though we’ve come a long way, the fight must continue. Obtaining rights and respect does not mean keeping them.

I couldn’t help smiling and laughing throughout this book. It was the delightful escapism I so adore in novels that surprised me with their depth.

Elizabeth Zott is a character to remember, a scientist who defies the emotional stereotype and proves women are just as capable, and often more likely to succeed because of what they have to overcome just to get to the starting line. Garmus’s name is on my author watch list. I am so looking forward to her next novel.

“People will always yearn for a simple solution to their complicated problems. It’s a lot easier to have faith in something you can’t see, can’t touch, can’t explain, and can’t change, rather than to have faith in something you actually can.”

REVIEW BY MEREDITH MCKINNIE