The Force of Such Beauty, by Barbara Bourland
I am old enough to have watched the televised wedding of Charles and Diana but young enough so that at the time, I couldn’t really see the downside to being a princess. Here’s a novel that will shatter anyone’s remaining fantasies about joining a royal family. Caroline Muller is the world record holder in the marathon who is preparing for the Olympics when a serious injury halts her career and strips her of her life purpose. She meets a hot guy, Finn, in a high-end physical rehab center and later learns that he is the prince of the (fictional) European kingdom of Lucomo. They find each other compelling, she has no other prospects, and so after a short courtship, she decides to marry him. She’s no idealist, but she loves Finn, and is hoping they’ll be a good team. But her husband spends much of his time on his work, which requires propping up the country’s economy by whatever means necessary. And it quickly becomes clear that her main responsibilities are to maintain her body (and therefore the royal image), to produce heirs, and to avoid rocking the boat. From the beginning of the book — which involves her attempt to flee this life — we know that happily ever after is not in the cards. “Fairy tales,” Bourland writes, “are not about sparkling shoes or white cats. They are about the ribbons that adorn, then sever, your neck.” The author writes that the novel is partly inspired by the story of Charlene Wittstock, the real-life Olympian who married Prince Albert of Monaco and reportedly tried to escape. Lush, dark, and compelling.
Black Cake, by Charmaine Wilkerson
Eleanor Bennett has died, and the lawyer supervising her estate is passing on some unexpected items to her daughter Benny and son Byron: a voice recording for them to listen to together, and, in the freezer, a Caribbean black cake to share at some later date — “when the time is right.” The siblings, who don’t get along or even understand each other at this point in their relationship, must sit down and listen to a story their mother never told them when she was alive, which at first seems to have nothing to do with them or the family they’ve known. They hear about Covey, a young girl growing up on a Caribbean island who loves to swim in the ocean with her friends. Covey has feelings for an ambitious, kind young man, but her father forces her to marry a local criminal instead. (Gambling debts!) But when the groom drops dead at the wedding under mysterious circumstances, Covey flees the island. Covey’s circuitous journey to the U.S., via the U.K. and what it means for Benny and Byron’s history and their present, is full of secrets, coincidences, misunderstandings, and broken and repaired family ties. If you like your books bursting with plot, big feelings, and insights about what we inherit from our parents and pass on to our children — and really, who doesn’t? — this is for you.
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin
You may have already read this one — it was one of the most-discussed books of the summer. But in case you haven’t, add my recommendation to the pile! It’s about the long-term creative partnership between two game designers, but please don’t be turned off by this concept if, like me, the last video game you played was Megamania. There are so many universal themes here, and the peek into the game creation process is fascinating. Sam Masur and Sadie Green meet young, in a L.A. hospital. Sam is recovering from a serious injury sustained in a terrible car accident, and Sadie’s sister is being treated for cancer. They play Super Mario Bros. together and forge a short-lived friendship that is revived by a chance meeting during college. With the help of Sam’s roommate, Marx Watanabe, they create a hit game, and then a successful company, binding them together for decades to come. Zevin is interested in the tensions and intimacies that characterize the best long-term creative collaborations. There is plenty of love — for work and for other people — and tragedy, and clawing back your life after tragedy. One of my favorites of the year.
(You can tell me what you think by replying to this email.)