Category Archives: book review

Book Review of Blood Stained Tea (The Yakuza Path #1), by Amy Tasukada

I was sent a copy of Amy Tasukada‘s Blood Stained Tea for review.

Description from Goodreads:
A bloody past haunts him. A devastating present calls him back…

Nao hides from his violent past in the Japanese mob by opening a teahouse in Japan’s cultural center, Kyoto. His past comes flooding back when he discovers a gravely injured man with a tattooed chest, a bloody knife, and a Korean business card.

Saehyun would’ve died if not for Nao’s help. He knows nothing of his savior’s connection with the local mafia, but Saehyun has his own secrets. He commands the Korean mafia, the mortal enemy of Nao’s former syndicate.

As Nao and Saehyun grow closer, so does the strength of the Korean mob. A shocking murder pulls Nao back into a past he’d all but abandoned. War is looming, and Nao must choose between protecting Saehyun or avenging the honor of his old mafia family.

Review:
Blood Stained Tea was a fun book to start the year with. I really appreciated that it contains a romance featuring a Japanese and Korean man, one of which is bi-sexual. Plus, being set in Kyoto, Japan is a nice change. Overall, I quite enjoyed it. I liked both the main characters, appreciated the difficult positions they found themselves in and was left wanting more when it ended.

However, Nao’s logic often made no sense to me, nor did his constant assumptions about Saehyun. In fact, they were made so frequently and asserted so firmly that I felt very much like the author was trying to convince me of something I should be able to sense without being told (repeatedly). It was like they were both keeping themselves willfully ignorant and I’m afraid that just wasn’t something I could buy into, considering how much both of them had at stake. Even when all but incontrovertible proof was presented, the two of them (Nao especially) somehow remained clueless. I just couldn’t believe it, which meant a lot of the plot felt contrived.

Similarly, the decision and twist at the end was utterly unbelievable for me.  When the book was presented to me for review it came with this note: “…this is a m/m thriller. Though there is a love story throughout the novel it’s NOT a romance, nor is it for the faint of heart. Lots of bloody violence and death.” So I get that this event at the end is what makes the book a thriller rather than a romance. But I think the story tried too hard to straddle the genres and compromised itself. It would have been stronger, in my opinion, to pick one or the other. Especially since so many readers will be disappointed. Romance lover will be let down by the ending and thriller fanatics will likely be put off by the romance. Because for 99% of the book the romance is front and centre, even if it is practically an insta-lust.

Honestly, if not for the ending, I would call it an M/M romance using the Yakuza and Jo-pok for plot. Admittedly, a romance of the tragic, Shakespearean sort—very Romeo and Juliet—but a romance all the same. In fact, I’d call this a mix of Romeo and Juliet and The Godfather. Nao makes a very convincing Michael Corleone.

The writing is pretty good. The first chapter or so is a bit rough, but it smooths out fairly quickly. The editing also never grabbed my attention, which is what editing should do, and it was well-paced. All sex is off-page, so it’s not particularly steamy, and the book has an awesome cover. Lastly, I totally agree with Nao about Oolong tea. It’s my favorite too, especially the darker, heavily oxidized ones. Yum. I look forward to reading more of Tasukada’s work.

The Mortifications

Book Review of The Mortifications, by Derek Palacio

I received a copy of The Mortifications, by Derek Palacio from Blogging for Books.

Description from Goodreads:
In 1980, a rural Cuban family is torn apart during the Mariel Boatlift. Uxbal Encarnación—father, husband, political insurgent—refuses to leave behind the revolutionary ideals and lush tomato farms of his sun-soaked homeland. His wife Soledad takes young Isabel and Ulises hostage and flees with them to America, leaving behind Uxbal for the promise of a better life. But instead of settling with fellow Cuban immigrants in Miami’s familiar heat, Soledad pushes further north into the stark, wintry landscape of Hartford, Connecticut. There, in the long shadow of their estranged patriarch, now just a distant memory, the exiled mother and her children begin a process of growth and transformation.

Each struggles and flourishes in their own way: Isabel, spiritually hungry and desperate for higher purpose, finds herself tethered to death and the dying in uncanny ways. Ulises is bookish and awkwardly tall, like his father, whose memory haunts and shapes the boy’s thoughts and desires. Presiding over them both is Soledad. Once consumed by her love for her husband, she begins a tempestuous new relationship with a Dutch tobacco farmer. But just as the Encarnacións begin to cultivate their strange new way of life, Cuba calls them back. Uxbal is alive, and waiting.

Review:
This is what I would classify in my own taxonomy as a Book Club Book. It’s one of those books that takes itself very seriously, is beautifully written and every single person in it is miserable from start to finish. The specifics of their misery might change in the course of the book, counting as growth for a character, but everyone’s still miserable. That is The Mortifications  for you.

Despite how it might sound, I did like the book. More so now that I’ve finished than as I crawled through it. (It’s quite slow, inhabiting the characters mental space more than anything else.) But I can’t say reading it was as enjoyable for me as having digested the story as something to contemplate. I liked Ulises and Williams and I liked their relationship to the women in the novel. But the women are the objects of the book, while Ulises and, to a lesser extent Williams and Uxbal, are the subjects, in my opinion. And I could never quite wrap my head around the decisions and personalities of Soledad and Isabel.

The writing is beautiful, though entirely told, rather than shown—to such an extent that there are no quotation marks in the book. Nothing is said directly, the reader is just told that someone said something. It took a little while to get used to the style. But I did eventually and it was very cleverly done.

If you have a book club or happen to like book club books, this is worth picking up.

Book Review of Back Where He Started, by Jay Quinn

I downloaded a free copy of Back Where He Started from Amazon when it was free. (It was still free at the time of posting.) This was timely as it’s by Jay Quinn and Q was the last letter I had left in my yearly alphabet reading challenge.

Description from Goodreads:
Chris Thayer finds himself packing up the last pieces of a quietly extraordinary life. After twenty-three years of marriage to Zack Ronan—and after raising the widower’s three kids—Chris finds himself facing an uncertain second act. Seeking refuge in North Carolina’s Outer Banks, Chris has to come to terms with his own empty nest and challenge himself to move forward with a new relationship. This is a subtle depiction of the meaning of family and motherhood, and of the search for your true soul.

Review:
I generally really enjoyed this. I liked Chris and most of the other characters. I liked the story and the writing. I liked that the characters were older and had a real relationship with their adult children. I liked that the role of mother was shown to be valuable and validating and that a man is shown to be just as capable of care and tender feelings as anyone else.

However, I had some serious complaints that tainted the read for me. First and foremost, I was really disturbed by how many ways this gender binary, fit, gay, male character (who was shown to be an exclusive bottom and physically smaller than every other male) was painted as a woman. Not in the indirect way some readers complain about, when a male character expresses too much emotion and is deemed too feminine, but in explicit ways. The fact that he calls himself a wife, only once saying househusband when speaking to someone he fears will be judgmental. His children call him mom. He calls himself a grandmom when one gets pregnant. (Never once does anyone refer to him as dad or equivalent.) Someone says his pussy will dry up. His ‘breasts’ are fondled in the sex scenes. His boyfriend calls him bitch. He’s compared to the Madonna. He and his ‘high-fag’ friend (his words) speaks of him as ‘girlfriend’ and ‘woman’ and he’s religious, which is generally a female characteristic in literature. If he had claimed any gender flex, I wouldn’t have blinked. But he didn’t, which meant the innumerable ways he’s described as female only made the book feel as if it had been written as M/F and poorly converted to M/M, which I don’t actually think is the case.

I understand that struggling with his identity as a homemaker is part of the plot of the book. In fact, there are some borderline offensive passages that could be read to denigrate wives as unable to be simultaneously married and individual, self-sufficient human beings, but the point is him deciding if he has to be unattached to be whole. But I was still uncomfortable with a lot of it because it felt so overblown and because it compromised the theme that a man just as motherly as a woman. Because according to this narrative, a man can be motherly, but only if he’s also womanly. Plus, it suggests that even among gay men there can only be heteronormative-like partnerships in which one plays the woman.

The writing is mostly very good, though a bit repetitive. But over half the names could be taken out of the dialogue and it would read much more smoothly. They are included far more often than feels natural. Further, the transitions between events are abrupt and jarring. Often there is no indication that time, location or characters are changing from one paragraph to the next, leaving the reader to flounder until they manage to relocate themselves. Lastly, Zach’s attitude goes from hostile and aggressive to contrite off page and it neither feels natural nor satisfying. He was horrible and then was forgiven instantly. The same could be said for the woman who was party to breaking up Chris’ relationship. She is never forced to face the fact that she participated in an affair with an essentially married man with children and with him destroyed another person’s life. She is just treated kindly. I needed to see the people who did wrong face the consequences of their actions and I didn’t feel this was provided.

I also didn’t like the form of Chris and Steve’s relationship. Yes, I understood that all the ‘bitch, make me dinner,’ was half joking and a symptom of Steve’s gruff affection. But I didn’t enjoy reading it. Neither did I feel comfortable with the inference that to marry someone Chris would have to take the subordinate role of wife (or that the wife has to be the subordinate role) and belong to Steve. The author does not seem to have a very broad or forgiving understanding of the role of wife and it was painful to read, regardless of the homemaker’s gender.

In fact, I kind of felt the author didn’t do well with female characters in general. There are only three female characters, none playing a big role. One is a predatory ‘business woman’ who steals another person’s husband. The second is the classic saintly mother trope and the last, and most important one is described as and shown to be neurotic. Not a single one exists outside of her husband, which is notable considering the afore mentioned views towards wives as whole people.

I also thought the book could have ended at 70%, the last 30% only adding unnecessary drama and becoming increasingly saccharine with each passing page. These are content complaints though. I enjoyed the experience and the book in general.