Ghost Story Glory: An Icon into the Either

Now that it's officially October, I'm all about spooky stories.  And I decided to start with Margarita Montimore's novel Acts of Violet.  Because I loved Oona Out of Order.  And because the cover's so Halloweeny.  

The titular Violet Volk is a larger-than-life, red-lipstick-and-combat-boots-wearing magician who's credited with breaking magic's glass ceiling in the '90s.  She's tough, she's glam, she's unsettlingly talented (some say she's a witch), and she always gets what she wants.  She's also, despite some unflattering media attention, fiercely beloved.  So when she disappears during a performance in the 2000s, the world erupts with emotion -- and conspiracy theories.  Now it's ten years later, and her fans are more obsessed than ever.  There's even a podcast called Strange Exits dedicated to finding out what happened to her (much of the book is in the form of its transcripts, along with emails and other correspondence).  The only person not fascinated by the why of it all is Violet's sister Sasha, who just wants to be left alone to run her salon in New Jersey.  (That's right; the Volk sisters hail from the Garden State, and not just any part, but the very county where I live, which makes everything creepier.)  It's not that Sasha doesn't care about her big sis.  It's just that they've always been at odds, plus she's sick of opportunists trying to make a buck off her hope.  Now that it's the ten-year anniversary, people are coming out of the woodwork to interrogate and/or troll Sasha.  What's more, some very strange things have started happening to her, things that she can't -- or doesn't want to -- explain.  

Montimore's writing is smart and descriptive, and she illustrates anti-hero Violet in such a way that she dazzles despite her many questionable actions.  I wanted to know more about her, just like (almost) all the characters in the book.  But here's the thing.  This story isn't really about Violet.  It's about Sasha.  That's the, ahem, illusion, that Montimore weaves.  And although I appreciate the plot device, I just wasn't invested enough in Sasha to want more of her story.  That said, I did want to know why all that weird stuff was happening to her.  And Montimore tells us.  Sort of.  But the bigger takeaway is that those reasons don't matter.  Or shouldn't matter.  But they mattered to me.  So although I loved the premise of the mystery, the '90s fashion and pop culture, and the haunting-to-me setting, I couldn't help but feel that something was missing.  It was like there were all these what-ifs that ended up leading nowhere or could've been summed up without going on a quest in the first place.  It reminds me of the time my family was in Disney World, and my dad and I were in line for what we thought was a roller coaster only to find out that it was one of those simulation things where you sit in a box that looks like a van that gets jostled around while you watch a movie.  

As you know, I don't usually write negative reviews.  And I read plenty of books that are so bad that I don't review them at all.  But sometimes I read books that are so engrossing that I'm moved to write about them even though they don't end the way that I want.  Acts of Violet is one of those.  

So thanks for making it magical, Violet.  Wherever you are.

New Wave Rave: Rock Around the Clock of Seagulls

New year, new you is an understatement for Oona Lockhart.  Having a New Year's Day birthday is one thing.  But in 1982, when she turns nineteen, she embarks on a brand-new life.  One minute, she's preparing to jam with her band; the next, she wakes up to find she's fifty-one.  That's right.  By some cosmic hiccup, Oona has become a time traveler.  At the stroke of midnight on each birthday, she "leaps" to another year in her life.  If time is money, than Oona's a pauper -- even though she's a millionaire.  (Time travel may be tough on the soul, but it's gold when playing the stocks.)  Her only guidance comes in the form of the letters she writes herself the year before, although they raise more questions than answers.  Because this is the story of Oona Out of Order, and it's one wild ride.  

Written by Ukrainian-born novelist Margarita Montimore, Oona Out of Order is different from anything I've read, not so much because of the time travel (I see you, The Time Traveler's Wife and The Midnight Library), but because of its vibe.  Although it's women's fiction, it doesn't have that pink gumball chick lit taste, which I appreciate (despite having a palate for said gumball), if only for the novelty.  Instead, it glitters with the grit of New York City's club scene, sex, drugs, and rock and roll ruling the earlier years of Oona's life.  Through it all, she grows and changes, the only constants her mom and music.  Both anchor her through the confusion and heartache that come with hurtling through the space-time continuum.  There's also a bit of a mystery going on, and I could kick myself (as per usual) for not figuring it out.  But I'll be a good little blogger and not breathe a word in case you decide to read this.     

Woven with what-ifs and dark romance, Oona Out of Order haunts you long after you're read the last page.  It would make a great movie, its poignant message intensified by a killer wardrobe and soundtrack.  Beautifully written, it keeps you guessing -- and entertained -- as you join Oona on each new journey to unlock the keys to her life and heart.