I don’t know about other readers, but generally, as soon as a jacket blurb mentions something like “intergenerational saga” or “centuries-long family lore,” I roll my eyes and drop the book like the proverbial hot potato, sure it’s going to tax me with keeping track of 27 characters and five time periods. For whatever reason, this time, I kept reading past that ominous descriptor, and I’m so glad I did as Margaret Wilkerson Sexton’s moving and engrossing novel, The Revisioners, is one of the best I have read in recent years.

Chapters rotate across three time periods and center on two main characters, Josephine, who was born into slavery but who claims freedom at an early age and lives a long life in Louisiana, and Ava, her great, great-granddaughter, who lives in contemporary New Orleans with her pre-teen son and—in an unexpected twist that becomes increasingly unsettling—her wealthy, white paternal grandmother with dementia. In addition, both Josephine’s and Ava’s own mothers feature vividly in their respective chapters, deepening the layers of national and personal history that Sexton so realistically and poignantly depicts. The maternal line in this family is also characterized by certain gifts of understanding and sight, both earthly and other-earthly, which create a shadowy but certain bond that steadily solidifies among the women as the plot progresses.

Conflicts between our protagonists and somewhat minor but all too powerful white characters in all time periods make for suspenseful, unsettling scenes and, as you might expect, lead to heartbreak and trauma for both Josephine and Ava. Believe me, I cried (well, even sobbed) more than once at the outcome of certain events, but Sexton isn’t after “easy tears”; they would be pointless if not accompanied by genuine acknowledgment of and determination not to hide from our nation’s painful and shameful past, especially on the part of white readers. Even so, the novel’s conclusion (in Ava’s time/place) points towards healing and hope for this family that has endured so much.

I won’t spoil the surprise of the title’s origin and its place in this book (or in which of the three generations of Black American women it is featured), but I found this plot-dependent entity and the way it informs and almost foretells key characters’ lives one of the most poignant and satisfying conceits Sexton employs. I couldn’t recommend this book more emphatically for anyone looking for a serious and unforgettable, not to mention timely, contribution to American literature.

I loved this book! The writing is excellent and it has a very unique storyline. The main character of the novel is Williams, a butler that takes care of a wealthy manor. However, Williams struggles to separate his work and life. While he is very proud of himself and the work he accomplishes, he struggles to obtain things that other humans find joy through such as: hobbies, a lover, a family, etc. I’ve never read a book like this before, and I can see why it’s so well-known and critically acclaimed!

I can appreciate poetic works that try to string each idea together into a connected narrative. I've seen few that have done this as well as Einstein's Dreams has. Of course, the problem with trying to make all these disparate poems work together is that they are still just brief glimpses into stories that could easily stand on their own. Perhaps that's the curse of well-written poetry—it leaves you wanting more. I'd almost consider these stories as writing prompts for anyone looking to make an entire book out of the dreams of the world's best physicist.

Many of the stories in this collection/novel play upon the ideas of general relativity. The way the physics is described and how the people in these worlds live feel legitimately realistic. Of course, sometimes the physics "gimmick" isn't revealed until the end of a story, thus leaving me in the dark as to what was actually happening as I read through the dream. I didn't have enough patience to read through these stories again to fully understand the way their worlds worked.

As a cohesive narrative, there isn't much that advances the story here. It's mostly focused on exploring interesting applications of theoretical physics in the terms of people and their lives. Some are stronger than others, but they're all basically the same idea repeated a couple dozen times in slightly different packaging. And maybe I was expecting something more like Shakespeare in Love (1998) where Einstein's dreams help him break through the concepts he's trying to discover. Instead, the titular character is only in a few pieces of joining text that frame the whole collection. But at least the prose was pretty.

Poetic exploration of theoretical physics, I give Einstein's Dreams 3.0 stars out of 5.

Gonzales is both a non-fiction and fiction writer, whose excellent articles I've read in well-known publications like The Atlantic Monthly. This book is the first novel of hers I've read, and I was not disappointed.

Our two key narrators are Anita, a Latina artist whose husband, we discover right away, killed her in 1980s New York City; and Raquel, a Latina art student in late 1990s Rhode Island, trying to find her way in a predominantly white and privileged community while also maintaining and respecting her cultural roots.

Both Anita (who narrates from the world of the dead and who can use a form of Santeria to manifest her actions and "essence" to people still living) and Raquel share the experience of falling for privileged and self-involved white men, both of whom are controlling and abusive in various ways. While Anita is a fighter to the last, Raquel's self-confidence rises slowly but steadily throughout the novel until the finale when readers see her blossom into a woman who can and will stand up for herself and for her family and true friends.

Beyond the two women's dangerous (and in Anita's case. deadly) relationships with controlling white men, the other linked plotline centers on Anita's art work being gradually erased after her death and the promise that Raquel will somehow unearth those works and breathe new life into them. My only quibble with the progress of this plotline is that its resolution felt rather rushed, not quite providing the satisfaction that a slower, longer narrative of Anita's re-discovery would have.

Gonzales's writing style is propulsive in parts and poetic in others. Her two protagonists are drawn vividly, and even without the named alternating chapters, it would be hard to confuse one voice with another. The conclusion of both narrators' stories shines a light on the importance of women defining themselves outside their roles in men's lives. I think Gonzales also does well to portray Anita and Raquel not simply as victims of male violence and general douche-baggery but as flawed, smart, emotionally conflicted women whose sexual and romantic decisions are as fraught with passion and blind spots as any real-life woman's is.

As I work my way through the Pulitzer Prize-winning novels, I'm finding the modern ones hold up a lot better under scrutiny. There's usually some eye-opening element from a marginalized group, which is partly why these are important novels to recognize. For its time, I'm sure Less came off edgier than today because of the wider acceptance of LGBTQ+ characters. Still, the writing in this book is deserving of its Pulitzer status not because of the main character's sexuality, but rather by the humor and humanity present in these pages.

The odd thing is that I don't think a book like this would work quite as well with a straight protagonist because they basically fall into all those same "woe is me" tropes that loser white guy main characters exhibit in a lot of literature. Yes, Arthur Less can't commit to a relationship. Yes, he's avoiding accomplishing the things he's good at because he's having a midlife crisis. That he's gay actually makes things more relatable. It doesn't matter which gender men choose to love, they all have these problems—for better or worse.

I think the most surprising element of Less is its humor. I still recall some of the best written punchlines almost 5 months later (Volcano? It's closed). That the author uses the humor to lighten the depressing side of this book's plot is a godsend. Life is full of missed opportunities and burned bridges, so framing these situations with the soft blanket of humor helps make them more heartfelt. Even amongst all the exotic locations, the one common denominator is the individual who is there, trying to run from themselves. It doesn't get any deeper than that.

A humorous and heartfelt look at the midlife crisis of all men, I give Less 4.5 stars out of 5.

Nikolai Gogol's "The Overcoat" is a simple yet intriguing story of a man set upon buying a new overcoat despite his poverty-stricken life. Enamored with his job of copying documents at the office, Akaky never takes notice of the world around him, even when all the other workers around him gibe at his love for something so mundane as replicating documents and the intense manner of which he regards this dull job. However, he is sharply brought into reality when winter brings frigid weather, and he realizes his threadbare and tattered overcoat simply will not sustain Russia's winter. He begins his speculations into buying a new overcoat with as much zeal as he puts into his office work, yet he hardly expects what the future holds both for him and his overcoat. Both amusing and thought-provoking, Nikolai gives the reader insight into the life of an eccentric office worker laboring during the harsh winter and successfully blends farce comedy with blunt realism to create a short story that stirs the emotions and leaves the reader satisfied.

I began this book because I was interested in the author, Osamu Dazai, as some of his life and feelings were reflected in this work of literature. Overall, I enjoyed the perspective that Yozo brings on both life and humanity.

No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai is a fictional story that follows the main character, Oba Yozo, throughout his tumultuous life as he feels estranged from humanity and those around him. Yozo as a child yearns for something in life which he cannot find in the untruthful and utilitarian way that the people he is surrounded by choose to live. As he searches for what it is to be an authentic human being while battling his own disconnect from society, his view on life as a whole changes. As time progresses Yozo’s life takes a bold path, highlighted by his erratic behavior in order to “qualify as a human” as he enters college, still struggling with his fear of exposure and masking his true nature under a comedic facade. The way that Yozo is characterized brings forth a layer of depth and instills a deeper understanding of both him and human nature through his perspective. The book touches on many themes that are prevalent even in our modern-day world such as alienation from society and individual struggle of expression as well as fear of being ostracized. The story of Yozo and his wayward life is intriguing, and I think that one of the reasons that it is still widely read and appreciated both in the West and in Japanese literature is because Yozo brings out the things in people which often are hidden away, revealing some of what it is to be human. His account as he goes through life also adds a refreshing take to things often perceived as mundane, inviting the reader to muse upon them and form their own opinion themselves. However, I was not able to fully enjoy the book because of the overly cynical view it took on life especially towards the end of the story which I believe is a reflection of the author’s similarly deteriorating life.

"One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel García Márquez is a novel that spans generations, blending magical realism with themes of love, family, and the cyclical nature of history. Set in the fictional town of Macondo, the novel follows the Buendía family through triumphs, tragedies, and the passage of time. García Márquez's prose and vivid imagery create a picture of Colombian culture and folklore, immersing readers in a world where the extraordinary is commonplace. As the Buendía family grapples with their destinies and the ghosts of the past, García Márquez creates a narrative that transcends time and place, offering insights into the human condition. "One Hundred Years of Solitude" is a masterpiece of literature that enchants, leaving a mark on all who read it.

"The Remains of the Day" by Kazuo Ishiguro is a novel that explores themes of duty, regret, and the passage of time. Set in post-World War II England, it follows the life of Stevens, a butler reflecting on his decades of service at Darlington Hall. Through Stevens' introspective narration, Ishiguro skillfully reveals the inner workings of a man dedicated to his profession to the detriment of his personal life. As Stevens embarks on a journey to confront his past, readers are drawn into an exploration of the complexities of human relationships and the consequences of missed opportunities. Ishiguro's elegant prose and subtle storytelling make "The Remains of the Day" a timeless piece, inviting readers to ponder the meaning of loyalty and the nature of true greatness.

"Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte is a haunting tale of passion, revenge, and the destructive power of obsession. Set against the atmospheric backdrop of the Yorkshire moors, Bronte creates a narrative that delves deep into the complexities of human nature and the dark corners of the human psyche. Through the relationship between Heathcliff and Catherine, Bronte explores themes of social class, love, and the relentless cycle of vengeance. The novel's richly drawn characters and evocative prose create an immersive reading experience that lingers in the mind long after the final page. "Wuthering Heights" stands as a timeless classic of English literature, captivating readers with its raw emotion and portrayal of the human heart's capacity for both love and cruelty.