The Devil’s Detective, by Simon Kurt Unsworth

The Devil's DetectiveY’all already know that I’m a sucker for detective stories with a twist (see: The Last Policeman, The Manual of Detection, etc.). So when this book, whose title is no misnomer, crossed my path, I knew I needed to read it.

But I almost didn’t. I picked up the book and started reading about angels coming down to hell to negotiate moving some of Hell’s souls up to Heaven, and I was like, hold on, this is a detective book, right? After I reassured myself that there would somehow be a murder, in Hell, I went back to reading and things got just even weirder. It turns out that the twist in this detective novel is that it’s also a horror novel, which I somehow managed not to guess from the title, and so in addition to police procedures there is also gruesome sex and violence and a lot of creep factor. Not my cup of tea, usually, but there’s enough other stuff to focus on that you can tune a lot of the gross stuff out.

Unsworth’s premise is a Hell wherein Dante-like punishment has been replaced by toil and drudgery, where human souls are fished out of a sea and formed into beings whose profession — whether prostitute or Information Man — and life in Hell is preordained. When humans die, their souls go back out into the sea for the chance of another go-around, until maybe someday they are randomly chosen to go to Heaven.

Once the murder plot came in, the book picked up quickly for me. Our hero, Thomas Fool, is an Information Man, tasked with solving crimes but usually not bothering to, unless it’s deemed really important. The crime that starts off this novel is really important — a human is dead, but not like regular dead, where his soul goes back into the sea to try again, but like super dead, where is soul is completely and totally gone. This is new in Hell, and both the humans and the demons are wary of whatever demon has managed to accomplish this feat. Fool is tasked with solving this crime above all other priorities, and he soon learns (of course) that Hell isn’t quite what it seems.

This book is fascinating mostly for its setting and world-building, laying out a Hell not terribly different from regular life and changing up the rules that we and even the angels of this world are used to. The mystery was not super difficult for me to figure out, but Fool’s troubles with it pave the way for the intriguing ending (that I believe is leading into a sequel) and allow more time to learn about this strange afterlife, so I guess I can give it a pass.

I’m glad I came into this book fairly blind, because I might not have read it otherwise and it’s actually a pretty decent book! If they publish that sequel, I will definitely check it out.

Recommendation: For fans of not-quite-detective stories and those who are not or don’t mind feeling squeamish.

Rating: 8/10

The Hilltop, by Assaf Gavron

The HilltopI picked this book up in the same swoop that brought me I Did Not Kill My Husband, and for much the same reasons. Foreign book, in translation, looks intriguing, and this one even let me know in advance that it was going to have some political satire, which was good to know because otherwise the beginning would have made absolutely no sense.

As with I Did Not Kill My Husband, let’s take it as given that I know very little about the culture and cultural references of Israel, so please forgive me when I inevitably get something wrong here.

Okay, so, the book starts with the formation of a settlement called Ma’aleh Hermesh C, which is built on a hilltop to be a sort of farm and then slowly and with an odd combination of permission and subterfuge becomes a little community with people living in shipping containers and fighting with the Palestinians who live next door. As you do?

This settlement is kind of the main character of the book; the story goes off to talk about other people but it always comes back to the settlement and the fact of its precarious position in the world and its resilience in the face of evacuation orders and miffed government officials and angry Palestinian neighbors and a strange Wall Street Journal story. These were the parts I didn’t really understand, but it’s not terribly difficult to find amusement in the very weird misfortune of others, so that’s still cool with me.

The parts of the book that fascinated me were the backstories of the two main person characters, Gabi and Roni. Their story starts when Roni shows up at Ma’aleh Hermesh C to stay with his brother, Gabi, the former in a spiffy suit and the latter in religious garments. Roni has left America for vague reasons and Gabi has taken up residence in this odd settlement for equally vague reasons, and as the book goes along we get glimpses of their childhood and young adulthood and come to understand how the both of them ended up where they are now.

Gavron does this in the way that I love best, where the characters talk to each other about past events as normal people would, e.g. “What about Mickey?” “-muttergrumble-” “Sucks to be you, dude” (these are… paraphrases), and then sometime later we get a scene where we find out just why it sucks to be that dude. It’s frustrating not knowing what the heck is going on at first, but it’s so awesome once you figure out what’s going on and see how the author played off of that withheld knowledge.

I also like that Gavron gives all of his characters at least a little backstory; Gabi and Roni get most of the spotlight but several of the other settlement residents get a chapter about their lives that helps explain how this crazy place has survived. He also keeps the characters as real as they can be, with no one ever getting exactly what they want or deserve but everyone doing what they can to make themselves happy. It’s a good contrast to the confusing satirical parts!

After this and I Did Not Kill My Husband, I am itching to get my hands on a translated book that has nothing to do with political satire. Ideas?

Recommendation: For fans of sly satire and those who know a bit more about Israel than I do.

Rating: 7/10

I Did Not Kill My Husband, by Liu Zhenyun

I Did Not Kill My HusbandGosh, what a strange little book. I picked this one out of the mountain of advance copies available to me due to its awesome title, the fact that it’s a book translated from the Chinese and I don’t read enough books written by non-Anglophone writers, and the fact that the description made it sound like it might be a little bit like Out.

It is not like Out. But it’s still pretty cool.

So the deal is, there’s a Chinese woman, Li Xuelian, who gets pregnant with a second child in a strict one-child area. But she’s got this great idea — she and her husband can get divorced, he’ll keep their kid, she’ll have the baby, and then they, two adults with just one kid each, can get married and have two kids! Genius! Except that after they go through the divorce, the husband gets remarried. Wah wah.

From the title, I was expecting that either Li would kill her husband and then deny it (as you do), or she would all but kill him and make his life terrible. The latter is what she tries to do, certainly, but what actually happens is that he goes on with his happy life and happy new wife, and Li becomes the tortured soul.

See, Li tries to undo that divorce of hers, but the judge and the court decide against her. She thinks this is ridiculous, so she goes to higher-ranking person after higher-ranking person in an attempt to get her way and leaves a trail of fired, demoted, and/or terrified government employees in her wake, but never gets the recourse she seeks. She eventually ends up sort of accidentally lodging a protest at a national event and ends up attempting to return every year for twenty years, though without any success.

The story is satirical in the style of Candide, where thing after thing keeps going wrong, though Li never thinks that any of it is for the best. As her fight progresses through the government, we meet some interesting political players and see Liu’s take on the ambitious go-getter, the no-nonsense planner, and the dude who just wants to get through the day, all of whom are shaking in their boots when Li comes around because they just can’t figure out what she wants. Of course, at some point all she probably wants is an apology, but by then it’s way too late for that.

There’s some other kind of joke in this book that I don’t quite get, which is that the characters often speak in idiom after idiom, repeating the same sentiments with different metaphors. I understand that that’s what they’re doing, but I’m not sure why or if it’s a joke on the characters or just fun wordplay or what. I will clearly have to study up on my Chinese satire.

Oh, and then the ending… this whole book is just trolling its reader, I think.

I’m really not sure what to make of this book, as I’ve never read anything quite like it before, but I’m pretty sure I enjoyed my time with it. It has definitely inspired me to seek out more Chinese literature, though maybe just some straightforward fiction next time? We shall see. Suggestions welcome!

Recommendation: For readers who don’t mind books that make almost no sense even in the end.

Rating: 7/10

The Eye of Zoltar, by Jasper Fforde

The Eye of ZoltarGuys! Guys! The new Jasper Fforde is out! I don’t know how we have all survived to this day! Well, I mean, some of us had ARCs. And probably some of us live in or ordered it from the UK, where it has been out for SIX MONTHS already. Those sneaky Brits. But if you aren’t one of those people? It’s here! Hooray!

There’s really not that much to say about The Eye of Zoltar that I haven’t already said about every other Jasper Fforde book ever, and especially about the other two books in the Last Dragonslayer series. You’ve got your Jennifer Strange, teen head of a wizarding corporation; you’ve got your Un-United Kingdoms, poised for war at any and every moment; you’ve got your wacky hijinks and puns and misunderstandings and deus ex machina…s?

This book picks up right after the last one left off, but you don’t need to have read that one because Fforde delivers a summary right at the start, which is sooooo useful because all the crazy he writes can get easily mixed up in my head. And besides, all that nonsense gets left behind when Jennifer goes off on what is very clearly not a quest (quests involve too much paperwork, you see) to find a probably nonexistent object for a usually inanimate but still very powerful magician. Before she can go off on this not-a-quest, she is also recruited by the king and queen to take their insufferable princess daughter, recently body-swapped with her own beleaguered servant, and train her up to be a useful human being. Just another day in the life of Jennifer Strange.

One of the weirder things about this book is that it gets downright educational. It turns out that the princess is some kind of economics genius and she explains things like futures and options and goat trade in a way that seems, to this reader with little knowledge of economics, to be pretty factual and useful if I ever want to rid myself of a goat surplus. Luckily all that learnin’ talk is surrounded by rubberized dragons and leaps of faith and 50 percent survival rates, so you don’t have to learn things if you’d rather not. Nice to have the option.

I am definitely intrigued to see where Fforde goes next with this series, but according to his website he is taking a break from dragon slayers for a little while and releasing a “super secret standalone novel” next year (oooooooh) and then, finally, a prequel to Shades of Grey in 2016, and holy crap I am so excited for that I can’t even. In the meantime, this book is the perfect cure for your Fforde withdrawal, post-summer reading slump, or general boredom.

Recommendation: For everyone, unless you don’t like weird humor, in which case I’m not sure why you’re here.

Rating: 8/10

Station Eleven, by Emily St. John Mandel

Station ElevenI have been hearing so many good things about this book lately, well deserved good things, but back when I picked it out of the advance copy lineup all I knew was that it had a neat cover and was written by Emily St. John Mandel, who, like Jo Walton, I should have started reading ages ago. And I think that’s a pretty good way to go into the book, because it is so hard to describe the book well and I think whatever you hear about what the book is about is necessarily not going to be the whole story. All you really need to know going in is that it’s not going to be a page-turner, but if you’re in the mood for something you can sit and savor and that will make you think about life, this is just the ticket.

But if you need to know more, I’m happy to oblige. Station Eleven fits primarily in that genre called post-apocalyptic that I know gives people hissy fits, but in a world where literally can mean figuratively I think that’s not the worst name we could have for a book that takes place after a big, world-changing event. In this case, the world-changing event is a flu that takes out something like 90 percent of the world’s population along with all of the important services like electricity, water, gas, and the Internet. How does anyone survive??

But of course people do, as people have always done, and the primary story line we follow is that of Kirsten Raymonde, a member of the Traveling Symphony, whose slogan is “Because survival is insufficient.” The Symphony, still going twenty years after the flu, puts on Shakespeare’s plays and performs concerts for various settlements on a circuit in the northern Michigan area, and those settlements seem generally glad to see them until the Symphony rolls in to a town where they dropped off two members a couple years back. The members are nowhere to be found, no one wants to talk about it, and things are generally creeptastic in the area. When the Symphony leaves, they decide to wander off their usual circuit to see if they can’t find their friends and maybe explore some new territory, but of course it’s not as easy as that.

Meanwhile, we get to know some other people who are all connected through this one fellow called Arthur we meet at the beginning of the book (Kirsten was in a play with him). We meet Arthur’s ex-wife Miranda and learn about her relationship with him and his relationship with fame, we meet a paparazzo turned entertainment journalist turned paramedic called Jeevan who once documented Arthur and later worked to save his life, and we meet Clark, Arthur’s old friend who just manages to avoid the flu and who lives in probably the nicest settlement in northern Michigan.

I love the way the stories interconnect at different points, allowing you to learn about these people and their lives before and after the flu in little pieces spread throughout all the narratives. I also like that although Mandel connects all these characters together through Arthur, none are close enough in relationship or location for it to feel contrived that they’ve survived this flu.

I appreciate that although this story falls into that post-apocalyptic category, it seems so much more realistic — it’s twenty years later, so the characters are past any looting, panicking, killing stage that might have happened, and no one crazy person has stepped in to realize his utopian vision or whatever. Instead it’s just regular people living out a pioneer life with a few minor altercations here and there but generally just trying to live, or in the case of the Traveling Symphony, trying to increase awesome. I can only hope our future post-apocalyptic world is as nice as this one.

Recommendation: For people who are tired of plot-driven apocalypses and those who want to know that everything’s going to be okay, ish.

Rating: 9/10

The Secret Place, by Tana French

The Secret PlaceI wrote a little blurb about this book for a program called LibraryReads where librarians nerd out about the best books coming out every month, and it goes a little something like this:

“French has broken my heart yet again with her fifth novel, which examines the ways in which teenagers and adults can be wily, calculating, and backstabbing, even with their friends. The tension-filled flashback narratives, relating to a murder investigation in suburban Dublin, will keep you turning pages late into the night.”

And, I mean, seriously. If you’ve read any of Tana French’s other work, you probably don’t need me to tell you to GO READ THIS RIGHT NOW WHY ARE YOU NOT READING THIS RIGHT NOW, but just in case, I will tell you that this ranks right up there with Broken Harbour and a second reading of In the Woods as one of her best. Sooooo good, guys.

The story: Holly Mackey (of the Faithful Place Mackeys) shows up at our favorite police station with a Post Secret-style card from the Secret Place at her fancy-pants boarding school where kids can post anything they want anonymously with minimal oversight from the adult types. This card says that someone at her school knows who really killed a student who was found dead on the school’s campus a year before. Stephen Moran, to whom Holly entrusts the message, is a Cold Cases cop eager to make the Murder squad, and he jumps at the opportunity to work with the currently partner-less Antoinette Conway who headed up the case in the first place.

He thinks he knows what he’s getting into, but when he gets to the school he realizes he’s forgotten how ruthless and cunning teenagers can be, especially in an isolated boarding school. He’s also conveniently forgotten that the games these kids are playing are the same ones he should be playing at work, which is why he’s stuck in Cold Cases.

Interspersed with Moran’s story is the story of Holly and her friends starting a few months before the death of Chris Harper, during which they decided to skip over the pettiness of high school and stop caring what other people think, which is a great idea but really hard to implement when you spend your entire life with the same people. French drops in hints here and there about how Holly and her friends’ actions and the actions of other students will eventually lead to Chris’s death, but as always she keeps you wondering up to the end.

Also as always, French’s writing is perfect and amazing, and her characters are all completely believable and somehow sympathetic, even the ones who are kind of terrible people. In this book she throws in a new Gothic idea, that Holly and her friends have magical powers, and although I was like, no, of course they don’t, at first, by the end of the book I was ready to believe whatever French wanted me to believe. There’s really no arguing with her.

Now I just have to wait patiently for the next novel. That’s coming out soon, right? Please?

Recommendation: For all the people, but especially those who like a little Gothic mood in their crime procedural.

Rating: 10/10

Bad Feminist, by Roxane Gay

Bad FeministA few months back, I read Gay’s An Untamed State and did not like it very much at all. It was a tough read in several ways, and I just couldn’t bring myself to appreciate the reading experience. But I liked Gay’s writing and I knew this book was coming out and I kept my fingers crossed that it would be good.

It was pretty good!

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, as I’m not the widest reader of essay collections, so I just dove right in and hoped for the best. Gay starts off the book talking a bit about the state of feminism and the state of her own feminism, which is, like mine, somewhere along the lines of “I’m a lady and ladies are awesome and we shouldn’t put down ladies for the sake of putting down ladies.” She’s willing to expend a little more effort than I am in getting the “ladies are awesome” word out, as evidenced by the collection of feminist-y essays that follows the introduction.

Gay’s essays are primarily about the intersection of women and pop culture, from Girls to Sweet Valley High to The Hunger Games, and how pop culture needs to get its act together because it’s not cool to make a really awesome rap song for Gay to blast with her windows down and then have all the lyrics be about abusing women. There are also several essays about race and politics and general public discourse on feminism, and some closing essays reiterating Gay’s feminist stance or lack thereof.

I think my favorite essay from the collection is one near the beginning that is also available on Gay’s tumblr, in which Gay details the steps women can take to be better friends. These include not belittling other women, not being mean for the sake of being mean, not believing that women suck (something it took me several years to figure out between high school and college), telling the truth, and enjoying a friendship for what it is. Really, it’s a good primer for embarking on any kind of relationship, and you should share it with all of your friends, especially those of the adolescent variety because I just read another book where the lack of this knowledge caused a murder and yeah it’s a fiction book but YOU NEVER KNOW.

Ahem. Anyway. There’s also an essay about Scrabble that follows shortly after the friends essay which baffled me a little at first because it is in no way obviously about feminism, but it’s a fun essay and if you read enough into it you can come away with some good metaphors about feminism, so that’s a win.

All of the essays are written in a very personal style — I think at least a few of them come from her tumblr and others are opinion pieces from various media outlets — and while it’s fascinating getting into Gay’s head and learning more about her personal opinions and beliefs, it turns out that she is juuuuust a little bit prone to run off on tangents. They’re not uninteresting tangents, but sometimes the connections are jarringly tenuous, as in her essay that is about either Miss America or Sweet Valley High or fitting in at school or the terrible writing in Sweet Valley Confidential, which left me wondering more than once if my ereader had skipped a page or seven accidentally.

But overall I found this book a fun read, reinforcing a lot of my already-held beliefs and introducing me to some new ways of thinking about race and privilege that will hopefully lead to me being a better person in the future. Not bad!

Recommendation: For those who want to spend some time thinking about social issues and also terrible teen book series.

Rating: 8/10

Landline, by Rainbow Rowell

LandlineI maaay have already mentioned in this space how super in love with Rowell’s novels I am. I haven’t gotten around to Fangirl yet, but you can bet I will very very soon, and then I will be able to say that I absolutely adore everything Rowell has ever published. (Right? Wait, has she written stuff other than novels? Note to self: look into this.)

Because Landline? Is adorable.

Landline is about a TV-industry workaholic (is that redundant? Probably…) called Georgie McCool who finds herself stuck working in LA over Christmas when she’s supposed to be spending the week with her husband and children and in-laws in Nebraska. Her husband, Neal, who has put up with Georgie’s shenanigans long enough, decides to take the kids with him to Nebraska while Georgie stays behind. Between Georgie’s phone’s inability to hold a charge and Neal’s propensity for leaving his phone behind when he wanders off somewhere, she finds it impossible to get a hold of her husband until she drags an old landline phone out of her childhood bedroom closet and calls Neal on his mom’s landline — fifteen years ago.

So yeah, there’s this weird magical conceit where present Georgie is talking to past Neal, who’s living in the week between the last time they had a huge fight and the time that Neal drove all night from Nebraska to propose. Georgie’s not sure if she’s, you know, certifiably insane, or if she’s actually talking to actual Neal and influencing the actual course of events that led to her talking on this phone now. And with all the horribleness happening in Georgie’s present, she’s not sure if she wants that course of events to stay the same.

The story jumps back and forth between Georgie’s present, where her mom is convinced that Georgie’s about to get divorced and she’s convinced she’s losing her mind, and Georgie’s way past, where she meets Neal, becomes infatuated with him, and overcomes more than a few obstacles to snag him as a husband. Fascinatingly, you can see from those flashbacks that Georgie and Neal are kind of a terrible pairing from the beginning, but it’s also obvious that they’re the kind of people who decide what they want and then stick with it and that they want to be together. Which is not something I would like, but whatever floats your boat, I guess?

I love a lot of things about this story, starting with the characters, who are fun and delightful and maybe not always the most realistic of people (unless your mom is like Georgie’s mom, in which case I want to meet her) but nonetheless realistic emotionally. I love the sort-of time-travelling conceit, which gets me absolutely every time. I love that nothing is cut and dried, from the fight at the beginning to the resolution at the end.

It’s not perfect, of course — it is especially full of clichés of grand sweeping gestures and also the beauty and optimism of snow and also the miracle of puppy birth — but it’s pretty darn awesome. My biggest lingering concern after reading this book is that I should probably get my phone fixed or replaced before its battery becomes as unreliable as Georgie’s. I don’t particularly want to find myself talking to people from my past any time soon…

Recommendation: For those looking for a fun read and some reassurance as to the normalcy of their own relationships.

Rating: 9/10

The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet, by Bernie Su and Kate Rorick

The Secret Diary of Lizzie BennetOh, The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, how I adore them. As I mentioned when I finally read it, it took me a looooooong time to work up the will to sit down and finish Pride and Prejudice, due largely to the fact that I don’t read books from that time period and didn’t understand the nuances of class and society and all the things that make that book really good.

So The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, which is a modern-day adaptation of the book as a YouTube vlog, was perfect for me. Five unmarried daughters? So what? Three underemployed daughters still living under their parents’ roof while their parents are having financial troubles? That I understand. The series made the book so much clearer and more entertaining to me, and I maaaay have watched Episode 98 more times than I am willing to quantify in a public forum. Dizzie 4eva!

Naturally, when I found out that this book, which purports to be a sort of behind-the-scenes look at the vlog and Lizzie’s life in general, existed, I had to read it. Give me all the juicy details, Bernie Su!

There are some of those juicy details, definitely, like why Jane wanted to get the heck out of Netherfield and what exactly was in the letter Darcy gave to Lizzie (which is only really hinted at in the web series) and a better look at Lizzie’s transition from hatred to tolerance to love of Darcy, and if you’ve watched the series you’re probably going to enjoy reading the book.

But the novel as a novel is… lacking. It bounces between being Lizzie’s actual diary with actual diary-type writing and being more or less an updated version of the original Pride and Prejudice novel (now with more internets!) complete with long passages of quoted conversation that you would not see in an actual diary. It sometimes obliquely references events from the web series that I didn’t quite remember and sometimes copies verbatim the script but leaves out important things like stage directions and, you know, emotions. Episode 98 appears as just such a transcript, and considering most of that episode is pregnant pauses and searching looks, it does not come across well.

I’m left wondering if I’m missing something here — I read the book as an advance copy in ebook form and I’m hoping that the finished book fills in some of the missing context or has some kind of fancy formatting that make things make more sense. Fingers crossed?

Recommendation: If you’ve watched the series, go for it. If not, go watch the series immediately. It won’t take long.

Rating: 6/10

We Were Liars, by E. Lockhart

We Were LiarsOkay, last week was a week of dud books for me. But this week? SO MUCH BETTER. This book, guys.

Really, I don’t want to tell you anything, because I think the best way to approach this book is to pretend you’ve never heard of it except it magically showed up in your hands and hey, might as well read it because there’s no arguing with magic. But also I want to tell you everything because I loved this book, so if you have any wish of reading We Were Liars in an unbiased fashion (well, mostly), just bookmark this page and come back to it when you’re done. The internet’s not going anywhere.

Okay, done? Excellent. Let’s move along.

So first of all, it is one of those books where you find out right up front that Something Terrible has happened, but you don’t know what, and in this case our narrator doesn’t know what, either, because she got herself a case of amnesia after the Something Terrible. Good job, narrator. But she knows something’s super amiss, because when she goes out to her family’s island for the summer all of her cousins are being cagey and not talking about what happened or about her in general except when she’s not around.

“Her family’s what?” you say? Yeah, so, second of all, this is one of those books about stupidly wealthy people who own islands, so. Our narrator, Cady, is one of many grandchildren of the stupidly wealthy grandfather who bought an island and built a house for himself and also for each of his children. Which is awesome, on the face of it, because private island and special island house, and more importantly entire summers spent on a private island in a special island house. I got to go to camp for a week in the summer. I did not get a private island.

But of course this is not the happiest island. Since Cady doesn’t remember the Something Terrible she remembers other summers on the island for us instead, summers called “Summer Ten” and “Summer Fourteen” because kids are pretentious like that. When Cady and her cousins are young, these summers are as awesome as I think they should be, but as the kids grow up into teenagers they realize that their families aren’t necessarily spending entire summers on a private island because they want to, and that their parents are starting to use the kids as pawns in the chess game of staying on the right side of the grandfather’s whims. Yaaaay.

So the book turns into this fairly interesting look at wealth and class and how kids learn about and deal with money and family politics, and you’re like, wow, I guess maybe I’ll pass on that private island thing after all, and then things start getting weird and you’re like OH RIGHT the Something Terrible is coming, oh crap. It becomes pretty obvious what the Something Terrible is going to be early on, which I think only makes it worse as the story gets closer and closer to it and you’re like (well, I was like), hey, stop, this is going to go poorly, why can’t you see that this is not going to end well aaaaaaaah.

I’ll admit the book has some problems, largely in the fact that it’s a token non-rich, non-white character who is more or less the catalyst for this whole unfortunate series of events, and that the Something Terrible is more than a little melodramatic.

But I loved it anyway, obviously. Between this and The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, I am pretty firmly Team E. Lockhart and I am happy that she’s got some backlist I can read in the downtime before her next sure-to-be-fantastic book comes out. To the library!

Recommendation: For those who like reading about Rich White People Problems and those with healthy hearts.

Rating: 9/10