Recent Reads #47 | In which everything is just pretty good

A standout thread across these recent reads is how “pretty good” can still mean sharply different things: some novels land with voice and emotional texture, while others feel like they’re carrying too much plot, too many perspectives, or too much unresolved material. The strongest recommendation is Pizza Girl by Jean Young Fraser, a gritty, sardonic story about an 18-year-old pizza delivery worker who becomes fixated on a pregnant customer (Jenny) after delivering a very specific pizza for her eight-year-old son. The narrator’s relationship with Jenny—along with the dynamics involving the boyfriend, the mother, and grief—builds quickly enough to feel urgent, even as the book’s realism becomes almost surreal through hyper-specific detail. The main complaint is not that the premise fails, but that the middle could use a few more “beats” to deepen the escalation and make the core relationship development hit harder.

Several other books land as “contenders” but miss in execution. Miyako Kawakami’s Then We Meet All the Lovers in the Night (translated by Sam Bett and David Boyd) centers on Fuyuko, a lonely copy editor who finds comfort in Christmas Eve walks until a physics professor enters her life. Many readers describe the novel as dreamy and tender, but the reviewer felt the emotional heat stayed low at key points—sad, yes, but not as immersive or transformative as expected, especially given how familiar the “sad lonely girl” setup already feels. We Touch by Lauren John Joseph brings an intricate queer web of relationships and a compelling main character, yet the reading experience bogs down: scenes repeat, the middle meanders, and the book’s slow-and-dense style drains momentum despite strong craft.

Cairo Circles by Doma Mahmoud is praised for its gripping central storyline: an Egyptian youth in New York gets caught in a media storm after a terrorist attack, spiraling under attention while his voice stays close and engaging. The problem is structural. Other POVs feel distant and aimless, and the ending’s need to tie everything together makes the narrative feel like it’s wading through multiple voices to return to the one that mattered most.

The list also includes books where the reviewer’s frustration is tied to unresolved or under-extracted stakes. How to Set a Fire and Why by Jesse Ball features Lucia, a teen drawn to an arson club, with a voice that feels intensely true to adolescence. But certain events—like a sex scene witnessed by Lucia’s mother in a psych hospital that never gets discussed again—seem inserted without the emotional unpacking the situation demands. Marilou Is Everywhere by Sarah Elaine Smith similarly has a morally complex concept (a poor girl taking over the life of a missing, affluent girl) but engages it only briefly, while the focus on family relationships becomes repetitive.

Other titles are admired for atmosphere and craft even when pacing or scope disappoints: Great Circle by Maggie Shipstead is rich and beautifully voiced across two time periods, but long and sometimes bloated; The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water by Zen Cho is conceptually strong yet crowded with dialogue and too many relationships for its length; Tear by Erica McKean delivers genuinely creepy basement horror, though flashbacks crowd out the most hypnotic material. The final pick, The Sleeping Car Porter by Suzette Mayer, is described as a fever-dream journey centered on Baxter, a Black sleeping car porter in 1929 saving for dentistry school while compulsively confronting erotic postcards—an endearing, disorienting character study where the highest-tension train-stuck segment arrives late and could have been lingered on.

Overall, the reviewer’s “pretty good” lens is personal and subjective: what matters most is voice, emotional resonance, and whether the book’s structure serves its central heart—because even strong writing can feel underpowered when escalation, stakes, or narrative focus don’t fully land.