Very readable and enjoyable for the most part. I thought that it ended rather abruptly and parts of the ending were a little too pat. ( )

I read this book on a strong recommendation - and it lived up to its hype. I was surprised to learn it is a first book - it seems very accomplished for a debut. It used the technique of chapters rotating between the 4 main characters. At its core it's a story of relationships - a marriage falling apart & the grown son struggling with PTSD, a young immigrant boy trying to figure out how to survive a sudden tragedy, a damaged soldier trying to find meaning in his life on his return home, and a CPS woman trying to make the world better for shattered families and hurt children. The 2 storylines I really enjoyed were the damaged soldier and the lovable young boy - Each of the characters was well developed (except maybe the CPS woman) and had distinctive voices. It's a sad, distressing, almost depressing book, but with moments of care and love that save it. I found many insightful passages; here's a fave:

"But if, sometimes, an unspeakable horror arises from the smallest error, I choose to believe that it's possible for an equally unimaginable grandeur to grow from the tiniest gesture of love. I choose to believe that it works both ways. That great terror is the result of a thousand small but evil choices, and great good is the outcome of another thousand tiny acts of care."

Highly recommended - I think this book would lend itself well for bookclubs..... ( )

This is a well-written first novel, lots of great discussion points for a book club. I would have given it 5 stars if not for the predictability of the outcome. Loved it and highly recommend it! Not the most upbeat beach read though, ladies.... ( )

It’s hard to deal with all of the tragedy in the world right now. Reading We Are Called To Rise was cathartic for me. I cried and cried. I was relieved at the “happy” ending, even if it was unrealistic. Who picked this book?

It was not the easiest story to read, one that covers the gamut of domestic violence, immigration, racism, war, post- traumatic stress, death, grief, foster care, suicide, and addiction…

Interestingly, all those who “rise” are women. There’s Avis, the mother of the war veteran Nate. There’s Roberta, the Court Appointed Services Advocate and defender of children; the abueula (grandmother) of Luis a traumatized war vet; Mrs. Monaghan, Baskim’s teacher, Dr. Moore, the elementary school principal, Mrs. Delain, the foster mother; and, even the victim, Bashkim’s mother.
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This contemporary debut is told in the first-person voices of four people who never should have met--Bashkim, a child of struggling immigrants; Luis, a young, wounded soldier; Avis, a mid-fifties suburban wife whose husband has just asked for a divorce; and Roberta, a children's Court Appointed Special Advocate. The plot is, essentially, a domino of events that bring these characters together. The author paints Las Vegas as a character no less vivid than the people who live there, giving memorable texture to this character-driven story.

WE ARE CALLED TO RISE is a strangely uneven offering that presents several symptoms of the debut novel. Most notably, the author doesn't seem to trust the intelligence of her readers, especially with regard to her themes: paying it forward, random acts of kindness, the butterfly effect, the resiliency of human nature. All of these are hammered into us until Bashkim's final-page epiphany holds less punch than it should. Really, though, Bashkim (and Avis and Roberta) don't need to think these profound thoughts in the first place. The events and the characters' choices would have led us to the profound thoughts for ourselves, if they had been allowed to do so. Hopefully, Ms. McBride's next novel will be written with greater faith in her readers and therefore greater subtlety.

As for the characters themselves, maybe other readers will latch onto Roberta and/or Avis. I never did. Roberta especially has no depth of character; she exists mostly to give the reader information or to opine about the themes and the personality of Las Vegas (the latter of which is interesting). More happens to Avis, but she still frequently comes across as a theme megaphone for the author. And when she's human, her willful blindness to her son's problems is frustrating. Sure, there are parents who delude themselves this far, but I could never feel sorry for her. Ironically, given the themes of reaching out to others, Avis seems abnormally self-centered. Maybe that was the point--a theme mirror of sorts? But I never found her all that unique or compelling as a character.

The boys, though. Eight-year-old Bashkim is a marvelous, realistic kid. His teachers call him a worrier, and his explosively angry father has given him good cause to be. He's somber and conscientious, longs to play sports at school but knows his family doesn't have the money, enjoys watching the sharks in the marine lab. His voice is authentic, perceiving more than the adults realize but convincingly immature when he should be. The things he wonders about, the things he misinterprets--poignant and sweet. Then there's Luis, a Las Vegas native deployed to Iraq, who we meet in a DC hospital after a head injury he can't remember. His voice starts out almost as childlike as Bashkim's (if more profane, appropriately), struggling to remember and even to compose thoughts. The reader learns what happened to Luis as he learns to process and cope with both PTSD and his brain injury. The letters written back and forth between him and Bashkim demonstrate his struggle to regain his verbal skills. He and Bashkim are well written characters, with more detailed personalities than Avis or Roberta's.

The plot moves along at a suitable pace, and I was engaged throughout. The climax/conclusion, however (the final act is both of these), jumps right off the plausibility cliff. I don't believe this would ever, ever happen. I simply don't. The author could have wrapped up her theme in several other ways that would have been hopeful yet still believable. Of course, I'm referring to the judge granting custody of Bashkim and Tirana to Luis's grandmother. Who doesn't know them. Whom they do not know. Who has never been a foster parent before, as far as we're told. And who is also housing/caring for a physically challenged (for now, at least) adult male with PTSD and TBI and the expected mood issues attending both these conditions. How does this judge's decision make any sense whatsoever?

In addition, quite a bit of the dialogue feels more "informational" than human in its content, often stilted. It's also spotted with unnecessary "yeses" and "nos" and character naming with every new speaker (general examples, not exact quotes: "Roberta, I think we should ..." "Well, Marty, I don't agree..." "But, Roberta..." "I said no, Marty...").

Had the conclusion been a bit more plausible, the dialogue more natural, and the themes less spoon-fed, this would have been a four-star book for me. I found myself invested in the plights of Bashkim and Luis. I wanted them to find safety and healing. I even wonder what will happen to them next and would read a sequel about them. This novel is an unusual mix of things that work and things that don't, but on the whole, I'm glad to have met Bashkim and Luis and Laura McBride's Las Vegas. ( )