The Two Family House by Linda Cohen Loigman

The Two Family House My Rating: 4.9

Brooklyn, 1947: in the midst of a blizzard, in a two-family brownstone, two babies are born minutes apart to two women. They are sisters by marriage with an impenetrable bond forged before and during that dramatic night; but as the years progress, small cracks start to appear and their once deep friendship begins to unravel. No one knows why, and no one can stop it. One misguided choice; one moment of tragedy. Heartbreak wars with happiness and almost but not quite wins.

At first glance, The Two-Family House feels like a cozy story of two Brooklyn families sharing one home—one living upstairs, the other downstairs. There’s a sense of intimacy and nostalgia in the setting, and the relationships between the families draw you in right away.

But what begins as a portrait of family life soon deepens into something much more layered. Loigman takes us inside the hearts and minds of her characters, showing how a single decision can alter not only one person’s path but the future of everyone connected to them. The ripple effects stretch across decades, touching marriages, children, and friendships in ways both tender and heartbreaking.

What I especially appreciated was how the novel balanced the predictable with the unexpected. There are moments when you can see a choice coming, and yet the consequences are never as simple as they seem. That complexity made the story feel real—the kind of messiness that defines life itself. Love, secrets, regret, and growth all intermingle as the characters evolve, showing how time can both heal and deepen old wounds.

By the end, The Two-Family House is not just a story about two families under one roof—it’s a meditation on how families are shaped by loyalty, silence, and the courage (or lack thereof) to face the truth. It’s a novel that lingers, because it reminds us how profoundly we are all changed by the choices we make and the ones we don’t. The more I read this author, the more I love her stories. Highly recommend! ♥

The Lightkeeper's Daughters by Jean E Pendizwol

The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughters My Rating: 3.6

Though her mind is still sharp, Elizabeth's eyes have failed. No longer able to linger over her beloved books or gaze at the paintings that move her spirit, she fills the void with music and memories of her family, especially her beloved twin sister, Emily. When her late father's journals are discovered after an accident, the past suddenly becomes all too present.

With the help of Morgan, a delinquent teenager performing community service at her senior home, Elizabeth goes through the diaries, a journey through time that brings the two women closer together. Entry by entry, these unlikely friends are drawn deep into a world far removed from their own, to Porphyry Island on Lake Superior, where Elizabeth's father manned the lighthouse and raised his young family 70 years before.

As the words on those musty pages come alive, Elizabeth and Morgan begin to realize that their fates are connected to the isolated island in ways they never dreamed. While the discovery of Morgan's connection sheds light onto her own family mysteries, the faded pages of the journals will shake the foundation of everything Elizabeth thinks she knows and bring the secrets of the past into the light.

While The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughters kept me engaged and eager to discover the outcome, I found some aspects distracting. The frequent and often excessive swearing, from Morgan, felt jarring—especially in contrast to the sweet, elderly Elizabeth. Morgan could have been portrayed as strong, street-wise, or rebellious without relying so heavily on crude language, which seemed unlikely for a teenager in many scenes. Maybe it wouldn't have been so offensive it wasn't on audio where I was constantly hearing it.

Additionally, the story felt a bit long-winded at times and could have benefited from tighter editing. That said, the narrative was compelling enough that I stayed with it until the end. Overall, it’s a mixed experience: frustrating in style, but captivating in plot.