Genre Fiction
![Taylor Jenkins Reid - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B00DX8B85M.jpg)
Malibu Rising: A Novel
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • Read with Jenna Book Club Pick as Featured on Today • From the author of Daisy Jones & The Six and The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo . . .
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: The Washington Post, Time, Marie Claire, PopSugar, Parade, Teen Vogue, Self, She Reads • "Irresistible . . . High drama at the beach, starring four sexy, surfing siblings and their deadbeat, famous-crooner dad."-People
Four famous siblings throw an epic party to celebrate the end of the summer. But over the course of twenty-four hours, the family drama that ensues will change their lives will change forever.
Malibu: August 1983. It's the day of Nina Riva's annual end-of-summer party, and anticipation is at a fever pitch. Everyone wants to be around the famous Rivas: Nina, the talented surfer and supermodel; brothers Jay and Hud, one a championship surfer, the other a renowned photographer; and their adored baby sister, Kit. Together the siblings are a source of fascination in Malibu and the world over-especially as the offspring of the legendary singer Mick Riva.
The only person not looking forward to the party of the year is Nina herself, who never wanted to be the center of attention, and who has also just been very publicly abandoned by her pro tennis player husband. Oh, and maybe Hud-because it is long past time for him to confess something to the brother from whom he's been inseparable since birth.
Jay, on the other hand, is counting the minutes until nightfall, when the girl he can't stop thinking about promised she'll be there.
And Kit has a couple secrets of her own-including a guest she invited without consulting anyone.
By midnight the party will be completely out of control. By morning, the Riva mansion will have gone up in flames. But before that first spark in the early hours before dawn, the alcohol will flow, the music will play, and the loves and secrets that shaped this family's generations will all come rising to the surface.
Malibu Rising is a story about one unforgettable night in the life of a family: the night they each have to choose what they will keep from the people who made them . . . and what they will leave behind.
ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: The Washington Post, Time, Marie Claire, PopSugar, Parade, Teen Vogue, Self, She Reads • "Irresistible . . . High drama at the beach, starring four sexy, surfing siblings and their deadbeat, famous-crooner dad."-People
Four famous siblings throw an epic party to celebrate the end of the summer. But over the course of twenty-four hours, the family drama that ensues will change their lives will change forever.
Malibu: August 1983. It's the day of Nina Riva's annual end-of-summer party, and anticipation is at a fever pitch. Everyone wants to be around the famous Rivas: Nina, the talented surfer and supermodel; brothers Jay and Hud, one a championship surfer, the other a renowned photographer; and their adored baby sister, Kit. Together the siblings are a source of fascination in Malibu and the world over-especially as the offspring of the legendary singer Mick Riva.
The only person not looking forward to the party of the year is Nina herself, who never wanted to be the center of attention, and who has also just been very publicly abandoned by her pro tennis player husband. Oh, and maybe Hud-because it is long past time for him to confess something to the brother from whom he's been inseparable since birth.
Jay, on the other hand, is counting the minutes until nightfall, when the girl he can't stop thinking about promised she'll be there.
And Kit has a couple secrets of her own-including a guest she invited without consulting anyone.
By midnight the party will be completely out of control. By morning, the Riva mansion will have gone up in flames. But before that first spark in the early hours before dawn, the alcohol will flow, the music will play, and the loves and secrets that shaped this family's generations will all come rising to the surface.
Malibu Rising is a story about one unforgettable night in the life of a family: the night they each have to choose what they will keep from the people who made them . . . and what they will leave behind.
Editorial Reviews
"If summer could somehow fit into a book, then you'd find it in Malibu Rising."-Oprah Daily
"Reid has once again crafted a fast-paced, engaging novel that smoothly transports readers between decades and story lines."-The Washington Post
"Taylor Jenkins Reid soars with Malibu Rising."-Associated Press
"Reid delivers a breathtaking, epic family novel."-Marie Claire
"A compulsively fun read."-Today
"Reid's descriptions of Malibu are so evocative that readers will swear they feel the sea breeze on their faces or the grit of the sand between their toes. . . . A compulsively readable story about the bonds between family members and the power of breaking free."-Kirkus Reviews
"Whatever Reid releases has become a major literary event. And her latest more than lives up to the expectations."-E! Online
"Malibu Rising is a fun, unforgettable read."-Business Insider
"Delicious drama."-Vogue
"A must-read."-Parade
"Taylor Jenkins Reid sure knows how to tell a story. . . . It's an unforgettable book about an unforgettable night."-HelloGiggles
"Reid has once again crafted a fast-paced, engaging novel that smoothly transports readers between decades and story lines."-The Washington Post
"Taylor Jenkins Reid soars with Malibu Rising."-Associated Press
"Reid delivers a breathtaking, epic family novel."-Marie Claire
"A compulsively fun read."-Today
"Reid's descriptions of Malibu are so evocative that readers will swear they feel the sea breeze on their faces or the grit of the sand between their toes. . . . A compulsively readable story about the bonds between family members and the power of breaking free."-Kirkus Reviews
"Whatever Reid releases has become a major literary event. And her latest more than lives up to the expectations."-E! Online
"Malibu Rising is a fun, unforgettable read."-Business Insider
"Delicious drama."-Vogue
"A must-read."-Parade
"Taylor Jenkins Reid sure knows how to tell a story. . . . It's an unforgettable book about an unforgettable night."-HelloGiggles
Readers Top Reviews
Fly Me to the Moo
I loved Daisy Jones & the Six, and liked Evelyn Hugo. Malibu Rising is sadly not as good as either even though there's a lot to love in here. I think the main problem is that it is under-developed and sort of half-written. A couple more drafts and some editing, re-arranging and cutting would have elevated this novel to the standard this author is capable of. It feels as if her publisher might have rushed her into print too soon. Or her editor blew smoke up her posterior & told her it was fantastic when it was still a work in progress. I think this author is incredibly talented and I will read her next one and I'm not sorry I read Malibu Rising it's just not what it should have been.
E. HerrFly Me to
Daisy Jones was exciting and behind the scenes honest, Seven Husbands mysterious and Hollywood-sexy. Malibu has a bit of it all, with great atmosphere - I had to stop reading on the first day and go to the beach! Great release timing on a beach-read, June 1st! I love how Reid can expertly transport readers to another world - another time and place. It is commendable how she is not dedicated to one era, but reinvents her interests for each novel (sort of like Ruta Sepetys writes brilliant historical fiction of varied, often-forgotten times in history). I cannot wait to see where Reid takes us next! Malibu Rising reminds me of Alice Hoffman's writing - multi-generational, character-driven, family-oriented. Both are brilliant story tellers. Reid's writing is modern, exciting, sexy. There is room for both, of course- If you love Reid, check out Hoffman as well. I love Reid's wittiness, her astute life observations. I often feel I am getting great advice on love, life, and the world, as I read. She writes fierce, flawed, and astounding female characters. I love them all. The characters of Malibu Rising, like her others, stick with you long after you've finished reading. You find yourself wanting to catch up with them, see how they are doing. Like a tv drama you love, you get to know the love the characters and you have to tune in every week to catch up on their lives. In that way, I am sad this story is over and I miss them already. ;-) That is my true indication of brilliant character writing, when I can't stop thinking about the characters long after the book has been finished! While I was reading, I thought perhaps the party scene went on a bit too long, it seemed like never ending catch-up with many secondary characters that I did not necessarily care about. But I realize now after giving it some time, that that approach lent to the hurried, almost anxious feel of a party out of hand - what are these people doing? What has happened over here? How is this couple getting along now after an argument? What was that shattering sound? I can see the scene playing out in a movie, hurried camera work, anxiously scanning the party as everything comes to a head. Unsolved problems, characters lost, secrets untold, all come to a head. As I remember myself hurriedly reading, impatient to get back to what is going on with the main characters, I realize that is exactly what Reid had planned, expertly designed. Well done. Another great novel, thank you!
Short Excerpt Teaser
Our family histories are simply stories. They are myths we create about the people who came before us, in order to make sense of ourselves.
The story of June and Mick Riva seemed like a tragedy to their oldest child, Nina. It felt like a comedy of errors to their first son, Jay. It was an origin story for their second son, Hud. And a mystery to the baby of the family, Kit. To Mick himself it was just a chapter of his memoir.
But to June, it was, always and forever, a romance.
• • •
Mick Riva first met June Costas when she was a seventeen-year-old girl on the shores of Malibu. It was 1956, a few years before the Beach Boys got there, mere months before Gidget would begin to beckon teenagers to the waves in droves.
Back then, Malibu was a rural fishing town with only one traffic signal. It was quiet coastline, crawling inland by way of narrow winding roads through the mountains. But the town was coming into its adolescence. Surfers were setting up shop with their tiny shorts and longboards, bikinis were coming into fashion.
June was the daughter of Theo and Christina, a middle-class couple who lived in a two-bedroom ranch home off one of Malibu's many canyons. They owned a struggling restaurant called Pacific Fish, slinging crab cakes and fried clams just off the Pacific Coast Highway. Its bright red sign with cursive type hung high in the air, beckoning you from the east side of the highway to look away from the water for just one moment and eat something deep fried with an ice-cold Coca-Cola.
Theo ran the fryer, Christina ran the register, and on nights and weekends, it was June's job to wipe down the tables and mop the floors.
Pacific Fish was both June's duty and her inheritance. When June's mother vacated that spot at the counter, it was expected that it would be June's body that filled it. But June felt destined for bigger things, even at seventeen.
June beamed on the rare occasion that a starlet or director would come into the restaurant. She could recognize all of them the second they walked in the door because she read the gossip rags like bibles, appealing to her father's soft spot to get him to buy her a copy of Sub Rosa or Confidential every week. When June scrubbed ketchup off the tables, she imagined herself at the Pantages Theatre for a movie premiere. When she swept the salt and sand off the floors, she wondered how it might feel to stay at the Beverly Hilton and shop at Robinson's. June marveled at what a world the stars lived in. Just a few miles away and yet impossible for her to touch because she was stuck serving french fries to tourists.
June's joy was something she stole between shifts. She would sneak out at night, sleep in when she could. And, when her parents were at work but did not yet need her, June would cross the Pacific Coast Highway and rest her blanket in the expanse of sand opposite her family's restaurant. She would bring a book and her best bathing suit. She would fry her pale body under the sun, sunglasses over her eyes, eyes on the water. She would do this every Saturday and Sunday until ten-thirty in the morning, when reality pulled her back to Pacific Fish.
One particular Saturday morning during the summer of '56, June was standing on the shoreline, her toes in the wet sand, waiting for the water to feel warmer on her feet before she waded in. There were surfers in the waves, fishermen down the coast, teens like her laying out blankets and rubbing lotion on their arms.
June had felt daring that morning and put on a blue gingham strapless bikini. Her parents had no idea it even existed. She'd gone into Santa Monica with her girlfriends and had seen it hanging in a boutique. She'd bought it with money she'd saved from tips, borrowing the last three dollars from her friend Marcie.
She knew if her mother saw it, she'd be forced to return it or worse yet, throw it out. But she wanted to feel pretty. She wanted to put out a signal and see if anyone answered.
June had dark brown hair cut into a bob, a button nose, and pert bow lips. She had big, light brown eyes that held the giddiness that often accompanies hope. That bikini held promise.
As she stood at the shoreline that morning, she felt almost naked. Sometimes, she felt a little guilty about how much she liked her own body. She liked the way her breasts filled out her bikini top, the way her waist pulled in and then ebbed out again. She felt alive, standing there, partially exposed. She bent down and ran her hands through the cold water rising up to her feet.
A twenty-three-year-old, as-yet-unknown Michael Riva was swimming in the surf...
The story of June and Mick Riva seemed like a tragedy to their oldest child, Nina. It felt like a comedy of errors to their first son, Jay. It was an origin story for their second son, Hud. And a mystery to the baby of the family, Kit. To Mick himself it was just a chapter of his memoir.
But to June, it was, always and forever, a romance.
• • •
Mick Riva first met June Costas when she was a seventeen-year-old girl on the shores of Malibu. It was 1956, a few years before the Beach Boys got there, mere months before Gidget would begin to beckon teenagers to the waves in droves.
Back then, Malibu was a rural fishing town with only one traffic signal. It was quiet coastline, crawling inland by way of narrow winding roads through the mountains. But the town was coming into its adolescence. Surfers were setting up shop with their tiny shorts and longboards, bikinis were coming into fashion.
June was the daughter of Theo and Christina, a middle-class couple who lived in a two-bedroom ranch home off one of Malibu's many canyons. They owned a struggling restaurant called Pacific Fish, slinging crab cakes and fried clams just off the Pacific Coast Highway. Its bright red sign with cursive type hung high in the air, beckoning you from the east side of the highway to look away from the water for just one moment and eat something deep fried with an ice-cold Coca-Cola.
Theo ran the fryer, Christina ran the register, and on nights and weekends, it was June's job to wipe down the tables and mop the floors.
Pacific Fish was both June's duty and her inheritance. When June's mother vacated that spot at the counter, it was expected that it would be June's body that filled it. But June felt destined for bigger things, even at seventeen.
June beamed on the rare occasion that a starlet or director would come into the restaurant. She could recognize all of them the second they walked in the door because she read the gossip rags like bibles, appealing to her father's soft spot to get him to buy her a copy of Sub Rosa or Confidential every week. When June scrubbed ketchup off the tables, she imagined herself at the Pantages Theatre for a movie premiere. When she swept the salt and sand off the floors, she wondered how it might feel to stay at the Beverly Hilton and shop at Robinson's. June marveled at what a world the stars lived in. Just a few miles away and yet impossible for her to touch because she was stuck serving french fries to tourists.
June's joy was something she stole between shifts. She would sneak out at night, sleep in when she could. And, when her parents were at work but did not yet need her, June would cross the Pacific Coast Highway and rest her blanket in the expanse of sand opposite her family's restaurant. She would bring a book and her best bathing suit. She would fry her pale body under the sun, sunglasses over her eyes, eyes on the water. She would do this every Saturday and Sunday until ten-thirty in the morning, when reality pulled her back to Pacific Fish.
One particular Saturday morning during the summer of '56, June was standing on the shoreline, her toes in the wet sand, waiting for the water to feel warmer on her feet before she waded in. There were surfers in the waves, fishermen down the coast, teens like her laying out blankets and rubbing lotion on their arms.
June had felt daring that morning and put on a blue gingham strapless bikini. Her parents had no idea it even existed. She'd gone into Santa Monica with her girlfriends and had seen it hanging in a boutique. She'd bought it with money she'd saved from tips, borrowing the last three dollars from her friend Marcie.
She knew if her mother saw it, she'd be forced to return it or worse yet, throw it out. But she wanted to feel pretty. She wanted to put out a signal and see if anyone answered.
June had dark brown hair cut into a bob, a button nose, and pert bow lips. She had big, light brown eyes that held the giddiness that often accompanies hope. That bikini held promise.
As she stood at the shoreline that morning, she felt almost naked. Sometimes, she felt a little guilty about how much she liked her own body. She liked the way her breasts filled out her bikini top, the way her waist pulled in and then ebbed out again. She felt alive, standing there, partially exposed. She bent down and ran her hands through the cold water rising up to her feet.
A twenty-three-year-old, as-yet-unknown Michael Riva was swimming in the surf...
