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0340839783
| 9780340839782
| 0340839783
| 3.74
| 621
| 2005
| Feb 13, 2006
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Jan 27, 2024
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Paperback
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081122872X
| 9780811228725
| 081122872X
| 4.04
| 4,334
| 1971
| Jun 25, 2019
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Jan 06, 2024
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Paperback
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1612197590
| 9781612197593
| 1612197590
| 3.81
| 2,210
| May 07, 2019
| May 07, 2019
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Paperback
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163973242X
| 9781639732425
| 163973242X
| 4.02
| 18,652
| Jan 17, 2022
| Feb 20, 2024
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really liked it
| “Isn’t that what life is about? Forging forward with the answer you have – stumbling along the way and picking yourself up – only to one day realise t “Isn’t that what life is about? Forging forward with the answer you have – stumbling along the way and picking yourself up – only to one day realise that the answer you’ve held on to for a long time is not the right one . When that happens, it’s time to look for the next answer. That’s how ordinary folks, like herself, live. Over our life span, the right answer will keep changing.” A balm for the soul, Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop makes for the perfect comfort-read. Hwang Bo-reum’s storytelling was a delight, and I found myself wholly won over by how thoughtful and humane her novel is. A healing slice-of-life, Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop around the Hyunam-dong Bookshop, located in a small residential neighborhood outside Seoul. We meet the owner, Yeongju, a woman who by her late 30s feels burnt-out, both by her professional life and her personal one. After divorcing her husband and quitting her job, Yeongju decides to fulfil her dream and opens a bookshop. But setting up a successful business is no easy feat, and in the first few months, Yeongju is still feeling emotionally drained. So she spends most of her days crying, or looking gloomy, which does little in terms of attracting new customers. She does have a regular, an older woman who is quite frank in pointing out Yeongju’s flaws when it comes to managing the bookshop. Yeongju ends up hiring a barista, Minjun, who is also dealing with doubts about his future (starting a ‘real’ career, and so on). We then meet new regulars, some of whom end up working at the bookshops, while others end up participating in its reading clubs and or attending its various events. “Running an independent bookshop was like roaming a stretch of land without roads. There was no tried-and-tested business model. Bookshop owners live day by day, hesitant to plan too far ahead .” We gain insight into their lives, their everyday worries, their thoughts on happiness and love, and their differentiating values (should you pursue a respectable high-paying career? Should you stay in an environment that is detrimental to your mental health? How do you cope with parental pressure? If you choose to follow your dreams, does that make you selfish?). I loved how despite their differences in age and personality, they are all trying to heal, to be a little less lost, a little less lonely. “A curious feeling swept over her. The feeling of being accepted.” We are given almost a documentary-like insight into the behind-the-scenes of running a bookshop. Yeongju has to come up with ways to attract more customers, she has to weigh whether she wants to stock books that are bound to sell (because they are written by a well-known author or were mentioned by someone famous) or whether she should treat all books the same way, regardless of the likelihood that they will be bought. And what to do when someone asks for a recommendation? As a bibliophile, I was utterly absorbed by this verisimilitude approach to the publishing and book-selling scenes. Not only is the book full of literary references but we also get to read about the characters’ different opinions of the same books, debate what is and what isn’t good writing, and so on. “Because it’s our first life, worries are aplenty, and anxiety, too. Because it’s our first life, it’s precious. Because it’s our first life, nobody knows what’ll happen even in five minutes.” I loved seeing the way they connect and support one another, and I found the pace of their blossoming friendships to be really believable. There are also some bittersweet moments. We have characters confronting painful memories, thinking back to past disappointments, and or struggling to see a more fulfilling future. The author allows her characters to question themselves, their past behaviors, and their present-day feelings. The way these characters change and or consider things felt very organic, and I was almost lulled by the realistic rhythm of their thoughts and their conversations. Throughout the novel, I found myself growing fond of the Hyunam-dong Bookshop and its people. “All of you should find something you enjoy doing, something that makes you excited. Instead of pursuing what is recognised and valued by society, do what you like. If you can find it, you’ll not waver easily, no matter what others think. Be brave.” Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop is such a charming novel. Its heartwarming slice-of-life atmosphere wholly complemented Hwang's meditative and slightly melancholic storytelling. The characters, from their everyday worries to their longstanding regrets, felt like real people, and I was completely invested in their journeys. I can’t wait to read this again as I already miss Yeongju & co! ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jan 08, 2024
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Jan 11, 2024
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Jan 05, 2024
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Hardcover
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1662601816
| 9781662601811
| B0BTLDT9HT
| 3.85
| 633
| Sep 19, 2023
| Sep 19, 2023
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really liked it
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A freewheeling, off-beat, and relentlessly chaotic read, Candelaria is a rhizomatic novel that defies easy categorisation. To borrow, once again, Lady
A freewheeling, off-beat, and relentlessly chaotic read, Candelaria is a rhizomatic novel that defies easy categorisation. To borrow, once again, Lady Gaga’s words: “talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it”. Populated by bizarre characters (prone to huge leaps of logic, maundering, and dissociating from the fucked-up things that come their way), absurdist elements, and weird, sometimes gross, horror-like scenarios, Candelaria is the type of book that might make one feel that they can't make head or tail of what they are reading. Yet, I found myself wholly captivated by Melissa Lozada-Oliva’s playful dark humor and by her irresistibly irreverent social commentary. I was equal parts appalled and delighted by her characters’ tribulations. Their behaviors and responses to the small and large-scale catastrophes that come their way often verge on the surreal, reminding me very much of authors like Helen Oyeyemi, Kevin Wilson, and Ling Ma. The novel’s opening is hectic enough. Through a 2nd pov we follow Candelaria, “you”, whose daily routine is interrupted by a devastating earthquake. Her surprisingly violent response to this event is in many ways more alarming than the earthquake itself, yet, the use of the 2nd pov keeps her motivations at arm's lengths from us. We know only that for whatever reason Candelaria sets out across Boston, her destination the Watertown Mall Old Country Buffet. Undeterred by the progressively apocalyptic obstacles in her path, Candelaria is determined to reach the Buffet, a place that, somehow, is connected to the ongoing chaos around her. The novel switches between Candelaria’s ‘present’ journey to the events that lead to it. Here we meet her three granddaughters, as overwhelmed as they are overwhelming, each far too wrapped up by her own drama to realize that the weird shit happening to each one of them is connected. There is archaeologist Bianca, who is plenty book-smart but lacks self-awareness, her cold, brusque even, demeanour often sees her (in)voluntarily pushing others away. Having long been forced into the role of the reliable daughter/sister/granddaughter, she’s at a low point in her life and has just been duped & dumped by her advisor who kicked her off of her own dig back in Guatemala. Her life work in jeopardy, Bianca is licking her wounds back in Boston, where, mired by self-pity, she spends most of her time whining to her (far too) understanding housemate. We then have Candy, the youngest, who, despite her name, is brazen and mean. Candy is a recovering addict whose self-destructive antics have often been a concern in the family. A film aficionado, Candy now works at a cinema. She’s brash, extremely self-centred, and rarely thinks things true. Her attitude to life is seemingly blasé yet after she and Bianca fall out, we can see how bothered she is by it. She discovers that is pregnant after a one-night stand with a mysterious man, whose disappearance was as strange as his appearance. Worst still, her pregnancy seems to have worrisome, monstrous, side effects. And last we have Paola, newly returned to Boston having been missing for over a decade. This new Paola goes by Zoe, and has become a devout member of a cultish wellness center. Having reinvented herself, Zoe is not interested in reuniting with her family, whom she’d run away from so many years before. Throughout the novel, Lozada-Oliva plays around with so many tropes and genres that one might struggle to keep up. Often we seemingly lose sight of the plot, distracted by whatever latest bizarre thing is happening on the page (be it brainwashing, cannibalism, or the end of the world). A series of grotty, horrifying, and baffling events puncture the sisters’ seemingly disparate storylines, but, these scenarios are depicted in such an energetic way that one might, like the characters themselves, overlook the magnitude of what has happened/is happening. Lozada-Oliva's characters and their circumstances are entrenched in the absurd, at times verging on the hysterical. Yet, the humorous and grotesque elements don’t take away from Lozada-Oliva’s social commentary nor do they make the characters less humane. The narrative may poke fun at the characters but not their struggles or desires. The novel’s gritty commentary on contemporary American politics is balanced by an empathetic yet incisive portrayal of the interplay between diasporic identity and generational trauma. Family is at the heart of Candelaria, even if the sisters’ attempts at belonging, at achieving happiness and success, see them hurtling into and out of each other’s paths. I liked how the novel allows for these types of flawed characters and sisterhood to take the centrestage, showing the complex layers beneath each sister and allowing for nuance in their love/hate bond. The novel’s foray into the horror genre is particularly effective as it allows for an uncompromising examination of bodily autonomy, female monstrosity, thorny family histories, and the hunger to belong. Lozada-Oliva's approach to horror made me think simultaneously of two very different films, Julia Ducournau’s Titane and Jim Jarmusch's The Dead Don't Die, as well as Stephen Graham Jones' adrenaline-fueled horror novels (in particular My Heart is a Chainsaw). This novel is a riot, and I was wholly wholly engrossed and invested in the ongoing chaos. There were some aspects that I wish could have been tweaked slightly (the reunion is too long delayed, several storylines are left unresolved, and i could have done without the offing of a certain character). Still, given its scope, those minor flaws hardly made a dent in my reading experience. I loved Lozada-Oliva’s punchy prose, her fucked-up sort of humor, and her messed-up characters. I can definitely see this appealing to fans of Helen Oyeyemi, Kevin Wilson, Hilary Leichter, and Ling Ma, as well as to readers who enjoyed Samanta Schweblin's bizarre short stories, An Yu's murky brand of surrealism, Sam Cohen's madcap stories in Sarahland, Candas Jane Dorsey's tongue-in-cheek postmodern murder-mystery, The Adventures of Isabel , Pizza Girl by Jean Kyoung Frazier, or the realistically dysfunctional family dynamics depicted by authors like Angie Cruz and Eden Robinson. Lozada-Oliva delivers a high-octane genre-bending read that sucked me into its nonsensical, uninhibited, funny, and gross vortex. I can't wait to read it again and look forward to reading more by Lozada-Oliva. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Dec 28, 2023
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Dec 30, 2023
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Aug 28, 2023
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Kindle Edition
| |||||||||||||||
0241515076
| 9780241515075
| 0241515076
| 3.47
| 967
| Feb 02, 2023
| Feb 02, 2023
|
it was amazing
|
❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ ★ ★ ★ ★ ½ stars (rounded up) “That this was the trade-off. The price of happiness. In order to❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ ★ ★ ★ ★ ½ stars (rounded up) “That this was the trade-off. The price of happiness. In order to feel happy he had to feel everything.” A quietly crushing yet devastatingly tender work scintillating with insight and emotional intelligence. With acuity and empathy Hanna Jameson presents her readers with a captivating narrative chronicling four people’s attempts at happiness despite a looming health crisis: more and more people are literally sitting down and seemingly giving up on life. “He didn’t want to die, he just wanted to stop, to cease, sit down. Maybe just sleep, for a year or maybe forever.” Even more so than in her previous novel, The Last, Jameson bypasses the usual apocalyptic storylines, as she grounds her quietly dystopic concept firmly into reality. There is a minimalism to Jameson’s alternate/what if reality that brought to mind the subdued yet ominous world-building of authors such Kazuo Ishiguro, Emily St. John Mandel, Ling Ma, whose works are often characterized by a faintly ominous atmosphere. “Boy meets girl at a wedding and the world ends. The classic meetcute.” The novel opens at a wedding reception in NY, on a hot summer night. At first, we principally follow Yun, who is 29 and for years has been trying to make a living as a musician. He meets and is taken by Emory, a journalist who exudes wit and confidence. Their meet-cute comes to an abrupt halt when one of the s sits down and refuses to get back up. As the weeks go by, and Yun and Emory’s attraction blossoms solidify into something more solid, rumors of more and more cases reach Emory’s ears, and she decides to publish an article on the matter. This goes viral and she receives a lot of backlash. The lack of information on the whys and hows of “psychogenic catatonia” contribute to people’s growing panic and an avalanche of misinformation leads many to believe that psychogenic catatonia is either the beginning of the end or that it only affects ‘weak’ young people. Although Yun and Emory’s relationship eventually see them adopting the rhythms and routines of a couple, their dynamic shifts. Yun’s depression runs deep, casting everything around him with gloom. His self-doubt sees him pushing away those who care for him, such as Emory, his best-friend Andrew, and his own family. Perpetually dogged by his own sense of inadequacy, his growing self-absorption, even if of the miserable and negative variety, soon affects his empathy and well-being. “He wondered why he always seemed destined to be slightly too far ahead or too far behind his own life.” Emory on the other hand attempts to help him but as the world around her becomes more and more weighed by bad news, she also struggles to make sense of everything that is going on and the gnawing guilt she feels towards her article. For all her attempts to make things work and his longing to be happy, content even, their relationship continues to fray. “Emory couldn’t imagine what it felt like to inhabit space you truly owned. Cities were hostile to anyone who couldn’t count on the split rent and utilities of partnership. Being one person was more expensive than she had been taught to anticipate.” We later return to the wedding scene, except that this time we follow two different guests, Andrew and Fin. Both are there with their soon-to-be exes. They properly meet later on, in a gallery. Despite his best efforts, Andrew, a 31-year-old professor who has recently gone through a fairly amicable separation from his wife, finds himself falling for Fin. Not only does Andrew slowly come to terms with the desires and knowledge that he had so long suppressed, but he is wary of falling for Fin, a 20-year-old ballet student hailing from London. Fin too is filled with doubt, and seems always braced for the worst-case scenario, of Andrew’s inevitably disinterest, of failing at what he loves, of not being good enough. Yet, despite their worries, the two have fallen fast and hard for each other. As their relationship becomes more serious, Andrew and Yun’s friendship seems to come undone. “He wondered if a love not properly expressed mutated into something jagged and unwieldy like metal, something that could kill you.” As the characters contend with old and new hurts, hidden feelings, loneliness and longing, psychogenic catatonia continues to threaten their horizon. Jameson seamlessly switches points of view, often adopting a nonlinear narrative and or using foreshadowing to build and maintain tension. Her prose brought to mind Hanya Yanagihara, Donna Tartt, and Scott Spencer. Jameson’s prose effortlessly moves between registers: from presenting us with clear-cut and incisive descriptions (of the character’s feelings, thoughts, actions, and surroundings), to using her language to evoke with striking intimacy and poignancy the mood and nuances of a certain moment/scene. Jameson’s style maintains a balance between crisp yet opaque, at times eliciting in dazzling detail the state of mind of a character, at times allowing room for the ambiguous nature of her character’s fears and desires to shine. Her dialogues rang true to life, not only in their rhythms but in how they often revolved around or hinted at unspoken feelings. The setting, mostly ‘post’-covid NY, is brought to life. Jameson captures just how easy it is to feel lost and alone in such a city, while also incorporating discussions on current politics and on America’s healthcare service. Jameson presents us with a painfully realistic portrayal of depression: not only the many ways in which it manifests in the person affected but on its eventual effects on the people who love them; rather than indicting Yun, Jameson makes us feel for him. We eventually may grow saddened by his inability and unwillingness to accept other people’s help and the way he weaponizes his own hurt and disappointment. Despite the melancholic tone permeating much of this novel, there are so many moments and scenes that will fill readers’ hearts with hope and love. I was 100% invested in Andrew and Fin’s relationship, and seeing them be vulnerable with one another really pulled at my heartstrings. Andrew and Yun’s relationship also gave me all sorts of feelings, and I found myself filled with sorrow on their behalf. Jameson uses this ‘is the world ending?’ scenario as a backdrop to some profoundly poignant character studies and as a bouncing board to interrogate happiness, love, self-destruction, depression, suppressed and/or unrequited feelings and many more. I found Jameson’s examination of happiness thoroughly captivating. How some people set themselves up for failure and disappointment by never allowing themselves to be happy, always comparing what they have unfavourably with what they envisioned. Often, rather than wondering why they feel perpetual unhappy and dissatisfied, they blame others for not meeting their expectations. Or they hold others responsible for not making them ‘happy’. To cope with this constant sadness and satisfaction they make themselves believe that being with someone else or doing something else or being somewhere else is what will make them happy. Jameson captures the current zeitgeist, as she articulates her characters’ very contemporary malaises: from daily anxieties and depicts their experiences with precarious jobs and housing, the ever-present FOMO, ennui, and their growing nihilism at the world they live in. Many of the characters in this novel feel simultaneously unmoored yet stuck, overcome by their own impotence in face of psychogenic catatonia and a world that, against all odds, keeps going on. Psychogenic catatonia plays a symbolic role in the story, as those affected seem to be giving up on participating in life; no longer bound by social norms, they lash out at anyone who attempts to interfere with them, refusing to get up, talk or eat. Whether their ‘sitting down is an act of resistance or surrender, is a question that underlies much of the narrative. Throughout the novel, Jameson explores happiness, adulthood, loneliness, and connectedness. Her characters deal with failure, disappointment, and their own impotence, ‘smallness’, in the face of all that is going on in their world. I loved how many moments of vulnerability, kindness, and love we got. I also found myself relating very much with the many instances where characters are struggling to cope: with their own life, with their own unhappiness, and with taking accountability. Yun, Emory, Andrew, and Fin’s flaws and idiosyncrasies are what made them memorable and real. Although I am more of a Yun/Fin, Andrew had my heart. He was such a gem. His kindness, his alertness to other people's feelings, his selflessness…getting to know him was a delight. The narrative’s self-awareness adds to the story. Not only does Jameson touch upon the notion of ‘main character syndrome’ but she reflects on the concept of a narrative arc, examining stories' tendency to provide some sort of closure for their characters. Jameson resists doing this, which will inevitably annoy readers and I have to say that the what-ifs scenarios presented by the ending were the only thing that I did not love about this novel. Are You Happy Now makes for a deeply moving novel exploring the sadness and happiness of its main characters as they grapple with ordinary and extraordinary situations. While I was reading I felt many things: apprehension, joy, sadness, and tenderness. Are You Happy Now is a striking novel that for all the heartache it causes me, I look forward to revisiting again. PS: not a fan of the cover...it really doesn't have anything to do with the book's vibe. some quotes: And she thought, Oh shit, I really like him. Oh shit, because it was never a good time to realize you really liked someone. Realizing you really liked someone meant knowing on some level it was going to hurt. He was struck by the familiar feeling that someone else out there, or maybe several other people, were already living the life he was supposed to be living, were already living the life he was supposed to be living, because maybe he had been too slow or too unfocused, or just not good enough to attain it. I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t care what you were doing. It just got too much, watching you do the same thing over and over, and I realized you were never going to stop trying to become this imaginary version of yourself where you’re happy because you’re rich or signed to a big label or something huge like that. Even when things did go well, you were never happy because it wasn’t like this ultimate fantasy you already made up in your head. […] It was really hard to be around, to be with someone who was just never happy. He wondered if she had somehow felt it, felt him slipping away. But it wasn’t likely. She was just standing by him and searching for a way to help, like any normal person would. Like any good person. That’s my problem. Everyone feels like the right person, I can’t even tell the difference any more. I ride the subway and see someone reading a book I was just reading and think, Wow, maybe it’s you. It happens all the time. Someone looks at me and it’s just them. You know what I mean? Home is just a lie our brains tell us about permeance. He couldn’t stand to be looked at like he mattered, when mattering to someone was dangerous. Fin wanted with all the wide-eyed grasping of someone who’d never had, and no matter how viciously he polished the surface everyone could see it. Not because of age. Being in your thirties meant nothing. But by then, people tended to have acquired things that gradually cut them off from all the places […] they imagined more exciting lives were taking place. It was like he didn’t understand that relationships were all about power. They were about control, about who could endure the longest without visibly caring. Andrew was always giving his power away without a thought, like wasn’t ceding anything. As far as she could tell, what Yun wanted from his parents was impossible. He wanted them to have made him happy. Time will give you the illusion that you've put some distance between you and trauma, that you can stand up and walk away. But that time is elastic. The further you try to pull away, the harder it will snap you back. He couldn’t forgive them, for being human, for not getting parenthood right the first time, for not raising him better able to deal with this. Andrew waited at the bottom of the steps, wondering whether friendships burned out in the same way epidemics, hysterias and protestors do, then went up. You couldn’t actually tell people you just didn’t want to be with them any more. There had to be a better, more socially acceptable reason. By a force of habit, going back to childhood, he asked himself what part of the movie this was. The movie of his life. The main problem with his life-as-a-movie theory was that it wasn’t easy to apply to other people who weren’t the protagonists of his reality. What happened to everyone else? He wanted something too large and all-encompassing to articulate, and even if he had known what he wanted, he didn’t know how to ask. How do you ask someone if you can go back? Asking if you could both go back was too much to ask of anybody, certainly too much to ask of someone who was moving forward. He could ask for anything but more time, to go back and right that misstep. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Dec 15, 2022
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Dec 17, 2022
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Dec 07, 2022
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Hardcover
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0802117694
| 9780802117694
| 0802117694
| 3.57
| 518
| Jun 04, 2004
| Jun 04, 2004
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really liked it
| “This is what exploration had opened up the door to. Not only widespread slaughter, but the necessary accompaniment of gorging.” Unapologetically solip “This is what exploration had opened up the door to. Not only widespread slaughter, but the necessary accompaniment of gorging.” Unapologetically solipsistic and deeply manipulative, Katherine, the central character of A Carnivore's Inquiry, makes for an awful human being and a deeply entertaining narrator. A predecessor to Ottessa Moshfegh and Mona Awad’s protagonists, and many of the young women from the 'She's Not Feeling Good at All' subgenre, Katherine is a ceaselessly sardonic and relentlessly remorseless narrator with a predilection for histories and representations of cannibalism. “I was one of those people who made up for what she lacked in talent with her father’s money.” Katherine is 23 and has arrived in New York after an extended trip to Italy. She is young, attractive, and from wealth. However, she has no interest in reconnecting with her father, a man she thinks rarely of, and never with any particular fondness. Her mother has been in and out of institutions all her life, and glimpses into Katherine’s childhood reveal just how unstable she was. But Katherine is not prone to melancholy, or at least, if she thinks of the past, it is not her past that she longs or feels for, rather, she is fascinated by tales and accounts of cannibals, cannibalism itself, and nurtures a troublesome, perverse even, admiration for colonialist and their violence and usurpation against native communities. She’s often awed by accounts of violence, of madness, and of death, recounting and reimagining many of these episodes, often adopting the point of view of the person who inflicted violence upon others, or went mad, or was put in a situation where cannibalism was the only means of survival. “I find it hard to feel bad for Hansel. It’s the witch I feel for.” Katherine sets her sights on an older man, a fairly well-off writer Boris. Her momentary interest in Boris seems a consequence of boredom and a monetary desire. Soon she grows tired of Boris, a rather pathetic yet nasty person, who makes the mistake of thinking himself cleverer than her. Katherine convinces him to buy a house in rural Maine, a town that happens to have a killer on a loose. Far from bothered by this, Katherine seems comforted by the idea of this killer. Eventually, she finds herself travelling to Mexico City, and later returning to New York where she comes across some unwelcome familiar faces. As her restlessness sees her hitting the road, she forms unlikely friendships with random men she meets on her travels. All the while, bodies keep piling up wherever she goes. “[I]n our culture there was a weird enthusiasm for cannibalism. Cannibalism was a big thrill as long as we weren’t doing it.” While we know from the start that something is off about Katherine, we don’t really know just how unreliable a narrator she is. She often says and does exactly what she wants when she wants, has no trouble striking up conversations with strangers and is not put off by people not liking her. Her disregard for social niceties and norms makes her a character that is always able to surprise you. Her blithe responses to the odd, occasionally disturbing, circumstances she finds herself in are pure gold. Yet, despite knowing and being confronted with her strangeness, she retains a hypotonic quality. Her ambiguous nature drew me in, as I found myself eager to learn what was truly going on. Who is responsible for these deaths? Why is Katherine obsessed with cannibalism? What is at the root of her ennui? “After a few hurdles, my life would achieve a stunning, appealing normalcy.” Adroit, dark, and wickedly funny, A Carnivore's Inquiry is a riveting tale. The plot, however meandering, reflects Katherine’s restlessness. Aloof, duplicitous, and hungry for experience Katherine uses those around her as she pleases, both for materialistic gain and to pass away time. The novel’s historical and artistic discourses brought to mind the work of María Gainza, as here too we are given in-depth insights into art pieces and historical figures. I found A Carnivore's Inquiry's exploration of taboos, cannibalism, and violence to be sharp and subversive. I appreciated how Sabina Murray upends traditional power dynamics and challenges notions of normalcy and likeability. Her commentary on consumerism, colonialism, power structures, the ‘elite’, NY’s art and literary scene, femininity, and privilege was sly and thrilling. “The needs of appetite justified everything.” A Carnivore's Inquiry makes for a unique read, a rare treat. Not only is A Carnivore's Inquiry rich thematically but stylistically. Murray constantly keeps her readers on their toes as she shifts from genres (gothic, thriller, satire) and tones (playful, grotesque, introspective). Katherine’s voice is the book’s strength, as readers are bound to find her both fascinating and abhorrent. Her interactions are always interesting, as they often veer into the realms of the absurd (more than once david lynch came to mind). “I seem to have touched a nerve,” said Ann. My only quibble really is in regards to the Italian (chingiale should be cinghiale, seiscento should be seicento, and then gittoni should have been gettoni). And yeah that Silvano was utterly ridiculous (of course, he is a fascist) but he ended up adding to the novel's vibe of surreality. I think this would definitely appeal to fans of Moshfegh, Awad, and Danzy Senna as well as readers who are on the lookout for novels exploring 'The Female Malaise' or that centre on alienated & alienating young women. Clever, enigmatic, and atmospheric, A Carnivore's Inquiry is a novel that I look forward to rereading. I liked this so much that I am even planning on revisiting The Human Zoo, also by Murray, which I read with little fanfare last year (hopefully this time around it will win me over). re-read: a truly ingenious novel, thematically rich and written with impressive confidence. within the novel colonialism and cannibalism are deeply intwined, the monstrous desire to conquer is presented as a hunger, one that our narrator and anti-heroine feels deeply. similarly to Guadagnino's Bones and All the novel questions inherited monstrosity, especially in a mother/daughter dynamic. i loved the hazy quality permeating much of this novel, which really adds to Katherine's ambivalence. ...more |
Notes are private!
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2
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Mar 17, 2024
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Oct 13, 2022
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Hardcover
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1593767226
| 9781593767228
| B09NXPLQZX
| 3.93
| 1,087
| Sep 20, 2022
| Sep 20, 2022
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really liked it
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❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ 3 ½ stars Restrained yet acutely realistic, Tell Me I’m An Artist presents its readers with the ❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ 3 ½ stars Restrained yet acutely realistic, Tell Me I’m An Artist presents its readers with the unfinished portrait of an artist as a young woman. Throughout the course of this novel, we read of the trials and tribulations of an art school student Joey, who attempts to reconcile herself with a new existence in San Francisco. She struggles to navigate her new surroundings and often feels alienated by the wealth and stability her peers seem to enjoy. Joey enrols in a film elective and is given an assignment that despite its seeming simplicity sees her moored in procrastination. As she struggles with her initial conceit, that of remaking Wes Anderson’s 'Rushmore' despite having never seen it and relying only on other people’s recollections of it, she adopts a self-doubting mindset, and not only does she begin to doubt her portrait idea but her identity as an artist. Amidst her internal confusion Joey also has external worries pressing on her: her sister, an addict with a long history of erratic behavior, has gone MIA and left her toddler with their mother who in turn blames Joey for not helping more. Joey oscillates between feeling guilty and resentful of her mother and sister, and as she glimpses the lifestyles of her peers, well, she becomes all the more aware of how different her situation is. Her loneliness sees her seeking solace in her friendship with Suz, who seems much more sophisticated and put-together than her. Yet Suz soon reveals herself to be far less enthusiastic about their friendship. Joey’s finances also preoccupy her, especially when her family asks her for bailouts. Tell Me I’m an Artist interrogates the meaning of art, artistry, creativity and authenticity as well as questions the ways in which we attribute meaning or value to our and other people’s art. In doing so the novel offers a lot of food for thought. I appreciate Joey’s narration, which was full of acts of introspection, navel-gazing, and self-doubting, and permeated by longing and disorientation. Joey’s morphing anxieties and desires are articulated in razor-sharp prose that captures with clarity her various moods and states of mind. She may not be likeable but her likability is certainly not the point of this novel. Chelsea Martin allows her to be thorny yet occasionally pathetic, solipsistic yet perspective. Her observations of the people and world around her as well as her reflections on art, academia, and privilege all resonated with me. In rendering Joey’s unease, ennui, and disenchantment Martin demonstrates a keen eye for these difficult-to-pin-down feelings and emotions. We see how Joey’s sense of self-worth affects her art and her self-belief, leading her to procrastinate. The more she worries and agonizes over this portrait, the less she wants to do it. Personally, I found her idea somewhat interesting but as she oscillates between various methods or ways of going about it, I found myself kind of bored by it (which was probably intentional). I would have liked more from the secondary characters, as they seemed kind of hazy around the edges in terms of characterisation. In reading about Suz (whom i disliked given that she disses radiohead fairly early on in the book) I found myself wishing for Selin and Svetlana's friendship in The Idiot and Either/Or. Speaking of Batuman, Tell Me I’m an Artist will definitely appeal to fans of hers. While Martin’s novel lacks Batuman’s deadpan humor it definitely has a similar vibe, especially if we consider the way both these authors have a penchant for describing and detailing the minutiae of their narrator’s day-to-day lives. The settings too are also similar as we follow young women trying to navigate the world of academia and questioning the functions of art, language, etc. All in all, I found this novel to make for a really immersive reading experience. I liked the atmosphere, the unadorned writing (we even get pages with joey’s google searches), and the themes that are at play in it and I look forward to whatever Martin publishes next. If you are a fan of character studies and/or books focused on young women searching for something, even themselves, and attempting to understand themselves and their role in the world, such as Lucy & Wish Me Something, definitely add this to your tbr pile. I could also see this debut to readers who look for books exploring female creativity, such as Writers & Lovers by Lily King, We Play Ourselves by Jen Silverman, and Self-Portrait with Boy by Rachel Lyon. ...more |
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Sep 28, 2022
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Oct 2022
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May 12, 2022
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Kindle Edition
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4.54
| 293
| Aug 01, 2018
| 2022
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not set
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Apr 16, 2022
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1646141318
| 9781646141319
| 1646141318
| 4.18
| 1,114
| May 03, 2022
| May 03, 2022
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it was amazing
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❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ in The Dove in the Belly, it's all about the ❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ in The Dove in the Belly, it's all about the ...more |
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2
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Jan 02, 2023
May 16, 2022
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Jan 03, 2023
May 17, 2022
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Sep 08, 2021
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0063092786
| 9780063092785
| 0063092786
| 4.43
| 38,719
| Nov 23, 2021
| Nov 23, 2021
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really liked it
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❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ 4 ½ stars “As it turned out, Sooki and I needed the same thing: to find someone who could see u❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ 4 ½ stars “As it turned out, Sooki and I needed the same thing: to find someone who could see us as our best and most complete selves. Astonishing to come across such a friendship at this point in life. At any point in life.” Ann Patchett is easily one of my favourite authors of all time. The Dutch House and The Magician's Assistant are absolute favourites of mine and I’ve also loved her previous collection of essays, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, which managed to bring me hope during one of my ‘down in the doldrums' phases. This is all to say that I will read anything by Patchett. These Precious Days, her latest, is yet another winning addition to her already impressive oeuvre. While many of these essays are preoccupied with death and mortality they ultimately struck me as life-affirming. In some of these essays, Patchett writes about her family, in particular of her relationship with her three fathers. There are also essays in which she looks back to her ‘youthful’ days, for example, of that time when she and a friend were so taken by the tattoos of a Parisian waitress that they were determined to also get tattooed. Patchett also gives us insight into her married life, writes of her love for dogs, of her relationship to Catholicism, of that year she gave up shopping, and of authors, she admires such as Eudora Welty and Kate DiCamillo. It is difficult for me to articulate just how much comfort I find in Patchett’s ‘voice’ but within a few pages of her first essay, I found myself immersed in that which she was recounting. Patchett has a knack for rendering both people and space and it was easy to be transported by her writing. Of course, the ‘These Precious Days’ essay is this collection’s crowning glory. In this essay, Patchett writes of her friendship with Sooki, Tom Hanks’ assistant. This was such a moving and thoughtful essay, one I look forward to revisiting again. Patchett’s meditations on death, mortality, family, friendship, and creativity definitely struck a chord with me. I loved learning about her childhood and I appreciated those glimpses into her everyday life. Reading this inspiring and beautifully written collection of essays was a balm for my soul. ...more |
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1
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Nov 24, 2021
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Nov 25, 2021
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Jul 06, 2021
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Hardcover
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0802158765
| 9780802158765
| 0802158765
| 3.73
| 19,811
| Nov 02, 2021
| Nov 09, 2021
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really liked it
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❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ “You become a creature I can’t understand, my mother sometimes said to me.” Having loved Lily ❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ “You become a creature I can’t understand, my mother sometimes said to me.” Having loved Lily King’s Writers & Lovers I was looking forward to reading more of her work and I can happily say (or write) that her first-ever collection of short stories did not disappoint. More often than not I find short story collections to be a mixed bag (with some good ones, some meh ones, and even a bad egg or two). But, I found myself drawn to all of the stories in Five Tuesdays in Winter. While the stories focus on characters who don’t always have much in common (be it their age, the time when and/or place where they are living, their fears or desires) their narratives are characterised by a bittersweet tone that will elicit feelings of nostalgia in the reader (regardless of whether they have experienced what the characters are experiencing). Despite the title of this collection many of these stories are set during the summer and easily transport us right there alongside the characters so that we too are experiencing the heat, elation, and almost-surreality of their summer holidays (that feeling of being free from the usual routines etc). King captures with unsparing clarity the thoughts and feelings of her characters, and conveys their wide range of emotions, honing in on the longing, unease, giddiness, and sadness they experience over the course of their stories. Some are in love with someone who may or may not reciprocate their feelings, others are in a phase of transition, for example, from childhood to adulthood, or mired in the confusion of adolescence. In the first story, ‘Creature’, Cara, a fourteen-year-girl, is employed by a well-off family as a babysitter for the summer holidays. During the time she spends at this family’s house she becomes infatuated with Hugh, her employer's son, who is much older than her. Our narrator is an aspiring author who likes to envision herself as a Jane Eyre sort of figure but, one thing is to daydream about Hugh, another is realising that Hugh has no compunction about making a move on her (when she’s very much underage). In ‘Five Tuesdays in Winter’ a single-father and bookseller falls for his employer who is also tutoring his daughter in Spanish. Mitchell is however unable to express his feelings and spends much of his time longing to confess his love to her. In ‘When in the Dordogne’ the son of two professors bonds with the two college students who have been hired to housesit his home and keep an eye on him. In ‘North Sea’ a mother and daughter are on vacation together but their strained relationship results in a less than idyllic time. While the following stories also present us with different perspectives and scenarios they explore similar themes (hope, connection, love). I liked how King manages to be both a gentle and an unflinching storyteller, that is able to make you happy one moment and sad the next. I also appreciated that the stories didn’t have neat endings or ‘valuable’ life lessons but often read like a slice-of-life that is providing us with a glimpse into a specific period of her characters’ lives. King captures how confusing feelings can be sometimes, so that we have characters both longing for something or someone while at the same time feeling uneasy at the possibility of attaining what, or who, they’d thought they desired. My favourites were ‘Creature’, ‘When in the Dordogne’, ‘Timeline’, and ‘Hotel Seattle’. King’s understated prose is a marvel to read and I had a wonderful time with this collection. If you were a fan of Writers & Lovers you should definitely pick this one up. Moving and wistful Five Tuesdays in Winter is a scintillating collection! ARC provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. ...more |
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1
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Aug 13, 2021
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Aug 15, 2021
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May 26, 2021
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Hardcover
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1681377373
| 9781681377377
| 1681377373
| 4.20
| 1,980
| 1959
| Apr 11, 2023
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None
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0
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not set
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Apr 25, 2021
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0307387542
| 9780307387547
| 0307387542
| 4.07
| 1,820
| 1948
| Mar 08, 2016
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None
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Apr 05, 2021
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1783786736
| 9781783786732
| 1783786736
| 4.29
| 37,745
| Nov 27, 2019
| Oct 13, 2022
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really liked it
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❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ “You have something of mine, I passed on something of me to you, and hopefully it isn’t cursed❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ “You have something of mine, I passed on something of me to you, and hopefully it isn’t cursed, I don’t know if I can leave you something that isn’t dirty, that isn’t dark, our share of night” Although I have previously quoted Lady Gaga’s iconic "talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it." to describe my feelings for another book, I can’t help but use them again in this review as they really capture my sentiments & thoughts towards Our Share of Night. “He also remembered his father’s words, nothing can hurt you now, how long was now, how long did the present last?” This is an elaborate genre-bending work that defies easy categorisations. Even a summary or a rundown of the story would not do it justice. It is dark, grotesque, obscure, and frankly mind-boggling. Yet, the way Mariana Enríquez manages to combine together tropes, themes, and aesthetics associated with the fantasy, gothic, and horror genres is utterly mesmerizing. Much of the narrative is animated by a fraught father-son relationship, one that is complicated by monstrous inheritances and destinies, sickness, and a history of violence, abuse and destruction. Over the course of the novel, Enríquez weaves together an unsettling tapestry, one that I was unable to look away from. As Enríquez navigates haunted people and places, the price of power and privilege, and the dark side of faith, she incorporates motifs of the uncanny and the Other while also presenting us with striking, and frankly horrifying, images of the abject and the sublime. While there is much brutality and cruelty within the pages of Our Share of Night, those almost work towards making those rare moments of lightness and tenderness all the more precious. The writing has this cinematic quality to it, one that results in some visually arresting & often disturbing scenes. The characters populating the story defy easy categorisation, with the exception perhaps of the older members of the Order (who are all f*cking evil). Ambivalence permeates the story and its characters, whose motives and desires more often than not elude and alienate us, allowing plenty of room for interpretation. “There is no greater disappointment than to believe oneself the chosen one and not to be chosen.” The narrative begins in January 1981 with a road trip. Juan, recently widowed, is in his late 20s and making his way from Buenos Aires with his son to visit his in-laws' estate, in northeast Argentina. His choice to drive there seems rather injudicious given the country’s climate of terror, and that his in-laws had bought him airplane tickets. But Juan needs to spend time alone with his son, Gaspar, as he is desperately trying to protect him from his own faith. His in-laws are prominent members of the Order, a cult formed by nauseatingly wealthy people who have powerful connections all over the world. The Order, we learn, has exploited Juan not only for his ability to see and commune with the dead but because his body can host the Darkness. To summon it they are willing to commit atrocities that defy human comprehension, be it enslaving and torturing children or driving their own members insane in ways that are too repulsive to mention here. Juan knows that the Order has its sights on Gaspar, and is painfully aware that he won’t be alive long enough to watch over him so he hatches a desperate plan to keep his son safe, even if it requires him to commit his own cruelties and even if it will inevitably push his son away from him. “I’m going to miss him, he thought, I’ll be glad when he’s gone because without him it’ll be easier to stop being sad, but I’m going to miss him…” We are later reunited with Gaspar in 1985 where we read of his bond with three other children, and of his fraying relationship with his father Juan, whose mercurial behaviour he can never predict or comprehend. The dictatorship’s aftermath, 80s popular culture and memorable events, make for a vivid backdrop against which Gaspar and his friends grow up. A sense of growing unease obfuscates much of his childhood, as his father begins to act in an increasingly incomprehensible and ‘deranged’ way. But Juan refuses to let Gaspar in, and in doing so their relationship begins to fray. Resentment and confusion lead Gaspar to find solace in his group of friends…but after one of their daring exploits takes a devastating turn, nothing is ever the same for them. “It had the look of a spot where something bad had happened: an expectant air. Evil places wait for evil things to reoccur, or else they seek it out.” We then learn more about Gaspar’s mother, a woman who was complicit in the horrors and agenda of the Order, but someone who nonetheless was trying to steer the power away from the evilest people in the cult, her mother included. Her devotion to the Darkness and her inability to understand its true repercussion and ramifications (most of all on Juan) did not endear her to me. But her youth and upbringing do play a part in the way she understands this force and even if I could not bring myself to like her I appreciated that she wasn't made into a saint-like figure (the typical dead mother of the 'chosen one'). “There is no arguing with faith, though. And it’s impossible to disbelieve when the Darkness comes. So, we trust, and we go on. At least, that’s what many of us do.” The novel concludes with a traumatized Gaspar trying to live with and make sense of his father’s dark inheritance. Here Enríquez interrogates the realities of living with the kind of baggage Gaspar is carrying around, and of the way, his exposure to some Dark Shit™ has irrevocably changed him. As I said, this story is Dark. The type of dark that requires every trigger warning under the sun. While there are certain scenes and some elements within the story they do toe the line with being gratuitous and sensationalistic, what ultimately comes through is the empathy Enríquez demonstrates towards her core characters. There is a lot of politically incorrect language (particularly when talking about disabilities, amputees, poc & lgbtq+ ppl) but given the story’s setting, it seemed ‘realistic’ enough. Sure I did question the choice to have the only really explicit sex scenes be between men, and how we had to have a scene of a young teen questioning his sexuality just happen to ‘spy’ on two men having sex or his having to be enamoured with his straight best friend (i am kind of done with this trope tbh) but these are minor criticisms. I did mostly like the way Enríquez challenges the gay/straight dichotomy and the story’s esoteric take on the ‘androgyne’. Additionally I also liked that she incorporated the Guaraní language (as well as some beliefs) in her story. My heart went out to Gaspar, even when he acted in a way that made me (or his loved ones) despair. True, the boy could be a bit basic (on his first crush: Belén “wanted too study engineering: she was different from other girls”; and: “the woman, though older, was beautiful; she wore no make-up—Gaspar didn’t like how make-up looked, especially lipstick”) but Enríquez really manages to make us feel and understand his struggle. From a child living in a solitary house with his inscrutable & volatile father, whose capacity and propensity to hurt him often leaves him feeling confused and afraid, to a teenager and young adult wracked by guilt and haunted by a force he cannot begin to comprehend, Gaspar is subjected to so much sorrow, sadness, and abuse throughout this story that it is impossible not to feel for him, especially when we witness how the years have eaten away at him. Enríquez also allows us to understand, never quite condone, Juan and his ways, and it was heartbreaking to see how much his experiences with the Order change him. “Even wih all the hatred, contempt, ambivalence, and repulsion he felt towards the Order, that power was still his, and he didn’t posses many things. Renunciations is easy when you have a lot, he thought. He had never had anything.” While the Order’s ideology and the way it operates are ultimately as horrifying as they are mystifying, we witness (first-hand or not) the terrifying lengths that they will go to achieve their goal. Their willingness and eagerness to exploit vulnerable people is reprehensible, and yet their wealth and ancestry (most are of white european heritage) endow them with the belief that they are more deserving than others, that their lives are more valuable. In addition to crafting a brutal yet gripping tale about the lengths a father will go to to protect his son, Enríquez gives Gaspar’s own coming-of-age storyline a horror spin, making Our Share of Night into a difficult to pigeonhole novel. There were also so many details related to the time period the story unfolds in that made the setting seem hyper-real (making those places of horror all the more unsettling). Yet, while Enríquez’s nuanced portrayal of 80s Argentina grounds the characters in reality, their experiences with otherworldly forces ultimately transport them (and us) into more fantastical and macabre places. While Our Share of Night is a distinctly unique book, I was reminded of several authors & books, the most obvious being Stephen King (a hotel room? a child seeing dead ppl? a group of kids who are dealing with some-thing-place that is truly evil?), Neil Gaiman, Scott Hawkins, the Dyachenko's Vita Nostra, T. Kingfisher’s The Hollow Places, Stephen Graham Jones, Elizabeth Hand, Helen Oyeyemi, Cadwell Turnbull’s No Gods, No Monsters (which i didn’t get but i might revisit it having loved this), Alex Landragin’s Crossings and quite a lot of horror collection of short stories, written by authors such as Amparo Dávila, Octavia E. Butler, and Sayaka Murata. I was even reminded of Stranger Things & Baccano!. So if you happen to like any of the names I just mentioned you should definitely consider picking up Our Share of Night. I much preferred it to Enríquez’s short stories, so even if you like me, were not particularly taken by her storytelling there, I recommend you give this a chance. I am definitely planning on re-reading this (perhaps opting for the italian translation instead or hey ho since i am moving to spain soon i might even one day be able to read the original). ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jun 29, 2022
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Jul 05, 2022
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Mar 29, 2021
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Hardcover
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1526609142
| 9781526609144
| 1526609142
| 4.14
| 4,947
| Oct 16, 2001
| Nov 15, 2018
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it was amazing
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Haunting, heart-wrenching, luminous, and lyrical, Edinburgh is as beautiful as it is harrowing. It certainly my made my heart ache. Rarely have I read
Haunting, heart-wrenching, luminous, and lyrical, Edinburgh is as beautiful as it is harrowing. It certainly my made my heart ache. Rarely have I read a novel that is able to capture with such precision and intensity the ways in which trauma affects one's memory and one's perception, of one's own self, of the spaces one inhabit, and of the people around them. There is a fragmented quality to Fee’s recollection of childhood and adolescence, that makes us all the more aware of what is being elided. Alexander Chee is a wordsmith, whose prose expresses the duality between beauty and ugliness, between pain and joy, between self-restraint and vulnerability, between loneliness and connection, between intimacy and unknowability. There is something quietly devastating about Chee’s portrayal and interrogation of trauma, shame, guilt, and grief. His prose echoes the way Fee’s psyche has been irrevocably altered by the abuse he was subjected to and by his belief that he is complicit in the abuse of the other victims. Fee’s narration at times is strikingly evocative, as he hones in on a sensation, an image, a feeling or a thought, bringing that moment to life with startling intensity. Yet this razor-sharp clarity sometimes gives way to moments that are more ambiguous, and opaque, where we are given fleeting impressions or a single snapshot, but not the whole picture. Fee looks back to his childhood, when aged 12, he joined his local boys' choir. Despite becoming close to several of the other boys, Fee is keenly aware of his difference. Not only he is the only Korean-American kid in the choir, and often subjected to peoples’ prying about ‘what he is’, but for the way he feels about his best friend, Peter. We soon become aware that the director of the choir, Big Eric, acts strangely with his students and his predatory behavior only escalates when he takes them to a summer camp. Although Big Eric mainly targets boys who are blue-eyed and blond, Fee doesn’t escape his ‘notice’. The abuse Fee experiences muddy his feelings for Peter, who is also being abused by Big Eric. Big Eric seems to ‘know’ that Fee is gay, something that he uses to his advantage, as he tries to make Fee believe that paedophilia is ‘natural’, that it was ‘normal’ in the ancient world, and is not frowned upon is more ‘progressive’ countries. Big Eric also seems jealous of Fee's closeness to Peter and Zach, another boy in the choir. Although Fee remains distrustful and repelled by Big Eric, he begins to view his own desire as something ugly, something he has to be ashamed of, and something that he has to keep a secret. Believing that if the rest of the world knew Big Eric, they would know about Fee himself, he dissuades Peter from telling the adults about their ongoing abuse. The boys don’t talk about the abuse, as if dissociating themselves from it and Big Eric, but despite their not talking about it they grapple with the pain, shame, and fear abuse leaves in its wake. Chee counterpoints the anxiety, confusion, and misery they experience because of Big Eric, with scenes and moments that are almost idyllic: Fee swimming with the other boys, playing with them, or spending time with his grandparents who recount to him a family legend that comes to resonate deeply with him. Yet, these moments of lightness, of contentment, are often tinged with unease, and no matter how hard Fee tries to separate himself from his abuse, he cannot escape the reality of it. Eventually, Big Eric is arrested. Fee’s family is horrified to learn the truth and struggles to make sense of something that is beyond ‘sense’. Fee continues to feel weighed down by his feeling of guilt, and more and more he finds himself thinking of death, his own one in particular. And when the two people who were closest to him, the two people who knew what it was like to go through what they went through, are no longer there, Fee is unmoored. When Fee becomes the researcher for a history scholar he reads a letter by a Norman in 14th-century Edinburgh who, following the outbreak of the plague, is sealed off, in what should have become a cathedral. The only survivor, buried alive, the writer envisions being able to return to the world outside, where he will “Disguise myself from those who know me to be dead”. This idea, of a burial and of a reemergence, of death and rebirth, sparks something in Fee, and he feels compelled to create a series of tunnels on a nearby hilltop. Yet, the past is unrelenting and Fee finds himself haunted by it as he heads off to university. There Fee finds himself projecting his feelings for Peter onto his roommate, even if doing so will just cause him more sorrow. Self-destructive, lonely, and unable to reconcile himself with his own existence, Fee seeks numbness, nothingness, and unknowability. But it is there that he begins to test and explore his own creativity, in particular with ceramics, and begins to envision not quite a life of happiness but a way out. Years later Fee has a boyfriend and works as a teacher at a high school not far from where he grew up. One of his students, Warden, bears a striking resemblance to Peter, and despite his desire and efforts to leave his past behind and to break away from destructive patterns, Fee struggles to distance himself from Warden. His efforts are made all the more difficult by the fact Warden has grown deeply infatuated with him. When Big Eric is released, the situation becomes all the more precarious. Edinburgh is one of those novels I find hard to talk/write about as it is one of those books I didn’t read as much as I experienced. Chee exerts enormous restraint throughout the narrative so that not one word feels wasted or inconsequential. The depth and intensity of Fee’s feelings are often rendered indirectly, sometimes through their absence, or they appear faraway as if submerged by water. Fee’s connection to the tale of Lady Tammano, a fox who transforms into a girl after falling in love with a man, gives his narrative a dreamlike quality, as this myth becomes a lens through which he views his experiences. Fee’s voice is captivating, even if we are not always privy to his motivations or his innermost feelings and thoughts. Rather we are given after-images of what he feels and thinks, in a way that feels far more evocative than having them laid out on the page. For all the beauty of Chee’s language, this novel is permeated by unease. From the opening pages to the very last ones, I was filled with apprehension, yet, unable to do anything but read on. Chee is unsparing in his depiction of trauma, guilt, grief, and, trickier still, the absence of feeling. Yet, he displays such emotional intelligence and empathy that his narrative never feels gratuitous or shallow. There was a lot in here that resonated with me, especially when it comes to Fee’s longing for someone who is no longer there or unable to reciprocate his feelings, as well as his bone-deep yearning to be gone. There are so many motifs, like those of fire, water, silence, and singing, that makes the narrative all the more evocative. Despite the story’s heavy themes, Edinburgh is a work of scintillating beauty. Chee is able to present his readers with a gripping coming of age, an acute character study, and a heart-wrenching exploration of abuse and its aftermath. ...more |
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1
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Feb 04, 2023
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Feb 07, 2023
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Feb 24, 2021
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Paperback
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B09W14K6JB
| 4.14
| 128,693
| Jan 10, 2023
| Jan 10, 2023
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really liked it
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❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ That was what Lethe and the societies demanded. Secrecy. Loyalty. Well, fuck them. In Hell Bent ❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ That was what Lethe and the societies demanded. Secrecy. Loyalty. Well, fuck them. In Hell Bent, the long-awaited sequel to the high-octane Ninth House, we are reunited with the danger-prone and dangerous Alex Stern. Still recovering from her several near-death experiences, and attempting to keep up with her coursework and maintain the facade of being a regular(ish) student, Alex is determined to rescue Darlington from hell. Of course, opening a door to the underworld is no easy feat and it very much goes against protocol. After a botched attempt risks exposing their plans to the Board, Alex and Dawes enlist the help of some willing and not-so-willing allies. Whereas Ninth House is propelled by a murder mystery, by Alex’s own mysterious past and unreliability, and by Darlington’s disappearance, the storyline in Hell Bent feels more like a quest of sorts, as Alex and Dawes have to sift through ancient texts and old journal entries to try to locate an artefact that may help them in their attempts to reach hell. Alex also has to deal with some unfinished business from her past, as she once finds herself tangled in some shady business and comes across a new foe that may just be out of her league. Additionally, the deaths of two faculty members also force Alex to question how and if it is connected to their quest to rescue Darlington. Whereas the societies played a large role in Ninth House, here the focus remains on Alex and Dawes’ efforts to reach and rescue Darlington. They are soon forced to the realization that the Darlington they will find is no longer the gentleman that they knew. Alex is as always a messy and compelling character who often careens about danger. She is also tenacious, a survivor, and she will stop and do nothing to get Darlington back, not only because of guilt but because she genuinely misses him. Throughout the course of the novel, which, unlike Ninth House, takes place over a relatively short amount of time, we see her trying her hardest to do better, for others, and for herself. It was lovely to see her partnership with Dawes solidify into an unlikely friendship, and I also found myself liking her quarrelsome dynamic with Turner not exactly smooth out but becoming something resembling acceptance, respect even. While Leigh Bardugo continues her critique of academia and patriarchal power structures, in Hell Bent we are mostly confronted with actual demons, who seem to be very much embodiments of vice. Sure, we are reminded of how unjust the power wielded by the secret societies, and of how their access to magic was often used to maintain the status quo and wielded against marginalized communities. Lethe’s latest protector did feel a bit heavy-handed, in how openly misogynistic and regressive he was. What we learn about him also struck me as slightly clichéd and given the lack of confirmed lgbtq+ characters a bit of a letdown. Still, I appreciated Bardugo’s commentary, on wealth, on the power of knowledge, and on privilege, as well as her nuanced yet unflinching portrayal of trauma. Alex’s voice is utterly compelling. She is by no means an easy character to like or root for but, like and root for her I did. Yes, she’s full of grit and seems unrelentingly resourceful, but we once again see her more vulnerable side. From her confused feelings and yearning for Darlington, to the affection she feels for Dawes and Mercy. Her grief, over Hellie, over the kind of life she could have had if she had never seen the Grays, haunt her even as she tries to forge a future that resembles normalcy. I do wish that Alex stopped blaming herself for everything, as she is often doing her fucking best for the people she cares about. The setting was edgy and atmospheric, once again combining urban fantasy, Gothic, and academia aesthetics. Magic in these pages is often ugly, which is something refreshing and honestly subversive. So I was a bit disappointed by certain aspects of Alex’s quest. They seemed a bit vanilla, and, while the narrative does seem self-aware of this, it still gave me HP vibes (let’s just say it has to do with the gangs' ‘powers’). Overall this was a gripping read. The storyline maintains a good balance between character and plot development. There are moments of levity and humor that counterpoint scenes that are darker, and more intense. Bardugo's banter is entertaining, witty, and really solidifies the developing and shifting dynamics between Alex and other characters. The world-building is as enticing as it was in Ninth House and Darlington's faith, which hangs in the balance, will undoubtedly keep readers turning pages. The chemistry between Darlington and Alex is at an all-time high and scenes exploring their attraction and kinship were gold. While the first half is more of a slow burn after the halfway mark things really take off and shit hits the fan as Alex is against several adversaries. Despite not being driven by mystery as Ninth House was, Hell Bent is certainly a suspenseful read as Alex and Dawes' mission to save Darlington is constantly under threat. First of all, they have to carry it out in secret, they have to figure out how they will get to him, and eventually, they also have to confront their darkest moments. After that ending, and having grown very fond of Alex and the rest of her crew, I can't wait to read the next book in this series. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jan 10, 2023
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Jan 12, 2023
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Jan 29, 2021
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Kindle Edition
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0374265267
| 9780374265267
| 0374265267
| 3.97
| 5,014
| Aug 03, 2021
| Aug 03, 2021
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it was amazing
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❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ 4 ½ stars (rounded up as this is a debut) “We were fixed to one another, like parts of some str❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ 4 ½ stars (rounded up as this is a debut) “We were fixed to one another, like parts of some strange, asymmetrical body: Frances was the mouth; Mary Lucille, the heart; Therese, the legs. And I, Agatha, was the eyes.” Agatha of Little Neon is a gem of a novel. Claire Luchette’s prose is a delight to read, its deceptive simplicity bringing to mind authors such as Anne Tyler and Ann Patchett. From the very first pages, I was taken by Agatha’s thoughtful introspections—on her sisters, the people around her, her new community, the church—and her quiet wit. Not only does Luchette demonstrate huge insight into human nature but I was always aware of how much empathy she had towards the people she’s writing of, regardless of who they are. While I was reading Agatha’s story it was clear to me that Luchette cared deeply about her characters, and she showcases both tenderness towards and understanding of her characters ( their struggles, desires, ‘flaws’, regrets). “No one could understand why I hated talking, why it was so much work to come up with something to say. It was even more work to make it true or funny or smart. And then when you’d come up with it, you had to say it, and live with having said it.” Agatha’s voice drew me in, so much so, that it seemed almost to me that I had been transported alongside her to Little Neon. After their parish experiences, some financial setbacks Agatha and her three sisters are relocated to Woonsocket where they will be staying at a halfway home, ‘Little Neon’. Over the previous 9 years the four sisters have led a symbiotic existence but once in Woonsocket Agatha finds herself growing apart from them. While her sisters stay at Little Neon, where they are meant to watch over its residents, Agatha teaches geometry at a local all-girl school. Here, for the first time in years, she is alone and unsupervised and this new independence forces her to reconsider who she is and what she wants. These realizations dawn on her slowly and over time, which made her ‘journey’ all the more authentic. Agatha is a quiet and observant person who was drawn to the Church by her faith in God and by her desire to belong. For years her sisterhood with Frances, Therese, and Mary Lucille fulfilled her longing for connection but once she begins living at Little Neon she finds herself growing attached to its various residents in a way her sisters do not. “How horrible, how merciful, the ways we are, each of us, oblivious to so much of the hurt in the world.” Much of the narrative focuses on seemingly mundane, everyday moments. Meals, chores, trips to the local shops, car journeys. Yet, many of these scenes carry a surprising weight. These ‘small’ moments are given significance, Agatha, and by extension, us, may come to know someone else better or she finds her mind drifting to her past, her faith, her sisters. Throughout the course of Agatha’s story, Luchette shows, without telling, the many ways in which the Church disempowers, exploits, and silences its women. Luchette’s commentary on the Church and its hierarchies and inner workings never struck me as didactic. Agatha’s disapproval of the Church does not result in loss of faith, something that I truly appreciated. Luchette’s meditations on Christianity, sisterhood, loneliness, longing, belonging were truly illuminating. The author’s prose is graceful without falling into sentimentalism. In fact, some of the imagery within the story is quite stark and much of the narrative is permeated by a gentle but felt melancholy. This made those moments of connection and contentment all the more heartfelt and special. There was a sense of sadness too, one that often resulted in many bittersweet moments. And, this particular line broke my heart as it reminded me of Jude from A Little Life: “I don’t think I have the constitution for it. For being alive.” Agatha of Little Neon is an exquisite debut novel. The writing is beautiful, the characters compelling, the narrative moving. While it won’t appeal to those who are interested in plot-driven stories, readers who are seeking rewarding character arcs and/or thematically rich narratives should definitely consider picking this up. ARC provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Jul 30, 2021
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Aug 2021
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Jan 27, 2021
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Hardcover
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0439895979
| 9780439895972
| 0439895979
| 3.62
| 54,561
| May 24, 2011
| May 24, 2011
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really liked it
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/ / / Read more reviews on my blog / / / This novel proved to be the perfect 'escape' read. While I may not have been enamoured by every single book I' / / / Read more reviews on my blog / / / This novel proved to be the perfect 'escape' read. While I may not have been enamoured by every single book I've read by Libba Bray (the finales to her series left me a wee bit unsatisfied) I do consider her to be an amazing writer and a favourite of mine. Usually, however, her books are in the realms of the 'historical', so I wasn't sure what to except from Beauty Queens, I just knew that after watching a certain series I fancied a Lord of the Flies kind of tale (with a female ensemble). And wow...Bray sure delivered. Beauty Queens was everything I didn't know I wanted. This is the kind of satirical teen comedy that will definitely appeal to fans of classics such as Heathers, But I'm a Cheerleader, and Mean Girls. The story, writing, and characters are all over the top in the best possible of ways. This is the funniest book I've read in 2020. Beauty Queens begins with 'the Corporation' addressing us readers, “This story is brought to you by The Corporation: Because Your Life Can Always Be Better™. We at The Corporation would like you to enjoy this story, but please be vigilant while reading”. We are also told to keep vigilant as the story we are about to read may have some 'subversive' content. Throughout the novel there are footnotes by 'the Corporation', sometimes advertising ridiculous products and sometimes professing distaste or disapproval over a certain scene. The novel mainly follows nine beauty queens contestants who after surviving a plane crash that killed the majority of the other contestants (one for each state) find themselves on a seemingly deserted island. Rather than focusing on two or three contestants, Bray gives each of these nine beauty queens a backstory (I think only three contestants do not receive this treatment). We start with Adina, Miss New Hampshire, an aspiring journalist who joined the contest only to expose how misogynistic it is. At first Adina is snarky and not a great team player. Although she calls herself a feminist she has very 'fixed' notion of feminism, and her relationship with the other contestants will slowly challenge her previous views (on the contest itself, on liking thinks deemed 'girly',etc.). She immediately takes against Taylor, Miss Texas, the 'leader' of the surviving beauty queens. Taylor insists that they should keep practicing their routines for the contest as she believes that help is on the way. Taylor is badass, and I definitely enjoyed her character arc (which definitely took her down an unexpected path). We then have many other entertaining and compelling beauty queens: Mary Lou, who becomes fast friends with Adina in spite of their seemingly opposing views when it comes to sex; Nicole, the only black contestant, who wants to be a doctor but has been time and again been pressured into contests by her mother; participating as the only black contestant faces racism from the contest itself and the her peers; Shanti, an Indian American girl from California, who initially sees Nicole as 'competition' but as time goes by finds that she is only who understands how challenging it can be to navigate predominately white spaces; Petra, a level-headed girl who faces a different kind of prejudice; Jennifer, a queer girl who loves comics and has often been deemed a 'troubled kid'; Sosie, who is deaf and always feels that she has to be happy in order to make others feel more 'comfortable'; and, last but not least, Tiara, who at first seems like a comedic character, the ditzy or dumb blonde, but who soon proves that she is a very empathetic girl. The girls don't always get on with one another. In spite of their different backgrounds, interests, and temperaments, they have all been made to feel inadequate or 'too much'. As if surviving a deserted island wasn't difficult enough a certain corporation is running some secret operation not far from the girls' camp. Throw in some pirates/reality show contestants and there you have it. Bray satirises everything under the sun: reality shows, beauty contests, pop culture, beauty products, corporations. While some of her story's elements may be a bit 'problematic' in 2020, her satire never came across as mean spirited. In the end this is a story about acceptance and female solidarity. Bray shows all the ways in which society pressures and controls teenage girls, allowing for diverse perspectives and voices. Most of all, this novel is hilarious. Bray handles her over the top storyline and characters perfectly. What more can I say (or write)? I loved it. This is the kind of uplifting read I would happily re-read. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Dec 16, 2020
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Dec 18, 2020
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Dec 16, 2020
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Hardcover
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0062277022
| 9780062277022
| 0062277022
| 3.91
| 23,511
| May 10, 2016
| May 10, 2016
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really liked it
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❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ 4 ½ stars “They spoke in both languages. We love you, don’t cry. Sorrow eats time. Be patient.❀ blog ❀ thestorygraph ❀ letterboxd ❀ tumblr ❀ ko-fi ❀ 4 ½ stars “They spoke in both languages. We love you, don’t cry. Sorrow eats time. Be patient. Time eats sorrow.” Unsparing yet profoundly touching LaRose chronicles the aftermath of a tragic accident: it's 1999, when, on a reservation in North Dakota, Landreaux Iron, hunting for a deer near his property, accidentally shoots and kills Dusty, the 5-year-old son of his friend and neighbor, Peter Ravich. This act carves a chasm between the two families, once connected by friendship, now blood: not only the one spilt by Landreaux but by his and Peter’s wives, who are half-sisters. Peter and his wife Nola are bereft, but their pain manifests itself in vastly different ways. Nola spirals into her grief and her mercurial mood swings see her alternate between bottomless depression and frantic hostility. Plagued by sorrow and guilt Landreaux’s old wounds threaten to reopen: the abuse and humiliation he experienced at a boarding school, and the years lost to addiction. Seeking a way to make amends to the Ravich and to pacify the restless ghosts of his past, Landreaux and his wife, Emmaline, turn to an ancient custom of retribution. They take their youngest, and sweetest, child, LaRose, to the Ravichs, telling them that from now on he will be their son. This act binds the families together, but their bond, fraught with mutual resentment and suffering, rather than bringing them together, estranges them further. At first, a confused and heartbroken LaRose longs to be reunited with his parents and siblings. As the days and weeks go by he begins to understand the role he must shoulder in the wake of Dusty’s tragic death. To soothe Nola’s loss he becomes her child, and in so doing he grows closer to his ‘new’ sister, Maggie. In their united efforts to survive Nola’s dark moods, which see her trapped in vicious cycles of hysteria and paranoia, they develop a touching kinship. Although LaRose’s presence is a great comfort to Maggie, her toxic and suffocating bond with Nola sees her attempt to rebel against her. The more she witnesses Nola’s despair the more Maggie wants to lash out against the world. Although Nola grows morbidly attached to LaRose, she cannot escape the pain brought about by her grief. Rather than be overwhelmed by sadness however Nola chooses to hate: her husband, for failing to save or avenge her son, her inscrutable and vicious daughter, her half-sister, and, of course, Landreaux. After they give LaRose to the Ravichs, Landreaux and Emmaline drift away from one another. Both mourn LaRose, and Emmaline inevitably comes to blame Landreaux for being separated from him. Her other children, especially her two girls, Josette and Snow, do provide joy in her life, however, she is heartsick over LaRose. Landreaux too suffers, but he does this in silence. He visits the site of Dusty’s death and turns that horrific moment in his mind many times. Eventually, LaRose comes to spend time with both of his families, offering comfort and relieving them of their sorrows. As he shuttles between his two families he begins bringing them closer together. Both sisters, Nola and Emmaline, seek counsel from the local priest, Father Travis, a white man whose infatuation with one of them sees him testing the limits of his faith. Another major player is Romeo, a former friend of Landreaux and now his sworn enemy, who, seeking revenge, begins sowing discord between the two families. Interspersed throughout we have glimpses of LaRose’s ancestors, who share his namesake, such as the LaRose who in the 1830s was sold by her mother at a trading post and eventually comes to act revenge on her rapist. Our LaRose shares a connection with these LaRoses and can glimpse that world that remains unseen to other people. The narrative is unremitting in its portrayal and exploration of grief, pain, and trauma. Erdrich renders all of the different shapes these experiences have on a person: some withdraw into themselves, and others, like Nola and Romeo, let their grief and hurt fester into something insidious, and malignant so that eventually, their pain turns into hatred and resentment. Or for Maggie, who not only experiences directly her mother’s volatile moods but comes to burdened by the responsibility of preventing her from committing suicide, she develops a sadistic and destructive streak. Erdrich examines the many ways in which traumas and generational trauma inform the worldview and existences of these two families and rancorous men like Romeo. The narrative brings together stories about people trying to survive, their painful pasts and unbearable presents, and of people who seek oblivion, and are surviving despite their best attempts not to. Erdrich doesn’t condemn or judge her characters, rather she lets the characters judge themselves and each other. Despite how unsparing Erdrich is in capturing their emotional, financial, and physical suffering, she does so with empathy. Her prose is razor-sharp when it comes to describing the characters’ inner turmoils or conveying the state of mind behind their actions. Time and time again we see characters falling into the same traps, as they remain haunted by their past mistakes or they remain fixated on their grudges and their pain. The complex dynamics between the characters are always compelling, whether they are upsetting or heartwarming. I loved the bond between the various siblings: from Maggie and LaRose to Josette and Snow. Despite the heavy themes and the characters’ bleak circumstances, the narrative retains a strong sense of humor, a humor that perhaps is only possible because of the harrowing nature of its story. The characters are able to laugh despite and or because of their pain, and their laughter often is what keeps them from succumbing to their pain, their grief, and their resentment. There were so many touching moments in this novel. Moments where characters are able to connect with one another, and to see, understand, and share one another’s pain. There is comradeship and loyalty, in the face of grief and violence, between friends, between siblings. Erdrich authentically renders the voices of characters who are at very different stages of their lives: from the youngest one, LaRose, who in many ways is far wiser than the adults around him, to Maggie’s turbulent entry into adolescence, and the loneliness and regrets experienced by Nola, Romeo, and Landreaux. I found myself utterly absorbed by these two families and their shared stories. The dialogues and the setting are vividly rendered, from the rhythm of the characters’ conversations, be it tense and weighted with tense silences, or light and easy, like Josette and Snow's tos and fros. There are many intriguing dynamics that I found myself wanting to read more of. I also wanted to read more about Hollis, Romeo's son who grows up with the Irons, and Willard (aka coochy). At times the characters' motivations and intentions remain slightly out of our reach, something that might annoy some readers, but it was something that to me added rather than took away from the story. At times feelings are clouded by ambivalence, either because we truly don't know why we feel a certain way, or because we deep down know but don't want to admit it to ourselves. In LaRose readers are presented with a rich tapestry weaving together multiple perspectives and experiences. From the voices of LaRose’s ancestors to the ones of the characters directly affected by Dusty’s death. Throughout the novel, we read of people coming together and apart, of dysfunctional relationships and families, of people mired by their grief, their pain, their traumas and pain, of unspoken desires, of characters seeking their oblivion, other times their absolution, of the silences and distances that are created in the wake of tragedy, of Native identity and traditions, of pasts that haunt and of pasts that can heal, of resentment and forgiveness, of selflessness and its opposite… Erdrich’s engrossing storytelling, which can be blunt and colloquial as well as subtly lyrical and profoundly evocative, is bound to captivate readers. Erdrich is able to offer intimate close-ups of these two households and makes these fit into the larger pattern of life. There is a rhythm to Erdrich’s storytelling, created by the conversation between past and present, beginnings and endings, that occur throughout her narrative. At once haunting and uplifting LaRose recounts a family drama steeped in tragedy, hatred, and love. Erdrich smoothly blends realism with myth, the result of which is at once striking and heart-wrenching. ...more |
Notes are private!
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1
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Dec 25, 2022
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Dec 27, 2022
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Oct 26, 2020
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Hardcover
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luce (cry baby)
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wishlist
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my rating |
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3.74
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not set
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Jan 27, 2024
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4.04
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not set
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Jan 06, 2024
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3.81
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not set
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Jan 05, 2024
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4.02
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really liked it
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Jan 11, 2024
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Jan 05, 2024
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3.85
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really liked it
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Dec 30, 2023
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Aug 28, 2023
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3.47
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it was amazing
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Dec 17, 2022
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Dec 07, 2022
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3.57
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really liked it
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Mar 24, 2024
Jan 06, 2023
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Oct 13, 2022
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3.93
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really liked it
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Oct 2022
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May 12, 2022
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4.54
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not set
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Apr 16, 2022
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4.18
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it was amazing
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Jan 03, 2023
May 17, 2022
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Sep 08, 2021
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4.43
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really liked it
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Nov 25, 2021
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Jul 06, 2021
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3.73
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really liked it
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Aug 15, 2021
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May 26, 2021
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4.20
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not set
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Apr 25, 2021
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4.07
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not set
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Apr 05, 2021
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4.29
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really liked it
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Jul 05, 2022
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Mar 29, 2021
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4.14
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it was amazing
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Feb 07, 2023
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Feb 24, 2021
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4.14
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really liked it
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Jan 12, 2023
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Jan 29, 2021
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3.97
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it was amazing
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Aug 2021
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Jan 27, 2021
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3.62
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really liked it
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Dec 18, 2020
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Dec 16, 2020
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3.91
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really liked it
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Dec 27, 2022
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Oct 26, 2020
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