The Awakening is one of those books which my sense is has never quite escaped its national context—Americans, I think, are likely to read it in high sThe Awakening is one of those books which my sense is has never quite escaped its national context—Americans, I think, are likely to read it in high school or uni but as a "classic" it's far less known in other countries. I only heard of it, and Kate Chopin's other short stories, a few years ago, and decided to read it out of curiosity about it as a piece of early feminist literature.
Having now read it, I can certainly appreciate why Chopin's work was rediscovered by second wavers, grappling as it does with questions of freedom, control, marriage, and motherhood. Both Edna—the main character in The Awakening—and several of Chopin's other female characters struggle with these questions in various ways. But while Chopin's prose is well-crafted, and there are some lovely moments of character observation, I found myself largely unmoved by her work. Her writing is not bad, but it didn't speak to me. I didn't particularly connect with any of the characters in The Awakening itself, and the short stories felt too much like hybrids of O. Henry/Just So Stories with uncomfortable racial undertones (or just... tones) to engage me at all.
(Truly bemused by all the reviews here which declare this to be a bad and/or non-feminist book because Edna Pontellier is selfish, unlikable, and not a role model. If you think a book needs to have a likable, emotionally mature superheroine at its core to be feminist, it may be that you've missed the point that Chopin was making about women being allowed to be individual people, and also your approach to literature is way more didactic than mine.)...more
An engrossing collection of short stories about Black women in the U.S., set roughly between the '80s and the present day, that grapples with questionAn engrossing collection of short stories about Black women in the U.S., set roughly between the '80s and the present day, that grapples with questions of loneliness and independence, intimacy and estrangement. Deesha Philyaw's sense of place is strong, and many of these stories—"Peach Cobbler", "Snow Fall", "Jael"—read like pressing down on a fading bruise. For a debut collection, this is impressive, but perhaps because Secret Lives is a debut is also why there are points where the voice feels a bit self-conscious. This is a minor quibble though, and I'll definitely look out for more work by her in the future. ...more
Seeing I takes place over a roughly three-year period during which Sam and the Eighth Doctor are separated from one another. Sam spends time as an envSeeing I takes place over a roughly three-year period during which Sam and the Eighth Doctor are separated from one another. Sam spends time as an environmental/social justice activist on a planet run by an evil corporation (tautology?) a couple of centuries from now, all while the Doctor is held in a prison that seems humane at first glance but is tailor-made to torture him. Sam matures a bit, while with the Doctor we get to see one of his breaking points, and they both come to a better understanding of their respective drives. The planet they're on, Ha'Olam ("The World"), was settled primarily by Jewish and Muslim colonists, and Sam's work primarily takes place within a Jewish restorative justice tradition, which is cool. I would have liked to see the world-building pushed a little bit further—where are the rabbis fiercely debating if the eye implants are permissible by halakha? what are the hajj obligations if you live on another planet? are there synagogues, muezzins, shared schools?—but I suppose a piece of tie-in fiction in the late '90s could only go so far....more
A collection of darkly whimsical short stories which I found something of a mixed bag. Consider my rating for this an average, because there were someA collection of darkly whimsical short stories which I found something of a mixed bag. Consider my rating for this an average, because there were some really strong pieces ("A Diviner’s Abecedarian", "Thread Boy", "Homebody"), and some which felt like prose gymnastics in search of a point. (The occasional meta musings about pointless stories were irritating to me.) When GennaRose Nethercott is at her best, there's a heft to even a short piece: the hook of a story premise is married with a follow-through delivered with a bite and a grin. However, even the pieces that didn't work so well for me may work for you, if you like stories that are largely there for fever-dream aesthetics and surreal, Welcome to Night Vale-esque vibes....more
A very charming, light-hearted collection of logic problems, loosely connected by brief bits of gently humourous narrative in the set-up/solutions. ((A very charming, light-hearted collection of logic problems, loosely connected by brief bits of gently humourous narrative in the set-up/solutions. ((view spoiler)[We even get to see Detective Logico find a boyfriend and fall in love, all while he's solving murders! (hide spoiler)]) The book's divided into four sections with the puzzles getting progressively more difficult from section to section, although even towards the end I wouldn't say that they're the most difficult logic problems I've ever worked through—none stumped me. They're calibrated to be the kind of thing you can do while lounging by the pool or while travelling. Recommended if you like this genre of puzzle, or if you've never done them but are curious....more
A short, sharp work that—for something written before the outbreak of the Second World War and by someone an ocean away from Germany—is highly insightA short, sharp work that—for something written before the outbreak of the Second World War and by someone an ocean away from Germany—is highly insightful and prescient. Kathrine Kressmann Taylor's novella is written in the form of letters between two business partners: one a German Jew living in America, the other a Gentile who has moved back to Germany just as the Nazis come to power and who becomes an ardent follower of Hitler. Their relationship swiftly deteriorates. Kressmann Taylor's writing isn't subtle, but her point is clear and irrefutable: in a fascist society, words kill. ...more
A friend (you know who you are) made me sit through the '90s Doctor Who movie earlier this week, and followed it up by giving me one of the tie-in novA friend (you know who you are) made me sit through the '90s Doctor Who movie earlier this week, and followed it up by giving me one of the tie-in novels. The novel, I'm glad to say, is a lot better than the movie, which is a stink bomb. Jonathan Blum and Kate Orman did a much more competent job at giving me a sense of who Eight is as a person, and have a knack for little moments that display good characterisation. The plot—vampires running amok in San Francisco—is enjoyably silly and campy, although some of the side plots/secondary characters dragged a bit, and some of the humourous beats felt a little dated.
You know that analogy that's sometimes used to explain gravity and space-time and such: dropping a ball onto a rubber sheet to see how it distorts thiYou know that analogy that's sometimes used to explain gravity and space-time and such: dropping a ball onto a rubber sheet to see how it distorts things? I thought of it while reading Siren Queen.
Nghi Vo's novel takes place in a fantastical version of 1930s Hollywood, where the studio system is as abusive and controlling as it actually was historically, but ghosts walk, actors aspire to literally become stars, and studio bosses double as inhuman leaders of the Wild Hunt. It's a world different enough from our own that you'd expect the presence of all that magic to be like the ball on a rubber sheet, changing things, making it different from "our" world in a way that's more than aesthetic, but I didn't find that here. I don't need to know all the ins and outs of how the magic system works in Siren Queen, but I needed to feel like it had heft to it—like it shaped the world around it.
That, coupled with an emotionally flat/detached POV character and no real narrative direction, meant that I struggled to get invested at all in the book. I liked some of the visuals, I respect Vo's commitment to queer narratives, but I felt like she was trying so hard to convey theme (Queer Monstrosity, capitalisation intentional) that she forgot about telling a story....more
Ooof. I'm torn about this one. The set-up of Business of Pleasure had potential—aspiring author has a very mediocre one-night stand, thanks her lucky Ooof. I'm torn about this one. The set-up of Business of Pleasure had potential—aspiring author has a very mediocre one-night stand, thanks her lucky stars she'll never have to see this guy again, finds out the very next day that he's a C-list celebrity whose memoir she's going to be ghost-writing. And for the first chunk of the book, I thought it was going to live up to that potential and be a 3.4/4-star read—but the further I got, the more I found myself disappointed and even skimming a bit to get to the end. I know it sounds like an odd complaint to have about a work of fiction but Chandler and Finn's relationship felt too scripted, too invested in representation and not enough in exploration.
It's also weird to read a book where the author is verging on the preachy about certain issues that can be Problematic (gasp), but then glides right over truly grappling with the issues created by the circumstances of Finn and Chandler's relationship. You can't have it both ways!
2.5 stars, rounded down to 2 because having the female lead be called Chandler meant I just kept picturing her being played by Matthew Perry in a blond pixie-cut wig. ...more
A light, dry, chilly short story about a teenager called Marguerite who is from a privileged background. The satirical jabs about the publishing indusA light, dry, chilly short story about a teenager called Marguerite who is from a privileged background. The satirical jabs about the publishing industry are fun; the voice is entertaining, but the main character fails to entirely convince. ...more
A novella composed of short, lyrical vignettes, Maud Martha follows the eponymous protagonist over some 20 years, from childhood through to marriage aA novella composed of short, lyrical vignettes, Maud Martha follows the eponymous protagonist over some 20 years, from childhood through to marriage and motherhood from the '20s through to the end of WW2. Maud is bright and sentimental and imaginative, stuck in an unsatisfying marriage and a run-down apartment in a racist city, but perpetually full of day dreams and hope for the future. Gwendolyn Brooks' prose makes the everyday beautiful and conjures up vividly what life must have been like in a mid-century, predominantly Black and working-class community in Chicago. Definitely recommended. ...more
Noor Naga’s If an Egyptian Cannot Speak English is a novella set in post-Arab-Spring Cairo, where an unnamed Egyptian-American woman and an unnamed EgNoor Naga’s If an Egyptian Cannot Speak English is a novella set in post-Arab-Spring Cairo, where an unnamed Egyptian-American woman and an unnamed Egyptian man have a brief but toxic relationship. I’m torn about this one. For every lovely turn of phrase or bit of character work here, there were some clunky bits (“watery breasts” made me grimace irl) and trite aphorisms. (view spoiler)[(And then there’s the third act of the book, in which everything that came before is “actually” a non-fiction memoir being commented on by the American fellow students in a creative writing class that Naga’s taking. This just piles on too many layers of smug tongue-in-cheekness for the book to be able to support: all of the novel’s issues are intentional (with class, culture, gender, sexuality, POV, etc) and if you point them out or critique them well you, the reader, just Didn’t Get It! These are strategies a writer can use to a certain extent, but irony has its limits as an authorial device. Whatever Naga thought she was doing with her depiction of a Black woman in the third part, it didn’t work. Though there again, I’m sure she’d say I just Didn’t Get It.) (hide spoiler)] Naga is clearly a talented writer, but not one who yet seems to have true confidence in what she wants to say.
Five years ago, Geeta's no-good husband disappeared, and most other people in their rural Indian village think she killed him. She didn't. But her repFive years ago, Geeta's no-good husband disappeared, and most other people in their rural Indian village think she killed him. She didn't. But her reputation gets around, and some other women with terrible husbands start seeking her help with offing them, and shenanigans ensue.
There are things to like about Parini Shroff's The Bandit Queens—mostly the moments of somewhat dark humour, and the complicated and prickly female friendships—but this was a debut novel that needed not just one but probably at least two more drafts before it was published. The tone is wildly uneven and the dialogue often stilted.
I get there are always compromises to be made when you're writing a book in English but the characters are really "speaking" in another language (in this case, Gujarati). Not every concept will translate, capturing particular cadences might be difficult, and so on. But here Shroff repeatedly indulges in one of my pet hates, where a word that does have an equivalent in English is left in the "original" language for... coyness? Humour? Colour? I don't know. But I do know that every time a character goes to "make su-su" in this book (and it's a lot), I was gritting my teeth and saying "just say 'pee'!" Shroff's linguistic register is also all over the map—characters sprinkle their dialogue with as many "likes" as an American millennial and much of the prose is fairly informal, but occasionally we're told that a character has a "falcate back" or that one of the women has made an "aperçu". At one point, one woman refers to another as "zaftig." Encountering Yiddish slang in a rural west Indian context does break suspension of disbelief a little.
And that ties into the other major issue that I had with The Bandit Queens, which is that there was a lot about the framing and subtlety of approach (or lack thereof) which made it clear that Shroff is an American of Indian heritage rather than being born and raised in India. I had the sense that for an Indian to read this would probably be what it's like for me most of the time when I read a book by an Irish-American set in Ireland.
I think Shroff has potential as a writer and I wouldn't swear off her future work, but this was a bit of a disappointment.
2.5 stars, rounded up to 3 because I liked the dog....more
Definitely a stronger book than King of Scars, with lots of adventuring and derring do, even if some of the narrative obstacles either get overcome a Definitely a stronger book than King of Scars, with lots of adventuring and derring do, even if some of the narrative obstacles either get overcome a bit too easily or (as in the case of the Darkling), Leigh Bardugo doesn't seem to know quite what to do with them once she's got them on the page. It was enjoyable, but I feel moreso on a scene-by-scene basis rather than if I step back and consider the book as a whole. Bardugo was trying to wrap up several books worth of plot here, and things are a bit overstuffed, but I did find the ending generally satisfying....more
A spare, melancholy book about the tension between feeling the impulse to precisely observe people and events and the elusive nature of memory; about A spare, melancholy book about the tension between feeling the impulse to precisely observe people and events and the elusive nature of memory; about how much you can feel for those whose lives briefly intersect with yours and whom you never see again, and the terrible push-pull between family members who find one another mutually incomprehensible. My Name is Lucy Barton is about bonds and isolation, explored as the eponymous narrator recounts both a lengthy stint she endured in hospital in New York in the '80s, and her impoverished and abusive childhood in '60s rural Illinois. Elizabeth Strout is very good at showing/not-showing the elisions, the sidlings up to and away from the painful things. As I read I found myself admiring Strout's restraint as a writer. However, although I liked the novel and the unresolved nature of the ending clearly signposts the further books that are to come in this series, I don't find myself pulled to continue reading about Lucy and her family—in a strange way, I think My Name is Lucy Barton told me everything I need to know about them....more
Emily Fox-Seton is a 30-something spinster in Edwardian London, well-bred and impossibly good-natured but penniless. She ekes out a living as a kind oEmily Fox-Seton is a 30-something spinster in Edwardian London, well-bred and impossibly good-natured but penniless. She ekes out a living as a kind of genteel fixer for upper-class women, who pay her a pittance or in cast-off clothes. Emily unexpectedly gets an invitation to a week-long country house party, and given the genre and the book title, I don't think it's a spoiler to say that by the end of it she's had her Cinderella glow-up. Frances Hodgson Burnett's writing is wildly sentimental and predictable, of course, but there are just enough veiled comments about the characters and how society treats women as disposable to stop this from being unbearably saccharine.
I did find it dryly amusing that one female character was desperate to get married because if she didn't, a dire fate awaited her: having to go live in Ireland. Gasp!
(I read an edition containing only the first book, The Making of a Marchioness, and not its sequel, The Methods of Lady Walderhurst. Judging by other reviews, that was probably a good choice; the sequel takes a turn into racist melodrama.)...more
I was hoping for fun, but King of Scars landed more on fine. I still enjoyed the world-building and many of the characters, but the pacing was both slI was hoping for fun, but King of Scars landed more on fine. I still enjoyed the world-building and many of the characters, but the pacing was both slow and uneven, with none of the propulsive fun of the Crows books. The Nina POV chapters were the strongest for me. I found myself really wishing that Bardugo had an editor who'd push back against her tendency to use limp Whedon-y one-liners to undercut emotion or drama. I'll read the second book in the duology, but I will go in with adjusted expectations....more
A very solid collection of short stories from the 19th/20th centuries that all have something to do with the sea. I particularly enjoyed Jack London'sA very solid collection of short stories from the 19th/20th centuries that all have something to do with the sea. I particularly enjoyed Jack London's "The House of Mapuhi" and Stephen Crane's "The Open Sea", which read like a watercolour painting; I didn't get on with Patricia Highsmith's "One for the Islands" or the last story, Mark Halprin's "Sail Shining in White" (smug; wildly unconvincing dialogue). Definitely one to dip into if you've got a thematic interest in the sea or seafaring....more
I'd read another book of Annabel Monaghan's—Nora Goes Off Script—and mostly enjoyed it, so gave Same Time Next Summer a try on the strength of it. UnfI'd read another book of Annabel Monaghan's—Nora Goes Off Script—and mostly enjoyed it, so gave Same Time Next Summer a try on the strength of it. Unfortunately, this novel has none of the previous one's strengths but amplified its weaknesses.
Rather than deploy the tropes of a romance novel with a little bit of sly self-awareness as before, Monaghan just leans right into the well-worn beats of a Hallmark Second-Chance-Romance movie: the main character, Sam, is stuck in an uptight job with a big-city fiancé who seems perfect on paper, but is still pining over Wyatt, the guy who broke her heart when she was a teenager. You know how things will play out from there. There's nothing fresh or new in how Monaghan unfolds her story, and I found both Sam and Wyatt insufferable. I should have given up on the book early on and returned it to the library, because pretty much as soon as the narrative referred sneeringly to the Big-City Fiancé as wearing moisturiser, I knew I wasn't going to vibe with this. (Heaven forfend a man use skincare products.)...more
Ten years after Hild, we get the long-awaited sequel Menewood. We rejoin Hild, now in her late teens, and finding her homelands on the verge of war anTen years after Hild, we get the long-awaited sequel Menewood. We rejoin Hild, now in her late teens, and finding her homelands on the verge of war and having to figure out how to navigate that in a way that keeps her family (by blood and by choice) safe. This is a story of grief and community and power.
As with the first book, Nicola Griffith clearly relishes the epic sweep of the tale she's telling and loves the particularities of the land she's talking about—having read this book, I feel I'd have a reasonable chance of being able to navigate around Northumbria if you plonked me down there today, just based on Griffith's loving descriptions of it. The prose is also clearly crafted to echo medieval epic poetry, with the repetition of epithets and by-names and the use of alliteration.
That epic strength of the book is also its major weakness: it really is just too long, especially since I didn't feel that the narrative's ruminations on the book's themes weren't quite deep enough, the characters (and there are a lot of them) fleshed-out enough, to make it feel like a page count that ran into the several hundreds were earned. (view spoiler)[It was also obvious from the get-go that in order for Hild to end up as the abbess Hilda of Whitby, neither husband nor baby were long for this world. I was fine with Cian dying because my stomach for reading about someone rhapsodying about the smell of the smell of her husband/half-brother when they fuck is, uh, low. But the circumstances of the birth/death of Hild's infant daughter were both really upsetting and just a bit too OTT for me to be able to roll with. If you're writing a book that puts such emphasis on realistic world-building that you go way into detail on how you butcher a horse and prep its hide to make parchment, you make it much more difficult for me to buy an extended scene in which a woman in active labour fights on horseback and on foot in a full-on battle. (hide spoiler)]
I will probably continue on with the series, should Griffith publish a sequel, but I hope that she'll either get an editor more willing to tell her 'no' or that she learns how to stop over-writing.
(3.5 stars, but not even the gorgeous cover is quite enough to get me to round up to 4.)...more
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