abbie_'s Reviews (1.79k)

I buddy read this one with Nadia and we both agreed that it would have been a far better experience had the excellent translator's note been placed at the beginning of the collection! As it was, we both felt underwhelmed at a lot of the stories, or left feeling 'What was the point of that?' 

But when you understand more of the context of these stories, and how radical Moustadraf was (so radical that she was denied treatment for her illness which meant she died far too young), they take on a new light. This collection contains the first instance of cybersex in Arabic lit, as well as the first (I think) intersex/genderqueer character in Moroccan lit. 

The main message of the collection could be summed up as 'men are trash'. The women in these stories lack agency, are stuck in loveless and often abusive marriages or suffer at the hands of abusive or neglectful fathers, entitled men whinge and moan about their situation in life then take it out on the women around them. A few of the stories focus on self-perpetuating cycles of violence and poverty which trap so many women and nonbinary folks in less-than-ideal situations. 

Moustadraf does such a good job of writing unlikeable characters - possibly too much of a good job? In that, I felt tired and drained after reading almost every story, because there's so few repercussions. But sadly that is how it is in real life too, more often than not. 

Overall, a collection I appreciated lot more upon reflection than while reading!

I don't know why I continue to be such a sucker for messy girl books, but long may it continue! This book had me pulling my hair out, the main character just could not make a good decision if her life depended on it. I read this in 24 hours in preparation for seeing Sheena Patel at a book festival in my city and my word - 24 hours in the narrator's head is an experience and a half!

Working an unspecified vague job, the narrator spends most of her time fawning over 'the man she wants to be with' and stalking 'the woman I'm obsessed with' - both on social media and in real life. It's a claustrophobic experience being in the head of someone with so many toxic, unhealthy behaviours, yet she would also occasionally drop little nuggets of profound wisdom to do with race and class. I thought it was great (stylistically, not for the poor character) in that it showed how people can be so tuned in when it comes to certain things, but so short-sighted when it comes to other aspects of their lives. The narrator is fully aware of the damage social media does, as well as how fake it is, yet she can't stop herself hate-scrolling this woman's Instagram and aspiring to be like the white women who document every inch of their lives there. 

The ending literally had me gobsmacked, it was unhinged and I was there for it. My main quibble is that sometimes the writing seemed to lose its snappiness - some sections were a drag. 

My thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for my free digital ARC!

Amiko is a young neurodivergent girl living in Japan with her mother, father and brother. She doesn't see the world like most other people do, and this book offers a peek into what it's like living life in a way most others don't understand. Amiko is perfectly happy eating her curry rice with her hands and saying it exactly how it is, but unfortunately her elders and her peers at school don't appreciate it. The author displays both the casual and pointed cruelty at play by neurotypicals towards neurodivergent folks. My heart broke for Amiko on several occasions, though mostly when her intentions were pure and made sense to her, but her actions didn't have the desired effect on their recipient. 

The ending in particular was heartbreaking when you realise what happened, and although this book was published in 2011 in Japan, I'm not sure how far attitudes have come the world over since then. Hopefully they only continue to improve for neurodivergent folks!

Fell off the reviewing wagon in the last month or so but I would like a record of my thoughts for all my 2023 books, however brief, so I'm doing my best!

This is one of those books that make my Scribd subscription worth it - unique, weird, poignant, and nigh-on impossible to get hold of here without breaking the bank. It's a whole rollercoaster journey, following the MC from their childhood where they never quite feel at ease in their own skin, solving supernatural crimes with friends (I was obsessed with these little vignettes of the cases, and hoped more would be included in the book, but alas it wasn't to be). Then it moves on to a queer coming of age, focusing on those intense, sometimes toxic relationships between teen girls. And then the MC begins to suffer more with their disordered eating and is institutionalised, wherein begins the weirdest and best part of the book. 

I've truly never read anything like this, a unique exploration of gender, coming-into-being, eating disorders, friendship, queerness, weirdness. Would highly recommend if you like your weird ass little books.

Sweet and short, I sped through this one and appreciated its heartfelt message - even if it did feel a little bit contrived. Very consciously wholesome, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. 

The main character is paying back his debts after a stint in prison by making dorayaki in a slowly-failing shop. He’s content with mediocrity, buying in the sweet bean paste that fills his pancakes, passing the days in a haze until he can drink the evening away. But when Tokue, an elderly lady with a physical disability, responds to an old help wanted sign, Sentaro’s life is about to change. Reluctantly at first, Sentaro soon begins to learn from Tokue how to make a truly delicious sweet bean paste, and simultaneously appreciate the life he has. 

Although it tackles subjects like alcoholism, disease and the stigmas that come with it, loneliness and ostracism, there’s a dreamy, whimsical quality to Sweet Bean Paste that keeps it light-ish. Sometimes the dialogue in translation felt a bit off, but the letters between Sentaro and Tokue were beautifully rendered. 

Sweet but perhaps a bit forgettable. 

Coincidentally the second book I’ve read this year by a gay man with cerebral palsy, but I didn’t gel with this memoir as much as I did Just By Looking at Him. A few of my issues were the same - Mitchell is cis and white, middle class and sometimes a little unaware / blasé about his privilege. Some of his quips, mostly in the past, missed the mark in terms of internalised ableism re his sister’s neurodivergence (wanting to find out what’s ‘wrong’ with her) as well as a rape ‘quip’ that was just… no. 

Mitchell has a large than life family who have had more than their fair share of medical misfortune. I liked the way they all had each other’s backs, through his mother’s seemingly endless chemo to his father’s surprise diagnosis with ALS. His dad especially seemed like a wonderful person and I’m glad Mitchell had such a great support system in him. 

I feel like a couple of the chapters were unnecessarily stretched out (like his shady boyfriend Kevin - that should have been an online essay at most), while we completely skim over Mitchell meeting his now husband. 

But I did appreciate the perspective of a physically disabled gay man, and overall it was an entertaining read. 

Possibly my own attention span was to blame here, but I couldn’t fully get into this collection. The stories were on the longer side which I don’t think I’m in the mood for right now. They’re also unrelentingly bleak. Poverty, unwanted pregnancy, rejected queerness, loveless marriages, cycles of violence and trauma never cease within this collection, and it definitely took its toll - which is indeed the point and therefore it’s a successful collection in terms of shedding light on these issues in China. I’ll definitely be picking up more from Yiyun Li in the future. 

Brutal, spare, unflinching and unapologetic about Kanazi’s right to be angry about the brutalities suffered by his people in Palestine. I can and cannot believe that people come up to him after his shows and tell him he should lighten it up, be less aggressive when his family members are being killed. Why are white people so intent on tone policing the grief of people of colour, it’s disgusting. I can only imagine how powerful these short, sharp poems would be spoken aloud by the author. 

Published in 2015, another brilliant collection for anyone who seems to think that Palestine’s history of tragedy began on 7th October 2023. Anyone wilfully ignoring history at this point is doing untold damage. 

My thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for my free digital ARC! 

I’ve not read many books so overtly about the two years of lockdown due to Covid, and I wouldn’t have expected being thrown back into that dismal town to be quite so uplifting. But I did find that with Sigrid Nunez’s quirky and charming novel (/ memoir?) The Vulnerables. 

During lockdown, the elderly female narrator, an author, finds herself alone in New York, everyone around her fleeing to their convenient second homes in the countryside. She agrees to pet sit a friend of a friend’s parrot, Eureka, but finds herself in uncomfortably close quarters with the young man originally tasked with babysitting Eureka. Reluctant to engage with him at first, the two soon settle into a fragile friendship centred mainly around getting high and having philosophical discussions.

While I really liked the narrator, I couldn’t warm to ‘Vetch’, as she calls him. I think the point of the book is that everyone has their own troubles and we should be sympathetic, and I absolutely did sympathise with Vetch’s mental health issues. But he would often go on a tirade about how he was lost in this world that was so ‘against’ white hetero cis men - trying to make himself the victim, without acknowledging the privilege he has to not work, subsidised by daddy even though his parents aren’t speaking to him. 

But my issues with Vetch didn’t impact my overall enjoyment of the book, especially the intertextual musings woven throughout. The author/narrator is constantly reflecting on quotes by authors she admires, chewing on them, wondering what they, mainly white European, would make of her, elderly, female, mixed-race. She also obviously thinks a lot about the pandemic and the way it affects the most vulnerable in our societies.

I’m not sure how much of Nunez is in the narrator, but I got the feeling a fair amount - I loved the wry humour and the overall tone of the book.

Chilling. Right now in 2023 we are watching in real time as history repeats itself. This book should be required for every single person, especially those intent on demonising Palestinians for fighting for their right to live free from the Zionist occupation that has been ongoing since 1948.