A very short, very gripping story of a now-paralysed car crash survivor in the care of his mother in law, whose daughter had died in the same crash. I happen to find the

"caretaker turns out to be abusive"

trope particularly uncomfortable, and I also suffer from HORRIBLE second hand embarassment, so this novel felt like a personal little torture device. The audiobook was uncomfortable to sit through, and the claustrophobic atmosphere that's present throughout the story through its use of Oghi's senses - mainly him hearing things through the door, and the tactile sensations he does feel described in the vivid way of a character with no other outlet or focus - kept that sense of dread right up until the very end.

I've seen this trope done better, I've seen it done worse. I really liked the clues that hint at the wife's goals peppered throughout the book, as well as the broader cultural context. I also enjoyed the cinematic storytelling. I could picture some of the scenes as specific film shots - this would make great suspense film. Kind of reminded me of Bong Joon-ho's Parasite.

Alternating between Oghi's post-accident existence, primarily characterised by loneliness and neglect, and flashbacks to his marriage, the way the layers of the plot peel back slowly to reveal what was going on, really sat with me. It's not overly hand-hold-y, and I'm surprised at how uncomfortable it made me. Not even scared or upset, just so, so uneasy. 

I didn't like how floral the prose was in the translation, but I enjoyed the premise and worldbuilding of the café and how time travel works within it.  It's a cozy read where nothing happens in the grand scheme of things, but people's lives are changed nonetheless. 

Would have rated it higher if the writing style appealed to me more, but things are overdescribed, with many an adverb in every sentence, and the translator seems to have gone the "direct meaning over essence" route, resulting in clunky phrasing that took me out of the experience completely. 

I really enjoyed this one, personally. People say the ending is a letdown but I don't think so. 

It's weird, it's dark, it's cringe-worthy at times, but I couldn't put it down all the same. Miranda is a protagonist that can be difficult to love at times, but we understand her throughout. Her actions feel realistic for someone in her position, and she's the perfect unreliable narrator to take things from strange to downright trippy. 

I found myself absolutely sucked into the audiobook from the first minute, though I admit it gave me a fair bit of existential dread (listening to it in early 2023, masked, on public transport). 

The world building is wonderful - there's a very hopeful part of me that loves stories about human perseverance, human connection, and the idea of people being tied through coincidence; there was plenty of all three in this book. 

I liked NtN more than HtN, and less than GtN. It's an all around mess, but in the best way. 

Maybe all we really needed in this gritty, depressed lesbian franchise was a naive, sweet, and optimistic protagonist. 

I can't, in good faith, read a book by an author who has been publicly transphobic (who is still alive and thus benefitting financially from me reading the book). An author I admire and an old student of Adichie's, Akwaeke Emezi (they/them), has spoken out against her transphobic comments a while back, and now that I know this - I will never pick up an Adichie book again.

The second book ever to make me openly sob, the first one being one of the Percy Jackson novels (Nico's coming out scene specifically) six years ago. 

I'm not a crier. Something about this book just hooked me. I don't normally read this kind of book - a series of vignettes that tell a global story about a pandemic, as opposed to something driven by a single character. The unexpected connections all the characters have to each other was moving to me, and the commentary on capitalism and the human condition struck a chord. 

Not an easy read, but a worthwhile one.

As a Slav myself, I'm always a little hesitant to pick up literature about Russia written by those that haven't lived there, especially historical fiction. I like the nuance my culture holds, and while it's funny to see foreigners fumble with it, I'm getting sick of those stories. This book does feel authentic, and I enjoyed large portions of it, until it introduced Vika. 

I see this a lot with male authors; they will introduce a femme fatale/not like other girls character, and suddenly the protagonist is in love while he's watching her treat other women like garbage. Because she's "different" and he's "never felt like this before". Russian women, regardless of how "tomboyish" (or whatever weird phrase any given author chooses to use to describe a short-haired girl going about her day in ww2) they are, have friendships/relationships much different to American women (or the women imagined by an American author). Vika's treatment of

the women in the farmhouse

was completely uncharacteristic of the way most women, especially Slavic women, would act in that scenario. Vika's role in the story took me out of it immediately, and while the book is an otherwise captivating read, I struggled to connect with the characters after her introduction.

I loved the first book (A Psalm For The Wild Built) and when I managed to get my hands on this one, after it wasn't available at my library for ages, I knew I would love it too. And I did. 

I'm in a bit of a rough spot emotionally right now, graduating soon, immigrating to a new country, working on my thesis, searching for jobs. This duology helped. 

I enjoyed the first book more but this one was still very good - I loved the characters already so I liked this one, since it was mainly the characters working to reunite after the events of book 1. If you want more hippo cowboy shenanigans and less emotional reunions, character study, and learning moral lessons after having heart-to-hearts with fellow criminals, you probably aren't going to enjoy it as much. 

This duology's story concludes in a very satisfying way, for me, and

the protagonists survive!

A light-hearted read I'm coming back to after a few more heavy reads, so perhaps I'm less critical of it because I needed a pick-me-up.