Worthy concept with good prose. Unfortunately, I found the structure of the book deflated the immediate hook of the story for no discernible reason. It tips it’s hand too soon and solidifies the manner of death.

The narrative jumps around between characters to reveal everyone has a secret; everyone copes with the inability to be who they are. This is when it is at its best. Strange, then, that there is so little dedicated to the main character’s identity. Rather than getting a full picture of them, we learn that no one really knows Vivek and we spend no time beyond a certain threshold. It feels reserved to facilitate a twist that is oddly mostly beneficial to another character... rather than an actual victim. Left me colder and unsatisfied than expected.

While this doesn’t have a through-line and so meanders and retreads ground, this is a really exceptional memoir. Each section is a letter to a specific person, making each chapter almost a short story that allows the reader to come into something that feels very candid and intimate.

As usual, the writing craft is exceptional and there are numerous passages that, had I had a physical copy, I would have tabbed. There are some profound thoughts rendered vibrantly.

If you are a fan of Freshwater, this is an absolute must-read. The two are in conversation with each other, and explains so much. Emezi’s personal journey and perspective on mental health and how she interacts with people, and how they interact with her elucidate a lot in Freshwater.

This is also powerful, in general, because Emezi is blunt and bold about many aspects of herself. It particularly made me think about how facile the western belief that certain qualities make you “strong”. There is no contradiction when Emezi describes herself as navigating the world as bruise attempting to lightly brush up against others, while also having an innate belief in herself and her endeavours.

A fantastic legal thriller about a 17 year old boy who is raped at his prestigious all-boy boarding school on the night of a fundraiser. The school sort-of looks the other way at this time of the year and allow the boys to drink and party and decompress. When Kamran drinks too much, he goes home to his dorm in a stupor, forgetting to lock the door and collapses into bed. In-and-out of consciousness, he has a confusing experience where another person is in his bed and he is raped.

Zara is a councillor that specializes in sexual assault, but from an institution that handles women exclusively usually. But because she is Muslim and has handled a high profile case before, Kamran convinces her to be his advocate.

The book also includes the perspective of Finn, the boy who rapes Kamran. Only, from his perspective the events were quite different. He did not obtain explicit consent; he perceived Kamran as consenting by making sounds that seemed pleasurable and not saying ‘no’ and he also was very drunk.

It becomes even more nuanced when we see the interplay between Kamran and his mother, little brother, and most especially, his father—who, in an effort to toughen Kamran up against a world who will no doubt be hard on him due to his religion and his being a brown man, has really passed out and encouraged some very troubling homophobia and traits that are toxic and, at the very least, hyper masculine.

Kamran ends up charging Finn with rape after being unable to do otherwise and forget the incident. The police, wanting to be tough on this kind of unreported crime, especially when they’ve been criticized for not doing so recently, take it court, forcing both boys to silo themselves off in a really harmful manner because of how the Justice process works. Kamran is subjected to some deplorable and invasive questioning by Finn’s lawyer. His every action is under scrutiny to undermine his credibility. It’s honestly heartbreaking.

But it’s also incredibly humane to all parties involved. The characters are very well realized and the subject matter is handled with a lot of thought and care. Many perspectives are introduced and it does a fantastic job of talking about the intersectionality of male rape and toxic masculinity. From characters Zara has to interact with, even her family and friends of whom express internalized misogyny and lack of empathy for Kamran and his situation. This book refuses to allow the reader to get off the hook by showing so many facets of the ways in which our culture is harming boys and men such that they don’t have the tools to deal with most/many problems in a healthy way.

Craft wise, it vacillates between straight up, readable but forgettable prose and structure, and a really exceptional brevity that truncates really complex ideas into short interactions and punchy dialogue. It sometimes is really masterful in its imagery and ability to set a scene as well, which makes it kind of a weird read. The rest of it seems almost tramped down to fit the commercial fiction tin. But I also think making it accessible as commercial fiction is exactly right for this book. The more books that talk about male rape and toxic masculinity, the better. Especially one so comprehensive, empathetic, and intersectional as this one is.

This ticks a bunch of my boxes: non-linear, multi-POV, central theme. Focusing on the famous Haitian earthquake, the narrative occupies multiple characters at various points before and after the event. Some of them attempt to define what “home” means to them, in the context of being Haitian. Others identity is altered from the event, though they’re on the peripheral. A local who comes to help rebuild creates a meta context for relief efforts and fonds.

All in all, it’s a much more comprehensive result than a single POV, and it ranges in privilege, ethnicity, gender, etc. If you’re going to examine an event like this, this is a great way to do it. It’s compartmentalized. Not sensationalized. Respectful. Seems well researched. It’s a much better structure than, say, having a structure that is only the event unfolding and jumping from character to character to have a sort of disaster movie-esk creation.

It also means that they’re all pretty much short stories, and so vary, as these are want to do. Some I found really interesting and others felt a bit lack lustre. The theme still hits, but it’s in contrast to the stories that really stand out. This is forever my issue with short stories. The nice thing about this one though, is I think it somewhat knows this and so has the through line of the event and overarching themes.

I did listen to it on audio and I found the narrator to be far better than is typical. Some people complained that it’s the same narrator for everyone, so it could be confusing when it changes characters. They’re siloed to each chapter but I suppose it depends how much bandwidth you give your audiobooks. If you pay attention there is no problem. If you’re doing other things, though, I could see how that could happen. Heads up!

The prose felt very natural to the narrator and also above average. Great sense of time and place. Evocative. Active. Good at choosing what is interesting and unique about the locale to communicate to the reader and dispensing with the rest. Worth your time. Even for people who don’t like the short-story-as-novel structure. There’s enough grounding everything together, and no story felt too overlong, even if I wasn’t as into it as another, that it feels like it would appeal to a wide range of readers, imo.

This is, like many 70s sci-fi social spec novels, a novel of big ideas. In the backseat is the plot and characterization. Though, what gives it staying power is some prophetic ideas about the Information Age and the wired world that came. Rightly, it envisions a future in which the massive influx of data is used to steer the young and privileged. Propaganda 2.0.

I can’t say it was a completely pleasant book to read though, as I’m a character and plot driven reader. Go figure. This reminds me somewhat of Foundation. Almost B movie dialogue with complicated and fantastic worldbuilding and ideas. Fascinating to consume something meant for a completely different kind of reader.

Edit: I listened to this on audio because I didn’t remember it very well and wanted to talk about it for the Giller Prize. The audio is a superior experience for me,mostly because on the page, sentence-to-sentence, it’s very boring, structurally. A child writes in uncomplicated, short sentences. It gets into an annoying cadence that is not as (most of the time) noticeable when narrated.

Using the lens of a child we uncover the family dynamics of a 9 year old girl, her mother, and her quirky old grandmother. Though it’s not new territory per se, I found the voice to make sense for the age while still managing to be pretty clever and surprisingly funny, in the way sometimes kids are; meaning they aren’t necessarily trying to be funny but their knowledge gap or disparity in age makes it so.

This lived up to my expectations, which is something, considering I am not wild about narratives framed like this unless they’re really short. It was engaging and thoughtful, believable, and heavy with an undercurrent of melancholy that feels true to the reckoning of age (many) old people seem to express. But it’s contrasted by the vivacious first person narrative, so feels balanced well enough. If you’re particularly interested in the framing, I feel many readers will click with this more than I did.

A realistic depiction of a refugee crisis tucked into an extremely loose Peter Pan telling. Amir, or David as he calls himself when he arrives, washes up onto the shore close to a resort town. When Vänna finds him, she helps him as best she can, though she’s young, and despite a significant language barrier. Throughout, Amir is tested in his ability to trust his fate to a stranger, and Vänna has to decide how far she will go to help him. Helping him may require more of her than she has it in her to give.

The narrative shifts every chapter to before he washes ashore and after, culminating when the central tension of the story is resolved. The before chapters tend to be quite short and do a good job of stoking the pacing when needed and to plant foreshadowing and doubt as to Amirs ultimate fate. “If you think the black market is bad, wait until you see the white market.” The fairytale of going to a western culture is dispelled when people share stories of disillusionment and hardship, rather than find a land of opportunity and plenty.

People have sold this as the retelling of PP, but I think that evokes some plot beats that this mostly doesn’t have and isn’t interested in reenacting. The large movements of the story, as I know it anyway, are there. A boy arriving in Neverland as western culture is particularly great as a subversion. Hook as a disaffected embodiment of an institution as an officer tracking and corralling the refugees away from the resort people, lest their dollars be spent elsewhere. Vänna too, parallels a Peter Pan character well, though the characterization is wildly different, and to better effect, I think.

The prose are literary in structure; meatier paragraphs than commercial fiction and more articulate in its realistic depictions of dead bodies and the refugee story components. There are some elegant turns of phrase and a few extremely quotable lines, the prose otherwise though, get out of the way. I prefer description and specificity and a more active prose work, and ended up chewing through this book in three hours.

For me, there wasn’t anything to sink into and get lost in. The plot was predictable. Characters felt fairly concrete, but not vivid. This is a vehicle more of interesting ideas and subversions spotted from the window, rather than a compelling place to be in on that journey. It’ll get you there and it’s worth seeing where you’re going, but you will also remember the uncomfortable, bumpy ride, too.

Governments are gone, corporations have unilateral control and so are just expressions of their internalized dogma. Martian colony Frontera has axiomatic guests, Reece and Kane, both heroes in their own eyes, ostensibly railing against the corps to do “the right thing” with a secret on the new frontier.

On the face of it, This is a pretty typical first wave cyberpunk affair, aside from it being set in space. Which, some people would say kicks this from the subgenre, wildly. But this squarely fits. After all, Kane, veteran of the corporate wars has neuro implants that put him on a heroism simulation. This is the loss of agency via technology, and does a great job of making society an omnipresence within an individual. The heroes journey is literally embodied and critiqued throughout the narrative. The cyber and punks elements are actually more cleverly explored than plenty of other first wave novels.

The quintessential, ingrained conflict resolutions and Eurocentric point of view plays out in the desolation of the frontier. Expecting crisp white walls and beautiful architecture and shopping malls, instead there is only detritus as mankind repeats its self destructive instincts on a new landscape. These same movements are shown with our two male characters.

In fact, I was ready to bail on it when it felt like it was devolving into the same old, old sci-fi. Guys noticing, for instance, the impossible positioning of a woman’s breasts because of gravity. Continually trying to flaunt and vaunt, and mindlessly conquer every field they find, including women.

It turns out, however, that is exactly where Shiner wants you, and later subverts these expectations in surprisingly deft ways. It’s a commentary on the historical cycle, toxic masculinity, and how important the other narrative is. And spoilers: The heroes, it turns out, can’t see the forest for the trees.

A surprisingly refreshing first wave cyberpunk offering, I must say.

The thoughts expressed by our protagonist here are absolutely sumptuous. I’m sure the show-don’t-tell crowd absolutely hate this novel, but I found absolutely riveting from the start. Interiority done right. And, most difficult to find of all, possibly, the articulation of a complex individual distilled into solely the most interesting processes. Meaning verisimilitude similarly handled well—not absolutely every human function for the sake of filling a page.

True, I often want a much more active plot, which this decidedly does not have. A Sri Lankan man heads North to see attend the funeral of his grandmothers caretaker. He also receives email from a former relationship with. What follows feels exactly in keeping with the tone and contours of the effects a death has on some individuals. He is ruminative and pensive, voicing thoughts he generally tramps down. Even the innocuousness of some of the journey felt slightly profound. Contemplating the personalities and lives of people driving, sometimes angrily, performatively stoking an inner spark before falling asleep, acquiescing to a banal existence. Red ants marching into the night.

Honestly, if I’d read a physical copy of this I believe it would be tabbed and underlined. This is a case of—in stark contrast to Son of the House, which I just read—the author being interested in the same things that I am. My mind works similarly, I have the same/similar thoughts, and as a result the feeling of being connected to a person that never one grows, constantly shaped with every paragraph.

There is, I feel, an understanding expressed for how memory works, what the effects of death can have on the interiority of a person, and the beauty in the specificity of a seemingly simple interaction, which is actually the stuff of life.

Two Nigerian older women, one a seamstress catering to the needs of the second woman, a rich lady whose son is getting married, are kidnapped and held for ransom. Taken together, each tells the other their life story leading up to their present circumstances.

This does exactly what it says it does on the tin. It’s competent and has a fairly good hook. But I just didn’t click with the voice. It was completely fine, but also uninteresting—focused on aspects of their lives that I found least desirable to spend time on.

It also felt quite predictable, as was the plot/beats as soon as you they establish each characters opening chapters, alternates their stories. The voice for each character also isn’t very distinct and it’s not rooted in a sense of place, which made it very hard to picture anything happening in the fiction. The only thing really described physically was food. There wasn’t much physicality to the interactions and especially when alternating between present day and 1978, it was a bit baffling to not depict what the Nigerian city even looked like. How did people dress? How did that change over time. Smells, sights, sounds—wasn’t interested in any of that, and how much does the average reader know about Enugu, Nigeria? I certainly didn’t know a thing.

The hook just wasn’t enough to keep me interested once it became apparent where it was all going early on. While their lives are interesting in so far as they are women overcoming adversity, it’s also exactly the challenges you expect, every time, with only one exception, which would be a spoiler. I liked the themes but those feel sort of perfunctory given the setup.

The narrative also retreads ground annoyingly, as it converges on the present time. The idea of the women telling one another their stories made me expect a bit of a different voice as well, but instead it turns into a first person narrative where it would be telling anybody the story, so it’s not diegetic whatever. That was the entire hook of the story for me! Then, in later chapters, we get to a point where one character is telling a part of the story we just read to them. So the stories we learn about feel incongruent with what is actually happening on the page. It undermines the entire structure of the book and the way in which the flashback chapters are presented. I don’t get the stylistic choices at all, I’m afraid.

I did finish it, as it is readable and well written in the chosen style. I think it’s just a case of the author not being into the same things that I am. Plenty of people love it; sad to say I am not one of them.