Powerful and succinct. I think this works very well as an audiobook, as it’s narrated well and such a personal experience.

Having just finished Nishga by Jordan Abel, this ties in well. It is unacceptable, and yet disturbingly necessary that everyone marginalized have to first perform their pain to be seen as human; otherwise subjected to incessant acts of dehumanization by people within the same room as them. But also in literature in general, and even more acutely in Canadian Literature, writ large.

This short examination of the damaging way men are socialized shouldn’t be anything new. It should be terrifying to every man, and I think everyone has had an experience as disturbing as the author, in which their default state is to assert their own agency over someone else’s. How did we learn this? Where did we see this? The answer, in my opinion, is literally everywhere, all the time. Men should be afraid of men. As should everyone else.

Internalized misogyny is a problem for everyone, but the people most in need of it being dismantled require the help of the people who society is built for. The only other threat I can think of is climate change. And I think it is just as—if not more than—dire a problem to confront; entangled in it. Solving this problem is as intersectional as it gets in humanity.

I’ve been putting this off because, as well regarded as it is, the premise as written isn’t really appealing. Revenge for being outed by catfishing the guy? Sounds not “fun” to read.

Luckily, as this is young adult and so comes with the diction and sentence construction you’d expect, I think the characters are really well realized. They’re contradictory in a way few queer characters are, because of the demand on them to be archetypical and fit into a heteronormative lens. I loved that the author wasn’t afraid to be critical of different aspects of the queer community, especially when it isn’t inclusive. That’s a massively difficult topic to tackle well. And while I was apprehensive at first, it does feel like it comes together into a dramatic plot that also seeks to interrogate some of those notions. It doesn’t have prescriptive answers to some of those questions either, which is even better, in my opinion.

These kids don’t have it all figured out, and why should they? It wouldn’t feel real if they did. They hurt each other, intentionally or otherwise, all the time. It’s messy, but it’s full of forgiveness too. Making this deceptively complex for such a fairly simple plot. There isn’t that many characters either, so the draw to this book should not be figuring out who outed Felix. The plot beats are all pretty predictable, and sometimes feel like merely a vehicle for the larger issues. But, I think it wears that on its sleeve, and so is expected and less grating than it is in other books that try to hide it, and subsequently feel even more after-school-special.

I will say that in the beginning, when Felix and his best friend are generally the only two characters having interactions, it can feel quite siloed. I’d urge you to keep reading though. It does feel like it navigates to a satisfying place and becomes more nuanced as it goes. Pleasantly surprised. Also, I am a cis white man, so I urge you to look for reviews from people of colour and trans people, because I simply am neither well informed or have the lived experience to detect if those aspects are well handled. I’ve certainly missed important things in other texts.

2.5 rounded up

If this was a tv show it would absolutely be the episode where they ‘jumped the shark’. The first half was pretty interesting and had stakes that were understandable and manageable. The second half, though, is extremely muddled. The plot beats are strangely spaced, the stakes remain the same, even as they’re executed. And the ending feels really unearned and contrived. There are enough plot beats and chemistry between certain characters that it was a fun ride, but it isn’t what I would call a well-crafted novel.

However, I think it’d pretty synonymous with male-lead/driven fantasy in the scene now too; just a different power fantasy. I actually think it’s pretty valuable and interesting to read this and have it in conversation with popular fantasy.

You wouldn’t think this would be boring, but it is. And the voice being commercial fiction only augments that, for me.

Loved the voice in this, overall—especially when it becomes clear Why it is the way it is. Fantastic concept and a wonderful way to consume a fairly historical text. Sure, it’s augmented with the fantasy element, in which our main character is ostensibly telepathic and those like him, born at Midnight at the moment when India becomes a country, also have powers.

Their journey parallels a burgeoning country taking its first steps, it’s adolescence, etc.; It’s intelligent and witty and well executed—as long as you like the voice, which is rapid fire and full of vivid details, only some of which ever go beyond painting a scene level of importance. It can feel meandering… but the meandering makes sense, once you have the full context. Still, people who abandon it early on due to that, I totally understand. I would say give it a go on audio though. I started with the book and then started alternating and the narration is so good that once you get it in your head, and it supplants your own voice while reading the text, I think it really helps you get through it. And probably made it a lot more entertaining.

It didn’t quite bring it home, for me. It does a lot of work building it up but the ending feels a lot more mundane and a bit of a let down, despite it feeling like an ending that completely makes sense for the book.

The historical aspects were very interesting, and seem well researched. The characters aren’t as convincing, and the writing is serviceable, but far from stand out, giving this book a serious case of middle book syndrome. I’ve also read another of See’s books and felt similarly, so I think this is just a case of not getting on with the author.

Plot wise, this book requires investment in the friendship component between Snow Flower and our narrator, as the plot is very slow and not as interesting as their interactions and overall arc. The machinations of their lives aren’t as vivid or interesting - but this, I think, is by design. Her internal, micro world is a source of her strength when facing wild misogyny and system sexism, patriarchy, etc. Having a small silver of agency clearly means the world to these two women. But if you are looking for the drama to be propulsive for the A plot and B plot, you’d be mistaken. Which is why this is quite a struggle sometimes. It would have made a very good short story, in my opinion.

This requires a lot of suspension of disbelief—too much for me, personally. The resolution is so contrived there’s no way to guess the particulars, and I’m not convinced it’s even possible in the time frame given. But if you can get over that, there’s some things about this that are enjoyable.

For one, it’s an interesting mystery. It’s the first appearance of this particular character, and they’re both a private investigator and amateur detective in a similar vein to Sherlock in methodology. If you like not being able to figure out every detail, you’ll also like this. I was able to guess a few things, but like I said, the actual conclusion feels so out there I’ve no idea who could guess it. And that did make it seem more contrived as the story progressed. It also has a bit of an interesting, but also odd point of view. It’s a Watson type character who is a mystery writer and travels around looking for good ones, apparently. And so the narrative shifts around, attempting to lend credence to particular sections via fictional eye-witness testimony of the villagers. And it begins not with the inciting incident, but a survey of the grounds at a much later date. Which was an odd choice. But different.

Had it actually been written well apart from the construction of the mystery, I’d have like this much better. I have no idea if some of it is translation issues or if additional information was added by the publisher or translator, but it goes out of its way to use terms and then explain them for a western audience sometimes. Which is odd because it makes a point of saying it was only recently translated, and sometimes these points are helpful and other times pure common sense.

Then, the actual prose are just not that well written. It’s Hemingway-esk, but done poorly. Weasel words, stale diction choices, very inactive sentences. Dialogue escalates into melodrama which is a trope, but feels more hammy due to the sentence construction choices. Also feels like it’s trying to make people sound really “natural” and the expense of actual good dialogue. And just some bad similes, which is kind of a staple of sophomoric writing, to me. There was a loud thump like a sliding door fell. First of all, I don’t want to find the sentence again but they didn’t have a comma in there, and then the use of “like” for things the characters and reader definitely already know the sounds of, really bugged me. Because it is a sliding door falling. It is the sound of Koto strings, you said so already so it isn’t _like_ that, it _is_ exactly that thing.

Anyway, if you can go with the flow and want an unexpected and fairly fun, but contrived mystery, check this out. You’ll probably like it more than me. I have the second book in the translated series; here’s hoping it improves.

Simpson’s writing is always good, and this is intensely vulnerable and quite moving, at points. But the subject matter mostly on difficulties forming relationships with people generally socialized differently than her, and her unpacking it, isn’t as interesting to me as her other works, so this was something that I didn’t connect with much, though I can appreciate aspects of it.

This was solid and enjoyable. I don’t think it made much of an impression, but it was a fun reading experience that was off kilter for the genre in a good way.

Essentially a presentation of Abel’s identity, and struggle therein, this book uses a few different formats and structures to fully encapsulate everything he is saying. And it is honestly incredibly affecting and an amazing thing to consume; especially as it progresses and things become more clear.

There are transcripts of a lecture he has done, as well as, at the end, a really helpful transcript of his dissertation defence. But throughout it there are also mixed media set pieces displayed as you would see them at a gallery viewing. Beside them are “notes”, again as you would read them for context at such an event. Only they are his lived experience, very epistolary in nature.

And so you initially can’t make that much sense of the object beyond a unique aesthetic. (Or at least, I couldn’t). There is a graphic, clearly indigenous superimposed over text. Sometimes things appear redacted. Always there is never the full context. There is text in the background, or sometimes it fills the superimposed image. Though other times they’re filled with photographs, conforming to the image dimensions, against redacting the full context of the image.

As you consume it, you are told what the text is and why everything is the way it is. What this means, ultimately, and what Abel is expressing, is unique, unconventional, and, perhaps ironically, provides so much context for what he is trying to get across to the reader, I feel like “trying to get across” would be an understatement. I think you might have to intentionally misconstrue it, if you didn’t understand the breadth of what is on these pages. If only because of how much additional support there is than, say, a memoir or biography, or something conventional.

The transcripts go so far as to have time codes. At the time, I wasn’t sure why. But as you read, you actually fall into the time gaps and can feel the pulse of it, noting the seconds elapsed and the formatting that moves one paragraph onto the second line to denote the seconds passing. It’s surprisingly immersive. What’s more is it feels right. Abel isn’t simply producing the same theses, he is tailoring it to the form and function of the medium of the book; while subtly communicating the amount of time, in this case, years, he has been speaking about this and trying to come to grips with his identity. At least one lecture is years old.

The subject is a springboard into some of the most complex and difficult issues to unpack in Canada. And the people who have to sort it are the people impacted by it. Indigenous people like Abel were displaced from family and their culture. The irreparable harm residential schools have had is such that even people fully grown, and now scholars, are still grappling with it. And so Abel’s Nishga is about much larger things than himself.

It is crushing and in inexcusable that the marginalized and traumatized have to produce their pain to make people listen and engage with the issues. But it seems to be the only way white people ever speak about these things. This country and our systems and institutions are proud to embody the exact definition of insanity. Abel speaks about the cost of producing this artifact on his personhood. The least I think people could do is read it. As others have said: it should be required reading material. Here in Alberta, when I was a kid, residential schools weren’t mentioned at all.