I like the shape the vague entity that is ‘blue’ takes in this. It becomes almost mythologized but prescient, transient, and yet also present. Arguably maintaining the ‘qualities’ we use for nebulous abstractions while also becoming much more and so being imbued with a subjective character I think would be a fruitful way of thinking about other obsessions or drives in our lives.

I didn’t find the format and structure particularly conducive to that effort though. It actually makes the analytical part of my mind take in the numbered paragraphs as dissonant events rather than any kind of connective tissue. As it went on, despite its length, it become a bit of a grind, too. Almost positive that had the structure being altered this arrangement would have played very differently and to great effect.

A little overly simplistic, especially with sentence construction and dialogue, but I liked the story beats well enough. It’s not a new dynamic between the boys, but as far as executing that trope, it’s a heartfelt attempt that mostly lands. Doesn’t hurt that Lin Manuel narrates the story and makes a bunch of the more innocuous exchanges endearing.

Another solid entry, penultimate, I believe. In which Echo, in engaging with the historical text at school again dreams herself into history; only she has no agency there and is a mere spectator to the destruction of her people. Something I thought was a good way of illustrating the empathy exercise of reading, as coupled with an active imagination and probably hyper phantasic mind.

Plot wise, there’s a bit more of a development on the family front too. And, as usual, a timeline of historical events is at the end; always helpful and nice. I saw some people complain it wasn’t as fleshed out as the list of events… it’s 48 pages, not 140.

Excellent prose work. Plot wise, this feels like a spiritual successor of Octavia Butler, which is a fantastic thing. Prescient as heck, this explores the importance of history as it relates to marginalized people in ways I haven’t really consumed before.

The descriptive work in it also creates gripping interactions. Even better, the excellent specificity is narrated with a cast of in-credible voice actors. I think the first one might have been Levar Burton??? Wild.

The first part is not as congruent as the second half, which I consider excellent. It establishes the historical aspect, but also feels far more aimless and meandering, even when interesting. The later half is completely solid and would have landed it 5 stars, had it been reworked to include the historical elements in some other way.

When their mother dies, aged 51(?) year old twins, Julius and Jeanie must face an absolutly punishing reckoning. They are marginalized from society, a part of a community that others them. They themselves are unwilling, probably unable, really, to participate in it, should they wish to regardless because their mother has exercise a unilateral, crueler than they know hold over their lives. They are impoverished, Jeanie cannot read and write, and therefor is precluded from most jobs. Julius is the only earner and it’s all cash-money doing unreliable odd jobs, which he has proved unreliable at performing.

Their mother dying, then, presents problems: how to pay for her burial. How to bury her at all? Their mother seems to have borrowed money now owing, yet their utilities are off. Their very notions of how they are living—and therefor life itself, one could argue—are challenged constantly. And it’s rendered so well I was constant anxious myself. Especially now, after COVID, with so many jobs and home lives in turmoil, it hits close to home. Perhaps too close, for some.

This all creates stakes fairly masterfully. They are, for some, very low bars. But they’re a never ending horizon for these twins unable to negotiate society, relying too heavily upon their mum and a never ending continuity. And on top of that: Secrets. Of which there are many and ranged and unearthed just as mother is going in the ground. Sometimes before she has.

This is moving, affective, and sly. The characters are distinct in voice, as is the authorial voice itself. There isn’t that much fiction about people this age; certainly not about people of this age who have accrued little-to-no-agency in life, in this manner. I think it works well as a piece to ruminate on trauma and the kind of tyranny only parents can wield. The casual cruelty people can inflict on one another when othering is possible is much more than a defect. And there is a spiral that people in poverty know all too well. Some events begin a cascade. This one, in particular, though wrapped in verisimilitude, packs quite the punch. From start to finish it can be a bit of a descent. But it is worth it, in my opinion.

Pretty astounding, to be honest. Does a great job showing the boys grow up, each seeking to both fight back against Nazi Germany, as well as to seek escapism from the horrors they learn of, as the nemesis literally becomes more terrible and disturbing than, I’m sure, absolutely anyone thought they could possibly be.

It actually comes out pretty well balanced on the escapism front too. Certainly the boys aren’t well adjusted and sometimes they over compensate into their diversions rather than face realities head on, very much to their determinant. With a large caveat as validating it too, though. It’s a necessary need, especially under capitalism and fascism, to ration and manage anxiety and trauma and harm. And this here is a perfectly valid tool.

Then there is the real life, I guess fantastical aspect? injected into the text too, which becomes a surrealist symbol that tow a liminal space; used to exceptional, masterful effect, in my opinion.

The prose are great, but somehow didn’t have great flow for me, either. I can’t really figure it. It’s readable and not all that small a font. Either way, despite that quality I still came out loving this. The characters felt nuanced to me and messy, in a complex human way, not a sophomoric way. The ending was an actual surprise for me. At first it actually bugged me, but I think it does go to the theme a lot more than what the ending I thought was coming would have delivered.

There are some great lines of dialogue and even better exchanges codified into stage work, essentially. It, of course, parallels some real life aspects of the industry; especially creators getting preyed upon. Kirby, hello. And still relevant. The union for Image comics only recently requested voluntary recognition. Ironic, since the Image founders left Marvel and DC precisely for better treatment.

This was quite great. I was actually quite (pleasantly) surprised how time is treated. It jumps and skips playfully forward at times, and does so exactly when needed. Our protagonist could have dwelled in her laborious solitude when relegated to the abbey for ages upon ages, and you could imagine a writer using the structure to make the reader really feel that time. When it jumps forward at a certain point I was put off balance at first, then felt extremely grateful for the framing of the story being as it is.

It feels crisp and pertinent. Not a single page or line is wasted. The prose are great. The character work, similarly fantastic. Even the pious have character flaws, and it turns out there was a lot more politicking in an Abbey than I ever imagined. But because I wasn’t aware of that at all, it felt new again and easily accommodated. Absolutely every aspect of this was interesting.

While it does miss the X factor to bump it to a 5 star read for me, it did, obviously, exceed my expectations. I think there is a distance, which is necessary for the framing to work, but does make it more difficult to appreciate at a character level. Or perhaps I was too busy marvelling and the craft work in the structure.

It gets the job done, and really I like the idea that the structure is something he wanted to codify for his children. I expected this to be a lot more about activism and the oil sands, but those are very minor parts of the memoir. It mostly feels, because of the non-linear structure, that when it gets to something I was personally interested in it would be fleeting because the structure reframes things fairly often.

I think it’s quite effective at conveying people as products of their environment and his struggle to change his life to where he is now. It makes the parts I was least into pertinent, which sometimes, because there isn’t a through line until further in, felt meandering and incongruent.

There’s some speaking on indigenous beliefs and culture and systemic issues continually being a counterforce to indigenous peoples’ trying to move forward from massive trauma inflicted for hundreds of years.

More than anything it is more like a traditional biography memoir in that it traces his life from childhood to where he is now. For people picking it up for a more granular look at activism and environmentalism, like me, there isn’t so much here. Though he is fairly upfront about his mentality, what worked and didn’t work, and his feelings on those issues—they are invariably tied up this unique structure, so you never know when a chapter will go into those topics.

The narration is fine, not great. And there’s some very heavy content, some of which you’d expect, other things, such as the sexual assault of a child, you may not see coming. Lots on physical and emotional (domestic) abuse, addiction, generational trauma.

A young girl born and living with thieves and ne'er do wells is put forward to turn her own scheme for the family. She is to pretend to be a rich woman’s personal maid, while convincing the lady to fall for and run away with a gentlemen who has planned the scheme all along to have her for her money.

To say there is more to it than just that is a grievous understatement, though. The voice in this is absolutely exquisite. It’s lyrical and shifting, reminiscent of gothic tales, Unafraid of including colloquialisms from Victorian times that roll off the tongue and feel intuitive in the language ecosystem of the novel.

Even better is the plotting. Like any good trick, there’s multiple layers occurring in any given seen, but you’re privy to only a small context until you get to each new part, alternating the point-of-view. It’s twisty and probably modelled after a magic trick. The Prestige comes to mind, but I’m not sure it is as precise as that.

My only complaint with it is that the narrative tension os deflated in the final part, in a way that makes the end almost interminable at times. It could have easily been truncated, preserving every relevant plot beat. I think it tries to shift the tension elsewhere, realizing it’s all but resolved, but it didn’t work for me. The voice makes it worth finishing regardless and the ending, when it does come, feels relatively satisfying. It feels like it wants to wrap up every small, innocuous thing, when a much more focused ending would have driven the “point” home much better.

3.5 rounded up. At points, a 5.

A fairly nuanced accounting of the years of a young boy from Vietnam and his mother who are separated after immigrating to the U.S. We first get the perspective of the boy, then it begins to vacillate between the two, answering some questions, while posing more.

I found this to be more nuanced than I expected. The change is point of view was welcome too, as I didn’t find the boy’s perspective nearly as interesting, just because of his personality. And it also adds so much more texture and complexity when we get the mothers perspective. I felt it was quite rewarding.

Well paced, well written. Important story, especially when it came out, as it goes into the myth of the American dream. ICE, racism, misogyny, nepotism, extortion. The two encounter so many different barriers to every endeavour, but I wouldn’t say it is a bleak tale, either. There’s plenty of comfort and love - even when it’s echoes of memory. Still feels quite relevant and I found it touching via the moments I like the most: the innocuous and those memories roaming the peripheral.