While the vignette style makes this easily consumable, and there are a lot of granular details about the rise of Hitler and the regime, some of which I didn’t know, the organizational structure and lack of specificity for events specific to Mildred felt really odd. Some of this must be a problem from extrapolating what is so little known about the events, and so it’s deliberately vague, sticking to fact only. But it can be really jarring at times.

It also means the padding out of the narrative is only semi-pertinent to Mildred herself, when the book implies that it’s just about her. When it’s not. Large sections is just what was up with Germany at the time and then closes out with Mildred wrote home about something innocuous. It skated by because it has been ages since I’ve taken a history class and my memory of Germany at this time is very hazy, so I actually was interested, even if I didn’t sign up for that kind of information disseminated in this way.

What is substantive and new and informative about this book pertaining to just Mildred as a person probably could have been done in a long article or some other shorter form structure with better information design.

Though sometimes retreading ground, you can tell this is written by a poet. A cadence forms in the reiteration and the story itself takes on a kind of shape that, had it been a simple exposition dump like most contemporary memoirs, probably wouldn’t have had the same gravity. The space between, small though the overall book is, is highly effective at the through line. Something many, maybe most, memoirs tend to struggle with. I was surprised at how much love and hope there is for the future, even in the same breath as acknowledging some of the generational pain and harm done, and how it effected her father. Another point that might have been made in much more detail in other styles in the same format.

Had it not had as much retreading for sake of the musicality of some structural choices, I think this might have been a five star read.

A wonderful meditation on the nature of faith and the subtle ways in which shifts as a person gets older and has life events occur that alter things seemingly set in stone.

Through the lens of a pastor who knows he will be leaving the world, and the transgression of the reader consuming these letters to his child, there is a really strange relationship that is created. We know that it’s all fiction, but the idea that we aren’t supposed to be reading these personal letters and we have access to the insight of a person’s innermost thoughts—as well as simply the most important things they wish to divulge about themselves to their loved ones—not to mention someone of unshakable faith, really lends this an air of authenticity. It feels like narrative nonfiction most of the time.

Another thing to like is the situations discussed. You might think the things that are brought up might be really big questions and grandiose, necessarily, to convey the deepest parts of himself and be understood. But really it’s more about the mundanity of life and the beauty there, bookended with the absolute love he has and has had with his wife. The proposal story is so good and so moving, and quintessential to who he is as a person. All the stories have that same quality.

What’s more is it’s also not proselytizing to the audience. Faith as an everyday challenge met, and the questions in its contrivances and contradictions is the absolute point. It is not a simple faith at all that is unwavering. It is the person who challenges his beliefs constantly that ends up with a cornerstone. I thought that was a beautiful notion to pass along to the reader, and not at all heavy handed; deduced by consuming his thoughts, instead of a Midnight Library banging you over the head with its conclusions.

A fantastic read, all round.

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One evening a man walks into a restaurant and, in an act of facile dominance, takes his own life in front of Joan, putting her on a collision course with her past.

Trauma has a way of getting under your skin and puppeteering you. Sometimes you’re aware of it, sometimes you aren’t. As Joan tunnels to a new location even as she dredges up her past in the narrative, “Who is this for” is a nagging question that creates a wonderful narrative tension.

It also manages to craft a really compelling voice for Joan in, something like a co-opting of the detective genre. Towing a melodramatic tone with the deathly serious traumatic aspects and, really, the honing in on the darkest parts of self that Joan is able to read, the prose are incandescent to me. There’s a real penchant for description and a willingness to allow the reader to understand Joan to her core. Unconventional and macabre though she may be, I find her to be brilliantly rendered, as is the world. And the cadence and diction of it makes the innocuous interesting.

Which it has to, since the present day plot is essentially entirely conflated with the past. As we learn the origin of Joan as she is today, the journey inward is taking place in physical space. Time is moving linearly, but ultimately, Joan understands at an instinctual level that to deal with death, for her, means a regression of self. Every step forward is a step backward. It’s survival.

This makes the flow compelling but choppy. When Joan is stymied, the story of the past does too, hindering the pacing somewhat. It also, in a weird way, feels right for the character though. Especially when things come to a head and all is revealed.

As a sum of its parts, Animal has a lot of interesting things to say about women and the impact of childhood socialization intersecting with trauma. But also the way in which patriarchy makes it so difficult to form positive female bonds that center them, rather than the men in their lives. The generational impact of this is particularly effective in the novel, essentially putting every gender role present in the novel on an inevitable and escapable trajectory, but creating a subjective space of interpretation for the reader to wonder if, with the unhinged nature of Joan manifesting, she has broken free of her trajectory, or merely fully manifested it.

Published in ‘76, you really do need to sort of be aware of what graphic novels were like at the time, I think. The plot is completely secondary to shocking twists and turns no one could see coming. Nowadays we chalk that up to bad plotting and, generally, let’s be honest, the older comics are sort of known for bad writing. Bombastic. Not exactly high lit. But it’s fun and it’s almost always steeped in social commentary.

This is no different. We are told very little about anyone, including Adéle herself, it’s just a whole lot of wild stuff about psychics and prehistoric creatures and murders and double crossings. It’s just fun. But to top it off, though, the artwork is just staggeringly good. Far better than what most modern comics produce. Old Paris and the unusual colour choices, soaked in 70s aesthetic. Really love the style. And very happy I tracked down a copy because it’s completely sold out through here (in Canada). I hope they’ll go beyond the first two volumes, but doesn’t seem like they will. It’s been ages since that second one was published.

Most definitely five stars are some points. But it can be uneven at times. Never close to being in danger of putting it down there. Less granular than Rooney’s micro interaction perspicacity, but I can see why people relate this to her. Loved that this was far more queer and concerned with attempting to use language to express oneself, immediately revealing how difficult it is to do so—English is clumsy in many ways and, something that people tend to forget or handwave, communication and language and diction, and every facet of expression really is a learned skill.

Add to that a queer woman socialized as hetero, a bit of a mess, but in an endearing way, for me, and a fish-out-of-water culture shock combined with class dynamics and voila. This is my kind of humour. I recently read Several People Are Typing and maybe cracked a smile once. This had me laughing a few times. Especially those moments that showcase how the overconfidence of men is constantly on display in all its facets. Admiring at times, sure, but also straight trash.

And then the same narrator as the Rooney books voices the book too. Truck, yeah.

Extremely substantive in portions, but wildly uneven due to the structure. People are alive or dead, depending on where the train of thought is running. It feels more like a pile of short essays than something cohesive. This patchwork framework method seems to be gaining steam. For me, it’s more like a shotgun, see what sticks combined with short story methodology constructions. Set things up the strongest for the first and last.

Themes emerge somewhat organically, but again, it feels to me like it’s exercising less craft than more. I’m a child I’m an adult I’m retreading ground many times over, but because the reframe coalesces a different tangent to approach it. Had there not been sections that focus on cultural aspects and trauma that were more interesting than the distant, cold writing I would have had this as a 2.5 rounded up, rather than a 3.5 rounded up. Mind you, this is a casualty of the writer narrating the book herself, probably. I almost always think their delivery is robotic and only further removes colder writing. Great that they’re being paid to do the narration. But it is not a natural skill people usually have.

A bunch of these stories were in season 1 of the show, although somewhat altered. It took the wind out of the sails for me. I ironically bought this because it was cheap and the first book in the series, and I wanted to see more of the character beyond the show. The stories are staggered throughout, which I wasn’t crazy about. I do like devices like that usually but this feels really fan servicey and not an actual introduction to the character. Should have researched it a bit more than just noticed it was first listed, no doubt from chronology.

The prose are fine, the stuff that wasn’t in the show (or I didn’t remember from the show but is there?) was fun enough, but overall doesn’t really provide me with a good enough hook for continuing. I may or may not. Maybe via audiobook in the future or from the library or something. I pretty much got this because it was $5 for shipping from bookoutlet it $6.50 for this, so I took my shot.