Deeply unconvincing and comically didactic. This doesn’t read like literary fiction; in fact it reads like tropey commercial fiction that, somewhat disturbingly, meanders into self-help via ideologues. Not interested. And at 20% in, you’d think the boys would have actually begun their plan to LEAVE, discussed, what, 15% before. But no. It’s the didactic parade of every character that feels interminable.

Dnf 20%.

I absolutely disappeared for book 1 of this. About an, albeit fairly annoying mid-life crisis sort of guy, who takes a class and meets the titular character, and subsequently pens his thoughts and feelings about her for the entirety of their relationship.

The second part was why I stopped reading. It’s interminable. It is literally a paper on a peculiarity Finch brought up in class, and so digresses into the most boring story I have ever encountered. Even if I were interested in the history being discussed, the voice crafted for the essay is so uninteresting—especially when contrasted to the first part.

What an absolute shame. But I literally fell asleep. It’s over.

Dnf 51%

A non-linear, multi-generational story of the North women, as told, I think primarily through the youngest daughter. It is concerned with describing, with great empathy, clarity, dignity—how and what systemic barriers have prevented the North women from flourishing, but also coming into themselves despite those obstacles. Sometimes the obstacles are their spouses—other black men—who are treated with the same dignity and respect and, at times, staggering compassion, despite wildly traumatic and harmful behaviours. Showcasing the systemic brutality that they have gone through to become who they are in a multifaceted way that places responsibility, and Justice, with the right people.

It is intricately plotted, wildly satisfying. Chains together more impactful moments than most books can conjure. Sometimes, yes, it strays into emotional manipulation, but I think it does so much work literally all of the time, that it pulls it off. It is the opposite of moral ambiguity and yet not preachy, self satisfied, nor prescriptive, or even judgemental. There is a wicked amount of control being deployed, and it is where the book shines the most.

Objectively, it did take me a bit to sink into it. There is a heavy moment deployed early on that makes it feel like it will be derivative, and the prose work does feel like a debut sometimes. It would be fair to call it uneven. However, those aspects shrank with every page, until they became nit-picky. Especially when contrasted to the final construction. This pulls off in 1/3 the length, and I think much better overall, what The Love Songs of W.E.B Du Bois attempts. There is not a wasted sentence and the clarity and distinction of voice here in Memphis absolutely rivals Love Songs. Which also deserves the accolades it is getting, don’t get me wrong. Both books are prize material. I just think this needs to be given far more props than it has.

“Confession: I have read Pride and Prejudice two hundred times. I get lost in the language, words like: Thither. Mischance. Felicity. I am always in agony over whether Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are really going to get together. Read it! I know you’ll love it.”

Similar to Dreams of a Woman, this is a story that centers a Canadian trans woman and the major obstacles in the story come from the complications of simply existing as a trans woman. There is a loose, overarching plot in which her grandparent has passed away and a family friend calls the home, she answers, turns out her grandparent might have been trans. Between meeting that friend though, most of the book happens.

This can be quite brutal in some ways. The character obviously uses alcohol to obfuscate deeper issues. She’s post-op, still can’t pass all of the time, and is harassed fairly often. Her job is in jeopardy. The mental health of one or more of her trans friends are in crisis almost from the get-go. It does also have plenty of moments of being around people that truly love and support her and want the best for her. So the tone Vacillates, to put it mildly. But it did feel like fiction that wasn’t solely about making you care about a marginalized person’s pain, and I liked that the conflicts came from her life naturally, so it organically puts the reader in situations where they hopefully will understand the additional barriers to feeling safe and financial security, and the prejudices involved.

Overall, I thought it was really strong and always believable and compelling. I do like Dream of a Woman, her short story collection, a bit more because that collection is more eclectic and has a heartfelt through line that is the strongest story I’ve read by this author so far.

From a craft point of view, I understand this wasn’t meant for anyones eyes but his own, but as far as constructing a functional rhetoric it’s pretty ineffective, not to mention repetitive and circuitous; which seems a weird design of something to guide a decision making progress? Aside from structural issues the prose work is fine (and I like that a tenant is speaking plainly).

It’s primary interest is from a sociological standpoint, at least for me. Because, in so far as actually using this original self-help text, it’s the exact same advice you’d find in any one of those, only it’s more obtuse because it’s removed from contemporary times, to say the least. Also: some of the fundamental assertions of the initial standpoint with which to start applying the “rules” (Jordan Peterson barf), is from an immense position of privilege. The ownership of slaves is normalized and expected. Nature and the gods are not remotely squared, and, you know, it places some men above others in a puritanical way while hand waving morality and other such concerns by either the natural order or divine providence/organization. It also is sort of the original formula for reframing arguments away from marginalized people to suit yourself, rather than the disenfranchised.

Perhaps it’s fun to spot the logical fallacy for some. Other, “good” advice is relatable and absorbed into popular culture already. The actual interest is just in that it’s a glimpse into the time period of a famous person, combining the celebrity memoir with self-help aspects. It’s not anything more than that though. I wasn’t enamoured with the writing even, though that might be down to translation, who knows. I can see why dude bros love it. Live and love and do good and be good like an emperor. Remember to be swell to your slave and honour your magic system!

While the central mystery is relatively well plotted, with always a bit of uncertainty at play. The character work is also not bad. What really didn’t work for me was how explicit and how bland the prose work is. It doesn’t respect the intelligence of the reader, reiterating what happened what just happened, granular explanations for things that don’t matter and thought processes. I know it’s commercial fiction but this was so annoying, especially coupled with some of the annoying dynamics between characters and how wind-up toy they feel when the plot begins to asset itself. The dialogue was also really not good.

I’m guessing the audiobook narrator only accentuated these issues, as she was fairly monotone and made the plotting more monotonous and every character sounded the same.

Chronicling the journey of a German Old Lutheran community starting from 1836, to a new community, free of oppression from the Prussian state. Told through 14 year old Hanne, who has something different about her. Never fitting in with the other girls, always drawn to the sounds of the world she can hear, others cannot, and so think her odd and stuck in imaginings.

This is a really quiet book, mostly propelled on the excellent prose work, creating a very immersive and rich text. Hanne can, and does, necessarily carry the book. The community was interesting to me and there is just the right amount of detail about it and Hanne’s home life before transitioning to the next plot beat. It has a knack for this. Never dwelling too long but making each section feel dwelled in the right amount. There is no sensationalized drama but there are organic and meaningful stakes. Sometimes to a surprising degree.

Great soft worldbuilding allow for the the components of the story that readers probably aren’t familiar with to be dropped and reiterated at the right times; great information design. I continually found myself tense because I wasn’t sure where the story was going to, and each obstacle, especially later, doesn’t feel tropey in the least, which made it compelling because I wasn’t sure how something would be resolved—or perceive what the next obstacle will even be. But it’s also the kind of story rooted in myth and generation, so there is enough concrete details to keep the reader moored as well. It’s an interesting liminal space that’s created.

There is some doubt seeded in each section as well because the narration comes from Hanne at a future date. So you believe certain things to be true of the narrative that may not be, which is a very fun device when encountered. Also, there is a mystery implanted from the onset with the title of certain sections. Together, they make a propulsive experience. The strength of the prose work can’t be understated too. It’s gorgeous, fitting Hanne’s voice, her beliefs, and her mannerisms, but not mired by her young age and is packed with sensory details that make the fiction pop out of the page.

Because it is also not concerned with expectations it will probably annoy some people. I prefer it because of it. It’s a bit off, for good reason. Sentimental as it should be, because it’s also a romance, as much as it is a bit of other things too, like coming-of-age, colonization, and dogmatic views, especially considering religion. It subverts all of those expectations throughout. Then, it also provides and withholds catharsis. In a particular character, kind of antagonist never gets their just desserts but a resolution comes about nonetheless; again, making sense for the perspective of the character.

Really great stuff. A book I’ll pick up again in the future just to be with that voice again.

I thought this was quite fun. Fairly bold to open with a court trial that sums up what is going on with the judge talking to the jury. Though the instalove aspect was pretty cringe, the meat of the story elides that for the components of the mystery, which was pretty fun, as was the setting. I admit a weakness for seance scenes. The final third, or so, of the book wraps up satisfying and quickly. The actual final page follows the beginning, and is probably a product of it’s time.

Great concept, uneven execution. It’s also, I think, a bit prescriptive even for children; leading them to the conclusions in every single aspect of the book. From theme to granular experience of the character that didn’t need narration, to show don’t tell issues, primarily because it doesn’t respect the intelligence of the individual. This will vary depending on the child, I suppose. But I think it would be very frustrating for some readers. It’s also incredibly monotonous in style, since it relies on first person. I do this, I do that. I think this. I don’t like that. It’s slightly assuaged by the fairly good narrator (3/5, slight above average narration), but once you notice it is like an ear worm.

Saying a childrens book is predictable is probably a bridge too far. But if you’re an adult reader who was recommended this it is one hundred percent not remotely even young adult, so don’t expect to be engaged by anything but the plot and the themes. And expect it to be spoon fed. Is it above average for a childrens novel? It’s too long for comfort, but it’s also above bar, far and away, for themes and conveying fairly complex ideas. I can see why it won the prize. But as far as also being for adults… it was pretty rough going, for me, personally. But I put importance on prose work for engagement beyond most people. It is what it is.