We read Trust by Hernan Diaz for my IRL book club last month. It got mixed reviews from the club. I liked it overall! I thought the structure and style choices were really interesting, and I love any sort of unreliable narrator situation.

I did find this book a little difficult to get into… I never really found momentum until the last section (which was my fave). I think I expected more glitz and glam from the description, and could have done with fewer details about Wall Street. But overall I think the creativity of the structure of this one made it worth the read for me, and I really loved how the last section brought the previous sections together. I’m not going to say too much more because this is one where you definitely want to avoid spoilers!

Have you read this one? If so, slide into my DMs because there are still some things I’m unclear about that I’d love to discuss! Also I had to feature my matching Stanley Quencher… it took me awhile to track one down but I must say, I am really quite hydrated after getting it.

I was in a mood for award winners recently, so I picked up Disgrace by J. M. Coetzee, which won the Booker Prize in 1999. Coetzee also went on to win the Nobel Prize. This is a difficult book for me to “review” (if that’s what I’m doing), because I didn’t really enjoy reading it, and while reading it I wasn’t able to make the connections that seem to be the point of the book. After I read this book, I read quite a few articles and reviews of it, and saw that I totally missed major parallels between plot points, and I didn’t have the contextual understanding of the political environment at the time it was set to be able to really fully appreciate it.

I often like books with unlikable, even morally reprehensible, characters, but David is one of the most misogynistic characters I’ve read. I’ve also liked lots of books with distanced writing styles, so I can’t quite nail down why this book didn’t work for me. While I read it, I didn’t feel emotional. I just felt impatient and irritated, like the book was just a vessel for what Coetzee was trying to say about South Africa, and not a story that I actually wanted to read.

I want to be a person who reads “smart” books and picks up on allegories about the place where they’re set, and notices the parallels that put ideas at feelings at odds, and understands the resulting turmoil. This book felt like it was over my head, though. When I realized where this story was going, I wanted to feel something beyond apathy. I wanted to feel hurt and angry and confused and instead I felt like it was a chore to keep reading. Maybe looking back at this book over 20 years after it was published clouds my view. I can no longer feel much of anything besides disgust for men like David.

After reading more about this book, I felt like I could appreciate it more and see why it won prizes and is so respected. Unfortunately it was just not effective for me as a reader. I’m not sure if I’ll read more Coetzee in the future, but if I do, I definitely plan to learn more about what I’m getting into ahead of time to make sure I’ve set the scene for myself, to better set myself up for success in understanding.

Like so many others on bookstagram, I recently listened to I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy. I was actually not super familiar with McCurdy, as I was a little old for iCarly and Sam & Cat. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her act.

McCurdy has really been through it. She tells her story in a really interesting way, basically sharing the perspective she had at the time, without reflecting too much about how she feels about things now. The abuse she faced is shocking, and it is upsetting knowing how normal she thought things were. Kids are so vulnerable and trust their parents and adults, so she didn’t realize the extent of the abuse and exploitation she faced until she was much older. From the outside looking in, you’d assume that a Nickelodeon star would be living a charmed life, but in reality McCurdy was the main supporter of her family, under the extreme control of her abusive and manipulative mother. It’s wild to me that there wasn’t anyone else looking out for her.

This is a really great memoir, even if you haven’t seen shows starring McCurdy. I’m glad that she has been able to start working through some of the trauma from her past, and I think it was really brave of her to share this story with us. Highly recommend.

TBH I haven’t seen many of Selma Blair’s movies, and didn’t know much about her before I picked up her memoir, Mean Baby. I did a combo of print and audio for this one - mostly listened to the audiobook to hear her story in her own voice, but I referred back to the print version for pictures.

Selma is really likable and I found myself rooting for her, especially when it came to dealing with alcoholism and MS. She has been through a lot. Still, there were moments where I found her self-awareness to be lacking. She constantly reiterates how not pretty she is… which, like, she’s so pretty? I get not seeing yourself that way but I found that I wanted her to share more reflection on why she feels that way, especially since she’s obviously pretty by society’s typical standards of white/thin. Some of her explanations for weird behavior, like biting people, also felt a little lacking.

The parts of her story that were the most impactful to me were once she realized she needed to sober up for her son and how she was finally diagnosed with MS. I definitely recommend listening to this one on audio, as there are moments where her voice breaks with emotion that made me really feel for her. After reading this, I feel like I just want her to be happy and healthy. I would love to see her start acting again. I’m not a Dancing with the Stars fan but I will be on her side!

This book is the perfect late summer read. Set in the Canary Islands, it follows the close friendship of two young girls coming of age in the early 2000s during a hot summer. 10-year-old Shit (an affectionate nickname) is enthralled by her best friend Isora. The girls live in a working class neighborhood high up near a volcano, far from the island’s nice beaches where they long to go.

The girls are mischievous and crass, and the tone of the writing is provocative in its reflection of the grittiness of their friendship. Shit cherishes Isora - she wants her, and she wants to be her. It troubles her that Isora seems to be growing up more quickly. This portrait of girlhood is messy, lustful, and precocious. The translation is its own art, too. I couldn’t put this one down.

Thanks to @doubledaybooks for Mount Chicago by Adam Levin. This book has a pretty absurd premise - a giant sinkhole opens under Chicago and swallows a large portion of the city, people included. Among the lost are author/comedian Solomon Gladman’s entire family (wife, parents, siblings). After the anomaly, one of Gladman’s biggest fans, Apter Schutz, goes to work for the city’s mayor. He hopes to get Gladman to perform at the benefit for the city.

This book is truly funny. It has long, winding stories that come together perfectly. It’s witty and smart. There are meta moments where the author talks about himself and his own identity, and his experience writing the book. I really loved how the characters came together in the end, and I appreciated the combination of levity and bleakness. I think my favorite character was Gladman’s parrot, Gogol. The observations from Gogol’s perspective were endearing.

The biggest downside of this one is the length. With some passages, I felt like enough was enough. Some of the asides felt unnecessary and after awhile, reading this book felt effortful and tiring. I think this book could have benefitted from a more heavy-handed edit.

The other thing that bothered me was the book’s take on “wokeness”. I think there were moments that went too far into mockery of trigger warnings, safe spaces, etc. It felt like his own ‘Joyce Carol Oates on Twitter concerned about opportunities for CIS white men’ moment. I felt like I understood what the author was trying to say early in this section, but he kept going too far until it was offensive, and not in a funny ha ha way. This is something else that I think more editing could have taken care of.

I think if you want to spend a good amount of time in the midst of facetious writing that somehow turns into a very touching story, you’d like this one. I did like it overall, and I’m glad I stuck it out to get to the end.

Big thanks to @aaknopf for sending me an early copy of The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell. O’Farrell has been one of my favorite authors since I read This Must Be the Place a few years ago, and I was a big fan of her previous most recent historical fiction novel, Hamnet, which was a bookstagram fave last year.

The Marriage Portrait is another work of historical fiction focusing on a woman, or I guess “girl” considering that she died at 16, that we don’t know much else about - Lucrezia de’ Medici. What we do know is that she married young and died less than a year later. The circumstances of her death were somewhat mysterious with rumors she had been poisoned. That’s the angle that O’Farrell takes with this book. It jumps back and forth from Lucrezia’s childhood to her short marriage.

I feel like the characterization of Lucrezia was inconsistent. She’s described as a bit wild, as someone who can’t be contained, and as such as a child is left in the care of kitchen workers instead of being with her other siblings in the nursery. Her mother was looking at a map when she was conceived, making Lucrezia a wanderer, supposedly. I found the descriptions of Lucrezia’s personality to be at odds with her behavior. Like her siblings, she grows up in isolation in the family chambers. She doesn’t run away, she doesn’t wander off or even daydream much… she mostly doesn’t understand why her parents don’t seem to like her that much, and doesn’t fit in with her siblings. I did not find her very compelling - she was mostly an observer, a fly on the wall, and that’s fine but she was so insular that there wasn’t much interesting about it. She went along with the expectations that others had for her and only had very private interests in animals and drawing.

Unfortunately this one just didn’t work for me in the way that Hamnet did. I also felt that the writing was stilted. There were so many pauses in the dialogue, so many “…”s that it was distracting to me. Ultimately, if you are big O’Farrell or historical fiction fan, you may still end up liking this one. I’m bummed that it wasn’t great for me.

Thanks to @fsgbooks for The Colony by Audrey Magee. This Booker contender takes place on a small island off the west coast of Ireland in the summer of 1979. It follows an English painter, Lloyd, who travels to the remote village, seeking his own Gauguin-like inspiration. He’s disappointed at the arrival of another visitor, JP, a French linguist who wants to preserve the island’s use of Gaelic. We also get to see things from the perspective of a young island widow, Mairéad, and her son, James. Interwoven throughout the narrative are short chapters about what is happening on the mainland - the violence of The Troubles.

This novel explores the subjects of tradition, language, art, and colonization with beautiful yet slightly distanced prose. The writing is sometimes short, sharp, and observant, and other times leans towards a stream-of-consciousness style.

There is no character growth here, but that felt realistic to me. Both of the visitors only want to take what they can from the island, for selfish means, though they believe they have the best interests of the islanders at heart. JP insists on calling James by his Gaelic name of Seamus, despite James being infuriated by it. Lloyd journeys to the island in a currach, thinking it will be a more authentic experience than if he would have taken the modern boat with a motor.

I really liked this one. It’s an interesting and entertaining character study that effectively immersed me in the setting, while also making me think about colonialism and the Troubles. I haven’t read many of this year’s Booker nominees yet, but I think this will be a top contender.

 I love hard-hitting, compelling narrative nonfiction, and Invisible Child by Andrea Elliott is just that. This Pulitzer winner follows 8 years of the life of a child living in poverty. Dasani and her 7 siblings live in New York City with their mother, Chanel, and Dasani’s stepfather, Supreme. At the start of the book, they all live together in one room in the now-defunct Auburn Family Residence, a homeless shelter in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. Dasani is 11 years old and starting 6th grade. 

 

Andrea Elliott is a journalist, and this book started as a longform story in the New York Times. After the story’s publication, Elliott continued to follow Dasani and her family for years. 

 

Through it all, the family remains tight-knit. Dasani fiercely loves her siblings, and especially her mother, despite her flaws. This book delves into the many systems that the family must deal with in order to get services for the children. They deal with a lot. They go through a lot. The book balances the family’s story with history, sociology, and psychology that explain why some things are they way they are. The flaws in the system are numerous and the challenges faced by the family are often insurmountable, leading to accumulating traumas. 

 

Overall this is just a really good book. I’m still rooting for Dasani and her family. This book definitely changed the way I view our country’s treatment of families living in poverty. There’s so much more we could be doing to actually help people, and so many policies that cause harm and should be changed. I hope a lot of people will read this book. I listened to the audiobook and the narration by Adenrele Ojo was fantastic. If you like narrative nonfiction and unputdownable journalism, don’t skip this one. 

Writers & Lovers by Lily King was a bookstagram fave that I missed when it first came out. I’m glad I went back to it - I really liked it! It combines a bunch of things I love: a restaurant setting, the time before cell phones, the northeast US, a writer close to my age as the main character, grief, art, & complicated relationships.

Casey, our main character, has recently returned to Cambridge, MA, living in basically a backyard shack, working on her novel in the morning and at a restaurant at night. She’s reeling from the recent loss of her mother, the unexpected end of an all-consuming relationship, and overwhelming student debt. Still, she searches for meaning. She’s not afraid to feel her grief. She cries freely, and she finds beauty in small moments, like in the geese she passes in the park. She doesn’t take her time for granted - she works on her novel when exhausted, and though she’s afraid of failure and disappointment, she doesn’t stop hoping. She is drawn to two polar opposite men - Silas, a brooding young writer with whom she has a strong physical connection, and Oscar, a widower, a charming father of two boys, also a writer and seemingly more adult.

I thought this novel was really tender and beautiful. I found Casey’s self-doubt to be completely relatable, and her journey through intense fresh grief was raw and powerful. I can see why so many have loved this book. If you are a fan of Sweetbitter or Sally Rooney, I highly recommend it for sad girl autumn.