jessicaxmaria's Reviews (1.04k)

 A very fun book for a reader who loves to juggle many layers of a narrative at once (ME). 

As Abraham explore her love for her housemate through the prisms of eight types of love, there is much to reflect upon as a reader from preconceptions of what society thinks about love and how to adjust one’s own ideas. I think Abraham walks a certain line with the friend she is enamored with, but her pure curiosity about the subject of love powers the book through her words and images. I was captivated, and spent time while reading sharing passages with my own friends whom I love very much. 

This book had a very strong start. I was taken in by the lovely prose and the first chapter regarding an 18th century cigar factory worker in Cuba. However, each chapter devolves from there. I have some thoughts on the way this was probably scooped up, edited, and subsequently rolled out in 2021. For now, I'll say that this would have benefited from a massive edit on a structural and storytelling level. Garcia is a talented writer, very lyrical and poetic. However, the threads in this book are not cohesive. The words shoehorned and clunky come to mind when I think of the separate storylines that are tenuously tied. This could have worked as two novels, which would give the time and space to dive into the complex themes Garcia only brings to the surface here without expanding upon. 

I was hooked by its first line: "I learned of Samuel's death two days before Christmas while standing in the doorway of my mother's new home." And from there, I might have expected a plot-driven mystery unfolding. However, Mengestu does something different with his storytelling through the narrator, Mamush. There are many timelines, or memories, happening at once, and each thread seems at a bit of an angle from the truth, or just around the corner from it. How much should we believe? How much should the reader need to know to understand what Mamush is trying to say to us--to himself?

I think there's a key to this in one passage of the book, where Samuel advises Mamush: "You were born here. You think the important thing is to tell the truth, even if you don't know what that is. You should know this; it is important you listen. If you want to lie to someone, you don't answer them directly. Do you understand? You tell them something else. You give them a story that is sometimes true. Sometimes lies. ...If you tell me this many things, then I don't know what's true and what you have made up. I have to try and remember everything, but that will be impossible. You see. You understand what I'm telling you now?"

The ending is really something; I read it twice and teared up twice. I can envision myself reading this again at a later date; and even if I don't know exactly what is true and what is a lie, I feel for these characters and what they've been through and what awaits them.

I knew it was going to be good, I just didn't know it was going to be this good. A revelation. more to come.

A dichotomous kind of memoir when I reflect -- the first half very much this old school, kinda non-malicious pervy reflection on his youth and family, and the second half a dark and soulful reflection on his sister's murder and the trial of her murderer. I'm not sure it works, but there were some incredible insights into his famous family and life; and the second half works as almost an homage to the writing his father became notable for.