When I finished this book it felt almost like a weight was lifted--not in a bad way--like, it was so pervasive it almost put me in a trance. It POSSESSED me, if you will.

Just last night I was stepping off the subway, about 3/4ths of the way through the story "The Resident" and felt like I was swaying, looked around me like everything was a little bit sharp and blurry at the same time. Machado's ability to slither into one's brain cannot be overlooked.

The stories are weird and beautiful and hilarious and horrifying. She's to writing what David Lynch is to filmmaking; surreal and trying to get to your visceral core while splattering out her own innards. I was nervously laughing at times but then gulping in anticipation. I shuddered occasionally.

For me, there was only one story that was just okay, while the others left me wondering and questioning and shaken. But, I like writing like this. I had a lot of great discussions with other people about Machado's story "Especially Heinous" which is a story of ten seasons worth of SVU episode recaps, except, um, it veers very Lovecraft, very Lynch. And perhaps that's why while reading I kept thinking of watching Twin Peaks last summer, and what a great idea it is to bring this to television, though I don't know quite how they'll do it with some of these. I'll be watching, that's for sure.

I cannot recommend this to everyone; if you don't like weird and quagmirish writing: stay away. If you need stories with pat endings: stay away. If you are into strange tales that you can't quite grasp but love trying to dissect: welcome. These stories inhabited me, and now I must attempt to shake off these Machado vibes (and like that, she's an adjective like The Greats) and dive into something completely different. It was a great October read.

It took me a couple of months to read this novel, as I own the hardcover edition and I was in the midst of caring for a newborn. It's not easy to juggle the two! I came to relish my evenings and occasional nap times reading Yanagihara's tome, and often my husband would find me on the verge of tears or blowing my nose on the couch with the book open on my lap. It's not even the saddest revelations that made me cry; much of the time it was the descriptions of happy events that did me in. I cared for these characters so much that when fortunate things would come about for them, I sometimes wept.

I think of the book's central character, Jude, often, even a few weeks after completing the book. Jude and Harold and Willem and Andy. And JB and Malcolm. A novel full of men I endeared: definitely rare for me. I was a little confused at first as to where this novel would lead, but it definitely took focus as it localized on Jude. The mystery around him had me turning the pages, and sometimes I wish I hadn't learned the extent of his trauma... much like his friends felt when it was revealed to them as well. There are a lot of depressing topics within, and this novel is definitely not for everyone, but I felt like Yanagihara treated her characters compassionately and their flaws could be anger-inducing but she conjured such empathy for their pain that I came to understand things from their perspectives. I was happy when success and good things came to them, and I was gutted when terror hit. To be so enraptured by a novel and its characters doesn't happen often, and I miss these men already, but I was glad the author chose to show the trajectory of their lives to the long extent that she did.

It's a completely devastating novel. And I loved it.

A lyrical and quiet journey about memory and girlhood. About going back to the places and people that shaped you in your adolescence and seeing them in the light of adulthood. Powerful prose that revealed little by little, and made my heart ache and then fully break at times.

This is my first Woodson, and I'm eager to be lost in her rhythmic words again. It was a quick, intimate window into a certain time and place (1970s Brooklyn), but the truths considered are undeniable beyond the novel's timeframe. I was especially enthralled with Woodson's portrayal of female friendships, as I have a special affinity for books about the subject.

This is the first book I've read by TJR and it was just what I needed at the moment. After reading several heavy or heady audiobooks recently, I wanted something a little more fluffier and light. I'm not sure it's the lightest read, but it was fluffy enough with its detailed outfit descriptions and entirely too 'good' and non-realistic people (more below).

Basic gist is that Emma marries her high school sweetheart Jesse and then he is lost over the Pacific Ocean in a helicopter accident and presumed dead; years later she receives a phone call from him while engaged to someone else. It's an engaging premise that kept me reading because what a triangle! There was a particular point that Reid focuses on about the people we were and are and will be that I really enjoyed and made me a little introspective about my life and relationships. I wanted to explore more of that, but this is not that book (which is what I wanted from the onset, I can't put that on the book 😂).

However, I'm not sure if I'm just cynical AF recently (or have been forever?), but the love triangle was a little bland? Like, the premise was dramatic, but the men were just so wonderfully loving and romantic and attractive and no one ever fights or disagrees and hey these dudes are kind of perfect with real superficial flaws? Like, in the end it didn't matter who she chose, which is FINE. You could view it as much more important for her to understand herself, and not about her choice in men...

A note also that I want to start including the names of audiobook narrators in reviews because they do so much work in bringing the book to life. Julia Whelan was a wonderful narrator, and I'll probably read another TJR audiobook because it was just really nice and straight-forward storytelling with a narrator I trust.

I remember my twenties, and I cringe when I recall certain moments. Whole months make me flush when they flash back. But those were just moments within a larger scheme of the rest of my life. Beck Dorey-Stein set out to relive some of those cringe-worthy moments from her own twenties with this memoir--though her larger scheme was the White House. She was a stenographer for the Obama administration for five years, effectively recording everything Obama said on the record, as well as recording in writing every messy indulgence of her personal life.

It's highly readable and entertaining, though I probably had a worried look on my face most of the time while reading as she mentions things like betraying a friend, cheating on her boyfriend, propping hotel doors open for a senior staffer after flying all day on Air Force One. It's chronologically told from the moment she answers a Craigslist ad to the 2017 inauguration, but it meanders not-always-so-seamlessly between The Job and her personal relationships. Perhaps that's demonstrative, because she intermixed the two a lot, and it's not pretty.

Dorey-Stein reveals a lot about herself, and quite a bit about working in the White House under Obama--she obscures just enough. (I want to find out who 'The Rattler' and 'Jason' from the book truly are, anybody want to wager?). It's a fast read, though uneven, and she's a good writer. However, by the end I'd had enough of "his eyes sparkled" and "with a twinkle in his eyes." I think it's admirable to write so openly, though I don't think I'd have the courage to do it myself in the same position.

It's hard not to read anything without coming to it with your own point of view. That's why most of my reviews come from a personal angle. Nobody is a blank slate. That said, I think my own perspective really colored my reading of this novel.

HTBS is a scathing takedown of gun culture and the current political climate and toxic masculinity. The book opens with a chapter from the POV of a teenager preparing to enter his high school with guns. It set my hair on end, and brought back memories of teen me sitting watching the news after school with my friends, watching students stream out of a school in Littleton, CO. And the flood of all the shootings since then, as well. It's not pleasant, and I don't think it's meant to be.

The story shifts to teacher Anna Crawford, and we are with her the rest of the time. She had been suspended and then named as a suspect in the shooting under sever media scrutiny until the teenage shooter is confirmed. My personal bias entered here: this book as a feminist screed (or, as the synopsis details, "a piercing feminist howl"), made me shift uncomfortably as the author photo of a white man stared back at me. Men writing from women's points of view always gets me a bit agitated. I am, skeptical... especially in the last two years. Especially in ways that the author elucidates within this book! So, it was a weird feeling throughout, though he manages well and addresses everything 'right,' so to say. I laughed at times, I enjoyed the misanthropic Anna Crawford, and her distrust of society was a lot like my distrust of this book. It was meta, kind of, and it's hard for me to explain it.

I think it's a good book, a solid and topical piece of writing that takes all the news and opinions we hear everyday and packages it into an absurdist and yet not absurdist story. It's not the book, it's me.

4.5 stars

I'm a person that rarely reads the backs or jackets of books when I'm browsing. I go right to the first sentence to get a sense of what is within the pages. Silver Sparrow begins: "My father, James Witherspoon, is a bigamist." And it was very hard to put this book down after that.

A heaving, lyrical book that takes us into the minds of two girls who happen to be half-sisters--but only one of them knows it. Born within months of each other to different mothers, one 'legitimate' and the other a secret, their adolescence becomes a burdened playground of their parents' interactions and pasts.

The novel is emotionally exhausting, as a friend commented in our group discussion about the book. There was so much to consider here, and Jones writes her characters with such depth that it's hard to extricate yourself from the engulfing sadness of their lives. And by the end, I think I wanted more from the leap forward in time, to feel something like closure and goodness for these now-women. But the reader doesn't find that, and is instead greeted with an ending much more realistic and plausible.

Bravo to Jones, a wonderful and deep-thinking writer who writes such propulsive novels--I cannot wait for more of her works. I'm sure I'll remember Dana and Chaurisse (much like Celestial and Roy) for a long time.

For a novel about sleeping a year away, I couldn't put it down. Thoroughly bizarre, funny, sad, and certainly won't be liked by many - but I loved it.

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A superbly written dark and merciless tale about a woman who wants to sleep for an entire year, and attempts to do so by drugging herself. She is not likable, she has one friend, a shitbag ex-boyfriend, an obsession with Whoopi Goldberg, and an enabling psychiatrist who is hilarious and a borderline caricature. (I ♥️ u Dr. Tuttle)

Having read her debut novel EILEEN a couple of years ago, I knew the depths of Moshfegh's visceral descriptions and sneering characters. I was a little wary about diving back into another Moshfegh; she is able to cultivate a feeling of dread even years later. Her writing's hard to shake (not necessarily a bad thing). MY YEAR is different in a lot of ways, though, in better ways, and it's also so bitterly funny, I thoroughly enjoyed this. It's a very easy read that I could not put down. It's one of the best books I've read this year, and it has climbed into my all-time favorites list... can't shake it.

Though I was disgusted at times, cackled out loud at others...the last page, though, made me well up in emotion. I took a photo of it before I returned my copy to the library. It cements the feeling that I need to now own this book in print. Onto my wishlist it goes for my personal library.

Not everyone will like this novel, or any of Moshfegh's writing. I ran into a woman at a party last week who had never read Moshfegh's work but having read the recent New Yorker article about her has decided she'd rather not. I've yet to read the profile. Would recommend MY YEAR if you like the darkly maniacal writings of Bret Easton Ellis or Alissa Nutting, maybe even Chuck Palahniuk--however, Moshfegh's doing it better than all of them, in my opinion.

Loved this thoroughly modern book that felt classic and fresh simultaneously. The two main characters navigate their emergence into adulthood in messy, realistic ways and the storytelling is seamless though there are time jumps. Rooney's sparse and lovely prose gives life to their relationship over time, letting us watch them grow with their scars, shared histories, and emotional inner workings. It's set in Ireland and spans a cavalcade of topics affecting the world and people today from minor to grand—it's almost hard to explain, so I'll stop trying to. I'd recommend this because it's great (a new favorite!), but also because it is one of those books that's hard to put down once you're in its snare. I finished it off in a couple of days.

I've talked with my book club in past meetings about how it seems that there are authors who don't quite know how to handle contemporary culture in writing. Many writers I think revert to times before the internet or cell phones, and I keep saying I want someone who knows how to write about what life can be like TODAY. Well, enter Sally Rooney. Finally, someone who can write about young people today without condescension, and without technology being intrusive. Rooney is captivating, and I was struck by how deftly she crafted this tale.

I know I'm in a bit of a minority here in both books and film: I love a good ruminating, pensive, self-reflective kind of read. I love character studies and details of people's interactions based in reality. I like films full of conversations and ideas. Perhaps that's why I love Sally Rooney's novels. In fact, the last line of this book reminded me so much of the last line of my favorite film of all time, could I do nothing but love it?

This novel is told from the point of view of Frances, an Irish college student and poet. She has a best friend/ex-girlfriend named Bobbi with whom she performs her poetry and they befriend a journalist and her actor husband. Frances observes the people in her life; at times she's trying to fit herself in a box, understand what kind of personality she has. Many of her thoughts are meanderings I recognized from my youth, and they made me laugh. It also made me think of Didion--"Was anyone ever so young?"--so you see more evidence of what led me to love this novel.

I'm glad I didn't read many reviews or thoughts before diving in; I've seen so many people call it boring, full of trite characters, a nothing-much-happens kind of story. But this book is not for everyone. There was a recognition there for me, for a time in my life in which I grappled, and I'm glad I never published those thoughts into the world (though my old LiveJournal would beg to differ). I'm happy Sally Rooney is here, capturing that beautiful and sometimes banal inner monologue of youth in her pretty prose.