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This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“How many exceptions do there have to be before you start to realize that maybe the truths you’ve been told aren’t actually true?”
This book was the January choice for my long distance book club. I’ve read a couple books by Jodi Picoult (she is ridiculously prolific), and have enjoyed them, but it’s been years since the last one. I vaguely remember that they all have certain things in common, like alternating POV narration and, of course, a lot of drama related to a singular event/issue. Other than that, I actually didn’t know anything about this book going in. Somehow I had managed to never actually read a summary of the book before starting it. I’m not sure how that happened. Regardless, true to form, this book tackles a difficult topic in a clearly well-researched way and I can’t wait for our discussion of the book because there is a lot to talk about.
Small Great Things, named in reference to a quote from MLK Jr. (“If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way.”), tells the story (stories) of Ruth Jefferson, Turk Bauer (and his wife Brittany), and Kennedy McQuarrie. Ruth is an L&D nurse that has been practicing for 20 years at a small hospital in Connecticut. When Turk and his wife come in to have their baby, they ask for Ruth to be removed as their nurse because they, as white supremacists, are not comfortable with a black nurse touching their child. When disaster strikes and the baby goes into cardiac arrest and dies, the Bauer’s see Ruth touching the baby as part of the resuscitation efforts and accuse her of causing the death of their baby. Kennedy is the public defender who takes Ruth’s case. This story is told from their three, alternating, perspectives.
I am having a really hard time writing my thoughts about this novel. Starting with the easy stuff, the hallmarks of Picoult’s books are all there. It’s the high drama and complicated intersecting stories. It’s the research about L&D, postpartum care, and courtroom performance, that is clear through how in depth the story is. It’s the well-crafted supporting characters that, in my opinion, are sometimes even more compelling than the main characters (For example, Ruth’s son Edison and Turk’s wife Brittany – their character development and denouements as they experience the unfolding story are transformative and eye-opening, for both themselves and the reader). It’s the tension she creates that actually, at times, had me so stressed about what was coming next that I didn’t want to pick the book up again. And it’s the fast-moving, complex dialogue, particularly in the courtroom, that really bring the scenes and characters to life. All that (despite and ending that was perhaps a bit too perfect to be real), that made this an impressive, page-turning read.
But here’s where things get more…difficult…for me. I feel like Picoult chose her POVs for maximum shock impact and, because they are almost all foreign to her, seemed too caricatured or buzz-word-y for me. Definitely the most compelling narrator, as far as how “real” the voice felt, was Kennedy – essentially the character that is most similar to Picoult. It’s clear she did research to write the parts for Turk and Ruth, and not just because she talks about it in the afterward, but it seems to me that she tried too hard to hit all the important “thoughts” or “stereotypes” of/from those characters (trying to over-include from said research) and so they lost their individuality and became manipulated figureheads for an entire group of people. To this point, a lot of sweeping, black and white (no pun intended), statements are made by Ruth and Turk that symbolize what outsiders think of “people like them” or what “people like them” think about others. This same sort of generalization applies to Ruth’s sister, Adisa, and Kennedy’s mother. So I guess the point I’m making is…I’m maybe uncomfortable with Picoult writing from these perspectives that aren’t hers when there are POC writers/authors who could have told those parts of the story better (and likely have tried) without the support/audience that Picoult has.
On the flip side, I do think that it’s worth pointing out that Picoult’s primary audience is a group of people that look like her. People that otherwise might not pick up a book on this topic and who are likely the people who most need to be exposed to the ideas of ingrained and institutionalized racism. The most important part of this book, the one that you can tell was most striking to Picoult herself because it’s the most well-developed transformation in the story, is Kennedy’s coming to terms with her own internal prejudices and how, just because they are not overt (like Turk’s), does not mean they aren’t just as harmful (if not more so). The importance of recognizing, so that you can then address, one’s own racism is incredibly difficult and insanely important. So to that end, I feel like Picoult is doing something good in using her platform to introduce some cognitive dissonance into a group of people that may otherwise never encounter it, because they wouldn’t know, or want, to go searching for it. But the fact that she has this platform to give a voice to people who do not have a platform for their own voices is, in essence the root of the problem.
I think what I would have LOVED to see, what would have made this book so much more, is for it to have been a collaboratively written novel. In the afterward, Picoult talks about her research for this novel, her concerns over making sure to get things right in addressing this sensitive and complex topic, and her responses to likely negative feedback from both white and POC readers. And kudos to her for acknowledging that her own limitations therein. But what I think would have been incredibly impactful would have been for Picoult to approach a POC writer to co-author with her. It would have added depth and truth to the novel, as well as actually giving a voice to the community this book professes to voice for. Picoult does truly have a great presence in contemporary literature and using that to truly practice what she says she hopes this book will do would have spoken a lot to her actual investment in the issue. Alternatively, even a list of “required reading,” books on similar topics by POC authors, that people could look into if they want more on this topic would have been something. All in all, I think some fabulous opportunities were lost.
This got long, so I’m a little sorry for that, but as I said, I had so many mixed thoughts and emotions while reading this and I’m still not totally sure how I feel about it. Where Picoult falls on the spectrum of “using your platform to help” to “coopting a story that is not yours” is something I don’t have an answer to and is not really even my question to answer. But no matter who is doing the writing, this issue of racism in America (and especially the institutionalized racism in the US courts) deserves all the air time it can get. Picoult uses that issue to tell a story for entertainment purposes, when it is actually a horrible reality for many, but it does at least bring light to the subject. And maybe, hopefully, its exploration of the many ways that people’s vulnerabilities can be taken advantage of and the internal prejudices we all have must be acknowledged and challenge will inspire some readers to do a little self-examination…and perhaps even make a statement or take a stand in social justice that they wouldn’t have considered before. Who knows?
If this is an issue that you want to learn more about, here are some further reading suggestions from me. It’s not exhaustive or totally representative, since it’s from my reading experience alone (and for all that I wish I could just read all day, I don’t have the time for that…), but it’s a place to start:
Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay
Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates
Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot
The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander (This is the only one on this list that I haven’t read yet, but it’s high on my TBR list and I wanted to point it out because it’s an incredibly important, recent written, book on this topic.)
“How many exceptions do there have to be before you start to realize that maybe the truths you’ve been told aren’t actually true?”
This book was the January choice for my long distance book club. I’ve read a couple books by Jodi Picoult (she is ridiculously prolific), and have enjoyed them, but it’s been years since the last one. I vaguely remember that they all have certain things in common, like alternating POV narration and, of course, a lot of drama related to a singular event/issue. Other than that, I actually didn’t know anything about this book going in. Somehow I had managed to never actually read a summary of the book before starting it. I’m not sure how that happened. Regardless, true to form, this book tackles a difficult topic in a clearly well-researched way and I can’t wait for our discussion of the book because there is a lot to talk about.
Small Great Things, named in reference to a quote from MLK Jr. (“If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way.”), tells the story (stories) of Ruth Jefferson, Turk Bauer (and his wife Brittany), and Kennedy McQuarrie. Ruth is an L&D nurse that has been practicing for 20 years at a small hospital in Connecticut. When Turk and his wife come in to have their baby, they ask for Ruth to be removed as their nurse because they, as white supremacists, are not comfortable with a black nurse touching their child. When disaster strikes and the baby goes into cardiac arrest and dies, the Bauer’s see Ruth touching the baby as part of the resuscitation efforts and accuse her of causing the death of their baby. Kennedy is the public defender who takes Ruth’s case. This story is told from their three, alternating, perspectives.
I am having a really hard time writing my thoughts about this novel. Starting with the easy stuff, the hallmarks of Picoult’s books are all there. It’s the high drama and complicated intersecting stories. It’s the research about L&D, postpartum care, and courtroom performance, that is clear through how in depth the story is. It’s the well-crafted supporting characters that, in my opinion, are sometimes even more compelling than the main characters (For example, Ruth’s son Edison and Turk’s wife Brittany – their character development and denouements as they experience the unfolding story are transformative and eye-opening, for both themselves and the reader). It’s the tension she creates that actually, at times, had me so stressed about what was coming next that I didn’t want to pick the book up again. And it’s the fast-moving, complex dialogue, particularly in the courtroom, that really bring the scenes and characters to life. All that (despite and ending that was perhaps a bit too perfect to be real), that made this an impressive, page-turning read.
But here’s where things get more…difficult…for me. I feel like Picoult chose her POVs for maximum shock impact and, because they are almost all foreign to her, seemed too caricatured or buzz-word-y for me. Definitely the most compelling narrator, as far as how “real” the voice felt, was Kennedy – essentially the character that is most similar to Picoult. It’s clear she did research to write the parts for Turk and Ruth, and not just because she talks about it in the afterward, but it seems to me that she tried too hard to hit all the important “thoughts” or “stereotypes” of/from those characters (trying to over-include from said research) and so they lost their individuality and became manipulated figureheads for an entire group of people. To this point, a lot of sweeping, black and white (no pun intended), statements are made by Ruth and Turk that symbolize what outsiders think of “people like them” or what “people like them” think about others. This same sort of generalization applies to Ruth’s sister, Adisa, and Kennedy’s mother. So I guess the point I’m making is…I’m maybe uncomfortable with Picoult writing from these perspectives that aren’t hers when there are POC writers/authors who could have told those parts of the story better (and likely have tried) without the support/audience that Picoult has.
On the flip side, I do think that it’s worth pointing out that Picoult’s primary audience is a group of people that look like her. People that otherwise might not pick up a book on this topic and who are likely the people who most need to be exposed to the ideas of ingrained and institutionalized racism. The most important part of this book, the one that you can tell was most striking to Picoult herself because it’s the most well-developed transformation in the story, is Kennedy’s coming to terms with her own internal prejudices and how, just because they are not overt (like Turk’s), does not mean they aren’t just as harmful (if not more so). The importance of recognizing, so that you can then address, one’s own racism is incredibly difficult and insanely important. So to that end, I feel like Picoult is doing something good in using her platform to introduce some cognitive dissonance into a group of people that may otherwise never encounter it, because they wouldn’t know, or want, to go searching for it. But the fact that she has this platform to give a voice to people who do not have a platform for their own voices is, in essence the root of the problem.
I think what I would have LOVED to see, what would have made this book so much more, is for it to have been a collaboratively written novel. In the afterward, Picoult talks about her research for this novel, her concerns over making sure to get things right in addressing this sensitive and complex topic, and her responses to likely negative feedback from both white and POC readers. And kudos to her for acknowledging that her own limitations therein. But what I think would have been incredibly impactful would have been for Picoult to approach a POC writer to co-author with her. It would have added depth and truth to the novel, as well as actually giving a voice to the community this book professes to voice for. Picoult does truly have a great presence in contemporary literature and using that to truly practice what she says she hopes this book will do would have spoken a lot to her actual investment in the issue. Alternatively, even a list of “required reading,” books on similar topics by POC authors, that people could look into if they want more on this topic would have been something. All in all, I think some fabulous opportunities were lost.
This got long, so I’m a little sorry for that, but as I said, I had so many mixed thoughts and emotions while reading this and I’m still not totally sure how I feel about it. Where Picoult falls on the spectrum of “using your platform to help” to “coopting a story that is not yours” is something I don’t have an answer to and is not really even my question to answer. But no matter who is doing the writing, this issue of racism in America (and especially the institutionalized racism in the US courts) deserves all the air time it can get. Picoult uses that issue to tell a story for entertainment purposes, when it is actually a horrible reality for many, but it does at least bring light to the subject. And maybe, hopefully, its exploration of the many ways that people’s vulnerabilities can be taken advantage of and the internal prejudices we all have must be acknowledged and challenge will inspire some readers to do a little self-examination…and perhaps even make a statement or take a stand in social justice that they wouldn’t have considered before. Who knows?
If this is an issue that you want to learn more about, here are some further reading suggestions from me. It’s not exhaustive or totally representative, since it’s from my reading experience alone (and for all that I wish I could just read all day, I don’t have the time for that…), but it’s a place to start:
Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay
Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates
Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot
The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander (This is the only one on this list that I haven’t read yet, but it’s high on my TBR list and I wanted to point it out because it’s an incredibly important, recent written, book on this topic.)
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
"Sure everything is ending [...], but not yet."
This is the very first book that I am crossing off my Beat the Backlist 2018 Reading Challenge List! Winner of the 2011 Pulitzer Prize, this is definitely a pre-2018 publication. And one that has been on my list for quite some time. It has such an attention-grabbing title, for starters, and flipping through it, there’s a whole chapter done in PowerPoint. Plus, a story based around an “aging” punk rocker and his assistant just seems like it could hold a lot of promise. I know there are very mixed reviews for this book, as (I have found) with most highly praised/awarded novels, but, in my opinion, this one definitely delivers.
So, like the description on the back cover states, this is a novel about Bennie (a music executive, post-punk rocker stage) and Sasha, his young, female assistant with a colorful past. Well, it’s mostly about them, objectively, though it doesn’t always really feel that way. The first two chapters are told from their perspectives (one each), but this book is primarily about them from the perspective of others. Each chapter is told by a different narrator, no repetitions, from different times in Bennie and Sasha’s lives. No single POV is ever repeated. We hear about these two from Bennie’s wife (future ex-wife), random date of Sasha’s, bandmates from Bennie’s youth, Sasha’s daughter (in the oft mentioned PowerPoint chapter), a girlfriend of Bennie’s “sponsor” into the world of record executive, a college friend (wanna-be boyfriend) of Sasha’s, and more. So while we piece together Bennie and Sasha’s lives from these narratives, we also get a lot about the circumstances and personalities of our narrators as they tell us about Bennie and Sasha. This makes the book feel like it is at least as much about them, and their inevitable interactions with each other, outside of the confining space of Bennie and Sasha’s stories. And none of these snippets of life are told in a normal chronological (or any other type of) order. This makes you really have to pay attention as each chapter opens and you are trying to figure out the connection of the narrator to the “story” as a whole, as well as when this narrator is speaking from (and it could be anywhere from the childhood of Bennie or Sasha to the far, speculative, future). It requires a serious investment and attention from the reader, but it totally works (and I cannot necessarily explain how/why, because I have read books where similar techniques definitely do not work).
The whole novel reads, in my opinion, more like a collection of short stories than a full-length story with a narrative arc. Even though by the end, you come away with the feeling that everything does, in fact tie together. And, to the credit of the author, every perspective truly does tie together; sometimes in expansive or obscure ways, but always cleanly and smoothly and believably. And with each chapter, as you figure out the connection(s), you get a huge wave of satisfaction as a reader that became quite addicting. However, with all the little details that are important and create a deeper and more meaningful story, this is definitely not a novel that you can read a little of and walk away from for weeks and expect to come back and get the same reading experience and satisfaction (not that you will ever want to put it down for that long…). In any case, back to my original point, it reads like a short story collection, with each chapter giving its own little “conclusion” as you work your way towards the final denouement. Egan’s overall story-crafting is really extraordinary.
As far as the thematic aspects of the novel, this is really an exploration of the developments and growth people experience throughout their lives and as they age. The “goon” in the title is a reference to time itself, and its constant forward movement, for everyone, no exceptions. How much we change is really remarkable, when you actually think about it. And by taking jumps between the biggest or most defining “moments” of these character’s lives (even when they do not recognize it for what it is at the time), Egan is really able to hone in on these changes. This is a very raw, sometimes harsh, commentary on these transformations, for good and bad, with insightful and occasionally cutting observations and judgements on life. However, the air of poeticism and at times satirical, softens the blows a little without taking away from the message(s) – a clear mark of Egan’s mastering of the English language.
It’s really difficult to put into words how in control of the story (stories) Egan is. There were so many spots where little lines made me gasp in recognition, remembrance or connection, either to other parts of this book or to my own life. The subtlety, poignancy and frequency of these moments are really what speaks to the brilliance of the author. You’ll either have to take my word for it…or read it yourself to find out.
"Sure everything is ending [...], but not yet."
This is the very first book that I am crossing off my Beat the Backlist 2018 Reading Challenge List! Winner of the 2011 Pulitzer Prize, this is definitely a pre-2018 publication. And one that has been on my list for quite some time. It has such an attention-grabbing title, for starters, and flipping through it, there’s a whole chapter done in PowerPoint. Plus, a story based around an “aging” punk rocker and his assistant just seems like it could hold a lot of promise. I know there are very mixed reviews for this book, as (I have found) with most highly praised/awarded novels, but, in my opinion, this one definitely delivers.
So, like the description on the back cover states, this is a novel about Bennie (a music executive, post-punk rocker stage) and Sasha, his young, female assistant with a colorful past. Well, it’s mostly about them, objectively, though it doesn’t always really feel that way. The first two chapters are told from their perspectives (one each), but this book is primarily about them from the perspective of others. Each chapter is told by a different narrator, no repetitions, from different times in Bennie and Sasha’s lives. No single POV is ever repeated. We hear about these two from Bennie’s wife (future ex-wife), random date of Sasha’s, bandmates from Bennie’s youth, Sasha’s daughter (in the oft mentioned PowerPoint chapter), a girlfriend of Bennie’s “sponsor” into the world of record executive, a college friend (wanna-be boyfriend) of Sasha’s, and more. So while we piece together Bennie and Sasha’s lives from these narratives, we also get a lot about the circumstances and personalities of our narrators as they tell us about Bennie and Sasha. This makes the book feel like it is at least as much about them, and their inevitable interactions with each other, outside of the confining space of Bennie and Sasha’s stories. And none of these snippets of life are told in a normal chronological (or any other type of) order. This makes you really have to pay attention as each chapter opens and you are trying to figure out the connection of the narrator to the “story” as a whole, as well as when this narrator is speaking from (and it could be anywhere from the childhood of Bennie or Sasha to the far, speculative, future). It requires a serious investment and attention from the reader, but it totally works (and I cannot necessarily explain how/why, because I have read books where similar techniques definitely do not work).
The whole novel reads, in my opinion, more like a collection of short stories than a full-length story with a narrative arc. Even though by the end, you come away with the feeling that everything does, in fact tie together. And, to the credit of the author, every perspective truly does tie together; sometimes in expansive or obscure ways, but always cleanly and smoothly and believably. And with each chapter, as you figure out the connection(s), you get a huge wave of satisfaction as a reader that became quite addicting. However, with all the little details that are important and create a deeper and more meaningful story, this is definitely not a novel that you can read a little of and walk away from for weeks and expect to come back and get the same reading experience and satisfaction (not that you will ever want to put it down for that long…). In any case, back to my original point, it reads like a short story collection, with each chapter giving its own little “conclusion” as you work your way towards the final denouement. Egan’s overall story-crafting is really extraordinary.
As far as the thematic aspects of the novel, this is really an exploration of the developments and growth people experience throughout their lives and as they age. The “goon” in the title is a reference to time itself, and its constant forward movement, for everyone, no exceptions. How much we change is really remarkable, when you actually think about it. And by taking jumps between the biggest or most defining “moments” of these character’s lives (even when they do not recognize it for what it is at the time), Egan is really able to hone in on these changes. This is a very raw, sometimes harsh, commentary on these transformations, for good and bad, with insightful and occasionally cutting observations and judgements on life. However, the air of poeticism and at times satirical, softens the blows a little without taking away from the message(s) – a clear mark of Egan’s mastering of the English language.
It’s really difficult to put into words how in control of the story (stories) Egan is. There were so many spots where little lines made me gasp in recognition, remembrance or connection, either to other parts of this book or to my own life. The subtlety, poignancy and frequency of these moments are really what speaks to the brilliance of the author. You’ll either have to take my word for it…or read it yourself to find out.
Superb sequel. The last book had everything I loved: vampies, witches, deamons, intrigue, history and a great love story. This one had all that PLUS time travel to the past. And really, not just any past, but Elizabethan England (my FAV), along with Prague (which has a wonderful magical history of its own...and I loved how the auther brought in Rabbi Leow and the golem). All in all the mix of actual historical figures, imaginary figures, and the role magic and vampires "played" in it all was great. Plus, I loved the instrocudtion on the character Gallowglass. And through it all we still get a sold love story. Yup, awesome. And I really just cannot wait for the third book. THis book set up so much so well! It's impressive...normally the first book instroduces and the third book wraps up and the second book is usually just a bad place filler in the middle. Not this time. COuldn;t put it down.
I have never in my life been more emotionally demolished by a book. One of the best love stories I have EVER read. Perhaps the best.
Holy. Ever-loving. Mind-blowing. Stars. Above. This was one of the most un-put-down-able books I have ever read. And I literally cannot stop thinking about...all of it. Rhys, his story, all his suffering. Feyre, her power, re-becoming herself. Their bond(s). All the beautiful intricate new characters - Amren, Mor, Azriel, Cassian. Elain and Nesta. Elian and Lucien. Nesta and Cassian. Their background and roles to play, their losses. The King of Hybern and his motives, Jurien and his obsessions, the mortal queens with mortal weaknesses. And the new family Feyre found, only to tear herself away from both them and her old family, her sisters, in order to save them all. The secret she shared with only Rhys that allowed them both to do it. The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. The depth of feeling in this novel. The depth of what Rhys has known and felt and how long he fought to protect something he thought he'd never have. The reality and time of Feyre's recovery, of coming to terms with what she did, the darkness inside she almost lost to, her discovery of her own person and freedom and choices, her own love to give. The way that everything you thought you knew, the perspective you thought you had from the first book - snap - we were so easily manipulated by what things looked like on the surface. The complicated web that has been woven of anger and revenge and toxic love and pure love and, above all, a dream. A dream of peace and beauty and cooperation and hope for that future, sacrifices for that dream, that future. GAH. And this was a second book. The one that's usually the worst. And this surpassed the first one by SO much, took the story so much deeper. Allowed new developments, relationships, characters, without falling into love triangle traps and silly tropes. I actually, literally cannot wait for the next one. I almost do not have words for how much this story sucked me in and how much I did not want it to end, to let me go. Just. Gorgeous.
Just amazing. I fell so hard in love with Jamie and Claire it was insane. And the amount of research that the author must have put it in nuts. So many aspects of the history, so many little details. Wow. And seriously I am so glad there are like 7 of them...I want more. I loved this book. Loved it.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“She closed her eyes and listened with her soul, and from deep within the hollow of the cave she heard the Beast’s song, the pulse of magic he’d taught her to hear. It was low and sweet, heavy with pain and age and the blurring of time. It held hints of things long forgotten, of stories and words and dreams and, most of all, desires. The song wanted. It wanted in the way Yeva had always wanted, wanted not so much a thing as everything, something beyond naming, something more than, different deeper.”
This’ll be a short intro. I LOVE Beauty and the Beast. It’s my favorite old school Disney movie and probably tied for favorite all time (with Tangled, of course). And don’t even get me started on the new live action with Emma Watson…it’s perfection. And in addition to loving Beauty and the Beast, I do love a good retelling. So this one was pretty much a no brainer for me. And boy was I right.
So we all know the story of Beauty and the Beast. Long, long ago, a young prince was cursed – in most cases because he was kind of a spoiled jerk. Along comes Beauty, a young woman with a heart full of books and adventure, who (for various reasons but almost always coming back to saving her single father in some way) ends up imprisoned by the Beast. Over time they get to know each other, things soften, Beauty helps Beast break his spell…and happily ever after!
This retelling does a wonderful job sticking to the general story we all know and love, but the changes Spooner makes are some of my favorites. First, the duality of the Hunter/Hunted. There is a great back and forth between Beauty and the Beast regarding which is which. Throughout the story they each play both roles in different ways and at different times for each other and the nuance in the changes was well written. Relatedly, while I do love the traditional nose-in-a-book Beauty, I liked that this Beauty (aka Yeva) was more of a “I’ll go find adventure myself and to hell with actually life and responsibilities.” as opposed making do with finding that adventure in books and then sort of accidentally falling into one with the Beast. (But don’t worry – the magic of stories and fairy tales is still very much a part of this tale.) This humanization, giving us an emotional and selfish and flawed heroine, was quite refreshing. Yeva’s hunting abilities and how they affect her role within her family (which is larger than the traditional father-daughter dynamic by two sisters) add great extra dimension. But the special bond she has with her father, hunting related, in this case, is a lovely nod back to the original. As far as the Beauty/Beast dynamic, can I just say that the pacing was spot on. This is the type of slow burn “romance” that, since we all know what’s coming eventually, tends to get rushed so we can get to the good part. But no, Spooner nails that drawn out relationship building. And there are extra twists and turns thrown into the mix, like the death of Yeva’s father and the way the curse manifests, that allow for it to take that long without boring the reader. The back and forth perspectives of the narrative added nicely to that development; and the light illustrations behind the Beast’s pages were a lovely visual addition. And finally, the ending. I mean, we all know what happens in a general sense, but the particular way that Yeva and her Beast finally truly “find” each other, “break” the curse, and the calling the binds their hearts together is original and alive and wonderful. And it’s something that so many people can really, truly, identify with. I thought it was really extraordinary and, after reading the afterwards in which Spooner talks about how important this story is to her, I definitely felt and understood that connection in her writing.
Overall, this was the entertaining, adventurous return to a timeless story. Revisiting the twists and turns of this story that holds a special place in my heart, along with the experience of Spooner’s new angles and details, was everything I was hoping for. If you have a soft spot for retellings, Beauty and the Beast, or magical romances that leave you feeling warm and fuzzy, then I definitely recommend this novel.
“She closed her eyes and listened with her soul, and from deep within the hollow of the cave she heard the Beast’s song, the pulse of magic he’d taught her to hear. It was low and sweet, heavy with pain and age and the blurring of time. It held hints of things long forgotten, of stories and words and dreams and, most of all, desires. The song wanted. It wanted in the way Yeva had always wanted, wanted not so much a thing as everything, something beyond naming, something more than, different deeper.”
This’ll be a short intro. I LOVE Beauty and the Beast. It’s my favorite old school Disney movie and probably tied for favorite all time (with Tangled, of course). And don’t even get me started on the new live action with Emma Watson…it’s perfection. And in addition to loving Beauty and the Beast, I do love a good retelling. So this one was pretty much a no brainer for me. And boy was I right.
So we all know the story of Beauty and the Beast. Long, long ago, a young prince was cursed – in most cases because he was kind of a spoiled jerk. Along comes Beauty, a young woman with a heart full of books and adventure, who (for various reasons but almost always coming back to saving her single father in some way) ends up imprisoned by the Beast. Over time they get to know each other, things soften, Beauty helps Beast break his spell…and happily ever after!
This retelling does a wonderful job sticking to the general story we all know and love, but the changes Spooner makes are some of my favorites. First, the duality of the Hunter/Hunted. There is a great back and forth between Beauty and the Beast regarding which is which. Throughout the story they each play both roles in different ways and at different times for each other and the nuance in the changes was well written. Relatedly, while I do love the traditional nose-in-a-book Beauty, I liked that this Beauty (aka Yeva) was more of a “I’ll go find adventure myself and to hell with actually life and responsibilities.” as opposed making do with finding that adventure in books and then sort of accidentally falling into one with the Beast. (But don’t worry – the magic of stories and fairy tales is still very much a part of this tale.) This humanization, giving us an emotional and selfish and flawed heroine, was quite refreshing. Yeva’s hunting abilities and how they affect her role within her family (which is larger than the traditional father-daughter dynamic by two sisters) add great extra dimension. But the special bond she has with her father, hunting related, in this case, is a lovely nod back to the original. As far as the Beauty/Beast dynamic, can I just say that the pacing was spot on. This is the type of slow burn “romance” that, since we all know what’s coming eventually, tends to get rushed so we can get to the good part. But no, Spooner nails that drawn out relationship building. And there are extra twists and turns thrown into the mix, like the death of Yeva’s father and the way the curse manifests, that allow for it to take that long without boring the reader. The back and forth perspectives of the narrative added nicely to that development; and the light illustrations behind the Beast’s pages were a lovely visual addition. And finally, the ending. I mean, we all know what happens in a general sense, but the particular way that Yeva and her Beast finally truly “find” each other, “break” the curse, and the calling the binds their hearts together is original and alive and wonderful. And it’s something that so many people can really, truly, identify with. I thought it was really extraordinary and, after reading the afterwards in which Spooner talks about how important this story is to her, I definitely felt and understood that connection in her writing.
Overall, this was the entertaining, adventurous return to a timeless story. Revisiting the twists and turns of this story that holds a special place in my heart, along with the experience of Spooner’s new angles and details, was everything I was hoping for. If you have a soft spot for retellings, Beauty and the Beast, or magical romances that leave you feeling warm and fuzzy, then I definitely recommend this novel.
I first heard of this book because at one point it was on Obama’s list of summer reads, or something to that effect. Other books that Obama had recently highlighted, like The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead, I’d read and enjoyed, but to be honest I really didn’t have any intention of reading this. However, a confluence of events, including someone gifting me a used copy and it being on an audiobook display at the library, prompted me to try. I tend to listen to books that I’m less inclined to sit and read, but want to have read. Enter H is for Hawk. I didn’t have any clue what this was about before starting it. Straight up, all I had was an assumption that hawks were somehow involved…and for some reason a vague inclination that it was a mystery novel, which is, it turns out, utterly incorrect.
This story, written and read by Helen Macdonald (which was cool – I always love an author-narrated audiobook), is more or less an autobiography (or memoir – what’s the actual difference there?). Helen has always been obsessed with hawks, she’s trained many of them in the past, but the sudden death of her father pushes her to decide to train a goshawk, a notably difficult (perhaps the most difficult) breed. This work is a reflection on the first year or so after her father’s death, mixing the challenges of training the goshawk with the challenges of dealing with loss and grief…and throwing in some childhood memories and a bit of intertwining a life/case study of British author T.H. White (best known for writing The Once and Future King, a novel that I personally really love) and his own experiences with training a goshawk, as reported in his book, The Goshawk.
I know this received a lot of awards and recognition as a study of bereavement, but I have to say, I don’t think it was for me. It definitely would have ended up on my DNF pile if I wasn’t listening to it. I do not know if this is partially because I wasn’t super into reading it to start. Or perhaps partially because I just read a memoir on grief, The Year of Magical Thinking, that was (in my opinion at least) considerably better, but even if I hadn’t just read that, I don’t think I would have been enamored of this book. The language was classic, elaborate and evocative, but many times it leaned a little too towards mesmerizing…in the zoning out/sleep inducing sense of the word. I definitely found myself zoning out more often than not. And when I was able to bring my thoughts back to the audiobook, I never felt like I missed anything (not really a great sign, I don’t think). Relatedly, this book was super description heavy, with more side tangents and sojourns than I felt like I could care about (from her father’s plane spotting notebooks to the bad weather during a certain week to the myriad ways White’s childhood messed up his life). Things just seemed scattered and only tangentially connected. And though I understand that mirrored her post-loss thoughts/feelings, it just didn’t hit home for me. There was just something about it that prevented me from really being emotionally connected. Last, I really felt like her perceived connection between herself and White was…odd, to say the least. I wasn’t sure I followed how her reasoning for how her goshawk training as a coping mechanism for her father’s death connected to White’s [way more inexperienced] efforts to train a goshawk that [in Helen’s opinion] was his coping mechanism for his horrible childhood and sexual attractions. I mean, maybe she didn’t totally get it either, because she mentions a couple times the feeling of him “haunting” her own experience and, really, the grieving process is so individual and this is just the form hers happened to take. But still the intensity of the focus on that aspect of her journey and how large a part of the book it is (though less a part than her own training journey, it did seem to be more present than the parts that were actually about her grief/father)…it felt weird to me.
There were definitely some lovely moments and I think it’s worth pointing them out. Like I mentioned, the writing itself is mature and clearly comes from a well-educated woman in full control of the language. And some of the points she made are a most recognizable mix of the universal and personal, like her description of the loneliness of grief and the separation you feel from everyone and everything. Even if you know others have experienced the exact same things, none of that knowledge or their assistance can help. Also, her thoughts on the narcissism of the bereaved, the feeling that everything seems to be coming from you or is your fault/responsibility (even though that is likely not the case) because you are so wrapped up in yourself/your situation that you cannot see outside of it, is so insightful. And her exploration of the differences between hardening your heart and not caring at all, and how they are not the same (particularly related to the part of the hawk’s training that involves killing its prey), is similarly interesting to read.
Overall, I can recognize why this book appealed to and impressed so many, but it just was not my cup of tea and I think that there are other books I’d recommend before this one to anyone dealing with grief and loss.
This story, written and read by Helen Macdonald (which was cool – I always love an author-narrated audiobook), is more or less an autobiography (or memoir – what’s the actual difference there?). Helen has always been obsessed with hawks, she’s trained many of them in the past, but the sudden death of her father pushes her to decide to train a goshawk, a notably difficult (perhaps the most difficult) breed. This work is a reflection on the first year or so after her father’s death, mixing the challenges of training the goshawk with the challenges of dealing with loss and grief…and throwing in some childhood memories and a bit of intertwining a life/case study of British author T.H. White (best known for writing The Once and Future King, a novel that I personally really love) and his own experiences with training a goshawk, as reported in his book, The Goshawk.
I know this received a lot of awards and recognition as a study of bereavement, but I have to say, I don’t think it was for me. It definitely would have ended up on my DNF pile if I wasn’t listening to it. I do not know if this is partially because I wasn’t super into reading it to start. Or perhaps partially because I just read a memoir on grief, The Year of Magical Thinking, that was (in my opinion at least) considerably better, but even if I hadn’t just read that, I don’t think I would have been enamored of this book. The language was classic, elaborate and evocative, but many times it leaned a little too towards mesmerizing…in the zoning out/sleep inducing sense of the word. I definitely found myself zoning out more often than not. And when I was able to bring my thoughts back to the audiobook, I never felt like I missed anything (not really a great sign, I don’t think). Relatedly, this book was super description heavy, with more side tangents and sojourns than I felt like I could care about (from her father’s plane spotting notebooks to the bad weather during a certain week to the myriad ways White’s childhood messed up his life). Things just seemed scattered and only tangentially connected. And though I understand that mirrored her post-loss thoughts/feelings, it just didn’t hit home for me. There was just something about it that prevented me from really being emotionally connected. Last, I really felt like her perceived connection between herself and White was…odd, to say the least. I wasn’t sure I followed how her reasoning for how her goshawk training as a coping mechanism for her father’s death connected to White’s [way more inexperienced] efforts to train a goshawk that [in Helen’s opinion] was his coping mechanism for his horrible childhood and sexual attractions. I mean, maybe she didn’t totally get it either, because she mentions a couple times the feeling of him “haunting” her own experience and, really, the grieving process is so individual and this is just the form hers happened to take. But still the intensity of the focus on that aspect of her journey and how large a part of the book it is (though less a part than her own training journey, it did seem to be more present than the parts that were actually about her grief/father)…it felt weird to me.
There were definitely some lovely moments and I think it’s worth pointing them out. Like I mentioned, the writing itself is mature and clearly comes from a well-educated woman in full control of the language. And some of the points she made are a most recognizable mix of the universal and personal, like her description of the loneliness of grief and the separation you feel from everyone and everything. Even if you know others have experienced the exact same things, none of that knowledge or their assistance can help. Also, her thoughts on the narcissism of the bereaved, the feeling that everything seems to be coming from you or is your fault/responsibility (even though that is likely not the case) because you are so wrapped up in yourself/your situation that you cannot see outside of it, is so insightful. And her exploration of the differences between hardening your heart and not caring at all, and how they are not the same (particularly related to the part of the hawk’s training that involves killing its prey), is similarly interesting to read.
Overall, I can recognize why this book appealed to and impressed so many, but it just was not my cup of tea and I think that there are other books I’d recommend before this one to anyone dealing with grief and loss.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“Because nothing says ‘welcome’ like a surprise umbrella-wielding giraffe head staring at you with laser beams for eyes.”
I had never heard of Jenny Lawson, her blog, or her previous books before I picked this audiobook up at the library. I was just looking through the new additions in search of something to listen to with a friend during a road trip. I wanted something funny, with some meaning, but nothing that would leave you on the edge of your seat, as it were, if we couldn’t finish it all (it was only a 3 hour or so drive). This is what I picked. Sadly, we never actually got around to listening to any of it during the road trip itself. But I listened to it afterwards. And I was so far beyond pleasantly surprised by how much I liked it that I texted my friend multiple times telling her that we missed out by talking instead of listening on our trip!
This is a sort of essay collection memoir from Jenny Lawson. She has a very popular blog, The Bloggess, that has really gotten a lot of attention for the way she addresses mental health, both in general and, in particular, her own struggles with depression and anxiety. She also has a previously published collection of personal essays about her childhood in rural Texas, her awkward high school years, her life with her husband, etc. This collection is a little more focused, I believe (having not read the first one), on her current life and living on the roller coaster of mental illness. The title is born of one of her most popular blog posts, where she spoke about combating her anxiety and depression by deciding to attempt to live life in a “furiously happy” way. And this book does a wonderful job portraying her actual efforts to follow through on that, mixed with her mental setbacks and roadblocks, and sprinkled with some just straight up hilarious stories.
I loved this book. Lawson narrates it herself and her voice/intonation throughout is perfect. I love the ridiculous chapters, about receiving felt vaginas in the mail, meeting kangaroos and koalas in Australia dressed in kangaroo and koala onesies, having midnight rodeos with her cats when she cannot sleep at night, the insane conversations she has with her therapist, and being convinced that her body is zombifying itself and trying to kill her. Also, I have never in my life read so much about taxidermy. Apparently, her father is a taxidermist, and it leads to so many ridiculous and unbelievable stories that were beyond entertaining to listen to. I could not get enough of the surreal situations Lawson found herself in (or made for herself) – they were outrageous in the best way. On the flip side, the few serious chapters interspersed throughout the collection, the ones that seriously addressed how hard living with mental illnesses can be, both on herself and her family/friends, were haunting and real and beautiful in their unpretentiousness and sincerity. It is undeniably important for her to share her insights, to help spread awareness and understanding for these highly (and horribly) stigmatized illnesses. And, although I do not have any actually diagnosed disorders, there were many parts of what Lawson talked about that I easily identified with: the anxiety, the tendency to overthink everything (especially her section on worrying about offending people), the imposter syndrome, and more.
Just a few other things I want to note…this is the “catch all” paragraph, forgive me. I particularly liked the spellcheck thread throughout the book – what it tried to autocorrect and Lawson’s reactions to that. Every section that included an argument with Victor was great – some sound very familiar and all are exactly the type of twisted logic that marriage (or any long terms relationship) brings out in people. The contractor chapter was on point (I laughed out loud with she got to the end and was living in the walls with the possums while the contractors had taken up residence in the main home). Her mind is a beautiful thing…despite the pushback she has to deal with from it, which admittedly is terrible at times, it gives her such imagination and originality! Every single “down the rabbit hole” situation she described was comical and absurdly creative. I am totally not a cat person but I cannot help but love the names of her cats (Hunter S. Tomcat and Ferris Mewler).
Everything about this was wonderful. It hit all the correct funny bones and serious notes to perfection. I would recommend this to pretty much anyone. Whether you are looking for something silly and entertaining right before bed (nice short chapters), something to keep you company while driving (it's seriously like a friend is in the car with you, telling stories), something to help you know you aren’t alone when you want to curl up in bed and never leave your room (but without being overbearing or wallow-y), or if you need some guidance in how to help any friends/family struggling with mental illness (in an encouraging and positive way), this book is it. Go forth, enjoy, and you are welcome!
“Because nothing says ‘welcome’ like a surprise umbrella-wielding giraffe head staring at you with laser beams for eyes.”
I had never heard of Jenny Lawson, her blog, or her previous books before I picked this audiobook up at the library. I was just looking through the new additions in search of something to listen to with a friend during a road trip. I wanted something funny, with some meaning, but nothing that would leave you on the edge of your seat, as it were, if we couldn’t finish it all (it was only a 3 hour or so drive). This is what I picked. Sadly, we never actually got around to listening to any of it during the road trip itself. But I listened to it afterwards. And I was so far beyond pleasantly surprised by how much I liked it that I texted my friend multiple times telling her that we missed out by talking instead of listening on our trip!
This is a sort of essay collection memoir from Jenny Lawson. She has a very popular blog, The Bloggess, that has really gotten a lot of attention for the way she addresses mental health, both in general and, in particular, her own struggles with depression and anxiety. She also has a previously published collection of personal essays about her childhood in rural Texas, her awkward high school years, her life with her husband, etc. This collection is a little more focused, I believe (having not read the first one), on her current life and living on the roller coaster of mental illness. The title is born of one of her most popular blog posts, where she spoke about combating her anxiety and depression by deciding to attempt to live life in a “furiously happy” way. And this book does a wonderful job portraying her actual efforts to follow through on that, mixed with her mental setbacks and roadblocks, and sprinkled with some just straight up hilarious stories.
I loved this book. Lawson narrates it herself and her voice/intonation throughout is perfect. I love the ridiculous chapters, about receiving felt vaginas in the mail, meeting kangaroos and koalas in Australia dressed in kangaroo and koala onesies, having midnight rodeos with her cats when she cannot sleep at night, the insane conversations she has with her therapist, and being convinced that her body is zombifying itself and trying to kill her. Also, I have never in my life read so much about taxidermy. Apparently, her father is a taxidermist, and it leads to so many ridiculous and unbelievable stories that were beyond entertaining to listen to. I could not get enough of the surreal situations Lawson found herself in (or made for herself) – they were outrageous in the best way. On the flip side, the few serious chapters interspersed throughout the collection, the ones that seriously addressed how hard living with mental illnesses can be, both on herself and her family/friends, were haunting and real and beautiful in their unpretentiousness and sincerity. It is undeniably important for her to share her insights, to help spread awareness and understanding for these highly (and horribly) stigmatized illnesses. And, although I do not have any actually diagnosed disorders, there were many parts of what Lawson talked about that I easily identified with: the anxiety, the tendency to overthink everything (especially her section on worrying about offending people), the imposter syndrome, and more.
Just a few other things I want to note…this is the “catch all” paragraph, forgive me. I particularly liked the spellcheck thread throughout the book – what it tried to autocorrect and Lawson’s reactions to that. Every section that included an argument with Victor was great – some sound very familiar and all are exactly the type of twisted logic that marriage (or any long terms relationship) brings out in people. The contractor chapter was on point (I laughed out loud with she got to the end and was living in the walls with the possums while the contractors had taken up residence in the main home). Her mind is a beautiful thing…despite the pushback she has to deal with from it, which admittedly is terrible at times, it gives her such imagination and originality! Every single “down the rabbit hole” situation she described was comical and absurdly creative. I am totally not a cat person but I cannot help but love the names of her cats (Hunter S. Tomcat and Ferris Mewler).
Everything about this was wonderful. It hit all the correct funny bones and serious notes to perfection. I would recommend this to pretty much anyone. Whether you are looking for something silly and entertaining right before bed (nice short chapters), something to keep you company while driving (it's seriously like a friend is in the car with you, telling stories), something to help you know you aren’t alone when you want to curl up in bed and never leave your room (but without being overbearing or wallow-y), or if you need some guidance in how to help any friends/family struggling with mental illness (in an encouraging and positive way), this book is it. Go forth, enjoy, and you are welcome!
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I received this book months ago, now, in my first (and only) Quarterly Box. I originally ordered it because the box is curated by the author and includes both their novel (with annotations!) and two other books that they used as inspiration for, or are in some other way related, to their own book. I thought it was such a cool idea. And really, it is. I thought the reading experience with the little notes from the author about where certain ideas came from, etc., was super unique and fascinating. And this was a really good book to have that for – it’s just so…weird…that being able to see where some of the author’s inspiration is from is extra necessary insight. Anyways, there’s my reason for reading Borne as my first Vandermeer, and not Annihilation (which is what most people are doing, since the movie adaptation comes out this year).
This is Rachel’s story. Rachel lives is a sort of futuristic post-apocalyptic ruin of a city in crumbling apartment cliffs with her secretive partner named Wick. The city itself is ruled over by a giant bear named Mord and is suffering in the midst of a power struggle between Mord and a mysterious figure known as the Magician. One say, while out scavenging for old biotech, Rachel finds/rescues Borne – a sort of shape changing biological weapon thing – who she more or less “raises” and starts to see as her child. It causes a rift between herself and Wick, but she can’t really help getting attached to Borne. And as time goes and Borne seems more and more dangerous, Rachel faces some tough decisions about him, her relationship with Wick, and, over it all, how to survive in the midst of the decay and peril that is the city. That’s about the best I can do in describing this plot of what is, mostly, an amorphous story of the broken-down future.
I’ll start with my critique of the plot, since I mostly just tried to summarize it. I felt like, for at least the first 2/3 of the book, nothing happened. It seemed like the most drawn out stage-setting opening sequence ever. And maybe that was necessary, because literally everything the author introduced was somehow foreign, bizarre, and more or less utterly unrecognizable. Descriptions of everything from the city itself to the Balcony Cliffs where Rachel and Wick live to Borne to the biotech (OMG the biotech) were so outside of my knowledge zone that I had to put in a lot of effort in attempting to imagine what it all looked like or how it worked. It was not an easy story to get into or to understand – so as a reader I recommend going in with that in mind. The last third of the book definitely picked up the pace though. Things started to actually happen. Mord and the Magician face legitimate challenges to their rule, Wick and Rachel are forced into action (so things must needs start happening), and Borne’s real part to play in the story becomes clearer. Side note: to that end, I was not a huge fan of the narrator foreshadowing from Rachel throughout the novel – I felt like the air of foreboding was strong enough without her saying “if only I had known…” what seemed like an excessive number of times. Regardless, the end, with reveals of some of both Wick’s and Rachel’s secrets and how they handle that, is really interesting, but nothing spectacular (i.e. – don’t expect fireworks). It’s worth noting though, that for all things got built up, that less than explosive denouement doesn’t seem like a let-down or anticlimactic. In fact, I feel like it fits in well with the tone of the story altogether. And the very end (no spoilers, promise), what might be considered a sort of epilogue to this main tale, was very cool. I really loved the “old” Rachel looking at herself as others would, with that outside perspective, and how others would never see the adventures in her past that she secretly holds inside herself.
Even though I felt like the plot itself read, at times, less than compulsively, the writing itself was absolutely awe-inspiring. Vandermeer’s use and mastery of language is just something else. Every single word is chosen carefully and specifically and the poetic flow of the writing is on point. It’s refined, evocative, and gorgeously creepy. As I mentioned, the air of doom that sits heavily over everything is tangible from page one and all the way through until the end. It never lets up, which is awesome and exhausting for the reader, and incredibly impressive from the author. The exchanges between Borne and Rachel are some of my favorites. Vandermeer’s manipulation of language is playful and remarkable and each exchange is intricate and the connections made are creative and fascinating.
Overall, Vandermeer’s ability to write the weird and creepy is extraordinary. Although it definitely took me time and effort to get into and start to “understand” this world, it is so fully realized that the end experience is worth it. And, if you haven’t already caught on, I thought the prose itself was unmatched. If you are someone who loves getting lost in another world when you read, this is one that will really come to life and pull you in. It’s not fast and it’s not easy, but if you’re an “ambiance” reader, than this is completely worth it.
Some pull quotes, because I couldn’t not:
“Incredible, how a slip could become a freefall and a freefall could become a hell where we lived on as ghosts in a haunted world.”
“The killing thing, the thing I couldn’t get over, is that it was beautiful. It was so incredibly beautiful, and I’d never seen that before. In the strange dark sea-blue of late afternoon, the river below splashing in lavender, gold, and orange up against the numerous rock islands and their outcroppings of trees…the river looked amazing. The Balcony Cliffs in that light took on a luminous deep color that was almost black but not, almost blue but not, the jutting shadows solid and cool.”
“As we removed the falsehood, as we built up the truth, damaged places became restored, whole rooms inside flickered with at least a semblance of light, and we cast the intruder farther out into the cold.”
“…the wrenching dislocation of trying to make two separate worlds match up, the one that was normal and the one that was grotesque, the old and the new – the struggle to make the mundane and the impossible coexist…”
“You forgive if you can forgive yourself, or live with what you’ve done. If you cannot live with what you have done, you cannot live with what others have done either.”
“We all just want to be people, and none of us know what that really means.”
“Life is still hard, but it is fair, and there is more joy in it that doesn’t feast on heartbreak.”
I received this book months ago, now, in my first (and only) Quarterly Box. I originally ordered it because the box is curated by the author and includes both their novel (with annotations!) and two other books that they used as inspiration for, or are in some other way related, to their own book. I thought it was such a cool idea. And really, it is. I thought the reading experience with the little notes from the author about where certain ideas came from, etc., was super unique and fascinating. And this was a really good book to have that for – it’s just so…weird…that being able to see where some of the author’s inspiration is from is extra necessary insight. Anyways, there’s my reason for reading Borne as my first Vandermeer, and not Annihilation (which is what most people are doing, since the movie adaptation comes out this year).
This is Rachel’s story. Rachel lives is a sort of futuristic post-apocalyptic ruin of a city in crumbling apartment cliffs with her secretive partner named Wick. The city itself is ruled over by a giant bear named Mord and is suffering in the midst of a power struggle between Mord and a mysterious figure known as the Magician. One say, while out scavenging for old biotech, Rachel finds/rescues Borne – a sort of shape changing biological weapon thing – who she more or less “raises” and starts to see as her child. It causes a rift between herself and Wick, but she can’t really help getting attached to Borne. And as time goes and Borne seems more and more dangerous, Rachel faces some tough decisions about him, her relationship with Wick, and, over it all, how to survive in the midst of the decay and peril that is the city. That’s about the best I can do in describing this plot of what is, mostly, an amorphous story of the broken-down future.
I’ll start with my critique of the plot, since I mostly just tried to summarize it. I felt like, for at least the first 2/3 of the book, nothing happened. It seemed like the most drawn out stage-setting opening sequence ever. And maybe that was necessary, because literally everything the author introduced was somehow foreign, bizarre, and more or less utterly unrecognizable. Descriptions of everything from the city itself to the Balcony Cliffs where Rachel and Wick live to Borne to the biotech (OMG the biotech) were so outside of my knowledge zone that I had to put in a lot of effort in attempting to imagine what it all looked like or how it worked. It was not an easy story to get into or to understand – so as a reader I recommend going in with that in mind. The last third of the book definitely picked up the pace though. Things started to actually happen. Mord and the Magician face legitimate challenges to their rule, Wick and Rachel are forced into action (so things must needs start happening), and Borne’s real part to play in the story becomes clearer. Side note: to that end, I was not a huge fan of the narrator foreshadowing from Rachel throughout the novel – I felt like the air of foreboding was strong enough without her saying “if only I had known…” what seemed like an excessive number of times. Regardless, the end, with reveals of some of both Wick’s and Rachel’s secrets and how they handle that, is really interesting, but nothing spectacular (i.e. – don’t expect fireworks). It’s worth noting though, that for all things got built up, that less than explosive denouement doesn’t seem like a let-down or anticlimactic. In fact, I feel like it fits in well with the tone of the story altogether. And the very end (no spoilers, promise), what might be considered a sort of epilogue to this main tale, was very cool. I really loved the “old” Rachel looking at herself as others would, with that outside perspective, and how others would never see the adventures in her past that she secretly holds inside herself.
Even though I felt like the plot itself read, at times, less than compulsively, the writing itself was absolutely awe-inspiring. Vandermeer’s use and mastery of language is just something else. Every single word is chosen carefully and specifically and the poetic flow of the writing is on point. It’s refined, evocative, and gorgeously creepy. As I mentioned, the air of doom that sits heavily over everything is tangible from page one and all the way through until the end. It never lets up, which is awesome and exhausting for the reader, and incredibly impressive from the author. The exchanges between Borne and Rachel are some of my favorites. Vandermeer’s manipulation of language is playful and remarkable and each exchange is intricate and the connections made are creative and fascinating.
Overall, Vandermeer’s ability to write the weird and creepy is extraordinary. Although it definitely took me time and effort to get into and start to “understand” this world, it is so fully realized that the end experience is worth it. And, if you haven’t already caught on, I thought the prose itself was unmatched. If you are someone who loves getting lost in another world when you read, this is one that will really come to life and pull you in. It’s not fast and it’s not easy, but if you’re an “ambiance” reader, than this is completely worth it.
Some pull quotes, because I couldn’t not:
“Incredible, how a slip could become a freefall and a freefall could become a hell where we lived on as ghosts in a haunted world.”
“The killing thing, the thing I couldn’t get over, is that it was beautiful. It was so incredibly beautiful, and I’d never seen that before. In the strange dark sea-blue of late afternoon, the river below splashing in lavender, gold, and orange up against the numerous rock islands and their outcroppings of trees…the river looked amazing. The Balcony Cliffs in that light took on a luminous deep color that was almost black but not, almost blue but not, the jutting shadows solid and cool.”
“As we removed the falsehood, as we built up the truth, damaged places became restored, whole rooms inside flickered with at least a semblance of light, and we cast the intruder farther out into the cold.”
“…the wrenching dislocation of trying to make two separate worlds match up, the one that was normal and the one that was grotesque, the old and the new – the struggle to make the mundane and the impossible coexist…”
“You forgive if you can forgive yourself, or live with what you’ve done. If you cannot live with what you have done, you cannot live with what others have done either.”
“We all just want to be people, and none of us know what that really means.”
“Life is still hard, but it is fair, and there is more joy in it that doesn’t feast on heartbreak.”