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This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“Believing is a type of magic. It can make something true.”
I don’t usually get to books this soon after publication (my TBR backlog is ridiculous), but based on the description (and that title!) this is one that I actually almost pre-ordered. I decided at the last minute not to, but still wanted to get to it as soon as possible. And I have to say, I’m now sorry I didn’t end up pre-ordering. This is worth every accolade and more. I’ve been on a lucky roll lately with good books, books that have blown me away and will likely stay favorites for years to come (My Absolute Darling, The Power), and this one is right up there with them.
After Leigh’s mother commits suicide on the same day that she *finally* kisses her years-long best friend and secret crush Axel, Leigh is thrown into a spiral of grief and confusion. She’s afraid to confront what happened with Axel and is crushed under the effort of trying to process that her mother is gone. A few nights after her mother’s death, Leigh dreams of a giant red bird and knows, knows, that it is her mother. When, a few nights later, this bird delivers a box of photos and letters written in Chinese (that Leigh cannot read), she finally convinces her father to take her to Taiwan – to visit her maternal grandparents that she has never met, that her mother would not talk about. Leigh leaves everything behind, ignoring Axel and, eventually, her father, in an all-out quest to “find” her mother (in bird form) in Taiwan, by visiting all her favorite places and learning everything she could about her mother’s past. Information that everything has kept from her, and tried to forget, for years. As the story goes, we see glimpses into the past, from as far back as her grandmother’s youth and her mother’s childhood in Taiwan to Leigh’s own memories about growing up alongside her mother’s depression and her evolving relationship with Axel.
There is so much that I loved about this novel. So much. In fact, to be totally transparent, I loved all of it. To start, the story was amazing. A beautiful and heart-squeezing novel of family – the breaks and guilt that are unavoidable to the love that appears/remains to fill the cracks. The conflict of familial expectations in contrast with the bid for freedom that all children have is a theme we can all identify with and is explored to perfection here. The complication and feel of “home”-lessness for immigrants and children of mixed descent are also important themes that develop as the story does. And the mixed complications of mental illness are also thoroughly and realistically portrayed, from the direct effects on the person struggling under them to the difficulties of their family and friends. Included in that, here, is the ofttimes impossible to accept fact that mental illness is unpredictable, that no one is to blame and there is not always an obvious answer or breaking point. And the grudges and pain that can come from the pressures each person experiences in these types of situations, ones that many times are not addressed or (in the best-case scenario) remedied, until it is too late. At times, reading through Leigh’s memories, and how she is looking back at them now in new light, was so tragic, so affecting. It was such a tangle exploration of the particular type of guilt and grief that comes with being the child of someone struggling with their mental health. (“When mom was quiet, our home felt like a pit deep in the ground. When she was loud and irrationally angry, our home was a storm cloud holding tightly on to all it’s thunder.”) And that exploration was woven together so smoothly with her discoveries from the past and concurrent struggle to understand and deal with her emerging feelings for her best friend. The journey of her grief and self-rediscovery, through its many stages, was visceral from the start and stayed all the way through until the finale. And though we do end with hope, with potential in the future, that doesn’t erase or supersede the ache for everyone involved.
In addition to the finesse of the story itself, and its impressively intertwined layers, the creativity and artistry in the telling was incredible. The author’s control of the pacing and wording kept me totally entranced. Along with that, the magical realism of the story was written flawlessly. Magical realism is one of my favorite subgenres and I haven’t read any that are better than this. Leigh’s connection with her mother’s bird spirit and family ghosts, her ability to reach into the past for memories, the feel of her world crumbling around her in her grief…all of it created a mixed world of “here” that seemed both completely real and totally impossible that played beautifully in a tale about grief. It was not just the author’s own creative skill that was so important, but that combined with the role that art played in the story. Leigh’s mother was an accomplished pianist, Leigh herself was gifted in sketching/drawing, and Axel was a visionary who connected music and 2D art in inventive ways. And each of their talents was part of the story in its own important way. In addition, the author uses colors in a unique way that I’ve never seen before – as descriptors for feelings. It was a theme that wound throughout the novel and stands, in my opinion, as one of the best used motifs I’ve ever experienced. And though this may seem small compared to all the other amazing aspects I just mentioned, I really learned some things about Taiwanese traditions, especially related to beliefs about grieving and ghosts (and food, of course). These cultural details were just one more fantastic and enlightening piece of this amazing novel.
There is nothing to do but say it: this book was astonishing. Truly astonishing. And if you asked me ‘what color?’ right now, right after finishing, I’d have to say the soft, incandescent saffron of inspiration.
I literally cannot get enough of how colors were used, so here are my favorites. There are a lot. I’m not sorry about it.
“The colors of this kind of grief should be stark and piercing, with the alarmed brightness of something toxic. Not the quiet hue of shadows.”
“I stand there with my feet rooted into the carpet of that memory, watching until my ribs crunch together and pulverize my heart and send the heat of my missing everywhere. The grief spills out of me sepia dark.”
“My worry expanded like a coral balloon, its color growing paler with every breath that filled its belly, until the worry was almost see-through, little more than the hint of a shadow, but nevertheless still constant, still there.”
“…suddenly I’m lost in an indanthrene blue, heavy with remembering.”
“My heart swells with raw-sienna hope.”
“Later the guilt for having the thought would come in heavy fluorescent-green waves, as if I’d committed the worst kind of betrayal.”
“…I drop my gaze, try to ignore the sap-green irritation dripping through my insides.”
“The urgency and longing wrap around me in swirls of aureolin and splotches of violet.”
“Weary of the shadows and storms being tugged to the surface of my mind, mauve spilling into raw umber.”
“Once upon a time we were the standard colors of a rainbow, cheery and certain of ourselves. At some point, we all began to stumble into the in-betweens, the murky colors made dark and complicated by resentment and quiet anger.”
“My voice comes out all ultramarine.”
“…the thought of him was a cobalt bruise I kept bumping.”
“I tried to swallow, but my throat wouldn’t work; there was something stuck in it, dry and methyl violet.”
“A living room bursting with magenta warmth and the dandelion cheer and all the hues of love, invisible but undeniably there.”
“I give myself a minute to think about it, until the certainty settles over me a disazo scarlet…”
“Every inch of me was filled with rhodamine red.”
“The sky turns purple. It begins to rain feathers. Every shade of red. Scarlet and merlot and opera rose and Venetian and ruby and mahogany and sangria and blood and currant reds.”
“The electricity crackled between us pyrazolone orange; he must’ve felt it, too.”
“During those absent years, his presence had turned a hard and icy blue, but now he brings with him a warm, reassuring yellow ochre.”
“My heart bursting with manganese blue and new gamboge yellow and quinacridone rose.”
“Believing is a type of magic. It can make something true.”
I don’t usually get to books this soon after publication (my TBR backlog is ridiculous), but based on the description (and that title!) this is one that I actually almost pre-ordered. I decided at the last minute not to, but still wanted to get to it as soon as possible. And I have to say, I’m now sorry I didn’t end up pre-ordering. This is worth every accolade and more. I’ve been on a lucky roll lately with good books, books that have blown me away and will likely stay favorites for years to come (My Absolute Darling, The Power), and this one is right up there with them.
After Leigh’s mother commits suicide on the same day that she *finally* kisses her years-long best friend and secret crush Axel, Leigh is thrown into a spiral of grief and confusion. She’s afraid to confront what happened with Axel and is crushed under the effort of trying to process that her mother is gone. A few nights after her mother’s death, Leigh dreams of a giant red bird and knows, knows, that it is her mother. When, a few nights later, this bird delivers a box of photos and letters written in Chinese (that Leigh cannot read), she finally convinces her father to take her to Taiwan – to visit her maternal grandparents that she has never met, that her mother would not talk about. Leigh leaves everything behind, ignoring Axel and, eventually, her father, in an all-out quest to “find” her mother (in bird form) in Taiwan, by visiting all her favorite places and learning everything she could about her mother’s past. Information that everything has kept from her, and tried to forget, for years. As the story goes, we see glimpses into the past, from as far back as her grandmother’s youth and her mother’s childhood in Taiwan to Leigh’s own memories about growing up alongside her mother’s depression and her evolving relationship with Axel.
There is so much that I loved about this novel. So much. In fact, to be totally transparent, I loved all of it. To start, the story was amazing. A beautiful and heart-squeezing novel of family – the breaks and guilt that are unavoidable to the love that appears/remains to fill the cracks. The conflict of familial expectations in contrast with the bid for freedom that all children have is a theme we can all identify with and is explored to perfection here. The complication and feel of “home”-lessness for immigrants and children of mixed descent are also important themes that develop as the story does. And the mixed complications of mental illness are also thoroughly and realistically portrayed, from the direct effects on the person struggling under them to the difficulties of their family and friends. Included in that, here, is the ofttimes impossible to accept fact that mental illness is unpredictable, that no one is to blame and there is not always an obvious answer or breaking point. And the grudges and pain that can come from the pressures each person experiences in these types of situations, ones that many times are not addressed or (in the best-case scenario) remedied, until it is too late. At times, reading through Leigh’s memories, and how she is looking back at them now in new light, was so tragic, so affecting. It was such a tangle exploration of the particular type of guilt and grief that comes with being the child of someone struggling with their mental health. (“When mom was quiet, our home felt like a pit deep in the ground. When she was loud and irrationally angry, our home was a storm cloud holding tightly on to all it’s thunder.”) And that exploration was woven together so smoothly with her discoveries from the past and concurrent struggle to understand and deal with her emerging feelings for her best friend. The journey of her grief and self-rediscovery, through its many stages, was visceral from the start and stayed all the way through until the finale. And though we do end with hope, with potential in the future, that doesn’t erase or supersede the ache for everyone involved.
In addition to the finesse of the story itself, and its impressively intertwined layers, the creativity and artistry in the telling was incredible. The author’s control of the pacing and wording kept me totally entranced. Along with that, the magical realism of the story was written flawlessly. Magical realism is one of my favorite subgenres and I haven’t read any that are better than this. Leigh’s connection with her mother’s bird spirit and family ghosts, her ability to reach into the past for memories, the feel of her world crumbling around her in her grief…all of it created a mixed world of “here” that seemed both completely real and totally impossible that played beautifully in a tale about grief. It was not just the author’s own creative skill that was so important, but that combined with the role that art played in the story. Leigh’s mother was an accomplished pianist, Leigh herself was gifted in sketching/drawing, and Axel was a visionary who connected music and 2D art in inventive ways. And each of their talents was part of the story in its own important way. In addition, the author uses colors in a unique way that I’ve never seen before – as descriptors for feelings. It was a theme that wound throughout the novel and stands, in my opinion, as one of the best used motifs I’ve ever experienced. And though this may seem small compared to all the other amazing aspects I just mentioned, I really learned some things about Taiwanese traditions, especially related to beliefs about grieving and ghosts (and food, of course). These cultural details were just one more fantastic and enlightening piece of this amazing novel.
There is nothing to do but say it: this book was astonishing. Truly astonishing. And if you asked me ‘what color?’ right now, right after finishing, I’d have to say the soft, incandescent saffron of inspiration.
I literally cannot get enough of how colors were used, so here are my favorites. There are a lot. I’m not sorry about it.
“The colors of this kind of grief should be stark and piercing, with the alarmed brightness of something toxic. Not the quiet hue of shadows.”
“I stand there with my feet rooted into the carpet of that memory, watching until my ribs crunch together and pulverize my heart and send the heat of my missing everywhere. The grief spills out of me sepia dark.”
“My worry expanded like a coral balloon, its color growing paler with every breath that filled its belly, until the worry was almost see-through, little more than the hint of a shadow, but nevertheless still constant, still there.”
“…suddenly I’m lost in an indanthrene blue, heavy with remembering.”
“My heart swells with raw-sienna hope.”
“Later the guilt for having the thought would come in heavy fluorescent-green waves, as if I’d committed the worst kind of betrayal.”
“…I drop my gaze, try to ignore the sap-green irritation dripping through my insides.”
“The urgency and longing wrap around me in swirls of aureolin and splotches of violet.”
“Weary of the shadows and storms being tugged to the surface of my mind, mauve spilling into raw umber.”
“Once upon a time we were the standard colors of a rainbow, cheery and certain of ourselves. At some point, we all began to stumble into the in-betweens, the murky colors made dark and complicated by resentment and quiet anger.”
“My voice comes out all ultramarine.”
“…the thought of him was a cobalt bruise I kept bumping.”
“I tried to swallow, but my throat wouldn’t work; there was something stuck in it, dry and methyl violet.”
“A living room bursting with magenta warmth and the dandelion cheer and all the hues of love, invisible but undeniably there.”
“I give myself a minute to think about it, until the certainty settles over me a disazo scarlet…”
“Every inch of me was filled with rhodamine red.”
“The sky turns purple. It begins to rain feathers. Every shade of red. Scarlet and merlot and opera rose and Venetian and ruby and mahogany and sangria and blood and currant reds.”
“The electricity crackled between us pyrazolone orange; he must’ve felt it, too.”
“During those absent years, his presence had turned a hard and icy blue, but now he brings with him a warm, reassuring yellow ochre.”
“My heart bursting with manganese blue and new gamboge yellow and quinacridone rose.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“…you can be scared to death […] and do the thing you need to do anyway.”
It’s been a little while since I listened to a celebrity memoir type audiobook and my “in the car driving” mood was calling out for one. I had heard a lot of people saying that they enjoyed Union’s book, so when I saw it on the new audiobooks display, I grabbed it before I even looked to see what else was available!
This collection of stories is interesting because, throughout them, you do get to sort of piece together (at least in skeleton form) what Union’s life looked like. However, this was definitely not the typical celebrity memoir, in that you should not expect to find the “this is my road to how I got famous” plotline. In fact, in one story, Union is just a normal teenager, and in the next she is referencing her time on set in some of her famous early movies. Boom. I actually liked that. Really, from the ones I’ve read, every celebrity has a specific and personal road to fame and there’s no real “formula,” but even still, that part tends to seem repetitive from book to book. I loved that this collection of stories about important moments and feelings and situations from her life is, more or less, just that. It is linear, but it’s snapshot emotions (or a snapshot of more enduring emotions). The only problem is that, at times, the feelings/actions of one chapter may in fact be contradicted in another, but that’s part of her growth as a person and you have to understand that as you read. In fact, her openness and honesty about many parts/points of her life, even the ones that do not, perhaps, show her best side or most selfless actions, is one of the things that I liked best about this book. There are times when she prioritizes competition to be the best/to get work over being a better role model. There are times when she handles relationships in a less than mature way (and sometimes even quite manipulatively). There are times when, despite all the invisibility and pressure to assimilate she has faced, she has inflicted that on others as well. But there is not one of us who hasn’t done some, if not all, of those things too. And I loved her for being willing to speak about it publicly.
There are a few other parts that I would like to highlight, as sections that stuck out or hit home particularly. First, I’d like to thank Union, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing the story of her rape. That is so personal, so painful, and so absolutely terrifying (both when it happened and in her decision to share it widely) – I cannot imagine the bravery it took her to speak out about it like this. And not just that, but the insights she shares into the process of going through the court system with it (something many people never have the chance or ability to do) and the ridiculous realization that there were many parts of her treatment (from law enforcement to medical professionals) that she has said she is grateful for because many women do not get those same considerations…the entire idea of that is an outrage. So that you, also, for your advocacy on that front. I also want to thank her for addressing the outrageous and invasively personal questions about her because she is a woman, particularly in relation to becoming pregnant and having children, and her plans therein. This story too must have been very difficult for her to share with the world, but is just as important for women everywhere.
In addition to that, Union spends a lot of time talking about her experience growing up in an all white community, the way being white was “natural” and anything else was “other,” and lengths to which she went to, as she referred to it, assimilate. In general, her discussions throughout the book about her own need for validation, both from without and externally, how that gets twisted, and what she was willing to do to get it (both in situations that arose from her being female or black or, in most cases, the intersectionality there) in striking. This concept is universal, of course, but something that never, ever, gets enough attention or recognition. For someone in her position to be talking about it is so important. Perhaps others have said it better, more eloquently, but the message is that same and Union is using her power in the best way. And we, as white people, need to listen. Hard. This continues later as she talks about her experiences of being marginalized and looked over in Hollywood, even after she has, if you will, “made it big.” And it continues even as she married Dwayne Wade and became doubly famous. And it continues to this day in her concerns for the boys she and Dwayne are raising together…because even living in affluent communities and having all the resources in the world, they are still facing the same things she dealt with at their age (and worse, because they are male).
It’s not just these more serious topics that Union writes about. We do hear about her time on set in some of our favorite “cult” classics (if I can use that term for these movies) like Bring it On and Ten Things I Hate About You. There’s a hilarious story about this girl in high school that just hated her and things got crazy! There is a wonderful and uplifting chapter about Prince, Union’s relationship with him, and how he was able to create so many open and far-reaching connections and communication and what that meant to her. There are some funny-depressing moments about things she’s done in relationships to hide certain parts of herself or to get what she wants (we’ve all been there). So you can look forward to all that as well.
There were references to a lot of shows and actors that I did not know (this happens in all celebrity memoirs for me – I am more of a book reader than a Hollywood follower – but I’m sure there were more than normal because, as she repeatedly talks about, black entertainers, “black Hollywood” is swept aside so often) and situations I can't necessarily relate too (like high school drinking, parental cheating and many issues that come with fame...though that's the point of reading memoirs, right?), but did not at all stop me from enjoying listening to this collection. Union reads it herself and does a phenomenal job. Her voice truly brings her own stories to life. As I mentioned, there are definitely some fun parts to this “memoir,” and of course they made me laugh and it was good. But for sure the most lasting parts are the serious ones. The themes and topics that she feels strongly about are clear and present throughout the book. She does everything she can to make it clear that these causes, these lived experiences, are close to her heart and she will continue to fight and advocate for them. And so should you. I loved that part of this memoir. It was just so much more because of those parts. Well done.
“…you can be scared to death […] and do the thing you need to do anyway.”
It’s been a little while since I listened to a celebrity memoir type audiobook and my “in the car driving” mood was calling out for one. I had heard a lot of people saying that they enjoyed Union’s book, so when I saw it on the new audiobooks display, I grabbed it before I even looked to see what else was available!
This collection of stories is interesting because, throughout them, you do get to sort of piece together (at least in skeleton form) what Union’s life looked like. However, this was definitely not the typical celebrity memoir, in that you should not expect to find the “this is my road to how I got famous” plotline. In fact, in one story, Union is just a normal teenager, and in the next she is referencing her time on set in some of her famous early movies. Boom. I actually liked that. Really, from the ones I’ve read, every celebrity has a specific and personal road to fame and there’s no real “formula,” but even still, that part tends to seem repetitive from book to book. I loved that this collection of stories about important moments and feelings and situations from her life is, more or less, just that. It is linear, but it’s snapshot emotions (or a snapshot of more enduring emotions). The only problem is that, at times, the feelings/actions of one chapter may in fact be contradicted in another, but that’s part of her growth as a person and you have to understand that as you read. In fact, her openness and honesty about many parts/points of her life, even the ones that do not, perhaps, show her best side or most selfless actions, is one of the things that I liked best about this book. There are times when she prioritizes competition to be the best/to get work over being a better role model. There are times when she handles relationships in a less than mature way (and sometimes even quite manipulatively). There are times when, despite all the invisibility and pressure to assimilate she has faced, she has inflicted that on others as well. But there is not one of us who hasn’t done some, if not all, of those things too. And I loved her for being willing to speak about it publicly.
There are a few other parts that I would like to highlight, as sections that stuck out or hit home particularly. First, I’d like to thank Union, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing the story of her rape. That is so personal, so painful, and so absolutely terrifying (both when it happened and in her decision to share it widely) – I cannot imagine the bravery it took her to speak out about it like this. And not just that, but the insights she shares into the process of going through the court system with it (something many people never have the chance or ability to do) and the ridiculous realization that there were many parts of her treatment (from law enforcement to medical professionals) that she has said she is grateful for because many women do not get those same considerations…the entire idea of that is an outrage. So that you, also, for your advocacy on that front. I also want to thank her for addressing the outrageous and invasively personal questions about her because she is a woman, particularly in relation to becoming pregnant and having children, and her plans therein. This story too must have been very difficult for her to share with the world, but is just as important for women everywhere.
In addition to that, Union spends a lot of time talking about her experience growing up in an all white community, the way being white was “natural” and anything else was “other,” and lengths to which she went to, as she referred to it, assimilate. In general, her discussions throughout the book about her own need for validation, both from without and externally, how that gets twisted, and what she was willing to do to get it (both in situations that arose from her being female or black or, in most cases, the intersectionality there) in striking. This concept is universal, of course, but something that never, ever, gets enough attention or recognition. For someone in her position to be talking about it is so important. Perhaps others have said it better, more eloquently, but the message is that same and Union is using her power in the best way. And we, as white people, need to listen. Hard. This continues later as she talks about her experiences of being marginalized and looked over in Hollywood, even after she has, if you will, “made it big.” And it continues even as she married Dwayne Wade and became doubly famous. And it continues to this day in her concerns for the boys she and Dwayne are raising together…because even living in affluent communities and having all the resources in the world, they are still facing the same things she dealt with at their age (and worse, because they are male).
It’s not just these more serious topics that Union writes about. We do hear about her time on set in some of our favorite “cult” classics (if I can use that term for these movies) like Bring it On and Ten Things I Hate About You. There’s a hilarious story about this girl in high school that just hated her and things got crazy! There is a wonderful and uplifting chapter about Prince, Union’s relationship with him, and how he was able to create so many open and far-reaching connections and communication and what that meant to her. There are some funny-depressing moments about things she’s done in relationships to hide certain parts of herself or to get what she wants (we’ve all been there). So you can look forward to all that as well.
There were references to a lot of shows and actors that I did not know (this happens in all celebrity memoirs for me – I am more of a book reader than a Hollywood follower – but I’m sure there were more than normal because, as she repeatedly talks about, black entertainers, “black Hollywood” is swept aside so often) and situations I can't necessarily relate too (like high school drinking, parental cheating and many issues that come with fame...though that's the point of reading memoirs, right?), but did not at all stop me from enjoying listening to this collection. Union reads it herself and does a phenomenal job. Her voice truly brings her own stories to life. As I mentioned, there are definitely some fun parts to this “memoir,” and of course they made me laugh and it was good. But for sure the most lasting parts are the serious ones. The themes and topics that she feels strongly about are clear and present throughout the book. She does everything she can to make it clear that these causes, these lived experiences, are close to her heart and she will continue to fight and advocate for them. And so should you. I loved that part of this memoir. It was just so much more because of those parts. Well done.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I’m not always a short story person. I don’t read a lot of them, so when I do decide to pick up a book like this, you know there’s a good reason. In this case, a collection of stories billed as genre-defying representations of the female experience. Honestly, that’s an almost impossible description for me to pass up. And it was accurate AF, let me tell you!
As usual for my short story collection reviews, I’m going to give a little blurb about each. But before that, let me just say a few things in general. Regarding to the genre – the billing was right. This defies categorization: speculative, ghost (ish), thriller, contemporary, sci-fi, satire and probably more. It’s got an overall otherworldly vibe that sits over you while you read, an aura that feels almost like it is seeping into your bones. It’s the perfect atmosphere for the stories the author is telling. This was one of the darkest, weirdest, and hardest to read collections of anything that I have ever experienced. Every story had a bit of the surreal, of sexy (or sexiness, maybe, if you want to describe it that way), and of terror - in various combinations. There were some that hit so hard it was almost hard to breathe while reading. And there were others that I wanted badly to understand, and felt like I almost did, had almost grasped some deeper meaning from, some greater message, but then at the last second it would slip away and I was left a little lost and unsure. It was frustrating, but also possibly on purpose? I mean, even as a woman, I cannot understand (and should not expect to) the experiences of every other woman. I’m going to choose to interpret it that way because that fits this collection more than anything else I can think of. And because it’s true. Finally, the general normalcy inherent in the fluidity of sexuality between stories was refreshing, representative and definitely one of the things I liked most about the collection as a whole.
The Husband Stitch: This was a great opening story, and one of my overall favorites. It’s beautifully sexual, an inspiration for women everywhere to pursue their own pleasure. And the creepy fairy tale metaphor sort of stories that are sprinkled throughout this piece are weird and wonderful. As for the overall story, the ribbon as a metaphor for men’s need to control/have it all is phenomenally written. Even though our main character is, sexually, everything he wants (the usual argument for/by men) he cannot get over NOT being allowed to touch her ribbon. That he is at base a “good man,” as in not obviously abusive or something else that could “easily” instill a reason to deny him, means that she can find no reason not to give him something/everything of herself. Despite that fact that it just being something that she isn’t comfortable sharing should be reason enough to “allow” her to hold back or keep it for herself. And that this vague need to save him from his own discomfort/need leads to her giving too much of herself, more than she can get back, and it becomes her end – it’s profound in such an important, but subtle way. Wow.
“…there are true things in this world observed only by a single set of eyes.”
Inventory: Another of my favorites! A post-apocalyptic type story, told through the lens of an inventory of sexual partners and the desperation to feel in the midst of a crisis. I loved the different situations and relationships, and how they were used as a vehicle to measure passing of time and changing environments. The juxtaposition of physical connection and emotional isolation was fascinating and well developed.
Mothers: This was written in gorgeously descriptive terms, but I have to say I didn’t really understand this one quite as much. That could have been the point, since it was difficult to tell what was real, what was past or present or future, or what was just completely made up. But it does address a topic that, truly I don’t think I’ve ever seen before in mainstream literature: interpersonal violence in same-sex relationships. And that is incredibly important.
Especially Heinous: This was one of my least favorite stories I think. It was like, a phantasm-ish live-tweet of Law and Order: SVU episodes. And I have to say I’ve never read anything like this before, but it was a strange experience. I have seen some episodes of the show, but not enough to really know what parts of this story were “real” or what was embellished or added by the author. That was a weird place to be in for me, as a reader. However, one thing I did really like was the clear and heavy weight of the haunting pain of witnessing and dealing with such terrible acts on a daily basis – the pressure and guilt of finding justice or letting people down. The horror of sexual violence is real and pervasive and all encompassing and affects everyone, both obvious and subtle, shared and hidden. That this story does end with a little bit of hope delicately suggests an end to the cycle and the possibility of absolution.
“People can be monsters, or vulnerable as lambs. They – no, we – are perpetrators and victims at the same time.”
“The sound of pattering water released from a watering can is so beautiful she wants to cry. Time to make something grow.”
Real Women Have Bodies: This one was awesomely creepy. There is definitely some kind of metaphor in this one, but I had trouble putting my finger on it. Definitely something related to the invisibility of women and the struggle against that. But also with a commentary on the perceived shallowness of women in relation to fashion, and how used we are by that industry. Perhaps? Regardless, this one will make you think and is very affecting.
Eight Bites: This is a heartbreaking story about being dissatisfied in your own skin based on the standards of others. And it’s about deciding to make a large change based on those “other” opinions that causes you to completely lose a part of yourself that you were never comfortable admitting the importance of before. But it’s too late and the regret is real… It also highlights how, when you are unhappy with yourself, your relationships with other people (like your children) suffer for it. And all of this, though based on a permanent change in this story, can also be true in cases of long-lasting attempts at temporary change that become to the focus of your life to exclusion of all other things, including things that used to make you happy. It’s honestly super depressing, but carries a moving message about the importance of self-acceptance.
“If you’re brave, you’ll turn your body over to this water that is practically an animal, and so much larger than yourself.”
The Resident: This was a crazy mental/psychological twisty sort of thriller, not necessarily scary, but more meant to incite fear due to lack of knowing what is real. This is the fear of finding out who you truly are, and coming to terms with it, despite what anyone else thinks or expects of you (and in fact sometimes flying right in the face of that). It’s the idea that intimate knowledge and possible acceptance of yourself can actually break you, but also can help you find something deeper in yourself to share with the world. Or at least, that what I got out of it. This was a harder one to understand/follow for me, and not necessarily one of my favorites in the collection.
“Were we driving toward the storm, a photograph of a side mirror would reveal light in the past, and darkness in the future.”
“What is worse: being locked outside of your own mind, or being locked outside of it?”
Difficult at Parties: OMG what a story to end one! This one was one of the best, in my opinion…but also, for me, the hardest to read. It was visceral, heart wrenching, haunting, real. It was, terrifyingly, absolutely and completely recognizable. Although this whole collection is about expectations and violence against women, this one was the most direct, addressing the “recovery” of a woman after an assault. The violation of safety, of self, the loss of who you were before, the detachment from...everything… It’s just, almost too much. And that is what makes it the one most needed.
Overall, I definitely recommend this edgy, brilliant collection from a real visionary writer!
I’m not always a short story person. I don’t read a lot of them, so when I do decide to pick up a book like this, you know there’s a good reason. In this case, a collection of stories billed as genre-defying representations of the female experience. Honestly, that’s an almost impossible description for me to pass up. And it was accurate AF, let me tell you!
As usual for my short story collection reviews, I’m going to give a little blurb about each. But before that, let me just say a few things in general. Regarding to the genre – the billing was right. This defies categorization: speculative, ghost (ish), thriller, contemporary, sci-fi, satire and probably more. It’s got an overall otherworldly vibe that sits over you while you read, an aura that feels almost like it is seeping into your bones. It’s the perfect atmosphere for the stories the author is telling. This was one of the darkest, weirdest, and hardest to read collections of anything that I have ever experienced. Every story had a bit of the surreal, of sexy (or sexiness, maybe, if you want to describe it that way), and of terror - in various combinations. There were some that hit so hard it was almost hard to breathe while reading. And there were others that I wanted badly to understand, and felt like I almost did, had almost grasped some deeper meaning from, some greater message, but then at the last second it would slip away and I was left a little lost and unsure. It was frustrating, but also possibly on purpose? I mean, even as a woman, I cannot understand (and should not expect to) the experiences of every other woman. I’m going to choose to interpret it that way because that fits this collection more than anything else I can think of. And because it’s true. Finally, the general normalcy inherent in the fluidity of sexuality between stories was refreshing, representative and definitely one of the things I liked most about the collection as a whole.
The Husband Stitch: This was a great opening story, and one of my overall favorites. It’s beautifully sexual, an inspiration for women everywhere to pursue their own pleasure. And the creepy fairy tale metaphor sort of stories that are sprinkled throughout this piece are weird and wonderful. As for the overall story, the ribbon as a metaphor for men’s need to control/have it all is phenomenally written. Even though our main character is, sexually, everything he wants (the usual argument for/by men) he cannot get over NOT being allowed to touch her ribbon. That he is at base a “good man,” as in not obviously abusive or something else that could “easily” instill a reason to deny him, means that she can find no reason not to give him something/everything of herself. Despite that fact that it just being something that she isn’t comfortable sharing should be reason enough to “allow” her to hold back or keep it for herself. And that this vague need to save him from his own discomfort/need leads to her giving too much of herself, more than she can get back, and it becomes her end – it’s profound in such an important, but subtle way. Wow.
“…there are true things in this world observed only by a single set of eyes.”
Inventory: Another of my favorites! A post-apocalyptic type story, told through the lens of an inventory of sexual partners and the desperation to feel in the midst of a crisis. I loved the different situations and relationships, and how they were used as a vehicle to measure passing of time and changing environments. The juxtaposition of physical connection and emotional isolation was fascinating and well developed.
Mothers: This was written in gorgeously descriptive terms, but I have to say I didn’t really understand this one quite as much. That could have been the point, since it was difficult to tell what was real, what was past or present or future, or what was just completely made up. But it does address a topic that, truly I don’t think I’ve ever seen before in mainstream literature: interpersonal violence in same-sex relationships. And that is incredibly important.
Especially Heinous: This was one of my least favorite stories I think. It was like, a phantasm-ish live-tweet of Law and Order: SVU episodes. And I have to say I’ve never read anything like this before, but it was a strange experience. I have seen some episodes of the show, but not enough to really know what parts of this story were “real” or what was embellished or added by the author. That was a weird place to be in for me, as a reader. However, one thing I did really like was the clear and heavy weight of the haunting pain of witnessing and dealing with such terrible acts on a daily basis – the pressure and guilt of finding justice or letting people down. The horror of sexual violence is real and pervasive and all encompassing and affects everyone, both obvious and subtle, shared and hidden. That this story does end with a little bit of hope delicately suggests an end to the cycle and the possibility of absolution.
“People can be monsters, or vulnerable as lambs. They – no, we – are perpetrators and victims at the same time.”
“The sound of pattering water released from a watering can is so beautiful she wants to cry. Time to make something grow.”
Real Women Have Bodies: This one was awesomely creepy. There is definitely some kind of metaphor in this one, but I had trouble putting my finger on it. Definitely something related to the invisibility of women and the struggle against that. But also with a commentary on the perceived shallowness of women in relation to fashion, and how used we are by that industry. Perhaps? Regardless, this one will make you think and is very affecting.
Eight Bites: This is a heartbreaking story about being dissatisfied in your own skin based on the standards of others. And it’s about deciding to make a large change based on those “other” opinions that causes you to completely lose a part of yourself that you were never comfortable admitting the importance of before. But it’s too late and the regret is real… It also highlights how, when you are unhappy with yourself, your relationships with other people (like your children) suffer for it. And all of this, though based on a permanent change in this story, can also be true in cases of long-lasting attempts at temporary change that become to the focus of your life to exclusion of all other things, including things that used to make you happy. It’s honestly super depressing, but carries a moving message about the importance of self-acceptance.
“If you’re brave, you’ll turn your body over to this water that is practically an animal, and so much larger than yourself.”
The Resident: This was a crazy mental/psychological twisty sort of thriller, not necessarily scary, but more meant to incite fear due to lack of knowing what is real. This is the fear of finding out who you truly are, and coming to terms with it, despite what anyone else thinks or expects of you (and in fact sometimes flying right in the face of that). It’s the idea that intimate knowledge and possible acceptance of yourself can actually break you, but also can help you find something deeper in yourself to share with the world. Or at least, that what I got out of it. This was a harder one to understand/follow for me, and not necessarily one of my favorites in the collection.
“Were we driving toward the storm, a photograph of a side mirror would reveal light in the past, and darkness in the future.”
“What is worse: being locked outside of your own mind, or being locked outside of it?”
Difficult at Parties: OMG what a story to end one! This one was one of the best, in my opinion…but also, for me, the hardest to read. It was visceral, heart wrenching, haunting, real. It was, terrifyingly, absolutely and completely recognizable. Although this whole collection is about expectations and violence against women, this one was the most direct, addressing the “recovery” of a woman after an assault. The violation of safety, of self, the loss of who you were before, the detachment from...everything… It’s just, almost too much. And that is what makes it the one most needed.
Overall, I definitely recommend this edgy, brilliant collection from a real visionary writer!
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I pretty much wanted to read this the first time I saw the description. Sometimes, for reasons I really can’t say, a combination of title and cover and description pull me in so hard. And this was one of those. Anyways, soon after I decided that I’d be definitely reading this, I saw that @words.between.worlds had chosen it as their May book and I pretty much took that as a sign that I needed to read it right now. I’m so glad I did.
Niru lives in Washington D.C. with his parents, Nigerian immigrants, in a nice house in a well-to-do neighborhood, attending a prestigious private school, preparing to graduate and attend Harvard (pre-med) in the fall. Things are pretty much perfect…outwardly. However, Niru has a major secret: he’s gay. And when he finally admits it out loud, things start to fall apart for him. His relationship with his best friend, Meredith, starts to crumble, and when his conservative, religious parents find out, the consequences are devastating and far-reaching. And while this would be difficult enough for anyone, neither Niru nor Meredith, nor their families, realize that a greater tragedy, even more senseless, is yet to come. And it will permanently affect them all.
This book. What a gentle telling of a gutting story. I seriously am having trouble processing the depths of this piece. Although short, it packs one of the largest punches of any book I’ve read recently (on par with Girls Burn Brighter). Let me start with the writing, because that will be a little easier to talk about. The book is told from two perspectives, a sort of before and after, split between Niru and Meredith. Both have the same feel in the writing, a sort of stream of consciousness, not bound by normal structural and grammatical rule constraints. It’s sometimes a little harder to follow than “normal” writing, but is absolutely worth it because it’s the perfect style for this sort of story, told from the minds of two adolescents/young adults. The format allows for one of the most authentic voices I’ve read in a long time, showcasing the vulnerability inside both, exemplifying that past the heartbreak of events themselves, the inner effects on each youth are where the sorrow of the story really shines through.
As for the story itself – it’s really something special. These two perspectives, within this particular plot, are something completely unique. I mean, the general themes are some that I have seen before, of course, but the combination of them in this way is new and refreshing (in a wrenching, shattering sort of way). It’s the worst and saddest case scenarios happening in circles and within families where that sort of thing “only happens to other people.” I was fascinated, in the “can’t look away from a trainwreck” way, by how these two families handled their separate parts in the books events…and the ways that impacted and changed their children. In addition to these parental ambitions/children’s attempts to meet expectations themes, this book also touched on religious and cultural identity/ideology, sexuality, racism and police violence, general image and “keep up with the Jones’,” the feeling of invincibility in adolescents (until they lose it), mental and emotional trauma, what is worth fighting for, what should stay hidden (image-wise), inter-generational changes, self-acceptance and searching for who you are, loss, guilt (so much guilt), and love (especially perceived conditional and unrequited). It’s literally a grab-bag of intense and heavy themes, all flawlessly woven together into one of the shortest books I’ve read this year (maybe ever). I don’t want to go into too much detail on these points, because I want to avoid spoilers for you, but seriously, it must have taken so much time and effort to craft this complex story into such a fine telling.
Honestly, this whole thing broke both my head and my heart. I had to take breaks in reading a couple times, and I can’t even tell you how hard it was to try and get words down on paper for this review. But at the same time, I am so glad that I picked this up. This is a novel for the reality of the modern day: staggering and visceral in its’ insights, gorgeously and poetically told, and powerful in its messages.
Let me share some quotes from this work of art:
“Desire is desire… Desire had no right. No wrong. It simply was…”
“I don’t fight battles I can’t win…It makes life less difficult.”
“Focus. On what – straight ahead to his face? But those lips. Say a prayer to slow this fast-beating heart? But his strong, delicate hands. To wet this dry mouth? But the soft slope of his nose. For deliverance?”
“There is no one to speak to about my headache and my stomachache when I leave by bedroom and encounter this beautiful prison that my parents have built, when I see pictures of me on the walls and side tables that bear no resemblance to the me they cannot see.”
“I feel like a start caught in the gravitational pull of a black hole, unraveling, spinning under the control of some unseen force, torn into streams of fire forever spiraling, never to be put together again.”
“On the bad days, there is no color. I know there are colors. I can see the colors, but the world looks gray. The sounds are muffled by a crackling web of static that sits behind my eyes and buzzes in my ears.”
“…our father lives somewhere between the self-satisfaction that his success has made us soft and disgust that we are unacquainted with the brutal intensity of a world that he has effectively tamed for us.”
“It hurts even if nature always wins in the end. It hurts because loving someone is very often against your will at first and there is no amount of will that can change the situation before me. I have tried.”
I pretty much wanted to read this the first time I saw the description. Sometimes, for reasons I really can’t say, a combination of title and cover and description pull me in so hard. And this was one of those. Anyways, soon after I decided that I’d be definitely reading this, I saw that @words.between.worlds had chosen it as their May book and I pretty much took that as a sign that I needed to read it right now. I’m so glad I did.
Niru lives in Washington D.C. with his parents, Nigerian immigrants, in a nice house in a well-to-do neighborhood, attending a prestigious private school, preparing to graduate and attend Harvard (pre-med) in the fall. Things are pretty much perfect…outwardly. However, Niru has a major secret: he’s gay. And when he finally admits it out loud, things start to fall apart for him. His relationship with his best friend, Meredith, starts to crumble, and when his conservative, religious parents find out, the consequences are devastating and far-reaching. And while this would be difficult enough for anyone, neither Niru nor Meredith, nor their families, realize that a greater tragedy, even more senseless, is yet to come. And it will permanently affect them all.
This book. What a gentle telling of a gutting story. I seriously am having trouble processing the depths of this piece. Although short, it packs one of the largest punches of any book I’ve read recently (on par with Girls Burn Brighter). Let me start with the writing, because that will be a little easier to talk about. The book is told from two perspectives, a sort of before and after, split between Niru and Meredith. Both have the same feel in the writing, a sort of stream of consciousness, not bound by normal structural and grammatical rule constraints. It’s sometimes a little harder to follow than “normal” writing, but is absolutely worth it because it’s the perfect style for this sort of story, told from the minds of two adolescents/young adults. The format allows for one of the most authentic voices I’ve read in a long time, showcasing the vulnerability inside both, exemplifying that past the heartbreak of events themselves, the inner effects on each youth are where the sorrow of the story really shines through.
As for the story itself – it’s really something special. These two perspectives, within this particular plot, are something completely unique. I mean, the general themes are some that I have seen before, of course, but the combination of them in this way is new and refreshing (in a wrenching, shattering sort of way). It’s the worst and saddest case scenarios happening in circles and within families where that sort of thing “only happens to other people.” I was fascinated, in the “can’t look away from a trainwreck” way, by how these two families handled their separate parts in the books events…and the ways that impacted and changed their children. In addition to these parental ambitions/children’s attempts to meet expectations themes, this book also touched on religious and cultural identity/ideology, sexuality, racism and police violence, general image and “keep up with the Jones’,” the feeling of invincibility in adolescents (until they lose it), mental and emotional trauma, what is worth fighting for, what should stay hidden (image-wise), inter-generational changes, self-acceptance and searching for who you are, loss, guilt (so much guilt), and love (especially perceived conditional and unrequited). It’s literally a grab-bag of intense and heavy themes, all flawlessly woven together into one of the shortest books I’ve read this year (maybe ever). I don’t want to go into too much detail on these points, because I want to avoid spoilers for you, but seriously, it must have taken so much time and effort to craft this complex story into such a fine telling.
Honestly, this whole thing broke both my head and my heart. I had to take breaks in reading a couple times, and I can’t even tell you how hard it was to try and get words down on paper for this review. But at the same time, I am so glad that I picked this up. This is a novel for the reality of the modern day: staggering and visceral in its’ insights, gorgeously and poetically told, and powerful in its messages.
Let me share some quotes from this work of art:
“Desire is desire… Desire had no right. No wrong. It simply was…”
“I don’t fight battles I can’t win…It makes life less difficult.”
“Focus. On what – straight ahead to his face? But those lips. Say a prayer to slow this fast-beating heart? But his strong, delicate hands. To wet this dry mouth? But the soft slope of his nose. For deliverance?”
“There is no one to speak to about my headache and my stomachache when I leave by bedroom and encounter this beautiful prison that my parents have built, when I see pictures of me on the walls and side tables that bear no resemblance to the me they cannot see.”
“I feel like a start caught in the gravitational pull of a black hole, unraveling, spinning under the control of some unseen force, torn into streams of fire forever spiraling, never to be put together again.”
“On the bad days, there is no color. I know there are colors. I can see the colors, but the world looks gray. The sounds are muffled by a crackling web of static that sits behind my eyes and buzzes in my ears.”
“…our father lives somewhere between the self-satisfaction that his success has made us soft and disgust that we are unacquainted with the brutal intensity of a world that he has effectively tamed for us.”
“It hurts even if nature always wins in the end. It hurts because loving someone is very often against your will at first and there is no amount of will that can change the situation before me. I have tried.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I had never heard of this book before I requested it from First to Read last month. But a couple people whose book opinions I respect had added it as “TBR” on Goodreads, so I decided to give it a chance. (This might be the shortest intro I have ever written on here, haha.)
Tin Man is about Ellis – a “nothing special” sort of working class man living in Oxford. As a young boy, he meets and becomes very close friends with Michael. It starts as a normal friendship, but over time and after living through loss and grief and fear together, something more develops between them. A sort of first love and a sexual exploration. But something happens, something that is not altogether fully explainable, but is also not surprising given the world at the time (the 1960s-1990s) and a decision is made that whatever they have will not become something more. And then Ellis meets Annie, they get married, and Michael disappears.
When we first meet Ellis, it’s the present day and he is clearly very alone. He’s lost, likely depressed, going through the motions, and has no one, really, in his life. But through his memories, we see what he had with Michael and Annie, his first and last loves (if you will). And as the story develops, we also see that those two loves shared something as well…so we are left with the question: what happened?
This is a relatively short book, but there is a lot of feeling in it despite the length. It’s a really sad and sweet story about the forms that love can take, the way relationships can grow and become important and intertwined even, and especially, in non-traditional ways. As we learn more about Ellis and Michael and Annie, how much they each meant to each other and what happened to each during their years spent apart, you cannot help but become emotionally invested in their connections to each other. I found myself truly caring for these characters and their particular brand of non-traditional, intertwined, love. However, there was something about the story that kept me at a distance from them too. I am not completely sure how to explain it, but something about the way it was written (see below for more on that) kept this strong and sweeping story at arm’s length – almost like it was a dream.
The form of this story is very ephemeral. It’s almost like reading a ghost story, with it’s tone of hushed poetry, reverence, grief and memory. And the strong motifs throughout, of art and soft color and sunflowers, only add to that meditative atmosphere. With the settings of the English country and the romanticized Southern France, mixed with the thematic explorations of the marginalization of men who like things like color and art (and other men), there is a melancholic and wistful feel that seeps into your bones as you read.
In the vein of A Little Life and The Heart’s Invisible Furies, this book explores the grand interconnections of love and loss over a lifetime, with the layered difficulties that are present when they’re shared between LGBT couples. But this book has its own charm, different from those two powerhouse stories, in its atmospheric intensity. It’s softer, somehow, haunting in a lyrical way that makes it distinct.
Thanks to First to Read and the publisher, G. P. Putnam’s Sons, for sending me an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I had never heard of this book before I requested it from First to Read last month. But a couple people whose book opinions I respect had added it as “TBR” on Goodreads, so I decided to give it a chance. (This might be the shortest intro I have ever written on here, haha.)
Tin Man is about Ellis – a “nothing special” sort of working class man living in Oxford. As a young boy, he meets and becomes very close friends with Michael. It starts as a normal friendship, but over time and after living through loss and grief and fear together, something more develops between them. A sort of first love and a sexual exploration. But something happens, something that is not altogether fully explainable, but is also not surprising given the world at the time (the 1960s-1990s) and a decision is made that whatever they have will not become something more. And then Ellis meets Annie, they get married, and Michael disappears.
When we first meet Ellis, it’s the present day and he is clearly very alone. He’s lost, likely depressed, going through the motions, and has no one, really, in his life. But through his memories, we see what he had with Michael and Annie, his first and last loves (if you will). And as the story develops, we also see that those two loves shared something as well…so we are left with the question: what happened?
This is a relatively short book, but there is a lot of feeling in it despite the length. It’s a really sad and sweet story about the forms that love can take, the way relationships can grow and become important and intertwined even, and especially, in non-traditional ways. As we learn more about Ellis and Michael and Annie, how much they each meant to each other and what happened to each during their years spent apart, you cannot help but become emotionally invested in their connections to each other. I found myself truly caring for these characters and their particular brand of non-traditional, intertwined, love. However, there was something about the story that kept me at a distance from them too. I am not completely sure how to explain it, but something about the way it was written (see below for more on that) kept this strong and sweeping story at arm’s length – almost like it was a dream.
The form of this story is very ephemeral. It’s almost like reading a ghost story, with it’s tone of hushed poetry, reverence, grief and memory. And the strong motifs throughout, of art and soft color and sunflowers, only add to that meditative atmosphere. With the settings of the English country and the romanticized Southern France, mixed with the thematic explorations of the marginalization of men who like things like color and art (and other men), there is a melancholic and wistful feel that seeps into your bones as you read.
In the vein of A Little Life and The Heart’s Invisible Furies, this book explores the grand interconnections of love and loss over a lifetime, with the layered difficulties that are present when they’re shared between LGBT couples. But this book has its own charm, different from those two powerhouse stories, in its atmospheric intensity. It’s softer, somehow, haunting in a lyrical way that makes it distinct.
Thanks to First to Read and the publisher, G. P. Putnam’s Sons, for sending me an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“The first thing that happens at the end of the world is that we don’t know what is happening.”
I’ve only ever read one other book by Louise Erdrich, The Round House, and was thoroughly impressed and emotionally drained by the book. It was a beautiful telling of a terrible story and tackles some serious issues around inequality and disparity faced by Native American peoples in the US. In any case, knowing what she was able to do with that novel, and seeing that this most recent publication of hers was focused around an issue particularly close to my own heart, pregnancy and womens’ rights to their own bodies, I knew that I would have to read it.
Future Home of the Living God follows Cedar Songmaker, adopted out of her Ojibwe tribe by a well-off, liberal, family from Minneapolis. When she finds out, at 26, that she is pregnant, she decides at long last (and before even telling her adoptive parents) to pay a visit to her birth mother, Mary Potts, on the reservation to find out more about her and her baby’s family history. Although this alone could make for a compelling family drama, this is not even close to the whole story. In this piece of speculative fiction, Cedar finds out that she is pregnant right at the world is facing a disastrous evolutionary event: the world is moving backwards. Scientists cannot explain or stop is, but evolution is reversing, and women everywhere are giving birth to children that appear to be more primitive versions of our species. This leads, invariably, to societal breakdown (martial law, religious zealotry, and more) and of course, crimes against the female body in the name of science and the general “good.” Starting with mandatory confinement of all pregnant women for observation and their own safety (with rewards for those who refuse to turn themselves in) and ending with rounding-up of all child-bearing-age women to be artificially inseminated with sperm bank donations saved from prior to this evolutionary reversal. Through all of this, Cedar struggles with her own self-knowledge, impending motherhood and how to keep her baby safe.
This is a fascinating premise, and one that is beautifully explored. The inevitable descent of humanity into extremity in the face of catastrophe is completely expected, but always difficult to read about. And it is so wonderfully developed here. It’s also so intriguing to me that, in this case, though the “end of the world as we know it” is terrifying, the unexplainable evolutionary reversals are serious and must be addressed and researched, the actual breakdown of society and structure is completely manmade. It’s not something fast like a meteor or other instantaneous or overnight tragedy that changes things. I mean, pregnancy is still a nine-month construct, one that happens continuously across the world, but not universally for all women (meaning that many will not be affected), so why is it necessary for such drastic measures to be taken so quickly? That reaction is entirely human and therefore the dystopian nature of the world at the time of Cedar’s pregnancy is both completely our fault and completely avoidable. What a unique and original concept this whole thing is! Alongside this originality is yet another take on the age old theme of women’s bodies being used against their will – though I say that in a way that makes it sound “already done,” that is not what I mean. The issues, though often explored, must needs be until it is no longer an issue and I support that and appreciated the use of the premise here. Plus, it was combined here with another, but less often seen, focus on how incarcerated bodies are used against their will “for the good of society” – violating rights on many levels in a population that has no way to defend themselves (an issue that the US has seen often throughout its history and still today). Skillfully woven in, and adding depth to the story, are plot lines around mother-daughter relationships, family dynamics in trying circumstances and across cultures, global warming/climate change and land rights of indigenous peoples.
As far as the writing itself – it was excellent. The details were exquisite throughout and the dialogue had wonderful flow, even when it was halting or interrupted, it was done so in such a real way as to make it flawless. Relatedly, I listened to this as an audiobook, which the author read herself, and it was perfectly narrated – there could not have been a better tone or inflection for the narration of this book. I highly recommend listening, if you plan to read this. The development of the plotline overall was deep and though the focus remained very internal to Cedar and her experiences throughout, enough of the outer world reached through her senses to give the reader a true feel for the circumstances of her situation(s). I do have to be honest, there were definitely some parts I was less enamored of. A few times, things seemed to drag a little, taking longer than they needed to in moving us to the next staccato jump of “big action,” if you will. It was a strange sort of pacing – long periods of inaction or slow action interspersed with short moments of great intensity. There were also a number of sections that go super introspective or philosophical (primarily from evolutionary and religious perspectives) and I was definitely less into that overall. To end on a positive note: I absolutely loved the ending. It was the exact right way to end a dystopian novel like this. The hopelessness was palpable, as it should have been – no false promises or unrealistically happy/closed-ended conclusion. It just fit so well. There are points of higher hope or future possibility elsewhere throughout the novel that you can focus on and take away if need be. And I know that type of ending is not everyone’s cup of tea, and maybe that’ll dissuade some from reading the book (if so, I’m sorry), but I would have been disappointed with anything else after the build-up from the rest of the plot.
This was a unique and atmospheric read, creating a world that seemed incredibly (scarily) real and fully formed. Although I think the overall message was maybe a little too occluded, and definitely not as succinct as it could have been, many important themes were still thoroughly addressed and explored. This this is definitely not for everyone, I do think it’s a great literary contribution from a prolific and esteemed author and you can definitely feel through the writing and that this is a story with great personal significance to her.
“The first thing that happens at the end of the world is that we don’t know what is happening.”
I’ve only ever read one other book by Louise Erdrich, The Round House, and was thoroughly impressed and emotionally drained by the book. It was a beautiful telling of a terrible story and tackles some serious issues around inequality and disparity faced by Native American peoples in the US. In any case, knowing what she was able to do with that novel, and seeing that this most recent publication of hers was focused around an issue particularly close to my own heart, pregnancy and womens’ rights to their own bodies, I knew that I would have to read it.
Future Home of the Living God follows Cedar Songmaker, adopted out of her Ojibwe tribe by a well-off, liberal, family from Minneapolis. When she finds out, at 26, that she is pregnant, she decides at long last (and before even telling her adoptive parents) to pay a visit to her birth mother, Mary Potts, on the reservation to find out more about her and her baby’s family history. Although this alone could make for a compelling family drama, this is not even close to the whole story. In this piece of speculative fiction, Cedar finds out that she is pregnant right at the world is facing a disastrous evolutionary event: the world is moving backwards. Scientists cannot explain or stop is, but evolution is reversing, and women everywhere are giving birth to children that appear to be more primitive versions of our species. This leads, invariably, to societal breakdown (martial law, religious zealotry, and more) and of course, crimes against the female body in the name of science and the general “good.” Starting with mandatory confinement of all pregnant women for observation and their own safety (with rewards for those who refuse to turn themselves in) and ending with rounding-up of all child-bearing-age women to be artificially inseminated with sperm bank donations saved from prior to this evolutionary reversal. Through all of this, Cedar struggles with her own self-knowledge, impending motherhood and how to keep her baby safe.
This is a fascinating premise, and one that is beautifully explored. The inevitable descent of humanity into extremity in the face of catastrophe is completely expected, but always difficult to read about. And it is so wonderfully developed here. It’s also so intriguing to me that, in this case, though the “end of the world as we know it” is terrifying, the unexplainable evolutionary reversals are serious and must be addressed and researched, the actual breakdown of society and structure is completely manmade. It’s not something fast like a meteor or other instantaneous or overnight tragedy that changes things. I mean, pregnancy is still a nine-month construct, one that happens continuously across the world, but not universally for all women (meaning that many will not be affected), so why is it necessary for such drastic measures to be taken so quickly? That reaction is entirely human and therefore the dystopian nature of the world at the time of Cedar’s pregnancy is both completely our fault and completely avoidable. What a unique and original concept this whole thing is! Alongside this originality is yet another take on the age old theme of women’s bodies being used against their will – though I say that in a way that makes it sound “already done,” that is not what I mean. The issues, though often explored, must needs be until it is no longer an issue and I support that and appreciated the use of the premise here. Plus, it was combined here with another, but less often seen, focus on how incarcerated bodies are used against their will “for the good of society” – violating rights on many levels in a population that has no way to defend themselves (an issue that the US has seen often throughout its history and still today). Skillfully woven in, and adding depth to the story, are plot lines around mother-daughter relationships, family dynamics in trying circumstances and across cultures, global warming/climate change and land rights of indigenous peoples.
As far as the writing itself – it was excellent. The details were exquisite throughout and the dialogue had wonderful flow, even when it was halting or interrupted, it was done so in such a real way as to make it flawless. Relatedly, I listened to this as an audiobook, which the author read herself, and it was perfectly narrated – there could not have been a better tone or inflection for the narration of this book. I highly recommend listening, if you plan to read this. The development of the plotline overall was deep and though the focus remained very internal to Cedar and her experiences throughout, enough of the outer world reached through her senses to give the reader a true feel for the circumstances of her situation(s). I do have to be honest, there were definitely some parts I was less enamored of. A few times, things seemed to drag a little, taking longer than they needed to in moving us to the next staccato jump of “big action,” if you will. It was a strange sort of pacing – long periods of inaction or slow action interspersed with short moments of great intensity. There were also a number of sections that go super introspective or philosophical (primarily from evolutionary and religious perspectives) and I was definitely less into that overall. To end on a positive note: I absolutely loved the ending. It was the exact right way to end a dystopian novel like this. The hopelessness was palpable, as it should have been – no false promises or unrealistically happy/closed-ended conclusion. It just fit so well. There are points of higher hope or future possibility elsewhere throughout the novel that you can focus on and take away if need be. And I know that type of ending is not everyone’s cup of tea, and maybe that’ll dissuade some from reading the book (if so, I’m sorry), but I would have been disappointed with anything else after the build-up from the rest of the plot.
This was a unique and atmospheric read, creating a world that seemed incredibly (scarily) real and fully formed. Although I think the overall message was maybe a little too occluded, and definitely not as succinct as it could have been, many important themes were still thoroughly addressed and explored. This this is definitely not for everyone, I do think it’s a great literary contribution from a prolific and esteemed author and you can definitely feel through the writing and that this is a story with great personal significance to her.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“Is it a story if you believe it?”
This recent release was one of the most hyped I have ever experienced, and a number of people who’s reviews I really trust loved it. Not only that, but the premise really did sound fascinating. I had wanted to read it faster, but, as life does, other books (and things) got in the way. And of course, the waitlist for it at the library was out of control. But last week I was actually there for a totally unrelated reason (the fact that my job often interacts with the library makes my “you are not allowed to check out any more books until you read the ones you have” really hard to follow sometimes) and saw it on the “lucky day shelf.” So here I am, after dropping everything else to read it before it’s due back (because you can’t renew lucky day books!).
The Immortalists opens with four siblings, living in NYC in 1969, going to visit a traveling seer/psychic. The woman tells each of them the date of their death, irrevocably altering each of their approaches to life and the future. Let me tell you just a little about each…
The youngest, Simon, breaks his family’s hearts (especially his mother’s) by running away to San Francisco and becoming a dancer. Young and gay in the 1980s, it is not hard to see where his story is going. But that doesn’t make reading it any less page-turningly tragic. I totally cried. This was a fascinating story to start with, and it really starts asking some of the questions that become the central theme of the entire novel. In this case, does knowing you will die young help you to live a fuller life and reach to experience more with your limited time? Or does it make you reckless and more likely to self-fulfill the prophecy? His naïve quest to live as his true self in the time he has is likely why this story hit me hardest of the four.
Next, Klara. The second youngest, she was the only family member present with Simon as he died and it has affected her greatly. Pulling on her need to keep him “alive” and blur the lines between life and death, the past and reality, Klara follows in her family namesake’s shoes and gets into stage magic. I’m honestly not a huge fan of this type of magic, but her character was so deeply and compellingly written that I didn’t mind it here. The mental strain she deals with regarding her knowledge of her death date, and how it pushes her to lose herself (in many ways), is a much more intense look at that theme of self-fulfilling prophecy that was introduced in Simon’s story. I was blown away by the emotional complexity here.
Daniel, second oldest, was likely my least favorite of the stories. He manages to “ignore” the death date prophecy throughout his life by pushing it out of mind and living/making choices without it as a driving factor. However, as his date draws closer, outside events bring memories of the old psychic back into his life and, along with a convenient suspension from work and visit from Klara’s husband and daughter dredging up long buried feelings, Daniel’s feelings of guilt for talking the siblings into visiting the woman in the first place cause him to make some very questionable decisions. I really enjoyed the more scientific exploration of self-fulfilling prophecy in this chapter, looking at the connections between the psychological and physiological, and the possible placebo role of the prophecy in Simon and Klara’s deahts. Even more fascinating was how Daniel “succumbed” (if you will) even knowing what he did as a doctor and as a survivor of his two younger siblings’ struggles with the same thing. I also loved seeing Klara’s daughter as a young adult, and how she is turning out while balancing her mother’s legacy but lack of direct parenting.
Last, we have the oldest, Varya. This one is perhaps, sneakily, the saddest of the four. Although she was given the farthest away death date, one that will allow her to live a legitimately long and fruitful life, her reactions to knowing it, and to surviving all her siblings’ deaths, cause her to live in a way that is quite…empty. She throws herself into research of longevity, spending all of her time and effort looking for ways to prevent what is, essentially, inevitable. She struggles with control issues, and OCD, with compulsions that she cannot help, in an effort to try and change outcomes. And she has chosen, not consciously maybe, but in action, to not create any long or lasting relationships, because they will all eventually lead to loss. The question that is asked here is slightly different, but thematically similar. If you could extend your lifetime by not fulling living (denying yourself many things, from creature comforts to dramatic caloric restrictions), is that better? What defines life – is it quantity or quality? This was phenomenally explored through Varya’s tale.
This truly was an amazing novel with a unique premise that completely delivered. Totally engrossing, it kept me turning pages late into the night and delved, in a truly profound way, into themes of family and what makes life worth living. I am really impressed by the breadth in this story. Unfortunately, I think I let the hype get to me, this was just not quite as spectacular as I was expecting. However, I have few to no actual complaints, just an overall feeling afterwards that the final fireworks display was missing somewhere (for me). I unreservedly recommend this though, as a magnificently written contemporary novel, to pretty much everyone.
Some quotes:
“She’s always thought of home as a physical destination, but…perhaps home, like the moon, will follow wherever she goes.”
“‘We know something about reality, my father and I. And I bet you know it, too. Is it that reality is too much? Too painful, too limited, too restrictive of joy or opportunity? No,’ she says. ‘I think it’s that reality is not enough.’”
“Thoughts have wings.”
“…the prophecy worked inside her like a virus. She saw it do the same thing to her siblings: it was evident in Simon’s sprints, in Daniel’s tendency towards anger, in the way Klara unlatched and drifted away from them. Perhaps they had always been like this. Or perhaps they would have developed in these ways regardless. But no…”
“Is it a story if you believe it?”
This recent release was one of the most hyped I have ever experienced, and a number of people who’s reviews I really trust loved it. Not only that, but the premise really did sound fascinating. I had wanted to read it faster, but, as life does, other books (and things) got in the way. And of course, the waitlist for it at the library was out of control. But last week I was actually there for a totally unrelated reason (the fact that my job often interacts with the library makes my “you are not allowed to check out any more books until you read the ones you have” really hard to follow sometimes) and saw it on the “lucky day shelf.” So here I am, after dropping everything else to read it before it’s due back (because you can’t renew lucky day books!).
The Immortalists opens with four siblings, living in NYC in 1969, going to visit a traveling seer/psychic. The woman tells each of them the date of their death, irrevocably altering each of their approaches to life and the future. Let me tell you just a little about each…
The youngest, Simon, breaks his family’s hearts (especially his mother’s) by running away to San Francisco and becoming a dancer. Young and gay in the 1980s, it is not hard to see where his story is going. But that doesn’t make reading it any less page-turningly tragic. I totally cried. This was a fascinating story to start with, and it really starts asking some of the questions that become the central theme of the entire novel. In this case, does knowing you will die young help you to live a fuller life and reach to experience more with your limited time? Or does it make you reckless and more likely to self-fulfill the prophecy? His naïve quest to live as his true self in the time he has is likely why this story hit me hardest of the four.
Next, Klara. The second youngest, she was the only family member present with Simon as he died and it has affected her greatly. Pulling on her need to keep him “alive” and blur the lines between life and death, the past and reality, Klara follows in her family namesake’s shoes and gets into stage magic. I’m honestly not a huge fan of this type of magic, but her character was so deeply and compellingly written that I didn’t mind it here. The mental strain she deals with regarding her knowledge of her death date, and how it pushes her to lose herself (in many ways), is a much more intense look at that theme of self-fulfilling prophecy that was introduced in Simon’s story. I was blown away by the emotional complexity here.
Daniel, second oldest, was likely my least favorite of the stories. He manages to “ignore” the death date prophecy throughout his life by pushing it out of mind and living/making choices without it as a driving factor. However, as his date draws closer, outside events bring memories of the old psychic back into his life and, along with a convenient suspension from work and visit from Klara’s husband and daughter dredging up long buried feelings, Daniel’s feelings of guilt for talking the siblings into visiting the woman in the first place cause him to make some very questionable decisions. I really enjoyed the more scientific exploration of self-fulfilling prophecy in this chapter, looking at the connections between the psychological and physiological, and the possible placebo role of the prophecy in Simon and Klara’s deahts. Even more fascinating was how Daniel “succumbed” (if you will) even knowing what he did as a doctor and as a survivor of his two younger siblings’ struggles with the same thing. I also loved seeing Klara’s daughter as a young adult, and how she is turning out while balancing her mother’s legacy but lack of direct parenting.
Last, we have the oldest, Varya. This one is perhaps, sneakily, the saddest of the four. Although she was given the farthest away death date, one that will allow her to live a legitimately long and fruitful life, her reactions to knowing it, and to surviving all her siblings’ deaths, cause her to live in a way that is quite…empty. She throws herself into research of longevity, spending all of her time and effort looking for ways to prevent what is, essentially, inevitable. She struggles with control issues, and OCD, with compulsions that she cannot help, in an effort to try and change outcomes. And she has chosen, not consciously maybe, but in action, to not create any long or lasting relationships, because they will all eventually lead to loss. The question that is asked here is slightly different, but thematically similar. If you could extend your lifetime by not fulling living (denying yourself many things, from creature comforts to dramatic caloric restrictions), is that better? What defines life – is it quantity or quality? This was phenomenally explored through Varya’s tale.
This truly was an amazing novel with a unique premise that completely delivered. Totally engrossing, it kept me turning pages late into the night and delved, in a truly profound way, into themes of family and what makes life worth living. I am really impressed by the breadth in this story. Unfortunately, I think I let the hype get to me, this was just not quite as spectacular as I was expecting. However, I have few to no actual complaints, just an overall feeling afterwards that the final fireworks display was missing somewhere (for me). I unreservedly recommend this though, as a magnificently written contemporary novel, to pretty much everyone.
Some quotes:
“She’s always thought of home as a physical destination, but…perhaps home, like the moon, will follow wherever she goes.”
“‘We know something about reality, my father and I. And I bet you know it, too. Is it that reality is too much? Too painful, too limited, too restrictive of joy or opportunity? No,’ she says. ‘I think it’s that reality is not enough.’”
“Thoughts have wings.”
“…the prophecy worked inside her like a virus. She saw it do the same thing to her siblings: it was evident in Simon’s sprints, in Daniel’s tendency towards anger, in the way Klara unlatched and drifted away from them. Perhaps they had always been like this. Or perhaps they would have developed in these ways regardless. But no…”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I saw this book in a photo on Bookstagram and, though I had never heard of it before, the title and cover just seriously called out to me. When I asked the person who posted the photo what they thought of the book (I wish I could remember who is was so I could give them a shout-out here…) and their answer was super positive, I knew I had to try it. Bonus: it is one of the best smelling books I’ve ever picked up (don’t even act like you aren’t into smelling book pages too). Honestly, I love a good hidden gem book and I want to start this review by saying that this is most definitely a hidden gem book. Totally under-hyped. So, here’s my attempt to change that!
“To many, I was myth incarnate, the embodiment of a most superb legend, a fairy tale. Some considered me a monster, a mutation. To my great misfortune, I was once mistaken for an angel. To my mother, I was everything. To my father, nothing at all. To my grandmother, I was a daily reminder of loves long lost. But I knew the truth – deep down, I always did. I was just a girl.”
The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender is the most accurate and perfectly fitting title for this novel. Told by Ava, this book examines her family, her heritage, and how she ended up living the life she is. Ava is special, she’s different: she was born with wings. (If you are not a “magical” or “fantasy” type reader, bear with me through this, don’t leave yet!) Because of this, she lives a life apart, and decides to do some research to try and find out where, exactly, she comes from…to better understand her own self and her place in the world. Starting back with her grandmother’s emigration to the United States from France as a child and following the family through to Ava’s current day life, this is a family saga. But more specifically, it’s a saga of the women of the family, and of the blessings and curses of love in their lives.
“Happiness had a pungent scent, like the sourest lime or lemon. Broken hearts smelled surprisingly sweet. Sadness filled the air with a salty, sea-like redolence; death smelled like sadness. People carried their own distinct personal fragrances.”
This is definitely a magical realism story. Obviously, as Ava was born with wings, it’s not strictly contemporary. And there are some other small moments that pull the magical realism in and together also, like when her grandmother’s sister turns herself into a canary as she pines over a man who is into bird watching or when her mother has such a keen sense of smell that she can tell when someone is pregnant (even before they themselves know). There are small details like this throughout the book, thrown in as short descriptions or points of interest, that add depth and interest to the story, but are not overbearing. It’s the absolute perfect type of magical realism, the kind that speaks to my very soul – that infuses ordinary, everyday, life with mystical qualities that make it just a little more special and spectacular. However, if you are not a “fantasy” person, then I also give you my word that it’s not overwhelming (that’s why I asked you to bear with me earlier)…it’s more like contemporary lit with a twist. In any case, it’s written exquisitely. The flow and tone are smooth and lulling, the names are all evocative and apt, and overall it reads like a contemporary fairy tale. I cannot say enough positive about the writing.
“If she thought of her love as a commodity, and were to, say, eat it, it would fill 4,745 cherry pies. If she were to preserve it, she would need 23,725 glass jars and labels and a basement spanning the length of Pinnacle Lane. If she were to drink it, she’d drown.”
A far as the story itself. This is a tale of three generations of love. All kinds of love: platonic, unrequited, pining, heartbreak, betrayal, unconditional, passionate, slow burn, young, familial and friend, obsessive, at first sight, for gain, false, comfortable/convenient, and so much more. Each type, from the familial to the passionate, is relayed with full depth and no-holds-barred reality. And at the same time, the hard ones, like unrequited, are told with such sweetness and tenderness that your heart is both broken and comforted at the same time. It’s gorgeous story-telling. However, right at the end, when the tale of obsessive love culminates in one of the most horrific displays I’ve ever read, the language changes to match. It’s still fairy tale-ish in feel, but the tenderness of the rest of the novel is replaced with harsher descriptions that paint a scene just as deeply seen (and felt), but this time it’s a scene that hurts, one that you don’t want to see. I was blown away by the transition. And that jarring change makes it all the more impactful – the shock we feel as the reader lining up perfectly with the shock Ava experiences. I don’t want to say too much (spoilers would completely ruin the reading experience), but just trust me. It’s everything. And then the ending. It’s a perfect open-ended, magical realism ending. I think it’s left up to the reader to interpret a little on their own, which is something that can be very frustrating, but which fits the rest of the book and is the right way to end this tale. Plus, either way you choose to “read” it, it’s a conclusive closing of this chapter of Ava’s life. (If you’ve read this, what do you think is means?)
“Just because love don’t look the way you think it should don’t mean you don’t have it.”
Like I said in my intro, this is a hidden gem of a book that I absolutely think deserves more praise and a wider audience. In the Author’s Note on the inside back cover, Walton says she came up with this story while “…pondering the logic, or rather, lack thereof, in love – the ways we coax ourselves to love, to continue loving, to leave love behind.” Well, if exploring those themes was her goal with this novel, than it’s my opinion that she totally nailed it. This is a simultaneously whimsical and genuine tale and you’ll leave it with your heart both full and aching in all the best ways.
I saw this book in a photo on Bookstagram and, though I had never heard of it before, the title and cover just seriously called out to me. When I asked the person who posted the photo what they thought of the book (I wish I could remember who is was so I could give them a shout-out here…) and their answer was super positive, I knew I had to try it. Bonus: it is one of the best smelling books I’ve ever picked up (don’t even act like you aren’t into smelling book pages too). Honestly, I love a good hidden gem book and I want to start this review by saying that this is most definitely a hidden gem book. Totally under-hyped. So, here’s my attempt to change that!
“To many, I was myth incarnate, the embodiment of a most superb legend, a fairy tale. Some considered me a monster, a mutation. To my great misfortune, I was once mistaken for an angel. To my mother, I was everything. To my father, nothing at all. To my grandmother, I was a daily reminder of loves long lost. But I knew the truth – deep down, I always did. I was just a girl.”
The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender is the most accurate and perfectly fitting title for this novel. Told by Ava, this book examines her family, her heritage, and how she ended up living the life she is. Ava is special, she’s different: she was born with wings. (If you are not a “magical” or “fantasy” type reader, bear with me through this, don’t leave yet!) Because of this, she lives a life apart, and decides to do some research to try and find out where, exactly, she comes from…to better understand her own self and her place in the world. Starting back with her grandmother’s emigration to the United States from France as a child and following the family through to Ava’s current day life, this is a family saga. But more specifically, it’s a saga of the women of the family, and of the blessings and curses of love in their lives.
“Happiness had a pungent scent, like the sourest lime or lemon. Broken hearts smelled surprisingly sweet. Sadness filled the air with a salty, sea-like redolence; death smelled like sadness. People carried their own distinct personal fragrances.”
This is definitely a magical realism story. Obviously, as Ava was born with wings, it’s not strictly contemporary. And there are some other small moments that pull the magical realism in and together also, like when her grandmother’s sister turns herself into a canary as she pines over a man who is into bird watching or when her mother has such a keen sense of smell that she can tell when someone is pregnant (even before they themselves know). There are small details like this throughout the book, thrown in as short descriptions or points of interest, that add depth and interest to the story, but are not overbearing. It’s the absolute perfect type of magical realism, the kind that speaks to my very soul – that infuses ordinary, everyday, life with mystical qualities that make it just a little more special and spectacular. However, if you are not a “fantasy” person, then I also give you my word that it’s not overwhelming (that’s why I asked you to bear with me earlier)…it’s more like contemporary lit with a twist. In any case, it’s written exquisitely. The flow and tone are smooth and lulling, the names are all evocative and apt, and overall it reads like a contemporary fairy tale. I cannot say enough positive about the writing.
“If she thought of her love as a commodity, and were to, say, eat it, it would fill 4,745 cherry pies. If she were to preserve it, she would need 23,725 glass jars and labels and a basement spanning the length of Pinnacle Lane. If she were to drink it, she’d drown.”
A far as the story itself. This is a tale of three generations of love. All kinds of love: platonic, unrequited, pining, heartbreak, betrayal, unconditional, passionate, slow burn, young, familial and friend, obsessive, at first sight, for gain, false, comfortable/convenient, and so much more. Each type, from the familial to the passionate, is relayed with full depth and no-holds-barred reality. And at the same time, the hard ones, like unrequited, are told with such sweetness and tenderness that your heart is both broken and comforted at the same time. It’s gorgeous story-telling. However, right at the end, when the tale of obsessive love culminates in one of the most horrific displays I’ve ever read, the language changes to match. It’s still fairy tale-ish in feel, but the tenderness of the rest of the novel is replaced with harsher descriptions that paint a scene just as deeply seen (and felt), but this time it’s a scene that hurts, one that you don’t want to see. I was blown away by the transition. And that jarring change makes it all the more impactful – the shock we feel as the reader lining up perfectly with the shock Ava experiences. I don’t want to say too much (spoilers would completely ruin the reading experience), but just trust me. It’s everything. And then the ending. It’s a perfect open-ended, magical realism ending. I think it’s left up to the reader to interpret a little on their own, which is something that can be very frustrating, but which fits the rest of the book and is the right way to end this tale. Plus, either way you choose to “read” it, it’s a conclusive closing of this chapter of Ava’s life. (If you’ve read this, what do you think is means?)
“Just because love don’t look the way you think it should don’t mean you don’t have it.”
Like I said in my intro, this is a hidden gem of a book that I absolutely think deserves more praise and a wider audience. In the Author’s Note on the inside back cover, Walton says she came up with this story while “…pondering the logic, or rather, lack thereof, in love – the ways we coax ourselves to love, to continue loving, to leave love behind.” Well, if exploring those themes was her goal with this novel, than it’s my opinion that she totally nailed it. This is a simultaneously whimsical and genuine tale and you’ll leave it with your heart both full and aching in all the best ways.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“Since when did you need a right to feel the way you felt?”
“Sometimes I feel guilty as hell for just being able to live my life.”
This book popped up onto the scene what seemed like overnight! I had never really heard of it or, to be honest, any of Tayari’s previous works, and then all of a sudden it was everywhere. Maybe this has to do with it being an Oprah’s Book Club choice…maybe not. She also came to speak at my local indie bookstore which, unfortunately, I was out of town for. However, I knew this was one I was going to have to read sooner rather than later, after seeing all the great reviews (and because I’m a sucker for the popular new releases – I always want to know what everyone is talking about!).
Roy is a business executive and Celestial is an artist on the brink of a major break, young and in love, newly married and picture-perfect examples of the American Dream and the New South. However, when Roy is arrested and sentenced to 12 years in prison for a crime that Celestial knows he didn’t commit, things change…dramatically (obviously). Roy is dealing with all the stress of wrongful conviction and an adjustment to prison life while Celestial finds herself alone and adrift without her partner to help as she faces career changes and difficult personal decisions. Over the years, Celestial visits and writes to Roy less and less, while spending ever more time with her childhood friend and confidante, Andre. At the same time, Roy finds himself dealing with a number of familial discoveries and losses. When, after 5 years, Roy’s appeals are finally heard and his conviction overturned, securing release 7 years early, there is a major reckoning on the horizon.
Told from three perspectives, Roy, Celestial and Andre, this is an incredibly complex presentation of relationships – the most nuanced story of a love triangle I have ever read. I’m actually finding it quite difficult to write this review (which is odd – normally I have a hard time not writing too much) for reasons that I cannot quite put my finger on. This story is just so raw and real. Each of the characters have their own voices, expertly crafted voices, and each has an experience and point of view that is both totally frustrating and completely sympathetic. There are times, reading each character’s perspective, when I thought they were totally “in the right” and times when I wanted to punch them. Just when I’d finally decide that one or the other or the third would get the emotional and moral upper hand, something would happen that would undermine it all and we’d be back to square one. I actually loved that about this book. There is no clear favorite, no easy out, no “answer,” which is often (if not always) the way things are in real life. But that’s what’s making it so hard to write my thoughts. I mean Roy is innocent, so he seems to be the natural “most hard done by,” but some of his thoughts and actions (both before and after prison) make him clearly not the perfect husband who should receive all the sympathy. Andre seems just like a good guy, more or less (though one who should really have grown a pair and voiced his feelings way earlier and everything would have been avoided), but he also definitely took advantage of a terrible situation in a way that is not altogether upstanding. And Celestial gives off more mixed signals that I’ve almost ever seen before, but I mean she’s also been put in an impossible situation. And truly, throughout the years, each character undergoes so many changes (and would be expected) but circumstances make it impossible to face all that in the “normal” way. So, things happen and rifts occur. It’s just all so thorny and handled so skillfully. GAH. (Side note: the ending does have a “finite” decision made – no spoilers – but if you are not a fan of an open-ended ending, even though the rest of the book is all grey space, the end does finally give you some black and white. And after such a soul-bearing type book as this one is, the solid conclusion, of a primarily happy nature, is a huge relief.)
In addition to this amazing exploration of difficult circumstances and relationships, of what makes love and marriage successful, there is a lot of knowledgeable and insightful critique of to social, legal and political climate in the current day US. A variety of black familial situations are represented, from the proverbial “pulled up by your own bootstraps” to being born into security/financial privilege, Tayari does a wonderful job representing many truths and the tension that lives between them. And she does it all while making it clear that, while within the black reality of today there are many variations, they are all, at any time, subject to the sudden loss/change that is unique to that population for no reason other than generations of deeply rooted prejudice.
This is one of those novels where it’s almost too easy to put yourself into the characters’ shoes…and that’s what makes it such an engaging read. I imagined myself as Celestial, young and facing 12 years alone while my husband serves time for something he is innocent of (and even if he was guilty…I’m sure many of the reactions/developments would be the same). I imagined myself in Andre’s shoes, with an “open” path to something I have wanted for years. I imagined myself in Roy’s shoes, locked away from everyone/thing I loved while they moved on without me, not knowing where I stood. Can I say I would truly act differently from any of them? And if I wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, how does that affect my reading experiences for each of their less than perfect characters? That’s the real power behind this novel. And it really was something special. I see the hype and I call it well deserved.
I’ve seen a lot of people who have reviewed this declaring themselves for “Team Roy” or “Team Andre.” I do have a preference (I call shenanigans if you finish this book without one), but I believe it would have been the same whether the events of this book had happened or not – I think there is just one of the two who’s personality would just plain fit better with mine. Maybe I’m fooling myself? Regardless, I’m Team Andre (with a hopeful heart that Roy would find contentment as well – I’ve always been a softie). If you’ve read this, what Team are you?
“Since when did you need a right to feel the way you felt?”
“Sometimes I feel guilty as hell for just being able to live my life.”
This book popped up onto the scene what seemed like overnight! I had never really heard of it or, to be honest, any of Tayari’s previous works, and then all of a sudden it was everywhere. Maybe this has to do with it being an Oprah’s Book Club choice…maybe not. She also came to speak at my local indie bookstore which, unfortunately, I was out of town for. However, I knew this was one I was going to have to read sooner rather than later, after seeing all the great reviews (and because I’m a sucker for the popular new releases – I always want to know what everyone is talking about!).
Roy is a business executive and Celestial is an artist on the brink of a major break, young and in love, newly married and picture-perfect examples of the American Dream and the New South. However, when Roy is arrested and sentenced to 12 years in prison for a crime that Celestial knows he didn’t commit, things change…dramatically (obviously). Roy is dealing with all the stress of wrongful conviction and an adjustment to prison life while Celestial finds herself alone and adrift without her partner to help as she faces career changes and difficult personal decisions. Over the years, Celestial visits and writes to Roy less and less, while spending ever more time with her childhood friend and confidante, Andre. At the same time, Roy finds himself dealing with a number of familial discoveries and losses. When, after 5 years, Roy’s appeals are finally heard and his conviction overturned, securing release 7 years early, there is a major reckoning on the horizon.
Told from three perspectives, Roy, Celestial and Andre, this is an incredibly complex presentation of relationships – the most nuanced story of a love triangle I have ever read. I’m actually finding it quite difficult to write this review (which is odd – normally I have a hard time not writing too much) for reasons that I cannot quite put my finger on. This story is just so raw and real. Each of the characters have their own voices, expertly crafted voices, and each has an experience and point of view that is both totally frustrating and completely sympathetic. There are times, reading each character’s perspective, when I thought they were totally “in the right” and times when I wanted to punch them. Just when I’d finally decide that one or the other or the third would get the emotional and moral upper hand, something would happen that would undermine it all and we’d be back to square one. I actually loved that about this book. There is no clear favorite, no easy out, no “answer,” which is often (if not always) the way things are in real life. But that’s what’s making it so hard to write my thoughts. I mean Roy is innocent, so he seems to be the natural “most hard done by,” but some of his thoughts and actions (both before and after prison) make him clearly not the perfect husband who should receive all the sympathy. Andre seems just like a good guy, more or less (though one who should really have grown a pair and voiced his feelings way earlier and everything would have been avoided), but he also definitely took advantage of a terrible situation in a way that is not altogether upstanding. And Celestial gives off more mixed signals that I’ve almost ever seen before, but I mean she’s also been put in an impossible situation. And truly, throughout the years, each character undergoes so many changes (and would be expected) but circumstances make it impossible to face all that in the “normal” way. So, things happen and rifts occur. It’s just all so thorny and handled so skillfully. GAH. (Side note: the ending does have a “finite” decision made – no spoilers – but if you are not a fan of an open-ended ending, even though the rest of the book is all grey space, the end does finally give you some black and white. And after such a soul-bearing type book as this one is, the solid conclusion, of a primarily happy nature, is a huge relief.)
In addition to this amazing exploration of difficult circumstances and relationships, of what makes love and marriage successful, there is a lot of knowledgeable and insightful critique of to social, legal and political climate in the current day US. A variety of black familial situations are represented, from the proverbial “pulled up by your own bootstraps” to being born into security/financial privilege, Tayari does a wonderful job representing many truths and the tension that lives between them. And she does it all while making it clear that, while within the black reality of today there are many variations, they are all, at any time, subject to the sudden loss/change that is unique to that population for no reason other than generations of deeply rooted prejudice.
This is one of those novels where it’s almost too easy to put yourself into the characters’ shoes…and that’s what makes it such an engaging read. I imagined myself as Celestial, young and facing 12 years alone while my husband serves time for something he is innocent of (and even if he was guilty…I’m sure many of the reactions/developments would be the same). I imagined myself in Andre’s shoes, with an “open” path to something I have wanted for years. I imagined myself in Roy’s shoes, locked away from everyone/thing I loved while they moved on without me, not knowing where I stood. Can I say I would truly act differently from any of them? And if I wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, how does that affect my reading experiences for each of their less than perfect characters? That’s the real power behind this novel. And it really was something special. I see the hype and I call it well deserved.
I’ve seen a lot of people who have reviewed this declaring themselves for “Team Roy” or “Team Andre.” I do have a preference (I call shenanigans if you finish this book without one), but I believe it would have been the same whether the events of this book had happened or not – I think there is just one of the two who’s personality would just plain fit better with mine. Maybe I’m fooling myself? Regardless, I’m Team Andre (with a hopeful heart that Roy would find contentment as well – I’ve always been a softie). If you’ve read this, what Team are you?
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I found this book as a used book store a few years ago and, having heard of it once or twice, decided to buy it. Since then, I have seen it more and more and, as I’m sure most people know by now, the movie adaptation is coming out late summer. So I’d slowly been moving it towards the top of my TBR (since of course I have to read it before I see the movie) when a friend of mine mentioned that she was planning to read it this summer. That’s an opening if I ever saw one…so I suggested a buddy read and then a movie night. Clearly the idea was a go!
The plot synopsis is going to be super fast and easy, compared to most of the other books I have read recently. Basically, Rachel Chu has been dating Nicholas Young for about 2 years. They live in NYC and are both in academia. When Nick invites her to go to Singapore with him for the summer (where he’s originally from) primarily as his date to his best friend’s wedding, but also to travel and meet his family, she agrees. However, Nick has been a little less than open about his family’s situation, and it’s not til Rachel arrives in Singapore that she realizes how much money Nick’s family has. In fact, he is from one of the richest families in the whole area, his best friend’s wedding is pretty much the event of the decade, and the entire community is steeped in old traditions, expectations and opinions. Cue the drama!
Crazy Rich Asians is, in fact the perfect summer read/movie. Although it took me until about a quarter of the way in to really get into the swing of it, once I hit my stride I literally could not stop turning pages. Rachel and Nick are a very cute couple and, though there are clearly some communication issues, nothing is maliciously done. They are a strong relationship throughout the novel and I really liked that – there was lots of drama to keep me occupied without their confidence in their relationship being one of those things. That being a point of stability was refreshing. As far as the rest, oh my goodness was it entertaining. I enjoyed the cultural glimpses we got of high class Singaporean life, from food and language and traditions to the uglier prejudices and manipulations. It’s a world so far removed from what I know, both culturally and financially, that it almost didn’t seem real at times. It made for great reading. In addition, the footnotes from the author, clarifying language and honorifics, explaining foods and beliefs had a perfect tone of snark and satire to them. And in fact, a few times he mentions his own experiences in the schools or with the foods he is writing about, which adds a really cool personal touch and also re-grounded the story in reality (at least for me). The nonstop gossip, maneuvering, and money spending made for an absolutely fascinating and diverting read.
Let me give a few small caveats to this review. As I mentioned, it took me a little while to get into the story. And I think primarily that’s because there are just so many characters. I flipped back to the family trees at the beginning a lot of times while I was first getting into it. Looking back, it maybe wasn’t that necessary – the main characters popped out and more or less came clear in time, and would have without my extra effort I’m sure. However, if you are a Type A reader or that kind of detail bothers you, beware before you start. Also, there were a number of times that the dialogue rang a little false for me. However, I realize that this was kind of a social commentary book, meant to expose some ridiculous-ness and also to entertain, so if you (as I tried to) keep that in mind, that annoyance really ends up fading into the background. But the people sometimes seem caricatured, and again, if that is something that bothers you, mentally prepare for it.
Overall, this is a great satirical snapshot of a life experience. Go into this book knowing that it’s a singular perspective (this is obviously not what life is like for a majority), and meant, at least partially, to amuse, and you will really enjoy it! Its plot driven, nonstop drama and super fun – the perfect summer read. And honestly, I cannot wait for the movie because OMG I am expecting a production of insane proportion!
I found this book as a used book store a few years ago and, having heard of it once or twice, decided to buy it. Since then, I have seen it more and more and, as I’m sure most people know by now, the movie adaptation is coming out late summer. So I’d slowly been moving it towards the top of my TBR (since of course I have to read it before I see the movie) when a friend of mine mentioned that she was planning to read it this summer. That’s an opening if I ever saw one…so I suggested a buddy read and then a movie night. Clearly the idea was a go!
The plot synopsis is going to be super fast and easy, compared to most of the other books I have read recently. Basically, Rachel Chu has been dating Nicholas Young for about 2 years. They live in NYC and are both in academia. When Nick invites her to go to Singapore with him for the summer (where he’s originally from) primarily as his date to his best friend’s wedding, but also to travel and meet his family, she agrees. However, Nick has been a little less than open about his family’s situation, and it’s not til Rachel arrives in Singapore that she realizes how much money Nick’s family has. In fact, he is from one of the richest families in the whole area, his best friend’s wedding is pretty much the event of the decade, and the entire community is steeped in old traditions, expectations and opinions. Cue the drama!
Crazy Rich Asians is, in fact the perfect summer read/movie. Although it took me until about a quarter of the way in to really get into the swing of it, once I hit my stride I literally could not stop turning pages. Rachel and Nick are a very cute couple and, though there are clearly some communication issues, nothing is maliciously done. They are a strong relationship throughout the novel and I really liked that – there was lots of drama to keep me occupied without their confidence in their relationship being one of those things. That being a point of stability was refreshing. As far as the rest, oh my goodness was it entertaining. I enjoyed the cultural glimpses we got of high class Singaporean life, from food and language and traditions to the uglier prejudices and manipulations. It’s a world so far removed from what I know, both culturally and financially, that it almost didn’t seem real at times. It made for great reading. In addition, the footnotes from the author, clarifying language and honorifics, explaining foods and beliefs had a perfect tone of snark and satire to them. And in fact, a few times he mentions his own experiences in the schools or with the foods he is writing about, which adds a really cool personal touch and also re-grounded the story in reality (at least for me). The nonstop gossip, maneuvering, and money spending made for an absolutely fascinating and diverting read.
Let me give a few small caveats to this review. As I mentioned, it took me a little while to get into the story. And I think primarily that’s because there are just so many characters. I flipped back to the family trees at the beginning a lot of times while I was first getting into it. Looking back, it maybe wasn’t that necessary – the main characters popped out and more or less came clear in time, and would have without my extra effort I’m sure. However, if you are a Type A reader or that kind of detail bothers you, beware before you start. Also, there were a number of times that the dialogue rang a little false for me. However, I realize that this was kind of a social commentary book, meant to expose some ridiculous-ness and also to entertain, so if you (as I tried to) keep that in mind, that annoyance really ends up fading into the background. But the people sometimes seem caricatured, and again, if that is something that bothers you, mentally prepare for it.
Overall, this is a great satirical snapshot of a life experience. Go into this book knowing that it’s a singular perspective (this is obviously not what life is like for a majority), and meant, at least partially, to amuse, and you will really enjoy it! Its plot driven, nonstop drama and super fun – the perfect summer read. And honestly, I cannot wait for the movie because OMG I am expecting a production of insane proportion!