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This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
The first time I saw this available on NetGalley, I clicked right past it. The blurb sounded intriguing (I do love stories about the “underbelly” of society) but I try to only request from NetGalley when something truly strikes me, so that my TBR there doesn’t get too backed up. However, right after that, I saw someone rave about it on bookstagram (I need to starting writing these accounts down when they inspire me, so I can remember who to credit later). Included in that rave was a note about how it really gives voice to a hitherto marginalized voice, historically and today. Well, I’ve been trying to branch out my representation in reading…so that, combined with the original intriguing synopsis, pushed me over the edge. And here we are. Although I missed the chance to actually publish this review prior to official publication (this is why I try not to request on NatGalley too much – it’s so easy to get buried!), I hope you’ll forgive the tardiness.
Confessions of the Fox is a vibrant historical fiction centered around the life of Jack Sheppard. Sold into servitude as a child, P spends years imagining a different life. One not only of freedom from indenture, but freedom of body and identity. When P meets and falls in love with Bess, a prostitute (or doxy, in the lingo of the book), she is pulled into the London underworld, transiting into a life as Jack Sheppard, the famous goal-breaker and thief extraordinaire, the person that has always been hidden inside. Throughout the novel, Jack and Bess get into a number of scrapes and adventures together, all while illuminating history, which has long been cis-white-washed, and learning to love themselves and each other along the way. As an added layer the entire story is rife with footnotes from Dr. Voth, the contemporary academic who found this transcript and is translating for us, the reader. His notes on/additions to the text, as well as the commentary related to his personal life, provide perspective to and parallel Jack’s story a way that makes for a much more profound reading experience.
First and foremost, I need to spoiler alert that this is the most fantastically bawdy book I’ve read in some time. And that is probably an understatement. The terms for body parts, sexual acts, and more are tossed about often and colorfully. The sheer volume of them was almost mind-boggling (in a good way). At times, since things are mostly described in historical vocabulary, there were euphemisms that had me laughing out loud. So it’s a different kind of bawdy than a typical romance novel, but definitely one of the most defining pieces of the book. Moving past that surface lewdness, this was actually a phenomenally intellectual novel. In fact, for full disclosure, there were a few times that the more philosophical explorations lost me a bit. This could be as a result of me skimming them, which is a bad habit I have when reading or because I was reading this novel on a plane and was quite tired at times or just simply because these discussions were truly over my head. Regardless, the amount of research involved in writing this book was clear throughout – prodigious and impressive.
The mix of these two types of styles, academic and vulgar, might seem like an odd pairing, but it works wonderfully in this case. Since one of the main topics of the story, for Jack, for our translator Dr. Voth, and in the dramatic encounters/struggles experienced by them both, is based in gender identity, it really makes sense. The philosophy behind gender identity, the individual right to feel the way you want about who you are and the ability to present that intrinsic persona to the world in whatever way you want, is something incredibly internal. The intellectual side of the writing represents that personal/inner piece. On the other hand, there is the coarse language of the London underbelly, which is all about the physical and the sexual, which is the side of gender identity that is less…pretty? And I do not mean that in regards to looks or as a judgement on the physical appearance of any gender-non-conforming person. I mean that to refer to the way gender identity is treated by society, in the way that anyone who identifies as queer, transgender, or is intersex, has always been considered “less.” And, with those last two, the obvious connection between crudity and the gross fascination of the cis- population with the body parts of transgender and/or intersex people is addressed head-on throughout the novel (and expertly handled, may I add). It’s horrifying and terrible, but it is historically (and presently) accurate. And of course, the interplay between the two, internal/academic and external/vulgar, is difficult, stress-inducing (to say the least) and otherwise, exemplary of the struggles faced daily by anyone identifying as queer. This novel tackles an incredible breadth of difficult topics and themes in a proficient and remarkable way.
I don’t know if most people read the afterwards, but this is one book where I highly recommend it. The author talks through the extensive research and work that went into this novel, both on his own and collaboratively. Particularly of note is his discussion about his goal of shining a light on the parts of history that are completely, as I mentioned earlier, cis-white-washed, and providing a history to people today that have truly never had one for themselves. I realize that’s pretty much all of history (which he mentions as well), but this novel is definitely a beautiful start at working to combat that. Although this topic comes up throughout the novel in Dr. Voth’s footnotes, the author really elaborates and connects it to “real” life in the afterward. It’s an inspiring and moving reflection and I appreciate both it, and the author’s efforts, from the bottom of my soul.
Overall, this novel is a gorgeous piece of writing. One that it is clear the author poured his all into. It’s fully realized, exceptionally thoughtful, and beyond significant. Although, as I mentioned, at times the philosophy itself got to be a bit too much for me, the action and emotion are both omnipresent enough to balance that out, and I found this book both page-turning-ly enjoyable and thoroughly educational. As the story builds to the denouement, both in the past and the present, we are left with an ending that, for both, serves as a magnificent metaphor for the joy and relief of finding a place where you belong, are accepted, and can be your true self. Everyone, EVERYONE, deserves that.
Let’s talk about how many things I highlighted while reading (SO MANY). Enjoy:
“The body does not pre-exist love, but is cast in its fires.”
“There are some things you can only see through tears.”
“There are moments that do not arise as the result of Conscious determination or thought. Such moments – far more than plann’d ones – are those that shape the course of a Life to come. Such moments alter a being in ways that plotting, synthesizing, and future-izing can never do. That is to say, a reaction to Chance is the only method for developing character.”
“They take everything from you. Even your imagination. Then and now.”
“Whatever Blur he’s lived in for every year and every moment up to this one, was lifting and sparkling into Nothingness like fog in the sun. All of Jack’s molecules were scrambled and rearranged, and something new was taking shape. Someone new. He was becoming Jack Sheppard. He was entering History.”
“And then he fell into sleep Unseen. As he did every night. Every single night, like a Pebble falling silently to the bottom of a dark Pond. Alone. Alone. Always alone.”
“Why couldn’t his own Ceiling change color, deepen, shoot through the sun? … Would the black-capped horizon of his Imagination never prism into color?”
“…would spray out of him, would fog the room with a million crimson Petals, with a wave of soft silver gunshot, with a rolling meadow of grass-green fire, heaving under them and pouring over them and it would bury them, in the best ways, together, and alive.”
“I’m editing this for us – those of us who’ve been dropped from some moonless sky to wander the world. Those of us who have to guess – wrongly over and over (until we get it right? Please god) – what a “home” might feel like. So forget the held ones just for a second, they’re doing fine; I’m speaking to you – to us – to those of us who learned at a young age never to turn around, never to look back at the nothing that’s there to catch us when we fall.”
“Sometimes – albeit rarely – but especially when one is young, Revelry is the verso face of misery and Terror.”
“She breathed life down my throat – she with the tip of her tongue, like a Hummingbird giving syrup back to the flavor – and just as some flowers open only at night, as did I open only with her tongue in my mouth.”
“None of us will be free unless all of us are free.”
“Robbers, Rebels, Lovers. Wait. Wait under waters she said. History will find us. History will avenge us all.”
“When a woman regards you with her inevitable Expression – the one that says: I’m waiting for you in the future; catch up, catch up¬ – you will liberate yourself from every pre-existing bond, body, and name you ever had. And go with her.”
“There is no trans body, no body at all – no memoir, no confessions, no singular story of “you” or anyone – outside this broad and awful legacy. So when they ask you for our story – when they want to sell it – we don’t let them forget. Slavery, surveillers, settlers and their shadows.”
“In the name of those who came before, who fought the police; those whose names we know, and those whose names we can never know. In the name of those who came after, who will never know our names –”
The first time I saw this available on NetGalley, I clicked right past it. The blurb sounded intriguing (I do love stories about the “underbelly” of society) but I try to only request from NetGalley when something truly strikes me, so that my TBR there doesn’t get too backed up. However, right after that, I saw someone rave about it on bookstagram (I need to starting writing these accounts down when they inspire me, so I can remember who to credit later). Included in that rave was a note about how it really gives voice to a hitherto marginalized voice, historically and today. Well, I’ve been trying to branch out my representation in reading…so that, combined with the original intriguing synopsis, pushed me over the edge. And here we are. Although I missed the chance to actually publish this review prior to official publication (this is why I try not to request on NatGalley too much – it’s so easy to get buried!), I hope you’ll forgive the tardiness.
Confessions of the Fox is a vibrant historical fiction centered around the life of Jack Sheppard. Sold into servitude as a child, P spends years imagining a different life. One not only of freedom from indenture, but freedom of body and identity. When P meets and falls in love with Bess, a prostitute (or doxy, in the lingo of the book), she is pulled into the London underworld, transiting into a life as Jack Sheppard, the famous goal-breaker and thief extraordinaire, the person that has always been hidden inside. Throughout the novel, Jack and Bess get into a number of scrapes and adventures together, all while illuminating history, which has long been cis-white-washed, and learning to love themselves and each other along the way. As an added layer the entire story is rife with footnotes from Dr. Voth, the contemporary academic who found this transcript and is translating for us, the reader. His notes on/additions to the text, as well as the commentary related to his personal life, provide perspective to and parallel Jack’s story a way that makes for a much more profound reading experience.
First and foremost, I need to spoiler alert that this is the most fantastically bawdy book I’ve read in some time. And that is probably an understatement. The terms for body parts, sexual acts, and more are tossed about often and colorfully. The sheer volume of them was almost mind-boggling (in a good way). At times, since things are mostly described in historical vocabulary, there were euphemisms that had me laughing out loud. So it’s a different kind of bawdy than a typical romance novel, but definitely one of the most defining pieces of the book. Moving past that surface lewdness, this was actually a phenomenally intellectual novel. In fact, for full disclosure, there were a few times that the more philosophical explorations lost me a bit. This could be as a result of me skimming them, which is a bad habit I have when reading or because I was reading this novel on a plane and was quite tired at times or just simply because these discussions were truly over my head. Regardless, the amount of research involved in writing this book was clear throughout – prodigious and impressive.
The mix of these two types of styles, academic and vulgar, might seem like an odd pairing, but it works wonderfully in this case. Since one of the main topics of the story, for Jack, for our translator Dr. Voth, and in the dramatic encounters/struggles experienced by them both, is based in gender identity, it really makes sense. The philosophy behind gender identity, the individual right to feel the way you want about who you are and the ability to present that intrinsic persona to the world in whatever way you want, is something incredibly internal. The intellectual side of the writing represents that personal/inner piece. On the other hand, there is the coarse language of the London underbelly, which is all about the physical and the sexual, which is the side of gender identity that is less…pretty? And I do not mean that in regards to looks or as a judgement on the physical appearance of any gender-non-conforming person. I mean that to refer to the way gender identity is treated by society, in the way that anyone who identifies as queer, transgender, or is intersex, has always been considered “less.” And, with those last two, the obvious connection between crudity and the gross fascination of the cis- population with the body parts of transgender and/or intersex people is addressed head-on throughout the novel (and expertly handled, may I add). It’s horrifying and terrible, but it is historically (and presently) accurate. And of course, the interplay between the two, internal/academic and external/vulgar, is difficult, stress-inducing (to say the least) and otherwise, exemplary of the struggles faced daily by anyone identifying as queer. This novel tackles an incredible breadth of difficult topics and themes in a proficient and remarkable way.
I don’t know if most people read the afterwards, but this is one book where I highly recommend it. The author talks through the extensive research and work that went into this novel, both on his own and collaboratively. Particularly of note is his discussion about his goal of shining a light on the parts of history that are completely, as I mentioned earlier, cis-white-washed, and providing a history to people today that have truly never had one for themselves. I realize that’s pretty much all of history (which he mentions as well), but this novel is definitely a beautiful start at working to combat that. Although this topic comes up throughout the novel in Dr. Voth’s footnotes, the author really elaborates and connects it to “real” life in the afterward. It’s an inspiring and moving reflection and I appreciate both it, and the author’s efforts, from the bottom of my soul.
Overall, this novel is a gorgeous piece of writing. One that it is clear the author poured his all into. It’s fully realized, exceptionally thoughtful, and beyond significant. Although, as I mentioned, at times the philosophy itself got to be a bit too much for me, the action and emotion are both omnipresent enough to balance that out, and I found this book both page-turning-ly enjoyable and thoroughly educational. As the story builds to the denouement, both in the past and the present, we are left with an ending that, for both, serves as a magnificent metaphor for the joy and relief of finding a place where you belong, are accepted, and can be your true self. Everyone, EVERYONE, deserves that.
Let’s talk about how many things I highlighted while reading (SO MANY). Enjoy:
“The body does not pre-exist love, but is cast in its fires.”
“There are some things you can only see through tears.”
“There are moments that do not arise as the result of Conscious determination or thought. Such moments – far more than plann’d ones – are those that shape the course of a Life to come. Such moments alter a being in ways that plotting, synthesizing, and future-izing can never do. That is to say, a reaction to Chance is the only method for developing character.”
“They take everything from you. Even your imagination. Then and now.”
“Whatever Blur he’s lived in for every year and every moment up to this one, was lifting and sparkling into Nothingness like fog in the sun. All of Jack’s molecules were scrambled and rearranged, and something new was taking shape. Someone new. He was becoming Jack Sheppard. He was entering History.”
“And then he fell into sleep Unseen. As he did every night. Every single night, like a Pebble falling silently to the bottom of a dark Pond. Alone. Alone. Always alone.”
“Why couldn’t his own Ceiling change color, deepen, shoot through the sun? … Would the black-capped horizon of his Imagination never prism into color?”
“…would spray out of him, would fog the room with a million crimson Petals, with a wave of soft silver gunshot, with a rolling meadow of grass-green fire, heaving under them and pouring over them and it would bury them, in the best ways, together, and alive.”
“I’m editing this for us – those of us who’ve been dropped from some moonless sky to wander the world. Those of us who have to guess – wrongly over and over (until we get it right? Please god) – what a “home” might feel like. So forget the held ones just for a second, they’re doing fine; I’m speaking to you – to us – to those of us who learned at a young age never to turn around, never to look back at the nothing that’s there to catch us when we fall.”
“Sometimes – albeit rarely – but especially when one is young, Revelry is the verso face of misery and Terror.”
“She breathed life down my throat – she with the tip of her tongue, like a Hummingbird giving syrup back to the flavor – and just as some flowers open only at night, as did I open only with her tongue in my mouth.”
“None of us will be free unless all of us are free.”
“Robbers, Rebels, Lovers. Wait. Wait under waters she said. History will find us. History will avenge us all.”
“When a woman regards you with her inevitable Expression – the one that says: I’m waiting for you in the future; catch up, catch up¬ – you will liberate yourself from every pre-existing bond, body, and name you ever had. And go with her.”
“There is no trans body, no body at all – no memoir, no confessions, no singular story of “you” or anyone – outside this broad and awful legacy. So when they ask you for our story – when they want to sell it – we don’t let them forget. Slavery, surveillers, settlers and their shadows.”
“In the name of those who came before, who fought the police; those whose names we know, and those whose names we can never know. In the name of those who came after, who will never know our names –”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.”
I’ve had this book on my TBR for some time, and had heard nothing but great reviews of it. Then, about two weeks after I found it at used bookstore (and decided to grab it), it was chosen as the June book for long distance book club. Sometimes, timing is everything.
So, this book is the story of Noah and Jude, twins living somewhere in the sunny part of California with their parents. The book opens with Noah telling the story, at about 13 years old. And moving from there, the POV switches back and forth between the twins, from “young” Noah to Jude at 16 years old. In between the two times, their mother died, their once super-duper close relationship has dissolved, and they’ve sort of switched personalities (Noah turning from an artsy, whimsical kid to a “regular” high schooler on the track team, while Jude went from the popular girl to a weird, reserved/obsessive personality). As the story develops, Noah’s “past” narration nears the point that everything broke, while Jude “present” narration brings us closer to the point where the consequences of all the secrets and miscommunications come to a head.
There was so much to love about this book. In fact, there was almost everything to love. First, let me just talk about the language. It. Was. Perfect. This is a story centered around art, artists and artistic impulses (particularly ecstatic ones). And the language matched that feel spot on – a mix of word choice precision and fantasticalness that was measured and fanciful and measured in a juxtaposition primed to elicit the most emotion possible in the reader. In addition, I just loved the dialogue. I particularly loved the back and forth between Jude and Oscar, after they meet, but really all the interactions are quick and smart and very realistic. Good dialogue is one of my make or break points in reviewing books, especially in YA, but Nelson nails it. Relatedly, I love all the little tics of the characters and how, once introduced, they were flawlessly woven into the rest of the writing. For example, Noah’s titling of self-portraits to illustrate how he’s feeling and Jude’s quoting of her grandmother’s sayings in reaction to most situations. I also loved the little quirks like Noah’s description of how people like his mother seemed to have “blown in” from somewhere else or Jude’s euphemism of “missing buttons” to describe someone crazy. Just…so many unique little details that really brought life to the characters and the story.
As for the story itself, it was so intricately brought together. I read somewhere that the author spent a long time writing this book, and I believe it. The reveals are spaced and detailed just right to provide the reader that desired combination of assuaging and growing curiosity, keeping us on the edges of our seat as we get closer and closer to the final confrontation(s). This happens simultaneously with some superb character development, across the board. And even though there are some, like the dad, that I still would have liked to know more about, I think this has one of the most developed full sets of characters, even the side ones, that I’ve ever read in a YA standalone. And although this is one of those books that I do not recommend reading the end of in public (I had a really hard time not crying everywhere in the coffee shop I was in), that doesn’t mean all the emotion was reserved for the end. There was anger and fear and love and also definitely some hot and bothered-ness coming at all throughout the novel. Honestly, this story was straight chock full of emotions, all the emotions, the good and the bad, in just the way real life is, no sugar coating or holding back. And then at the end, when we finally see everyone after un-shouldering the burdens of their secrets and misconceptions, the relief and readiness to finally move on/find joy is just…palpable. As Grandma Sweetwine would have said, a broken heart is an open heart. And this book ends with so many open hearts.
Throughout this novel, I was so unbelievably invested in all the relationships in the story, especially Jude and Noah’s – both with each other and with their special someone’s. And though perhaps some of the secrets/malicious actions are beyond what I can imagine having perpetrated, and perhaps the general goodwill at the end of the book, even after all the malintent from earlier, might seem a little too farfetched/cheesy to some, it’s also reasonably understandable within the personalities of the characters. We saw where they started, we were shown over the course of the story how the artistic impulse is both beautiful and burdensome, and we watched as everyone grew/changed to get to that point over the course of the novel.
For me, this novel really hit at the core of what it means to be human, what matters and what doesn’t. This is such a powerful tale of grief and art and family and acceptance and love and destiny. I heartily recommend it.
As I mentioned, the language was everything in this book, so you can imagine, I’m sure, how hard it was to pare down the passages I wanted to share. Enjoy this, likely overwhelming, selection:
“We wish with our hands, that’s what we do as artists.”
“I didn’t know you could get buried in your own silence.”
“…but lots of things are possible and extremely unlikely, like world peace and summer snowstorms and blue dandelions and what I think happened on the roof last night.”
“Reality is crushing. The world is a wrong-sized shoe. How can anyone stand it?”
“I’ve tried everything… Absolutely everything. I have this weird book and I scour it nonstop. I’ve done it all. I’ve slept with her jewelry under my pillow. I’ve stood on the beach at midnight, holding up a picture of the two of us to a blue moon. I’ve written letters to her and put them in her coat pockets, in red mailboxes. I’ve thrown messages into storms. I recite her favorite poem to her every night before I go to bed. All she does is break what I make. That’s how angry she is.”
“No woman can resist a man who has tidal waves and earthquakes beneath the skin.”
“I close my eyes and drown in color, open them and drown in light because billions and billions of buckets of light are being emptied on our heads from above.”
“I lean back out again into the night. ‘I gave up practically the whole world for you,’ I tell him, walking through the front door my own love story. ‘The sun, stars, ocean, trees, everything, I gave it all up for you.’”
“So Plato talked about these beings that used to exist that had four legs and four arms and two heads. They were totally self-contained and ecstatic and powerful. Too powerful, so Zeus cut them all in half and scattered all the halves around the world so that humans were doomed to forever look for their other half, the one who shared their very soul. Only the luckiest humans find their split-apart, you see.”
“‘Or maybe a person is just made up of a lot of people… Maybe we’re accumulating these new selves all the time.’ Hauling them in as we make choices, god and bad, as we crew up, step up, lose our minds, find our minds, fall apart, fall in love, as we grieve, grow, retreat from the world, dive into the world, as we make things, as we break things.”
“Love does as it undoes. It goes after, with equal tenacity: joy and heartbreak.”
“Quick, make a wish. Take a (second or third or fourth) chance. Remake the world.”
“We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.”
I’ve had this book on my TBR for some time, and had heard nothing but great reviews of it. Then, about two weeks after I found it at used bookstore (and decided to grab it), it was chosen as the June book for long distance book club. Sometimes, timing is everything.
So, this book is the story of Noah and Jude, twins living somewhere in the sunny part of California with their parents. The book opens with Noah telling the story, at about 13 years old. And moving from there, the POV switches back and forth between the twins, from “young” Noah to Jude at 16 years old. In between the two times, their mother died, their once super-duper close relationship has dissolved, and they’ve sort of switched personalities (Noah turning from an artsy, whimsical kid to a “regular” high schooler on the track team, while Jude went from the popular girl to a weird, reserved/obsessive personality). As the story develops, Noah’s “past” narration nears the point that everything broke, while Jude “present” narration brings us closer to the point where the consequences of all the secrets and miscommunications come to a head.
There was so much to love about this book. In fact, there was almost everything to love. First, let me just talk about the language. It. Was. Perfect. This is a story centered around art, artists and artistic impulses (particularly ecstatic ones). And the language matched that feel spot on – a mix of word choice precision and fantasticalness that was measured and fanciful and measured in a juxtaposition primed to elicit the most emotion possible in the reader. In addition, I just loved the dialogue. I particularly loved the back and forth between Jude and Oscar, after they meet, but really all the interactions are quick and smart and very realistic. Good dialogue is one of my make or break points in reviewing books, especially in YA, but Nelson nails it. Relatedly, I love all the little tics of the characters and how, once introduced, they were flawlessly woven into the rest of the writing. For example, Noah’s titling of self-portraits to illustrate how he’s feeling and Jude’s quoting of her grandmother’s sayings in reaction to most situations. I also loved the little quirks like Noah’s description of how people like his mother seemed to have “blown in” from somewhere else or Jude’s euphemism of “missing buttons” to describe someone crazy. Just…so many unique little details that really brought life to the characters and the story.
As for the story itself, it was so intricately brought together. I read somewhere that the author spent a long time writing this book, and I believe it. The reveals are spaced and detailed just right to provide the reader that desired combination of assuaging and growing curiosity, keeping us on the edges of our seat as we get closer and closer to the final confrontation(s). This happens simultaneously with some superb character development, across the board. And even though there are some, like the dad, that I still would have liked to know more about, I think this has one of the most developed full sets of characters, even the side ones, that I’ve ever read in a YA standalone. And although this is one of those books that I do not recommend reading the end of in public (I had a really hard time not crying everywhere in the coffee shop I was in), that doesn’t mean all the emotion was reserved for the end. There was anger and fear and love and also definitely some hot and bothered-ness coming at all throughout the novel. Honestly, this story was straight chock full of emotions, all the emotions, the good and the bad, in just the way real life is, no sugar coating or holding back. And then at the end, when we finally see everyone after un-shouldering the burdens of their secrets and misconceptions, the relief and readiness to finally move on/find joy is just…palpable. As Grandma Sweetwine would have said, a broken heart is an open heart. And this book ends with so many open hearts.
Throughout this novel, I was so unbelievably invested in all the relationships in the story, especially Jude and Noah’s – both with each other and with their special someone’s. And though perhaps some of the secrets/malicious actions are beyond what I can imagine having perpetrated, and perhaps the general goodwill at the end of the book, even after all the malintent from earlier, might seem a little too farfetched/cheesy to some, it’s also reasonably understandable within the personalities of the characters. We saw where they started, we were shown over the course of the story how the artistic impulse is both beautiful and burdensome, and we watched as everyone grew/changed to get to that point over the course of the novel.
For me, this novel really hit at the core of what it means to be human, what matters and what doesn’t. This is such a powerful tale of grief and art and family and acceptance and love and destiny. I heartily recommend it.
As I mentioned, the language was everything in this book, so you can imagine, I’m sure, how hard it was to pare down the passages I wanted to share. Enjoy this, likely overwhelming, selection:
“We wish with our hands, that’s what we do as artists.”
“I didn’t know you could get buried in your own silence.”
“…but lots of things are possible and extremely unlikely, like world peace and summer snowstorms and blue dandelions and what I think happened on the roof last night.”
“Reality is crushing. The world is a wrong-sized shoe. How can anyone stand it?”
“I’ve tried everything… Absolutely everything. I have this weird book and I scour it nonstop. I’ve done it all. I’ve slept with her jewelry under my pillow. I’ve stood on the beach at midnight, holding up a picture of the two of us to a blue moon. I’ve written letters to her and put them in her coat pockets, in red mailboxes. I’ve thrown messages into storms. I recite her favorite poem to her every night before I go to bed. All she does is break what I make. That’s how angry she is.”
“No woman can resist a man who has tidal waves and earthquakes beneath the skin.”
“I close my eyes and drown in color, open them and drown in light because billions and billions of buckets of light are being emptied on our heads from above.”
“I lean back out again into the night. ‘I gave up practically the whole world for you,’ I tell him, walking through the front door my own love story. ‘The sun, stars, ocean, trees, everything, I gave it all up for you.’”
“So Plato talked about these beings that used to exist that had four legs and four arms and two heads. They were totally self-contained and ecstatic and powerful. Too powerful, so Zeus cut them all in half and scattered all the halves around the world so that humans were doomed to forever look for their other half, the one who shared their very soul. Only the luckiest humans find their split-apart, you see.”
“‘Or maybe a person is just made up of a lot of people… Maybe we’re accumulating these new selves all the time.’ Hauling them in as we make choices, god and bad, as we crew up, step up, lose our minds, find our minds, fall apart, fall in love, as we grieve, grow, retreat from the world, dive into the world, as we make things, as we break things.”
“Love does as it undoes. It goes after, with equal tenacity: joy and heartbreak.”
“Quick, make a wish. Take a (second or third or fourth) chance. Remake the world.”
This was the August book that my long-distance book club chose. The theme we based our choice on, in the spirit of back to school, was “books that are on high school book lists that you never read.” And to be perfectly transparent, I was not overly into reading this one. When it won the vote, I went into it with the least excitement I have had for a book with this club so far. But that’s part of the charm of book clubs, right? To get to you try books that you wouldn’t necessarily pick up on your own.
Into the Wild is a nonfiction account of the life of Chris McCandless, who, at 22 years old, gave away his savings, abandoned his family and belongings, and set off into the world to create a new person of himself. This book uses a variety of sources, including interviews with people who he’d crossed paths with, letters he wrote to friends/family, and excerpts from journals he kept during his travels, to piece together what drove/inspired him to make that decision, the two years of his life on the road, and the last months of his life in the Alaskan wilderness…before he died of starvation.
To start, I need to give a couple caveats to this review. One, I am not really into nature writing. A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson was probably the least favorite book I read in high school (by a long shot) and I never understood what the big deal was with Thoreau (like seriously, he just came across as a mooch who tried to escape life/responsibility and couched it as “self-discovery” and “nature philosophy”). So I am fairly pre-disposed to not sympathize with McCandless, who idolized and imitated Thoreau, and to judge this book harshly as a nature-writing piece. Just…personal background to give you an idea where I’m starting from.
“It is impossible to know what murky convergence of chromosomal matter, parent-child dynamics, and alignment of the cosmos was responsible…”
However, all that being said, and all my misgivings about the book from the start, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by this reading experience. It was a quick read, which helped, and I did skim though a number of the longer descriptions of nature. (This makes me feel bad to say…I don’t hate nature, I would just rather go for a walk in it than read about it. And I’ve never been into extreme outdoor activities, so I just don’t have the mindset to understand the call of climbing mountains and living off land that could kill you at any second.) Krakauer is clearly a skilled writer and his own love of nature and experience with researching and writing nonfiction accounts in a clear and engaging way comes through strongly. I liked the weaving in and out of the story in a non-temporally-linear fashion. It kept things more interesting to jump back and forth between McCandless’ past, his family’s histories, his travels preceding the doomed Alaskan adventure and the Alaska time itself. I also like how even-keeled the story was. I felt that Krakauer did a great job presenting both a defense of McCandless as an inexperienced youth and a reasonable critique of some of his greatest fails/delusions. This was particularly well done when compared to others with similar tales, including his own personal one. He noted that some of the differences came down to luck – that he survived and McCandless didn’t is not proof that either was better or worse prepared, it just proves that nature is fickle and unpredictable. And no one would be knocking McCandless’ decisions if he hadn’t died. But at the same time, he does list through the lack of preparations that, had he taken, might have saved McCandless’ life.
“It is easy, when you are young, to believe that what you desire is no less than what you deserve…”
I can also see why this is a story that is assigned to high schoolers. There is a clear and easy discussion evoked by McCandless’ life about the perceived invincibility of the young. The fact that he had survived difficult and dangerous situations in the past should not have served as conclusive proof that he could do so again. And though he did do a good amount of preparation prior to setting out in Alaska, there was still much more that he overlooked or dismissed out of hubris. Someone commented to me that when they read this in high school, they remember the group being split between being sorry for McCandless and thinking he achieved exactly what he set out to. Honestly, that’s fascinating to me because neither of those are what I would have said (or would still say). I really cannot fathom the amount of self-involvement that would lead to something like this – abandoning family and friends completely, with little to no communication shows, to me, such a lack of respect for those people that helped him along the way. From his parents to the people that provided for him in his travels (which essentially amounts to him being a mooch - hello Thoreau). I feel like you can easily explore/commune with nature, live removed from people, etc. but do so in a way that is not so…privileged. So many people would give anything to have what he left behind, and though I’m not saying that’s a reason to stay in a situation that doesn’t make you happy, I just think there are so many better ways to handle it. Plus, so much of what others gave him came from the fact that he appeared clean cut and was intelligent (despite all the clear judgement/condescension that he spit out at everyone who didn’t live as he felt we all should – o hypocritical, because the ability to choose one’s own path in life is exactly what caused him to rail against his family/life in the first place). But I guess that’s me saying this as a mostly adjusted almost-30-year-old…perhaps I would have felt differently as an impulsive young adult, whose brain was still developing. Also, just based on reading this, McCandless’ extreme views, black and white opinions, and up and down attitudes and need for aloneness/companionship really scream “he could have used a therapist/counselor” and where were his parents/teachers? He could really have used guidance in regards to healthier coping mechanisms and a chance to talk through some of his feelings about his family.
Anyways, that mostly is just me railing about the McCandless’ decisions and story, which obviously is true and unchangeable. And I guess is not really a fair way to judge the book itself. So to end, I’ll get back to that actual point. Despite my skepticism of this book, and my clear judgement of McCandless, Krakauer wrote this tale in such a way that I was much more engrossed than I had planned on/wanted to be. So credit where credit is due. If you are into nature writing, natural philosophy (or really any kind of philosophical introspection), self-discovery or real life “mysteries” I think this would be a great book choice. If you aren’t – it’s still not a bad read. And I would definitely pay a little to be a fly on a wall in a high school classroom while students discussed this novel – I’d love to hear their actual thoughts and see how their POVs differ from mine.
Into the Wild is a nonfiction account of the life of Chris McCandless, who, at 22 years old, gave away his savings, abandoned his family and belongings, and set off into the world to create a new person of himself. This book uses a variety of sources, including interviews with people who he’d crossed paths with, letters he wrote to friends/family, and excerpts from journals he kept during his travels, to piece together what drove/inspired him to make that decision, the two years of his life on the road, and the last months of his life in the Alaskan wilderness…before he died of starvation.
To start, I need to give a couple caveats to this review. One, I am not really into nature writing. A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson was probably the least favorite book I read in high school (by a long shot) and I never understood what the big deal was with Thoreau (like seriously, he just came across as a mooch who tried to escape life/responsibility and couched it as “self-discovery” and “nature philosophy”). So I am fairly pre-disposed to not sympathize with McCandless, who idolized and imitated Thoreau, and to judge this book harshly as a nature-writing piece. Just…personal background to give you an idea where I’m starting from.
“It is impossible to know what murky convergence of chromosomal matter, parent-child dynamics, and alignment of the cosmos was responsible…”
However, all that being said, and all my misgivings about the book from the start, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised by this reading experience. It was a quick read, which helped, and I did skim though a number of the longer descriptions of nature. (This makes me feel bad to say…I don’t hate nature, I would just rather go for a walk in it than read about it. And I’ve never been into extreme outdoor activities, so I just don’t have the mindset to understand the call of climbing mountains and living off land that could kill you at any second.) Krakauer is clearly a skilled writer and his own love of nature and experience with researching and writing nonfiction accounts in a clear and engaging way comes through strongly. I liked the weaving in and out of the story in a non-temporally-linear fashion. It kept things more interesting to jump back and forth between McCandless’ past, his family’s histories, his travels preceding the doomed Alaskan adventure and the Alaska time itself. I also like how even-keeled the story was. I felt that Krakauer did a great job presenting both a defense of McCandless as an inexperienced youth and a reasonable critique of some of his greatest fails/delusions. This was particularly well done when compared to others with similar tales, including his own personal one. He noted that some of the differences came down to luck – that he survived and McCandless didn’t is not proof that either was better or worse prepared, it just proves that nature is fickle and unpredictable. And no one would be knocking McCandless’ decisions if he hadn’t died. But at the same time, he does list through the lack of preparations that, had he taken, might have saved McCandless’ life.
“It is easy, when you are young, to believe that what you desire is no less than what you deserve…”
I can also see why this is a story that is assigned to high schoolers. There is a clear and easy discussion evoked by McCandless’ life about the perceived invincibility of the young. The fact that he had survived difficult and dangerous situations in the past should not have served as conclusive proof that he could do so again. And though he did do a good amount of preparation prior to setting out in Alaska, there was still much more that he overlooked or dismissed out of hubris. Someone commented to me that when they read this in high school, they remember the group being split between being sorry for McCandless and thinking he achieved exactly what he set out to. Honestly, that’s fascinating to me because neither of those are what I would have said (or would still say). I really cannot fathom the amount of self-involvement that would lead to something like this – abandoning family and friends completely, with little to no communication shows, to me, such a lack of respect for those people that helped him along the way. From his parents to the people that provided for him in his travels (which essentially amounts to him being a mooch - hello Thoreau). I feel like you can easily explore/commune with nature, live removed from people, etc. but do so in a way that is not so…privileged. So many people would give anything to have what he left behind, and though I’m not saying that’s a reason to stay in a situation that doesn’t make you happy, I just think there are so many better ways to handle it. Plus, so much of what others gave him came from the fact that he appeared clean cut and was intelligent (despite all the clear judgement/condescension that he spit out at everyone who didn’t live as he felt we all should – o hypocritical, because the ability to choose one’s own path in life is exactly what caused him to rail against his family/life in the first place). But I guess that’s me saying this as a mostly adjusted almost-30-year-old…perhaps I would have felt differently as an impulsive young adult, whose brain was still developing. Also, just based on reading this, McCandless’ extreme views, black and white opinions, and up and down attitudes and need for aloneness/companionship really scream “he could have used a therapist/counselor” and where were his parents/teachers? He could really have used guidance in regards to healthier coping mechanisms and a chance to talk through some of his feelings about his family.
Anyways, that mostly is just me railing about the McCandless’ decisions and story, which obviously is true and unchangeable. And I guess is not really a fair way to judge the book itself. So to end, I’ll get back to that actual point. Despite my skepticism of this book, and my clear judgement of McCandless, Krakauer wrote this tale in such a way that I was much more engrossed than I had planned on/wanted to be. So credit where credit is due. If you are into nature writing, natural philosophy (or really any kind of philosophical introspection), self-discovery or real life “mysteries” I think this would be a great book choice. If you aren’t – it’s still not a bad read. And I would definitely pay a little to be a fly on a wall in a high school classroom while students discussed this novel – I’d love to hear their actual thoughts and see how their POVs differ from mine.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“The ones we love…are enemies of the state.” – Sophocles, Antigone
This one has been on my TBR for a little while now. I’ve seen great reviews and had it personally recommended, but of course (as things go) it took something else to tip the scale for me. That tip came when it won this year’s Women’s Prize for Fiction. I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. Especially since last year’s winner, The Power by Naomi Alderman, was one of my favorite reads of the past year.
This is, primarily, the story of the Pasha family: Isma and her younger twin siblings, Parvaiz and Aneeka. But it’s also about another family, that of Eamonn, and how they become inextricably intertwined. The Pasha’s father was a known jihadist, and that history impacts them each in a different way. After their mother’s death, Isma is surprised and thrilled to learn that she is approved to travel from England to the US to study for her PhD, even though it means leaving her little sister alone (truly alone, because their brother “abandoned” them both to chase dreams of a missing father a year before.) During her time in New England, Isma meets Eamonn, which sets in motion an unexpected journey for him – meeting and developing a relationship with her sister Aneeka that leads him to question much of what his father, a rising political figure, has taught and represented for years. At the same time Aneeka begins her relationship with Eamonn with very different goals than where it ends up. And during this time, Parvaiz travels his own path of self-discovery and disillusion that proves a greater risk than he had anticipated.
Let me just start by saying that this book lived up to the hype. First, I had no idea that it was a contemporary retelling of the classic play Antigone. I’m actually glad that I didn’t know, because it allowed me to enter the story with no expectations (plot-wise) and gave me the chance to be emotionally blind-sided where necessary (which, although it was harder to read that way, definitely allowed the story to pack a greater punch). But looking back, seeing that the book is told in five sections, with five different narrators and in five different locations, reminiscent of the five acts of the original play, adds a lot of depth to the style and development of the story. This change of POV and location also allowed for an unveiling (unraveling?) of the plot and characters’ lives in a beautifully paced fashion. Showing us major events in each characters’ life through both their own eyes and the eyes of those close to them was a full-dimensional and fascinating way to create depth for each of them. I also really liked that they each got one say, one moment, and then we never got to come back to them, so you had to extrapolate their feelings and emotions based on what you learned from being in their mind earlier, and of course from their fellow characters’ POVs, which was very immersing. And overall, the writing was just so lovely and expressive. Throughout the book, as it changes for each character, and the tone and inflection change along with it, the writing keeps up perfectly without managing to lose any of it’s flow or sensitivity.
I don’t want to give any spoilers, because the emotional hit is what makes this story great. But I do want to share a few main thoughts/reactions. First, Parvaiz is just such a sad character. Denied a real father (both physically, by his father’s death, and emotionally, by his family’s refusal to acknowledge or talk about him), he wants nothing more than a paternal figure in his life. And that vulnerability allows him to be taken advantage of to an extent that makes your heart cry. And the ramifications for himself and his family and special to people of his circumstances…meaning that this book highlights the way that people of color cannot make youthful growth/error in the same way that others can, because they are given so much less leeway and their consequences are so much greater. To that end, and not to coopt a movement (but just to give you an idea of the theming) I feel like that book is like an Islamic take on #blacklivesmatter – showing the differences in interpretations of actions and decisions that come with being part of a “feared” minority community (how much harsher, unforgiving, judgements are, along with the extremes to which people go to avoid being “lumped in” with the “bad” elements of your “people.”) However, no matter how sad Parvaiz’s story is or how hard-hitting Aneeka’s pain is, my heart belongs to Isma here. Her story – what she loses and how she loses it, over and over, is the real tragedy of this book of tragedies. She is sort of the “unsung hero” in this way, but not in a way you’d ever want to be. Oh my soul. And last, THAT ENDING. Holy goodness I didn’t see it coming at all and it hit like an ton of emotional bricks. It’s so poignantly profound and heart-wrenchingly painful at the same time. I can’t even find the words for it. Just…UGH.
I actually, because life, finished this book over two weeks ago an am just now getting around to writing the review. (I say that because if I am not able to expertly craft my feelings in this review the way that I normally can – just go with that self-pat-on-the-shoulder – I’m sorry). But bottom line, I loved it. It was a beautiful exploration of a family (families) struggling to find their meaning in a world that doesn’t always (often doesn’t) accept them at face value. And it hits all the misfortune buttons (pain, grief, loss, abandonment, heartache) in a way that is horrifyingly believable. Just a wonderful page-turning work of tragic contemporary literary fiction.
“…only the older sister’s steady heartbeat could teach the younger one’s frantic heart how to quiet, until there was no sound except their breath in unison, the universe still around them.”
“There was a lightness inside her, entirely new, that made the whole world rearrange itself into a place of undreamt-of possibilities.”
“Everything else you can live around, but not death. Death you have to live through.”
“…grief was bad-tempered, grief was kind; grief saw nothing but itself, grief saw every speck of pain in the world; grief spread its wings large like an eagle, grief huddled small like a porcupine; grief needed company, grief craved solitude; grief wanted to remember, wanted to forget; grief raged, grief whimpered; grief made time compress and contract; grief tasted like hunger, felt like numbness, sounded like silence; grief tasted like bile, felt like blades, sounded like all the noise of the world. Grief was a shape-shifter, and invisible too; grief could be captured as reflection in a twin’s eye. Grief heard its death sentence the morning you both woke up and one was singing and the other caught the song.”
“The ones we love…are enemies of the state.” – Sophocles, Antigone
This one has been on my TBR for a little while now. I’ve seen great reviews and had it personally recommended, but of course (as things go) it took something else to tip the scale for me. That tip came when it won this year’s Women’s Prize for Fiction. I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. Especially since last year’s winner, The Power by Naomi Alderman, was one of my favorite reads of the past year.
This is, primarily, the story of the Pasha family: Isma and her younger twin siblings, Parvaiz and Aneeka. But it’s also about another family, that of Eamonn, and how they become inextricably intertwined. The Pasha’s father was a known jihadist, and that history impacts them each in a different way. After their mother’s death, Isma is surprised and thrilled to learn that she is approved to travel from England to the US to study for her PhD, even though it means leaving her little sister alone (truly alone, because their brother “abandoned” them both to chase dreams of a missing father a year before.) During her time in New England, Isma meets Eamonn, which sets in motion an unexpected journey for him – meeting and developing a relationship with her sister Aneeka that leads him to question much of what his father, a rising political figure, has taught and represented for years. At the same time Aneeka begins her relationship with Eamonn with very different goals than where it ends up. And during this time, Parvaiz travels his own path of self-discovery and disillusion that proves a greater risk than he had anticipated.
Let me just start by saying that this book lived up to the hype. First, I had no idea that it was a contemporary retelling of the classic play Antigone. I’m actually glad that I didn’t know, because it allowed me to enter the story with no expectations (plot-wise) and gave me the chance to be emotionally blind-sided where necessary (which, although it was harder to read that way, definitely allowed the story to pack a greater punch). But looking back, seeing that the book is told in five sections, with five different narrators and in five different locations, reminiscent of the five acts of the original play, adds a lot of depth to the style and development of the story. This change of POV and location also allowed for an unveiling (unraveling?) of the plot and characters’ lives in a beautifully paced fashion. Showing us major events in each characters’ life through both their own eyes and the eyes of those close to them was a full-dimensional and fascinating way to create depth for each of them. I also really liked that they each got one say, one moment, and then we never got to come back to them, so you had to extrapolate their feelings and emotions based on what you learned from being in their mind earlier, and of course from their fellow characters’ POVs, which was very immersing. And overall, the writing was just so lovely and expressive. Throughout the book, as it changes for each character, and the tone and inflection change along with it, the writing keeps up perfectly without managing to lose any of it’s flow or sensitivity.
I don’t want to give any spoilers, because the emotional hit is what makes this story great. But I do want to share a few main thoughts/reactions. First, Parvaiz is just such a sad character. Denied a real father (both physically, by his father’s death, and emotionally, by his family’s refusal to acknowledge or talk about him), he wants nothing more than a paternal figure in his life. And that vulnerability allows him to be taken advantage of to an extent that makes your heart cry. And the ramifications for himself and his family and special to people of his circumstances…meaning that this book highlights the way that people of color cannot make youthful growth/error in the same way that others can, because they are given so much less leeway and their consequences are so much greater. To that end, and not to coopt a movement (but just to give you an idea of the theming) I feel like that book is like an Islamic take on #blacklivesmatter – showing the differences in interpretations of actions and decisions that come with being part of a “feared” minority community (how much harsher, unforgiving, judgements are, along with the extremes to which people go to avoid being “lumped in” with the “bad” elements of your “people.”) However, no matter how sad Parvaiz’s story is or how hard-hitting Aneeka’s pain is, my heart belongs to Isma here. Her story – what she loses and how she loses it, over and over, is the real tragedy of this book of tragedies. She is sort of the “unsung hero” in this way, but not in a way you’d ever want to be. Oh my soul. And last, THAT ENDING. Holy goodness I didn’t see it coming at all and it hit like an ton of emotional bricks. It’s so poignantly profound and heart-wrenchingly painful at the same time. I can’t even find the words for it. Just…UGH.
I actually, because life, finished this book over two weeks ago an am just now getting around to writing the review. (I say that because if I am not able to expertly craft my feelings in this review the way that I normally can – just go with that self-pat-on-the-shoulder – I’m sorry). But bottom line, I loved it. It was a beautiful exploration of a family (families) struggling to find their meaning in a world that doesn’t always (often doesn’t) accept them at face value. And it hits all the misfortune buttons (pain, grief, loss, abandonment, heartache) in a way that is horrifyingly believable. Just a wonderful page-turning work of tragic contemporary literary fiction.
“…only the older sister’s steady heartbeat could teach the younger one’s frantic heart how to quiet, until there was no sound except their breath in unison, the universe still around them.”
“There was a lightness inside her, entirely new, that made the whole world rearrange itself into a place of undreamt-of possibilities.”
“Everything else you can live around, but not death. Death you have to live through.”
“…grief was bad-tempered, grief was kind; grief saw nothing but itself, grief saw every speck of pain in the world; grief spread its wings large like an eagle, grief huddled small like a porcupine; grief needed company, grief craved solitude; grief wanted to remember, wanted to forget; grief raged, grief whimpered; grief made time compress and contract; grief tasted like hunger, felt like numbness, sounded like silence; grief tasted like bile, felt like blades, sounded like all the noise of the world. Grief was a shape-shifter, and invisible too; grief could be captured as reflection in a twin’s eye. Grief heard its death sentence the morning you both woke up and one was singing and the other caught the song.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“I stood looking over my damaged home and tried to forget the sweetness of life on Earth.”
“Survival is insufficient.”
This one has been on my list longer than I care to admit, considering that I just now have gotten around to it. And I mean, it’s not like I’m not reading books as fast as possible over here, but I still have to say, I regret it taking so long to get to this one. It’s been hyped for years, like not just the “exciting new release and then we forget about it a month later” hype, so perhaps I should have known. But regardless, I am here to tell you that it lives up to the hype.
Station Eleven is pretty much an apocalypse story. But in the most high-literature-possible way. It centers around Kirsten Raymonde, originally from Toronto, but now a permanent member of the Traveling Symphony (and also acting troupe) traveling around the area that used to be the northern mid-west states in the US…before the Georgian Flu epidemic that wiped out something like 99% of the Earth’s population. When the Symphony arrives in the “town” St. Deborah by the Water, they cross paths with a violent “prophet” who threatens the peaceful existence of the troupe. As the story progresses, we follow a few main characters between past and present, watching the unfolding of their pre-flu lives, the unraveling of the world post-epidemic, and the slow rebuild since then, all bringing us towards the story’s conclusion, where were learn how each of these stories are intertwined with each other.
For all that this is, very clearly, an “end of the world” story, it is also a fictional and literary masterpiece. And I have to say, that’s a mix of descriptions that I can’t say I’ve ever read or experienced like this before. I mean, I have a ton of favorite scifi/fantasy, that are awesome and well-written and stunningly beautiful, but none that, while reading, I felt like I could legit classify as “classic” lit at the same time as apocalyptic. Fascinating. Since I started with that, I’ll segue into talking about the writing itself. Bottom line, it’s gorgeous. The precision of language and exquisiteness of each turn of phrase is so finely crafted, on par with such favorites as Madeleine Miller’s Circe or Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake(in fact, this was very reminiscent of Oryx and Crake, but definitely not in a way that is too similar, just in the way that, if you liked that, you will definitely be into this book). It’s just wonderfully vivid and evocative - this book is all about feels and atmosphere and the writing delivers.
As far as the plot is concerned, the interplay of connections and references among times/characters/stories is done with a subtlety and finesse that makes you almost proud when you recognize them. And the changes in narration between past and present, the switches in focal point from one character to another, are done in perfect timing to reveal small, meaningful connections among them, but without giving too much away too quickly. This deliberate pace in the unfolding of the plot and connections plays in perfect juxtaposition with the speed of the collapse of the world. Honestly, this look at the end of the world through small details – a paperweight, a self-published comic book series, a quarantined plane, small tattoos of knives on a wrist – that would be completely overlooked by most, provides a definite intimacy and familiarity to a story that is normally approached from a large-scale, impersonal, point of view. It gives the reader a chance to look closely at the humanity behind a collapse like this, and the progression of reactions in a myriad of situations, instead of brushing past that piece and jumping into the dystopia afterwards. I love how realistic this is, that limited scope of each story/POV, because one would only know their own story/experience (and sometimes not even that) in a world that has lost all recognizability. And I love that it allows the reader to see that, even at the end of the world, the small things that make life matter are no different than they are now – it’s a very compelling message.
I finished this book almost surprised to have read such an insightful exploration of the human condition. It sneaks up on you with its nuance and discernment…especially considering the dramaticism (I made up that word because nothing else fit what I wanted to say) of the apocalyptic setting. This book is something special and definitely one that I can tell I will be recommending often.
**Two small notes. One, I listened to the audiobook and the narrator rocked it – definitely recommend. Two, I am wobbling between 4 and 5 stars and REALLY cannot decide. WHYYYY can there not be a 4.5 option?!
“I stood looking over my damaged home and tried to forget the sweetness of life on Earth.”
“Survival is insufficient.”
This one has been on my list longer than I care to admit, considering that I just now have gotten around to it. And I mean, it’s not like I’m not reading books as fast as possible over here, but I still have to say, I regret it taking so long to get to this one. It’s been hyped for years, like not just the “exciting new release and then we forget about it a month later” hype, so perhaps I should have known. But regardless, I am here to tell you that it lives up to the hype.
Station Eleven is pretty much an apocalypse story. But in the most high-literature-possible way. It centers around Kirsten Raymonde, originally from Toronto, but now a permanent member of the Traveling Symphony (and also acting troupe) traveling around the area that used to be the northern mid-west states in the US…before the Georgian Flu epidemic that wiped out something like 99% of the Earth’s population. When the Symphony arrives in the “town” St. Deborah by the Water, they cross paths with a violent “prophet” who threatens the peaceful existence of the troupe. As the story progresses, we follow a few main characters between past and present, watching the unfolding of their pre-flu lives, the unraveling of the world post-epidemic, and the slow rebuild since then, all bringing us towards the story’s conclusion, where were learn how each of these stories are intertwined with each other.
For all that this is, very clearly, an “end of the world” story, it is also a fictional and literary masterpiece. And I have to say, that’s a mix of descriptions that I can’t say I’ve ever read or experienced like this before. I mean, I have a ton of favorite scifi/fantasy, that are awesome and well-written and stunningly beautiful, but none that, while reading, I felt like I could legit classify as “classic” lit at the same time as apocalyptic. Fascinating. Since I started with that, I’ll segue into talking about the writing itself. Bottom line, it’s gorgeous. The precision of language and exquisiteness of each turn of phrase is so finely crafted, on par with such favorites as Madeleine Miller’s Circe or Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake(in fact, this was very reminiscent of Oryx and Crake, but definitely not in a way that is too similar, just in the way that, if you liked that, you will definitely be into this book). It’s just wonderfully vivid and evocative - this book is all about feels and atmosphere and the writing delivers.
As far as the plot is concerned, the interplay of connections and references among times/characters/stories is done with a subtlety and finesse that makes you almost proud when you recognize them. And the changes in narration between past and present, the switches in focal point from one character to another, are done in perfect timing to reveal small, meaningful connections among them, but without giving too much away too quickly. This deliberate pace in the unfolding of the plot and connections plays in perfect juxtaposition with the speed of the collapse of the world. Honestly, this look at the end of the world through small details – a paperweight, a self-published comic book series, a quarantined plane, small tattoos of knives on a wrist – that would be completely overlooked by most, provides a definite intimacy and familiarity to a story that is normally approached from a large-scale, impersonal, point of view. It gives the reader a chance to look closely at the humanity behind a collapse like this, and the progression of reactions in a myriad of situations, instead of brushing past that piece and jumping into the dystopia afterwards. I love how realistic this is, that limited scope of each story/POV, because one would only know their own story/experience (and sometimes not even that) in a world that has lost all recognizability. And I love that it allows the reader to see that, even at the end of the world, the small things that make life matter are no different than they are now – it’s a very compelling message.
I finished this book almost surprised to have read such an insightful exploration of the human condition. It sneaks up on you with its nuance and discernment…especially considering the dramaticism (I made up that word because nothing else fit what I wanted to say) of the apocalyptic setting. This book is something special and definitely one that I can tell I will be recommending often.
**Two small notes. One, I listened to the audiobook and the narrator rocked it – definitely recommend. Two, I am wobbling between 4 and 5 stars and REALLY cannot decide. WHYYYY can there not be a 4.5 option?!
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“The sensation of contact, the anticipation of a kiss or brush of -----‘s hand across her bare thigh – such moments were miniscule but they amounted to a lifetime of happiness.”
The first thing that caught my eye about this novel was the title…because obviously. Haha. Then, after reading the description and realizing the title is literally what the book is about, I was really just beyond intrigued. Since I first saw it, the book has gotten much more popular, since it was chosen by Reese Witherspoon as one of her book club books. And though I really hate that that meant they were now printing copies of the book with that seal on the cover (I mean, come on, just let me have my gorgeous cover without extra BS on it), my feelings about reading it stayed about the same.
This book centers around Nikki, what we would consider a more “modern” daughter of Indian immigrants living in London. Although Nikki has spent most of her life trying to remove herself from the Sikh traditions that structured her childhood, she ends up, as a spur of the moment decision, taking a job teaching a creative writing class at a community center in the insular Punjabi neighborhood. Although there are a number of missteps and miscommunications, the class turns into a chance for these Sikh widows to express, in a safe space, the memories and fantasies they have all been holding in. As she gets to know these widows, Nikki comes to respect them and their traditions/experiences more, while simultaneously becoming more accepted into the culture and community. And that leads to her realizing there are some secrets in the community that are not only tragic and upsetting, but also potentially quite dangerous. However, her anger at the unresolved situations is not some that she can easily put away, and she ends up right in the middle of all the drama.
Let me start with the part I’m sure everybody is most interested in: the erotic stories. Personal opinion: I LOVED them. At base, I really enjoyed reading them for what they were – erotic stories. Although not all of them lined up with any personal fantasies, I still got into the mix of cultural markers that made them unique and the fantastically cheesy euphemisms (mostly vegetable based) that appear universally in the romance genre. The variety in the stories told by the widows was also really entertaining. On a slightly more profound level, I so appreciated this exploration of sexuality for a group a people who are mostly overlooked in the conversation about sexual wants/needs: older women. Perhaps this is enforced, in this case, by the fact that these women are also living as part of a very traditional culture (many of which, worldwide, act as though sexual desire is not a reality for women, ever). But I’ll be honest, I don’t think there are any cultures that are particularly open to an older woman voicing her sexuality. So, in that sense, this book really addresses a universal theme. And I truly value and respect that message of female sexual empowerment, no matter what a women’s age, background, culture, religion or society (as a whole) thinks. Everyone deserves to experience pleasure.
Outside of that, this was a really fun read that included some deeper themes, related to Punjabi culture, in a way that maintained the lighter tone of the rest of the book. The side stories of Nikki and her sister looking for (or not looking for) a husband, and how they each go about it, were a great dichotomy. And the secrets that were kept by the community, focusing mainly on the importance of image and honor, even (in extreme cases) over life, gave a bit of insight into some deeply engrained cultural tenets. But at the same time, there were an equal number of messages that showed how these extremes were not really embraced by the larger community any longer, and though the importance of honor stays central, it is inappropriate to label an entire community based on its extreme members. That’s something that has always been true, as every culture/community has extreme members, but unfortunately is not usually followed through on in reality. In addition, the choices made by a number of characters, leaning either towards or away from tradition, really allowed a glimpse into some of the complications of life as an immigrant and trying to find that balance between where you came from and where you are now. And Nikki’s role is a perfect perspective to read this from, since she can most easily voice some of the concern/confusion that an outsider (which I can only assume most readers will be) might voice. And her changes of heart (in some cases) and standing strong in her outlook (in others), as she finds who she is and what her personal identity mix will be, is a well done, if not amazingly dynamic, central storyline to follow.
Overall, there were a great mix of lightness and seriousness in this novel, with the side stories really carrying the plot forwards smoothly alongside the development of the titular erotic story telling. Once I got into the story (which honestly didn’t take long), this was one of those books that I sped right through. A really perfect summer read.
“The sensation of contact, the anticipation of a kiss or brush of -----‘s hand across her bare thigh – such moments were miniscule but they amounted to a lifetime of happiness.”
The first thing that caught my eye about this novel was the title…because obviously. Haha. Then, after reading the description and realizing the title is literally what the book is about, I was really just beyond intrigued. Since I first saw it, the book has gotten much more popular, since it was chosen by Reese Witherspoon as one of her book club books. And though I really hate that that meant they were now printing copies of the book with that seal on the cover (I mean, come on, just let me have my gorgeous cover without extra BS on it), my feelings about reading it stayed about the same.
This book centers around Nikki, what we would consider a more “modern” daughter of Indian immigrants living in London. Although Nikki has spent most of her life trying to remove herself from the Sikh traditions that structured her childhood, she ends up, as a spur of the moment decision, taking a job teaching a creative writing class at a community center in the insular Punjabi neighborhood. Although there are a number of missteps and miscommunications, the class turns into a chance for these Sikh widows to express, in a safe space, the memories and fantasies they have all been holding in. As she gets to know these widows, Nikki comes to respect them and their traditions/experiences more, while simultaneously becoming more accepted into the culture and community. And that leads to her realizing there are some secrets in the community that are not only tragic and upsetting, but also potentially quite dangerous. However, her anger at the unresolved situations is not some that she can easily put away, and she ends up right in the middle of all the drama.
Let me start with the part I’m sure everybody is most interested in: the erotic stories. Personal opinion: I LOVED them. At base, I really enjoyed reading them for what they were – erotic stories. Although not all of them lined up with any personal fantasies, I still got into the mix of cultural markers that made them unique and the fantastically cheesy euphemisms (mostly vegetable based) that appear universally in the romance genre. The variety in the stories told by the widows was also really entertaining. On a slightly more profound level, I so appreciated this exploration of sexuality for a group a people who are mostly overlooked in the conversation about sexual wants/needs: older women. Perhaps this is enforced, in this case, by the fact that these women are also living as part of a very traditional culture (many of which, worldwide, act as though sexual desire is not a reality for women, ever). But I’ll be honest, I don’t think there are any cultures that are particularly open to an older woman voicing her sexuality. So, in that sense, this book really addresses a universal theme. And I truly value and respect that message of female sexual empowerment, no matter what a women’s age, background, culture, religion or society (as a whole) thinks. Everyone deserves to experience pleasure.
Outside of that, this was a really fun read that included some deeper themes, related to Punjabi culture, in a way that maintained the lighter tone of the rest of the book. The side stories of Nikki and her sister looking for (or not looking for) a husband, and how they each go about it, were a great dichotomy. And the secrets that were kept by the community, focusing mainly on the importance of image and honor, even (in extreme cases) over life, gave a bit of insight into some deeply engrained cultural tenets. But at the same time, there were an equal number of messages that showed how these extremes were not really embraced by the larger community any longer, and though the importance of honor stays central, it is inappropriate to label an entire community based on its extreme members. That’s something that has always been true, as every culture/community has extreme members, but unfortunately is not usually followed through on in reality. In addition, the choices made by a number of characters, leaning either towards or away from tradition, really allowed a glimpse into some of the complications of life as an immigrant and trying to find that balance between where you came from and where you are now. And Nikki’s role is a perfect perspective to read this from, since she can most easily voice some of the concern/confusion that an outsider (which I can only assume most readers will be) might voice. And her changes of heart (in some cases) and standing strong in her outlook (in others), as she finds who she is and what her personal identity mix will be, is a well done, if not amazingly dynamic, central storyline to follow.
Overall, there were a great mix of lightness and seriousness in this novel, with the side stories really carrying the plot forwards smoothly alongside the development of the titular erotic story telling. Once I got into the story (which honestly didn’t take long), this was one of those books that I sped right through. A really perfect summer read.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“I’d be such a better person if I could do it again.”
I really wasn’t planning on reading this one. It sounded cute and fluffy, so not bad for the summer honestly, but it just wasn’t something I was overly interested in (despite it’s gorgeous cover). But then I was walking through the library morning, after a meeting (and I totally was not planning to get any more books because my TBR is completely slammed right now), and totally saw this on a special display. It was marked as written by an NC author (and takes place in NC)…and I don’t know what came over me, but I just, I picked it up and checked it out. Whoops.
The Queen of Hearts tells the story of Zadie and Emma, lifelong friends who are now both grown and practicing medicine in Charlotte, NC. They knew everything about each other and have been there for all the most important parts of each other’s lives…or so they think. There is that one year in med school that they just don’t ever talk about. And so far that’s worked out fine for them. But things are about to change with an incoming blast from the past: Nick, a resident during their third year of med school, who played a major part in the drama of that year. And everything they’ve kept secret starts to unravel.
This is such a guilty pleasure type book. A lot of people have compared it to Grey’s Anatomy, which I totally agree with, in regards to the relationship and medical drama. And we all know how successful Grey’s has been, so really that’s a compliment, at least in my opinion. But there is an underlying element to this story that runs a little darker and is reminiscent of, at least for me, Gillian Flynn. Now, it is nowhere near the level of Gone Girl (tbh, the only Flynn I’ve actually read), but it definitely leaned that way more so than Grey’s ever did. The point it, it’s that type of “train wreck is coming and I cannot look away” type book, that you compulsively turn pages in because you need to know what happened/will happen. In that respect, this book was very successful and definitely enjoyable to read. It was written cleanly and smoothly, with fantastic pacing for the type of story it was telling. And you could tell that some of the very specific interactions with patients come from the author’s own experiences, because they are too pointed/unique to be otherwise, which was a fun touch.
On the other hand, there was definitely a few things that I wasn’t so keen on. I normally like a switch of narration between past and present, or among characters, and think that style works especially well in stories like this one. But I got confused a few times while reading this. Zadie and Emma’s voices were just too similar and I found myself not being able to tell a difference between their sections, which made for a not ideal reading experience. Overall, this is a great example of writing what you know, but if you only know one thing, you need to be careful about POV switching like this because they tend to blend. Relatedly, the general relation of life is Charlotte definitely bothered me at a few times. There was a lot of not very subtle name/title dropping and humble bragging and complaining as a cover for showing off (especially about their kids, partner’s jobs and the clubs they’re all a part of) that I feel is typical in a very upper middle class community, like the one that these characters were clearly a part of. It set a very…unnerving…vibe, at least for me. And there were weird moments of unnecessary (and occasionally almost caricatured) details about diversity in some of the non-main-characters in an effort to seem inclusive, while the story more or less is touting how exclusive the lives of these people are. I’m not saying it’s not how things are or anything, but it just came across as a little disingenuous and that bugged me. Perhaps that was the point and it was supposed to be social commentary, but if that’s the case, the writing did not make that clear enough for me.
All in all, this was not anything particularly spectacular, but it was, for sure, a great summer read. I was sucked into the drama right from the start and sped through it because I just couldn’t put it down. If you are looking for something to read at the beach/pool, that will grab your attention and keep you engaged, but won’t drain your emotions or dampen the relaxing mood, this book would be ideal.
“I’d be such a better person if I could do it again.”
I really wasn’t planning on reading this one. It sounded cute and fluffy, so not bad for the summer honestly, but it just wasn’t something I was overly interested in (despite it’s gorgeous cover). But then I was walking through the library morning, after a meeting (and I totally was not planning to get any more books because my TBR is completely slammed right now), and totally saw this on a special display. It was marked as written by an NC author (and takes place in NC)…and I don’t know what came over me, but I just, I picked it up and checked it out. Whoops.
The Queen of Hearts tells the story of Zadie and Emma, lifelong friends who are now both grown and practicing medicine in Charlotte, NC. They knew everything about each other and have been there for all the most important parts of each other’s lives…or so they think. There is that one year in med school that they just don’t ever talk about. And so far that’s worked out fine for them. But things are about to change with an incoming blast from the past: Nick, a resident during their third year of med school, who played a major part in the drama of that year. And everything they’ve kept secret starts to unravel.
This is such a guilty pleasure type book. A lot of people have compared it to Grey’s Anatomy, which I totally agree with, in regards to the relationship and medical drama. And we all know how successful Grey’s has been, so really that’s a compliment, at least in my opinion. But there is an underlying element to this story that runs a little darker and is reminiscent of, at least for me, Gillian Flynn. Now, it is nowhere near the level of Gone Girl (tbh, the only Flynn I’ve actually read), but it definitely leaned that way more so than Grey’s ever did. The point it, it’s that type of “train wreck is coming and I cannot look away” type book, that you compulsively turn pages in because you need to know what happened/will happen. In that respect, this book was very successful and definitely enjoyable to read. It was written cleanly and smoothly, with fantastic pacing for the type of story it was telling. And you could tell that some of the very specific interactions with patients come from the author’s own experiences, because they are too pointed/unique to be otherwise, which was a fun touch.
On the other hand, there was definitely a few things that I wasn’t so keen on. I normally like a switch of narration between past and present, or among characters, and think that style works especially well in stories like this one. But I got confused a few times while reading this. Zadie and Emma’s voices were just too similar and I found myself not being able to tell a difference between their sections, which made for a not ideal reading experience. Overall, this is a great example of writing what you know, but if you only know one thing, you need to be careful about POV switching like this because they tend to blend. Relatedly, the general relation of life is Charlotte definitely bothered me at a few times. There was a lot of not very subtle name/title dropping and humble bragging and complaining as a cover for showing off (especially about their kids, partner’s jobs and the clubs they’re all a part of) that I feel is typical in a very upper middle class community, like the one that these characters were clearly a part of. It set a very…unnerving…vibe, at least for me. And there were weird moments of unnecessary (and occasionally almost caricatured) details about diversity in some of the non-main-characters in an effort to seem inclusive, while the story more or less is touting how exclusive the lives of these people are. I’m not saying it’s not how things are or anything, but it just came across as a little disingenuous and that bugged me. Perhaps that was the point and it was supposed to be social commentary, but if that’s the case, the writing did not make that clear enough for me.
All in all, this was not anything particularly spectacular, but it was, for sure, a great summer read. I was sucked into the drama right from the start and sped through it because I just couldn’t put it down. If you are looking for something to read at the beach/pool, that will grab your attention and keep you engaged, but won’t drain your emotions or dampen the relaxing mood, this book would be ideal.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I was really drawn to this book for a couple reasons: the cover is so compelling (the color contrast is really bold and I love it), the title is awesome (something about the word moxie gets me all pumped up) and the description is super inspiring (feminism in a small town America high school). So, pretty much no reason not to try it!
Quick summary of the plot: Vivian is a junior at a high school in rural Texas, where everything revolves around the Friday night football games. Which means that the football players are essentially gods…and allowed to get away with anything. This status quo is something that starts to chafe at Vivian, especially as she makes friends with some new students from bigger cities who help her realize that it’s not like that everywhere. So, inspired by her mother’s past as a Riot Grrrl, Vivian secretly starts a feminism “zine” at her school, that slowly but surely attracts more and more girls who are sick of being treated so discriminatorily, unequally, and condescendingly. And in the end, these girls (and some male supporters) make sure that their voices are heard, once and for all.
This book starts in a fairly cheesy, typical high school novel sort of way. I mean the threads of ‘football gods” and inferiority of women are there from the start, but the basic plotline is still following your normal high school set up. Girls who are best friends, new kids rocking the boat, secret crushes, etc. And honestly, even after the first few “editions” of Moxie, as things are starting to build up, the mood generally stays in that adolescent niche – important messages and topics are being brought into the plot (and don’t get me wrong, a number of actions by the male students and school admin make me straight angry), but basically, the feel is still mostly lighthearted. However, as the “movement” starts to grow, and we get more and more momentum (and thus, insights into other female student’s experiences), the mood changes slightly. It’s still completely believable for a school aged plot, etc., but it definitely has a heavier, more impactful, feel. And by the time we get to the end, the big hurrah moment, if you will, I won’t lie: I cried. (At this point, I’d like you to bear in mind that I’m an emotional crier – so essentially, I cry a lot.) The point is though, that it hit home to me in such a real way because no matter where you are from or how progressive (or not) your home is, these situations (gasp-ably terrible situations) are recognizable to all of us. And that’s just…so sad. And truly, the fact that these young women found a way to band together and create a real change in a positive way was so inspiring and uplifting to read. It just really hit me in the emotions.
There’s a few other things that are covered that I really liked and want to make sure to point out (I’m going with a list form, so as not to create a paragraph that’s too overwhelming to read).
- This is a really truthful portrayal of the struggle to find who you are and what you believe in, separate from your friends and community. This is particularly hard in high school, or in small town, “traditional” and “limited option” settings like this, and I appreciated that a lot. It’s not easy.
- I LOVE that art and handwriting of the zines. It’s cute and clean, but also totally accessible. There’s nothing spectacularly artsy or design-genius about them, which leaves the focus on the message, as well as (hopefully) creating an accessible “goal” for any readers who think they might want to try something like this. It really makes this type of fighting back seem possible for a “normal” person.
- Relatedly, I like the little community forming and “getting back” ideas that Vivian and the other girls come up with as part of Moxie. They too are accessible and doable and grow alongside the group, in proportion to it, but are clear and actionable and illustrative.
- I loved the way the book addresses intersectionality in feminism. From complete oversight in the past to the difficulties in the present and the slow growth of the participants of Moxie is realizing it. It’s realistic and optimistic, but recognizes shortcomings at the same time. Vivian’s own growth related to this concept is well written (both towards Kiera and Emma, as main examples) and shows that even with the best intentions and goals, we still need to be open to what we are missing. But also that missing something doesn’t mean you have failed, it’s just a chance to fix and improve and be more inclusive moving forwards.
- Along those same lines, the inclusion of a “good guy” in the mix (Seth), as well as a more experienced feminist (Lucy) and a more reluctant feminist (Claudia), all do a great job illustrating that we all start in a different place and need to accommodate each other’s growth. We may take different paths to get to the endpoint, but our goals are the same and writing each other off hurts only ourselves.
- In general, the prevailing message that so many things, from external systems to internal prejudices/beliefs, threaten to splinter us apart, but that the more we stand together, the stronger we are, was moving and heartening. Such a great message to spread to young women and their allies.
Overall, this novel really grew with it’s message and takeaways as it went. In the same way that Vivian grows and learns and is inspired throughout, as is the reader. Although it’s definitely a YA representation of feminism, that doesn’t make it any less important. The morals in this story are definitely ones that I support instilling as early as possible, and Mathieu makes is clear, here, how possible that is. No matter how old you are or where you live, you don’t just have to take it, you can fight back! I feel like as a high schooler, I would have felt so strong and fierce and capable of actually doing something after reading this…and even now, as I mentioned, the significance really hit me. Definitely a quick, light-ish read that I recommend if you are looking to be pumped up!
Some quotes I enjoyed:
“Something heavy starts descending over me, and I know I could be an actual giant and I would still feel like I’m being crushed.”
“…I guess it would be asking too much for 100 percent of my life to be 100 percent awesome 100 percent of the time.”
“…this is what it means to be a feminist. Not a humanist or an equalist or whatever. But a feminist. It’s not a bad word. After today it might be my favorite word. Because really all it is is girls supporting each other and wanting to be treated like human beings in a world that’s always finding ways to tell them they’re not.”
“…my mind is full of images of girls dancing together and smiling and holding hands, taking up all the space they want.”
“We shout back… Our voices are so loud. So big. So much. So beautiful.”
I was really drawn to this book for a couple reasons: the cover is so compelling (the color contrast is really bold and I love it), the title is awesome (something about the word moxie gets me all pumped up) and the description is super inspiring (feminism in a small town America high school). So, pretty much no reason not to try it!
Quick summary of the plot: Vivian is a junior at a high school in rural Texas, where everything revolves around the Friday night football games. Which means that the football players are essentially gods…and allowed to get away with anything. This status quo is something that starts to chafe at Vivian, especially as she makes friends with some new students from bigger cities who help her realize that it’s not like that everywhere. So, inspired by her mother’s past as a Riot Grrrl, Vivian secretly starts a feminism “zine” at her school, that slowly but surely attracts more and more girls who are sick of being treated so discriminatorily, unequally, and condescendingly. And in the end, these girls (and some male supporters) make sure that their voices are heard, once and for all.
This book starts in a fairly cheesy, typical high school novel sort of way. I mean the threads of ‘football gods” and inferiority of women are there from the start, but the basic plotline is still following your normal high school set up. Girls who are best friends, new kids rocking the boat, secret crushes, etc. And honestly, even after the first few “editions” of Moxie, as things are starting to build up, the mood generally stays in that adolescent niche – important messages and topics are being brought into the plot (and don’t get me wrong, a number of actions by the male students and school admin make me straight angry), but basically, the feel is still mostly lighthearted. However, as the “movement” starts to grow, and we get more and more momentum (and thus, insights into other female student’s experiences), the mood changes slightly. It’s still completely believable for a school aged plot, etc., but it definitely has a heavier, more impactful, feel. And by the time we get to the end, the big hurrah moment, if you will, I won’t lie: I cried. (At this point, I’d like you to bear in mind that I’m an emotional crier – so essentially, I cry a lot.) The point is though, that it hit home to me in such a real way because no matter where you are from or how progressive (or not) your home is, these situations (gasp-ably terrible situations) are recognizable to all of us. And that’s just…so sad. And truly, the fact that these young women found a way to band together and create a real change in a positive way was so inspiring and uplifting to read. It just really hit me in the emotions.
There’s a few other things that are covered that I really liked and want to make sure to point out (I’m going with a list form, so as not to create a paragraph that’s too overwhelming to read).
- This is a really truthful portrayal of the struggle to find who you are and what you believe in, separate from your friends and community. This is particularly hard in high school, or in small town, “traditional” and “limited option” settings like this, and I appreciated that a lot. It’s not easy.
- I LOVE that art and handwriting of the zines. It’s cute and clean, but also totally accessible. There’s nothing spectacularly artsy or design-genius about them, which leaves the focus on the message, as well as (hopefully) creating an accessible “goal” for any readers who think they might want to try something like this. It really makes this type of fighting back seem possible for a “normal” person.
- Relatedly, I like the little community forming and “getting back” ideas that Vivian and the other girls come up with as part of Moxie. They too are accessible and doable and grow alongside the group, in proportion to it, but are clear and actionable and illustrative.
- I loved the way the book addresses intersectionality in feminism. From complete oversight in the past to the difficulties in the present and the slow growth of the participants of Moxie is realizing it. It’s realistic and optimistic, but recognizes shortcomings at the same time. Vivian’s own growth related to this concept is well written (both towards Kiera and Emma, as main examples) and shows that even with the best intentions and goals, we still need to be open to what we are missing. But also that missing something doesn’t mean you have failed, it’s just a chance to fix and improve and be more inclusive moving forwards.
- Along those same lines, the inclusion of a “good guy” in the mix (Seth), as well as a more experienced feminist (Lucy) and a more reluctant feminist (Claudia), all do a great job illustrating that we all start in a different place and need to accommodate each other’s growth. We may take different paths to get to the endpoint, but our goals are the same and writing each other off hurts only ourselves.
- In general, the prevailing message that so many things, from external systems to internal prejudices/beliefs, threaten to splinter us apart, but that the more we stand together, the stronger we are, was moving and heartening. Such a great message to spread to young women and their allies.
Overall, this novel really grew with it’s message and takeaways as it went. In the same way that Vivian grows and learns and is inspired throughout, as is the reader. Although it’s definitely a YA representation of feminism, that doesn’t make it any less important. The morals in this story are definitely ones that I support instilling as early as possible, and Mathieu makes is clear, here, how possible that is. No matter how old you are or where you live, you don’t just have to take it, you can fight back! I feel like as a high schooler, I would have felt so strong and fierce and capable of actually doing something after reading this…and even now, as I mentioned, the significance really hit me. Definitely a quick, light-ish read that I recommend if you are looking to be pumped up!
Some quotes I enjoyed:
“Something heavy starts descending over me, and I know I could be an actual giant and I would still feel like I’m being crushed.”
“…I guess it would be asking too much for 100 percent of my life to be 100 percent awesome 100 percent of the time.”
“…this is what it means to be a feminist. Not a humanist or an equalist or whatever. But a feminist. It’s not a bad word. After today it might be my favorite word. Because really all it is is girls supporting each other and wanting to be treated like human beings in a world that’s always finding ways to tell them they’re not.”
“…my mind is full of images of girls dancing together and smiling and holding hands, taking up all the space they want.”
“We shout back… Our voices are so loud. So big. So much. So beautiful.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I was recommended (and actually gifted) this book by a friend years ago. Like, so many years ago that it is quite embarrassing that it took me this long to read it, especially considering how much I read and how good of a friend the recommender is. However, I’m going with a “better late than never” outlook…and asking for a teeny bit of forgiveness from said friend.
As far as plot, I suppose it technically centers around the twins Rahel and Esthappen, who are seven-years-old, members of a reasonably well of family in India, when tragedy strikes their family in 1969. Although, for the most part, the story happens around them instead of to them (and by that I mean, as seven-year-olds, where does their agency start and where are their decisions as a result of the machinations/communications of the adults around them?), they do play a very pivotal role in the events that change things for them, their relationship with each other, and their family, forever. Events that also shine a light on many of the unsaid, but universally understood, fundamental beliefs that, for better or worse, shape Indian society.
Alright, I am struggling with this review for a number of reasons. First, and most important, this is just one of those books that is so impressive in scope and so subtle in message that I feel like I am not smart enough to understand it all. And I do not day that with false modesty – I know a lot of things, many of which are because of how much I read. But every once in awhile I come across a book like this. One that is so precise in it’s language, where you can tell that each moment was crafted and delivered with such purpose and perfection, that if you do not read something deeper into almost every action, character or quote, that you are missing part of the greater picture you are supposed to be getting insight into. There are metaphors layered on metaphors, political and social commentary of unbelievable meditative depth, that it seems almost impossible to catch it all. And I found myself feeling almost guilty that my knowledge of India, and the traditions, beliefs and politics in the country are not enough to fully appreciate this novel.
In addition to that, the almost dreamlike quality of the writing, the details in the descriptions, that painted a picture so real you could literally almost touch, see, smell it, sometimes lost me. I occasionally found my attention drifting away from these exactitudes, even while I was objectively aware of and impressed with the level of competency from the author. There were parts of this that I loved, like the descriptions of the twins, Rahel and Estha, as Ambassadors E. Pelvis and S. Insect, with their beige and pointy shoes and fountain in a Love-in-Tokyo, build on each other and grew and repeated as the story progressed. Becoming deeper and tying in ever more moments and feelings as they went. I loved how this happened for many characters, and many moments, throughout. The cadence of that as a writing device was used to perfection and done with impressive control. But there were also parts that lost me, and my attention, is a dramatic way.
However, at the same, even with the parts where I zoned out a little bit and the parts that I probably didn’t get/understand, this reading experience still hit me with all the power of a real literary tour de force. And that is not something to take lightly. The clear condemnation of the caste system, it’s rules about who/how you can love, the strict confines on how to live and love appropriately within social construct, and the, at times quite satirical, insights into how these social structures interacted with political principles was searing. And there was no way to miss that. I also felt like the simultaneous exploration of these themes from a wide-lens, societal view, alongside the more intimate look at how they play out in a single family structure, combined with the domestic (intra-country/internal) vs international (inter-country/external) views on these issues, are juggled skillfully. That’s a lot to weave together, and Roy does it flawlessly, while also taking the narrative back and forth in its’ timeline so that the reader, by the end, has no questions as to how this ending could possibly have come to be, and how the history of the world played together with individual decisions to create such a tragedy.
So, hopefully that helped flush out what I thought a little bit about? Haha. This is such a complex book that writing a straightforward review is pretty much impossible. I’m trying to think of a “takeaway” for the end that will kind of summarize things for you. This was profound, on so many levels. The commentary on Indian society is intricate and intelligent, the language is rhythmical and almost haunting (perfect for the story’s mood), the family saga is complicated and tragic (honestly, Rahel and Estha’s childhood emotional trauma is heartbreaking), and the forbidden love story that is the highly foreshadowed linchpin of this story’s central tragedy (despite the late-ness of its actual arrival to the plot), is worthy of the build-up. Although there were times that I was a bit adrift in the middle of this story, that does nothing to diminish my respect for what Roy has achieved here. Anyways, this is just a gorgeously intellectual tale from an esteemed modern writer and activist.
(If you are nervous about reading it after this review (because I certainly would be), but you want to try it anyways (which I applaud) - I highly recommend the audiobook. The narrator was great and that keeps the plot moving forwards through those sticky spots without letting you stagnate in them.)
“History’s smell. Like old roses on a breeze. It would lurk forever in ordinary things. In coat hangers. Tomatoes. In the tar on roads. In certain colors. In the plates at a restaurant. In the absence of words. And the emptiness in eyes.”
“D’you know what happens when you hurt people?’ Ammu said. ‘When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That’s what careless words do. They make people love you a little less.”
“If you're happy in a dream, does that count?”
“But what was there to say?
Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat. Only that a hard honey-colored shoulder had a semicircle of teethmarks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.
Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.”
I was recommended (and actually gifted) this book by a friend years ago. Like, so many years ago that it is quite embarrassing that it took me this long to read it, especially considering how much I read and how good of a friend the recommender is. However, I’m going with a “better late than never” outlook…and asking for a teeny bit of forgiveness from said friend.
As far as plot, I suppose it technically centers around the twins Rahel and Esthappen, who are seven-years-old, members of a reasonably well of family in India, when tragedy strikes their family in 1969. Although, for the most part, the story happens around them instead of to them (and by that I mean, as seven-year-olds, where does their agency start and where are their decisions as a result of the machinations/communications of the adults around them?), they do play a very pivotal role in the events that change things for them, their relationship with each other, and their family, forever. Events that also shine a light on many of the unsaid, but universally understood, fundamental beliefs that, for better or worse, shape Indian society.
Alright, I am struggling with this review for a number of reasons. First, and most important, this is just one of those books that is so impressive in scope and so subtle in message that I feel like I am not smart enough to understand it all. And I do not day that with false modesty – I know a lot of things, many of which are because of how much I read. But every once in awhile I come across a book like this. One that is so precise in it’s language, where you can tell that each moment was crafted and delivered with such purpose and perfection, that if you do not read something deeper into almost every action, character or quote, that you are missing part of the greater picture you are supposed to be getting insight into. There are metaphors layered on metaphors, political and social commentary of unbelievable meditative depth, that it seems almost impossible to catch it all. And I found myself feeling almost guilty that my knowledge of India, and the traditions, beliefs and politics in the country are not enough to fully appreciate this novel.
In addition to that, the almost dreamlike quality of the writing, the details in the descriptions, that painted a picture so real you could literally almost touch, see, smell it, sometimes lost me. I occasionally found my attention drifting away from these exactitudes, even while I was objectively aware of and impressed with the level of competency from the author. There were parts of this that I loved, like the descriptions of the twins, Rahel and Estha, as Ambassadors E. Pelvis and S. Insect, with their beige and pointy shoes and fountain in a Love-in-Tokyo, build on each other and grew and repeated as the story progressed. Becoming deeper and tying in ever more moments and feelings as they went. I loved how this happened for many characters, and many moments, throughout. The cadence of that as a writing device was used to perfection and done with impressive control. But there were also parts that lost me, and my attention, is a dramatic way.
However, at the same, even with the parts where I zoned out a little bit and the parts that I probably didn’t get/understand, this reading experience still hit me with all the power of a real literary tour de force. And that is not something to take lightly. The clear condemnation of the caste system, it’s rules about who/how you can love, the strict confines on how to live and love appropriately within social construct, and the, at times quite satirical, insights into how these social structures interacted with political principles was searing. And there was no way to miss that. I also felt like the simultaneous exploration of these themes from a wide-lens, societal view, alongside the more intimate look at how they play out in a single family structure, combined with the domestic (intra-country/internal) vs international (inter-country/external) views on these issues, are juggled skillfully. That’s a lot to weave together, and Roy does it flawlessly, while also taking the narrative back and forth in its’ timeline so that the reader, by the end, has no questions as to how this ending could possibly have come to be, and how the history of the world played together with individual decisions to create such a tragedy.
So, hopefully that helped flush out what I thought a little bit about? Haha. This is such a complex book that writing a straightforward review is pretty much impossible. I’m trying to think of a “takeaway” for the end that will kind of summarize things for you. This was profound, on so many levels. The commentary on Indian society is intricate and intelligent, the language is rhythmical and almost haunting (perfect for the story’s mood), the family saga is complicated and tragic (honestly, Rahel and Estha’s childhood emotional trauma is heartbreaking), and the forbidden love story that is the highly foreshadowed linchpin of this story’s central tragedy (despite the late-ness of its actual arrival to the plot), is worthy of the build-up. Although there were times that I was a bit adrift in the middle of this story, that does nothing to diminish my respect for what Roy has achieved here. Anyways, this is just a gorgeously intellectual tale from an esteemed modern writer and activist.
(If you are nervous about reading it after this review (because I certainly would be), but you want to try it anyways (which I applaud) - I highly recommend the audiobook. The narrator was great and that keeps the plot moving forwards through those sticky spots without letting you stagnate in them.)
“History’s smell. Like old roses on a breeze. It would lurk forever in ordinary things. In coat hangers. Tomatoes. In the tar on roads. In certain colors. In the plates at a restaurant. In the absence of words. And the emptiness in eyes.”
“D’you know what happens when you hurt people?’ Ammu said. ‘When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That’s what careless words do. They make people love you a little less.”
“If you're happy in a dream, does that count?”
“But what was there to say?
Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat. Only that a hard honey-colored shoulder had a semicircle of teethmarks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.
Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
What a great, broody, intriguing start to a trilogy. This has all the elements of a great YA [historical fiction] trilogy: political drama, budding romances (both hetero and homo), betrayal, secrets, and lots of emotional ups and downs. First, let me just say that I LOVE this historical recasting of Vlad the Impaler to be a lady, Lada the Impaler. And both Vlad’s story and the Ottoman Empire are, for me, fascinating parts of history. I'm also enjoying the way Islam is portrayed, from various lenses, by the different characters, and how that plays both for them individually and into the larger story. So altogether, that combination gives me a lot of reasons to love this book. For an opener, I felt like this book did a fantastic job setting up the rest of the story. And that’s not to say it was not interesting in its own right. The relationship building among Lada, Radu and Mehmed, along with many of the other side characters, like Huma, Halil Pasha, Nicolae, Bogdan, Kumal and Nazira, was phenomenal, both on interpersonal levels and related to political gain/maneuvering. Seeing how everything started for these characters, how they all met, and how they grew into who/what they are now…it just sets the stage perfectly for what is coming.
And to that point, I love where this book ended. It has definitely got me ready to jump into the next one to see what comes next, emotionally loaded and on the verge of big things, but without being overly/unnecessarily cliffhanger-y (which is one of my biggest pet peeves in series – you can create a reason for me to want to read on without overdoing it, but anyways…). Lada has made her decisions and is poised to take up a major mantel, fighting (impressively) against everything it means to be a woman in that day and age. Mehmed is similarly poised, ready to strike out after his destiny…and a little heartbroken too, I would think (I’m interested to see how that plays out). And Radu, probably the character my heart hurts for the most, is stuck in the middle of everything – my feels for him are real. But her too is starting to come into his own, which I’m totally down with. Overall, I cannot wait to read more about one of my new favorite heroines in what is, so far, a great historical retelling/embellishment. Lada is badass, brutal, sure of herself (even if it’s sometimes to a fault), and just an awesomely strong lady. And this exploration of the lives of some of history’s most debated characters, and how they became the legends they are today, has got me hooked.
What a great, broody, intriguing start to a trilogy. This has all the elements of a great YA [historical fiction] trilogy: political drama, budding romances (both hetero and homo), betrayal, secrets, and lots of emotional ups and downs. First, let me just say that I LOVE this historical recasting of Vlad the Impaler to be a lady, Lada the Impaler. And both Vlad’s story and the Ottoman Empire are, for me, fascinating parts of history. I'm also enjoying the way Islam is portrayed, from various lenses, by the different characters, and how that plays both for them individually and into the larger story. So altogether, that combination gives me a lot of reasons to love this book. For an opener, I felt like this book did a fantastic job setting up the rest of the story. And that’s not to say it was not interesting in its own right. The relationship building among Lada, Radu and Mehmed, along with many of the other side characters, like Huma, Halil Pasha, Nicolae, Bogdan, Kumal and Nazira, was phenomenal, both on interpersonal levels and related to political gain/maneuvering. Seeing how everything started for these characters, how they all met, and how they grew into who/what they are now…it just sets the stage perfectly for what is coming.
And to that point, I love where this book ended. It has definitely got me ready to jump into the next one to see what comes next, emotionally loaded and on the verge of big things, but without being overly/unnecessarily cliffhanger-y (which is one of my biggest pet peeves in series – you can create a reason for me to want to read on without overdoing it, but anyways…). Lada has made her decisions and is poised to take up a major mantel, fighting (impressively) against everything it means to be a woman in that day and age. Mehmed is similarly poised, ready to strike out after his destiny…and a little heartbroken too, I would think (I’m interested to see how that plays out). And Radu, probably the character my heart hurts for the most, is stuck in the middle of everything – my feels for him are real. But her too is starting to come into his own, which I’m totally down with. Overall, I cannot wait to read more about one of my new favorite heroines in what is, so far, a great historical retelling/embellishment. Lada is badass, brutal, sure of herself (even if it’s sometimes to a fault), and just an awesomely strong lady. And this exploration of the lives of some of history’s most debated characters, and how they became the legends they are today, has got me hooked.