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This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
This is one of those books that has been on my radar for awhile. In fact, I had it on my Beat the Backlist reading list for this year (2018). And it came up again just a few weeks ago when I went through the Unbound Worlds Top 100 Fantasy Books list. Almost three years ago now, at the beginning of 2016, I read a duology by Jemisin, the Dreamblood duology. It was a random choice. I was browsing the library shelves and they both happened to be available. I am always down for a standalone/duology (sometimes I can’t deal with a longer commitment than that) and it turned out to be not only perfect timing (right before a couple of snow days), but also, one of the best spur of the moment book choices I had ever made. I was so impressed with the creativity and world-building and social commentary in the set. To be honest, knowing how much I loved those books, and how amazing they were, I can’t way why it took me so long to pick up this one, the first in a trilogy that is likely Jemisin’s most well-known work. Things happen. I get distracted. Anyways…the long story short is this one is just as good, if not better, and I had already ordered the next two before I was even halfway done with this first one.
Usually, when I write reviews for series, I try to wait and do a single post for the whole thing. But after finishing this one, I think I’m going to have to split these three up. There is just so much going on that one post would not only overwhelm and readers, it would be too much for me as well. And so, in the spirit of taking it slow, savoring the experience and appreciating the depth, here are my thoughts on book one.
First, a quick overview synopsis. I say overview because that’s the only option. If I try to truly go into the plot, this will turn into a crazy long and unwieldy review. To that end, we start this book reading from three perspectives: Syenite, Damaya, and “you.” Yes, one of the sections is written in second person and it is an incredibly unique reading experience. These women live in a sort of parallel universe Earth world; one in which certain people, called orogenes (or, in offensive slang, “rogga”) have the ability to manipulate energy to control the movements of the earth (seismic events). These orogenes are controlled and manipulated into what is essentially slavery, to keep the world safe, both because of them and from them. Our three narrators have this power. And when a fifth season begins (a period of time, caused by a natural disaster, during which the environmental state of the world is generally incompatible with normal life – leading to lots of death and martial law), they face a number of threats, decisions, and situations that cause them to question everything they’ve been taught.
If that outline was a little confusing…good. You should definitely be prepared to be confused for awhile if you decide to pick this book up. I know that type of “introduction to the world” is not a style that works for everyone. So, I’m warning you here: you have to work for it for at least the first third of the book. Even after that, as you start to get more comfortable with the vocabulary and details and characters and world history/lore, there is still quite a lot that is unclear. And though things slowing become more understandable, and come together, as the book goes, there is never a point where you can truly lower your guard. At any time, there is a comment or suggestion or plot point that you really have to use your brain to follow. And though you absolutely get lost in things as you read, it is never what I would call effortless. However, it’s more compelling, I think, because of that. Also, it’s completely worth the effort. Because this is truly some of the most intricate, atmospheric and expertly unfolded world-building I have ever experienced. It seems almost as if you are reading a story of another country, like something you would be assigned for a university history class, than a fantasy novel.
Relatedly, as soon as you start to get a feel for the structure and vocabulary and circumstances of this world, the knocks start coming hard and fast. Jemisin hits the ground running and only ever continues to accelerate. Things are graphic, gasp-ably horrific, tangible, and, because they are also extremely recognizably metaphorical, everything is that much worse. But don’t let that dissuade you either. Many fantasy stories are meant to shine a light on something in our own worlds – the continued fight from the side of good even in light of the triumphs of evil – this one just manages to address that so well, that sometimes you don’t want to recognize how parallel it actually is. Though, as with all fantasy, you could conceivably read it without those deeper messages and just enjoy it for the foreign-ness and escape from reality is could provide. There is, in fact, so much to unpack that I am not even sure where, or how, to start. Honestly, Jemisin’s explorations of power structures, suppression, exploitation, and aggressions both macro and micro (based, presumably, but not yet conclusively, since this is just book one, on fear and the goal of those in power to remain in power). There are so many beautifully sad correspondences between the way orogenes are treated in this world with the way minorities are treated in our own world. And the fine line between making them too subtle to notice versus too obvious (to a point of being insulted) is walked to perfection – you cannot miss it, but you are not beaten over the head with it. Overall, the confidence and assumption of understanding that this book written with is exceptional.
Some other random things I want to make sure I share. The little blurbs from folklore, stone law/lore, and other histories that are included at the end of each chapter are fascinating, insightful, and definitely some of the most affecting words in the novel. This really plays into the world-building that I’ve already mentioned/praised, but also they carry many truths in their own rights that I felt were important enough to warrant a separate mention. Also, there is a reveal, about three quarters of the way through, about our three narrators that straight blew me away. I don’t want to give any spoilers, so I’ll keep it as vague as possible (and maybe I’m the only one who didn’t see it coming – maybe one of the benefits of having to pay so much attention to figure out the world they live in is that you don’t have time to pay attention to the characters themselves and therefore can’t predict it), but let me tell you – it was a put-the-book-down-and-gasp-out-loud moment that took me completely by surprise. I loved it.
The last thing I want to say is that it’s worth noting that the story, beyond all this deeper meaning and metaphors and reader effort, is fantastic. It’s a page turning plot, with kidnapped children, characters of unknown origin and ambition, mysterious history and power, and, to top it all off, wonderful foreshadowing about this being the final fifth season. Things build and come together in a phenomenal way and I am beyond ready for the next books to be delivered so I can continue the adventure and see what happens!
“But much of history is unwritten. Remember this.”
“The shake that passes will echo. The wave that recedes will come back. The mountain that rumbles will roar.”
“Tell them they can be great someday, like us. Tell them they belong among us, no matter how much we treat them. Tell them they must earn the respect which everyone else receives by default. Tell them there is a standard for acceptance; that standard is simply perfection. Kill those who scoff at these contradictions, and tell the rest that the dead deserved annihilation for their weakness and doubt. Then they’ll break themselves trying for what they’ll never achieve.”
“She must be cold and calm in her anger, lest a lack of self-control be dismissed as the mark of monstrosity.”
“Home is people. […] Home is what you take with you, not what you leave behind.”
“When the reasoning mind is forced to confront the impossible again and again, it has no choice bt to adapt.”
“…neither myths nor mysteries can hold a candle to the most infinitesimal spark of hope.”
“‘I will tear the whole world apart if they ever hurt us again.’ But we would still be hurt, she thinks.”
“Even the hardest stone can fracture. It just takes the right force, applied at the right junction of angles. A fulcrum of pressure and weakness.”
This is one of those books that has been on my radar for awhile. In fact, I had it on my Beat the Backlist reading list for this year (2018). And it came up again just a few weeks ago when I went through the Unbound Worlds Top 100 Fantasy Books list. Almost three years ago now, at the beginning of 2016, I read a duology by Jemisin, the Dreamblood duology. It was a random choice. I was browsing the library shelves and they both happened to be available. I am always down for a standalone/duology (sometimes I can’t deal with a longer commitment than that) and it turned out to be not only perfect timing (right before a couple of snow days), but also, one of the best spur of the moment book choices I had ever made. I was so impressed with the creativity and world-building and social commentary in the set. To be honest, knowing how much I loved those books, and how amazing they were, I can’t way why it took me so long to pick up this one, the first in a trilogy that is likely Jemisin’s most well-known work. Things happen. I get distracted. Anyways…the long story short is this one is just as good, if not better, and I had already ordered the next two before I was even halfway done with this first one.
Usually, when I write reviews for series, I try to wait and do a single post for the whole thing. But after finishing this one, I think I’m going to have to split these three up. There is just so much going on that one post would not only overwhelm and readers, it would be too much for me as well. And so, in the spirit of taking it slow, savoring the experience and appreciating the depth, here are my thoughts on book one.
First, a quick overview synopsis. I say overview because that’s the only option. If I try to truly go into the plot, this will turn into a crazy long and unwieldy review. To that end, we start this book reading from three perspectives: Syenite, Damaya, and “you.” Yes, one of the sections is written in second person and it is an incredibly unique reading experience. These women live in a sort of parallel universe Earth world; one in which certain people, called orogenes (or, in offensive slang, “rogga”) have the ability to manipulate energy to control the movements of the earth (seismic events). These orogenes are controlled and manipulated into what is essentially slavery, to keep the world safe, both because of them and from them. Our three narrators have this power. And when a fifth season begins (a period of time, caused by a natural disaster, during which the environmental state of the world is generally incompatible with normal life – leading to lots of death and martial law), they face a number of threats, decisions, and situations that cause them to question everything they’ve been taught.
If that outline was a little confusing…good. You should definitely be prepared to be confused for awhile if you decide to pick this book up. I know that type of “introduction to the world” is not a style that works for everyone. So, I’m warning you here: you have to work for it for at least the first third of the book. Even after that, as you start to get more comfortable with the vocabulary and details and characters and world history/lore, there is still quite a lot that is unclear. And though things slowing become more understandable, and come together, as the book goes, there is never a point where you can truly lower your guard. At any time, there is a comment or suggestion or plot point that you really have to use your brain to follow. And though you absolutely get lost in things as you read, it is never what I would call effortless. However, it’s more compelling, I think, because of that. Also, it’s completely worth the effort. Because this is truly some of the most intricate, atmospheric and expertly unfolded world-building I have ever experienced. It seems almost as if you are reading a story of another country, like something you would be assigned for a university history class, than a fantasy novel.
Relatedly, as soon as you start to get a feel for the structure and vocabulary and circumstances of this world, the knocks start coming hard and fast. Jemisin hits the ground running and only ever continues to accelerate. Things are graphic, gasp-ably horrific, tangible, and, because they are also extremely recognizably metaphorical, everything is that much worse. But don’t let that dissuade you either. Many fantasy stories are meant to shine a light on something in our own worlds – the continued fight from the side of good even in light of the triumphs of evil – this one just manages to address that so well, that sometimes you don’t want to recognize how parallel it actually is. Though, as with all fantasy, you could conceivably read it without those deeper messages and just enjoy it for the foreign-ness and escape from reality is could provide. There is, in fact, so much to unpack that I am not even sure where, or how, to start. Honestly, Jemisin’s explorations of power structures, suppression, exploitation, and aggressions both macro and micro (based, presumably, but not yet conclusively, since this is just book one, on fear and the goal of those in power to remain in power). There are so many beautifully sad correspondences between the way orogenes are treated in this world with the way minorities are treated in our own world. And the fine line between making them too subtle to notice versus too obvious (to a point of being insulted) is walked to perfection – you cannot miss it, but you are not beaten over the head with it. Overall, the confidence and assumption of understanding that this book written with is exceptional.
Some other random things I want to make sure I share. The little blurbs from folklore, stone law/lore, and other histories that are included at the end of each chapter are fascinating, insightful, and definitely some of the most affecting words in the novel. This really plays into the world-building that I’ve already mentioned/praised, but also they carry many truths in their own rights that I felt were important enough to warrant a separate mention. Also, there is a reveal, about three quarters of the way through, about our three narrators that straight blew me away. I don’t want to give any spoilers, so I’ll keep it as vague as possible (and maybe I’m the only one who didn’t see it coming – maybe one of the benefits of having to pay so much attention to figure out the world they live in is that you don’t have time to pay attention to the characters themselves and therefore can’t predict it), but let me tell you – it was a put-the-book-down-and-gasp-out-loud moment that took me completely by surprise. I loved it.
The last thing I want to say is that it’s worth noting that the story, beyond all this deeper meaning and metaphors and reader effort, is fantastic. It’s a page turning plot, with kidnapped children, characters of unknown origin and ambition, mysterious history and power, and, to top it all off, wonderful foreshadowing about this being the final fifth season. Things build and come together in a phenomenal way and I am beyond ready for the next books to be delivered so I can continue the adventure and see what happens!
“But much of history is unwritten. Remember this.”
“The shake that passes will echo. The wave that recedes will come back. The mountain that rumbles will roar.”
“Tell them they can be great someday, like us. Tell them they belong among us, no matter how much we treat them. Tell them they must earn the respect which everyone else receives by default. Tell them there is a standard for acceptance; that standard is simply perfection. Kill those who scoff at these contradictions, and tell the rest that the dead deserved annihilation for their weakness and doubt. Then they’ll break themselves trying for what they’ll never achieve.”
“She must be cold and calm in her anger, lest a lack of self-control be dismissed as the mark of monstrosity.”
“Home is people. […] Home is what you take with you, not what you leave behind.”
“When the reasoning mind is forced to confront the impossible again and again, it has no choice bt to adapt.”
“…neither myths nor mysteries can hold a candle to the most infinitesimal spark of hope.”
“‘I will tear the whole world apart if they ever hurt us again.’ But we would still be hurt, she thinks.”
“Even the hardest stone can fracture. It just takes the right force, applied at the right junction of angles. A fulcrum of pressure and weakness.”
About twice a year I get in the mood for some serious romance. And by that I do not mean the sweet kind - I mean the trashy, explicitly sex-infused, not the world's best writing sort of romance. Some people cuddle up with cozy mystery stories when they get in this mood...I go for something a little different. I chose this series because I have read other books by Christina Lauren that have been legitimately good contemporary romance. The type of romance that, while still getting you a little weak in the knees, is also ok to read in public (i.e. - Love and Other Words). I can say for sure that this comes nowhere close to LaOW in quality. And, since this came first, I can say with complete confidence that this pair have absolutely grown as authors. Regardless, this was, in fact, exactly what I needed right now. A little raucous love-making with a thin background plot and the beginnings of a relationship that are most definitely not very healthy. I did, in fact, almost stop reading after the first couple chapters because I was worried that the alpha male thing here was seriously just too much/the woman too "weak." But it was fast going so I decided to push through. And I do have to say that things got better. The guy learned some lessons and the girl grew a little bit of a backbone. Although it's definitely not anything that could be considered "feminist," by any stretch of the imagination, and the writing/dialogue did get cringe-worthy at some points, this book did fit the quick (I read it in one sitting), steamy, guilty pleasure unrealistic fantasy-inducing type book I was looking for. It's not high literature....but I read a lot of that and sometimes I need a break. Plus, I did like a few small things, like the back and forth POV between both the guy and girl - two-sided insecurity is much better than one-sided insecurity. If you go in with the right mind-set, this fills the "I need a palate-cleanser" hole.
This may be the hardest review that I've ever written...mainly because I'm not even sure it's possible to put into words my thoughts on this book. It just was. And partially that's because it was much more metaphysical than I was expecting, for it having been on the NYT Bestseller list. There was so much exploration and introspection and it took me so long to get through because this isn't a book you can just read. You have to concentrate so hard you end up inside the book yourself. Right now, I cannot even remember the book I read before this, I am that lost. The story itself was heartbreaking. Theo, as a boy, loses the one good thing in his life and spends the rest of his life dealing with it. There were failings in so many parts of his life that led him to where he ended up, but it's also not something that's easy to place blame for. As Boris says in the end, perhaps good and bad decisions don't necessarily always lead to good and bad outcomes, respectively. Maybe the lines aren't that cut and dry. Maybe everyone has to draw their own lines for themselves. And the painting. It was a beautiful metaphor for so many parts of this book, both physically and metaphysically. It became it's own character, pulled it's own weight in the plot. And each character was so real, so developed and played their role so well. Pippa and Hobie and Andy and Mrs. Barbour and Xandra. And Boris. Boris was superb. This was such an impressively realized, developed, book. I gave it the 3 stars because it just wasn't my favorite, just isn't my ideal style. But for someone who lives for this type of novel...this was it. This was all of it.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
“Does such a thing as 'the fatal flaw,' that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.”
This book has been on my TBR list for years. I’ve never seen it receive anything other than high praise, and the reaction I have gotten in the past upon mentioning to those that have read it that I have not, in fact, done so is always along the lines of “Then go read it right now! You must! It’s life changing!” I’ve been hesitant to pick it up though because, and this may be an unpopular opinion, I read The Goldfinch a few years ago when it came out and I was not completely sold on its amazingness, despite most other reviews and opinions. And that’s not to say I didn’t recognize the talent and abilities of the author, or that I wasn’t impressed with what the book addressed…it’s just that it wasn’t for me. So, I was unsure about starting this one, because if the style just wasn’t for me, than that would probably affect my feelings on this book as well. I hemmed and hawed for years about this, and put off reading. But then recently I had a great idea. I mean, I thought it was good at the time and it did, in fact turn out that way (success!). I decided to try this as an audiobook! Maybe the existential and philosophical slow-downs that I experienced with The Goldfinch could be overcome by having someone else read it to me. I didn’t even know this before I started, but Tartt actually narrates this one herself and she SLAYS. Seriously, I’m adding a whole star to this review just for her voice reading it to me. But I’m also getting a little ahead of myself. Let me do this right. Here’s my review…
First, a little synopsis. This is a weird one to write about. The central event is revealed so early in the book that I feel like it’s not really a spoiler to mention it here. Like literally, it’s in the opening line. But at the same time, no other blurb for this book mentions anything specific (to be fair, I only checked Amazon and Goodreads, but they are the big ones, so I stopped there), so I guess I won’t either. Suffice it to say that this book is about a group of 6 students at an elite college in Vermont. They are studying primarily under the tutelage of an enigmatic, and kind of mysterious, Classics professor…excessively (weirdly) isolated from the rest of the school by their insular studies and aloof, “cleverer than you” personalities. With such an intense educational focus on Greek society of the distant history, they find a “way of living,” in the footsteps of the ancients, that allows them a moment of complete escape from the reality of the present-day lives. But this moment ends with them having done something completely outside the boundaries of contemporary morality…and changes the course of their stories forever. As they work together (and separately) to cover it up and move past it, the question of how far things will go is one with an answer that will shock.
If I haven’t already mentioned it - I have a lot of feels about this book. And this is likely to be a long review. I hope you stick with me for it all. It fits with the book, which was a 22 hour listen…so quite an undertaking. But no hard feelings if you don’t! Anyways, I want to start by just saying how impressed I am with Tartt’s writing. This is, without a doubt, one of the most intellectual books I have ever read. And for it to be mixed into a book that, technically, could also be categorized as a thriller (as far as the “mystery” and psychological twists), is just really something. I don’t even really have a word for it. The fact that, despite knowing what is coming, the foreshadowing and build-up of tension around the why/how details were so gripping is extraordinary. Honestly, my favorite part of this entire book was how atmospheric and transporting it was. I literally felt like I was there, at Hampden college, seeing the falling leaves in the autumn, feeling the freezing winds in the winter, and slowing being absorbed into this special little group of budding intellectuals, too broody and self-absorbed and pretentious for their own good (OMG the ennui was out of control), but still so compelling and forceful. I found myself, alongside Richard (our narrator and newest member of the group), wanting to do nothing more than overlook their flaws and be welcomed into the “gang.” In fact, more than once after a long drive of getting pulled deep into the story, I would get out of the car and, thinking back on what I’d just listened to, be surprised at how reasonable I found the discussions/situations/reactions, under the circumstances. Because after leaving their world behind, I’d know how outrageous they were being. Yet, the next time I was in the car, the same thing would happen again. Basically, all this to say that Tartt’s way with words created a setting, cast of characters, and plot that, despite all my intentions, completely messed with my sense of equilibrium of right and wrong. And I have nothing but respect for her ability to do that.
The other thing that impressed me most with this novel was the way Tartt so deeply explored the way the group’s logical thought processes got them to the point where they committed the acts that they did. I mean, disregarding the decisions that led to the first “mistake” (and believe me, I know there’s a lot to unpack there as well), the development of the choices they make afterwards, the “there’s no going back now” road that they find themselves on, is incredibly cerebral. And it’s terrifying. The cold-blooded and emotion-less logic that informs and defends their decisions is frightening. And even though some of them struggle (mightily) emotionally with the situations, the ones that don’t struggle, and the willingness of the others to follow anyways, is chilling. Relatedly, I was fascinated by the extensive consideration paid to “post-” stress and mental states of our characters. There is just so much psychological insight. And the look at group dynamics is also phenomenal, both in terms of the “before,” when everyone is united, close and exclusive, and the “after,” when things start to splinter and suspicions and blame fester. Honestly, just exceptional.
I have a couple other thoughts that are a little less cohesive, but I want to record, for posterity if nothing else. First, when the heck did these kids go to class? I mean, it was a hefty focus at the beginning of the book, but towards the second half, when things really heat up, there is almost an entire semester of school during when they are dealing with crazy “extracurricular” issues, excessive drug/alcohol use, sleep schedules that are in no way conducive to normally scheduled classes, among other things, and really rarely is it mentioned that their single professor is wondering what’s up and why their quality of work and attention is slipping. I know, it was a strange and insular educational situation, but still. Also, I really liked what the epilogue did, showing that, no matter how exclusive and special you are (or think you are) in college, real life hits everyone the same way. Each of the remaining characters, at the end, are struggling with the mundanity of real life. And none of them are handling it particularly well, or overly successfully. Except, perhaps, our narrator, Richard. But even still, the way that Tartt points out how not everyone can handle the long-lasting mental effects of their youthful “indiscretions,” nor can everyone adjust to not being special, is sobering. Last, oh my goodness, Henry! Why he did what he did at the end (no spoilers, promise!)…I just don’t know what to think. If you have thoughts, I would love to hear them. I’m still reeling and can’t figure it out in line with his other thoughts/actions. On the topic of Henry, I loved him as a character. And I think at the end, when Tartt compares him to Sherlock Holmes (the “real” one, with above average intelligence, a tendency to drugs, and a boredom with “normal” living) is the most spot on descriptions that I could have thought of, on many levels.
I made a note in my phone, while reading, saying this was a “super slow burn and wildly intellectual thriller,” which, if you allow me to quote myself, really sums up my feelings on this book more succinctly than anything I’ve written so far. This book had the style of writing and story development that is not my favorite, but listening to it really helped overcome that barrier. Otherwise, considering that none of the characters was actually likable in any way (though those are always the most interesting to read about, when done well, as is clear in this case), I could not help but like this book more than I expected to. And definitely more than The Goldfinch. Although I recommend this one with caveats, like making sure this style is something you are into, or at least currently in the mood for, I do, in fact, recommend it. And so to that end, thank you to everyone who pushed me to read it. Although perhaps not life-changing nor a new favorite of all time, it was absolutely worth the, not inconsiderable, time.
“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely?”
“Some things are too terrible to grasp at once. Other things - naked, sputtering, indelible in their horror - are too terrible to really grasp ever at all. It is only later, in solitude, in memory that the realization dawns: when the ashes are cold; when the mourners have departed; when one looks around and finds oneself - quite to one's surprise - in an entirely different world.”
“Any action, in the fullness of time, sinks to nothingness.”
“Does such a thing as 'the fatal flaw,' that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.”
This book has been on my TBR list for years. I’ve never seen it receive anything other than high praise, and the reaction I have gotten in the past upon mentioning to those that have read it that I have not, in fact, done so is always along the lines of “Then go read it right now! You must! It’s life changing!” I’ve been hesitant to pick it up though because, and this may be an unpopular opinion, I read The Goldfinch a few years ago when it came out and I was not completely sold on its amazingness, despite most other reviews and opinions. And that’s not to say I didn’t recognize the talent and abilities of the author, or that I wasn’t impressed with what the book addressed…it’s just that it wasn’t for me. So, I was unsure about starting this one, because if the style just wasn’t for me, than that would probably affect my feelings on this book as well. I hemmed and hawed for years about this, and put off reading. But then recently I had a great idea. I mean, I thought it was good at the time and it did, in fact turn out that way (success!). I decided to try this as an audiobook! Maybe the existential and philosophical slow-downs that I experienced with The Goldfinch could be overcome by having someone else read it to me. I didn’t even know this before I started, but Tartt actually narrates this one herself and she SLAYS. Seriously, I’m adding a whole star to this review just for her voice reading it to me. But I’m also getting a little ahead of myself. Let me do this right. Here’s my review…
First, a little synopsis. This is a weird one to write about. The central event is revealed so early in the book that I feel like it’s not really a spoiler to mention it here. Like literally, it’s in the opening line. But at the same time, no other blurb for this book mentions anything specific (to be fair, I only checked Amazon and Goodreads, but they are the big ones, so I stopped there), so I guess I won’t either. Suffice it to say that this book is about a group of 6 students at an elite college in Vermont. They are studying primarily under the tutelage of an enigmatic, and kind of mysterious, Classics professor…excessively (weirdly) isolated from the rest of the school by their insular studies and aloof, “cleverer than you” personalities. With such an intense educational focus on Greek society of the distant history, they find a “way of living,” in the footsteps of the ancients, that allows them a moment of complete escape from the reality of the present-day lives. But this moment ends with them having done something completely outside the boundaries of contemporary morality…and changes the course of their stories forever. As they work together (and separately) to cover it up and move past it, the question of how far things will go is one with an answer that will shock.
If I haven’t already mentioned it - I have a lot of feels about this book. And this is likely to be a long review. I hope you stick with me for it all. It fits with the book, which was a 22 hour listen…so quite an undertaking. But no hard feelings if you don’t! Anyways, I want to start by just saying how impressed I am with Tartt’s writing. This is, without a doubt, one of the most intellectual books I have ever read. And for it to be mixed into a book that, technically, could also be categorized as a thriller (as far as the “mystery” and psychological twists), is just really something. I don’t even really have a word for it. The fact that, despite knowing what is coming, the foreshadowing and build-up of tension around the why/how details were so gripping is extraordinary. Honestly, my favorite part of this entire book was how atmospheric and transporting it was. I literally felt like I was there, at Hampden college, seeing the falling leaves in the autumn, feeling the freezing winds in the winter, and slowing being absorbed into this special little group of budding intellectuals, too broody and self-absorbed and pretentious for their own good (OMG the ennui was out of control), but still so compelling and forceful. I found myself, alongside Richard (our narrator and newest member of the group), wanting to do nothing more than overlook their flaws and be welcomed into the “gang.” In fact, more than once after a long drive of getting pulled deep into the story, I would get out of the car and, thinking back on what I’d just listened to, be surprised at how reasonable I found the discussions/situations/reactions, under the circumstances. Because after leaving their world behind, I’d know how outrageous they were being. Yet, the next time I was in the car, the same thing would happen again. Basically, all this to say that Tartt’s way with words created a setting, cast of characters, and plot that, despite all my intentions, completely messed with my sense of equilibrium of right and wrong. And I have nothing but respect for her ability to do that.
The other thing that impressed me most with this novel was the way Tartt so deeply explored the way the group’s logical thought processes got them to the point where they committed the acts that they did. I mean, disregarding the decisions that led to the first “mistake” (and believe me, I know there’s a lot to unpack there as well), the development of the choices they make afterwards, the “there’s no going back now” road that they find themselves on, is incredibly cerebral. And it’s terrifying. The cold-blooded and emotion-less logic that informs and defends their decisions is frightening. And even though some of them struggle (mightily) emotionally with the situations, the ones that don’t struggle, and the willingness of the others to follow anyways, is chilling. Relatedly, I was fascinated by the extensive consideration paid to “post-” stress and mental states of our characters. There is just so much psychological insight. And the look at group dynamics is also phenomenal, both in terms of the “before,” when everyone is united, close and exclusive, and the “after,” when things start to splinter and suspicions and blame fester. Honestly, just exceptional.
I have a couple other thoughts that are a little less cohesive, but I want to record, for posterity if nothing else. First, when the heck did these kids go to class? I mean, it was a hefty focus at the beginning of the book, but towards the second half, when things really heat up, there is almost an entire semester of school during when they are dealing with crazy “extracurricular” issues, excessive drug/alcohol use, sleep schedules that are in no way conducive to normally scheduled classes, among other things, and really rarely is it mentioned that their single professor is wondering what’s up and why their quality of work and attention is slipping. I know, it was a strange and insular educational situation, but still. Also, I really liked what the epilogue did, showing that, no matter how exclusive and special you are (or think you are) in college, real life hits everyone the same way. Each of the remaining characters, at the end, are struggling with the mundanity of real life. And none of them are handling it particularly well, or overly successfully. Except, perhaps, our narrator, Richard. But even still, the way that Tartt points out how not everyone can handle the long-lasting mental effects of their youthful “indiscretions,” nor can everyone adjust to not being special, is sobering. Last, oh my goodness, Henry! Why he did what he did at the end (no spoilers, promise!)…I just don’t know what to think. If you have thoughts, I would love to hear them. I’m still reeling and can’t figure it out in line with his other thoughts/actions. On the topic of Henry, I loved him as a character. And I think at the end, when Tartt compares him to Sherlock Holmes (the “real” one, with above average intelligence, a tendency to drugs, and a boredom with “normal” living) is the most spot on descriptions that I could have thought of, on many levels.
I made a note in my phone, while reading, saying this was a “super slow burn and wildly intellectual thriller,” which, if you allow me to quote myself, really sums up my feelings on this book more succinctly than anything I’ve written so far. This book had the style of writing and story development that is not my favorite, but listening to it really helped overcome that barrier. Otherwise, considering that none of the characters was actually likable in any way (though those are always the most interesting to read about, when done well, as is clear in this case), I could not help but like this book more than I expected to. And definitely more than The Goldfinch. Although I recommend this one with caveats, like making sure this style is something you are into, or at least currently in the mood for, I do, in fact, recommend it. And so to that end, thank you to everyone who pushed me to read it. Although perhaps not life-changing nor a new favorite of all time, it was absolutely worth the, not inconsiderable, time.
“It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely?”
“Some things are too terrible to grasp at once. Other things - naked, sputtering, indelible in their horror - are too terrible to really grasp ever at all. It is only later, in solitude, in memory that the realization dawns: when the ashes are cold; when the mourners have departed; when one looks around and finds oneself - quite to one's surprise - in an entirely different world.”
“Any action, in the fullness of time, sinks to nothingness.”
Liked this one better than the first one, for sure! I think the writing came a little more into it's own - the dialogue between the main romance characters was more natural. I mean, still fake-ish romance novel stuff, but definitely smoother and less stilted. Also, I like that we got lots of cameos from Chloe and Bennett from the first one - it's a fun way to keep things tied together and to give some insight into how things are going for the old main characters, but still be able to read the books as standalones if that's what you want. Same as the first one, I like that we get both main character POVs (I like that WAY more than one-sided POV romance tellings). And I liked that there was an increase in the side character stories/girl talk/other relationships in this one. The "quirks" of these characters were also something that I have never seen before in a romance, exploring voyeurism, and I liked that it wasn't as run of the mill as normal. Still cheesy and low-brow, lots of smut, but definitely better (and much healthier, IMO - in fact, the man interest bordered on positive masculinity, as male leads in romance novels go) than the first.
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Again, the writing just keeps improving. Other than that, this one was very different from the others. There was a lot more focus on the emotional aspect of things, as opposed to the purely physical. There was a lot of past emotional trauma that made this relationship move in fits and starts and, not to say that wasn't there in the others, but it was just different in this one. While the steamy parts were wonderfully so, they were not as raunchy as in the past and were deep in a different sort of way. Also, the act of sex itself was handled very differently here. It's not my favorite of the series, but it was a refreshing different look, mixing things up a little bit. And I enjoyed it. The cameos from old main characters remain fun, though this particular book had a very icky side character, worse than in any of the others (but realistic....ugh). And again, I really love that all these books are told from both POVs - one of my favorite things about the series.
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
This one has been on my TBR for a few months. When it was almost chosen as by my long-distance book club last month, I took it as a sign that I should move it up to the top of my list. Plus, this is perfect for my goal of reading more diverse authors and learning about experiences other than my own.
Julia is the daughter of Mexican immigrants, living in a low socioeconomic area of Chicago, and struggling to deal with her parents’ expectations, stressing about how to achieve her own dreams, worrying about how to connect with the boy she has a crush on, and mourning to sudden loss of her “perfect” older sister. So basically, she has all the “normal” problems that teenagers deal with, plus the extra issues of losing someone close to her, undocumented parents and restrictive cultural norms, and more.
There were a lot of things about this book that I absolutely loved. First, and most important, the way this book addresses and deals with mental health is spectacular. Julia is under pressure for so many things, some of which are universal for people her age, while others are extra. And over time, the lack of support and healthy coping mechanisms leads to a deepening depression and anxiety that eventually come to a head. I don’t want to give away too much, but I have to say that the build-up was composed with wonderfully realistic pacing. And afterwards, I loved how equally presented the benefits of both therapy and medication are. I also really appreciated the acknowledgement that mental health is, essentially, a forever struggle, but it is totally and completely possible to control it instead of letting it control you. These are such taboo topics, both in this country in general and in particular for the religious and cultural sub-populations that Julia exists within. So this recognition is critical. In addition, there is an important message about the power of taking the time to see and learn other people’s perspectives, and the understanding and patience it can give you. This is particularly well done when played against the typical teenage self-centeredness that Julia does tend to display. The author does a wonderful job making both situations, self-centeredness and understanding, similarly genuine and valid.
Some other random things that I liked included the use of Spanish throughout. Something that was different in this book than normal though, is that not every use of Spanish was followed by a translation or rewording in English. There were a number of times that you either had to know what the word meant already, pick it up from context clues, or just straight up look up online. This natural bilingual-ness in text and dialogue rang incredibly true for me. And the assumption of it being included in American language/culture, so instinctively, was symbolically on point. I also loved the little infusion of telenovela-like drama (like with Olga’s secrets). It made the reading experience a little bit more frivolous, in light of the seriousness of the rest of the themes. On the other hand, there were a couple things that didn’t sit exactly right with me, including what seemed like the rushed state of Julia’s “recovery.” Also, I feel like the author tried to address too many topics. I’m not saying all of those issues wouldn’t be present in Julia’s life or experiences, but for a 300-page novel, it was maybe too much to try and fit in while doing justice to each of them and some definitely fell though as a result.
Overall though, this book has so many different stories and types of women who find their own paths to dealing with life and finding success here. There are gorgeous messages about finding and accepting who YOU are and not judging a person’s potential by their “cover.” And it’s a magnificently challenging YA narration that is unforgiving (in a good way) and never backs down in beliefs or critiques.
“It comes in waves for me. Lots of waves. Big, big waves. And I guess I have this feeling, you know? That I’m missing something, that there’s something I should know, but I can’t figure it out.”
“One of the things I hate most in life is people telling me to calm down, as if I’m some out-of-control lunatic who isn’t entitled to have feelings.”
“…I want a library so big that I’ll need a ladder to reach all my books.”
“…I always knew something was wrong; I just didn’t know what it was, that it had an official name.”
“How do we laugh and feel happiness despite the buried things growing inside?”
“I don’t understand why people can’t just let others be who they are.”
“I hate this feeling, the not knowing. The in-between places are scary, but then again, I understand that nothing is ever certain.”
This one has been on my TBR for a few months. When it was almost chosen as by my long-distance book club last month, I took it as a sign that I should move it up to the top of my list. Plus, this is perfect for my goal of reading more diverse authors and learning about experiences other than my own.
Julia is the daughter of Mexican immigrants, living in a low socioeconomic area of Chicago, and struggling to deal with her parents’ expectations, stressing about how to achieve her own dreams, worrying about how to connect with the boy she has a crush on, and mourning to sudden loss of her “perfect” older sister. So basically, she has all the “normal” problems that teenagers deal with, plus the extra issues of losing someone close to her, undocumented parents and restrictive cultural norms, and more.
There were a lot of things about this book that I absolutely loved. First, and most important, the way this book addresses and deals with mental health is spectacular. Julia is under pressure for so many things, some of which are universal for people her age, while others are extra. And over time, the lack of support and healthy coping mechanisms leads to a deepening depression and anxiety that eventually come to a head. I don’t want to give away too much, but I have to say that the build-up was composed with wonderfully realistic pacing. And afterwards, I loved how equally presented the benefits of both therapy and medication are. I also really appreciated the acknowledgement that mental health is, essentially, a forever struggle, but it is totally and completely possible to control it instead of letting it control you. These are such taboo topics, both in this country in general and in particular for the religious and cultural sub-populations that Julia exists within. So this recognition is critical. In addition, there is an important message about the power of taking the time to see and learn other people’s perspectives, and the understanding and patience it can give you. This is particularly well done when played against the typical teenage self-centeredness that Julia does tend to display. The author does a wonderful job making both situations, self-centeredness and understanding, similarly genuine and valid.
Some other random things that I liked included the use of Spanish throughout. Something that was different in this book than normal though, is that not every use of Spanish was followed by a translation or rewording in English. There were a number of times that you either had to know what the word meant already, pick it up from context clues, or just straight up look up online. This natural bilingual-ness in text and dialogue rang incredibly true for me. And the assumption of it being included in American language/culture, so instinctively, was symbolically on point. I also loved the little infusion of telenovela-like drama (like with Olga’s secrets). It made the reading experience a little bit more frivolous, in light of the seriousness of the rest of the themes. On the other hand, there were a couple things that didn’t sit exactly right with me, including what seemed like the rushed state of Julia’s “recovery.” Also, I feel like the author tried to address too many topics. I’m not saying all of those issues wouldn’t be present in Julia’s life or experiences, but for a 300-page novel, it was maybe too much to try and fit in while doing justice to each of them and some definitely fell though as a result.
Overall though, this book has so many different stories and types of women who find their own paths to dealing with life and finding success here. There are gorgeous messages about finding and accepting who YOU are and not judging a person’s potential by their “cover.” And it’s a magnificently challenging YA narration that is unforgiving (in a good way) and never backs down in beliefs or critiques.
“It comes in waves for me. Lots of waves. Big, big waves. And I guess I have this feeling, you know? That I’m missing something, that there’s something I should know, but I can’t figure it out.”
“One of the things I hate most in life is people telling me to calm down, as if I’m some out-of-control lunatic who isn’t entitled to have feelings.”
“…I want a library so big that I’ll need a ladder to reach all my books.”
“…I always knew something was wrong; I just didn’t know what it was, that it had an official name.”
“How do we laugh and feel happiness despite the buried things growing inside?”
“I don’t understand why people can’t just let others be who they are.”
“I hate this feeling, the not knowing. The in-between places are scary, but then again, I understand that nothing is ever certain.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
Last year, I read Every Heart a Doorway and it spoke to me on a level that very few books have. For being as short as it is, there was something that touched my soul in that book. And I’ve recommended it far and wide since then. Considering all the feels I had for that book, I know it’s a little strange that I waited almost a year to read the “next” book. Though technically this one is more a prequel. And really it can be read as a standalone anyways. Regardless, here we are – I made sure to get to it in October because I knew it would be a little darker. And really this is about the level of “scary” that I can handle, which is to say really not much. It is a nice level of gloomy though. Anyways, all that will be covered in the review.
Down Among the Sticks and Bones is the background story of the twins Jack and Jill, two of the main (and most dramatic) characters from Every Heart a Doorway. We start with a glimpse of their childhood and early life. A look that explains, no question, why their “door” opened for them when they were twelve. And after they choose to enter and become residents in the Moors, we watch as the next 5 years of their lives pass. We see them have a chance to make choices based on what they truly want, who they truly are, and not who they were molded to be by their parents. But at the same time we see how those early experiences have marked them, for life, and shape the choices they think they’re making for themselves. It’s incredibly, heartbreakingly, meaningful and symbolic.
First, let me just talk about the writing. McGuire has mastered the art of the fairy tale-like storytelling voice. It’s got that “I’m the teller of this tale” narrator type POV style that is a little bit didactic and also simultaneously fantastical and moral (in the sense that there is a clear moral and the story is meant to teach it to you). It has that same transporting feel that any fairy tale gives you; it’s there in a much darker way, but that doesn’t take away the sense of wonder you get as you read. I don’t know how she walked that line, but it was so very cool. Honestly, I loved the way she built the atmosphere and told the tale with the exact opposite of the happily ever after trope. All in all, nicely gothic. However, take heart, if you’ve read Every Heart a Doorway, you know the twins story ends with their very own perfectly twisted happily ever after. Plus, there are clear references to/restructurings of the myths around Dracula and Frankenstein. The way they are recognizable but recreated adds a little extra fun to the reading experience. And last, the way that gender and sexuality are fluidly and open-mindedly addressed, like (as it should be) anything goes and is the norm, is one of my favorite things about the writing in this little series. It continues here in beautifully accepting form.
The other thing I love is reminiscent of what hit home for me in Every Heart a Doorway. I felt like the message in that book was one for anyone who has ever felt like they don’t belong – in their skin, in society, in their family, anywhere. It offered an escape and a message of hope that you are not alone and that there is somewhere out there where you can belong (or at least not belong together). That message is continued with strength here. The sarcasm and clear disdain for gender stereotypes, unreasonable parent/societal expectations, caring too much about appearance (and changing everything to meet those expectations/appearances) literally warmed my heart. Like, I heated up while reading it – out of anger at Jack and Jill’s parents, a little, but also out of fuzzy appreciation in my heart for the way McGuire addressed/handled these topics. Honestly, the first parts, before Jack and Jill go through the door, held so many deep truths. It was frustrating and beautiful in equal measure. For being so short, the number of important themes and messages about nature vs nurture and the importance of being allowed to naturally grow into who you are, and how deep the need to love/be loved for that runs (for everyone, though is manifests differently for us all), is astounding. Same as before, the profundity of feeling McGuire packs into in these short novels just gets me.
I said this with the last one and I’ll say it again for this one – read this book. It is so, so worth it.
“I can be easy, when standing on the lofty shores of adulthood, not to remember that every adult was once a child, with ideas and ambitions of their own. It can be easy, in the end, to forget that children are people, and that people will do what people will do, consequences be damned.”
“The thought that babies would become children, and children would become people, never occurred to them. The concept that perhaps biology was not destiny, and that not all little girls would be pretty princesses, and not all little boys would be brave soldiers, also never occurred to them.”
“…there were a hundred, a thousand, a million different ways to be a girl, and […] all of them were valid…”
“The trouble with denying children the freedom to be themselves – with forcing them into an idea of what they should be, not allowing them to choose their own paths – is that all too often, the one drawing the design knows nothing of the desires of their model.”
“Children have preferences. The trouble comes when they, as with any human, are denied those preferences for too long. […] Having half of everything she wanted denied to her for so long had left her vulnerable to them…”
“A single revelation does not change a life. It is a start.”
Last year, I read Every Heart a Doorway and it spoke to me on a level that very few books have. For being as short as it is, there was something that touched my soul in that book. And I’ve recommended it far and wide since then. Considering all the feels I had for that book, I know it’s a little strange that I waited almost a year to read the “next” book. Though technically this one is more a prequel. And really it can be read as a standalone anyways. Regardless, here we are – I made sure to get to it in October because I knew it would be a little darker. And really this is about the level of “scary” that I can handle, which is to say really not much. It is a nice level of gloomy though. Anyways, all that will be covered in the review.
Down Among the Sticks and Bones is the background story of the twins Jack and Jill, two of the main (and most dramatic) characters from Every Heart a Doorway. We start with a glimpse of their childhood and early life. A look that explains, no question, why their “door” opened for them when they were twelve. And after they choose to enter and become residents in the Moors, we watch as the next 5 years of their lives pass. We see them have a chance to make choices based on what they truly want, who they truly are, and not who they were molded to be by their parents. But at the same time we see how those early experiences have marked them, for life, and shape the choices they think they’re making for themselves. It’s incredibly, heartbreakingly, meaningful and symbolic.
First, let me just talk about the writing. McGuire has mastered the art of the fairy tale-like storytelling voice. It’s got that “I’m the teller of this tale” narrator type POV style that is a little bit didactic and also simultaneously fantastical and moral (in the sense that there is a clear moral and the story is meant to teach it to you). It has that same transporting feel that any fairy tale gives you; it’s there in a much darker way, but that doesn’t take away the sense of wonder you get as you read. I don’t know how she walked that line, but it was so very cool. Honestly, I loved the way she built the atmosphere and told the tale with the exact opposite of the happily ever after trope. All in all, nicely gothic. However, take heart, if you’ve read Every Heart a Doorway, you know the twins story ends with their very own perfectly twisted happily ever after. Plus, there are clear references to/restructurings of the myths around Dracula and Frankenstein. The way they are recognizable but recreated adds a little extra fun to the reading experience. And last, the way that gender and sexuality are fluidly and open-mindedly addressed, like (as it should be) anything goes and is the norm, is one of my favorite things about the writing in this little series. It continues here in beautifully accepting form.
The other thing I love is reminiscent of what hit home for me in Every Heart a Doorway. I felt like the message in that book was one for anyone who has ever felt like they don’t belong – in their skin, in society, in their family, anywhere. It offered an escape and a message of hope that you are not alone and that there is somewhere out there where you can belong (or at least not belong together). That message is continued with strength here. The sarcasm and clear disdain for gender stereotypes, unreasonable parent/societal expectations, caring too much about appearance (and changing everything to meet those expectations/appearances) literally warmed my heart. Like, I heated up while reading it – out of anger at Jack and Jill’s parents, a little, but also out of fuzzy appreciation in my heart for the way McGuire addressed/handled these topics. Honestly, the first parts, before Jack and Jill go through the door, held so many deep truths. It was frustrating and beautiful in equal measure. For being so short, the number of important themes and messages about nature vs nurture and the importance of being allowed to naturally grow into who you are, and how deep the need to love/be loved for that runs (for everyone, though is manifests differently for us all), is astounding. Same as before, the profundity of feeling McGuire packs into in these short novels just gets me.
I said this with the last one and I’ll say it again for this one – read this book. It is so, so worth it.
“I can be easy, when standing on the lofty shores of adulthood, not to remember that every adult was once a child, with ideas and ambitions of their own. It can be easy, in the end, to forget that children are people, and that people will do what people will do, consequences be damned.”
“The thought that babies would become children, and children would become people, never occurred to them. The concept that perhaps biology was not destiny, and that not all little girls would be pretty princesses, and not all little boys would be brave soldiers, also never occurred to them.”
“…there were a hundred, a thousand, a million different ways to be a girl, and […] all of them were valid…”
“The trouble with denying children the freedom to be themselves – with forcing them into an idea of what they should be, not allowing them to choose their own paths – is that all too often, the one drawing the design knows nothing of the desires of their model.”
“Children have preferences. The trouble comes when they, as with any human, are denied those preferences for too long. […] Having half of everything she wanted denied to her for so long had left her vulnerable to them…”
“A single revelation does not change a life. It is a start.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
I was originally drawn to this book by the cover, which is gorgeous, and then by the description. I am always fascinated to read about beliefs that are different and foreign to my own, specifically in how they look/play out in real life. In addition, this sounds like a really fascinating personal exploration, a book born of the authors’ own experiences with self, and I do get really into fictional accounts of non-fictional events/lives. As a surprise benefit, after checking out the audio version from the library, I realized it was read by the author, which is absolutely one of my favorite things. And this was no exception – the accent and emphases placed throughout the reading added an extra depth that I loved. All in all, this was a lovely listening experience.
Freshwater is the story of Ada, born of her parents’ prayers to whatever gods would listen, and thus marked by those gods who chose to answer her parents prayers with her birth. As Ada grows, she is what would, perhaps, be called a troubled child. And that part of her is only exacerbated over time – developing into entirely separate selves within her single body, that are solidified into something even more powerful after a traumatic experience as a young adult. From then on, Ada struggles with these separate parts of herself, sometimes in control of them, and sometimes retreating behind their control. Spanning continents and years, we watch as Ada deals with this conflict of identity within herself, and how that conflict manifests itself physically/emotionally.
Well, this book is something. It’s something deep and ferocious and frightening and confusing and so, so, intense. The duality of religious/spiritual belief and mental health in this novel is one of the most gorgeously woven double-meanings in literature that I have ever read. This entire novel can be read as an exploration of traditional beliefs, focusing on old gods and spirits (ọgbanje), and the beliefs around them and how they inhabit a body, a mind, and turn it into something evil. On the other hand, it can be read as completely metaphorical, with the ọgbanje as a symbol of the imbalance experience with mental illness or lack of clarity of personal identity. But I think, personally, that the best way to read this is a combination of both – submitting to the traditional beliefs that explain any kind of instability, as well as accepting that the outer signs of that will naturally, now, be read as scientific/medical interpretations of mental illness. It’s a powerful cross-over that makes for an incredibly unique, but also fairly mystifying and complex telling. This is a case in which I would recommend the reader not necessarily focus on the meaning behind each word or phrase or statement, but rather the concept, tone, atmosphere or feelings behind the words. I had some trouble truly getting into the story, buying into the telling, until I let the specifics go. Forget trying to remember what parts of her life different characters are from, which are friend and which have hurt her, or to keep a timeline or inventory of events – just let yourself get lost in the message. That’s not a normal reading style for me, so as I said, it was difficult, but it was absolutely worth it. Once I was able to do that, I became much more invested and appreciative of what I was reading; and the significance of the story, which is profound, hit me that much harder for it.
In addition, some major themes of identity are explored in depth throughout this novel, with a focus on gender and sexuality. I have never, that I know of, read something by a non-binary and bisexual (pansexual?) person that is so clearly autobiographical, and the insight was everything. With lucidity and precision, Emezi illustrates a sensation and process that is anything but lucid and precise. They way that she is able to convey the journey to take her separate identities and do anything from fighting them to submitting to them to uniting them to accepting and giving them all “air time” is discerning and instructive. Although this is by no means an easy read, intellectually, it is one that I think is essential – if you’ve dealt with anything like this, identity-wise, it will show you that you are not alone and for anyone who has not been through this, it is insightful and educational. Similarly, and of note there are many trigger warnings that should accompany this statement, if you have ever been through sexual assault and abuse, self-harm, suicidal ideation/attempts or disassociation from reality of any kind, you’ll find a kindred spirit in this book. If you are looking for that, please read this. If you are not ready for that, definitely stay away until you are emotionally prepared, as there is no holding back, no euphemism, no obfuscation.
Although at times this personal journey is told in a sort of detached or metaphysical way, the focus on sense of self and personal acceptance is told with a raw, devastating voice. Tough to read at times, both in regards to language and subject matter, this is a debut that does not shy away from thorny, challenging realities. Emezi shines a haunting light on so many crises of identity and their courage in sharing parts of their own story in this way is admirable. This is one that I would definitely recommend, but with a warning to come with an open mind to storytelling style and a readiness for philosophical (and supernatural) introspection.
There were many quotes and moments throughout this book that rang deep and true. Here are a selection:
“The world in my head has been far more real than the one outside—maybe that’s the exact definition of madness, come to think of it.”
“When you name something, it comes into existence – did you know that?”
“…I loved her because in the moment of her devastation, the moment she lost her mind, that girl reached for me so hard that she went completely mad, and I loved her because when I flooded through, she spread herself open and took me in without hesitation, bawling and broken, she absorbed me fiercely, all the way; she denied me nothing.”
“The worst part of embodiment is being unseen.”
“Many things are better than a complete remembering.”
“Understand this if you understand nothing: it is a powerful thing to be seen.”
I was originally drawn to this book by the cover, which is gorgeous, and then by the description. I am always fascinated to read about beliefs that are different and foreign to my own, specifically in how they look/play out in real life. In addition, this sounds like a really fascinating personal exploration, a book born of the authors’ own experiences with self, and I do get really into fictional accounts of non-fictional events/lives. As a surprise benefit, after checking out the audio version from the library, I realized it was read by the author, which is absolutely one of my favorite things. And this was no exception – the accent and emphases placed throughout the reading added an extra depth that I loved. All in all, this was a lovely listening experience.
Freshwater is the story of Ada, born of her parents’ prayers to whatever gods would listen, and thus marked by those gods who chose to answer her parents prayers with her birth. As Ada grows, she is what would, perhaps, be called a troubled child. And that part of her is only exacerbated over time – developing into entirely separate selves within her single body, that are solidified into something even more powerful after a traumatic experience as a young adult. From then on, Ada struggles with these separate parts of herself, sometimes in control of them, and sometimes retreating behind their control. Spanning continents and years, we watch as Ada deals with this conflict of identity within herself, and how that conflict manifests itself physically/emotionally.
Well, this book is something. It’s something deep and ferocious and frightening and confusing and so, so, intense. The duality of religious/spiritual belief and mental health in this novel is one of the most gorgeously woven double-meanings in literature that I have ever read. This entire novel can be read as an exploration of traditional beliefs, focusing on old gods and spirits (ọgbanje), and the beliefs around them and how they inhabit a body, a mind, and turn it into something evil. On the other hand, it can be read as completely metaphorical, with the ọgbanje as a symbol of the imbalance experience with mental illness or lack of clarity of personal identity. But I think, personally, that the best way to read this is a combination of both – submitting to the traditional beliefs that explain any kind of instability, as well as accepting that the outer signs of that will naturally, now, be read as scientific/medical interpretations of mental illness. It’s a powerful cross-over that makes for an incredibly unique, but also fairly mystifying and complex telling. This is a case in which I would recommend the reader not necessarily focus on the meaning behind each word or phrase or statement, but rather the concept, tone, atmosphere or feelings behind the words. I had some trouble truly getting into the story, buying into the telling, until I let the specifics go. Forget trying to remember what parts of her life different characters are from, which are friend and which have hurt her, or to keep a timeline or inventory of events – just let yourself get lost in the message. That’s not a normal reading style for me, so as I said, it was difficult, but it was absolutely worth it. Once I was able to do that, I became much more invested and appreciative of what I was reading; and the significance of the story, which is profound, hit me that much harder for it.
In addition, some major themes of identity are explored in depth throughout this novel, with a focus on gender and sexuality. I have never, that I know of, read something by a non-binary and bisexual (pansexual?) person that is so clearly autobiographical, and the insight was everything. With lucidity and precision, Emezi illustrates a sensation and process that is anything but lucid and precise. They way that she is able to convey the journey to take her separate identities and do anything from fighting them to submitting to them to uniting them to accepting and giving them all “air time” is discerning and instructive. Although this is by no means an easy read, intellectually, it is one that I think is essential – if you’ve dealt with anything like this, identity-wise, it will show you that you are not alone and for anyone who has not been through this, it is insightful and educational. Similarly, and of note there are many trigger warnings that should accompany this statement, if you have ever been through sexual assault and abuse, self-harm, suicidal ideation/attempts or disassociation from reality of any kind, you’ll find a kindred spirit in this book. If you are looking for that, please read this. If you are not ready for that, definitely stay away until you are emotionally prepared, as there is no holding back, no euphemism, no obfuscation.
Although at times this personal journey is told in a sort of detached or metaphysical way, the focus on sense of self and personal acceptance is told with a raw, devastating voice. Tough to read at times, both in regards to language and subject matter, this is a debut that does not shy away from thorny, challenging realities. Emezi shines a haunting light on so many crises of identity and their courage in sharing parts of their own story in this way is admirable. This is one that I would definitely recommend, but with a warning to come with an open mind to storytelling style and a readiness for philosophical (and supernatural) introspection.
There were many quotes and moments throughout this book that rang deep and true. Here are a selection:
“The world in my head has been far more real than the one outside—maybe that’s the exact definition of madness, come to think of it.”
“When you name something, it comes into existence – did you know that?”
“…I loved her because in the moment of her devastation, the moment she lost her mind, that girl reached for me so hard that she went completely mad, and I loved her because when I flooded through, she spread herself open and took me in without hesitation, bawling and broken, she absorbed me fiercely, all the way; she denied me nothing.”
“The worst part of embodiment is being unseen.”
“Many things are better than a complete remembering.”
“Understand this if you understand nothing: it is a powerful thing to be seen.”
This review originally appeared on the book review blog: Just One More Pa(i)ge.
This was just one of those books that I knew I wanted to read from the second I saw it. The title and cover drew me in, but the description sealed the deal. I am a huge sucker for magical realism and this story sounded literally perfect. Having just finished, I can confirm that I still love magical realism. And that this an absolutely wonderful book to have procrastinated reading until the Fall. Cozy vibes were everywhere and I loved it!
So, a quick synopsis. When Weylyn was born, a freak snowstorm hit the area…in the middle of June. And things only got stranger from there: raised for a time by wolves, owner of a very special pet pig named Merlin, and potentially in possession of some fantastical weather-related magical powers. Weylyn lives a very different path through life than the average person – a path that brings both immense joy and definite heartbreak. But even though he experiences life in a unique way, there is also no denying the very real connections he forges with others and the heartwarming stories he somehow can’t help but be involved in.
The story is told in multiple sections, jumping through the years as Weylyn grows. It starts when he is a child and first meets the girl who will become the love of his life, Mary. And it continues through his adoption away from his wolf family and into a real family, his time spent wandering, his first years with Mary as an adult, and more. Each section has a couple different narrators. Some we only hear from once and are people that have hand a glancing interaction with Weylyn, while others repeat and are people who are more consistent presences in his life. But most of all, we get to see that, no matter how they interact with him or what type of interaction it is, Weylyn has a special gift that touches each of their life and brings a little something special, wonderful, uplifting to it. Even when he doesn’t know he’s doing it. It was a fascinating and really very sweet way to read about the main character – never actually hearing from himself, but watching your picture of him grow as you hear how everyone else sees and interacts with him. I really enjoyed the reading experience of learning about Weylyn’s isms through the voices, experiences, and intuitions of others. And I love that, at the very end, we finally had a chance (albeit short) to see through his own eyes.
From the very first page, the story itself was full of the perfect sort of magical realism. Just a hint (or maybe a little more) of magic in otherwise “normal” lives/realities. And in this particular case, I loved the way it was so closely intertwined with nature – Weylyn’s special bond with flora and fauna, the way what carried over to Mary and the other people in his life, and just in general I find nature-based magic to be particularly enchanting. In addition, I know I mentioned this earlier, but I seriously cannot remember the last time I read a book that was this heartwarming. Everything about it read like fairy-tale folklore of the most charming variety. Weylyn himself is almost an impossibly endearing character, so it follows that all the interactions he has are equally delightful. His childlike glee stays with him throughout his life and, even during the parts that are more serious, or in which he definitely shows more adult-like (read: melancholier) emotions, there is still that little bubble of naivete that gives you hope for a happy ending. And though I am normally not one for spoilers, this book does have the most perfect little ending. Exactly right for the atmosphere and magic of the rest of the story.
If you are looking for something fun, light, adorable and, I’ll say it again, heartwarming, I highly recommend this book. I teared up about 6 times reading the last 50 pages, all in the best ways, and, when I turned the last page, I was left feeling so full of warmth and contentment. This is one of those books that, after you’re done, you look at the world with news eyes and everything holds just a little more promise than it did before.
“‘Why do you do that?’ ‘Do what?’ “Take something beautiful and vandalize it with skepticism?’” – THIS is something I think a lot of us should take to heart.
“In that moment, I could feel the sand between my toes, water on my skin. I saw the sun melt into the water until everything was starry and purple.”
“I wasn’t doing magic, but I was in it, surrounded on all sides by incredible, beautiful things. It made me feel like a wizard even though I wasn’t one, even though I could never be one.” – THAT
spoke to my soul.
“I’ve been called magic, but I wouldn’t use that term exactly. I like to think of myself as always being in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the wrong time. Very rarely am I simply in an acceptable place at a generally convenient time. That said, I find those rare occasions very pleasant...”
This was just one of those books that I knew I wanted to read from the second I saw it. The title and cover drew me in, but the description sealed the deal. I am a huge sucker for magical realism and this story sounded literally perfect. Having just finished, I can confirm that I still love magical realism. And that this an absolutely wonderful book to have procrastinated reading until the Fall. Cozy vibes were everywhere and I loved it!
So, a quick synopsis. When Weylyn was born, a freak snowstorm hit the area…in the middle of June. And things only got stranger from there: raised for a time by wolves, owner of a very special pet pig named Merlin, and potentially in possession of some fantastical weather-related magical powers. Weylyn lives a very different path through life than the average person – a path that brings both immense joy and definite heartbreak. But even though he experiences life in a unique way, there is also no denying the very real connections he forges with others and the heartwarming stories he somehow can’t help but be involved in.
The story is told in multiple sections, jumping through the years as Weylyn grows. It starts when he is a child and first meets the girl who will become the love of his life, Mary. And it continues through his adoption away from his wolf family and into a real family, his time spent wandering, his first years with Mary as an adult, and more. Each section has a couple different narrators. Some we only hear from once and are people that have hand a glancing interaction with Weylyn, while others repeat and are people who are more consistent presences in his life. But most of all, we get to see that, no matter how they interact with him or what type of interaction it is, Weylyn has a special gift that touches each of their life and brings a little something special, wonderful, uplifting to it. Even when he doesn’t know he’s doing it. It was a fascinating and really very sweet way to read about the main character – never actually hearing from himself, but watching your picture of him grow as you hear how everyone else sees and interacts with him. I really enjoyed the reading experience of learning about Weylyn’s isms through the voices, experiences, and intuitions of others. And I love that, at the very end, we finally had a chance (albeit short) to see through his own eyes.
From the very first page, the story itself was full of the perfect sort of magical realism. Just a hint (or maybe a little more) of magic in otherwise “normal” lives/realities. And in this particular case, I loved the way it was so closely intertwined with nature – Weylyn’s special bond with flora and fauna, the way what carried over to Mary and the other people in his life, and just in general I find nature-based magic to be particularly enchanting. In addition, I know I mentioned this earlier, but I seriously cannot remember the last time I read a book that was this heartwarming. Everything about it read like fairy-tale folklore of the most charming variety. Weylyn himself is almost an impossibly endearing character, so it follows that all the interactions he has are equally delightful. His childlike glee stays with him throughout his life and, even during the parts that are more serious, or in which he definitely shows more adult-like (read: melancholier) emotions, there is still that little bubble of naivete that gives you hope for a happy ending. And though I am normally not one for spoilers, this book does have the most perfect little ending. Exactly right for the atmosphere and magic of the rest of the story.
If you are looking for something fun, light, adorable and, I’ll say it again, heartwarming, I highly recommend this book. I teared up about 6 times reading the last 50 pages, all in the best ways, and, when I turned the last page, I was left feeling so full of warmth and contentment. This is one of those books that, after you’re done, you look at the world with news eyes and everything holds just a little more promise than it did before.
“‘Why do you do that?’ ‘Do what?’ “Take something beautiful and vandalize it with skepticism?’” – THIS is something I think a lot of us should take to heart.
“In that moment, I could feel the sand between my toes, water on my skin. I saw the sun melt into the water until everything was starry and purple.”
“I wasn’t doing magic, but I was in it, surrounded on all sides by incredible, beautiful things. It made me feel like a wizard even though I wasn’t one, even though I could never be one.” – THAT
spoke to my soul.
“I’ve been called magic, but I wouldn’t use that term exactly. I like to think of myself as always being in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the wrong time. Very rarely am I simply in an acceptable place at a generally convenient time. That said, I find those rare occasions very pleasant...”