I had high hopes because I love Greco-Roman stuff, and probably would’ve minored in Classics if I could’ve. My main complaint stems from the fact that this book was organized thematically rather than chronologically, which made for a lot of meandering and repetition. I also was a little confused by and skeptical of the seemingly arbitrary decision as to which primary/secondary sources were considered credible (as evidenced by the unexplained mix of rebuttal, qualification, subjunctive tense, and straight past tense), and honestly the whole thing just felt kind of self-indulgent. Ultimately, this book was just way too long.

Maybe 3.5 stars, but only because I'm rating the book as a whole more than as the sum of its parts - otherwise it would've been 2.5 at most.

The beginning was vivid and engaging, and the ending was mostly-satisfyingly open (but verging on cliche and too feel-good, while failing to resolve certain issues that needed closure, including Imogene and Jessa's fight/friendship in general). Overall the story was interesting, and the characters were relatable if not always likable or their motives justifiable. I was rather disappointed that the only close relationships (Imogene and each of her parents, Imogene and Jessa, and to some degree Imogene and Lindy; don't even get me started on Jessa and Chad) didn't include a single dependable, healthy one - Imogene spent most of the book talking crap about everyone including herself, only to do an abrupt about-face to "oh well, nobody's perfect so I love everybody" which was at odds with both the overall tone and the themes of mental illness and tough decisions.

The form is not only unique but changes the meaning of the work, but while it’s definitely really interesting I felt it went a little over my head. Which is fine — you don’t have to fully understand the form/content to appreciate it — though it might detract from your enjoyment of and/or relation to it, as was the case for me.

Possibly 2.5 stars for later scenes, specifically that air-clearing argument between Pearl and May.

Throughout the book I kept thinking that the narrator was telling rather than showing; it’s clear that a lot of good research was done and displayed through the immense detail, but I felt distant from characters, setting, and plot alike. (Third-person limited POV, told in the past tense to account for the rationalization and foreshadowing of various developments, might have worked better, in this case.)

It reads like a middle-grade novel in its simplified themes (the Chinese/American binary, clinging to sisterhood as an unbreakable “forever” bond, whether May or Pearl is Joy’s “real” mother, Pearl’s sudden shift to believing wholeheartedly in the Chinese zodiac, etc), spelling-out of the significance of certain scenes (e.g., Pearl’s outburst after Sam’s death being explained away by Pearl herself as misdirected grief), certain stereotypes and overused tropes/cliches of the genre, and various surface-level minutiae that paint a picture but don’t necessarily add to the story. There were only brief moments of suspense; the majority of the narrative drags, and I can barely sympathize with the emotions Pearl says she’s experiencing. (Also with Pearl — I was put off from the first mention of her “perfect” English.)

So yeah, yay for Chinese and Chinese-American representation, but this isn’t the best example thereof.

While I enjoyed the premise and realistically relatable characters, I honestly didn’t like this book very much. It read like a middle grade novel: simplistic syntax with an excess of adverbs that bogged down the (many) action scenes.

Even knowing this is meant to be a different version of Bruce Wayne’s story, it didn’t feel like the character I grew up loving — the major similarities seemed superficial; while eighteen-year-old Bruce Wayne is naturally a significantly different character from the classic adult Batman, it just seems a stretch. (Although it’s mentioned that Bruce enjoys working with technology, the gadgets he actually uses in this book were all developed by others at WayneTech; despite the time that would hopefully heal the sharp pain of his parents’ murder, his recurring proclamations of grief seemed more habitual than spontaneous.)

Furthermore, I was disappointed in the black-and-white, us-vs-them morality that pervaded the novel to the end. Despite many opportunities to explore his own values and morals, as well as Gotham’s flaws, Bruce seems more idealistic, even naive, in his determination to defend the city as-is — which undermines Madeleine’s alleged influence on him and possibly reduces her to the archetypical antiheroic love interest. (Don’t even get me started on archetypes and tropes; even for a superhero novel there were way too many.)