peeled_grape's reviews
146 reviews

Mixed feelings about this collection. "The Tower," "Song for the Unraveling of the World" and "Shirts and Skins" probably round out my top three. "The Cardiacs" is really short, but I really liked that one. I think that Evenson's flash fiction is probably the most original and refreshing to read. This was also a great collection for me to read as a writer -- I've felt pressured to write something the length of Kelly Link's stories, but always find that a bit daunting, so it is cool to see a collection of 10-page stories. These stories also mix genre fiction in them, which I also like to see.

On the other hand: I feel like a lot of these stories rely on stereotypes and clichés. "Born Stillborn" has a character with mental illness who is violent because of it; "Trigger Warnings" would have been my favorite if it didn't imply that real trigger warnings are ridiculous and superabundant. (The FORM of "Trigger Warnings," though. And the humor. It was so close to being so great, and then he had to title it "Trigger Warnings.") Other times, it's like "ahh, a possession!" or "ahh, murderer!" and I feel like horror can be so much more creative than that, especially literary horror. "Sisters" ends with "and then we ate her for dinner!" which just felt cheap. We've done that before, let's try something new. I think that many of these stories were really excellent, but others fell into worn-out storylines.

Jesus Christ. This novel. It rivals "The Road" as far as depressing content goes, though this one is more heartbreaking and less bleak, I'd say. It is as much the way the story is told as the plot itself. The narrator is entirely unaware of her own pain, considering herself fortunate in situations that are horrible: for example, when she is struck by lightning (which happens in the first 20 pages so it's not a spoiler), she expresses gratitude that the sky chose her to touch. It's so unfortunate that it is a little outlandish, at first, but then it moves into a less episodic style, and starts to really take form. It's terrible! And you should definitely do something fun and light after reading this! But there are some moments in here that are really stunning and dark all at once, and it's worth reading this just for those moments.

At the moment, I'm mostly reading things as a writer -- what can I use, what do I like, where does my own style fit into all this, etc. I read "Especially Heinous" and "In the Dream House" earlier this year and thought that Machado and I had the exact same style/interests (and was genuinely worried about it), but she's more Kelly Link and I'm more Brian Evenson/Samanta Schweblin. Not disappointing, but surprising. Machado's stories are saturated with detail; they revel in themselves for quite a bit of time before "starting." (I cannot picture writing something with this much detail, so I am a little impressed/daunted by it, in a mostly good way.) I do think "Especially Heinous" is the best story here. I loved it so much I asked our Arts Desk if I could write a book review article just to talk about it. TL;DR: Read "Especially Heinous," if nothing else.

Machado is really good at form. See, again: "Especially Heinous," but also "Inventory" and "The Husband Stitch." I'm starting to think that messing with form is my primary interest, and Machado is so fluid with form. I thought she was going to pull an Ogawa and connect the last two stories by some thin thread, but if it was connected, I couldn't tell. Reading this entire collection was interesting -- I expected more external horror than characters experiencing some form of intense anxiety or outright madness. I read "In the Dream House" first, and I can tell these stories are deeply personal and, as Machado seems to hint in "The Resident," a concealed autobiography. ("Mothers" is even more depressing after reading "Dream House.") Anyway, these are all well done, though I don't feel I have a ton to say about them.

I couldn't get through this, and when I say "it's not you, it's me" I mean it with this book. The stories are lovely, really. Inexplicably hard to get through, though -- these are drenched in detail, spend a lot of time meandering, and spend a lot of time between characters/side experience. It's a combination of the length of these stories, the fact that it is a short story collection, and the fact that it builds with no real release that made this so hard to get through. I will finish it! But it's almost been a month and I need to move on.

These stories remind me of bedtime stories. They have the same winding and lightly magical qualities. Hard to follow for the distractible (so, me). I originally picked this up because Carmen Maria Machado cited Oyeyemi as an influence, but this reminds me more of Lindsey Drager's stuff (though that's still not a perfect match). Machado probably cites her for the detail. Of the ones I read, "presence" and "books and roses" were my favorites. "presence" started to go toward horror, but it felt too warm and light for that. Again, bedtime-story vibes. All perfectly lovely stories, but nothing insanely striking.

Ohhhhhh my god. There is no writer whose work I admire more than Carmen Maria Machado's. This is nonfiction, so it's not quite the same as reading her fiction, but her style is all over this, which means I still highly recommend this for people who've read her other work. The form is incredible -- playing with the chapter/section headings in this was so smart. I feel like I should have a lot more to say about this, but the truth is that it is endearingly honest and captivating. It's a narrative that doesn't have all the answers, and is somehow more complete that way. Read this. It is so important.

This book begins: "If you need this book, it is for you." I am not quite the person Machado had in mind while writing this, but it is for me all the same. I simultaneously want this book nowhere near me and want it within arm's reach at all times. When I read, I often mark things I like with flag post-its (mostly to avoid highlighting the text or making pen notes in the margins), and I have never marked so many things in any book, ever. This is a narrative that validates so many others. In other words, I was deeply moved.

This book had me from the first page. It is so bizarre. I deeply admire how bizarre it really is. Habash writes a heavily involved, first-person protagonist that somehow doesn't know things that we do. It is deeply psychological and unflinching and gritty. Stephen Florida is the kind of narrator that doesn't let you look away. If I have one criticism, it is that Habash has a loose grip on how to build up to something (and that goes for more than just the ending). For my own satisfaction, I cannot read the ending as purely literal. I have several ideas on how to read it that all make me feel like some wild conspiracy theorist with the red strings and questionable pieces of evidence (see: that one gif from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia). I can dismiss this, though, because I didn't feel that this book needed to lead to anything. I was perfectly happy to meander in Stephen's thoughts and memories for the entirety of this book, and I selfishly wish it were longer.

Kelly Link isn't interested in stories that have "a point" or that tie up all the loose ends -- you will be left in the dark. That is the point. (Is this sometimes hard for me to accept as a reader? Maybe. I struggled a little with this. I understand how it could get frustrating. This is a me problem, though, not a problem with the writing.) There is a line in "Lull" that I think describes her style: "There shouldn't be a moral although we should be able to think back later and have some sort of revelation."

Magic is a good way to describe these stories. The magic in them lies in their complexity; there is just so much to think about, so many ways to read the same story, so much happening in each line. I have never read something more clever in my entire life, and I'm frustrated because I can't articulate why. "Lull," "Some Zombie Contingency Plans," and "Magic for Beginners" round out my top three. (Can we talk about "Lull" for a second? Holy shit, y'all.) I liked "The Cannon," though I really had no idea what that was about at all -- the ending was satisfying, and I couldn't even tell you why. (In case you haven't gotten it yet: Link is the smartest writer I have ever read from, and I really could not tell you why I know this; I just know it. I will figure it out, one day.)

My one criticism of Link's writing is that it makes some subjects "cute" that maybe should not be. Take "The Faery Handbag," for example -- I read this as a literalization of emotional baggage and trauma that's impossible to articulate. It was deeply clever, and the easiest for me to get a grip on, so my reading experience was far more pleasant with this than other stories. Still, it made the darker aspects of this just feel cute. Rhetorically, I'm not sure about that. The same goes for "Stone Animals": look at the bunnies! It just felt a little like skirting around the hard things.

Anyway, TL;DR: You're going to be confused, and you're going to like it.

Do you ever finish a book and just think "ah, right, I really do love reading"? It's been awhile since I became so involved in a book that, when I put it down, was actually disoriented. Where am I, again?

So, that is to say: This is beautiful. The blurb on the back describes the book as "kaleidoscopic," which is spot-on. I love the pairing of blurring the lines between fiction-nonfiction and life-death. Every scene in this book that speculates what comes after death is fictional, while all exposition of the living is nonfictional -- I loved that. Big questions. No answers, which is great. It's an exploration of what it means to lose and grieve and let go. I love this form. I love the unfinished sentences (SO much) and all of Willie's sections and the perfect adaption to language. I love this weird mixing of real and fiction. Yeah, it's stunning.

Also: Willie's last section in the book?? Oh?? My god?? I'm not the kind of person who cries while reading/watching movies, but I had to set the book down and take a second. It is devastatingly beautiful. God. Wow. It is the contrast between the party happening (and probably tormenting him) during his death and then, later, him talking about all the things he gets to do at said party after he's dead. It got me and is still getting to me and I will be thinking about this section for a very long time. It's the letting go and the acceptance of the whole terrible thing -- I find it hard to do much more than open and close my mouth like some kind of awed fish. God. It makes me wish I had friends who read this stuff. You will want to talk about this with someone, I think.

Kelly Link's writing reads like an impressionist painting. There's a lot of detail, and it's obviously very skillfully done, but you can't expect it to be clear. It's more about the impression it leaves. It is sometimes frustrating! Because it doesn't entirely make sense to me! But Link is very good. There is a great deal of confidence in her writing. She writes something weird/bizarre/magical, and while you stop to think about why it's there, it's like she hasn't even noticed that the weird/bizarre/magical isn't a part of reality. She isn't questioning any part of her style at all.

"Two Houses" is my favorite here, but "Light" is the best written. Link is at her best telling ghost stories. She is at her best when she's playing with the shape of her stories. "Valley of the Girls" was too much too fast for me. It needed more space; it felt crammed. The first story in the collection is "The Summer People," and it gets better the longer I think about it. (Maybe I should stop writing these reviews immediately after finishing the last story.) I really do like thinking of this stories as abstract with emotional truths. It's, like, the only way I can think about these without getting super frustrated, and then I actually enjoy and appreciate the writing. I just wish someone had told me that before I started reading Link's stuff.

My hot take is that "Magic for Beginners" is the better collection. I know, I know.

I feel like most of this review was negative. Link is very talented! And very good! Most of the flaws I am coming up with here are in my reading skills and not her writing.

Hmm. Hmmm...

I've never read a book more rooted in history and place. It's a blend of historical fiction/horror with a shit ton of geographic detail. Sometimes this was lazy. Sometimes I felt like Kiwi only existed as an excuse to pack in historical detail

(and to rescue Ossie, at the end)

, and that felt kind of lazy. Karen Russell is very good at descriptions. She is incredible at accurately describing a feeling, a noise, a motion, etc. in a handful of words.

The beginning and middle of this book are very long -- I wouldn't say dragged out, but long. Then so much happens in the last 50 pages. Every sentence introduces some big leap. This didn't feel purposeful enough to me.

As far as the ending goes:

This book loses its magic quickly. That's not saying it gets bad quickly, but it just loses every supernatural, absurd or otherwise unreal element to it. It feels like being dragged to the surface all at once, an "oh haha, that was all silly" feeling. You know when you leave the movie theater and it's bright in the hallway and it sinks in, again, that there's a real world out there? Like that. It was abrupt. I like books that let you feel the gravity of this situation, and this did that! But the last 100 pages did NOT match the first 300. (Think: Kelly Link for 300 pages, George Saunders for the last 100.) This reminded me of "Stephen Florida" in terms of bizarre, technically-realistic-but-so-weird-it's-not details, but I hoped it would do the same kind of unanswerable ending, where you don't know what happens, really, and there's a lot to speculate on. I wasn't satisfied with the ending.

Also, this was a very small portion of the book but it is something that gets me incredibly angry when it is done wrong: Do! Not! Write! About! Journalists! If! You! Clearly! Know! Nothing! About! Journalism! I think these parts were supposed to be exaggerated, but really, what happened is that Russell bloated the stereotype of a journalist, and it was lazy. It's not funny. It's not cute. It's not creative. Just move on.