"A child's mind is like a bird trapped in an attic, looking for any crack of the light to fly out of. Children are given vivid imaginations as defense"A child's mind is like a bird trapped in an attic, looking for any crack of the light to fly out of. Children are given vivid imaginations as defense mechanisms, as they usually don't have much means for escape."
Heather O'Neill, you are a magnificent gutter angel and I love you with all my heart. How can the story of a modern day street urchin, born to teenage parents and raised by a junky in the squalor of Montreal's red light district be so luminous?
Drawing inspiration from Dickens, Sarah Water, Angela Carter and Anaïs Nin, O'Neill tells the story of Baby, and there is never so much as a hint of self-pity in her character’s voice. I think this is because she understands very deeply that, for children, the world seems magical when you grow up, regardless of what your world is made up of, and that the veneer is progressively rubbed off in the process of growing up. It is only in hindsight that some of our parents’ eccentricities or bad behavior becomes a problem: in the moment, we didn’t have the adult mind to think of them as unusual ("It never occurs to you when you are very young to need something other than what your parents have to offer you.").
I hated Jules for the damage he inflicted on Baby, but I also felt deeply sad for him: having a child when you are a child is not easy in the best of circumstances, and his circumstances were terrible to begin with. It is heartbreaking that he takes care of his kid better when he’s on drugs than he does when he’s sober, and no matter what he does or say, he does love her. He just has no idea how to take care of himself, let alone his daughter.
The tragedy of children with unreliable parents is that they are forced to become very resourceful to survive, but that resourcefulness is often misdirected because they completely lack guidance. Some of the things that happen to Baby and some of her terrible decisions are a bit predictable, granted: but these are the patterns that would feel normal for someone raised as she was, by someone who never bothered hiding his addiction or petty crimes – someone who’s logic is still upsettingly child-like. You want to tell her to stop as you hold the book, but how could she? Obviously, Alphonse will make her feel loved and safe for a while, but he is ultimately even worse than Jules because his “love” for Baby is predatory and exploitative.
I always have a soft spot for writers (often local) who write about my city: O’Neill clearly adores Montreal, and even when she describes its seediest alleys, you can feel in her writing that she thinks those alleys are beautiful. Wandering around those alleys was one of my favorite ways to waste summer afternoons away, and alas, the pandemic stole that pleasure away from me this year. I can’t wait to be able to go back and see the graffitis, the wild flowers and the clothe-lines.
I can't lie: I prefer O'Neill's later work ("Lonely Hearts Hotel" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) remains my favorite so far, but she's young, she can write a bunch more!), but I can see why this created such hype when it came out. For a debut novel, this is a tender, raw and beautifully written stunner of a novel with plenty of enchanting sentenses that stick to your heart like bubblegum. A tragic but nevertheless hopeful story of growing up on the worse side of the tracks. 4 and a half stars rounded up....more
I first heard about Olive because of Julie. And while this isn't the sort of book that would have usually jumped at me (no sentient mushrooms, existenI first heard about Olive because of Julie. And while this isn't the sort of book that would have usually jumped at me (no sentient mushrooms, existentialism or bombastic event involving dark handsome strangers, feh!), I trust Julie's taste almost implicitly - so when a copy of "Olive Kitteridge" winked at me from the shelf of Cheap Thrills (oh my god, do I miss my tiny, cramped, amazing used bookstore!), I just grabbed it. Julie said it was good.
Julie was right.
I've known women very much like Olive: smart, practical and sarcastic but tactless, struggling quietly with mental illness and keeping a stiff upper lip. I try very hard not to be an Olive, to stay softer than the women I grew up around, who were all sharp edges and narrowed eyes. I try to remember that just like Olive, they thought it was the best way to handle things.
Olive lives in a little town in Maine, and while she is not the focus of every short story in this book, she always has a part to play and a word to say. Sometimes, her very unique brand of tough love is exactly what those around her need. Sometimes, she should stick a sock in her mouth. At the end of the day, she's simply doing the best she can with what she has. She would say that she doesn't suffer fools; some would say that she is judgemental - even if it is fueled by a desire to help and be there. I loved that she is not at the center of every story, because it does a wonderful job showing that you are not the same person to the different people you know. You are an angel to some and a tormentor to others, no matter what you do. Olive is the ultimate anti-Mary Sue.
The magic of this novel-in-vignettes is that pretty much anyone can relate to it. It is so deeply human, so empathic that it will touch a nerve no matter who you are. The need for intimacy, the fear of death, the longing for it, the pull of love against the push of convention, the impression that one is simply not "one of those people" (you know, the ones who make everything seem effortless and simple while you are bumbling about life like a bull in a china shop). You've felt those things. I have. You will love and be annoyed with Olive the same way you love and are annoyed with yourself.
The timing of my reading this probably influenced how it hit me: because of the pandemic, it's unlikely we'll be able to go see my in-laws before the Christmas holidays, and I realized I miss them terribly (even if I can't get my father-in-law to eat vegetables and it drives me insane). They live in a small town in Western New York, that has a lot in common with Crosby, Maine (with Lake Ontario as a stand-in for the Atlantic): slightly quirky people who have a deep ocean of life under the surface that I will never know about... because no one talks about anything. And yeah, I'm pretty sure they make fun of my yoga and oat milk when I'm not there... I love them anyway.
A compassionate, seemingly quiet and unassuming novel that moved me very deeply....more
“Books need to be read quite as much as we need to read them.”
This is one of those perfect short stories: one more word, and it would have been too mu“Books need to be read quite as much as we need to read them.”
This is one of those perfect short stories: one more word, and it would have been too much. The pleasure of reading it has to be furtive, a stolen quarter of an hour, hiding the screen of your smartphone from colleagues so they can’t see what you are doing instead of working. If they are the book and library-loving type, they’d forgive you.
I very strongly believe books can save people, can change them, can give them the tools they need to live better lives. A story like “A Witch’s Guide to Escape” encapsulates that idea and brings it to life in a handful of pages, where a very special librarian helps a lonely child find the book he needs the most.
I like to think that books really do have a life of their own, that they enjoy being in our hands just as much as we like to hold them, and sniff them and cry into them. So this lovely, opinionated unnamed narrator had me on her side instantly.
I think missed my calling : I should have been a librarian witch. Few things make me happier than to find a loving home for good books. I love browsing a messy used bookstore, find a weird thing and think to myself: “Oh, Jason/Erika/Amanda would love this!” and taking it home, as if I was sneaking a priceless treasure in my old tote bag. I push books on my nephews as if they were life-saving tools, which, you know, they are! I can’t be there to read with them, sadly, but I’m counting on those books to keep an eye on the boys for me.
I can’t give a story like this anything less than 5 stars. Ms. Harrow, I hope you get all the awards! I’m going home to sniff my books now…
When I found out that this book existed, I essentially ran to the bookstore at the earliest opportunity and snagged a copy. I am a Bourdain fangirl (yWhen I found out that this book existed, I essentially ran to the bookstore at the earliest opportunity and snagged a copy. I am a Bourdain fangirl (you might have noticed if you follow my reviews), and I miss his voice, his wit and his energy. His last interviews? I simply needed this book to come home with me.
And I'll be honest: it's a mixed bag. Some interviewers are simply more skilled than others, and create more stimulating conversation. But it was great to have even just a little bit more of Anthony's voice to enjoy. It was also pretty painful...
The stand outs are a 2014 interview with John W. Little for "Blogs of War" and a 2018 appearance on the "Daily Show".
Here are a few quotes that made me wish I hadn't been reading this on the bus.
"I used to think that basically, the whole world, that all humanity were basically bastards. I've since found that most people seem to be pretty nice - basically good people doing the best they can."
"If I have a side, its against extremism - of any kind: religious, political, other: there's no conversation when everybody is absolutely certain of the righteousness of their argument."
"We should feed our enemies Chicken McNuggets."...more
This story has a very special place in my heart. It’s enchanting, tragically romantic and quite unforgettable. It is about many things, but the natureThis story has a very special place in my heart. It’s enchanting, tragically romantic and quite unforgettable. It is about many things, but the nature of love and the sanctity of life are the themes that always echo in my brain when I flip through it. I have also recently found myself very drawn to stories featuring a fox: I’m not quite sure why that is, but a quick exploration of the many symbolic associations with foxes gave me quite a lot to ponder…
There are two versions of this story available in print: the graphic novel version, illustrated by the amazing P. Craig Russell (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), and this one, published as an illustrated novella. I am a huge fan of Russell’s style, but there is something darkly haunting about Yoshitaka Amano’s work, which suits my current mood a little better than Russell’s whimsy – and I love this little fable so freaking much that I just wanted every version of it that was out there. Besides, this illustrated novella format means we get more of Mr. Gaiman’s beautiful words, which is something precious that I can’t get enough of.
I was not very familiar with this Japanese illustrator’s work, as I am a complete dilettante when it comes to video games and anime, until I got my hands on this book. But from what I can see in my copy of “Dream Hunter”, he is an incredible artist who truly captured the essence of this story.
I am clearly a bit of a sucker for nostalgia: I am mildly obsessed with vintage-style clothes, mid-century modern kitchen knick-knacks and I am activeI am clearly a bit of a sucker for nostalgia: I am mildly obsessed with vintage-style clothes, mid-century modern kitchen knick-knacks and I am actively looking for an antique typewriter and gramophone to decorate my library. But my nostalgia is purely aesthetic: I know good and well that everyone wearing hats and gloves did not make the world a more wholesome place (just a more elegant one), and that beautiful old cars are an environmental disaster no matter how cool they look. But it is hard to resist the appeal of the illusion that there was a time when things were simple, more civilized and more – for lack of a better word – tasteful. Some might argue that makes me the ideal audience for the Zweig “revival”.
Call me a hipster, but I got interested in Zweig’s work because of the Wes Anderson movie “The Grand Budapest Hotel”, especially after reading that Anderson created the character of M. Gustave to represent Zweig himself: someone deeply attached to a set of values and code of conduct that might feel old-fashioned, but that certainly represented a more elegant and liberal civilization than the one they were forced to live in. A man with very high standards and a kind heart. I just had to know more about a man like that, especially after reading “Chess” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...). This book being a blend of memoirs and recounting of how the Austro-Hungarian empire went from a sophisticated realm with a refined culture to being the Third Reich’s backyard, I knew it would be interesting and also heartbreaking. Having had to flee his homeland, and eventually Europe altogether, I also knew that Zweig would be looking back at his old life with rose-coloured glasses. I can’t say I blame him.
The first thing that struck me as I made my way through this memoir was the absolute beauty of the prose. I know it’s a translation, but wow! This is the kind of book that reads like soft, chewy candy to me: I want it to go on forever and I’m kind of bummed when it’s all gone. Zweig’s love for Vienna shines through the writing vividly. He was brought up in a city and a family that valued culture tremendously, and made intellectualism a holy value, more important than money and politics, and his character is very much a reflection of the time and place of his birth and early life. It made me wish I had lived there and then, in that incredible place where people sought enlightenment in books and art.
Zweig was a realist, who saw the quirks and contradictions of human behavior with a compassionate eye, and until the Great War, was more often amused at people’s less admirable sides that appalled or weary of them. The way he talks about Vienna, Berlin and Paris, and the advent of a more modern way of living and a greater equality between sexes and classes, has the exuberant enthusiasm of someone who witnesses spring for the first time. Everything was fresh and bright in his eyes, and his love for the time and places is infectious. He was also fiercely admiring of the artists, writers and actors he met and befriended: it could sound like shameless name-dropping to talk about one’s friendships with Rilke, Freud and other turn-of-the-century luminaries, but Zweig is too earnest in his admiration of the great minds he frequented to ever sound like he’s bragging to have known them: he just wants everyone to love them as much as he did.
When he switches gears and turns his narrative to the Great War, and the way it broke Europe’s (and his generation’s) innocence, I suddenly had a pit in my stomach. Lines such as “Our common idealism, the optimism that had come from progress, meant that we failed to see and speak out strongly enough against our common danger” felt too close to home for me, too close to the way I have felt at the back of my head for the past couple of years.
I was brought close to tears more than once by the way he describes the devastation war left in its wake through Austria, when he mentions the letter someone secretly slipped in his pocket when he visited post-Revolutionary Russia – to tell him not to believe everything he heard – and of course, when he suddenly finds himself forced to leave his beloved country behind when Hitler’s regime makes being a Jewish writer in Austria extremely dangerous.
It’s hard to read a book like that, a book that paints such a vivid picture of all the good and beautiful things that greed, intolerance, hate, and ignorance can ruin, especially when all we seem to hear about on the news is the resurgence of greed, intolerance, hatred and ignorance. It’s frightening to think of the historical parallels, to imagine what could happen (again!) if things go south… As much as I loved this book, I would lie if I said it didn’t also break my heart. I feel like I found a long-lost friend in Zweig, and then all I could do was listen to him tell me about all the things he lost. He deeply believed in what one could call the brotherhood of people, and that arbitrary divisions would cause nothing but pain on either side: seeing his ideals blown apart was too much for him.
As I have learned watching “Mad Men” obsessively, the word nostalgia means “the pain from an old wound”. Never has this definition felt more appropriate than reading “The World of Yesterday”. A beautiful, bittersweet and still very relevant book.
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I was talking with a colleague last week who told me Zweig is his favorite writer: I am often tempted to judge people by the books they read (and the music they listen to, because I’m basically a “High Fidelity” character), and based on that, I think well of this guy: if your favorite writer is a humanist who believed in the importance of art and peace, you can’t be a bad person in my eyes....more
The last book of the Divine Cities trilogy… I knew this would be emotional, because this might just be my favorite fantasy series of all time (and theThe last book of the Divine Cities trilogy… I knew this would be emotional, because this might just be my favorite fantasy series of all time (and the two previous installments did get me all chocked up) but also because I saw all those reviews that seemed to indicate people scream-cried their way through this conclusion… So I braced myself and dove in anyway, because I love Robert Jackson Bennett’s world building and magic system, his complicated, strong and flawed characters who try to do the right thing so hard, his philosophical storytelling and beautiful prose…
Reader, I cried too. The end of this book simply gutted me.
Sigrud lost a lot of things in his life: his title, his home, his daughter… After the tragic events of “City of Blades” and his *ahem* reaction to Signe’s death, he had no choice but to go in exile in an isolated region of Bulikov, under a false name, in order to stay safe. He spent thirteen years this way, waiting for Shara, spunky and clever former Prime Minister Shara, to reach out and tell him she finally needs him back. But then he learns of her assassination… Sigrud’s unwavering loyalty to Shara is not diminished by her death, and he vows to find out why his friend died and who is responsible for the terrorist act that claimed her life.
Did anyone else immediately think, “Revenge rampage!! This is going to be awesome!”, or is that just me? Shara pissed a lot of people off when she was Prime Minister, so finding out who hated her enough to want her dead is a complicated puzzle for Sigrud to solve. And even when he begins to find answers, they only lead to more questions, and a side of this world he wasn’t prepared for is eventually revealed to him. Through what may just be his most dangerous mission yet, he also struggles with his conscience and deep regrets over the things he’s done in the past.
I’ve gotten to know and love Sigrud over the course of these books, the intimidating Dreyling who is so much more than a lean, mean ass-kicking machine. He is in fact a man filled with sadness, and Shara kept him from sinking for so many years that he inevitably feels unmoored by her death. A full book from his perspective was as much of treat as it was to have “City of Blades” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) be focused on Turyin Mulaghesh; Bennett once again developed a beloved side character into a fascinating and layered protagonist, with a rich history to come to terms with.
As usual with Bennett’s books, the world building is beautifully detailed, and so vivid that it is almost as much of character as its inhabitants. Bennett also brought up a yet-unexplored element of his incredible world forward: the Divinities’ children and their descendants.
If you like intelligent and deeply engaging fantasy fiction, do yourself a favor and read this trilogy. Bennet wrote beautiful, refreshingly original books that are beyond genre, as far as I am concerned. They might break your heart, but it’s totally worth it.
“My definition of an adult is someone who lives their life aware they are sharing the world with others. My definition of an adult is someone who knows the world was here before they showed up and that it'll be here well after they walk away from it. My definition of an adult, in other words, is someone who lives their life with a little fucking perspective.”...more
You have to brace yourself to read James Baldwin. And even then, even if you know he’s going to throw a punch at you, he’ll still knock you right off You have to brace yourself to read James Baldwin. And even then, even if you know he’s going to throw a punch at you, he’ll still knock you right off your feet.
Written and set in the 1970s, “If Beale Street Could Talk” might as well be set now, because this is the kind of story that we read about in the news all too often: and just as in real life, there is no perfect resolution to this tale of injustice, prejudice and broken homes.
Tish and Fonny have always loved each other, even when they were too young to know it. When they do finally realize it and begin to make plans for a life together, their dreams are dashed: a woman is raped by an black man, points to Fonny in a line up, and he is sent to jail. Tish and her family know that Fonny is innocent, but they have the testimony of a white cop against them, and then the accuser disappears…
Told in Tish’s voice, the story of how her and her family try to free Fonny is endlessly tragic, but also, somehow, a beautiful love story. Tish is strong and resilient, but also prudent. She is well-aware that the nightmare she is in is neither uncommon nor is it going away easily. Her family, a tight-knit group of imperfect but loving people who will try anything to help, is a stark contrast to Fonny’s, whose father is the only one who takes a part of fighting for the young man’s freedom – the very religious but heartless mother and sisters echoing Baldwin’s previous work, where characters are devoted to their Church but not to their family and community.
Baldwin’s prose, of course, is sharp like a scalpel and exposes the truths he saw and heard and that he desperately wanted other people to see and hear. He knew that his strongest weapon in a fight for justice was his story-telling. So he wrote about the lengths some people have to go in order to get the justice that others take for granted, that the cost is more than simply money, and that a rigged system doesn’t only hurt the person who is unfairly jailed, but all those who are near and dear to them.
This little novella packs quite a punch, and isn’t as far from us as the publication date might make it seem. My tiny review can’t do justice to this heartbreaking and important book....more
After getting what I believe I referred to as a sucker-punch to the heart from Tana French’s first book, "In the Woods" (https://www.goodreads.com/revAfter getting what I believe I referred to as a sucker-punch to the heart from Tana French’s first book, "In the Woods" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), one might wonder why I would choose to read the following installment of the Dublin Murder Squad series. First of all, I loved Cassie, and I was very curious to know how she’d put her life back together after the messy conclusion of Operation Vestal. And, well, I guess I just like the kind of pain good writers inflict upon me; so not unlike a lemming, I am irresistibly drawn to scour used bookstores until I find my next paper heart-break.
Cassie Maddox is no longer the carefree pixie she was before Operation Vestal: the investigation and the falling out with her former partner snuffed something inside of her. She got a bit quieter, settled serenely into a relationship with Sam (who definitely has less baggage and issues than Rob ever did) and she transferred to the Domestic Violence unit. But something very eerie happens: she is called to a crime scene where the body of a young woman was found, a body bearing an uncanny resemblance to Cassie. Creepy cherry on the creepy sundae: the identification found on the body indicates the woman is named Lexie Madison, Cassie’s old undercover alias…
Now how often do you get to conduct a murder investigation from the point of view of the intended victim? I’m going to guess not frequently, so while I was very annoyed with Cassie’s undercover handler for pushing her back under her former assumed identity, I could also see how such an opportunity would be solid gold. As soon as Cassie slips back into this role, she is pulled in many directions at once.
The improbable event of two women, who look almost perfectly identical, both using the same alias can definitely feel far-fetched when the story begins – and since “In the Woods” also featured a few elements that were hard to believe, I was hoping French would handle this smoothly, and I think she did. One of the many facets of this mystery is who the hell is that woman, where she came from and what was she doing as Lexie, and the investigation takes these questions to very interesting places.
“The Likeness” is just as literary (bordering on lyrical, really) and psychologically rich as its predecessor was: we are very aware that there is a complex murder investigation going on, but the story isn’t bogged down by technical details and procedural babble. This is much more about the effect working on such an investigation can have, both on Cassie and on Sam (whom I couldn’t help but feel terrible for: the poor guy is adorable and clearly cares about Cassie so much, but he really is a meager stand in for his predecessor, now isn’t he? #teamrob). And just like in the first book, I stopped trying to untangle the mystery pretty early and simply let myself be buoyed by the narration, wondering what hell was going on every time I’d turn a page. The last 150 pages had me on my toes and I was ready to bite anyone who interrupted my reading (sorry, Jason!).
I have to say, I loved being in Cassie’s head, at last! The opportunity to be Lexie is a chance for her to run away from the malaise she has been dealing with since her transfer from Murder to Domestic Violence, to pour herself into somebody else’s life so she doesn’t have to deal with the hole Rob left in hers. Sure, she misses the thrill of her old job, but she also misses the intimacy of her old friendship, and as much as she wants to know what this Lexie 2.0 was doing with her identity, she is attracted to the very close-knit group of friends, who seem to have been lifted straight off the page of a leather-bound novel. The atmosphere of luxurious decay French pushes you into the minute you cross that mysterious house’s threshold was the prefect setting for Cassie’s slip into another’s skin: everything is already dream-like, chic in its surrealism and so wonderfully different from her life…
The similarities between the Whitethorn House housemates and the little group of students from “The Secret History” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) was striking: super-intellectual types who disdain technology and excessive modernism, preferring to live as if they were E.M. Forster characters, and who can’t help but give off this insular vibe that they are simply better than everybody else. But while the characters of Donna Tartt’s novel irritated me to no end (partially because they were too superficially developed), I found myself warming up to this group. They are pretty full of themselves and their eccentricity sometimes feels like an affectation, but I can see why Cassie would want to belong with a group who not only have each other’s backs, but who also share the intimacy of a family – something she has never really known. The quintet is obviously keeping a ton of secrets, from outsiders and from each other, and any rational observer knows this fragile equilibrium is bound of fall apart sooner or later; but it all looks so idyllic and romantic…
If you enjoyed the first book, can suspend disbelief for the sake of amazing writing and rich character development, and enjoy losing yourself in a good mystery, then you should definitely read “The Likeness”. While a prior reading of “In The Woods” might not be absolutely mandatory to enjoy this, why wouldn’t you want to know why our main character is a mess (and fall in love with Rob, like the rest of us)?
**
I watched the BBC produced series "Dublin Murders", which blended together the stories of "In the Woods" and "The Likeness", and while I wasn't sure about it at first, I persisted, and at the halfway mark, I was completely sucked in. The series is not a perfect adaptation of the books, but it's beautifully put together, dark and gritty and the casting carries the convoluted story very strongly. It's definitely worth watching for fans of the books....more
"The vast power of money, mighty when you have it and mightier when you don't, with its divine gift of freedom and the demonic fury4 and a half stars.
"The vast power of money, mighty when you have it and mightier when you don't, with its divine gift of freedom and the demonic fury it unleashes on those forced to do without it..."
There is a strange relevance to "The Post Office Girl" (the original title is translated as "The Intoxication of Metamorphose"), a quality to the subject matter and to the sharpness of Zweig's observations that make it feel almost strangely contemporary. It captures the state of mind of an entire generation that feels hopelessly stuck in circumstances completely beyond their control, that generations that came before them created and that they must now endure...
Christine lives in a world that's licking its wounds after a war, but some of the damage done is unfortunately irreversible. Her family's circumstances will never be as prosperous as they once were, her mother's health is ruined and working as a clerk in the tiny town's post office is all that keeps Christine from abject misery. One day, out of the blue, her aunt Clara who married a rich American, sends her a telegram asking her to join them in a luxurious Swiss resort for a few days. Embarrassed by Christine's shabby clothes, aunt Clara dressed her up in her fancy dresses, sends her to the hair salon and suddenly, Christine is no longer the unremarkable little postal clerk she once was, but a glamorous young woman courted by rich men and befriended by the fashionable crowd. But when the truth about her origins is brought to light, she is abruptly rejected and slinks back to her provincial little town, miserable and profoundly alone - as no one from her old life can possibly understand that the taste of the high-life she's had has changed her to her very core.
Ferdinand, whom she meets through her brother-in-law, is as broken as she is, but in different ways: after the war, he was stuck in a Siberian camp for two years, injured on his way back home and is now in the position of being unable to afford to go back to school and unable to work due to his injury. He shares Christine's impotent rage, her frustration and alienation - as no one else seems to understand why they are as dis-satisfied as they are. They even both think that death is the only way out for them. Or at least they do until Ferdinand comes up with an even more desperate plan.
I find Zweig's prose to be simply enchanting: his descriptions have a wonderful sensuality that puts you right behind the character's eyes and gives you an unsettling empathy for their experience. There are watershed moments in one's life that change everything: some experiences mean you will never look at your own life the same way again, and you'll come back from them changed profoundly. And of course, money doesn't buy happiness, but a certain amount of money can go a long way towards getting rid of unhappiness...
The story of the book's composition is almost as interesting as the novella itself: the first part was written when Zweig still lived in Austria, then was put aside for many years, then taken back out after Zweig had to leave his homeland because of the rise of the Nazi regime. And you can tell by the jarring change of tone between the two parts, though the central theme of longing for what can't be, that it was written by someone in a very different frame of mind. The book is not finished, per se: it was put together from the documents found in Zweig's file after his death - which, interestingly, mirrors the pact between Christine and Ferdinand. The first half has a glittering, dream-like quality to it, as where the second half is bleak, gritty and desperate. One can't help but wonder what ending he had in mind for his wannabe Bonnie and Clyde, but knowing how history played out, I bet they were not meant to live happily ever after.
This book might not have been exactly what his author intended it to be, but it is a haunting novella. Profoundly sad and hopeless, and yet beautiful - as only Zweig could write....more
Neil Gaiman wrote a Japanese fable and apparently fooled a bunch of fans and academics, who all believed he had adapted an actual folk tale within hisNeil Gaiman wrote a Japanese fable and apparently fooled a bunch of fans and academics, who all believed he had adapted an actual folk tale within his Sandman universe. Even his illustrator, the amazing P. Craig Russell thought this was just a really seamless absorption of a Japanese story into Morpheus' realm, but nope, it's 100% Gaiman. I read a lot of zen fairy tales when I began reading about Buddhism years ago, and while I am no expert, I can see why readers were fooled: the tone, rhythm and motif of the story within this lovely comic's pages are that strange and beautiful blend of whimsical and heartbreaking that are a trademark of many of Japanese folk tales.
A fox and a badger make a wager: if they can get a young, solitary monk to leave his tiny, remote temple, they will share his humble abode, as it is more comfortable than their dens. They try to fool the monk into leaving, but he sees through their deceptions. The badger eventually gives up, but the fox becomes unexpectedly attached to the young man, and when she hears demons whisper about a plan to kill him through his dreams, she undertakes a long journey to try to save the man she loves.
I cried reading this. It was a precious and tragic love story, illustrated in a style reminiscent of traditional Japanese water colors, but with Art Nouveau curves and stunning colors. Its a wonderful addition to the Sandman cannon, as well as a great little standalone story. Any fan of the series will enjoy this, as will anyone who enjoys Gaiman's work or who simply loves old folk tales... even if they are not 100% authentic......more
Last book of the year!! Thank you so much, Becky Chambers, for providing me with the sci-fi comfort my heart and brain needed.
I don't Re-read in 2023:
Last book of the year!! Thank you so much, Becky Chambers, for providing me with the sci-fi comfort my heart and brain needed.
I don't think I had noticed this the first time I read this book, but this time around, I was struck with the emphasis Chambers put on some professions that aren't often discussed - in real life and in the realm of science-fiction: morticians and archivists (Véro, this is definitely the "Wayfarer" book for you!). But more precisely, I was struck with the relationship between Eyas, our (for lack of a better word) space-mortician, whose job is it to handle dead bodies, funeral ceremonies and subsequent "recycling" of the remains into compost, and Sunny, the host (i.e. sex worker) she befriends. Chambers talks about both of their professions with incredible respect and dignity, and I loved it. The two lines of work are often met with tons of prejudices and are deeply misunderstood, and it's lovely to see her bring her heart-warming humane touch to those jobs. I would have loved to see more of their relationship.
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I just love Becky Chambers. There's no way around it: she writes the kind of sci-fi I've always wanted to read. She writes the kind of sci-fi I wish I had written! "The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet" (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) was probably my favorite book of 2017, and I have been eagerly anticipating new "Wayfarer" installments since.
"Record of a Spaceborn Few" starts out shortly after the end of "The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet"; but the setting couldn't be more different. After the Earth was rendered uninhabitable, humans built the Exodus Fleet and left their home planet in search of a new place to live. While they were eventually accepted as part of the Galactic Commons and settled small colonies on a few planets, a community of humans remains on the fleet. Known as Exodans, they cherish their traditions and are fiercely loyal to their way of life. But over time, so many have left the Fleet, to settle on other worlds, live different lives. Are the Exodans fated to eventually vanish? How can they insure no one forgets where they came from and how hard they worked to get there? The Exodans are confronted head-on with these questions when a tragic incident kills a significant number of their community.
Just as in Chambers' first book, the story is told by multiple points of view, painting a rich and multilayered picture of what life is like in this universe. She writes with profound compassion and optimist humor; qualities I hunger for insatiably. Her inclusive approach to character development never feels forced: in her head, people have simply gotten to the point where they understand that being open and accepting is the only way to make sure we all survive whatever we have to face.
In Chambers' vivid and flawless world-building, humans were essentially refugees, tolerated by the Galactic Commons and only recently been made an integral part of its community: in many ways, they are still figuring it out, and dealing with a heavy heritage. Some of the characters in this story were born on the Fleet, and for a myriad reasons, want to protect and help it endure... or they begin to wonder if it really is the place for them. A newcomer and an alien academic have a very different interest in this living relic of Human culture: can it be a home? What can their culture learn form it? Their voices are distinct, their personalities and backstory very fleshed out; you get invested in each story line.
"Record of a Spaceborn Few" is engaging, moving and thought-provoking: it's Chambers' most human-centric work yet, and it is a remarkable exploration of what an uprooted humanity - who still hold on to what makes them unique in this big, diverse and complicated universe they travel through - could be like. She has given us consistently amazing space operas for the last few years and I hope she never stops! I can't recommend her books enough. If you are a fan of the series, you cannot miss this wonderful novel....more
Who is William Stoner? I found myself asking this question both when I picked up this book, and when I put it down after turnRambling reaction/review.
Who is William Stoner? I found myself asking this question both when I picked up this book, and when I put it down after turning the last page. Is he a simple, weak man of no character who let his life go by, making as few waves as possible, or is he someone who simply did not know how to stir the ship he was in charge of? If he had acted and reacted differently, his career and marriage would have certainly been different. Better? Would it have actually been better for him to become an eminent professor, to find a truly good woman, suited to his character? Could he have been a more remarkable and dashing figure, had he tired? Would his story have moved me as it did if it had been the story of a loud and assertive man, as opposed to that of a gentle, solitary man?
This deceptively quiet and simple book will just not get out of my head. The pain and sadness I felt as I lived through the events of Stoner's life along with him are a stain on my heart I can't scrub off.
I was struck by the incredible compassion in Williams' writing: the way he captures the small injustices of life, the tiny pebbles in every human's shoe that digs painfully into the sole of their feet as they live their short time on Earth. Workplace politics, marital conflicts, misunderstandings between parents and children, the strange behaviors one catches themselves in when minor dissatisfactions have become too much to bear. Everyone deals with that at one point or another, and in some ways, we are all a bit like William Stoner.
Unskilled parenting is something that gets under my skin in novels: with my parents, I discovered that one may be a good person and a bad parent at the same time. It actually takes a very specific set of skills to raise children without fucking them up and it turns out very few people have those skills. As a result, most people deal with various levels of parental damages their entire lives, and reading the parts when Edith suddenly decides to get involved with Grace's upbringing after neglecting her for almost a decade made me so mad I had to put the book down, walk off and busy myself with mind-numbing tasks before I could get back to it.
My husband is a former academic who told me many stories about how the haven of a university can turn into a prison, and about the Charles Walkers who haunt their corridors. And by that I don't mean people who are disabled, but people who half-ass their way through a graduate degree and make a fuss about alleged faculty disrespect or prejudice against them to conceal their own lack of talent and intelligence. People who succeed through nepotism instead of succeeding by merit and who flaunt it at those whose honest work doesn't have the luck of strategic allies. I breaks my heart to think that the pursuit of knowledge is so often thrown over in favor of petty ego-trips and absurd politics.
I also wondered about the mental health of both William and Edith. His stoicism is almost pathological, and he doesn't pick up on people's behavioral clues at all, which suggests he might be somewhere on the autism spectrum, or at the very least crippled by social anxiety. Edith reminded me of some women I know (including my mother) who struggle with borderline personality disorder, with her inconsistent affection and cruelty, as well as her incapacity to empathize with other people's suffering - her own being the only one she believes to matter. I did wonder if she might have been abused as a child, given her relationship with and reactions to her parents.
Stoner's falling in love with literature, with his daughter and with teaching are moments of bright joy in his life, and he holds on to those loves through thick and thin. But the way he does nothing to make those loves more glorious, to make their light shine brighter, weighed me down. He makes the best of his circumstances without ever trying to change them when they are not as good as they could be. He seems to know all things end, the good and the bad. Letting Katherine go is hard, but he also know it is the only realistic option he has. I wished he had held on to the good things a bit tighter.
We forget that most people live quiet and unremarkable lives, and that there's nothing wrong with that. So many books are dedicated to chronicling the journeys of those who stand out, who raise hell, who shake the world up. But perhaps not enough is said about those who go through the world unnoticed, but just as human, just as complex and just as real as the larger-than-life heroes. An elegant, compassionate and melancholy novel. 4 and a half, rounded up....more
DO NOT read this review if you are planning on reading "The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet" and haven't gotten around to it: there's kind of a majoDO NOT read this review if you are planning on reading "The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet" and haven't gotten around to it: there's kind of a major spoiler in the opening on "A Closed and Common Orbit".
Chambers' second book opens very soon after the rather thrilling conclusion of "Angry Planet". Following the catastrophic damage inflicted in her system, Lovey, the Wayfarer's AI, was rebooted, erasing her memory of the personality she had developed over her time on the ship. She abruptly decides to do what her socialized version had wanted: download her "consciousness" inside a "kit", a near perfect replica of a human body that allows her not only to leave the Wayfarer but also to pass as a biological being. Unfortunately, such kits are highly illegal in the Galactic Commons, and anyone involved with them can be sentenced to long prison terms.
Lovey's adaptation from being an omnipresent AI with eyes and ears all over the ship and a permanent connection to a huge information network... to a self-contained being who's sensory input is limited by her human-shaped kit's perception capacity is quite a roller-coaster. Luckily for her, Pepper the spunky engineer is there to help her adapt and learn to pass as human. Pepper is the perfect teacher and friend for Lovey (or Sidra, as she chooses to call herself), because she knows first hand what its like to be ripped away from the only world you have ever known and forced to quickly adapt to an alien (no pun intended) environment. Before she was Pepper, she was Jane 23, one of hundreds of slaves scrap salvagers; she had never seen the sky, or any being that hadn't been genetically engineered like herself, for that matter. Until the day she escaped.
What Chambers started with "Angry Planet" continues seamlessly in "Common Orbit": a clever, complex, fully realized world-building filled with wonderful, multi-dimensional characters. It also follows the template of a space-opera: a characters-driven story that happens to take place of Port Coriol, a space-travel and commercial hub. Two characters instead of an ensemble this time, and while I missed Kizzy and Doctor Chef, the new players brought to this universe's stage are just as memorable.
The way Sidra perceives the world around her and learns to navigate it is so cleverly described, as are the strange new feelings she must learn to deal with. Her being overwhelmed by people, sounds - basically sensory overload - is an unexpected but when you think about it, normal side-effect of her condition: having a finite body.
Pepper is a character that we only meet quickly in "Angry Planet", but her background is fleshed out in flashbacks that alternate with the current timeline of Sidra's assimilation into society. Chambers has created a strong and yet incredibly vulnerable character with Pepper, and young girl who was raised by machines and who somehow came out of this strange education being more human than most.
Parenting, racism, sexuality, colonialism: Chambers uses sci-fi the old-fashioned way, to talk about real-world issues in a different context, and while she tackles firmly contemporary topics (gender identity is the first that comes to mind), I loved seeing Le Guin, Silverberg and Heinlein's influence come to the surface.
Call me a sap, but something about Chambers' stories moves me: the woman writes with such compassion, humanity and kindness, as well as humor. I read "Common Orbit" while vacationing at my in-law's cottage by Lake Ontario, looking at the waves and eating Ginger-Os and you know what? This book is like Ginger-Os: unexpected, delicious, comforting, familiar and yet completely refreshing. Dear Becky: please write many more of these! I love your books to bits!...more
It became obvious that I had to re-read "A Gentleman in Moscow" after watching a few episodes of the series with my husband. I was watching the eventsIt became obvious that I had to re-read "A Gentleman in Moscow" after watching a few episodes of the series with my husband. I was watching the events unfold around a charming (but, I think, oddly cast*) Ewan McGregor and I kept muttering to myself: "I don't remember this at all!". In my defence, I read this magnificent book in 2017, which is quite a few years ago now (Jesus, time flies!), so many specific details have had plenty of time to fade in my memory. All I truly remembered about this book was that I loved it, and recommended it to everyone (including my father-in-law, who is usually more into mysteries and thrillers but was not able to resist Count Rostov's charm and also loved it, yay!). Well, I dusted off my copy and dove back into the slightly surreal and wonderful world of the Metropol and its unique guests.
A thing that truly struck me as I revisited this book was that Count Rostov's steadfast kindness is a super-power. He treats everyone with immense courtesy and compassion - even when he is being threatened, pushed around and forced into situations that would make most people livid. This hit me especially hard as I can't read the news without seeing stories of protests and counter-protests turned violent and acrimonious, when at the end of the day, what everyone involved wants is peace and safety for innocent people. This might very well be why I fell in love with the Count in 2017: he never debases himself, he never loses his humanity, and he never forgets that even those who would bully him and try to make him feel small are as human as he is, and therefore, deserve kindness.
The book turned out even better than I remembered. If you haven't read it yet, pick it up. If you have, pick it up again.
*Let's be clear: I love Ewan McGregor. So much. But in my humble and possibly less than well informed opinion, he doesn't give "Russian aristocrat" vibes at all. And the perm succeeded at something I believed impossible: it made him un-sexy. He is still great in the role, navigating the tonal shifts between whimsical and profound sadness with great skill; he is simply not how I had pictured this character.
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Original review from 2017:
This is one of those books that can be hard to describe. At first glance, it’s the story of a man living in exile inside a hotel for over thirty years. But it also is a poignant tale of friendship, love, family, nostalgia and the ambiguous love one can have for their country. It seems so simple, and yet it is so rich with wit, spirit, tenderness and humanity that you can’t believe so much could have happened to this one man over a single lifetime.
After writing a politically ambiguous and incendiary poem, Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov is sentenced to house arrest in perpetuity, under pain of execution. His residence happens to be the luxury Hotel Metropol in Moscow (real place: Google it, the pictures are stunning!), in 1922. As he is a member of the minor aristocracy, such a verdict is quite magnanimous given the new regime in place, and he decides to make the best out of his new slightly restricted lifestyle. As his country (and the world) slowly changes around the Metropol, he will soon come to realize that he might just be the luckiest man in Russia. Count Rostov is a gentleman in the old-fashioned sense of the word: refined, impeccable manners, extremely cultivated and well-read, very fond of books, fine food and good wines. He had assumed his house arrest would be a solitary confinement, and he is the first to be surprised when a precocious child decides that she will become his friend and sends the rest of his life in a very unexpected direction.
That’s all you really need to know about the plot going into this amazing novel. Towles wrote a love letter to Russia and Russian culture, but a very lucid love letter: he never romanticizes the darker side of a country with a long and very complicated history, but neither does he deny the incredible accomplishments its people brought to the world.
I was completely transported by Towles’ prose, and fell just a little bit in love with Alexander: every page made me smile, even when it also created an uncomfortable lump in my throat and threatened to make me cry. He is an extraordinary character who grows and changes through his friendships with the hotel's staff, and discovers a new family and a new reason to live - and not simply pass time with "Anna Karenina" and a glass of brandy.
If you are a fan of Russian culture and literature (the book is full of references to Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Gogol, Chekov, etc.), and liked “The Grand Budapest Hotel”, I have no doubt that you will love this book. Very highly recommended to all lovers of good books, good wines and good people....more
I had been eagerly awaiting the return of "Nine-Nails" McGray and Ian Frey - so much so that I ordered my copy of "A Mask of Shadow" from the UK becauI had been eagerly awaiting the return of "Nine-Nails" McGray and Ian Frey - so much so that I ordered my copy of "A Mask of Shadow" from the UK because I couldn't wait until the fall to read the grumpy detectives' newest case. Oscar de Muriel has been delighting me with wonderfully Gothic, funny and creepy investigations in Victorian-era Scotland for two years, and he didn't disappoint with this third episode!
"Macbeth" might not be Shakespeare's most cheerful play, but I think it's his most fascinating work, not just because of the subject matter it addresses, but also because it's history is fraught with mystery and rumors of deaths - both from mundane and supernatural causes… Mr. Henry Irving's illustrious theater company's production of the Scottish Play is disturbed by morbid prophecies scrawled in blood and the unnatural screech of a banshee. Elaborate publicity stunt or genuine curse? Mr. Iriving's assistant, a certain Mr. Bram Stoker, reaches out to McGray and Frey when the company arrives in Edinburgh and the banshee makes itself heard once again.
The Mulder and Scully dynamic of McGray and Frey is obviously still very present, and their banter just as hilarious and colorful as it ever was. The clever use of the juicy lives of Ellen Terry, Henry Irving (and his ambiguous relationship with Bram Stoker) are beautifully weaved in this action-packed mystery. To summarize it too much would give the best bits away, so I will only say that fans of the series who have been anticipating this book will have their money's worth! The final twist at the end was right on point, and I never saw it coming!
Oscar de Muriel's books have always had a knack for hooking my attention: cursed violins, a conspiracy of witches, Shakespeare meets the creator of "Dracula"… I can't wait to see what he will come up with next! Fans of Victorian literature, Sherlock Holmes admirers and crime fiction aficionados should do themselves a favor and read the adventures of Frey and McGray. I am already looking forward to the fourth installment, due for next year!...more
I don’t know what I was expecting when I picked this up. Sepia tinted nostalgia. Eroticism. Regrets. Sadness. I knew tSomewhere between 4 and 5 stars.
I don’t know what I was expecting when I picked this up. Sepia tinted nostalgia. Eroticism. Regrets. Sadness. I knew that it was a vaguely fictionized version of an episode of Duras’ adolescence, when she fell in love and began a sexual relation with an older Chinese businessman when she lived in French Indochina. I knew that it explored her fractured relationship with her mother and her nameless lover’s tensions with his own father. I had heard that it captured that strange limbo between childhood and adulthood, when the very act of breathing feels uncomfortable and ill-fitting, like weirdly cut clothes. I thought, sure, that sounds like a book I’d like. I picked up a copy, read over a rainy Monday and put it on my shelf feeling like I had been hit over the head.
The prose is fluid and dreamlike, probably because it’s the voice of an old woman looking back at her far away past: the details are vague, some faces are blurred and it can sometimes feel like Duras narrates her tale from a place of aloofness, but I feel like it’s simply the distance of years. When I look back at things that happened when I was fifteen, it almost feels like it happened to someone else – and I’m nowhere near seventy years old yet. The writing is also saturated with suffering, and it leaves a trace of pain like an oil slick over the whole story. Duras never complains about her circumstances, she simply wants to say “This happened. It damaged me. I kept living anyway.” And yet it is impossible not empathize with her loneliness, her resentment, her feelings of abandonment and her need to feel like someone wants and values her.
Obviously, everything about this coupling is forbidden: the lovers’ age, race and class differences mean their relationship will never be anything but doomed, but they need each other to escape their respective misery, feeling that the only peace and understanding they will ever find is with the other.
Many people have compared it to “Lolita” (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), because it’s a disturbing story about an older man and a young “girl”, beautifully written. It is unsettling, but I didn’t feel like it was the relationship between the girl and the business man that was wrong: it was the abuse they both suffered. When you are damaged, sometimes you find comfort in the strangest places, and I doesn’t feel like it’s my place to judge them. "Lolita" was horrifying because Humbert made Lo suffer; "The Lover" is moving because they are united by their pain....more
I was talking to a friend about this novel a few days ago, and following this conversation, I have to change my rating from 4 to 5 stars. Because I keI was talking to a friend about this novel a few days ago, and following this conversation, I have to change my rating from 4 to 5 stars. Because I keep recommending it to everyone. Because I still think about it all the time over a year after I read it, because Pierrot and Rose and the way their story ended haunts me. So to Hell with the few editing lapses that annoyed me: when a book gets under your skin the way this one did, it deserves a full five stars and a spot on the “favorites” shelf.
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This book had been on my radar for a while, and not just because of the (utterly inappropriate) comparison to “The Night Circus”, a book I guiltily adored a few years ago (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...). I had a feeling that “The Lonely Hearts Hotel” was a romance, a genre that I have mixed feelings about at the best of times. And I was ready to overlook that, because I enjoy stories of star-crossed lovers just as much as the next gal: but if you put those poor doomed idiots in my beloved city, during a time period I am mildly obsessed with, then add a good dose of grit and sex, and sprinkle a bit of music and vaguely circus-inspired performances (a local obsession, after all), then you have sold me a book! And since I have no problem with “bad words” that start with C (though context is key here) and decadent settings, this book seemed tailor-made to make me happy.
Pierrot and Rose are born in just about the worse circumstances one can imagine: one is the product of an incestuous rape, while the other’s mother was kicked out of her house for letting herself be impregnated by a neighborhood boy. They end up in a seedy, nun-managed orphanage on the northern edge of Montreal, in 1914. It’s a horrible way to grow up, in a dirty Dickensian sort of way: cold winters, hard manual work, senseless beatings and punishments, no affection… and sometimes entirely the wrong kind of affection. The only good thing those two abandoned children have is each other: Pierrot quickly shows great talent for the piano, and Rose is a gifted dancer and acrobat, which could be their ticket to a better life - but fate has something very different in store for them. While the way they feel about each other is obvious to everyone, they are cruelly separated and thrown into the unfriendly world of the Great Depression, where only the most ruthless people thrive, while the sentimental artists are bound to face the unhappiest of circumstances. And those circumstances will be both highly disturbing and graphically described.
I would call this novel magical realism, because even if nothing particularly magical happens (again, nothing like “The Night Circus”, where things are literally magical), you have to suspend disbelief to enjoy this story. The very essence of Pierrot and Rose’s characters are as unrealistic as they come: Pierrot is ethereally, delicately beautiful, can talk like a gentleman and play the piano like a prodigy while Rose has a will of iron, a bottomless imagination and the kind of big dark eyes that apparently renders everyone helpless. People like that simply don’t exist, but it’s lovely to imagine that they do and that they find each other. It’s also lovely to imagine that their bond is strong enough to survive destitution, drug addition, abject poverty and every imaginable kind of abuse. I am kind of a sucker for stories about how the downtrodden and misfits manage to find happiness in the ugly, messed-up world they live in, and this is the essence of this book. I like the juxtaposition of the elegant and delicate aesthetic of the 30s splattered in the squalor of street life: there's something twisted and sensual in this story that you can't look away from, and the images O'Neill created and put in my head are vulgar, surreal, beautiful and outrageous. Her characters’ thoughts about desire, love and their options (or lack thereof) in a world that preys on dreamers and women are tragic, poetic, paradoxical and depressing. But oh so charmingly written. And while the end is predictably tragic, it strikes a perfectly satisfying and balanced note.
The only problem I have with this book is that the prose is sporadically uneven : O’Neill goes from ornately crafted paragraphs that summon incredible images and feelings… to short, flat sentences that don’t seem like they were worked on at all. And occasionally, her turn of phrase is pretty inconsistent with the setting of her story. This may not seem like much, but it felt very jarring to me, because it essentially pulled me out of the story every time I would hit one of those underworked sentences, or anachronistic words. And I really, really wanted to lose myself in her world, no matter how twisted and fucked up it got! So regardless of how weird and titillating the story is, I knew early it could never be a 5-star read, just because the editor had not been rigorous enough… I enjoyed it enough to keep it at 4 stars, but this irritant was hard to get over. Please don’t let my complaint stop you: if you can’t stomach stories about sexual abuse, violence, drug addiction and animal abuse, then avoid this book. Otherwise, it is absolutely worth checking it out. Yup, it is a historical romance, but it’s neither prim nor saccharine, and when it's well written, it’s intoxicating....more
If I had read this beautiful and bittersweet short story a few years back, it might not have moved me the way it did. But rI was not expecting this...
If I had read this beautiful and bittersweet short story a few years back, it might not have moved me the way it did. But reading it now made something inside me swell up as if it would explode. That's why we read, though, isn't it? To feel all the feels.
Elma York's work as an astronaut blazed the trail to the colonization of Mars. But she is 68 now, and she misses the stars from her sort-of retirement. An opportunity for a final mission comes along, but accepting it would mean leaving behind her terminally ill husband...
I love when sci-fi makes you feel more human. Kowal poured so much about love, loyalty, dreams and sacrifice in this handful of pages, and it took my breath away. I won't be missing the Elma York novel coming out this summer....more
Ah, to be young and bookish and to hate your status as a child… To want to be part of the grown-ups' world, to want to understand their strange actionAh, to be young and bookish and to hate your status as a child… To want to be part of the grown-ups' world, to want to understand their strange actions and their esoteric social codes, which seem so mysterious and sophisticated… As we get older we often realize that none of this is quite as glamorous as we had imagined, and the rear-view mirror of memory can give new meanings to events we thought we understood so well in our youth…
Briony is the youngest child of rather comfortable British family, between the two World Wars. One hot summer afternoon, when cousins and a friend of her older brother Leon's are visiting, a strange series of events will change Briony's life. She will witness a mysterious scene between her older sister Cecilia and their housekeeper's son, Robbie; her thirteen years old eyes will interpret their interaction and the following events very differently from what actually happened and by the end of that day, nothing will ever be the same… From there on, we follow Robbie and Cecilia's story, as they deal with the consequences of Briony's not-so-innocent mistake, and with the young girl's long and excruciating journey for forgiveness.
I am late on the band-wagon, as usual, and this is my first McEwan novel. And now I am kicking myself for not having checked this book out sooner. His prose is lush with gorgeous images and sensations - I found myself reading slower than usual to make the pleasure last a little bit longer. The characterization is amazing, as we get under every character's skin, explore their thoughts, what haunts and motivates them - and it is captivating! McEwan's mastery of language blew me away, as did his use of symbolism and clever narrative structure. A story about a mistake in judgement could never be told from a single point of view, it has to be explored from many angles, and he handled that with incredible skill.
What Briony does is a thoughtless act motivated by a whirlwind of immature feelings: jealousy, a need for attention, wanting to be taken seriously and feel "worldly", the budding fascination (and paradoxical repulsion) with sexuality that every young girl experiences... I've read many reviews that mention how much they hated her and how petty and selfish she was; have these readers ever met thirteen year old girls?! They are generally insufferable precisely because they are at that horribly awkward stage of growing up. Being a little girl doesn't work anymore, but no one treats them like adults either, so they are unpredictable and they act out. I am by no means excusing Briony's spiteful reaction; as the title of the book implies, she will spend the rest of her life paying for her mistake it in guilt and regret. What I am saying is how realistic I think she is; I didn't like her one bit, but I believed in her completely.
I am not a big love story fan, because I think most people can't write them up in any kind of honest and realistic way. Most people write about love-at-first sight or obsessive lust and neither of these things are love the way real people experience it, so I avoid books labeled as romances like the plague. I can count on the fingers of one hand the love stories I actually felt invested in, and Robbie and Cecilia's story is one of them. This is impressive given the fact that they are each other's first and only love, something I am usually very skeptical of. I was very moved by their devotion and how they give each other a reason to carry on in some of history's darkest days. I read the second half of this book with a lump in my throat, wondering what was wrong with me. In the end, I realized that nothing is wrong with me: McEwan is just fucking brilliant.
Cecilia is spoiled, but she turns out to have more character and inner strength than the rest of her family put together. Her faith in Robbie and her unwavering loyalty to him made her one of the greatest romantic heroines I've encountered in literature. As for Robbie, I couldn't help but admire his pride, his resilience and his fair-mindedness. For someone with such a bright and promising future to be disgraced and ruined the way he is would be tragic in and of itself, but the dignity with which he keeps moving and never gives up on his ultimate goal (to "live without shame": what a line!) made me root for him with my whole heart.
The ending made a lot of people angry, apparently, but I loved it. It made the heartbreaking parts of the story even more crushing and while we see that Briony can never really make peace with herself, she gave peace back to those she hurt the only way she could figure out how. I found that incredibly moving. Writing is a form of therapy to many writers: it's a way to talk about the things that linger on your mind without really talking about them exorcise demons, right wrongs and create a better world. This novel made me want to start writing again.
This was a wonderful and rewarding read, a rich mix of Austen, Forster, Waugh and Woolf, and I loved every word of it so much more than I could have anticipated. I saw the movie, and while I often can't stand the sight of Keira Knightley, I do think that she was a perfect Cecilia, and that the movie was a flawless adaptation that perfectly captured the tone of McEwan's writing. 5 very bright stars and a spot of my "favorites" shelf....more