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3.69 AVERAGE
3.69 AVERAGE
I enjoyed this very much. It’s not a novel in the usual sense, but rather a series of short, witty, passionate vignettes about famous lesbians, mostly in the late 19th and early 20th century. It's sprinkled in with observations by an undefined first-person-plural (whom I imagine to represent modern-day lesbians). Throughout the book, Sappho is held out as the dream, the ideal, the vision wrested away from academia, the longed-for foremother.
The sensibilities are modern, the writing lovely, and the anecdotes fascinating. You could read it in spicy little bites; you don’t have to take it in all at once.
Some quotes:
< We dreamed of islands where we could write poems that kept our lovers up all night. In our letters, we murmured the fragments of our desires to each other, breaking the lines in our impatience. We were going to be Sappho, but how did Sappho begin to become herself? >
< But Lina Poletti was a brash young poet who believed that if you wanted someone, you wrote verses that poured violets into her lap. You led her down to dewy riverbanks in the evening and you made sure that when she arose again, mosses feathery in her hair, she would never be the same. >
< Lina, Sibilla told us, spoke in a low voice and was difficult to explain in words. Moreover, when Lina desired someone, she would often change her name. Ardent, mysterious letters would arrive to you from whoever Lina was, Sibilla said, and you simply had to know. Or you guessed, because it could not have been anyone else. The letters were like hushed breaths on the back of your neck: you wanted to turn around and embrace them, but you also wanted to wait, feeling them arrive one after the other, steady and thrilling. >
< Radclyffe Hall had no patience with the House of Commons, but she thought the House of Lords could be made to understand: a lesbian was a gentleman of the highest order. She herself exemplified the finest qualities of an Englishman: she was decent, reasonable, and an excellent shot. Her wife, the Lady Una Troubridge, was a noblewoman who kept small dogs. In other words, there was no difference between Radclyffe Hall and the most upstanding citizen of the British Empire, she was as good a fellow as any other John. >
< The Divine Sarah fed the wolf cubs cream from her saucer and gave Colette a smile that showed all of her teeth; an irreducible smile, Colette told us, even at eighty Sarah Bernhardt went straight up to the gates of death and demanding her life, more life. >
< Virginia Woolf paced the bank of the Seine, each step making a word in the question: who was Mrs D? who might have been? who in fact was? A cigarette dangled and burnt away in her fingers. She crossed the Pont Marie, she crossed the Pont Saint-Louis. A man hawking newspapers on the bridge was calling out the headlines, garbling the wind. In a street on the Ile de la Cité a flower seller was nestling irises into a bed of ferns and wild fennel. Wrapped in newspaper, the flowers would soak through the words. >
< It sprung upon me how I could revolutionise biography in a night, Virginia wrote to Vita, and all it needs is you; shall you mind? Daringly Vita replied that Virginia might have every crevice of her, every shadow and string of pearlescent thought, her very sinews to braid. >
The sensibilities are modern, the writing lovely, and the anecdotes fascinating. You could read it in spicy little bites; you don’t have to take it in all at once.
Some quotes:
< We dreamed of islands where we could write poems that kept our lovers up all night. In our letters, we murmured the fragments of our desires to each other, breaking the lines in our impatience. We were going to be Sappho, but how did Sappho begin to become herself? >
< But Lina Poletti was a brash young poet who believed that if you wanted someone, you wrote verses that poured violets into her lap. You led her down to dewy riverbanks in the evening and you made sure that when she arose again, mosses feathery in her hair, she would never be the same. >
< Lina, Sibilla told us, spoke in a low voice and was difficult to explain in words. Moreover, when Lina desired someone, she would often change her name. Ardent, mysterious letters would arrive to you from whoever Lina was, Sibilla said, and you simply had to know. Or you guessed, because it could not have been anyone else. The letters were like hushed breaths on the back of your neck: you wanted to turn around and embrace them, but you also wanted to wait, feeling them arrive one after the other, steady and thrilling. >
< Radclyffe Hall had no patience with the House of Commons, but she thought the House of Lords could be made to understand: a lesbian was a gentleman of the highest order. She herself exemplified the finest qualities of an Englishman: she was decent, reasonable, and an excellent shot. Her wife, the Lady Una Troubridge, was a noblewoman who kept small dogs. In other words, there was no difference between Radclyffe Hall and the most upstanding citizen of the British Empire, she was as good a fellow as any other John. >
< The Divine Sarah fed the wolf cubs cream from her saucer and gave Colette a smile that showed all of her teeth; an irreducible smile, Colette told us, even at eighty Sarah Bernhardt went straight up to the gates of death and demanding her life, more life. >
< Virginia Woolf paced the bank of the Seine, each step making a word in the question: who was Mrs D? who might have been? who in fact was? A cigarette dangled and burnt away in her fingers. She crossed the Pont Marie, she crossed the Pont Saint-Louis. A man hawking newspapers on the bridge was calling out the headlines, garbling the wind. In a street on the Ile de la Cité a flower seller was nestling irises into a bed of ferns and wild fennel. Wrapped in newspaper, the flowers would soak through the words. >
< It sprung upon me how I could revolutionise biography in a night, Virginia wrote to Vita, and all it needs is you; shall you mind? Daringly Vita replied that Virginia might have every crevice of her, every shadow and string of pearlescent thought, her very sinews to braid. >
I really enjoyed this strange book. The writing style was at times hard to follow. But I loved the little glimpses and the reveals along the way. No one character is particularly developed. But it’s a wonderful slice of life window into speculative moments in the lives of interesting women.
I was disappointed I didn’t like this book more cause I really thought I would love it. I think my dyslexic brain was just not well suited to it and I could not handle all the different characters and stories. However, I thought it was a cool idea and I still enjoyed parts of it. I kind of felt like I was receiving a history lesson at times but I didn’t hate that.
I learned a lot from this book, and the writing is quite beautiful and masterful, so I salute the author for that! and this is an important novel! BUT it just wasn’t that engaging! like i am very interested in/have a decent base knowledge of sapphic history and literary history and i still found this novel difficult to follow at times. at the end of the day, it just did not have me turning pages and that’s why it’s getting 3 stars from me instead of 4.
reflective
medium-paced
Brilliant, bold. Complex, challenging. Difficult, detailed.
I am just in awe at this experience.
Mind. Blown.
I am just in awe at this experience.
Mind. Blown.
adventurous
challenging
emotional
informative
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
hopeful
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
I really enjoyed reading this book. I found it engaging and felt very represented by it. I think it’s a great merging of classics, history and saphism. For me criticism comes with the lack of diversity, which felt like such a missed opportunity. I wish this book worked harder to include more people.
Luminous, experimental, lush; snapshots of women mixed with erotic musings on grammar. A magnificent book.