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bi_n_large's review against another edition
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.75
Content Warnings
Graphic: Body horror, Blood, Death of parent, and Grief
Moderate: Gaslighting, Toxic friendship, Death, and Panic attacks/disorders
Minor: Lesbophobia, Violence, Sexual content, and Biphobia
megaoboid's review against another edition
dark
emotional
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
an emotional and very internal story. would’ve been a five star but there were parts that felt very unsatisfying and far too unfinished, more as though the author didn’t know what to do with them or couldn’t be bothered to shape them a bit more succinctly as opposed to simply wanting to leave them open.
i also removed another star because there was also a strange moment of very casual and in-your-face biphobia in the line of ‘bisexual women are actually just annoying straight women who desperately want attention’, which was absolutely and utterly bizarre, especially considering that this was the only time LGB sexuality is mentioned by name (other than sarcastic quips about ‘straight people’) in a book quite literally about two women married to one another. put a very foul taste in my mouth unfortunately, especially as the character - poppy - is only ever referred to negatively in every instance that she appears (her traits are introduced as follows: bisexual, attention-seeking, loud, annoying, always complaining). also seems as though we’re supposed to feel terribly sorry for her boyfriend, who we know nothing about? really strange and entirely unnecessary. it’s pretty easy to assume this stems from the authors personal beliefs, and it was horribly off putting and lingered through the rest of the book for me. very disappointing.
i also removed another star because there was also a strange moment of very casual and in-your-face biphobia in the line of ‘bisexual women are actually just annoying straight women who desperately want attention’, which was absolutely and utterly bizarre, especially considering that this was the only time LGB sexuality is mentioned by name (other than sarcastic quips about ‘straight people’) in a book quite literally about two women married to one another. put a very foul taste in my mouth unfortunately, especially as the character - poppy - is only ever referred to negatively in every instance that she appears (her traits are introduced as follows: bisexual, attention-seeking, loud, annoying, always complaining). also seems as though we’re supposed to feel terribly sorry for her boyfriend, who we know nothing about? really strange and entirely unnecessary. it’s pretty easy to assume this stems from the authors personal beliefs, and it was horribly off putting and lingered through the rest of the book for me. very disappointing.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Confinement, Medical trauma, Chronic illness, Grief, Body horror, Abandonment, Death, Death of parent, Mental illness, and Terminal illness
Moderate: Dementia, Forced institutionalization, Gaslighting, Mental illness, Biphobia, Injury/Injury detail, and Violence
bethsreading's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
mysterious
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Our Wives Under the Sea is a fantastic story of love, loss, and the deep, deep sea. It begins as a quietly gothic mystery, before building to its gently devastating end. It offers sharp glimpses of an intensely loving relationship, beautifully describing moments of true connection that each land with a heartbreaking blow. There is a creepiness to it that does not overpower the story, but adds a rough texture that works perfectly It does not need many pages to make a unique impact. It is better to go in to this story not knowing much in my opinion. So if you want a softly disturbing queer love story, jump in head first.
(I did dock a star because there was blatant biphobia/perpetuating of bisexual stereotypes which was genuinely upsetting to read from a queer author and pretty clearly reflects the personal beliefs of the author which is very disappointing)
(I did dock a star because there was blatant biphobia/perpetuating of bisexual stereotypes which was genuinely upsetting to read from a queer author and pretty clearly reflects the personal beliefs of the author which is very disappointing)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Confinement and Body horror
Moderate: Death of parent, Suicide, and Biphobia
Minor: Death and Biphobia
rosesofthespring's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
2.5
Armfield sets up a fantastic premise. What happens to people after the horror novel ends? How does it affect them? How does it affect their lives and loved ones? This is one of the more unique ideas I've ever seen for a split-POV novel.
Unfortunately, I can't say I enjoyed the execution. While I was very engaged with the mystery in Leah's chapters, I quickly grew soured on Miri's. I understand the concept. Miri is going through grief, which is one of - if not the - most challenging experience(s) in a person's life. She is flashing back to previous memorable moments and previous periods of grieving. While this makes sense in theory, in practice it means that 2/3rds of the book (Miri's chapters are much longer than Leah's) is rarely concerned with the central mystery.
Before I get too critical, I want to make it clear that there are many positives to this book. Armfield is extremely good at creating tension in a small space. The thoughts and behavior of people trapped in a confined space are shown well. Often I find that writers go too far in either direction, either opting for pure boredom or immediate claustrophobic panic. Armfield walks the line in a way that feels realistic. I also love the portrayal of the Centre as an unknowable horror in its own right, a bureaucratic monstrosity that's always sitting right at the edge of everyone's mind. The writing style fits the nostalgic, surreal nature of the story. The two POVs do not feel interchangeable the way they often do when handled by a less proficient author. The two women have distinct voices and thought patterns.
The rest of this review will be far more negative.
Miri flits in and out of engaging with the issue at hand, which is understandable, but whenever given the opportunity to get out of her own head, she refuses. This comes to a head when, 75% of the way through the book, someone shows up and basically says, "Hey, would you like to learn more about the central conflict?" To which she promptly responds, "No." and leaves. After spending more than 100 pages subjected to Miri's self-pitying, judgmental, unpleasant inner monologue, that scene felt like a joke at my expense.
I personally didn't feel like either storyline reached a satisfying conclusion, but YMMV there, that's extremely subjective. I think I can see what they were going for, at least in terms of handling Miri's relationship with grief, but it didn't feel like she experienced much significant growth. This might just be because the book ends immediately after a major character moment. I was left unsure whether I was supposed to read it literally or metaphorically. This ambiguity is very likely intentional, but the fact remains that it didn't feel substantial to me.
There are two strange things, given the air of mysteries, that are never resolved in the text.1. The upstairs neighbors. I feel like this is supposed to be simple set dressing, but an enormous amount of time is dedicated to it. I started thinking they must tie into the story when Miri pointed out that she'd never seen anyone up there, and she didn't hear any signs of life aside from the TV changing channels. I don't really understand the point of setting all that up if it's not supposed to be important. I guess it was just intended to amplify the surreal nature of Miri's situation. 2. The strange phone calls. I guess these were also just intended as a weird little quirk. When it turned out that a second character had been receiving similar calls, I held out hope that there would be some kind of explanation. Alas, no. I understand that over-explanation is the death of horror, but sometimes under-explanation becomes equally frustrating.
On a non-plot note: there is one bisexual woman introduced in the course of this book. She is portrayed as an argumentative lush with no sense of personal boundaries. The very first piece of description we get is that she is, quote, "loudly bisexual," a fact which I was delighted by. Then it quickly becomes clear that this description is intended as an insult. The fact that "she likes people to know" about her bisexuality is treated like a flaw. A detriment to a person who is otherwise "all right." This character is brought up a couple more times through the book, exclusively so people can talk about how much they don't like her. I'm not saying it's unacceptable to have portrayals of marginalized characters who behave badly and are generally disliked. I'm not even saying this character's behavior is unrealistic or poorly written. My problem is that every moment of a character's portrayal is a choice the author makes. When this is the only bisexual character in a book marketed toward an LGBT audience, it feels less like an in-universe fact and more like an author's statement. If Armfield finds the presence of people like me so wholly unpleasant, I promise I will not sully the pages of any of her other works with my loudly bisexual hands.
Unfortunately, I can't say I enjoyed the execution. While I was very engaged with the mystery in Leah's chapters, I quickly grew soured on Miri's. I understand the concept. Miri is going through grief, which is one of - if not the - most challenging experience(s) in a person's life. She is flashing back to previous memorable moments and previous periods of grieving. While this makes sense in theory, in practice it means that 2/3rds of the book (Miri's chapters are much longer than Leah's) is rarely concerned with the central mystery.
Before I get too critical, I want to make it clear that there are many positives to this book. Armfield is extremely good at creating tension in a small space. The thoughts and behavior of people trapped in a confined space are shown well. Often I find that writers go too far in either direction, either opting for pure boredom or immediate claustrophobic panic. Armfield walks the line in a way that feels realistic. I also love the portrayal of the Centre as an unknowable horror in its own right, a bureaucratic monstrosity that's always sitting right at the edge of everyone's mind. The writing style fits the nostalgic, surreal nature of the story. The two POVs do not feel interchangeable the way they often do when handled by a less proficient author. The two women have distinct voices and thought patterns.
The rest of this review will be far more negative.
Miri flits in and out of engaging with the issue at hand, which is understandable, but whenever given the opportunity to get out of her own head, she refuses. This comes to a head when, 75% of the way through the book, someone shows up and basically says, "Hey, would you like to learn more about the central conflict?" To which she promptly responds, "No." and leaves. After spending more than 100 pages subjected to Miri's self-pitying, judgmental, unpleasant inner monologue, that scene felt like a joke at my expense.
I personally didn't feel like either storyline reached a satisfying conclusion, but YMMV there, that's extremely subjective. I think I can see what they were going for, at least in terms of handling Miri's relationship with grief, but it didn't feel like she experienced much significant growth. This might just be because the book ends immediately after a major character moment. I was left unsure whether I was supposed to read it literally or metaphorically. This ambiguity is very likely intentional, but the fact remains that it didn't feel substantial to me.
There are two strange things, given the air of mysteries, that are never resolved in the text.
On a non-plot note: there is one bisexual woman introduced in the course of this book. She is portrayed as an argumentative lush with no sense of personal boundaries. The very first piece of description we get is that she is, quote, "loudly bisexual," a fact which I was delighted by. Then it quickly becomes clear that this description is intended as an insult. The fact that "she likes people to know" about her bisexuality is treated like a flaw. A detriment to a person who is otherwise "all right." This character is brought up a couple more times through the book, exclusively so people can talk about how much they don't like her. I'm not saying it's unacceptable to have portrayals of marginalized characters who behave badly and are generally disliked. I'm not even saying this character's behavior is unrealistic or poorly written. My problem is that every moment of a character's portrayal is a choice the author makes. When this is the only bisexual character in a book marketed toward an LGBT audience, it feels less like an in-universe fact and more like an author's statement. If Armfield finds the presence of people like me so wholly unpleasant, I promise I will not sully the pages of any of her other works with my loudly bisexual hands.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Blood, Body horror, Vomit, Grief, Confinement, and Death of parent
Moderate: Death, Dementia, Homophobia, Lesbophobia, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , Animal death, Cursing, Alcohol, and Biphobia
sarah984's review against another edition
challenging
dark
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
This book is definitely not for everyone - it's a slow, almost meditative book and it doesn't exactly tie up neatly at the end - but I really enjoyed it. Miri's wife Leah was missing for months after her submarine mission for a mysterious oceanography centre went awry (or did it??), and upon her miraculous return, she's changed in some pretty fundamental ways. The book is divided into sections where Miri is dealing with her grief and frustration in the present, and where Leah is telling the story of what happened on the mission in the past.
I do wish that Leah had gotten a POV chapter in the present, and a few of Miri's chapters had some weird biphobia for no real reason, but other than that I loved it.
I do wish that Leah had gotten a POV chapter in the present, and a few of Miri's chapters had some weird biphobia for no real reason, but other than that I loved it.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Body horror, Confinement, and Grief
Moderate: Death, Medical content, Terminal illness, Blood, Chronic illness, Death of parent, Injury/Injury detail, and Mental illness
Minor: Ableism, Homophobia, Sexual content, Suicide, Biphobia, Vomit, Animal death, and Eating disorder
random19379's review
adventurous
mysterious
reflective
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
Content Warnings
Minor: Confinement, Death of parent, Body horror, Suicide, Terminal illness, Biphobia, and Grief
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