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3.52 AVERAGE
3.52 AVERAGE
dark
reflective
fast-paced
There’s a great many things hard to fathom immediately after you finish a book that set themselves straight only later, in solitude, in memory. Like removing a pair of smudged-up glasses that fuzzed everything you saw. Red Hood troubled me for days, simmered in the cauldron of my mind. Many things about this novel did not sit well with me, and hung like gun smoke in the air.
I couldn’t put myself into the picture of it. And here, I think, is the reason why.
But first, what is this book about?
Bisou’s earliest memories were such chaos in her recollection, but they had festered and burned cinders into her mind: her father’s presence and how they lived with the threat of it like a knife at their backs, an escape and the giddy lightness of safety that never came, her mother’s voice whispering: “n’oublie pas d’oublier”, desperate for the bleak velvet of forgetfulness and its nothingness, then her absence like the loss of a limb.
Years later, when she is attacked in the woods by a vicious wolf, something red and primal at the core of Bisou snarls at the assault, demanding blood, demanding the offense be returned with a hard lesson, and Bisou faces the wolf with a fury like a fever. The next day, the discovery of a dead boy in the same spot in the woods with wounds not unlike the ones Bisou inflicted upon the wolf brings with it the buzzing sense of realization: could it be that boys with holes in their minds that needed to be filled with other people’s pain, who wanted for nothing but still found things to take, turned into wolves, their skin flowing into a thousand different shapes of fur and fangs and flesh?
Bisou felt her rage still brimming and unspent. She was like a hound that finally caught the scent it sought: she would track these boys—these wolves—like flags to be chased for sport, scales of justice in one hand and claws in the other.
Elana K.Arnauld’s novel takes on ever-relevant subjects (toxic masculinity, sexual assault, female empowerment), and reworks the Red Riding Hood fairytale in the service of poetic revenge. But the premise withers on the page, fails to thrive and bear fruit. And it isn’t long before the novel leaps a chasm into preposterous territory.
What I found was a book stuffed with relentless, far-fetched plotting, thought experiments masquerading as characters (with especially disturbing implications given some late, weak plotlines), and a frustratingly glib ending that simmered in the air, as bitter as ash.
Though the last scene was left to float in the air a bit, I realized instantly, and with some considerable astonishment, what the author was getting at: the novel’s consoling message, stirring in the slaughter-numbed blankness of the book’s final pages, is that some people are beyond all hope of redemption, and would only cause grief and suffering as long as they were allowed to live. That hate should be met with hate, and that morality is a ring one could just take off on a whim. But most incredulous of all: that a group of smart and accomplished young women could shut the tailgate on their moral compass, and unleash themselves for murder, killing boys as quickly and efficiently as removing the yolks from the whites—and face no repercussions. Yes. Men get away with killing women all the times, the law even provides generous room for it. The thought of these monsters going unpunished, of walking untroubled in the world—it would lit a hellfire in anyone’s heart. But is the answer to patriarchal violence just more violence?
Truthfully, the cause of my shock is not the unbridled violence of it. I’ve read books where the rules of morality were sieves with holes so large that all sorts of things could pass through, but a novel born this way should have a broader dynamic to it, whether it's satirical, poetic or simply poignant. Yet, there is a hollowness at the heart of Red Hood, a brittleness like plate glass shivering. The novel fails to throw into question the motivations of its characters to do right, and their tendency to rationalize their own worst ideas without truly understanding the possibility of disaster, or even examine the fact that Bisou and her friends have become a part of that same conveyor belt of death they denounced. This does not bode well for a novel that starts with a clarion call for accountability, a battle cry for “girls like us” who cannot fight back and those actively working to dismantle the system. “It’s not that we need more wolf hunters,” Bisou says at one point, “it’s that we need men to stop becoming wolves.” I can't say the way this book ends reflect that sentiment.
Another idea in Red Hood that comes with a horrific aftertaste is Bisou’s powers being tied to the moon and her menstrual cycle. The author doesn’t shy away from describing periods in blood-drenched details, and I really relished the fact that the novel takes a hammer to the taboo around menstruation.
That said, the more I sat with this idea, the more it slipped, taking on a strange and unfamiliar form. I found the representation of queer people—especially trans people—a missed opportunity. The novel’s biggest misstep, for me, is that not only it fails to acknowledge that not all women menstruate, that some men menstruate, and that non-binary people exist as well within that system, but in a novel about violence against women, the exclusion of trans women’s experience as a demographic that suffers particularly high rates of murder is egregious. According to an article by the New York Times, at least 18 transgender and gender non-conforming people have been killed in the US in 2019—and those are only the reported cases. The real number is, sadly, likely higher.
Ultimately, the view of feminism that we get from Red Hood is predominately white, straight and cis-gendered, and that further dampened the would-be poignancy of the novel’s overall voice.
If you liked this review please consider leaving me a tip on ko-fi!
I couldn’t put myself into the picture of it. And here, I think, is the reason why.
But first, what is this book about?
Bisou’s earliest memories were such chaos in her recollection, but they had festered and burned cinders into her mind: her father’s presence and how they lived with the threat of it like a knife at their backs, an escape and the giddy lightness of safety that never came, her mother’s voice whispering: “n’oublie pas d’oublier”, desperate for the bleak velvet of forgetfulness and its nothingness, then her absence like the loss of a limb.
Years later, when she is attacked in the woods by a vicious wolf, something red and primal at the core of Bisou snarls at the assault, demanding blood, demanding the offense be returned with a hard lesson, and Bisou faces the wolf with a fury like a fever. The next day, the discovery of a dead boy in the same spot in the woods with wounds not unlike the ones Bisou inflicted upon the wolf brings with it the buzzing sense of realization: could it be that boys with holes in their minds that needed to be filled with other people’s pain, who wanted for nothing but still found things to take, turned into wolves, their skin flowing into a thousand different shapes of fur and fangs and flesh?
Bisou felt her rage still brimming and unspent. She was like a hound that finally caught the scent it sought: she would track these boys—these wolves—like flags to be chased for sport, scales of justice in one hand and claws in the other.
The truth is, I have been among wolves. I’ll bet many of you have been, as well.
Elana K.Arnauld’s novel takes on ever-relevant subjects (toxic masculinity, sexual assault, female empowerment), and reworks the Red Riding Hood fairytale in the service of poetic revenge. But the premise withers on the page, fails to thrive and bear fruit. And it isn’t long before the novel leaps a chasm into preposterous territory.
What I found was a book stuffed with relentless, far-fetched plotting, thought experiments masquerading as characters (with especially disturbing implications given some late, weak plotlines), and a frustratingly glib ending that simmered in the air, as bitter as ash.
Though the last scene was left to float in the air a bit, I realized instantly, and with some considerable astonishment, what the author was getting at: the novel’s consoling message, stirring in the slaughter-numbed blankness of the book’s final pages, is that some people are beyond all hope of redemption, and would only cause grief and suffering as long as they were allowed to live. That hate should be met with hate, and that morality is a ring one could just take off on a whim. But most incredulous of all: that a group of smart and accomplished young women could shut the tailgate on their moral compass, and unleash themselves for murder, killing boys as quickly and efficiently as removing the yolks from the whites—and face no repercussions. Yes. Men get away with killing women all the times, the law even provides generous room for it. The thought of these monsters going unpunished, of walking untroubled in the world—it would lit a hellfire in anyone’s heart. But is the answer to patriarchal violence just more violence?
Truthfully, the cause of my shock is not the unbridled violence of it. I’ve read books where the rules of morality were sieves with holes so large that all sorts of things could pass through, but a novel born this way should have a broader dynamic to it, whether it's satirical, poetic or simply poignant. Yet, there is a hollowness at the heart of Red Hood, a brittleness like plate glass shivering. The novel fails to throw into question the motivations of its characters to do right, and their tendency to rationalize their own worst ideas without truly understanding the possibility of disaster, or even examine the fact that Bisou and her friends have become a part of that same conveyor belt of death they denounced. This does not bode well for a novel that starts with a clarion call for accountability, a battle cry for “girls like us” who cannot fight back and those actively working to dismantle the system. “It’s not that we need more wolf hunters,” Bisou says at one point, “it’s that we need men to stop becoming wolves.” I can't say the way this book ends reflect that sentiment.
Another idea in Red Hood that comes with a horrific aftertaste is Bisou’s powers being tied to the moon and her menstrual cycle. The author doesn’t shy away from describing periods in blood-drenched details, and I really relished the fact that the novel takes a hammer to the taboo around menstruation.
That said, the more I sat with this idea, the more it slipped, taking on a strange and unfamiliar form. I found the representation of queer people—especially trans people—a missed opportunity. The novel’s biggest misstep, for me, is that not only it fails to acknowledge that not all women menstruate, that some men menstruate, and that non-binary people exist as well within that system, but in a novel about violence against women, the exclusion of trans women’s experience as a demographic that suffers particularly high rates of murder is egregious. According to an article by the New York Times, at least 18 transgender and gender non-conforming people have been killed in the US in 2019—and those are only the reported cases. The real number is, sadly, likely higher.
Ultimately, the view of feminism that we get from Red Hood is predominately white, straight and cis-gendered, and that further dampened the would-be poignancy of the novel’s overall voice.
If you liked this review please consider leaving me a tip on ko-fi!
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Tried to listen to this audio book. Got about 25% in. DNF. Every other word was either nipple, penis or vagina. Also indepth description of changing a heavy flow tampon...no thanks!
3.5/5
Now, this was definitely an interesting read. I actually kinda liked the writing style of "you" and just how descriptive it was. It was very immersed without being too overboard. Now, the main issues I had was the poetry (yawn), the randomly added scenes in between the action (like the mom), the overly long section of the grandmother's story (I think it could have been more powerful in dialogue), and finally, the ending.
The ending was quite boring and uneventful in my opinion. Like, if you are going to end on the father of this girl (whose name I shall never remember nor be able to spell), then I would like to see her meet this guy beforehand. Him even learning about her powers would be cool. Honestly, I skimmed at the end because it was just so boring. Also, what about the mystery with the boys. Why are they wolves? It felt like wasted potential.
For characters, the main girl was a baddie but sometimes, I didn't care about her enough. Like she was okay, but never cared about her relationship with James or even that other girl (started with K or C). I loved Maggie-- she was actually one of the more interesting characters in this story, and would have loved to see her as the main character honestly. That other girl with K or C name was just unlikeable and didn't care about her at all.
Finally, I felt like the message was decent. It wasn't about killing all guys, but rather ridding our society of the disgusting beliefs that oppress people. Now, the wolf aspect could have been better done but it was an interesting take on Little Red.
Note: I was shook by how sexual this book was. Now some people think that young adults can't handle such talk, I don't agree. We need to make better distinctions in YA genre (13/14 and younger, and 15/16 and up) for readers because I think the sex talk was realistic and healthy (especially in consideration of MC and her boyfriend). Idk what age group this was for, but in case, you are considering this book for a young teen, I wouldn't quite yet.
Now, this was definitely an interesting read. I actually kinda liked the writing style of "you" and just how descriptive it was. It was very immersed without being too overboard. Now, the main issues I had was the poetry (yawn), the randomly added scenes in between the action (like the mom), the overly long section of the grandmother's story (I think it could have been more powerful in dialogue), and finally, the ending.
The ending was quite boring and uneventful in my opinion. Like, if you are going to end on the father of this girl (whose name I shall never remember nor be able to spell), then I would like to see her meet this guy beforehand. Him even learning about her powers would be cool. Honestly, I skimmed at the end because it was just so boring. Also, what about the mystery with the boys. Why are they wolves? It felt like wasted potential.
For characters, the main girl was a baddie but sometimes, I didn't care about her enough. Like she was okay, but never cared about her relationship with James or even that other girl (started with K or C). I loved Maggie-- she was actually one of the more interesting characters in this story, and would have loved to see her as the main character honestly. That other girl with K or C name was just unlikeable and didn't care about her at all.
Finally, I felt like the message was decent. It wasn't about killing all guys, but rather ridding our society of the disgusting beliefs that oppress people. Now, the wolf aspect could have been better done but it was an interesting take on Little Red.
Note: I was shook by how sexual this book was. Now some people think that young adults can't handle such talk, I don't agree. We need to make better distinctions in YA genre (13/14 and younger, and 15/16 and up) for readers because I think the sex talk was realistic and healthy (especially in consideration of MC and her boyfriend). Idk what age group this was for, but in case, you are considering this book for a young teen, I wouldn't quite yet.
I don’t really know how I feel about this one. It was a cool story and but I didn’t find it to be that gripping or enjoyable. It seems more forgettable than Arnold’s previous book but overall an okay read.
I read this one in service of the librarian at the school where I work. She was a bit thrown by the graphic depiction of oral sex in the first few pages and wanted a second opinion about whether we should include it in our library. I don’t think we should censor what we offer our children to read, but I’m not sure that I would have been ready for this at 14 or 15 (though I would have told myself I was). But YA is MUCH different now than it was 20 years ago.
In short: the book’s message (that toxic masculinity transforms some men into beasts, and the best way for women to combat it is to band together and support one another) is confused by incongruous storytelling (yo, violence deserves more violence; here’s a plot point about one particular character’s sexual exploitation that we will never truly resolve, but here—take this fairy tale parallel instead).
I DO like that it flips the narrative on things that are typically taboo—menstruation, STI’s, etc.—and that it shines a light on the dangers of incel rhetoric. It just felt a little too shallow and mystical to really be effective—but I’m an adult, and it wasn’t written for me. I could see where it might be empowering for young women readers, but I think that the ultimate implication, that some people’s thinking and behavior are so flawed that murdering them is a service to society, might muddy the waters. Not that women don’t deserve some righteous anger, but...is it really righteous if we’re reduced to hunters without remorse?
In short: the book’s message (that toxic masculinity transforms some men into beasts, and the best way for women to combat it is to band together and support one another) is confused by incongruous storytelling (yo, violence deserves more violence; here’s a plot point about one particular character’s sexual exploitation that we will never truly resolve, but here—take this fairy tale parallel instead).
I DO like that it flips the narrative on things that are typically taboo—menstruation, STI’s, etc.—and that it shines a light on the dangers of incel rhetoric. It just felt a little too shallow and mystical to really be effective—but I’m an adult, and it wasn’t written for me. I could see where it might be empowering for young women readers, but I think that the ultimate implication, that some people’s thinking and behavior are so flawed that murdering them is a service to society, might muddy the waters. Not that women don’t deserve some righteous anger, but...is it really righteous if we’re reduced to hunters without remorse?
Second person? No. No, no, no. The second person POV made this story insufferable. It definitely was too much with the author's personal style. I really enjoyed DAMSEL, but this one fell so flat for me. Honestly, DNF.
I'm all for the dark fairy tale vibe, but this was an eyeroller for me.
I'm all for the dark fairy tale vibe, but this was an eyeroller for me.
I'm honestly split down the middle on this one. I liked it more at the end than I did at the beginning but I am confused because I can't really articulate why that is.
I picked up Red Hood because Elana K. Arnold's Damsel received a Printz honor in 2019. At first, I was thrown by the narration of second person. It's hard to stick with an entire novel for a narrative style that I personally think is best with short stories. Anyway... Arnold situates her story almost like a high school drama, which I understand, as her novel is being packaged as YA, but I can't say I preferred it that way. In terms of characterization, this book suffers from "secondary characters are more interesting than the protagonist" syndrome. Second person narration should result in a deeper exposure of the MC but this just didn't really happen until like the last two chapters.
Red Hood attempts to tackle difficult topics such as menstruation, toxic masculinity, rape, domestic abuse, and victim blaming; some themes are addressed more effectively than others. I say that because by the end of this book I was asking myself what Red Hood was actually about... was this a cautionary tale about toxic masculinity or was it a call of action for female empowerment? I am still not sure... And I found some aspects very troublesome as to how the women tackle toxic masculinity. Murder is not a practical solution for solving this issue. So that SUPER bothered me. What are teens supposed to take away from that? Gang up on guys and kill them because they're being metaphorical wolves? Come on. BUT, I really did like the friendship that blossomed between the female characters , and the inter-generational female relationships that occur in this novel and for that I am leaving it at 3 stars. Another aspect I liked is how Bisou was able to connect with her mother through the shared love of poetry. I wish the author would have explored this a little more because the medium of writing seems to be one of the ways that Arnold gives her characters as agency against exposing toxic masculinity. Keisha uses her position at the school paper to call out incels and misogyny, and Bisou and her grandmother use poetry to discuss and explore feminine power. Again, would have loved a little more commitment to this part of the story.
All in all, I didn't hate this book but I am left disappointed because it had potential. But I can't give it any less than 3 stars because skill was not absent, it just needed more attention carved out to some of the massive themes/topics Arnold is trying to confront.
I picked up Red Hood because Elana K. Arnold's Damsel received a Printz honor in 2019. At first, I was thrown by the narration of second person. It's hard to stick with an entire novel for a narrative style that I personally think is best with short stories. Anyway... Arnold situates her story almost like a high school drama, which I understand, as her novel is being packaged as YA, but I can't say I preferred it that way. In terms of characterization, this book suffers from "secondary characters are more interesting than the protagonist" syndrome. Second person narration should result in a deeper exposure of the MC but this just didn't really happen until like the last two chapters.
Red Hood attempts to tackle difficult topics such as menstruation, toxic masculinity, rape, domestic abuse, and victim blaming; some themes are addressed more effectively than others. I say that because by the end of this book I was asking myself what Red Hood was actually about... was this a cautionary tale about toxic masculinity or was it a call of action for female empowerment? I am still not sure... And I found some aspects very troublesome as to how the women tackle toxic masculinity. Murder is not a practical solution for solving this issue. So that SUPER bothered me. What are teens supposed to take away from that? Gang up on guys and kill them because they're being metaphorical wolves? Come on. BUT, I really did like the friendship that blossomed between the female characters , and the inter-generational female relationships that occur in this novel and for that I am leaving it at 3 stars. Another aspect I liked is how Bisou was able to connect with her mother through the shared love of poetry. I wish the author would have explored this a little more because the medium of writing seems to be one of the ways that Arnold gives her characters as agency against exposing toxic masculinity. Keisha uses her position at the school paper to call out incels and misogyny, and Bisou and her grandmother use poetry to discuss and explore feminine power. Again, would have loved a little more commitment to this part of the story.
All in all, I didn't hate this book but I am left disappointed because it had potential. But I can't give it any less than 3 stars because skill was not absent, it just needed more attention carved out to some of the massive themes/topics Arnold is trying to confront.