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4.0 AVERAGE
4.0 AVERAGE
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
reflective
sad
medium-paced
challenging
funny
reflective
fast-paced
I recieved a copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review
I honestly don't know how to rate this, so 3/5 it is. On the one hand, I'm nosy and lonely as hell because the isolation never really ended for me after the pandemic, so reading a day to day recount from some random person's life was something I liked, to an extent. But if I thought about it too much, it ended up spiraling towards "why the fuck am I reading this? why do I care?".
And on the other hand, this book is a piece of history. 50 years from now it'll be a very interesting read. But I lived through the pandemic, am still caught in the aftermath, and none of this is news to me. She seemed to be allowed to go to more places than I was, and she spent the whole thing with someone she loves and is only mildly annoyed at sometimes, which is something I didn't get to do, so sometimes it was like I felt that my experience was more of a history document than this book. Which is really shitty to think, because I don't mean to sound like those "my three year old could've painted this!!", but it's also a result of the times I think, of having gone through the pandemic together.
Although I understand the legal hijinks it could bring, it would've been nice if some comments on the posts were kept. At the beginning we're told some of this posts were conversations with someone in the comments, or continuations of answers she gave to some previous post. And then we just don't get to see that, not one comment, and I think the traces of other posts being a follow-up of some comments were scraped in the edits. If this were blog entries I'd understand, but they were originally social media posts!!! Where's the social??
And the end felt weird. It just stopped.The author gave so many good political opinions/monologues on the rest of the book, that it's just stupid to not explain why you stopped writing in february 2022. Was it because you got bored of facebook? Because you think covid ended there? Because no one was interacting with your posts anymore? It would've been the sensible thing to do to explain why it ended where it did.
I honestly don't know how to rate this, so 3/5 it is. On the one hand, I'm nosy and lonely as hell because the isolation never really ended for me after the pandemic, so reading a day to day recount from some random person's life was something I liked, to an extent. But if I thought about it too much, it ended up spiraling towards "why the fuck am I reading this? why do I care?".
And on the other hand, this book is a piece of history. 50 years from now it'll be a very interesting read. But I lived through the pandemic, am still caught in the aftermath, and none of this is news to me. She seemed to be allowed to go to more places than I was, and she spent the whole thing with someone she loves and is only mildly annoyed at sometimes, which is something I didn't get to do, so sometimes it was like I felt that my experience was more of a history document than this book. Which is really shitty to think, because I don't mean to sound like those "my three year old could've painted this!!", but it's also a result of the times I think, of having gone through the pandemic together.
Although I understand the legal hijinks it could bring, it would've been nice if some comments on the posts were kept. At the beginning we're told some of this posts were conversations with someone in the comments, or continuations of answers she gave to some previous post. And then we just don't get to see that, not one comment, and I think the traces of other posts being a follow-up of some comments were scraped in the edits. If this were blog entries I'd understand, but they were originally social media posts!!! Where's the social??
And the end felt weird. It just stopped.The author gave so many good political opinions/monologues on the rest of the book, that it's just stupid to not explain why you stopped writing in february 2022. Was it because you got bored of facebook? Because you think covid ended there? Because no one was interacting with your posts anymore? It would've been the sensible thing to do to explain why it ended where it did.
A book that does exactly what it says on the tin. It is made up of posts on FB made during the pandemic by Rebecca Rosenblum from her home in Toronto.
At first I thought oh I'm going to get bored but in fact it was very interesting, not only to read how somebody else got through the whole experience but also how Canada dealt with the lockdowns and vaccinations.
I have to confess that I know nothing about Canadian life and after a couple of aborted attempts I totally gave up with the acronyms and just read the entries.
As you'd expect there are some worrying parts, some downright weird and quite a lot if chuckles along the way. The funniest bits are definitely the interactions between Rebecca and her husband Mark. She says in the acknowledgements that he's not always that funny but I'm not sure I believe that. You can tell a couple who bounce off each other in a jokey way. Its always a treat.
So thanks to Netgalley for the ARC and to Rebecca for writing what is essentially a pandemic diary. It made me wish I'd documented more of my experiences because we forget so quickly. All in all an interesting read that you can dip in and out of or read in great lumps as I did. I'm really interested in reading her fiction now too.
At first I thought oh I'm going to get bored but in fact it was very interesting, not only to read how somebody else got through the whole experience but also how Canada dealt with the lockdowns and vaccinations.
I have to confess that I know nothing about Canadian life and after a couple of aborted attempts I totally gave up with the acronyms and just read the entries.
As you'd expect there are some worrying parts, some downright weird and quite a lot if chuckles along the way. The funniest bits are definitely the interactions between Rebecca and her husband Mark. She says in the acknowledgements that he's not always that funny but I'm not sure I believe that. You can tell a couple who bounce off each other in a jokey way. Its always a treat.
So thanks to Netgalley for the ARC and to Rebecca for writing what is essentially a pandemic diary. It made me wish I'd documented more of my experiences because we forget so quickly. All in all an interesting read that you can dip in and out of or read in great lumps as I did. I'm really interested in reading her fiction now too.
I didn't enjoy this. I am 13% of the way in but just can't find myself caring about Rebecca's Facebook posts. Maybe in a couple years it would be interesting, but it truly feels like the definition of privilege in the pandemic. While she acknowledges her privilege, that doesn't mean it isn't still frustrating to read.
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
How does a crowded, high-density urban area work when the world suddenly needs to be spaced six feet apart? What does community look like when everything it was based on is changed? And how can an extrovert fulfill their needs in the middle of all of this? These Days Are Numbered, a collection of journal-esque Facebook statuses, chart Rebecca Rosenblum's personal struggles with these questions, in the middle of the global pandemic.
Although I tend to stay far away from pandemic content (Help, with Jodie Comer? - I absolutely could not do it), there was something about the blurb of this book that grabbed me. It pretty much does what it says on the tin, being an account of Rosenblum's life during the major years of the pandemic.
It was, by turns, reflective, angry, hopeful, sad, and deeply funny: I adored the snippets of conversation between Rosenblum and her husband! Both because they were very funny, and also because I think we all had those truly bizarre interactions during the lockdowns, that only really come from living in close proximity for too long. That was really the beauty of the book, that even if the day-to-day experiences were different (I wasn't working during the bulk of the 2020 lockdowns, I was living in the suburbs of an English city) it still felt fundamentally relatable. It was reassuring, to know that someone on the other side of the world was having experiences that had some essential similarity to mine, when even the other side of the city was unreachable at that time.
I do think there is room for critique. Whilst I felt that Rosenblum was generally good at reflecting on her privilege during a time that drew such chasms, it still means that this book won't be representative for everyone. Even past the differences of class, race, and dis/ability - that all likely impacted each individual experience of the pandemic - she wasn't a front-line worker, she had her family relatively nearby, she was living with a loved one. As well, there were parts - mostly in relation to race - that felt a bit weird when considered as public Facebook posts, as opposed to a private diary. More generally, the pacing felt a little off - despite being made up of a collection of short snippets, it took me a long time to read, and it felt that the pandemic was nearing a plateau somewhat before the book itself.
What does community look like, when everything it was previously based on has to change? I think maybe it looks a bit like this.
Although I tend to stay far away from pandemic content (Help, with Jodie Comer? - I absolutely could not do it), there was something about the blurb of this book that grabbed me. It pretty much does what it says on the tin, being an account of Rosenblum's life during the major years of the pandemic.
It was, by turns, reflective, angry, hopeful, sad, and deeply funny: I adored the snippets of conversation between Rosenblum and her husband! Both because they were very funny, and also because I think we all had those truly bizarre interactions during the lockdowns, that only really come from living in close proximity for too long. That was really the beauty of the book, that even if the day-to-day experiences were different (I wasn't working during the bulk of the 2020 lockdowns, I was living in the suburbs of an English city) it still felt fundamentally relatable. It was reassuring, to know that someone on the other side of the world was having experiences that had some essential similarity to mine, when even the other side of the city was unreachable at that time.
I do think there is room for critique. Whilst I felt that Rosenblum was generally good at reflecting on her privilege during a time that drew such chasms, it still means that this book won't be representative for everyone. Even past the differences of class, race, and dis/ability - that all likely impacted each individual experience of the pandemic - she wasn't a front-line worker, she had her family relatively nearby, she was living with a loved one. As well, there were parts - mostly in relation to race - that felt a bit weird when considered as public Facebook posts, as opposed to a private diary. More generally, the pacing felt a little off - despite being made up of a collection of short snippets, it took me a long time to read, and it felt that the pandemic was nearing a plateau somewhat before the book itself.
What does community look like, when everything it was previously based on has to change? I think maybe it looks a bit like this.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Pandemic/Epidemic
Minor: Ableism, Racism, Grief
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Content Warnings
Graphic: Grief, Pandemic/Epidemic
funny
reflective
slow-paced
A real honest look at how the pandemic impacted one extrovert, who found it hard to navigate the world in a pandemic. But don’t be fooled - this book is hilarious and has such an authentic voice!