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theskyboi's review
challenging
dark
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.0
Honestly, I had expected so much from this book. A man is battling with the devil, and he wonders whether he should be hospitalized for a psychotic episode. On the surface, the story seemed to be delivering a powerful, meaningful message, but I cannot help but wonder if I was the ideal audience member for this spectacle.
What I will commend the author for is the quality of the short stories interspersed within the novel; these are not at all directly related to the story, but they were so much richer and more well developed than any of the scenes starring the protagonist, Jacob. It seemed that there were too many storylines competing for my attention in order for me to truly enjoy this work.
Another portion of this book that did seem redeemable to me were the tales of Jacob's childhood, where he was raised by the women of the brothel that his mother worked at. Sad and tortured though it was, this story carried with it hope for a better future and the candid vulnerability of life seen through a child's innocence. Were the novel entirely based upon this, I feel it would have faired better.
Adding to the mix of fictional stories penned by Jacob, his life's retrospective, and his conversations with the devil are the memories of his lost family. First, he details how he lost connection with his mother, and later as an adult, he grapples with the devastating loss of his partner and his closest friends during the AIDS crisis. As powerful as this message should have been, it suffered the same fate as other portions of this busy book.
Least effective of all were the tales of Jacob's masochistic sexual exploits, which bordered on abuse, and the inclusion of various whimsical and somewhat queer interpretations of Christian saints for the devil to volley back and forth with as he determined what to do with Jacob's soul. I feel that these two gruesome and boring segments, respectively, were the final nail in the coffin, killing any chance of artistic impact.
To someone else, this novel might have served as some abstract experimentation of the written word, but to me, it was an unfinished draft that left me questioning whether the author had too many simultaneous ambitions for his own good. While I still had a good time with some of the aforementioned sections, I still wish I had not been dealt a string of unfinished books that were poorly stitched together.
What I will commend the author for is the quality of the short stories interspersed within the novel; these are not at all directly related to the story, but they were so much richer and more well developed than any of the scenes starring the protagonist, Jacob. It seemed that there were too many storylines competing for my attention in order for me to truly enjoy this work.
Another portion of this book that did seem redeemable to me were the tales of Jacob's childhood, where he was raised by the women of the brothel that his mother worked at. Sad and tortured though it was, this story carried with it hope for a better future and the candid vulnerability of life seen through a child's innocence. Were the novel entirely based upon this, I feel it would have faired better.
Adding to the mix of fictional stories penned by Jacob, his life's retrospective, and his conversations with the devil are the memories of his lost family. First, he details how he lost connection with his mother, and later as an adult, he grapples with the devastating loss of his partner and his closest friends during the AIDS crisis. As powerful as this message should have been, it suffered the same fate as other portions of this busy book.
Least effective of all were the tales of Jacob's masochistic sexual exploits, which bordered on abuse, and the inclusion of various whimsical and somewhat queer interpretations of Christian saints for the devil to volley back and forth with as he determined what to do with Jacob's soul. I feel that these two gruesome and boring segments, respectively, were the final nail in the coffin, killing any chance of artistic impact.
To someone else, this novel might have served as some abstract experimentation of the written word, but to me, it was an unfinished draft that left me questioning whether the author had too many simultaneous ambitions for his own good. While I still had a good time with some of the aforementioned sections, I still wish I had not been dealt a string of unfinished books that were poorly stitched together.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child abuse, Death, Sexual violence, War, Sexual assault, Sexual content, Violence, Confinement, Suicidal thoughts, Alcohol, Chronic illness, Cursing, Drug use, Emotional abuse, Islamophobia, Medical content, Medical trauma, Physical abuse, Rape, Religious bigotry, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , Slavery, and Xenophobia
criticalgayze's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Since renewing and upping my reading practice in 2017 post-college, one of the greatest boons to my reading life (and to my media diet more broadly) has been my increasing diet of Queer art. This has been especially true since beginning my Queer-focused reading year at the top of 2022.
This has never been more true than here. Reading Alameddine combines the playful prose and formatting of Emezi and James with the literary references and commentary on American homosexuality of Chee. But the most present work that The Angel of History is in conversation with is Kushner's similarly titled Angels in America, in the way it takes on the impact of the AIDS crisis while adding in the religious fantasticality.
You know you're in for a literary treat from the jump here with the way Alameddine weaves this breathless sentences filled with seamless and boundless artistic references that are the hallmark of our most brilliant Queer storytellers. (I mean just check out some of the gems I picked out below.)
I also love what Alameddine is doing with form here. The novel is told in four distinct chapter styles, including interviews Satan is conducting with ousted Catholic saints and short stories written by the main character. (There is one such story near the end that is absolutely jarring and would make an amazing piece in any collection.) The interweaving of commentary and meta-commentary and fantasy and historical fiction ... man, this was just something else.
I did start to lag in the back half, but I don't know if this was the fault of a loss of storytelling magic as the book progresses or my own exhausted mental health. I will be revisiting this at the end of the year.
Quotes:
All in black, of course, Death shifted in his chair to a more comfortable position. He had an unmistakable whiff of history about him, and of formaldehyde. (p. 2)
I did not wish to explain once again that the Middle East was not one big country, that Saint Catherine of Alexandria was only a metaphorical mother, I told the receptionist of course everything was in the Sinai, we were all there, the Middle East was one big jumble of odiferous trash. (p. 11)
Think about that, an early immigrant, I learned to travel light, always just a carry-on, never check my luggage. (p. 17)
You never emigrated, Doc, you were born and raised in this town, but I tell you, when you leave, a section of your hearth withers on its vine, you start over again, over and over, you mispronounce you name once and once again, Ya'qub becomes Jacob and then, heaven forbid, Jake, you get on with your life, but each time you bid farewell to a place, voracious flesh-eating fish swim up from your depths, vultures circle your skies, and your city's dead quiver with fury in their graves and bang on their coffins, but then your homeland feels too paltry, a canoe tied to a branch by your mother's hair. (p. 17)
I have to tell you that was a horrid come-hither line, just horrid, but it worked, and now Joan Didion has written memoirs for Oprah. It didn't bother me, I mean, we're all getting old and sentimental, nostalgia overwhelms our defenses, floats over our moats and scales our walls. She's not the writer she was when younger but few are. Don't allow your prose to reach forty should be the motto of every writer, commit Mishima. (p. 29)
"A poet is tormented by the horrors of this world, as well as its beauty, but he can be refreshed, reborn even; he can take to the sky once more. Think phoenix, not Icarus." (p. 193)
It gets better, Doc, fucking gets better, no one dared suggest that maybe the family and the school should change, or heaven forbid, that it was the all-Americans who should be modifying their beings, no, the homo should grin and bear it dumbly, punch me harder now because when I grow up, I'll be working for Google. (p. 198)
This has never been more true than here. Reading Alameddine combines the playful prose and formatting of Emezi and James with the literary references and commentary on American homosexuality of Chee. But the most present work that The Angel of History is in conversation with is Kushner's similarly titled Angels in America, in the way it takes on the impact of the AIDS crisis while adding in the religious fantasticality.
You know you're in for a literary treat from the jump here with the way Alameddine weaves this breathless sentences filled with seamless and boundless artistic references that are the hallmark of our most brilliant Queer storytellers. (I mean just check out some of the gems I picked out below.)
I also love what Alameddine is doing with form here. The novel is told in four distinct chapter styles, including interviews Satan is conducting with ousted Catholic saints and short stories written by the main character. (There is one such story near the end that is absolutely jarring and would make an amazing piece in any collection.) The interweaving of commentary and meta-commentary and fantasy and historical fiction ... man, this was just something else.
I did start to lag in the back half, but I don't know if this was the fault of a loss of storytelling magic as the book progresses or my own exhausted mental health. I will be revisiting this at the end of the year.
Quotes:
All in black, of course, Death shifted in his chair to a more comfortable position. He had an unmistakable whiff of history about him, and of formaldehyde. (p. 2)
I did not wish to explain once again that the Middle East was not one big country, that Saint Catherine of Alexandria was only a metaphorical mother, I told the receptionist of course everything was in the Sinai, we were all there, the Middle East was one big jumble of odiferous trash. (p. 11)
Think about that, an early immigrant, I learned to travel light, always just a carry-on, never check my luggage. (p. 17)
You never emigrated, Doc, you were born and raised in this town, but I tell you, when you leave, a section of your hearth withers on its vine, you start over again, over and over, you mispronounce you name once and once again, Ya'qub becomes Jacob and then, heaven forbid, Jake, you get on with your life, but each time you bid farewell to a place, voracious flesh-eating fish swim up from your depths, vultures circle your skies, and your city's dead quiver with fury in their graves and bang on their coffins, but then your homeland feels too paltry, a canoe tied to a branch by your mother's hair. (p. 17)
I have to tell you that was a horrid come-hither line, just horrid, but it worked, and now Joan Didion has written memoirs for Oprah. It didn't bother me, I mean, we're all getting old and sentimental, nostalgia overwhelms our defenses, floats over our moats and scales our walls. She's not the writer she was when younger but few are. Don't allow your prose to reach forty should be the motto of every writer, commit Mishima. (p. 29)
"A poet is tormented by the horrors of this world, as well as its beauty, but he can be refreshed, reborn even; he can take to the sky once more. Think phoenix, not Icarus." (p. 193)
It gets better, Doc, fucking gets better, no one dared suggest that maybe the family and the school should change, or heaven forbid, that it was the all-Americans who should be modifying their beings, no, the homo should grin and bear it dumbly, punch me harder now because when I grow up, I'll be working for Google. (p. 198)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Medical trauma, Medical content, Cursing, Mental illness, Islamophobia, Xenophobia, War, Homophobia, Violence, Sexual content, Racism, Racial slurs, Terminal illness, Death, and Toxic relationship
Moderate: Bullying
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