A review by eliya
Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

adventurous challenging dark informative reflective sad slow-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Plot
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

3.0

Struggling with where to put this rating ~ 2.75 - 3.5?? 

This book was rreeeally tedious and boring for the first 70% with some really beautiful lines and perspectives on grief peppered in that i am glad i read this book for. 

Too many chunks of just regurgitating facts about the ocean with not enough reason for the facts, just that they were fun 

Miri DOES say that it IS hard to make a person see how much you love someone, especially hard to make them love that person themself. I really wanted to be invested, and I shed a few tears, but I was taken out by the mundanity of it all. Too much detail placed on the wrong things. I don’t need to know exactly what was playing on the neighbor’s TV, what I really want to know is what the sound sounded like! I loved and appreciated the physical horror, but all around the horror elements just were mid and not enough. 

Was really hopeful for this book, really beautiful idea, really beautiful phrases and thoughts, but it just misses the mark.


favorite quotes from the book - 

“grief is selfish: we cry for ourselves without the person we have lost far more than we cry for the person” (p. 107)

“when I went to visit her, I found it increasingly difficult, not to imagine the two of us breaking down and turning to dust” (p. 117) 

“ the gentle grasp and then drop of a hug that I’d initiated” (p. 118) 

“I wore it as a badge of honor, nonetheless, picking up abandoned glasses with a sigh and fairing them to the dishwasher. I don’t really think it’s that hard, I used to say a lot, and she would apologize and fill the chip and sink with soap, and and really, now I think about it, what an absolute waste of life.” (p. 126)

“I’ve been thinking about you, a bit. I bite the tips of my fingers and I think about you.” (p. 176)

“… version of her I imagined before I met her, the gentle pressure when I pushed my lips in the cup of my own hand and pretended a kiss…” (p. 185)



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