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A review by lolocole
American Mermaid: A Novel by Julia Langbein
challenging
dark
funny
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.75
This book was so strange. I do honestly think "sublime" is an appropriate word to apply here. I'm certain that I didn't grasp all that there was tucked and folded and layered into this book. There were so many myriad conversations going on: about asexuality, Hollywood, capitalism, climate change, feminism, greed, adaptation, motherhood, sisterhood, performance, etc., etc.. The nested nature of the plot- switching back and forth between Penelope's experience in LA and Sylvia in Penelope's book- opened up so much room for critical analysis that it seemed almost impossible to start.
The end, especially, felt like being caught in a riptide yourself. Everything was building steadily, just this side of slowly, and then there was no solid ground amidst the chaos of fragmented confusion. All this to say, the book posed more questions than it answered. It was more of a thought exercise than a school of thought.
Quotes:
"One of Sylvia's great powers, which she knows only as a weakness, is her immunity to sexual desire. When alcohol had shut my functions down to a few blinking lights in my animal brain, I must have leaped to protect her from the humiliations of desire" (62).
"This is one of the dangers of [teenagers'] ineluctable depth: they live the poetry, the true value of the way words resonate and not their dictionary meanings or conventional uses" (74).
"But always when she turned inward to run her fingers over the mystery script of her biology and what it might spell for a chance at happiness, the same question arose, terrifying and unanswerable: Am I immune to love?" (139).
"They both paused, weighing wordlessly whether they were, in fact, like a childless craftsman and a remarkably self-conscious doll" (173).
"Now she and Masahiro had been unlocked from this system of patriarchy and patronage, so who were they? The best answer she could give was two ghosts trying to figure out if they could engineer a haunting" (176).
"The question of my reality, while very interesting to me, seems lamely, damply philosophical in this dazzling home, with sunspots dancing on the wood floors, filtered through the lemon trees outside the open windows" (198).
"This single girl wears a sweater because part of her is cold; the others wear their sweaters because part of them is empty" (200).
"The wave of anger would surge and then fall in the pit of her stomach with a nauseating crash, and like a seasick passenger of her own body she would have to grip a countertop or a bannister" (206).
"As realities of time and place became unthinkable, Masahiro's story unfolded like a Twilight of the Gods- it was hard to believe that what he described was historical and not cosmic" (229).
This book reminded me of Migrations and The Siren Queen.
The end, especially, felt like being caught in a riptide yourself. Everything was building steadily, just this side of slowly, and then there was no solid ground amidst the chaos of fragmented confusion. All this to say, the book posed more questions than it answered. It was more of a thought exercise than a school of thought.
Quotes:
"One of Sylvia's great powers, which she knows only as a weakness, is her immunity to sexual desire. When alcohol had shut my functions down to a few blinking lights in my animal brain, I must have leaped to protect her from the humiliations of desire" (62).
"This is one of the dangers of [teenagers'] ineluctable depth: they live the poetry, the true value of the way words resonate and not their dictionary meanings or conventional uses" (74).
"But always when she turned inward to run her fingers over the mystery script of her biology and what it might spell for a chance at happiness, the same question arose, terrifying and unanswerable: Am I immune to love?" (139).
"They both paused, weighing wordlessly whether they were, in fact, like a childless craftsman and a remarkably self-conscious doll" (173).
"Now she and Masahiro had been unlocked from this system of patriarchy and patronage, so who were they? The best answer she could give was two ghosts trying to figure out if they could engineer a haunting" (176).
"The question of my reality, while very interesting to me, seems lamely, damply philosophical in this dazzling home, with sunspots dancing on the wood floors, filtered through the lemon trees outside the open windows" (198).
"This single girl wears a sweater because part of her is cold; the others wear their sweaters because part of them is empty" (200).
"The wave of anger would surge and then fall in the pit of her stomach with a nauseating crash, and like a seasick passenger of her own body she would have to grip a countertop or a bannister" (206).
"As realities of time and place became unthinkable, Masahiro's story unfolded like a Twilight of the Gods- it was hard to believe that what he described was historical and not cosmic" (229).
This book reminded me of Migrations and The Siren Queen.