Scan barcode
A review by jess_esa
Private Rites by Julia Armfield
4.0
Lesbian climate fiction inspired by King Lear was always going to be an easy sell for me.
The fact that it's Julia Armfield meant there were no lengths I wouldn't go to get an arc for this book. I loved Salt Slow and obsessively recommended Our Wives Under the Sea to anyone I met for the first six months after reading it; it's imprinted on my soul.
So, it's safe to say I'm the target audience. That aside, I actually do have mixed feelings about this book.
The world-building is where it really shines; it's masterful. It's creepy, haunting, and very dystopian depictions of our lives once the sea levels rise are so real I imagined looking out the window to find us there already. The chapters from the city's perspective were some of my favourite. When inevitably, there's a post-COVID fiction module on an MA syllabus somewhere, this will undoubtedly be on it. Our protagonists' lives, which carry on as normal in this very unsettling, unfair, and dangerous world, will be immediately familiar to every reader. Julia has a real intimacy when she writes about water; her love and fear for it always comes through in surprising ways, and it's what I love about her writing. This book sinks into your bones like a wet day.
Most of Private Rites follows the three sisters, Irene, Iris, and their younger half-sister Agnes, with whom they have a very difficult relationship. Agnes takes risks to feel something, struggles with intimacy, and is by far the most interesting of the three sisters. There are three scenes emblazoned on my brain from this book, and they all involve Agnes. This is to the detriment of Irene and Iris (our Goneril and Regan for those who love Lear), who just aren't as compelling as individual characters, and more serve to show the lasting impact of their overbearing father after his death.
The novel takes a very sharp narrative turn towards the end. It's heavily signposted throughout, so you know something weird is coming. Nonetheless, it does feel jarring, like another story that's been tacked on suddenly. This disjointed feeling is ever-present and makes this book a little difficult to settle into throughout.
The fact that it's Julia Armfield meant there were no lengths I wouldn't go to get an arc for this book. I loved Salt Slow and obsessively recommended Our Wives Under the Sea to anyone I met for the first six months after reading it; it's imprinted on my soul.
So, it's safe to say I'm the target audience. That aside, I actually do have mixed feelings about this book.
The world-building is where it really shines; it's masterful. It's creepy, haunting, and very dystopian depictions of our lives once the sea levels rise are so real I imagined looking out the window to find us there already. The chapters from the city's perspective were some of my favourite. When inevitably, there's a post-COVID fiction module on an MA syllabus somewhere, this will undoubtedly be on it. Our protagonists' lives, which carry on as normal in this very unsettling, unfair, and dangerous world, will be immediately familiar to every reader. Julia has a real intimacy when she writes about water; her love and fear for it always comes through in surprising ways, and it's what I love about her writing. This book sinks into your bones like a wet day.
Most of Private Rites follows the three sisters, Irene, Iris, and their younger half-sister Agnes, with whom they have a very difficult relationship. Agnes takes risks to feel something, struggles with intimacy, and is by far the most interesting of the three sisters. There are three scenes emblazoned on my brain from this book, and they all involve Agnes. This is to the detriment of Irene and Iris (our Goneril and Regan for those who love Lear), who just aren't as compelling as individual characters, and more serve to show the lasting impact of their overbearing father after his death.
The novel takes a very sharp narrative turn towards the end. It's heavily signposted throughout, so you know something weird is coming. Nonetheless, it does feel jarring, like another story that's been tacked on suddenly. This disjointed feeling is ever-present and makes this book a little difficult to settle into throughout.