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A review by bjr2022
Fishbowl by Bradley Somer
5.0
{8/14/18 Reposting because this is such spectacular writing, and I have many more GR friends now than when I first read this delightful novel.}
Fishbowl is the magnificent tale of a fish's fall from a top-floor balcony and of all the apartment building's inhabitants' up-and-down-the-stairs travails. "Delicious" is the first word that comes to mind to describe Bradley Somer's exquisite prose. He expands moments, detailing fleeting actions or sensations. Here's a taste:
And
And
All these examples probably take the time of a thought, but the writing is so luscious and juicy and sometimes even crunchy and crispy that you want to read slowly. Hard, since the story is equally tasty and you want to know what happens next. This is a gentle, compassionate, exquisitely written look at life from a falling fish's eye view. I loved it!
I had an interesting personal experience reading: Time in this story is altered in many ways—perception is slowed down, while events concurrently unfold in and out of real time. The quantum mechanics notion that time simply doesn't exist as we experience it is played with and discussed. While reading Fishbowl my private sense of time was altered. Slowed perceptions plus events in real time became my "real" time, to such an extent that when I put the book down, I felt as if all my actions, thoughts, and reactions were like slogging through molasses. Imagine being away from gravity and then returning to it. I'd be curious to hear if other readers had this experience.
Thanks to Netgalley for an ARC of this book.
Fishbowl is the magnificent tale of a fish's fall from a top-floor balcony and of all the apartment building's inhabitants' up-and-down-the-stairs travails. "Delicious" is the first word that comes to mind to describe Bradley Somer's exquisite prose. He expands moments, detailing fleeting actions or sensations. Here's a taste:
Garth draws a deep breath to steady his heart and gives the package a squeeze, pinching it between the crook of his arm and his torso. It gives a reassuring crackle in return. He takes it in both hands and gives it another squeeze. The softness compresses to a point, and then he can feel something solid and hard in the middle. He repeats the motion and decides he has to run up the remaining flights. He needs to move through this horrible space as quickly as he can. He needs to get to his apartment and recapture the full excitement he had felt before the stairwell sucked it out of him.
And
That’s where she met Matt, her first crush. Matt lifted weights every day and was on the high school football team. Matt worked the same shifts that she did. He looked so good in his work uniform. The company logo bent so slightly around the curve of his sculpted pectoral muscle. An embroidered little man in a waiter’s uniform dashed away from Matt’s armpit and toward the cleft in his chest, carrying a burger the size of his head on a platter. Three embroidered steam lines on the logo implied the food was fresh and piping hot.
And
Ian [the titular fish] is torn from the scene when, as he falls past the eighteenth floor, he discovers the final betrayal of his body. His instinct for freedom has led to several such revelations so far. Even in the short second of his flight, the experience has been more edifying than the months he spent in his bowl. He not only has found that he can’t breathe in this atmosphere but also that eyelids are handy devices and evolution has left him ill prepared for flight. Now he learns that the aerodynamic nature of his body, which allows him to slice through water so effortlessly, with the right amount of wind shear transforms him into a streamlined, nose-down golden rocket. It pushes his tail to the sky and forces his head ground-ward. The turbulence compels his body to wiggle in a fashion not dissimilar to swimming in a strong current. No longer does he tumble. His descent becomes much more sinister and direct through the shrieking air.
All these examples probably take the time of a thought, but the writing is so luscious and juicy and sometimes even crunchy and crispy that you want to read slowly. Hard, since the story is equally tasty and you want to know what happens next. This is a gentle, compassionate, exquisitely written look at life from a falling fish's eye view. I loved it!
I had an interesting personal experience reading: Time in this story is altered in many ways—perception is slowed down, while events concurrently unfold in and out of real time. The quantum mechanics notion that time simply doesn't exist as we experience it is played with and discussed. While reading Fishbowl my private sense of time was altered. Slowed perceptions plus events in real time became my "real" time, to such an extent that when I put the book down, I felt as if all my actions, thoughts, and reactions were like slogging through molasses. Imagine being away from gravity and then returning to it. I'd be curious to hear if other readers had this experience.
Thanks to Netgalley for an ARC of this book.