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A review by bluemomo
On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong
5.0
On Earth We Are Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong
A recollection of emotion by Blue
I had so many thoughts about this novel when i finished to read it, but now they all seem meaningless.
Life should not be so poetic. Death, love, pain, anger, friendship, all part of one's life, all disgraceful.
Ocean Vuong wrote a novel, but delivered a poem, long 250 pages, long like the essence of life itself.
I had to pause frequently during the reading, phrases, words, letters so heavy i had to search outside, i had to ask strangers how to continue to read something that was slowly breaking me.
I never witnessed war, i never witnessed abuse from my own family, but i was once, also, someone who had so many words inside, but not the language to express myself, so i often stayed quiet.
And so now I'm using the same language of the author to write about a novel that even if so full of death and hate, still give the reader the stubborness of life and love. The purpose of life itself, we don't know what we have to do, but like the monarch butterfly we need to go forward, to find a new place, our place.
I'm thorn, because i loved the novel, but i don't know if i have the courage to reread it again, maybe it's too soon.
If you ever stumble upon a book shop and your eyes drop on this title, do yourself a favor, buy it and be enchanted by its tenderness and its ferocity, Its being human and inhuman at the same time.
A recollection of emotion by Blue
I had so many thoughts about this novel when i finished to read it, but now they all seem meaningless.
Life should not be so poetic. Death, love, pain, anger, friendship, all part of one's life, all disgraceful.
Ocean Vuong wrote a novel, but delivered a poem, long 250 pages, long like the essence of life itself.
I had to pause frequently during the reading, phrases, words, letters so heavy i had to search outside, i had to ask strangers how to continue to read something that was slowly breaking me.
I never witnessed war, i never witnessed abuse from my own family, but i was once, also, someone who had so many words inside, but not the language to express myself, so i often stayed quiet.
And so now I'm using the same language of the author to write about a novel that even if so full of death and hate, still give the reader the stubborness of life and love. The purpose of life itself, we don't know what we have to do, but like the monarch butterfly we need to go forward, to find a new place, our place.
I'm thorn, because i loved the novel, but i don't know if i have the courage to reread it again, maybe it's too soon.
If you ever stumble upon a book shop and your eyes drop on this title, do yourself a favor, buy it and be enchanted by its tenderness and its ferocity, Its being human and inhuman at the same time.