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dejnozkova's reviews
134 reviews
Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir
adventurous
emotional
funny
inspiring
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.25
This book was so surprisingly wholesome I was tearing up at the end. I love Andy Weir’s quirky but intelligent narrative voice coming out of the brain of sarcastic astronaut Ryland Grace. Weir makes EXCELLENT use of flashbacks/memory recall, using this device in a way that actually serves the plot in an unpredictable way, not only to add flavor to the delivery of this story but also in a way that allows Grace’s character to blossom in the last third of the book. Weir gives you just enough to provide context at just the right time, but not too much to where you’re still guessing, which I think really helps along a book that isn’t actually “action-packed” most of the time. This book offers a lot of fun in terms of science too. He details this journey with realistic scenarios and offers the science and math to back it in an easily digestible way.
**SPOILERS BELOW**
Although this is where the first of my critiques enters. While Weir spent much time and effort on the STEM side, I feel like he kinda fell short on the xenoanthropology side. I’m not wholly convinced that it would be likely that alien life would have the same sense of humor or empathetic understanding as Ryland Grace, seeing as how even here on Earth there is a WILDLY diverse cultural and social landscape that makes these features difficult to bridge even among the same species. I thought it was a bit too convenient that Rocky was able to anticipate and also feel human thought and emotion after meeting one of us for the first time as well as Grace and Rocky almost immediately being able to communicate. For the sake of the story I accepted Rocky and I was actually in LOVE with him, I found him adorable and charming. But I don’t think he was fleshed out with the same professional thought as other aspects of the book (I enjoyed the speculation about alien physiology but was disappointed in terms of alien culture and customs).
My other criticism would be the flat, stereotypical portrayals of the peripheral human characters. Russians drink vodka, the Chinese are serious, the French are pompous, etc —not very imaginative in this area. I did enjoy Strat’s dry humor though. The only character in this book that had real depth was Grace but all other characters (including Rocky) seem 2-dimensional.
The thing is, the humorous narration, the style, the wholesome approach to alien life, the detail-oriented explanations, and the imagination surrounding plausible alien encounters all made this book incredibly enjoyable despite its flaws so I have to give it 4 stars anyway. The ending was beautiful and hopeful and full of love, Grace had a lovely arc, and it’s a relief to have a sci-fi that isn’t all doom and gloom. Despite its imperfections this was overall a fantastic book. I just really enjoyed it. I found it was an entertaining and inspirational piece of storytelling.
**SPOILERS BELOW**
Although this is where the first of my critiques enters. While Weir spent much time and effort on the STEM side, I feel like he kinda fell short on the xenoanthropology side. I’m not wholly convinced that it would be likely that alien life would have the same sense of humor or empathetic understanding as Ryland Grace, seeing as how even here on Earth there is a WILDLY diverse cultural and social landscape that makes these features difficult to bridge even among the same species. I thought it was a bit too convenient that Rocky was able to anticipate and also feel human thought and emotion after meeting one of us for the first time as well as Grace and Rocky almost immediately being able to communicate. For the sake of the story I accepted Rocky and I was actually in LOVE with him, I found him adorable and charming. But I don’t think he was fleshed out with the same professional thought as other aspects of the book (I enjoyed the speculation about alien physiology but was disappointed in terms of alien culture and customs).
My other criticism would be the flat, stereotypical portrayals of the peripheral human characters. Russians drink vodka, the Chinese are serious, the French are pompous, etc —not very imaginative in this area. I did enjoy Strat’s dry humor though. The only character in this book that had real depth was Grace but all other characters (including Rocky) seem 2-dimensional.
The thing is, the humorous narration, the style, the wholesome approach to alien life, the detail-oriented explanations, and the imagination surrounding plausible alien encounters all made this book incredibly enjoyable despite its flaws so I have to give it 4 stars anyway. The ending was beautiful and hopeful and full of love, Grace had a lovely arc, and it’s a relief to have a sci-fi that isn’t all doom and gloom. Despite its imperfections this was overall a fantastic book. I just really enjoyed it. I found it was an entertaining and inspirational piece of storytelling.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
adventurous
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
“The Ocean at the End of the Lane” is the most emotional book I’ve read this year and one of my all-time favorites now. As magical and dark as “Coraline”, but with 10x the heart, the book might serve as a reflection on the darkest period of your life and reminds you how you made it through. I wouldn’t say this book has to specifically be about childhood, although that seems to be the central struggle for the protagonist. But I believe the issue of fear, loneliness, mistrust, and haunting remembrance is something anyone can relate to at any age, and so I found that the book resonated deeply enough with me that I ended up crying over my own memories from my adulthood.
I love Gaiman’s easily-digestible prose that somehow manages to manifest grand imagery, playing with shadows, the ocean, the moon, magic, fairy circles, felines, and rain. Mystical motifs glittering against the gloom and eeriness, creating a silvery contrast to the darkness. Which I think beautifully encompasses the overall tone of the book as it explores the pains that plague every person at least once in their lives, and wrapping it up in soft, shimmering tenderness.
Which brings me to the heart of why I am so in love with this book. This is a book about suffering and healing, fear and trust, anxiety and acceptance, pain and forgiveness. It’s the story of a lonely and anxious little boy who finds a friend in a magical girl who helps him to face the darkness of the world, and the darkness in himself. Together they combat monsters from another realm, and in doing so he learns that centering his pain can have even more painful ramifications. But he also learns to place his trust in others, and eventually learns self-acceptance.
This book centers childhood, with a focus on the helplessness of a child against a world of danger and the unknown. And it addresses the anxieties that children often have about their own feelings and their lack of power, especially when they feel they have no one in their own home that they can trust. But personally, as someone who has suffered mental illness (and has also caused hurt to myself and others because of it) this book struck a major chord in a different way.
Our protagonist has to fight enemies no one in his family can see or begin to understand. He feels he can trust no one. He feels that he is a burden and that he causes suffering to others, and so desperate is he to fix it that he damages the one person that is LITERALLY holding his hand through his journey. He suffers terrible grief for this, for not only has he known suffering, but he has now caused it to someone else as a result of his inability to think straight. But pain is not the end. Without giving too much away, he does learn that he is loved and accepted and he has been all along. He learns that just because his world was shrouded by his own anxieties doesn’t mean that he has to live that way forever, and it certainly doesn’t mean he has to navigate those obstacles alone. He never had to in the first place, and he will never have to in the future.
One of the most beautiful ways I’ve ever seen therapy delivered. In the most bittersweet, melancholic, gloomy, soft, tender sort of way.
I cried. A lot. It was great. 🙂
I love Gaiman’s easily-digestible prose that somehow manages to manifest grand imagery, playing with shadows, the ocean, the moon, magic, fairy circles, felines, and rain. Mystical motifs glittering against the gloom and eeriness, creating a silvery contrast to the darkness. Which I think beautifully encompasses the overall tone of the book as it explores the pains that plague every person at least once in their lives, and wrapping it up in soft, shimmering tenderness.
Which brings me to the heart of why I am so in love with this book. This is a book about suffering and healing, fear and trust, anxiety and acceptance, pain and forgiveness. It’s the story of a lonely and anxious little boy who finds a friend in a magical girl who helps him to face the darkness of the world, and the darkness in himself. Together they combat monsters from another realm, and in doing so he learns that centering his pain can have even more painful ramifications. But he also learns to place his trust in others, and eventually learns self-acceptance.
This book centers childhood, with a focus on the helplessness of a child against a world of danger and the unknown. And it addresses the anxieties that children often have about their own feelings and their lack of power, especially when they feel they have no one in their own home that they can trust. But personally, as someone who has suffered mental illness (and has also caused hurt to myself and others because of it) this book struck a major chord in a different way.
Our protagonist has to fight enemies no one in his family can see or begin to understand. He feels he can trust no one. He feels that he is a burden and that he causes suffering to others, and so desperate is he to fix it that he damages the one person that is LITERALLY holding his hand through his journey. He suffers terrible grief for this, for not only has he known suffering, but he has now caused it to someone else as a result of his inability to think straight. But pain is not the end. Without giving too much away, he does learn that he is loved and accepted and he has been all along. He learns that just because his world was shrouded by his own anxieties doesn’t mean that he has to live that way forever, and it certainly doesn’t mean he has to navigate those obstacles alone. He never had to in the first place, and he will never have to in the future.
One of the most beautiful ways I’ve ever seen therapy delivered. In the most bittersweet, melancholic, gloomy, soft, tender sort of way.
I cried. A lot. It was great. 🙂
Combing the Snakes from His Hair by James Thomas Stevens
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
4.25
I wasn’t too sure about this collection when I started. The first part was dedicated to native plants. A few of the poems I liked but for the most part this section of the book didn’t stand out to me until I got to his poems about love, acceptance, and healing. His romantic poems drip with a wounded adoration and a gentleness that I deeply appreciate.
But I think that Stevens shines brightest with the last two parts of this collection. The poem “Notes on the Music I Never Heard” is a gorgeous composition comparing the musical traditions of his indigenous heritage and that of a lover of European ancestry. Within this poem Stevens weaves quotations from classical composers into his own prose, where many voices are joined in a symphony describing the joining of lovers and histories, and the pain and conflicting feelings that comes with such a union.
The last handful of poems is a celebration of native oral tradition, quoting from indigenous stories and playing off the Mohawk and Narragansett languages. “Three Translations from the Mohawk” is another piece inspired by music, this time rippling poetry out from drops of Mohawk songs. “Tokinish” tells the history of Roger Williams’ arrival in Rhode Island, quoting European writers and placing their writings against the Narragansett language. The poem discusses how language expresses differences in perception, and how language also defines who we are to others and to ourselves. It highlights how much has been lost due to a difference in language (land, trust, understanding, etc), and how loss in return leads to a loss of language and therefore a loss of history and culture.
My favorite thing about these few poems in the later half of the book was that they were more like collages. They joined traditions and arts from two very different worlds to speak to one single history and story. I love that in some places Stevens showcases similarities between indigenous American sentiments and European ones, and then also emphasizes the contrasts between the two in the same piece; we are joined in our humanity but separated by our cultures and experiences.
But I think that Stevens shines brightest with the last two parts of this collection. The poem “Notes on the Music I Never Heard” is a gorgeous composition comparing the musical traditions of his indigenous heritage and that of a lover of European ancestry. Within this poem Stevens weaves quotations from classical composers into his own prose, where many voices are joined in a symphony describing the joining of lovers and histories, and the pain and conflicting feelings that comes with such a union.
The last handful of poems is a celebration of native oral tradition, quoting from indigenous stories and playing off the Mohawk and Narragansett languages. “Three Translations from the Mohawk” is another piece inspired by music, this time rippling poetry out from drops of Mohawk songs. “Tokinish” tells the history of Roger Williams’ arrival in Rhode Island, quoting European writers and placing their writings against the Narragansett language. The poem discusses how language expresses differences in perception, and how language also defines who we are to others and to ourselves. It highlights how much has been lost due to a difference in language (land, trust, understanding, etc), and how loss in return leads to a loss of language and therefore a loss of history and culture.
My favorite thing about these few poems in the later half of the book was that they were more like collages. They joined traditions and arts from two very different worlds to speak to one single history and story. I love that in some places Stevens showcases similarities between indigenous American sentiments and European ones, and then also emphasizes the contrasts between the two in the same piece; we are joined in our humanity but separated by our cultures and experiences.
Open Veins of Latin America: Five Centuries of the Pillage of a Continent by Eduardo Galeano
challenging
dark
informative
tense
medium-paced
5.0
Took me a while to get through this one because it’s kinda dense if you don’t have a background in economics. HOWEVER, Galeano’s talent for journalistic writing does make it a bit easier for the average person to follow the complexities of Latin America’s economic history, so honestly anyone CAN grasp the material if they give themselves the time.
It’s easy for a lot of us to say “well the global south is fucked because of the west” and yes quite a bit of that is true. But this book tells you precisely how Latin America has become to be the way that it is, detailing not only the imperialist and colonialist history we might all be familiar with, but also divulging the corruption of Latin American aristocracy and government, and the carefully strategized takeovers of Latin American industry by foreign capitalists. It’s easy to paint over every issue with a paintbrush statement, but Open Veins exposes how ridiculously insidious, pervasive, and INTENTIONAL economic exploitation really is; that power imbalance, poverty, monopolies, corruption, etc are not mere accidents or side-effects, but occur by design of players the average person is unaware of.
This book does truly carry over into today, as Galeano’s descriptions and predictions for the political and economic state of the region can continue to be observed even now. This book focuses on Latin America but it contributes to a global conversation regarding socioeconomic inequalities born from capitalism, and the fate of “underdeveloped”/“developing” countries as a whole.
It’s easy for a lot of us to say “well the global south is fucked because of the west” and yes quite a bit of that is true. But this book tells you precisely how Latin America has become to be the way that it is, detailing not only the imperialist and colonialist history we might all be familiar with, but also divulging the corruption of Latin American aristocracy and government, and the carefully strategized takeovers of Latin American industry by foreign capitalists. It’s easy to paint over every issue with a paintbrush statement, but Open Veins exposes how ridiculously insidious, pervasive, and INTENTIONAL economic exploitation really is; that power imbalance, poverty, monopolies, corruption, etc are not mere accidents or side-effects, but occur by design of players the average person is unaware of.
This book does truly carry over into today, as Galeano’s descriptions and predictions for the political and economic state of the region can continue to be observed even now. This book focuses on Latin America but it contributes to a global conversation regarding socioeconomic inequalities born from capitalism, and the fate of “underdeveloped”/“developing” countries as a whole.
Whereabouts by Jhumpa Lahiri
emotional
reflective
relaxing
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
5.0
Minimalist and thoughtful. Melancholy and tender. This is precisely the book I needed to read at this precise point in my life oh my god? Highly recommend to any human being stuck in a period of transition —anyone who feels lonely, lost, unmotivated, fearful of the future, or grieving missed opportunities.
Firstly I love how the book is written. Simplicity is Lahiri’s signature writing style, and again her voice makes her work effortlessly approachable and somehow intimate. But she takes her minimalist approach to storytelling one step further by providing us with a protagonist we don’t know the name of, who interacts with other characters we don’t know the names of. This story is marked by Place as opposed to Person; the characters have vague identities but the chapters are titled by places, placing the focus on the protagonist’s environment and how that environment affects her inner being.
Secondly I adore the tender reflective melancholy undercurrents that ebb and flow through the course of the novel. Amidst others there is a sense of isolation and loneliness, and eventually, a soft affection for the presence of strangers. The protagonist laments the life she hasn’t lived and ruminates on what could be. She’s also tormented by the possibilities of the future. I love that this book touches on the loneliness of existence, but Lahiri also shines a silver glow over the beauty of every day life and encourages the exercise of gratitude and observation.
I feel this is a very honest novel about life and the reality of being a human being. It’s often a dull sadness punctuated by little joys. And in a culture that places so much emphasis on success and happiness, where we perform only our best selves and highlight our best moments for the people around us online and in real life, it’s such a relief to read a piece of literature that touches so close to home how disappointing life can often be without denying the magic of being and crystallizing the kinds of moments we live and wait for. It’s so important to acknowledge that life is given meaning by both the good AND the bad, and it damages us to focus purely on the good. Feeling that we are somehow failures for not perfectly following a prescribed narrative of how we should live our lives and how we have to achieve this pinnacle of Happiness (as if it’s somehow a permanent and tangible thing one catch capture). As if being sad or lonely or scared or different makes us somehow lesser and makes our lives a failure. This novel challenges this attitude with a refreshing openness towards the mundane.
I feel SEEN by this book and will definitely be recommending it to others.
Firstly I love how the book is written. Simplicity is Lahiri’s signature writing style, and again her voice makes her work effortlessly approachable and somehow intimate. But she takes her minimalist approach to storytelling one step further by providing us with a protagonist we don’t know the name of, who interacts with other characters we don’t know the names of. This story is marked by Place as opposed to Person; the characters have vague identities but the chapters are titled by places, placing the focus on the protagonist’s environment and how that environment affects her inner being.
Secondly I adore the tender reflective melancholy undercurrents that ebb and flow through the course of the novel. Amidst others there is a sense of isolation and loneliness, and eventually, a soft affection for the presence of strangers. The protagonist laments the life she hasn’t lived and ruminates on what could be. She’s also tormented by the possibilities of the future. I love that this book touches on the loneliness of existence, but Lahiri also shines a silver glow over the beauty of every day life and encourages the exercise of gratitude and observation.
I feel this is a very honest novel about life and the reality of being a human being. It’s often a dull sadness punctuated by little joys. And in a culture that places so much emphasis on success and happiness, where we perform only our best selves and highlight our best moments for the people around us online and in real life, it’s such a relief to read a piece of literature that touches so close to home how disappointing life can often be without denying the magic of being and crystallizing the kinds of moments we live and wait for. It’s so important to acknowledge that life is given meaning by both the good AND the bad, and it damages us to focus purely on the good. Feeling that we are somehow failures for not perfectly following a prescribed narrative of how we should live our lives and how we have to achieve this pinnacle of Happiness (as if it’s somehow a permanent and tangible thing one catch capture). As if being sad or lonely or scared or different makes us somehow lesser and makes our lives a failure. This novel challenges this attitude with a refreshing openness towards the mundane.
I feel SEEN by this book and will definitely be recommending it to others.
The Far Field by Madhuri Vijay
adventurous
challenging
emotional
mysterious
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.25
To be honest I’m not entirely sure what to think of this book. When I closed the cover I felt kind of confused and dissatisfied. The book is about a young woman from Bangalore (drenched in the privilege of city life) who ventures into Kashmir in pursuit of an old friend, where she discovers the messy conflict between India’s military and the locals.
What I loved about this book most was actually the characterization of Shalini’s mother, who suffers from mental illness, leaving a bittersweet taste in the mouths of all who love her. The difficulty of the mother-daughter relationship in the book was beautifully done. I also appreciated that even though we feel for Shalini we can also be very angry at her for being so stupid and naïve about a conflict she does not understand. And some people have docked points for this, which I disagree with. Sometimes it pays to have an unlikable narrator, as in this instance it might put you in the shoes of those who aren’t so privileged who have come to be angry with such naïvety. Shalini is a representation of the average urban Indian who lives in ignorance and causes damage just by that fact alone —even if she doesn’t mean to. Just having her heart in the right place isn’t enough. I am also VERY in love with Madhuri Vijay’s writing style. She’s witty, descriptive and ironic, which kept me turning the pages despite the book being paced slightly on the slow side.
But what I really didn’t like about the book was how vague it was? It feels like the book lacks direction due to a lack of detail surrounding the actual conflicts that affect the characters Shalini meets. There’s not much to be said in the way of motives for the parties involved in the action and the violence appears arbitrary. Near the end Shalini places herself adjacent to white tourists who visit Bangalore and discover “yoga and poverty” for the first time. So she’s aware that she’s a voyeur to issues that aren’t her own, but given her experiences I’d imagine she’d be far more invested in Kashmiri issues but she isn’t? She’s a coward? And maybe that’s the point of the book, that privileged people can be exposed to hurt and injustice (and even be a part of it) and can still walk away from it and not have to deal with it again? Which idk, it doesn’t feel very inspiring or revolutionary to me in any way. I know not all literature has to be a call-to-action exactly, but for a longer book I was kind of hoping for more character development at the very least. The ending felt weak and uninspired. I also feel that for as much detail as we get about Shalini’s mother, it doesn’t have ENOUGH to do with Shalini’s travels to Kashmir, despite her mother being a major catalyst for her going. I would’ve liked to see more parallels and “a-ha” moments in way of character development relating to the Mom Narrative as Shalini’s adventure in Kashmir unfolds.
I don’t know Madhuri Vijay’s background outside the fact that she herself is from Bangalore. And it feels like she’s very much like Shalini; she cares about other people enough to write a novel of their plight, but she doesn’t know enough to fully “get it” and she falls short on commentary. That said, this is her first work and I see so much promise and I would be interested in reading more from her in the future. Her writing is brilliant and engaging, when she digs deep into a character she can make an unlovable character remarkably interesting and magical, and although I think she missed the mark on this one I feel that she has the potential to create something truly great. I would love to see her explore more personal stories. This book was very politically oriented but it shined strongest when it focused on the difficult parent-child dynamics, mental illness, and navigating distrust. Perhaps this area could be her strength in future novels.
What I loved about this book most was actually the characterization of Shalini’s mother, who suffers from mental illness, leaving a bittersweet taste in the mouths of all who love her. The difficulty of the mother-daughter relationship in the book was beautifully done. I also appreciated that even though we feel for Shalini we can also be very angry at her for being so stupid and naïve about a conflict she does not understand. And some people have docked points for this, which I disagree with. Sometimes it pays to have an unlikable narrator, as in this instance it might put you in the shoes of those who aren’t so privileged who have come to be angry with such naïvety. Shalini is a representation of the average urban Indian who lives in ignorance and causes damage just by that fact alone —even if she doesn’t mean to. Just having her heart in the right place isn’t enough. I am also VERY in love with Madhuri Vijay’s writing style. She’s witty, descriptive and ironic, which kept me turning the pages despite the book being paced slightly on the slow side.
But what I really didn’t like about the book was how vague it was? It feels like the book lacks direction due to a lack of detail surrounding the actual conflicts that affect the characters Shalini meets. There’s not much to be said in the way of motives for the parties involved in the action and the violence appears arbitrary. Near the end Shalini places herself adjacent to white tourists who visit Bangalore and discover “yoga and poverty” for the first time. So she’s aware that she’s a voyeur to issues that aren’t her own, but given her experiences I’d imagine she’d be far more invested in Kashmiri issues but she isn’t? She’s a coward? And maybe that’s the point of the book, that privileged people can be exposed to hurt and injustice (and even be a part of it) and can still walk away from it and not have to deal with it again? Which idk, it doesn’t feel very inspiring or revolutionary to me in any way. I know not all literature has to be a call-to-action exactly, but for a longer book I was kind of hoping for more character development at the very least. The ending felt weak and uninspired. I also feel that for as much detail as we get about Shalini’s mother, it doesn’t have ENOUGH to do with Shalini’s travels to Kashmir, despite her mother being a major catalyst for her going. I would’ve liked to see more parallels and “a-ha” moments in way of character development relating to the Mom Narrative as Shalini’s adventure in Kashmir unfolds.
I don’t know Madhuri Vijay’s background outside the fact that she herself is from Bangalore. And it feels like she’s very much like Shalini; she cares about other people enough to write a novel of their plight, but she doesn’t know enough to fully “get it” and she falls short on commentary. That said, this is her first work and I see so much promise and I would be interested in reading more from her in the future. Her writing is brilliant and engaging, when she digs deep into a character she can make an unlovable character remarkably interesting and magical, and although I think she missed the mark on this one I feel that she has the potential to create something truly great. I would love to see her explore more personal stories. This book was very politically oriented but it shined strongest when it focused on the difficult parent-child dynamics, mental illness, and navigating distrust. Perhaps this area could be her strength in future novels.
In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
4.5
Aaaaahhhh this was such a beautifully written memoir!! Carmen Maria Machado’s imaginative prose and immersive narrative style plunges you into the relentless tide of confusion, passion and pain of the abuse she has suffered while sprinkling sharp wit in all the right places; I was fully engaged with this memoir and finished the audiobook in less than a day. I barely let it sit. She is an analytical writer and I fully appreciate her providing cultural and historical context for her memoir, as it does cover a very tricky and painful subject.
I think she does an incredible job of emphasizing the paradox she has been presented with in making the decision to openly discuss how same-sex abuse has impacted her life. She faces the issue of wanting to be a voice calling out of a sea of silenced others like her, but not wanting to paint the queer community in a negative light or perpetuate damaging stereotypes about gay women. She works through this by giving us a well-rounded history and analysis surrounding queer women and their relationships, addressing different angles at which to view the topic of sapphic abuse. As she shares her story she cites academic, literary, musical, and cinematic works that speak to her experience —how abuse is generally perceived, how gender and sexuality factor into this already messy and taboo subject, in what ways abuse manifests and how it’s understood by the heteronormative world, the hurricane of emotions that the victim is burdened with, and the psychology of an abusive dynamic and how it works (especially when you throw womanhood x2, queerness, and bisexuality into the mix).
This is an important work representing the quiet struggle of many queer women, but I especially appreciate getting such an artful, vulnerable account from a fellow bisexual woman specifically, because bi women do experience disproportionately high rates of abuse and distrust from their partners. I am thankful I have never had to live through what Carmen Maria Machado has, but I am grateful to hear a bisexual woman’s story and to be aware of what she has faced, and to see how her experience —the experience of a woman whose sexual and gender identity is not much different from mine— fits into the elusive archive of queer history and speaks to an issue that quietly permeates our community.
Gorgeously written, remarkably informative, and will leave a lasting impression on me without a doubt. Wishing her the best on her personal growth and recovery 💖
I think she does an incredible job of emphasizing the paradox she has been presented with in making the decision to openly discuss how same-sex abuse has impacted her life. She faces the issue of wanting to be a voice calling out of a sea of silenced others like her, but not wanting to paint the queer community in a negative light or perpetuate damaging stereotypes about gay women. She works through this by giving us a well-rounded history and analysis surrounding queer women and their relationships, addressing different angles at which to view the topic of sapphic abuse. As she shares her story she cites academic, literary, musical, and cinematic works that speak to her experience —how abuse is generally perceived, how gender and sexuality factor into this already messy and taboo subject, in what ways abuse manifests and how it’s understood by the heteronormative world, the hurricane of emotions that the victim is burdened with, and the psychology of an abusive dynamic and how it works (especially when you throw womanhood x2, queerness, and bisexuality into the mix).
This is an important work representing the quiet struggle of many queer women, but I especially appreciate getting such an artful, vulnerable account from a fellow bisexual woman specifically, because bi women do experience disproportionately high rates of abuse and distrust from their partners. I am thankful I have never had to live through what Carmen Maria Machado has, but I am grateful to hear a bisexual woman’s story and to be aware of what she has faced, and to see how her experience —the experience of a woman whose sexual and gender identity is not much different from mine— fits into the elusive archive of queer history and speaks to an issue that quietly permeates our community.
Gorgeously written, remarkably informative, and will leave a lasting impression on me without a doubt. Wishing her the best on her personal growth and recovery 💖
Vita Nostra by Sergey Dyachenko, Marina Dyachenko
adventurous
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
This book was a truly different experience from other fantasy/sci-fi type books I’ve read. “Vita Nostra” is a very thoughtful book that marries magical romanticism and scientific theory, perceiving the world and the self through layers of lenses that are compressed together to create a new view entirely. It has become a trend in recent decades that we often divorce The Sciences from The Arts and Humanities —considering them as two entirely separate worlds. But in this novel the Dyachenkos join them and observe how these relationships bind our universe together. How laws of physics dictate the nature of our material world, a relationship that dictates our every day experiences throughout time and space, which affects the essence of our being as we develop, our Selves, which we then express by way of language, which mirrors the nature of the universe in which we exist and also defines the nature of our existence; every concept is flipped in on itself and feeds into the next. As Sasha grows so does our understanding of her world —and perhaps our own.
I have two complaints with this book despite having thoroughly enjoyed it. Firstly I did not feel very moved about the protagonist when shit happens to her? When she experiences betrayals or fears I don’t feel very put in the moment due to a lack of description about her feelings or what is happening to her internally. In some areas horror or desperation is expressed, but in other areas where I would’ve expected anger or sadness I didn’t really feel much for her or I couldn’t get a grasp for how she’s feeling. A lot spent on Sasha’s studies and discoveries, and not enough spent showcasing her emotional and mental transformation as she makes her metaphysical and physical transformation.
Secondly my favorite part of this whole books was the philosophy of it. The romantic view of how science and language stitches us together in beauty and harmony, and also this recurring theme of projection which permeates every aspect of our reality. In the beginning the authors do apply some philosophy, like referencing Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, which made me believe this would be a highly philosophical book later on. And yes while the novel definitely held to its philosophical essence I felt they didn’t go quite deep enough. I would’ve liked to see deeper references to philosophy, physics, literature, music, etc to really solidify this premise of a gorgeously interlaced world that we don’t typically comprehend. I would blame this partially on the pacing. One novel encompasses three school years of instruction, and yet not enough detail of these lessons were present. The book focuses on her mental exercises and on the whimsy and magical elements (which is what held my attention throughout), but half the time the thought and heart of the work takes a backseat. A longer novel or perhaps three smaller books would’ve been more appropriate for the scale of this story, to account for the complexity of the subjects contributing to the work. ALTHOUGH I WILL SAY THIS: I am aware there is a second book and perhaps that book will offer more of this by design. So take this with a grain of salt.
Overall I would say this is a very fascinating read that was quite different from other school-set fantasies/sci-fis, and it was the plot and the concept as a whole that kept me engaged. The overall vibe reminds me of books like “The Golden Compass” or “The Blazing World”, for walking the fine-line between the scientific and the fantastic, and for also engaging in a conversation about our place in the universe and transformation. This is a good book for those who enjoy fantasies and sci-fis as doors to new thought and toying with abstract concepts. It’s not an adventurous, escapist novel, but a thoughtful and introspective one (albeit still with dramatic flair and shrouded in mystery).
I have two complaints with this book despite having thoroughly enjoyed it. Firstly I did not feel very moved about the protagonist when shit happens to her? When she experiences betrayals or fears I don’t feel very put in the moment due to a lack of description about her feelings or what is happening to her internally. In some areas horror or desperation is expressed, but in other areas where I would’ve expected anger or sadness I didn’t really feel much for her or I couldn’t get a grasp for how she’s feeling. A lot spent on Sasha’s studies and discoveries, and not enough spent showcasing her emotional and mental transformation as she makes her metaphysical and physical transformation.
Secondly my favorite part of this whole books was the philosophy of it. The romantic view of how science and language stitches us together in beauty and harmony, and also this recurring theme of projection which permeates every aspect of our reality. In the beginning the authors do apply some philosophy, like referencing Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, which made me believe this would be a highly philosophical book later on. And yes while the novel definitely held to its philosophical essence I felt they didn’t go quite deep enough. I would’ve liked to see deeper references to philosophy, physics, literature, music, etc to really solidify this premise of a gorgeously interlaced world that we don’t typically comprehend. I would blame this partially on the pacing. One novel encompasses three school years of instruction, and yet not enough detail of these lessons were present. The book focuses on her mental exercises and on the whimsy and magical elements (which is what held my attention throughout), but half the time the thought and heart of the work takes a backseat. A longer novel or perhaps three smaller books would’ve been more appropriate for the scale of this story, to account for the complexity of the subjects contributing to the work. ALTHOUGH I WILL SAY THIS: I am aware there is a second book and perhaps that book will offer more of this by design. So take this with a grain of salt.
Overall I would say this is a very fascinating read that was quite different from other school-set fantasies/sci-fis, and it was the plot and the concept as a whole that kept me engaged. The overall vibe reminds me of books like “The Golden Compass” or “The Blazing World”, for walking the fine-line between the scientific and the fantastic, and for also engaging in a conversation about our place in the universe and transformation. This is a good book for those who enjoy fantasies and sci-fis as doors to new thought and toying with abstract concepts. It’s not an adventurous, escapist novel, but a thoughtful and introspective one (albeit still with dramatic flair and shrouded in mystery).
The Death of Vivek Oji by Akwaeke Emezi
dark
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
It’s funny that I was reading this book at the same time I was reading “The God of Small Things”, another novel of forbidden loves and the oppressive expectations of society, also told in a non-linear fashion.
I think I’m just becoming a fan of the non-linear style in general and this novel used it well. Emezi has written a mystery full of love and sorrow that ends with quite a twist that breaks your heart into a million pieces. The focus of this novel falls on the issues of what happens to people who deviate from the accepted gender norms of society —how families and friends interact, the importance of acceptance in ensuring happiness for a queer person, how conservative societies perceive and react to queer people; how does a queer person reconcile happiness and expectation?
I didn’t quite like all of the peripheral characters because they didn’t feel like they were fleshed out enough and felt more like two-dimensional stand-ins for the most part. But I think Vivek and Osita’s characterizations made up for it and provided a beautiful foil: a queer person who accepts themselves and seeks to push their limits, and a queer person who hides themselves and lives in fear. One lives and one dies, but who TRULY lives in the end?
I think my favorite chapters in this book were Vivek’s, which placed a wise, tender voice over the pain and frustration the other characters carried. Of all the characters in the book, Vivek was the one with the greatest understanding and the greatest inner peace, even though he was the one most hotly questioned by everyone else. I also loved how Emezi wove West African belief into Vivek’s identity, which must be very affirming and comforting for queer West Africans, but I also hope Western audiences take note of it too. Queer identities are neither new nor exclusively Western, and they sprout all over the world and in all cultures.
The ending of this book is what really took the cake for me though.
This is the first review I’m writing with an actual proper spoiler because the ending of this book was so impactful. I found it very interesting that it wasn’t Vivek that killed himself, and it wasn’t society or his family that killed him, but his closeted lover and cousin —even if it was an accident. Which is honestly the most beautiful way a tragic story like this could have ended. That sometimes it’s not the outside world but the FEAR of the outside world that will kill you. Nnemdi lived her life as full as she could live it despite all the risks because it’s better to die as she is than to live as who she wasn’t. And Osita could not grasp that wisdom, desiring to hide Nnemdi to keep her alive, but in the attempt, ended her life. I feel the greatest takeaway from this book isn’t that queer people can often expect oppression and rejection, because we already know that. It’s that regardless of what a queer person chooses to do with their lives, it’s the duty of the people around them to support them in their decisions and their identity. That trying to change them or trying to hide them, even with the right intentions, is a sure way to smother them.
I also hope that if an unsure parent out there reads this book they take away the lesson that Vivek’s parents learned: that to accept your child in life is better than having to accept them in death. Perhaps Vivek could’ve lived a longer life had he known his parents wanted to understand him and protect him.
I think I’m just becoming a fan of the non-linear style in general and this novel used it well. Emezi has written a mystery full of love and sorrow that ends with quite a twist that breaks your heart into a million pieces. The focus of this novel falls on the issues of what happens to people who deviate from the accepted gender norms of society —how families and friends interact, the importance of acceptance in ensuring happiness for a queer person, how conservative societies perceive and react to queer people; how does a queer person reconcile happiness and expectation?
I didn’t quite like all of the peripheral characters because they didn’t feel like they were fleshed out enough and felt more like two-dimensional stand-ins for the most part. But I think Vivek and Osita’s characterizations made up for it and provided a beautiful foil: a queer person who accepts themselves and seeks to push their limits, and a queer person who hides themselves and lives in fear. One lives and one dies, but who TRULY lives in the end?
I think my favorite chapters in this book were Vivek’s, which placed a wise, tender voice over the pain and frustration the other characters carried. Of all the characters in the book, Vivek was the one with the greatest understanding and the greatest inner peace, even though he was the one most hotly questioned by everyone else. I also loved how Emezi wove West African belief into Vivek’s identity, which must be very affirming and comforting for queer West Africans, but I also hope Western audiences take note of it too. Queer identities are neither new nor exclusively Western, and they sprout all over the world and in all cultures.
The ending of this book is what really took the cake for me though.
I also hope that if an unsure parent out there reads this book they take away the lesson that Vivek’s parents learned: that to accept your child in life is better than having to accept them in death. Perhaps Vivek could’ve lived a longer life had he known his parents wanted to understand him and protect him.
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.5
A story of jealousy and blind contempt born from the rigid hierarchies within Indian society, The God of Small Things tells of how oppressive societal structures quietly ripple into larger tragedy. Colonialism further emboldening a higher caste to shit on those who rank below them; the duties and burdens of womanhood encircling victims in bitterness and envy; the oppressor succumbing to the anxiety that the oppressed will someday punish their corruption and cruelty; the loneliness of clueless children condemned to expectation without being truly seen. The quiet suffering of each character culminates in a catastrophe that no one dares speak of.
Arundhati Roy shrouds traumas in mystery, lifting veil after veil as she jumps around her narrative; the book skips from the past to the present to the future, in a more “stream-of-conscious” way of remembering, where one focus is interrupted by a memory or a reflection on a related event, which is then interrupted again by a different topic that is still somehow related to the greater narrative in a roundabout way.
The novel is told more from the perspective of the children, whose confusion at the events that unfold highlight the senselessness of everyone’s suffering. Roy’s writing style is poetic and playful and captures this childhood lens by employing clever use of wordplay, rhyme, repetition, rhythm and poetry —not unlike children’s books or nursery rhymes.
I very much loved Roy’s non-linear method of storytelling and I think it amplifies the power of each event throughout the book because past, present and future provide context for each other. It almost feels like the ENTIRE narrative is frozen in time because everything is Happening At The Same Time. Not exactly a spoiler but the novel ends at The Middle and not at The End, and it just leaves a profoundly bittersweet melancholy in you when you close the book. That underneath the layers of politics in book, it all boils down to people just trying to be people in a world that won’t let them.