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goblinhearted's reviews
76 reviews
The Word for World is Forest by Ursula K. Le Guin
In this novella, humans have destroyed their planet’s natural world and, in their desperation, decide to colonize another world to harvest natural resources.
This story serves as an allegory for American imperialism and the Vietnam War, which was ongoing at the time of writing. The antagonist, Captain Davidson, embodies the worst aspects of imperialism, colonialism, and toxic masculinity.
I found this book deeply resonant. It’s rare to find fiction that so thoroughly critiques and highlights the destructive nature of imperialism and colonialism. Some have criticized the novella for its stark depiction of good and evil, or for its messaging being too preachy (which it sort of is, at least by Le Guin's nuanced storytelling reputation). However, my thoughts are this: when it comes to the subjugation of an indigenous population for free labor and entertainment, the moral and ethical lines are indeed black and white.
4.0
“Some people are quick to see cruelty and injustice but I was slow. I had to put the pieces together myself and it took a long time. It's kinda hard to admit that your people did something awful. The way I usually handle it is to put it into a novel.” ~ Ursula K. Le Guin
In this novella, humans have destroyed their planet’s natural world and, in their desperation, decide to colonize another world to harvest natural resources.
This story serves as an allegory for American imperialism and the Vietnam War, which was ongoing at the time of writing. The antagonist, Captain Davidson, embodies the worst aspects of imperialism, colonialism, and toxic masculinity.
I found this book deeply resonant. It’s rare to find fiction that so thoroughly critiques and highlights the destructive nature of imperialism and colonialism. Some have criticized the novella for its stark depiction of good and evil, or for its messaging being too preachy (which it sort of is, at least by Le Guin's nuanced storytelling reputation). However, my thoughts are this: when it comes to the subjugation of an indigenous population for free labor and entertainment, the moral and ethical lines are indeed black and white.
My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh
3.5
This novel plays on a stark juxtaposition: a beautiful, privileged young woman who, on the surface, seems to have every (material) thing she could want. However, beneath this facade, she is consumed by depression and self-loathing, reinforced by her family history and personal relationships.
Who hasn’t dreamed of taking a year off work to focus on mental health and wellbeing? Moshfeigh takes this concept and pushes it to its extreme. While, enviously, the protagonist’s wealth ensures that money is no concern, her version of a ‘year of rest and relaxation’ is a dark, disturbing descent into forced dissociation through drug abuse.
Throughout its nearly 300 pages, the novel delves into the outcomes of depression and unresolved family trauma. In this sense, the subject matter was uncomfortable and, at times, challenging to read.
This book was an out-of-my-comfort-zone read, one I was almost certain I’d dislike. Even now, I grapple with my feelings about it. I didn’t love it, but I didn’t quite hate it either. I appreciate the overall idea it explored.
I enjoyed the ambiguity of the result of our protagonist’s “year of rest and relaxation, which could be interpreted in a variety of ways. Everything is not what it seems. I appreciate books that make us think, that give us something to discuss and debate at the end.
Who hasn’t dreamed of taking a year off work to focus on mental health and wellbeing? Moshfeigh takes this concept and pushes it to its extreme. While, enviously, the protagonist’s wealth ensures that money is no concern, her version of a ‘year of rest and relaxation’ is a dark, disturbing descent into forced dissociation through drug abuse.
Throughout its nearly 300 pages, the novel delves into the outcomes of depression and unresolved family trauma. In this sense, the subject matter was uncomfortable and, at times, challenging to read.
This book was an out-of-my-comfort-zone read, one I was almost certain I’d dislike. Even now, I grapple with my feelings about it. I didn’t love it, but I didn’t quite hate it either. I appreciate the overall idea it explored.
I enjoyed the ambiguity of the result of our protagonist’s “year of rest and relaxation, which could be interpreted in a variety of ways. Everything is not what it seems. I appreciate books that make us think, that give us something to discuss and debate at the end.
A Wizard of Earthsea: The First Book of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin
2.0
I am ashamed by how much I didn’t like this book. I know I shouldn’t be, but after intensely enjoying other books in Le Guin’s bibliography and hearing so many people speak so highly about this book and series, I accept that I am the problem here.
I just couldn’t connect with the concept as a whole. For such a short book, it felt like it stretched on forever. There was too much seafaring for my tastes, which made it difficult for me to stay focused on the story. The narrative felt like it was painted in broad strokes, reminiscent of a campfire tale or a retelling of a myth. While that style can be effective, it didn’t resonate with me in this longer format.
The story also had a certain masculine essence that I struggled to articulate until I came across an interview where Le Guin admitted, “What I’d been doing as a writer was being a woman pretending to think like a man.” That revelation helped clarify why A Wizard of Earthsea felt different from what I’ve come to love about her work. It lacked the special touch that I so deeply relate to as a woman, and instead, it felt like any other basic and forgettable fantasy tale. This could be because so many works since its writing have been derivative of it (like the Harry Potter series), which might make it seem bland and overdone to a new reader.
That said, I’m not giving up on this series. I’ve been reassured that The Tombs of Atuan and Tehanu showcase the glimmer of what I love in Le Guin’s work, and I intend to give the series another chance with those books!
I just couldn’t connect with the concept as a whole. For such a short book, it felt like it stretched on forever. There was too much seafaring for my tastes, which made it difficult for me to stay focused on the story. The narrative felt like it was painted in broad strokes, reminiscent of a campfire tale or a retelling of a myth. While that style can be effective, it didn’t resonate with me in this longer format.
The story also had a certain masculine essence that I struggled to articulate until I came across an interview where Le Guin admitted, “What I’d been doing as a writer was being a woman pretending to think like a man.” That revelation helped clarify why A Wizard of Earthsea felt different from what I’ve come to love about her work. It lacked the special touch that I so deeply relate to as a woman, and instead, it felt like any other basic and forgettable fantasy tale. This could be because so many works since its writing have been derivative of it (like the Harry Potter series), which might make it seem bland and overdone to a new reader.
That said, I’m not giving up on this series. I’ve been reassured that The Tombs of Atuan and Tehanu showcase the glimmer of what I love in Le Guin’s work, and I intend to give the series another chance with those books!
I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman
5.0
I went into this completely blind, with no expectations, and I was pleasantly surprised.
Our narrator is a young woman who is locked inside of a cage in an underground bunker with a handful of other women. Captured at such a young age, she has no memories of life outside the bunker. This is where the story begins.
This novel is a slow-paced, introspective work of science fiction, bordering on dystopia. It raises many questions but provides few answers. Much of what the story offers are philosophical questions posed against a bleak, desolate, and haunting atmosphere.
It’s one of those books where the negative space takes center stage. What’s unsaid says the most. It was quite unlike anything else I’ve ever read. I loved it.
Our narrator is a young woman who is locked inside of a cage in an underground bunker with a handful of other women. Captured at such a young age, she has no memories of life outside the bunker. This is where the story begins.
This novel is a slow-paced, introspective work of science fiction, bordering on dystopia. It raises many questions but provides few answers. Much of what the story offers are philosophical questions posed against a bleak, desolate, and haunting atmosphere.
It’s one of those books where the negative space takes center stage. What’s unsaid says the most. It was quite unlike anything else I’ve ever read. I loved it.
Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
Did not finish book. Stopped at 58%.
Did not finish book. Stopped at 58%.
I really liked the inclusion of Mayan mythology, but I had a hard time with the execution of the story. I think maybe the plot in general leaned too much toward romance/YA which are not typically my cup of tea. I also felt the writing style could be a little dry sometimes.
I understand the emphasis on telling over showing is to make it seem more like a myth, but I've struggled with similar books which took this tact (Earthsea). I think this type of style works well for short stories but for longer pieces of work, it makes the narration seem dry. I also felt like there was a lot of repetition - like the omniscient narrator would tell us something (like the background between the twin gods of death) and then the protagonist would ask about it and it would be repeated through conversation.
In the end I decided to stop, even though I was just over halfway because I felt like finishing it would be too tiresome.
I understand the emphasis on telling over showing is to make it seem more like a myth, but I've struggled with similar books which took this tact (Earthsea). I think this type of style works well for short stories but for longer pieces of work, it makes the narration seem dry. I also felt like there was a lot of repetition - like the omniscient narrator would tell us something (like the background between the twin gods of death) and then the protagonist would ask about it and it would be repeated through conversation.
In the end I decided to stop, even though I was just over halfway because I felt like finishing it would be too tiresome.
The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson
Did not finish book. Stopped at 33%.
Did not finish book. Stopped at 33%.
I read the whole first part of this book and I think there were just too many aspects of it which didn't jive well with me. It was more than just the writing style. I don't think I felt connected to any character, and I found a lot of the "intrigue" a bit lackluster and mechanical. The premise sounded promising and I'm disappointed not to finish, but I could not go on.
Earthlings by Sayaka Murata
3.5
After reading Convenience Store Woman, Earthlings is my second encounter with Murata’s storytelling. This novel has a reputation for being especially strange, and while I can’t disagree, I wouldn’t say it’s the weirdest book I’ve ever read.
Thematically, Earthlings feels like a darker, more unsettling sibling to Convenience Store Woman. Once again, the protagonist defies societal expectations by rejecting the traditional path of career and family, opting for an unconventional marriage to avoid questions and pressure from loved ones. This time, however, these choices are framed as a response to deep-rooted childhood trauma, adding a more disturbing layer to the narrative.
I appreciated these themes, as they resonate with topics I enjoy exploring in books. Murata’s examination of societal norms and the alienation of those who don't conform is compelling and relatable.
That said, the ending veers into wild, unhinged territory, feeling a bit too over-the-top compared to the more grounded tone of the earlier chapters. It seems to aim for shock value, but instead comes off as disconnected from the rest of the book. The abrupt shift doesn’t mesh well with the carefully built narrative that precedes it, making the conclusion feel somewhat forced. Some have described it as a "metaphor-made-literal," which is an apt description, but the execution felt a bit off. The events aren't portrayed in a realistic way, which could have softened the jarring impact and made the impact darker and less cartoonish. As it stands, the shock factor feels like the primary focus, which ultimately diminishes the overall cohesion of the story.
While I enjoyed Earthlings, I’m not sure it’s something I’d actively recommend. It’s an interesting read, but its bizarre ending may not resonate with everyone.
Thematically, Earthlings feels like a darker, more unsettling sibling to Convenience Store Woman. Once again, the protagonist defies societal expectations by rejecting the traditional path of career and family, opting for an unconventional marriage to avoid questions and pressure from loved ones. This time, however, these choices are framed as a response to deep-rooted childhood trauma, adding a more disturbing layer to the narrative.
I appreciated these themes, as they resonate with topics I enjoy exploring in books. Murata’s examination of societal norms and the alienation of those who don't conform is compelling and relatable.
That said, the ending veers into wild, unhinged territory, feeling a bit too over-the-top compared to the more grounded tone of the earlier chapters. It seems to aim for shock value, but instead comes off as disconnected from the rest of the book. The abrupt shift doesn’t mesh well with the carefully built narrative that precedes it, making the conclusion feel somewhat forced. Some have described it as a "metaphor-made-literal," which is an apt description, but the execution felt a bit off. The events aren't portrayed in a realistic way, which could have softened the jarring impact and made the impact darker and less cartoonish. As it stands, the shock factor feels like the primary focus, which ultimately diminishes the overall cohesion of the story.
While I enjoyed Earthlings, I’m not sure it’s something I’d actively recommend. It’s an interesting read, but its bizarre ending may not resonate with everyone.
The Power by Naomi Alderman
2.0
I really wanted to like this book. After the first few chapters, my mind was reeling with possibilities at the concept: women develop a gland that allows them to shoot electricity from their fingertips. I was so completely on board… until I wasn’t.
The title, “The Power”, is significant here. The novel explores the nature of power, and what happens when someone has an abundance of it. The execution felt heavy-handed and one-dimensional.
What drew me to this concept was the potential to explore the impact of power on women– historically, a group that’s been oppressed and forced into subservient roles. I was interested in how this newfound power would influence and change them.
My biggest critique is that the book seems to overlook the reasons why women have been oppressed in the first place. It felt disconnected from feminist and gender theory. While some might argue that the author didn’t set out to write a feminist novel, it’s hard to ignore the implications when the story revolves around such a significant change for an entire gender as a group.
This book felt like a missed opportunity. The central message seemed to boil down to "Power is bad," which felt too simplistic for such a long and complex story.
One of my major issues is how this "power is bad" message is conveyed. Essentially, the women in the book start to abuse their power in the same ways men historically have:by subjugating the opposite sex, humiliating them publicly, and even resorting to rape and violence just because they can.
I felt like this novel could have been so much more, but it wasn't.
The title, “The Power”, is significant here. The novel explores the nature of power, and what happens when someone has an abundance of it. The execution felt heavy-handed and one-dimensional.
What drew me to this concept was the potential to explore the impact of power on women– historically, a group that’s been oppressed and forced into subservient roles. I was interested in how this newfound power would influence and change them.
My biggest critique is that the book seems to overlook the reasons why women have been oppressed in the first place. It felt disconnected from feminist and gender theory. While some might argue that the author didn’t set out to write a feminist novel, it’s hard to ignore the implications when the story revolves around such a significant change for an entire gender as a group.
This book felt like a missed opportunity. The central message seemed to boil down to "Power is bad," which felt too simplistic for such a long and complex story.
One of my major issues is how this "power is bad" message is conveyed. Essentially, the women in the book start to abuse their power in the same ways men historically have:
I felt like this novel could have been so much more, but it wasn't.
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
5.0
This is my third or fourth read of this novel. When I was a teenager, I gravitated toward two things in literature: beautiful prose and extremely messed up plots and characters. As a result, this book has become a little bit of a comfort read - one in which I discover something new every time I read it.
I noticed that people always talk about how poetic the prose is (it’s gorgeous) but I rarely see anyone talk about how the writing shines in other ways, like its humor and cleverness.
There’s a stark dissonance between the clever and funny Humbert and the darkness and derangement of his obsession not only with titular Lolita but all other ‘nymphets’. He bases his entire existence on being a pedophile. He describes Lo’s heartbreaking behavior - her reactions to the trauma he puts her though - between lighthearted jokes and sharp wit creating a harrowing contrast between dark and light.
In fact, I highlighted a lot of quotes that demonstrate this cleverness in hopes of including it here in this review, and I realize now that so much of it is heavily context-dependent, to the point where it feels like he is sharing context-heavy “inside jokes” with the reader, which makes it hard to share, but also makes the humor in them feel so much more complex?
It’s also worth mentioning that it felt like at least one third of this book completely went over my head, even after reading it as many times as I did. This is because Nabokov relies so much on references - and also a ton of French.
I will be sure to read the annotated edition in the future, to pick up on everything. This is confirmed to still be one of my favorites.
I noticed that people always talk about how poetic the prose is (it’s gorgeous) but I rarely see anyone talk about how the writing shines in other ways, like its humor and cleverness.
There’s a stark dissonance between the clever and funny Humbert and the darkness and derangement of his obsession not only with titular Lolita but all other ‘nymphets’. He bases his entire existence on being a pedophile. He describes Lo’s heartbreaking behavior - her reactions to the trauma he puts her though - between lighthearted jokes and sharp wit creating a harrowing contrast between dark and light.
In fact, I highlighted a lot of quotes that demonstrate this cleverness in hopes of including it here in this review, and I realize now that so much of it is heavily context-dependent, to the point where it feels like he is sharing context-heavy “inside jokes” with the reader, which makes it hard to share, but also makes the humor in them feel so much more complex?
It’s also worth mentioning that it felt like at least one third of this book completely went over my head, even after reading it as many times as I did. This is because Nabokov relies so much on references - and also a ton of French.
I will be sure to read the annotated edition in the future, to pick up on everything. This is confirmed to still be one of my favorites.
The Image of Her by Sonia Velton
3.5
Full disclosure: I picked up this book expecting it to feature a sapphic vibes (I must have skimmed the synopsis too quickly and made some assumptions based on the title). That said, it turned out to be an interesting blind read, and I went into it with no idea what to expect.
It became clear early on that this book was different from what I imagined, but it still intrigued me. A lot of the story hinges on a twist revealed at the end, which I didn’t see coming, so points for that!
However, I did feel like the pacing dragged at times. The novel is split between two perspectives—Stella’s and Connie’s—and for me, the risk with dual narratives is that I’ll inevitably be more engaged with one than the other. While this happened, it wasn’t as strong as I expected. I found both characters relatable to a degree, but Connie’s story was more compelling, and I enjoyed her chapters more.
Connie’s situation is interesting: she’s been dragged to Dubai for her husband’s work and is deeply unhappy. She’s isolated from her friends and family, limited in her own career, and resents the ex-pat lifestyle that flaunts wealth and leisure. I appreciated her discomfort with the idea of hiring a migrant worker as a maid, though I was disappointed when she did it anyway. However, I was glad the book touched on the conditions of migrant workers—it made me wish the story focused more on that rather than keeping it in the background of Connie’s otherwise privileged life.
Stella’s narrative centers around her complicated relationship with her mother, whom she cared for over many years at the cost of her own freedom. While I found this unexpectedly relatable, her chapters felt repetitive and dragged a bit, with the same emotions and conflicts playing out again and again (which, I’ll admit, might have been the point).
In the end, the book was more lukewarm for me than I’d hoped. The twist was a nice surprise, but overall, the reading experience was milder than I would’ve liked.
It became clear early on that this book was different from what I imagined, but it still intrigued me. A lot of the story hinges on a twist revealed at the end, which I didn’t see coming, so points for that!
However, I did feel like the pacing dragged at times. The novel is split between two perspectives—Stella’s and Connie’s—and for me, the risk with dual narratives is that I’ll inevitably be more engaged with one than the other. While this happened, it wasn’t as strong as I expected. I found both characters relatable to a degree, but Connie’s story was more compelling, and I enjoyed her chapters more.
Connie’s situation is interesting: she’s been dragged to Dubai for her husband’s work and is deeply unhappy. She’s isolated from her friends and family, limited in her own career, and resents the ex-pat lifestyle that flaunts wealth and leisure. I appreciated her discomfort with the idea of hiring a migrant worker as a maid, though I was disappointed when she did it anyway. However, I was glad the book touched on the conditions of migrant workers—it made me wish the story focused more on that rather than keeping it in the background of Connie’s otherwise privileged life.
Stella’s narrative centers around her complicated relationship with her mother, whom she cared for over many years at the cost of her own freedom. While I found this unexpectedly relatable, her chapters felt repetitive and dragged a bit, with the same emotions and conflicts playing out again and again (which, I’ll admit, might have been the point).
In the end, the book was more lukewarm for me than I’d hoped. The twist was a nice surprise, but overall, the reading experience was milder than I would’ve liked.