Take a photo of a barcode or cover
jefferz's reviews
132 reviews
The Possession of Mr. Cave by Matt Haig
dark
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Unsettling, disturbing, and brilliant in a twisted way, The Possession of Mr. Cave by Matt Haig is an intense read that fully commits to its narrative. Whether most readers are prepared for what that entails is an entirely different discussion (definitely check trigger warnings before hand). The “horror” moniker gets tossed around quite loosely these days, ranging from slashers to psychological insanity to anything that is vaguely related to the supernatural. This book however taps into the quiet, heavy, foreboding type of horror that occurs when someone is witnessing something horrific but can’t look away or stop it; it's conceptualized like a modern Shakespearean tragedy. The character narration and story is made all the more uncomfortable by Haig’s very effective use of the 2nd person perspective that pulls you into the story and traps you in Bryony’s shoes. The way the novel constantly refers to Bryony as “you” hits home the perspective of the characters and the horrors of what a parent is capable of doing. Complemented by excellent writing and Haig’s now distinctive heavily introspective style, I found this novel to be unlike anything I’ve read in a long time, one that I didn’t necessarily enjoy reading but one I nonetheless found impressive and rewarding to finish.
I’ve made it a personal goal to read all of Matt Haig’s novels and have started to get to some of his earlier, more obscure and overlooked works including this one (if you lookup rankings for his books and recommendations, some leave off The Dead Fathers Club and most don’t even recognize The Possession of Mr. Cave exists). Reading Haig’s early novels is fascinating as they are considerably darker and delve heavier into different mental conditions and breakdowns. They are also less restrained compared to his more mainstream works, yet you can still tell they are written by the same author with his recognizable style. The Possession of Mr. Cave is probably his most niche novel to date and follows similar themes and setup as The Dead Fathers Club. I used to consider The Radleys as the off-beat black sheep of his books but this one certainly takes the cake, with The Radleys acting as an interesting bridge and incorporating elements from these earlier bleak stories and his later more hopeful tales.
The title “The Possession of Mr. Cave” itself is a genius title that works for both definitions of the word “possessed”, as well as a metaphor for the workings of the internal mind. Presented as a letter written by Terence Cave to his daughter Bryony, the story chronicles Terence’s gradual spiral into madness and the effects that has on their relationship. The first reference of “possession” is the obvious supernatural element involving sights, feelings, and memories Terence experiences that lead both the reader and himself to believe he may be possessed by a deceased family member close to him. What starts initially as unusual visions and dreams turn into full-on episodes of uncontrollable actions, blackout moments, and relived memories that he couldn't have possibly experienced. The novel makes it clear that these possession experiences are meant to portray Terence as being delusional, and as the story progresses, you start to wonder if he’s really just mad or if something is really happening to him. The 2nd person perspective works pitch perfect here and enhances the effect of the unreliable narrator element. Only a few select paragraphs during the story’s conclusion are written in a 3rd person perspective which leaves the entire rest of the story up for interpretation on what is real and what is not. Terence does creepy, horrible things to those around him and somehow finds a way to rationalize every action, but has he realized the error of his ways now as he’s writing his story to Bryony or did something in him break? The books resolution also leaves similar questions hinging heavily on whether the reader follows the supernatural interpretation or the more literal interpretation of events.
The second definition of “possession” is equally appropriate to the story, Mr. Cave’s possession of Bryony herself under his parental control. After experiencing a series of losses in his family, Terence’s fatherly concerns for his daughter’s safety and well-being morphs into that of complete sheltering, control, deprivation of freedom and grossly unhealthy possession. Unsettling, creepy, extreme, and at times disturbing, Terence’s blindness to the pain and damage he inflicts on Bryony and everyone around her is portrayed with such intensity and horror. This is made all the more conflicting with each of his actions prefaced by his own deduction and rational in the best interest of Bryony. While his controlling nature would be tough to stomach on its own, Terence’s distorted rational and internal decision making makes it all ever worse. Is this pleasant to read? Absolutely not. Is it a page-turner, inspiring gross fascination of how much worse Terence can go? Yes.
The third interpretation of “possession” is more a metaphorical one with Terence being possessed not by voices of the deceased, but by Terence’s own mental state. While Terence is without question the “villain” of his own story, a lot of the narrative can be interpreted as the suffering and spiraling of a man unable to process his grief and potentially pre-existing mental illnesses that are aggravated by recent deaths. Terence exhibits clear signs of OCD, some type of attachment disorder, eventually paranoia, all conditions that heavily affect and color what he sees. The portrayal of his mother Cynthia and others trying to reason with Terence only to be dismissed due to his own reasoning is very well done. While a lot has changed in recent years compared to when this book was published in 2008, there is still a negative stigma associated with mental illnesses and therapy which this book loosely points to. Whether it was a conscious choice or not, this can also be interpreted as commentary on the general state of British Mental Health care and societal views. Had Terence been forced by Cynthia or others to address his past trauma and grief, this entire tragedy could have easily been avoided. This is most poignant in the concluding pages where Terence relives some of his childhood neglect and finally acknowledges the latent “evil” within him and questions whether these thoughts were a recent development or a flaw that was always a part of him. The intense immediate judgment and unfair prejudice he has against some characters are only further insight into his mental instability and his unconscious choice to see the worst possible scenario in every situation.
Unless you find joy in other peoples’ misery (admittingly me at times, oops), none of the above content would be remotely tolerable or worth reading if not for Haig’s impeccable writing. You know the situation can only end badly but it’s the experience and details along the way that make the descent into madness worthwhile. Terence’s characterization and decision making, despite being heavily flawed and crazy, is so well done and rationalized in the most twisted manner. While incapable of following or reading social cues (I considered this might’ve alluded to Haig’s own experiences of being diagnosed on the spectrum but removed this part of the review for its lack of relevance to the story), his actions and choices make perfect logical sense in his mind. His decisions always manage to make the worst decision from the reader's perspective, but the way Haig humanizes and twists Terence’s well-meaning intentions into something unrecognizable is impeccable. While I’ve taken issue with the pacing in some of Haig’s more recent novels, this one is one of the most consistent, aided by its relatively short length and intensity.
Despite the dark content that feels worlds away from The Midnight Library, The Humans or How to Stop Time, Haig’s style is still recognizable here. Perhaps freed thanks to the narrator’s unhinged psyche, all of Haig’s strengths are on full display. The meandering yet thought-provoking self-reflections, the internalized guilt, questioning life, it’s all here in The Possession of Mr. Cave. The dark premise allows Haig to dig deep into the worst parts of human behavior without any of the quirks or fantasy elements to dull the impact or to require a “happy ending.” To be sure, the story is not a happy ending and is a frank tragedy to all involved. I had written in my notes that reading this novel felt like a modern Shakespearean tragedy in which good intentions go so bad, which is completely and accidentally on the nose considering Haig’s first two novels The Last Family in England and Dead Fathers Club are based on Shakespearean plays (I was going to say tragedies specifically, though Henry IV, Part 1 isn’t technically a tragedy). Everything that can go wrong goes wrong, and that makes a fascinating read. While I can’t imagine anyone possibly giving The Possession of Mr. Cave a 5-star rating for pure enjoyability, it certainly deserves high marks for its objective strengths and excellent writing (4.5 rating from me overall).
I’ve made it a personal goal to read all of Matt Haig’s novels and have started to get to some of his earlier, more obscure and overlooked works including this one (if you lookup rankings for his books and recommendations, some leave off The Dead Fathers Club and most don’t even recognize The Possession of Mr. Cave exists). Reading Haig’s early novels is fascinating as they are considerably darker and delve heavier into different mental conditions and breakdowns. They are also less restrained compared to his more mainstream works, yet you can still tell they are written by the same author with his recognizable style. The Possession of Mr. Cave is probably his most niche novel to date and follows similar themes and setup as The Dead Fathers Club. I used to consider The Radleys as the off-beat black sheep of his books but this one certainly takes the cake, with The Radleys acting as an interesting bridge and incorporating elements from these earlier bleak stories and his later more hopeful tales.
The title “The Possession of Mr. Cave” itself is a genius title that works for both definitions of the word “possessed”, as well as a metaphor for the workings of the internal mind. Presented as a letter written by Terence Cave to his daughter Bryony, the story chronicles Terence’s gradual spiral into madness and the effects that has on their relationship. The first reference of “possession” is the obvious supernatural element involving sights, feelings, and memories Terence experiences that lead both the reader and himself to believe he may be possessed by a deceased family member close to him. What starts initially as unusual visions and dreams turn into full-on episodes of uncontrollable actions, blackout moments, and relived memories that he couldn't have possibly experienced. The novel makes it clear that these possession experiences are meant to portray Terence as being delusional, and as the story progresses, you start to wonder if he’s really just mad or if something is really happening to him. The 2nd person perspective works pitch perfect here and enhances the effect of the unreliable narrator element. Only a few select paragraphs during the story’s conclusion are written in a 3rd person perspective which leaves the entire rest of the story up for interpretation on what is real and what is not. Terence does creepy, horrible things to those around him and somehow finds a way to rationalize every action, but has he realized the error of his ways now as he’s writing his story to Bryony or did something in him break? The books resolution also leaves similar questions hinging heavily on whether the reader follows the supernatural interpretation or the more literal interpretation of events.
The second definition of “possession” is equally appropriate to the story, Mr. Cave’s possession of Bryony herself under his parental control. After experiencing a series of losses in his family, Terence’s fatherly concerns for his daughter’s safety and well-being morphs into that of complete sheltering, control, deprivation of freedom and grossly unhealthy possession. Unsettling, creepy, extreme, and at times disturbing, Terence’s blindness to the pain and damage he inflicts on Bryony and everyone around her is portrayed with such intensity and horror. This is made all the more conflicting with each of his actions prefaced by his own deduction and rational in the best interest of Bryony. While his controlling nature would be tough to stomach on its own, Terence’s distorted rational and internal decision making makes it all ever worse. Is this pleasant to read? Absolutely not. Is it a page-turner, inspiring gross fascination of how much worse Terence can go? Yes.
The third interpretation of “possession” is more a metaphorical one with Terence being possessed not by voices of the deceased, but by Terence’s own mental state. While Terence is without question the “villain” of his own story, a lot of the narrative can be interpreted as the suffering and spiraling of a man unable to process his grief and potentially pre-existing mental illnesses that are aggravated by recent deaths. Terence exhibits clear signs of OCD, some type of attachment disorder, eventually paranoia, all conditions that heavily affect and color what he sees. The portrayal of his mother Cynthia and others trying to reason with Terence only to be dismissed due to his own reasoning is very well done. While a lot has changed in recent years compared to when this book was published in 2008, there is still a negative stigma associated with mental illnesses and therapy which this book loosely points to. Whether it was a conscious choice or not, this can also be interpreted as commentary on the general state of British Mental Health care and societal views. Had Terence been forced by Cynthia or others to address his past trauma and grief, this entire tragedy could have easily been avoided. This is most poignant in the concluding pages where Terence relives some of his childhood neglect and finally acknowledges the latent “evil” within him and questions whether these thoughts were a recent development or a flaw that was always a part of him. The intense immediate judgment and unfair prejudice he has against some characters are only further insight into his mental instability and his unconscious choice to see the worst possible scenario in every situation.
Unless you find joy in other peoples’ misery (admittingly me at times, oops), none of the above content would be remotely tolerable or worth reading if not for Haig’s impeccable writing. You know the situation can only end badly but it’s the experience and details along the way that make the descent into madness worthwhile. Terence’s characterization and decision making, despite being heavily flawed and crazy, is so well done and rationalized in the most twisted manner. While incapable of following or reading social cues (I considered this might’ve alluded to Haig’s own experiences of being diagnosed on the spectrum but removed this part of the review for its lack of relevance to the story), his actions and choices make perfect logical sense in his mind. His decisions always manage to make the worst decision from the reader's perspective, but the way Haig humanizes and twists Terence’s well-meaning intentions into something unrecognizable is impeccable. While I’ve taken issue with the pacing in some of Haig’s more recent novels, this one is one of the most consistent, aided by its relatively short length and intensity.
Despite the dark content that feels worlds away from The Midnight Library, The Humans or How to Stop Time, Haig’s style is still recognizable here. Perhaps freed thanks to the narrator’s unhinged psyche, all of Haig’s strengths are on full display. The meandering yet thought-provoking self-reflections, the internalized guilt, questioning life, it’s all here in The Possession of Mr. Cave. The dark premise allows Haig to dig deep into the worst parts of human behavior without any of the quirks or fantasy elements to dull the impact or to require a “happy ending.” To be sure, the story is not a happy ending and is a frank tragedy to all involved. I had written in my notes that reading this novel felt like a modern Shakespearean tragedy in which good intentions go so bad, which is completely and accidentally on the nose considering Haig’s first two novels The Last Family in England and Dead Fathers Club are based on Shakespearean plays (I was going to say tragedies specifically, though Henry IV, Part 1 isn’t technically a tragedy). Everything that can go wrong goes wrong, and that makes a fascinating read. While I can’t imagine anyone possibly giving The Possession of Mr. Cave a 5-star rating for pure enjoyability, it certainly deserves high marks for its objective strengths and excellent writing (4.5 rating from me overall).
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child abuse, Cursing, Death, Mental illness, Toxic relationship, Schizophrenia/Psychosis
Moderate: Child death, Mental illness, Panic attacks/disorders, Grief
Minor: Cursing
The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Yoko Ogawa’s The Memory Police is a poignant and thought-provoking exploration of loss masquerading under a dystopian premise. With the concept of an unexplained totalitarian regime and the premise of police taking objects and people at random intervals, many would expect this novel to be a psychological thriller or mystery. That is not the case at all as Ogawa merely uses the plot elements as framework to discuss and reflect on how people process loss and memories over time in an abstract manner. While subjectively The Memory Police wasn’t quite for me, I still appreciated the beautiful prose and can easily see why this book is critically well respected and worthy of literary analysis.
Despite having some similarities initially to other established dystopian works (a lot of people compare it to 1984), at its core I would not consider The Memory Police to technically be a dystopian novel. While there is a plot to the book, it’s quite abstract and not the focus. The female narrator is a writer who enlists the help of an elderly unnamed old man to hide away her editor referred to as “R” from the Memory Police who mandate things and memories associated with them to disappear. Despite early indications and expectations that this setup would lead to some sort of confrontation with the Memory Police, the plot doesn’t go in that direction and instead focuses on the gradual differences between R and the narrator’s lives as more things are taken away from her. There's no explanation to the island, societal system, Memory Police, or any speculative fiction elements included which is a disappointment.
In what seems to be a trend for many Japanese novels, the book’s ending is open-ended and is likely the sticking point for why many Western readers find The Memory Police underwhelming (to a certain extent myself included). Ultimately there is no explanation for how or why The Memory Police do what they do and what starts off as being a generally grounded story (you need to suspend your disbelief that these Police can just make everything disappear overnight like birds), it veers heavily into the speculative fiction territory in its last few chapters. While I also wouldn't consider them to be plot holes per say, there are some considerations that don’t quite make sense on subsequent readthroughs. Why does the narrator attempt to hide R before he is even on The Memory Police’s radar and no one except the narrator knows he can remember things that disappeared? How does R just abandon his pregnant wife and child? As the narrator and R’s relationship becomes more complex months into his hiding, some of their actions feel a bit suspect and in questionable taste (yes, I’m purposely avoiding spoilers). The last few disappearances also require an absurd amount of suspension of disbelief, which again has its literary purposes but can be the last straw for a lot of readers used to plot or character-focused narratives. I was very invested in the book up to this point but once I got an idea of where this book was heading, I had to taper my expectations to avoid being disappointed. While I do not generally like this style of writing nor the lead-up to the conclusion, I did quite like the Ogawa’s closing sentiments.
While the plot leaves something to be desired outside of literary critical analysis, Ogawa’s (and by extension, her long-time translator Snyder) prose and writing itself is beautiful. While there isn’t much actual action or movement in the book’s narrative, one of the highlights for me was her portrayal of the passage of time. While there’s occasional mentions of weeks, months, and seasons in places, the vague sense of time and placement works perfectly for the kind of story The Memory Police is trying to tell. While not inherently sad or upsetting, the quiet and subdued tone matches the wistful, thought-provoking discussions between the narrator and R so well. I also greatly appreciated Ogawa’s focus on details that affect the narrator’s view of the world around her compared to another trend of many Japanese authors I’ve noticed that drown the story in unnecessary mundane details that have little impact on the story (Haruki Murakami being the most notable example). Details covering the ever-changing island, the movement and talk of its residents, what its three main characters say (or purposely leave unsaid), it’s all intentional and well-placed.
What I believe is most important to whether one should choose to read The Memory Police comes down to whether the discussion of memories, loss, and how life goes on is worth exploring. The narrator is a living metaphor representing the question, if someone forgets or loses a memory about someone or something, did it really even never existed in the first place? Despite R’s best attempts at sharing his memories and experiences he retains with the narrator and the old man, they simply do not inspire the same feelings and nostalgia. A great thematic example is with people that have dementia (one of my family members). Once a memory is forgotten, it’s as if it never existed in the first place and despite other people reminding them of the moment, they will never be able to experience the same emotions or understanding exactly as if it was taken from them by the Memory Police. And if people lose their memories, experiences and feelings, what is left afterwards? For the person who has things taken away from them, unawareness can be bliss, but the same cannot be said for others around them; perfectly demonstrated by the narrator and R respectively at the book's conclusion. That being said, like many other Japanese novels, The Memory Police inspires discussion and exploration of these thematic concepts but doesn’t make any attempt to answer the questions it poses the reader (again, another gripe I have with Japanese novels)
Ultimately The Memory Police was not for me subjectively, but oddly enough, as I was writing this review and collecting my thoughts, the literary brilliance started to make sense to me and I had a new-found appreciation for the material. The fact that this book was also originally published in Japan back in 1994 only to be translated and released in English in 2019 while still feeling entirely relevant just goes to show how well it has aged. Its vague and timeless setting actually makes it surprisingly future-proof; the only real indication of its early 90’s conception is the heavy use of typewriters which could also be written off as a historical fictional choice. This is the kind of book where a simple star rating does not paint the whole picture (especially with Goodreads' lack of a half point system) where separate subjective and objective ratings should be considered. I would rate this around a 4 to 4.5 from a critical reading standpoint, although my rating is lowered when my personal enjoyment and preferences are taken into account. I keep trying to read more Japanese translated novels in the hope that I’ll find one I’ll like, but I think the style and cultural differences are just not meant to be. But at the end of the day, I can still appreciate The Memory Police for its reflections on loss and Ogawa’s writing style is much more to my liking than other Japanese writers I’ve read (and that is perhaps the biggest win for me).
Despite having some similarities initially to other established dystopian works (a lot of people compare it to 1984), at its core I would not consider The Memory Police to technically be a dystopian novel. While there is a plot to the book, it’s quite abstract and not the focus. The female narrator is a writer who enlists the help of an elderly unnamed old man to hide away her editor referred to as “R” from the Memory Police who mandate things and memories associated with them to disappear. Despite early indications and expectations that this setup would lead to some sort of confrontation with the Memory Police, the plot doesn’t go in that direction and instead focuses on the gradual differences between R and the narrator’s lives as more things are taken away from her. There's no explanation to the island, societal system, Memory Police, or any speculative fiction elements included which is a disappointment.
In what seems to be a trend for many Japanese novels, the book’s ending is open-ended and is likely the sticking point for why many Western readers find The Memory Police underwhelming (to a certain extent myself included). Ultimately there is no explanation for how or why The Memory Police do what they do and what starts off as being a generally grounded story (you need to suspend your disbelief that these Police can just make everything disappear overnight like birds), it veers heavily into the speculative fiction territory in its last few chapters. While I also wouldn't consider them to be plot holes per say, there are some considerations that don’t quite make sense on subsequent readthroughs. Why does the narrator attempt to hide R before he is even on The Memory Police’s radar and no one except the narrator knows he can remember things that disappeared? How does R just abandon his pregnant wife and child? As the narrator and R’s relationship becomes more complex months into his hiding, some of their actions feel a bit suspect and in questionable taste (yes, I’m purposely avoiding spoilers). The last few disappearances also require an absurd amount of suspension of disbelief, which again has its literary purposes but can be the last straw for a lot of readers used to plot or character-focused narratives. I was very invested in the book up to this point but once I got an idea of where this book was heading, I had to taper my expectations to avoid being disappointed. While I do not generally like this style of writing nor the lead-up to the conclusion, I did quite like the Ogawa’s closing sentiments.
While the plot leaves something to be desired outside of literary critical analysis, Ogawa’s (and by extension, her long-time translator Snyder) prose and writing itself is beautiful. While there isn’t much actual action or movement in the book’s narrative, one of the highlights for me was her portrayal of the passage of time. While there’s occasional mentions of weeks, months, and seasons in places, the vague sense of time and placement works perfectly for the kind of story The Memory Police is trying to tell. While not inherently sad or upsetting, the quiet and subdued tone matches the wistful, thought-provoking discussions between the narrator and R so well. I also greatly appreciated Ogawa’s focus on details that affect the narrator’s view of the world around her compared to another trend of many Japanese authors I’ve noticed that drown the story in unnecessary mundane details that have little impact on the story (Haruki Murakami being the most notable example). Details covering the ever-changing island, the movement and talk of its residents, what its three main characters say (or purposely leave unsaid), it’s all intentional and well-placed.
What I believe is most important to whether one should choose to read The Memory Police comes down to whether the discussion of memories, loss, and how life goes on is worth exploring. The narrator is a living metaphor representing the question, if someone forgets or loses a memory about someone or something, did it really even never existed in the first place? Despite R’s best attempts at sharing his memories and experiences he retains with the narrator and the old man, they simply do not inspire the same feelings and nostalgia. A great thematic example is with people that have dementia (one of my family members). Once a memory is forgotten, it’s as if it never existed in the first place and despite other people reminding them of the moment, they will never be able to experience the same emotions or understanding exactly as if it was taken from them by the Memory Police. And if people lose their memories, experiences and feelings, what is left afterwards? For the person who has things taken away from them, unawareness can be bliss, but the same cannot be said for others around them; perfectly demonstrated by the narrator and R respectively at the book's conclusion. That being said, like many other Japanese novels, The Memory Police inspires discussion and exploration of these thematic concepts but doesn’t make any attempt to answer the questions it poses the reader (again, another gripe I have with Japanese novels)
Ultimately The Memory Police was not for me subjectively, but oddly enough, as I was writing this review and collecting my thoughts, the literary brilliance started to make sense to me and I had a new-found appreciation for the material. The fact that this book was also originally published in Japan back in 1994 only to be translated and released in English in 2019 while still feeling entirely relevant just goes to show how well it has aged. Its vague and timeless setting actually makes it surprisingly future-proof; the only real indication of its early 90’s conception is the heavy use of typewriters which could also be written off as a historical fictional choice. This is the kind of book where a simple star rating does not paint the whole picture (especially with Goodreads' lack of a half point system) where separate subjective and objective ratings should be considered. I would rate this around a 4 to 4.5 from a critical reading standpoint, although my rating is lowered when my personal enjoyment and preferences are taken into account. I keep trying to read more Japanese translated novels in the hope that I’ll find one I’ll like, but I think the style and cultural differences are just not meant to be. But at the end of the day, I can still appreciate The Memory Police for its reflections on loss and Ogawa’s writing style is much more to my liking than other Japanese writers I’ve read (and that is perhaps the biggest win for me).
Content Warnings
Moderate: Confinement, Death, Emotional abuse
Minor: Body horror, Forced institutionalization, Police brutality, Alcohol
The Excitements by CJ Wray
lighthearted
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
1.0
CJ Wray’s (pseudonym for Christine Manby) The Excitements is a textbook case of a publishing firm doing a fantastic job of marketing and writing a synopsis for a book that is considerably more interesting than the actual book itself. The Excitements has a lot of different elements that feels like they’re going in all different directions with little thematic cohesion or planning. Worse, the actual story is bland, consistently underwhelming (when it’s not being comically unrealistic), and overall poorly crafted. I don’t remember how this ended up on my to-read list (perhaps because it features senior female characters, an accidental trend I’ve been on this year), but I certainly am questioning my past choices and do not recommend this one at all, even if you like cozy historical fiction books.
Perhaps it partly on my end for reading too far into the synopsis, but I truly feel like I was betrayed by The Excitement’s marketing that summarizes “Scandal and crime… veterans intend to settle scores, avenge lost friends, and pull off one last daring heist before the curtain finally comes down on their illustrious careers”. To be frank, the “scandals” and “crimes” are used very loosely here, with the scandal involving a (very light) romance and at least in the USA, a minor felony at best (really just shoplifting). An obvious exaggeration, settling scores and avenging lost friends also is a stretch and illustrious careers feels like a purposeful misdirection. When I read that kind of summary, I was expecting some type of spy or covert operative movements for both sisters or some kind of senior citizen comical adventure romp. In reality, there are only light elements of that in one sister and not the other, and the story could’ve almost entirely worked if it had only focused on Aunty Penny considering Aunt Josephine had such little relevance to the story.
Marketing aside, my biggest issue with The Excitements is its plot and approach at throwing a dozen random plot threads at the wall to see what sticks. Part historical fiction, the first third of the novel mainly focuses on Penny and Josephine’s experiences during WWII via the British Women’s Royal Navy Service (WRNS) and First Aid Nursing Yeomanry (FANY), historical elements I was not previously familiar with as an American. Despite being merely surface level in detail and narrative experiences, this section is the strongest and most cohesive section of the book that feels the best researched and inspired. The sisters' upbringing and extended stay in France provides an important framework for their French mannerisms and patriotism in WWII and is clearly the inspiration for the novel as confirmed by Wray’s acknowledgements section. The problem is that the historical fiction elements stop there once WWII ends and the book loses its direction.
Beyond the two sisters' contributions via WRNS and FANY, one sister joins an undercover operative operation while the other basically disappears from the story completely for decades. There’s also plot elements involving this training that ultimately doesn’t go anywhere, the “crimes” that are essentially just misdemeanors, some discoveries that imply certain characters sacrificed others in the past, etc. While this doesn’t necessarily sound too bad on paper, actually reading these events left me completely baffled and amused. The story quite literally feels like Wray is making things up as she goes along with non-existent foreshadowing, no setup, and herky jerky jumps as these past events are told out of chronological order and not even thematically coupled. I fail to see how any of Penny’s post-WWII crimes has anything to do with her stint in WRNS and the event inspiring her supposed “revenge” doesn’t even happen until two thirds into the book. Meanwhile Josephine’s story consists of a very brief romance (in terms of actual pages devoted to it), absence of notable activity for years while her sister is actively doing supposed crime and military things, only for her resolution to pop-up in a random chapter near the very end of the book in the middle of a peak hostage situation, having absolutely no relevance to the situation and derailing what little momentum the book had going (I guess it’s a life flashing before your eyes moment?).
Worse off, the entire read is quite boring and uneventful largely due to the absence of a notable conflict or mystery. The story is told via 3rd person omniscient in the present day as Archie is preparing to escort his two grand aunts to an honorary ceremony in France for their War contributions. The present day events mostly feel like the characters are wandering around killing time with nothing of real value, neither building interest in the story nor providing comic relief. The “heist” isn’t introduced as a concept until over half-way through the book, at which point I imagine many readers already DNF-ed based on the reception of other reviews. There’s a bit of a mystery involving Penny’s interest in an emerald ring, its background, and its appearance at a fundraising gala occurring the same day as the sisters award ceremony, but again this has almost nothing to do with any of the historical WWII elements at all (where the ring came from is the sole connection). I hesitate to even call it a last heist considering Archie and Aunt Josephine have no idea about it at all and the entire story arc gets even more laughable once a random gunman decides to hijack the event. You would think the book would tie this gunman’s hijacking either back to the emerald ring, the invasion of the WWII Nazis, WRNS/FANY, something the book introduced previously. No, the gunman instead threatens to shoot people at random in return for the release of political prisoners that has absolutely nothing to do with WWII since this is in the present day. He is also exacting revenge on a named attendee at the fundraising event who got rich at the expense of his country/land and people. Do we know what country/land or people these are? No. Do we know how this guy who we’re introduced to in a single page earlier in the evening got rich? No. Baffled yet, I sure was. I assume this entire sequence was introduced in order to give the two sisters an opportunity to save the day but its execution is so random and out of place, it’s actually quite unintentionally funny. There are so many redirections, plot surprises or misdirections that come off as something Wray came up with on the spot, the whole reading experience is hilariously nonsensical (note, this is not an absurdist or satirical piece purposefully doing that).
I’m the type of reader who immerses myself in the story but the closer I read, I noticed more and more plot holes and the read went from boring and inoffensive, to mediocre and puzzling fast. Aunty Penny steals a crystal elephant from a jewelry store at the beginning of the story as “practice” for her later planned heist despite not knowing she was even going to Paris in the first place (she learns about the trip later that day and even then is against going to Paris despite preparing anyway?). Penny becomes a pro at self-defense and outshines all the other recruits in section F after only reading a self-help self-defense book as a teenager? A gunman is taken down by simply being hit by a metal matchbox, how exactly is that a weapon? Penny confuses the pain of a heart attack with the discomfort of something being stuck in her throat when she puts it there herself? Archie tries to flex his biceps to one-up Malcolm despite it being a formal event with men wearing suits that wouldn’t show muscles anyway? Josephine is also 98 while Penny is 97 yet they can walk without assistance, travel, and even attempt to make a getaway at their age? I have grandparents that are in their mid/early 90’s and from my experiences working with the elderly for my day job, that just isn’t believable at all no matter how spry they are. It really didn’t take long for the book to go from boring to bizarre to sheer comedy for all the wrong reasons. I started to enjoy the book as soon as I stopped taking it seriously and tried to predict what ridiculous random plot element it was going to throw in next.
What makes the entire reading experience worse is how bland the characterization is for all the characters; good characters definitely could’ve half salvaged this book. The sisters’ grand nephew Archie has paper thin characterization except for the fact that he’s gay (which also has nothing to do with anything except for his old crush on Stephane, the host of the Parisian fundraiser). Side characters that pop-up throughout the two sisters’ lives also quite literally pop-up with little introduction, only to be killed off or to betray another character pages later with the sisters reacting dramatically. It’s a recurring trend that the book makes a great deal of effort to say how overwhelmed the sisters are, but the emotional reaction is entirely unearned and not setup. Each side character is also given such little time or introduction, half the time I struggled to remember what each character was notable for when they popped up again later in the story (again, made worse by the events being relived out of order). The present day events also have two additional seniors Davina Mackenzie and Sister Eugina who are also being honored at the event in Paris. I could not figure what role they were supposed to serve as they did not provide comedic relief, they did not add depth to either sister’s backstory, they certainly had nothing to do with any of the “crimes” or “scandals”, and their only contribution was reading morse code on a tv news broadcast of the gunman hijacking the fundraiser. As the book moves to its conclusion and epilogue, characters do 180 personality changes to secure a happily ever after with no character development to warrant the changes. Davina Mackenzie suddenly isn’t full of herself, Archie’s past flame Stephane suddenly rejects his fiancé over the course of a few hours (I know some of the queer community can move fast but that’s quite extreme), a soldier named Jerome who constantly undermines Penny suddenly has a moment of enlightening and respects her on the last day of training, and the sisters have such close camaraderie despite not being honest with each other for decades.
On top of poor characterization, the dialogue varies from passable to laughably awkward at times. A hallmark choice quote:
<blockquote>(Gunman speaking during the takeover) “No. No, not you. I will spare this… invertebrate. But I want his replacement to send a proper message about strength and bravery. So, worm, you can join the rest of the audience…” <i>Is this supposed to be threatening or dramatic? What is this even?</i></blockquote>
While Penny and Josephine’s dialogue is generally decent, as a man also in his 30’s Archie’s dialogue is completely unnatural for a man his age (regardless of his sexuality I should add) and in general, male characters across the board sound off in mannerisms. Both sisters also end many of their sentences with basic French terms and slangs and while this may just be me being an American reader, I personally found the way the French phrases were included to be quite cringy and a caricature instead of feeling authentic. However, my criticisms of the dialogue obviously only apply to when characters actually talk, which is quite little. A good portion of the book’s writing is just “she did this, she did that, she thought this, she thought that, she felt this” with very little introspection or dialogue between characters.
All in all this was a baffling read and an overall poorly executed book. There were some great ideas and concepts individually but the effort to connect them (if at all) was poor and needed better transitions. I don’t know what I was hoping for with this book but I certainly didn’t get it as this not funny (at least intentionally anyway), the light romance and character drama did not have proper setup, the present day senior citizen moments were not particularly charming, this was just a slow mess of loose topics knotted together that really needed extensive editing to be presentable. At least it was relatively short and quick to read, but if that’s the best thing a book has going for it, I might as well read a novella that doesn’t get lost in its own story right out of the gate. I guess it would make a passable coffee table décor book with its nice cover and casual tone; a cover that also features both women in elegant flowing gowns that both would never be caught dead in (the William Morrow cover for the English releases, the Dutch cover is far more appropriate).
Perhaps it partly on my end for reading too far into the synopsis, but I truly feel like I was betrayed by The Excitement’s marketing that summarizes “Scandal and crime… veterans intend to settle scores, avenge lost friends, and pull off one last daring heist before the curtain finally comes down on their illustrious careers”. To be frank, the “scandals” and “crimes” are used very loosely here, with the scandal involving a (very light) romance and at least in the USA, a minor felony at best (really just shoplifting). An obvious exaggeration, settling scores and avenging lost friends also is a stretch and illustrious careers feels like a purposeful misdirection. When I read that kind of summary, I was expecting some type of spy or covert operative movements for both sisters or some kind of senior citizen comical adventure romp. In reality, there are only light elements of that in one sister and not the other, and the story could’ve almost entirely worked if it had only focused on Aunty Penny considering Aunt Josephine had such little relevance to the story.
Marketing aside, my biggest issue with The Excitements is its plot and approach at throwing a dozen random plot threads at the wall to see what sticks. Part historical fiction, the first third of the novel mainly focuses on Penny and Josephine’s experiences during WWII via the British Women’s Royal Navy Service (WRNS) and First Aid Nursing Yeomanry (FANY), historical elements I was not previously familiar with as an American. Despite being merely surface level in detail and narrative experiences, this section is the strongest and most cohesive section of the book that feels the best researched and inspired. The sisters' upbringing and extended stay in France provides an important framework for their French mannerisms and patriotism in WWII and is clearly the inspiration for the novel as confirmed by Wray’s acknowledgements section. The problem is that the historical fiction elements stop there once WWII ends and the book loses its direction.
Beyond the two sisters' contributions via WRNS and FANY, one sister joins an undercover operative operation while the other basically disappears from the story completely for decades. There’s also plot elements involving this training that ultimately doesn’t go anywhere, the “crimes” that are essentially just misdemeanors, some discoveries that imply certain characters sacrificed others in the past, etc. While this doesn’t necessarily sound too bad on paper, actually reading these events left me completely baffled and amused. The story quite literally feels like Wray is making things up as she goes along with non-existent foreshadowing, no setup, and herky jerky jumps as these past events are told out of chronological order and not even thematically coupled. I fail to see how any of Penny’s post-WWII crimes has anything to do with her stint in WRNS and the event inspiring her supposed “revenge” doesn’t even happen until two thirds into the book. Meanwhile Josephine’s story consists of a very brief romance (in terms of actual pages devoted to it), absence of notable activity for years while her sister is actively doing supposed crime and military things, only for her resolution to pop-up in a random chapter near the very end of the book in the middle of a peak hostage situation, having absolutely no relevance to the situation and derailing what little momentum the book had going (I guess it’s a life flashing before your eyes moment?).
Worse off, the entire read is quite boring and uneventful largely due to the absence of a notable conflict or mystery. The story is told via 3rd person omniscient in the present day as Archie is preparing to escort his two grand aunts to an honorary ceremony in France for their War contributions. The present day events mostly feel like the characters are wandering around killing time with nothing of real value, neither building interest in the story nor providing comic relief. The “heist” isn’t introduced as a concept until over half-way through the book, at which point I imagine many readers already DNF-ed based on the reception of other reviews. There’s a bit of a mystery involving Penny’s interest in an emerald ring, its background, and its appearance at a fundraising gala occurring the same day as the sisters award ceremony, but again this has almost nothing to do with any of the historical WWII elements at all (where the ring came from is the sole connection). I hesitate to even call it a last heist considering Archie and Aunt Josephine have no idea about it at all and the entire story arc gets even more laughable once a random gunman decides to hijack the event. You would think the book would tie this gunman’s hijacking either back to the emerald ring, the invasion of the WWII Nazis, WRNS/FANY, something the book introduced previously. No, the gunman instead threatens to shoot people at random in return for the release of political prisoners that has absolutely nothing to do with WWII since this is in the present day. He is also exacting revenge on a named attendee at the fundraising event who got rich at the expense of his country/land and people. Do we know what country/land or people these are? No. Do we know how this guy who we’re introduced to in a single page earlier in the evening got rich? No. Baffled yet, I sure was. I assume this entire sequence was introduced in order to give the two sisters an opportunity to save the day but its execution is so random and out of place, it’s actually quite unintentionally funny. There are so many redirections, plot surprises or misdirections that come off as something Wray came up with on the spot, the whole reading experience is hilariously nonsensical (note, this is not an absurdist or satirical piece purposefully doing that).
I’m the type of reader who immerses myself in the story but the closer I read, I noticed more and more plot holes and the read went from boring and inoffensive, to mediocre and puzzling fast. Aunty Penny steals a crystal elephant from a jewelry store at the beginning of the story as “practice” for her later planned heist despite not knowing she was even going to Paris in the first place (she learns about the trip later that day and even then is against going to Paris despite preparing anyway?). Penny becomes a pro at self-defense and outshines all the other recruits in section F after only reading a self-help self-defense book as a teenager? A gunman is taken down by simply being hit by a metal matchbox, how exactly is that a weapon? Penny confuses the pain of a heart attack with the discomfort of something being stuck in her throat when she puts it there herself? Archie tries to flex his biceps to one-up Malcolm despite it being a formal event with men wearing suits that wouldn’t show muscles anyway? Josephine is also 98 while Penny is 97 yet they can walk without assistance, travel, and even attempt to make a getaway at their age? I have grandparents that are in their mid/early 90’s and from my experiences working with the elderly for my day job, that just isn’t believable at all no matter how spry they are. It really didn’t take long for the book to go from boring to bizarre to sheer comedy for all the wrong reasons. I started to enjoy the book as soon as I stopped taking it seriously and tried to predict what ridiculous random plot element it was going to throw in next.
What makes the entire reading experience worse is how bland the characterization is for all the characters; good characters definitely could’ve half salvaged this book. The sisters’ grand nephew Archie has paper thin characterization except for the fact that he’s gay (which also has nothing to do with anything except for his old crush on Stephane, the host of the Parisian fundraiser). Side characters that pop-up throughout the two sisters’ lives also quite literally pop-up with little introduction, only to be killed off or to betray another character pages later with the sisters reacting dramatically. It’s a recurring trend that the book makes a great deal of effort to say how overwhelmed the sisters are, but the emotional reaction is entirely unearned and not setup. Each side character is also given such little time or introduction, half the time I struggled to remember what each character was notable for when they popped up again later in the story (again, made worse by the events being relived out of order). The present day events also have two additional seniors Davina Mackenzie and Sister Eugina who are also being honored at the event in Paris. I could not figure what role they were supposed to serve as they did not provide comedic relief, they did not add depth to either sister’s backstory, they certainly had nothing to do with any of the “crimes” or “scandals”, and their only contribution was reading morse code on a tv news broadcast of the gunman hijacking the fundraiser. As the book moves to its conclusion and epilogue, characters do 180 personality changes to secure a happily ever after with no character development to warrant the changes. Davina Mackenzie suddenly isn’t full of herself, Archie’s past flame Stephane suddenly rejects his fiancé over the course of a few hours (I know some of the queer community can move fast but that’s quite extreme), a soldier named Jerome who constantly undermines Penny suddenly has a moment of enlightening and respects her on the last day of training, and the sisters have such close camaraderie despite not being honest with each other for decades.
On top of poor characterization, the dialogue varies from passable to laughably awkward at times. A hallmark choice quote:
<blockquote>(Gunman speaking during the takeover) “No. No, not you. I will spare this… invertebrate. But I want his replacement to send a proper message about strength and bravery. So, worm, you can join the rest of the audience…” <i>Is this supposed to be threatening or dramatic? What is this even?</i></blockquote>
While Penny and Josephine’s dialogue is generally decent, as a man also in his 30’s Archie’s dialogue is completely unnatural for a man his age (regardless of his sexuality I should add) and in general, male characters across the board sound off in mannerisms. Both sisters also end many of their sentences with basic French terms and slangs and while this may just be me being an American reader, I personally found the way the French phrases were included to be quite cringy and a caricature instead of feeling authentic. However, my criticisms of the dialogue obviously only apply to when characters actually talk, which is quite little. A good portion of the book’s writing is just “she did this, she did that, she thought this, she thought that, she felt this” with very little introspection or dialogue between characters.
All in all this was a baffling read and an overall poorly executed book. There were some great ideas and concepts individually but the effort to connect them (if at all) was poor and needed better transitions. I don’t know what I was hoping for with this book but I certainly didn’t get it as this not funny (at least intentionally anyway), the light romance and character drama did not have proper setup, the present day senior citizen moments were not particularly charming, this was just a slow mess of loose topics knotted together that really needed extensive editing to be presentable. At least it was relatively short and quick to read, but if that’s the best thing a book has going for it, I might as well read a novella that doesn’t get lost in its own story right out of the gate. I guess it would make a passable coffee table décor book with its nice cover and casual tone; a cover that also features both women in elegant flowing gowns that both would never be caught dead in (the William Morrow cover for the English releases, the Dutch cover is far more appropriate).
Content Warnings
Graphic: Pregnancy, War
Moderate: Death, Misogyny, Sexual content, Antisemitism, Alcohol
Dark Age by Pierce Brown
adventurous
dark
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
The fifth book in Pierce Brown’s Sci-fi epic, this review assumes you have read the previous four books in the series. Spoilers specific to Dark Age will be hidden with spoiler tags, but any content covered in the previous books will not be hidden. Besides, why in the world would you be reading a review for a book in the middle of a long-running series, go read Red Rising first, it’s really good. Now on to the actual review-
The 2nd book in what’s considered the 2nd phase of Pierce Brown’s series, Dark Age needed to be solid to maintain the series’ momentum. Despite being an overall great book, I found the previous entry Iron Gold to easily be the weakest and most inconsistent book thus far. I acknowledge that a good portion of its length was required to both bridge the big time jump from Morning Star and to introduce what was perceived to be the new set of main characters. While Iron Gold accomplished what it needed to do, the reading experience for me felt disjointed with its jumping between three different plot threads and the overall direction felt lacking. Picking up after a short time jump, Dark Age lived up to its name, feeling like the darkest and most grim novel in the series. Recapturing the ridiculously twisty plotting of the Golden Son and reverting to violence and brutality rarely seen since the harshest parts of Red Rising, I loved it. Dark Age is another book that left me thinking “amazing, how does somebody come up with this stuff!”, with Pierce taking a tiny overlooked detail 0r gap in someone's history and making an amazing revelation out of it. However similar to and more extreme than Red Rising, Dark Age is not for the faint of heart (check for trigger warnings if you’re a sensitive later in this review). But if you can stomach the sheer amount of violence brought on by war, you will be rewarded by yet another stellar outing in this new classic space opera series.
I’m truly convinced that Pierce Brown is a wizard and really did attend Hogwarts before being an author (a reference to his early cheeky author blurb in Red Rising prior to JK Rowling’s fall from grace). Either this guy has a sixth sense or he and his editing team are best in class, I'm constantly amazed by how hyperaware Pierce Brown is with what his readers like and want out of his books. Similar to how Golden Son improved off of Red Rising, Dark Age literally took every single item critiqued in
my review of Iron Gold and chucked it back in my face with the intensity of a pulseFist. Dark Age’s story goes where the reader hopes it won’t and will prey on any attachment you have to your favorite character (within reason, more on that below).
First off, the setup and pacing. I noted that Iron Gold felt fragmented due to the story being split across four different plot threads and focal characters. While some story arcs were certainly more interesting than others, collectively they often would derail the momentum building with each part back to back. While all four parts were within the same “world”, they each featured different characters on different planets and of different affiliations that felt fragmented. To make matters worse, three of the four arcs focused on newly introduced characters which varied in likeability and the only arc featuring Darrow was by far the least substantial and most repetitive from a narrative standpoint. Despite obviously being fan-favorite characters who most readers want to follow post time-jump, Darrow’s arc felt tedious and Mustang/Virginia was barely present at all. While I loved Ephraim’s character and story, I was less interested in Lysander and the Outer Rim the more it progressed and I outright did not like and understand why Lyria’s arc was given so many pages compared to the others. Midway through when Lyria and Ephraim’s stories finally converged, Iron Gold started to find its footing, but it never reached the intensity of past books.
Dark Age rectifies those issues by immediately opening with Darrow’s survival arc on Mercury from the get-go and instead of switching between storylines each chapter, each arc is given its own self-contained part for considerably better flow, only alternating when relevant in the final part. Iron Gold was also lighter in terms of action and fight scenes compared to Dark Age’s copious amounts all in the first quarter of the book. And while Virginia was less present in books two through four, she is front and center here with an entire arc focused on the Sovereign’s role and her strategic planning on Luna. While I found Darrow’s endless skirmishing on Mercury to be slow to read, I found Virginia’s story on Lune to be refreshing and her shrewd plotting similar to Golden Son’s best strategic outplay moments. I really think Virginia is an underrated and fascinating character, and Dark Age gave us by far the biggest glimpse into her head.
The two remaining arcs were those I had me completely invested in, focusing on Ephraim and Lyria. Ephraim’s arc and his abduction of the kids was already one of the highlights of Iron Gold, but Dark Age managed to build on that even further, all while simultaneously giving the reader an introduction to the Obsidian tribe culture and dynamics. That, coupled with Ephraim's banter and heartwarming godfather-like relationship with Pax sealed the deal with being my personal favorite part of the story. While intentional by design, Ephraim and Pax’s relationship served as a perfect foil to what Cassius and Lysander could’ve been if not for Octavia’s influence and Lysander’s gold upbringing. And lastly, Lyria’s arc on Mars following her capture by Victra’s forces was easily the most surprising arc that changed my opinion on the character (helps that a new gimmick makes her less useless). Unlike the other arcs, Lyria and Volga’s arc is non-stop high-stakes fugitives on the run, focusing on a rather unexpected duo that I wouldn't have expected back in Iron Gold. This part was also coupled with Victra’s grand return (Victra was another character completely absent and underused in Iron Gold) and the results were spectacular. Encompassing ruthless oppression, misogynistic wife slavery, forced enlistment, child abuse, it’s impressive how much Pierce was able to cram into this one arc. The back-half of Ephraim’s arc in Olympia and Lyria/Volga/Victra’s arc at the Cimmeria mines are also by far some of the most brutal and heart wrenching moments of the entire series so far.
Related to brutality, another one of my criticisms of Iron Gold was that the ever expanding cast was getting too big and difficult to keep track of. Incorporating every character that didn’t die in the uprising in Morning Star, Iron Gold introduced even more political and social groups than before, each with numerous figures. Each novel included a listing of the notable characters and their affiliations for reference with earlier novels listing maybe 20-30 names at most. Dark Age’s listing had 68 names, and that’s pared down from what easily could’ve been 80. While I initially thought the story and plot was getting out of hand while reading Iron Gold, I’m now convinced this was purposefully setup so Pierce Brown could cut them all down in Dark Age and leave the reader contemplating life. Iron Gold also suffered from having far too many political social groups in play and although Dark Age introduces one more party, it thankfully reduces somesuch as the Red Hands and the shrinking/merge of the Syndicate , making it easier to keep track of all the moving pieces.
Dark Age was absolutely ruthless in terms of violence and death. While I didn’t notice it at the time, in retrospect both Morning Star and Iron Gold were relatively light in terms of character deaths and loss. Ragnar’s death was immense in Morning Star and I can understand why the only other notable “good guy” deaths were Trigg (brief appearance and small role within that novel at the time) and Roque/Thistle (formerly good guys), but when you think about it, few characters actually died in what was one of the biggest political upheavals. Iron Gold was also light with only Wolfgar and Romulus's deaths who were both narratively important characters that didn’t have a lot of actual screen time. However I’m willing to give Iron Gold pass considering it also had Cassius’s “death” which would’ve more than made up the low body count (I would have been very upset had I not been accidentally spoiled that he doesn’t actually die in Iron Gold). Coming off of those two novels, Dark Age truly felt dark as more than 12 “good guys” are killed off.
Again I really think Pierce Brown is a mind-reader as it felt like he knew exactly what he could get away with while still destroying readers’ emotions. Beloved characters or those that had existed in the Red Rising universe longer generally received more elaborate and substantial ends while characters that debuted in Iron Gold and onward were given less impressive deaths. In particular, certain characters that were either generally disliked, forgettable, or had little impact on the story were kicked out of the story unceremoniously, sometimes unintentionally comically (or was it intentional…? You never know with Pierce). A perfect example isSeraphina who I believe wasn't very popular in Iron Gold for her questionable morals and had vague character ambitions. Her death is delivered so amusingly nonchalant like “and then suddenly half her body was gone having been shot through by a random particle gun (though Lysander would later reflect on her demise on several later occasions). I did not like her at all in Iron Gold and literally laughed out loud at the way Pierce wrote her out. While not disliked but certainly less developed than other howlers, Min-Min was another character that was killed towards the end of Dark Age swiftly as an emotional blow to Sevro, C. She was another supporting character added in Iron Gold who never got the same spark or growth compared to Clown or Pebble who were established howlers way back in Red Rising. I also didn’t understand what role or purpose Tongueless was supposed to do in Iron Gold who frankly felt quite random and unnecessary to me. Perhaps Pierce also agreed (or changed his mind about his planned character arc), deciding to kill him immediately at the beginning of the book with little fanfare. And while his character has existed in all the books thus far, Daxo was one that didn’t really feel as developed compared to other Republic Golds and his death made perfect sense for as a character moment for Virginia without excessively traumatizing the reader (maybe).
On the other hand, if there’s a popular or beloved character who needs to die for narrative purposes, Pierce also delivers thoughtfully, all while giving them resolution and a proper sendoff.While being at odds with Darrow and Virginia during all of Iron Gold, Dancer was a crucial mentor in the first trilogy and his resolution and alliance with Virginia prior to his death came full circle. Orion is also given an entire backstory via the book’s prologue that explains her actions and psyche that contributed to her ultimate death. And after portraying her as a lone wolf and hot/cold figure to Darrow, the way Pierce humanized Sefi during Ephraim’s stay in Olympia before her brutal and shocking death was excellent. However, Dark Age is the first book since Red Rising to kill off one of my personal favorite characters that came as close to destroying me as a book can do, which sounds over dramatic since I’m generally not a very emotionally invested reader. I could see Pierce Brown preparing the noose for Ephraim the moment Pax started looking up to him as a mentor and he and Volga had a touching moment where they acknowledged they are truly family in every way except for blood. Still, Ephraim’s death caught me off guard as he was the first main character whose perspective the reader follows to die. Honorable and cheeky to the end, his brutal death in Olympia was shocking but so perfectly pitched and planned that I can’t even be upset at it, especially after his fantastic character growth (one of the series best). As soon as you can see everything starting to work out and fall into place for someone, you know he’s about to chop them to pieces (damn you Pierce for being so good at what you do).
Besides character deaths, Dark Age had some of the most triggering content not seen since Red Rising’s Institution arc. I’ll spoiler tag these as some of them are sure giveaways and spoilers, but I would caution readers that are triggered bychild abuse, infant death (the brutality also shocked me), referenced off-screen rape via plundering, one consensual but brief sex scene with an age gap, traditional forced women gender roles and of course violence, gore, torture, and maiming that’s per the usual for this series.
Despite the dark content and certain elements that I know some sensitive booktoker is going to call out for being misogynistic, Dark Age is not all dark and violence. Despite the dismantling of certain female characters by male oppressors and some forced traditional gender roles, Dark Age still retains the positive liberal and queer representation that this series has become known for. The misogynistic setup and harsh elements are an effective conflict that Lyria, Volga and Victra triumph over in the most intense arc of the book. Despite having a relatively large female cast and the Obsidian tribe being female dominated previously, Dark Age also has the most notable and important female characters of any Red Rising book so far with the trio already mentioned plus Virginia (and they are badass, no damsels in distress here). Unlike past books, Darrow’s strongest battlefield ally is a woman for a change (Thraxa), the biggest perceived threat is another woman (Atlantia), the Republic's two most powerful characters are Virginia and Holiday, I could go on.
Another less obvious theme is that of family and perceived responsibility. Previous books also touched on that (some examples being Virginia vs her father and the Jackal, Victra vs her sister) and Iron Gold set the groundwork for it, but Dark Age really pushes it further. Despite being uninterested and hesitant about war and glory, Pax’s growth and discovering his own kind of strength while slotting into his father’s role (against Darrow’s hopes I might add) was great to see. Lyria becoming something (surpassing my expectations and dislike for her I’ll also add) was also satisfying, there’s nothing I love more than being proven wrong supported by backstory and details! And finally there’s Lysander’s gradual descent away from being neutral and making a name for himself.
The only slightly negative comments I had with Dark Age was that despite likely needing to have more Darrow content in the book to satisfy many long-time fans, Darrow’s content and endless combat felt like the weakest material in the book. Darrow’s arc was also paired off with Lysanders which serves as a parallel and opposite perspective on the other side of the battlefield. While I understand their purpose to show Darrow's doom and Lysander’s crucial character shift, the entire Mercury arc as felt like it went on for far too long for too little development. Perhaps that’s purposeful to show that war isn’t always glorious and can be slow and arduous, but the reading experience shouldn't also drag like that. On it’s own the content is far from bad, but it just shows how good the rest of the book was by comparison.
While Darrow’s perspective was generally well done albeit repetitive, Lysander’s perspective felt like it had a lot of good ideas that were either underdeveloped or felt mishandled. Maybe I missed or forgot something in the five months since I read Iron Gold, but I remember Lysander being less focused and really only having the belief that Golds know what’s best and should govern the rest of the colors. I don’t know what it is but something about Lysander’s characterization felt odd from the get-go and while his gradual shift in morality and outlook makes sense given what occurs on Mercury, it still feels a bit conveniently forced and inconsistent (again, that’s a back-handed compliment considering how amazing Pierce usually is at transitions and wildly complex plotting). His backstory and repertoire with Kalindora felt like it was meant to be meaningful, as exhibited during the closing chapters of the book, yet the emotional impact and conflicting feelings Lysander and the reader were meant to experience didn’t feel earned and authentic. I believe Kalindor needed more screen time to leave an impact and to show the reader why she’s called “The Love Knight” (Lysander relationship with Cassius felt more substantial by comparison). And while Lysander’s prospective provides valuable information and insight into the Society’s forces, there were a lot of characters introduced back to back with not enough time devoted to each; specifically Scorpio, Cicero, Rhone who for the life of me I can never remember, Seneca that randomly pops up to be brutal and nothing else. In general, the pacing and focus in Lysander’s arc felt misplaced and further muddied the already weakest arc in the book (it also doesn’t help that I am personally apathetic to what happens to Lysander).
Despite a few negative points, if it wasn’t already obvious from my excessive rambling, I loved Dark Age. Besides it’s excellent strategic plotting and fantastic storylines, Dark Age was also the first book in the series where I noticed Pierce Brown’s improvement as a writer (content aside). While fully functional for an action adventure saga, the level of visual details, particularly grandeur, have really come a long way. Compared to Red Rising’s constant action, later books have equally strong introspection and versatility. I remember commenting while reviewing Red Rising how it felt like Darrow angry, Darrow smash, Darrow will rise and conquer, and not much else. The diversity in character personalities, mannerisms, diverse culture and customs, not to mention now Lysander’s frequent poetic and philosophical quotes, it’s really good stuff. I’m going to need a bit of a break and a lighter read after this to recover before continuing along with Lightbringer, but Dark Age has successfully erased any doubts I had during Iron Gold about the trajectory and quality of this series. It’s easily one of the best action-adventure oriented books I’ve read since getting back into reading.
The 2nd book in what’s considered the 2nd phase of Pierce Brown’s series, Dark Age needed to be solid to maintain the series’ momentum. Despite being an overall great book, I found the previous entry Iron Gold to easily be the weakest and most inconsistent book thus far. I acknowledge that a good portion of its length was required to both bridge the big time jump from Morning Star and to introduce what was perceived to be the new set of main characters. While Iron Gold accomplished what it needed to do, the reading experience for me felt disjointed with its jumping between three different plot threads and the overall direction felt lacking. Picking up after a short time jump, Dark Age lived up to its name, feeling like the darkest and most grim novel in the series. Recapturing the ridiculously twisty plotting of the Golden Son and reverting to violence and brutality rarely seen since the harshest parts of Red Rising, I loved it. Dark Age is another book that left me thinking “amazing, how does somebody come up with this stuff!”, with Pierce taking a tiny overlooked detail 0r gap in someone's history and making an amazing revelation out of it. However similar to and more extreme than Red Rising, Dark Age is not for the faint of heart (check for trigger warnings if you’re a sensitive later in this review). But if you can stomach the sheer amount of violence brought on by war, you will be rewarded by yet another stellar outing in this new classic space opera series.
I’m truly convinced that Pierce Brown is a wizard and really did attend Hogwarts before being an author (a reference to his early cheeky author blurb in Red Rising prior to JK Rowling’s fall from grace). Either this guy has a sixth sense or he and his editing team are best in class, I'm constantly amazed by how hyperaware Pierce Brown is with what his readers like and want out of his books. Similar to how Golden Son improved off of Red Rising, Dark Age literally took every single item critiqued in
my review of Iron Gold and chucked it back in my face with the intensity of a pulseFist. Dark Age’s story goes where the reader hopes it won’t and will prey on any attachment you have to your favorite character (within reason, more on that below).
First off, the setup and pacing. I noted that Iron Gold felt fragmented due to the story being split across four different plot threads and focal characters. While some story arcs were certainly more interesting than others, collectively they often would derail the momentum building with each part back to back. While all four parts were within the same “world”, they each featured different characters on different planets and of different affiliations that felt fragmented. To make matters worse, three of the four arcs focused on newly introduced characters which varied in likeability and the only arc featuring Darrow was by far the least substantial and most repetitive from a narrative standpoint. Despite obviously being fan-favorite characters who most readers want to follow post time-jump, Darrow’s arc felt tedious and Mustang/Virginia was barely present at all. While I loved Ephraim’s character and story, I was less interested in Lysander and the Outer Rim the more it progressed and I outright did not like and understand why Lyria’s arc was given so many pages compared to the others. Midway through when Lyria and Ephraim’s stories finally converged, Iron Gold started to find its footing, but it never reached the intensity of past books.
Dark Age rectifies those issues by immediately opening with Darrow’s survival arc on Mercury from the get-go and instead of switching between storylines each chapter, each arc is given its own self-contained part for considerably better flow, only alternating when relevant in the final part. Iron Gold was also lighter in terms of action and fight scenes compared to Dark Age’s copious amounts all in the first quarter of the book. And while Virginia was less present in books two through four, she is front and center here with an entire arc focused on the Sovereign’s role and her strategic planning on Luna. While I found Darrow’s endless skirmishing on Mercury to be slow to read, I found Virginia’s story on Lune to be refreshing and her shrewd plotting similar to Golden Son’s best strategic outplay moments. I really think Virginia is an underrated and fascinating character, and Dark Age gave us by far the biggest glimpse into her head.
The two remaining arcs were those I had me completely invested in, focusing on Ephraim and Lyria. Ephraim’s arc and his abduction of the kids was already one of the highlights of Iron Gold, but Dark Age managed to build on that even further, all while simultaneously giving the reader an introduction to the Obsidian tribe culture and dynamics. That, coupled with Ephraim's banter and heartwarming godfather-like relationship with Pax sealed the deal with being my personal favorite part of the story. While intentional by design, Ephraim and Pax’s relationship served as a perfect foil to what Cassius and Lysander could’ve been if not for Octavia’s influence and Lysander’s gold upbringing. And lastly, Lyria’s arc on Mars following her capture by Victra’s forces was easily the most surprising arc that changed my opinion on the character (helps that a new gimmick makes her less useless). Unlike the other arcs, Lyria and Volga’s arc is non-stop high-stakes fugitives on the run, focusing on a rather unexpected duo that I wouldn't have expected back in Iron Gold. This part was also coupled with Victra’s grand return (Victra was another character completely absent and underused in Iron Gold) and the results were spectacular. Encompassing ruthless oppression, misogynistic wife slavery, forced enlistment, child abuse, it’s impressive how much Pierce was able to cram into this one arc. The back-half of Ephraim’s arc in Olympia and Lyria/Volga/Victra’s arc at the Cimmeria mines are also by far some of the most brutal and heart wrenching moments of the entire series so far.
Related to brutality, another one of my criticisms of Iron Gold was that the ever expanding cast was getting too big and difficult to keep track of. Incorporating every character that didn’t die in the uprising in Morning Star, Iron Gold introduced even more political and social groups than before, each with numerous figures. Each novel included a listing of the notable characters and their affiliations for reference with earlier novels listing maybe 20-30 names at most. Dark Age’s listing had 68 names, and that’s pared down from what easily could’ve been 80. While I initially thought the story and plot was getting out of hand while reading Iron Gold, I’m now convinced this was purposefully setup so Pierce Brown could cut them all down in Dark Age and leave the reader contemplating life. Iron Gold also suffered from having far too many political social groups in play and although Dark Age introduces one more party, it thankfully reduces some
Dark Age was absolutely ruthless in terms of violence and death. While I didn’t notice it at the time, in retrospect both Morning Star and Iron Gold were relatively light in terms of character deaths and loss. Ragnar’s death was immense in Morning Star and I can understand why the only other notable “good guy” deaths were Trigg (brief appearance and small role within that novel at the time) and Roque/Thistle (formerly good guys), but when you think about it, few characters actually died in what was one of the biggest political upheavals. Iron Gold was also light with only Wolfgar and Romulus's deaths who were both narratively important characters that didn’t have a lot of actual screen time. However I’m willing to give Iron Gold pass considering it also had Cassius’s “death” which would’ve more than made up the low body count (I would have been very upset had I not been accidentally spoiled that he doesn’t actually die in Iron Gold). Coming off of those two novels, Dark Age truly felt dark as more than 12 “good guys” are killed off.
Again I really think Pierce Brown is a mind-reader as it felt like he knew exactly what he could get away with while still destroying readers’ emotions. Beloved characters or those that had existed in the Red Rising universe longer generally received more elaborate and substantial ends while characters that debuted in Iron Gold and onward were given less impressive deaths. In particular, certain characters that were either generally disliked, forgettable, or had little impact on the story were kicked out of the story unceremoniously, sometimes unintentionally comically (or was it intentional…? You never know with Pierce). A perfect example is
On the other hand, if there’s a popular or beloved character who needs to die for narrative purposes, Pierce also delivers thoughtfully, all while giving them resolution and a proper sendoff.
Besides character deaths, Dark Age had some of the most triggering content not seen since Red Rising’s Institution arc. I’ll spoiler tag these as some of them are sure giveaways and spoilers, but I would caution readers that are triggered by
Despite the dark content and certain elements that I know some sensitive booktoker is going to call out for being misogynistic, Dark Age is not all dark and violence. Despite the dismantling of certain female characters by male oppressors and some forced traditional gender roles, Dark Age still retains the positive liberal and queer representation that this series has become known for. The misogynistic setup and harsh elements are an effective conflict that Lyria, Volga and Victra triumph over in the most intense arc of the book. Despite having a relatively large female cast and the Obsidian tribe being female dominated previously, Dark Age also has the most notable and important female characters of any Red Rising book so far with the trio already mentioned plus Virginia (and they are badass, no damsels in distress here). Unlike past books, Darrow’s strongest battlefield ally is a woman for a change (Thraxa), the biggest perceived threat is another woman (Atlantia), the Republic's two most powerful characters are Virginia and Holiday, I could go on.
Another less obvious theme is that of family and perceived responsibility. Previous books also touched on that (some examples being Virginia vs her father and the Jackal, Victra vs her sister) and Iron Gold set the groundwork for it, but Dark Age really pushes it further. Despite being uninterested and hesitant about war and glory, Pax’s growth and discovering his own kind of strength while slotting into his father’s role (against Darrow’s hopes I might add) was great to see. Lyria becoming something (surpassing my expectations and dislike for her I’ll also add) was also satisfying, there’s nothing I love more than being proven wrong supported by backstory and details! And finally there’s Lysander’s gradual descent away from being neutral and making a name for himself.
The only slightly negative comments I had with Dark Age was that despite likely needing to have more Darrow content in the book to satisfy many long-time fans, Darrow’s content and endless combat felt like the weakest material in the book. Darrow’s arc was also paired off with Lysanders which serves as a parallel and opposite perspective on the other side of the battlefield. While I understand their purpose to show Darrow's doom and Lysander’s crucial character shift, the entire Mercury arc as felt like it went on for far too long for too little development. Perhaps that’s purposeful to show that war isn’t always glorious and can be slow and arduous, but the reading experience shouldn't also drag like that. On it’s own the content is far from bad, but it just shows how good the rest of the book was by comparison.
While Darrow’s perspective was generally well done albeit repetitive, Lysander’s perspective felt like it had a lot of good ideas that were either underdeveloped or felt mishandled. Maybe I missed or forgot something in the five months since I read Iron Gold, but I remember Lysander being less focused and really only having the belief that Golds know what’s best and should govern the rest of the colors. I don’t know what it is but something about Lysander’s characterization felt odd from the get-go and while his gradual shift in morality and outlook makes sense given what occurs on Mercury, it still feels a bit conveniently forced and inconsistent (again, that’s a back-handed compliment considering how amazing Pierce usually is at transitions and wildly complex plotting). His backstory and repertoire with Kalindora felt like it was meant to be meaningful, as exhibited during the closing chapters of the book, yet the emotional impact and conflicting feelings Lysander and the reader were meant to experience didn’t feel earned and authentic. I believe Kalindor needed more screen time to leave an impact and to show the reader why she’s called “The Love Knight” (Lysander relationship with Cassius felt more substantial by comparison). And while Lysander’s prospective provides valuable information and insight into the Society’s forces, there were a lot of characters introduced back to back with not enough time devoted to each; specifically Scorpio, Cicero, Rhone who for the life of me I can never remember, Seneca that randomly pops up to be brutal and nothing else. In general, the pacing and focus in Lysander’s arc felt misplaced and further muddied the already weakest arc in the book (it also doesn’t help that I am personally apathetic to what happens to Lysander).
Despite a few negative points, if it wasn’t already obvious from my excessive rambling, I loved Dark Age. Besides it’s excellent strategic plotting and fantastic storylines, Dark Age was also the first book in the series where I noticed Pierce Brown’s improvement as a writer (content aside). While fully functional for an action adventure saga, the level of visual details, particularly grandeur, have really come a long way. Compared to Red Rising’s constant action, later books have equally strong introspection and versatility. I remember commenting while reviewing Red Rising how it felt like Darrow angry, Darrow smash, Darrow will rise and conquer, and not much else. The diversity in character personalities, mannerisms, diverse culture and customs, not to mention now Lysander’s frequent poetic and philosophical quotes, it’s really good stuff. I’m going to need a bit of a break and a lighter read after this to recover before continuing along with Lightbringer, but Dark Age has successfully erased any doubts I had during Iron Gold about the trajectory and quality of this series. It’s easily one of the best action-adventure oriented books I’ve read since getting back into reading.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Child death, Death, Sexual violence, Torture, Violence, Murder, War, Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Animal death, Confinement, Drug use, Emotional abuse, Genocide, Gore, Physical abuse, Rape, Sexual assault, Slavery, Blood, Kidnapping, Grief, Alcohol
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
This one of those rare books that made me think “how does someone come up with this?” The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is a difficult book to describe or categorize due to how many different elements and themes it incorporates, but one thing that is easy to summarize is how ambitious and beautiful V. E. Schwab’s writing is. And by that I don’t mean flowery lyrical language or awe inspiring visuals (which the book does feature at times), but by its poignant pondering and wistfully quiet tone coupled with incredible portrayals of emotions. This is all on top of a wildly creative premise that takes the common plot of an immortal person and devil deal and runs in a completely new direction. I will attempt to review just why I found this book to be brilliant in execution shortly (i personally was in awe of the book despite not necessarily being emotionally attached to it like many other readers were), but know that this is easily one of the most impressive and critically strong books I’ve read since getting back into reading.
I initially had mild reservations about the premise on paper considering it vaguely sounded like some other works I’ve experienced like The Age of Adaline (unfortunate coincidence on the name as both works have very little in common), Matt Haig’s How to Stop Time, and to a lesser extent Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire and ABC’s drama Forever. After watching or reading a few of these works, there’s certain familiar themes or common tropes that had started to become repetitive to me. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue takes the playbook and tosses it into a French Revolution fire. Unlike nearly every other immortal protagonist who attempts to remain unnoticed for fear of inciting panic or gross experimentation, the book's creative twist of nobody remembers Addie felt incredibly refreshing and intriguing to read. The amount of thought and detail is immediately noticeable as Addie struggles with basic things needed to survive such as where to spend the night when nobody can remember lending her a room or clothes. Not being remembered makes it impossible to own property, keep a job, or even explain who you are when your life is invisible to time and essentially doesn’t exist. A lot of reviewers have commented on how deep and emotional it can be, but so many reviews fail to mention the level of detail and considerations V.E. Schwab includes in otherwise ordinarily mundane activities which carried me through the slower parts of the first two sections.
Faustian deals with the devil (referred to by several metaphors in the book) is again not a new concept, but The Invisible Life also made this feel different by the characterization of “Luc” as well as the way the deals work. Specific details, contract terms, and loopholes are a constant theme in the book and I loved the way the deal and Addie’s interactions with Luc were done. Every word choice, cadence, implication, it's all purposeful, precise, and frankly quite similar to how I go about my day and mantra (am I actually Luc in another life? No comment). What starts as a simple plea, deal, and then curse by a devil slowly evolves into a game of chess between Addie and Luc on who will surrender to their deal first that spans over three hundred years as she discovers the limitations and loopholes of her situation. I am a sucker for complex strategic plays and while it’s not the main focus of the book, I loved how it was handled and incorporated.
Now onto the much talked about emotions, what I appreciated about The Invisible Life is that it’s not an inherently sad or depressed book despite its lonesome contents. Despite Addie’s (and to a lesser extent Henry’s) life being filled with hardship, challenges, and loneliness, I never found the book to come off as being melodramatic or tragic. Despite Addie experiencing heavy feelings leading up to her desperation to call Luc followed by her years of solitude, the book's quiet and wistful tone gives the read a sophisticated and mature feel. Obviously intended considering Addie’s age, the 3rd person present tense storytelling feels detached and timeless like an old school fairy tale narrator (I will resist the urge to say more, less I give away spoilers). Despite that, the book’s literary beauty shines in its reflection on Addie and Henry’s emotions. The way the novel is able to capture the feeling of loneliness is amazing and it's a perfect example of “show, don’t tell”, letting the characters actions and reactions speak more about their internal feelings than what is told. Both Addie and Henry are heavily shaped by events leading up to the present and Schwab makes illogical feelings make perfect narrative sense with proper setup. Addie’s slow shift in mindset and her outlook on her endless life over the years is gradual and done so well, culminating in her quiet resolution by the end of the novel. The story has a lot of dramatic moments that could have easily come off as overdramatic or Titanic tragedy sad, but the writing and style exercises a lot of restraint to keep them at a reflective level instead. Almost every negative review I’ve read has commented on the emotional impact being shallow, muted, and detached, but these are actually hallmarks to what makes the book genius and make perfect narrative sense considering the context of the book’s plot (again, spoilers). I could see where the book was going with this plot thread ahead of time, but it worked so well for me and fit the story perfectly. If you want a sob story or over dramatic melodrama, there’s countless romance dramedy genre books you can go pick up instead.
With three hundred years of various settings and characters, the book really only has three main characters and I found all of them to be excellent. All three characters are quite subdued, to the point where I’ve seen other reviews comment on them having poor characterization or lacking of defining character quirks. Honestly these feel like readers that have become accustomed to in your face, unrealistic characters that populate trending books that lack quality and sophistication. In many ways this book feels like it was written in an earlier and more classical time, despite having quite a few modern elements. While not explicitly explored or identified, both Addie and Henry fall somewhere in the bi/pan area and the book has numerous LGBTQ+ references and characters. Addie’s initial plight rebelling against the traditional gender roles and misogynistic views in various eras feel on-brand and relevant in today’s culture. Addie herself is a well-rounded and flawed character that the story heavily hinges on and I found her character to be handled well (I often find these types of characters annoying initially, good job Schwab). Henry is less distinctive and developed compared to Addie, but that’s also by design as Schwab intended for the reader to experience Addie’s life from Henry’s point of view and to see themselves in his narrative. They both act as perfect foils to each other and bond organically over the discovery of their shared loneliness. While Addie’s early conflicts are mostly metaphors by today’s culture and of their time, Henry’s insecurities and demons (ahem) are spot on and areas that a lot of people will find relatable. Then the way the book twists his own wants and pain on himself is poetically cruel and ironic; and I loved it. And finally Luc is a joy for me, and by that I mean he’s morally questionable, witty, and flat-tempered. I wasn’t sure what to think when he was first introduced as an obviously stereotypically dark being, but his interactions and dialogue with Addie was a highlight for me as their relationship evolved, so to did his character.
Admittedly this book’s plot is a bit thin, but the plot is clearly not the focus of the book. The novel is divided into Seven parts, each incorporating a piece of fictional (or not?) art that plays a significant or thematic role in the section. The first part focuses on Addie’s life in the French village of Villon leading up to her Faustian deal. Parts two and three detail her life in Europe adjusting to her new immortality and curse. Part four focuses exclusively on Henry’s perspective and backstory while part five shifts it to Addie’s encounters with Luc. Finally part six and seven focus on the present events in New York, involving all three characters. While Addie experiences events ranging from the expansion of her French hometown, the French Revolution, World Wars, Beethoven, her life through Europe and eventually America is focused on the recurring theme of leaving a legacy or memory, rather than Addie’s actual experiences themselves. A lot of the actual historic plot consists of Addie wandering around aimlessly, drifting from place to place which can sometimes feel like the story is slightly dragging. Meanwhile in the present, there really isn’t a plot as Addie drifts around New York until she encounters Henry in the highlighted bookstore at the very end of part 1 and even then, she and Henry’s storyline doesn’t really take off until partway through part 3.
The book’s chapters generally switch back and forth between the present day in 2014 and the past of wherever Addie’s backstory is at. While there were times that I found the story to be slow (and to be sure, the overall pacing of this book is quite slow and deliberate), the split timeline setup definitely helped keep me invested. I found part 1 to be the slowest for me as I wasn’t too interested in Addie’s mortal life in the French countryside and traditional 18th century gender roles is familiar territory, but her unusual daily life and invisible movements in the present kept me going. While crucial to exploring the limitations to her curse and exploring Addie’s invisible life, parts 2 and 3 also felt repetitive at times with Addie repeatedly getting kicked out of places or her various flings with people that won’t remember her. Despite the interesting incorporation of real historical events and locations into Addie’s story (this book is definitely part historical fiction aside from the magical realism elements), this section started to blend together and lacked direction. Again, that makes narrative sense considering Addie had no direction in life and nowhere to go, but my interest dipped here. I think this had to do with a lack of urgency or clear direction as to where the story was going that made these sections feel longer than they needed to be. As soon as the book shifts to Henry’s perspective in part 4 and a clear conflict with a finite deadline is introduced in part 5, I immediately was invested again and stayed interested until the end. On paper the plot and historical elements sound interesting, but they’re really just thematic framework to shape Addie’s outlook on life to what it is in 2014. And despite the book’s synopsis and her unorthodox life, the real focus of the story is about two lonely people that find solace and something to live for in each other, not on Addie’s 300 year life. Particularly in the back-half of the novel, chapters will jump several years to even decades at a time, instead choosing to focus solely on Addie’s interactions with Luc in the past and her present day interactions with Henry.
Ambitiously crafted, poignantly beautiful, wildly creative, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is the rough equivalent of a critic’s choice type of movie that screams quality and appeals to sophisticated readers. With an underlying element of art, whether it be written works, music, sculptures, paintings, photographs, this is a book meant to appeal to English literature enthusiasts and metaphorical readers. This is an easy recommendation for anyone who is looking for a critically strong read, though readers that prefer casual comedic comfort or plot-oriented epics may find this a struggle to stick with. There were times I wasn’t sure what this was or where it was going (5-stars for quality of the book but my enjoyment wasn’t always that high consistently), but I would suggest being patient and reading to at least part 4 where Henry is the focus and the book picks up urgency. But at that point you’re basically half-way into the book so it would make more sense to finish reading the rest of the book while I sit here having successfully schemed you into my plan all along (Luc would be proud of me). Just kidding, but in all seriousness this was a great read and sets the bar high for anything I’m reading next.
I initially had mild reservations about the premise on paper considering it vaguely sounded like some other works I’ve experienced like The Age of Adaline (unfortunate coincidence on the name as both works have very little in common), Matt Haig’s How to Stop Time, and to a lesser extent Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire and ABC’s drama Forever. After watching or reading a few of these works, there’s certain familiar themes or common tropes that had started to become repetitive to me. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue takes the playbook and tosses it into a French Revolution fire. Unlike nearly every other immortal protagonist who attempts to remain unnoticed for fear of inciting panic or gross experimentation, the book's creative twist of nobody remembers Addie felt incredibly refreshing and intriguing to read. The amount of thought and detail is immediately noticeable as Addie struggles with basic things needed to survive such as where to spend the night when nobody can remember lending her a room or clothes. Not being remembered makes it impossible to own property, keep a job, or even explain who you are when your life is invisible to time and essentially doesn’t exist. A lot of reviewers have commented on how deep and emotional it can be, but so many reviews fail to mention the level of detail and considerations V.E. Schwab includes in otherwise ordinarily mundane activities which carried me through the slower parts of the first two sections.
Faustian deals with the devil (referred to by several metaphors in the book) is again not a new concept, but The Invisible Life also made this feel different by the characterization of “Luc” as well as the way the deals work. Specific details, contract terms, and loopholes are a constant theme in the book and I loved the way the deal and Addie’s interactions with Luc were done. Every word choice, cadence, implication, it's all purposeful, precise, and frankly quite similar to how I go about my day and mantra (am I actually Luc in another life? No comment). What starts as a simple plea, deal, and then curse by a devil slowly evolves into a game of chess between Addie and Luc on who will surrender to their deal first that spans over three hundred years as she discovers the limitations and loopholes of her situation. I am a sucker for complex strategic plays and while it’s not the main focus of the book, I loved how it was handled and incorporated.
Now onto the much talked about emotions, what I appreciated about The Invisible Life is that it’s not an inherently sad or depressed book despite its lonesome contents. Despite Addie’s (and to a lesser extent Henry’s) life being filled with hardship, challenges, and loneliness, I never found the book to come off as being melodramatic or tragic. Despite Addie experiencing heavy feelings leading up to her desperation to call Luc followed by her years of solitude, the book's quiet and wistful tone gives the read a sophisticated and mature feel. Obviously intended considering Addie’s age, the 3rd person present tense storytelling feels detached and timeless like an old school fairy tale narrator (I will resist the urge to say more, less I give away spoilers). Despite that, the book’s literary beauty shines in its reflection on Addie and Henry’s emotions. The way the novel is able to capture the feeling of loneliness is amazing and it's a perfect example of “show, don’t tell”, letting the characters actions and reactions speak more about their internal feelings than what is told. Both Addie and Henry are heavily shaped by events leading up to the present and Schwab makes illogical feelings make perfect narrative sense with proper setup. Addie’s slow shift in mindset and her outlook on her endless life over the years is gradual and done so well, culminating in her quiet resolution by the end of the novel. The story has a lot of dramatic moments that could have easily come off as overdramatic or Titanic tragedy sad, but the writing and style exercises a lot of restraint to keep them at a reflective level instead. Almost every negative review I’ve read has commented on the emotional impact being shallow, muted, and detached, but these are actually hallmarks to what makes the book genius and make perfect narrative sense considering the context of the book’s plot (again, spoilers). I could see where the book was going with this plot thread ahead of time, but it worked so well for me and fit the story perfectly. If you want a sob story or over dramatic melodrama, there’s countless romance dramedy genre books you can go pick up instead.
With three hundred years of various settings and characters, the book really only has three main characters and I found all of them to be excellent. All three characters are quite subdued, to the point where I’ve seen other reviews comment on them having poor characterization or lacking of defining character quirks. Honestly these feel like readers that have become accustomed to in your face, unrealistic characters that populate trending books that lack quality and sophistication. In many ways this book feels like it was written in an earlier and more classical time, despite having quite a few modern elements. While not explicitly explored or identified, both Addie and Henry fall somewhere in the bi/pan area and the book has numerous LGBTQ+ references and characters. Addie’s initial plight rebelling against the traditional gender roles and misogynistic views in various eras feel on-brand and relevant in today’s culture. Addie herself is a well-rounded and flawed character that the story heavily hinges on and I found her character to be handled well (I often find these types of characters annoying initially, good job Schwab). Henry is less distinctive and developed compared to Addie, but that’s also by design as Schwab intended for the reader to experience Addie’s life from Henry’s point of view and to see themselves in his narrative. They both act as perfect foils to each other and bond organically over the discovery of their shared loneliness. While Addie’s early conflicts are mostly metaphors by today’s culture and of their time, Henry’s insecurities and demons (ahem) are spot on and areas that a lot of people will find relatable. Then the way the book twists his own wants and pain on himself is poetically cruel and ironic; and I loved it. And finally Luc is a joy for me, and by that I mean he’s morally questionable, witty, and flat-tempered. I wasn’t sure what to think when he was first introduced as an obviously stereotypically dark being, but his interactions and dialogue with Addie was a highlight for me as their relationship evolved, so to did his character.
Admittedly this book’s plot is a bit thin, but the plot is clearly not the focus of the book. The novel is divided into Seven parts, each incorporating a piece of fictional (or not?) art that plays a significant or thematic role in the section. The first part focuses on Addie’s life in the French village of Villon leading up to her Faustian deal. Parts two and three detail her life in Europe adjusting to her new immortality and curse. Part four focuses exclusively on Henry’s perspective and backstory while part five shifts it to Addie’s encounters with Luc. Finally part six and seven focus on the present events in New York, involving all three characters. While Addie experiences events ranging from the expansion of her French hometown, the French Revolution, World Wars, Beethoven, her life through Europe and eventually America is focused on the recurring theme of leaving a legacy or memory, rather than Addie’s actual experiences themselves. A lot of the actual historic plot consists of Addie wandering around aimlessly, drifting from place to place which can sometimes feel like the story is slightly dragging. Meanwhile in the present, there really isn’t a plot as Addie drifts around New York until she encounters Henry in the highlighted bookstore at the very end of part 1 and even then, she and Henry’s storyline doesn’t really take off until partway through part 3.
The book’s chapters generally switch back and forth between the present day in 2014 and the past of wherever Addie’s backstory is at. While there were times that I found the story to be slow (and to be sure, the overall pacing of this book is quite slow and deliberate), the split timeline setup definitely helped keep me invested. I found part 1 to be the slowest for me as I wasn’t too interested in Addie’s mortal life in the French countryside and traditional 18th century gender roles is familiar territory, but her unusual daily life and invisible movements in the present kept me going. While crucial to exploring the limitations to her curse and exploring Addie’s invisible life, parts 2 and 3 also felt repetitive at times with Addie repeatedly getting kicked out of places or her various flings with people that won’t remember her. Despite the interesting incorporation of real historical events and locations into Addie’s story (this book is definitely part historical fiction aside from the magical realism elements), this section started to blend together and lacked direction. Again, that makes narrative sense considering Addie had no direction in life and nowhere to go, but my interest dipped here. I think this had to do with a lack of urgency or clear direction as to where the story was going that made these sections feel longer than they needed to be. As soon as the book shifts to Henry’s perspective in part 4 and a clear conflict with a finite deadline is introduced in part 5, I immediately was invested again and stayed interested until the end. On paper the plot and historical elements sound interesting, but they’re really just thematic framework to shape Addie’s outlook on life to what it is in 2014. And despite the book’s synopsis and her unorthodox life, the real focus of the story is about two lonely people that find solace and something to live for in each other, not on Addie’s 300 year life. Particularly in the back-half of the novel, chapters will jump several years to even decades at a time, instead choosing to focus solely on Addie’s interactions with Luc in the past and her present day interactions with Henry.
Ambitiously crafted, poignantly beautiful, wildly creative, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is the rough equivalent of a critic’s choice type of movie that screams quality and appeals to sophisticated readers. With an underlying element of art, whether it be written works, music, sculptures, paintings, photographs, this is a book meant to appeal to English literature enthusiasts and metaphorical readers. This is an easy recommendation for anyone who is looking for a critically strong read, though readers that prefer casual comedic comfort or plot-oriented epics may find this a struggle to stick with. There were times I wasn’t sure what this was or where it was going (5-stars for quality of the book but my enjoyment wasn’t always that high consistently), but I would suggest being patient and reading to at least part 4 where Henry is the focus and the book picks up urgency. But at that point you’re basically half-way into the book so it would make more sense to finish reading the rest of the book while I sit here having successfully schemed you into my plan all along (Luc would be proud of me). Just kidding, but in all seriousness this was a great read and sets the bar high for anything I’m reading next.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Body shaming, Cursing, Death, Misogyny, Physical abuse, Sexism, Sexual content, Sexual violence, Terminal illness, Grief, Alcohol, Classism
Minor: Violence, Vomit, Death of parent, Injury/Injury detail
The Love of My Afterlife by Kirsty Greenwood
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Light-hearted, good-natured, and comfortably predictable, Kristy Greenwood’s The Love of My After Life is a perfect example of understanding the assignment and hitting all the bullet points to get the job done, nothing more nothing less. This book is a casual read that’s catered directly to fans of cozy chick lit rom-com novels looking for an easy and pleasant time. Devoid of anything that could be remotely triggering or controversial and full of the genre’s expected hijinks and romance tropes, it’s a competently written book that doesn’t really have any glaring weaknesses. On the flip side, it also takes zero risks and feels complacently good but not great. For me personally though, I found The Love Of My After Life to be a bit underwhelming although I thought its overall tone and plot were great.
I picked this book up purely based on the intriguing premise (before it started trending on booktok I might add) fully knowing it probably wasn’t going to be to my taste, but I was surprised by how pleasant and quick it was to read. Unlike other romance novels with magical realism elements that skirt or cheapen their gimmick, The Love of My After Life sticks pretty close to its premise all the way through (can you tell I’ve been burned too many times this year?). Although it was completely predictable and nothing took me by surprise, I found the plot to be well-crafted and consistently paced. Most of the book revolves around Delphie reacting comically in unfamiliar and adventurous situations, each event contributing towards the ultimate goal of “seeing the magic in the life she’s leaving behind”. I highlighted this part of the synopsis as the majority of the book was focused on Delphie discovering new things about herself and her life, rather than on the character romance specifically. Most of the negative reviews I’ve read criticized the book for being boring, lacking romantic development, or feeling like Delphie was just running around frantically on a wild goose chase. To avoid misplaced expectations, this book is all about Delphie’s journey finding her perceived soulmate and excitement in life, not about her falling in love with her love interest. There is romance and it’s fine (solid with a touch of spice, though again not stellar), but it’s not the main selling point which is instead more of a second-chance at life narrative.
I’ve read similar novels that tackled depressed or socially withdrawn characters whose lives have passed them by, this one is definitely one of the more upbeat ones that doesn’t take it’s mortal situation too seriously. There were some attempts made for deeper themes including a neglected childhood, bullying, not quite depression but anhedonia, and loss, but they ultimately felt surface-level and comforty takes on the subjects. The same could be said about Delphie’s perceived character growth which felt very simplistic and covered well-trodden territory. I constantly felt like the book was trying to be silly and slapstick, purposely avoiding any serious conversations and skimming over anything that might disrupt the casual tone. That casual take also carried over to the story that always felt like regardless of what happened, a perfect happily ever after was always waiting around the corner or at the end of the book. There are a few plot twists and surprises in regards to the deal made to send Delphie back to life, but they were all quite predictable. In fact, I could predict the entire plot of the book from about ¼ of the way in. That’s not necessarily a bad thing depending on the type of read you’re looking for, but don’t expect any deep reflection about life or dramatic romance here (you’ll only get some dramatically silly reactions from Delphie).
Besides having a predictable plot, the recurring theme of being just enough continued with the characters. While I found Delphie to be quite likable as a FMC, I felt like Greenwood was trying hard to make her come off as quirky yet relatable, sometimes successfully, sometimes eye-rollingly cringy. Outside of Delphie however, the supporting characters and love interests felt like cookie-cutter tropes and were all just sort of there to fill necessary spots in the plot. In general, most characters’ personalities and backstories felt thinly constructed and standard expected material for the genre. The best characters were Delphie’s grouchy and snarky neighbor Cooper and the elderly Mr. Yoon who Delphie checks in on twice a day. Despite having some good one-liners and being charming enough, Cooper felt quite similar to just about every other grumpy yet attractive male character in every rom com book I’ve read, plot twist about his career included. The elderly, frail and solitary Mr. Yoon fared better, but I’ve read other books that incorporated and developed this pseudo young/elderly non-familial dynamic to greater success and emotional depth (Gareth Brown’s The Book of Doors immediately comes to mind). Despite loving the comedic banter initially, I also felt like the camaraderie between Delphie and her afterlife therapist Merrit grew repetitive and stale about halfway through the book and really didn’t go anywhere despite the Merrit’s crucial part of the plot.
Like the plot and characters, I found the writing style to be easy and casual to read, but very much average. I’d read quite a few second chances at life stories this year that often had insightful reflective moments that I felt would have benefited this book to take it from good to great. Despite normally loving British humor and writing styles, I found Greenwood’s attempts at comedy to be decent, but ultimately lacking. A lot of the humor relied on zany situations and the common trope of “everything that can go wrong will go wrong”, but the book didn’t have the comedic timing or the edgy snark do much for me. It largely felt like light and silly chuckles, but never laugh out loud funny nor sarcastically/smartly funny.
I struggled with the rating for this one as it’s technically a well-rounded, above average, mainstream appealing book that doesn’t really have any major weaknesses. It’s also a cozy read where you can tell what’s going to happen ahead of time, so there’s no unexpected or unpleasant plot developments that could turn off certain readers; frankly there’s nothing unpleasant in it at all. Yet that’s one of the very things that held me back from enjoying it further. Because the tone is so light-heartedly silly and the plot predictable, for me there was a lack of urgency to the story despite the premise and 10 day limit for Delphie to reconnect with her soulmate love. I think this story would actually lend itself better to a live-action adaptation where its zany scenes might work better, but it was missing some type of excitement in book form. It feels weird to rate it a 3-stars as it’s definitely an above-average book, but rating it 4-stars feels too high for my reading tastes personally (saying it agin, Goodreads needs half star ratings if only they didn’t have to match Amazon’s platform rating system). This is a great recommendation for readers looking for a light rom-com book with an after life twist, but I probably wouldn’t recommend it for non chick lit fans or those looking for a more dramedy genre read.
I picked this book up purely based on the intriguing premise (before it started trending on booktok I might add) fully knowing it probably wasn’t going to be to my taste, but I was surprised by how pleasant and quick it was to read. Unlike other romance novels with magical realism elements that skirt or cheapen their gimmick, The Love of My After Life sticks pretty close to its premise all the way through (can you tell I’ve been burned too many times this year?). Although it was completely predictable and nothing took me by surprise, I found the plot to be well-crafted and consistently paced. Most of the book revolves around Delphie reacting comically in unfamiliar and adventurous situations, each event contributing towards the ultimate goal of “seeing the magic in the life she’s leaving behind”. I highlighted this part of the synopsis as the majority of the book was focused on Delphie discovering new things about herself and her life, rather than on the character romance specifically. Most of the negative reviews I’ve read criticized the book for being boring, lacking romantic development, or feeling like Delphie was just running around frantically on a wild goose chase. To avoid misplaced expectations, this book is all about Delphie’s journey finding her perceived soulmate and excitement in life, not about her falling in love with her love interest. There is romance and it’s fine (solid with a touch of spice, though again not stellar), but it’s not the main selling point which is instead more of a second-chance at life narrative.
I’ve read similar novels that tackled depressed or socially withdrawn characters whose lives have passed them by, this one is definitely one of the more upbeat ones that doesn’t take it’s mortal situation too seriously. There were some attempts made for deeper themes including a neglected childhood, bullying, not quite depression but anhedonia, and loss, but they ultimately felt surface-level and comforty takes on the subjects. The same could be said about Delphie’s perceived character growth which felt very simplistic and covered well-trodden territory. I constantly felt like the book was trying to be silly and slapstick, purposely avoiding any serious conversations and skimming over anything that might disrupt the casual tone. That casual take also carried over to the story that always felt like regardless of what happened, a perfect happily ever after was always waiting around the corner or at the end of the book. There are a few plot twists and surprises in regards to the deal made to send Delphie back to life, but they were all quite predictable. In fact, I could predict the entire plot of the book from about ¼ of the way in. That’s not necessarily a bad thing depending on the type of read you’re looking for, but don’t expect any deep reflection about life or dramatic romance here (you’ll only get some dramatically silly reactions from Delphie).
Besides having a predictable plot, the recurring theme of being just enough continued with the characters. While I found Delphie to be quite likable as a FMC, I felt like Greenwood was trying hard to make her come off as quirky yet relatable, sometimes successfully, sometimes eye-rollingly cringy. Outside of Delphie however, the supporting characters and love interests felt like cookie-cutter tropes and were all just sort of there to fill necessary spots in the plot. In general, most characters’ personalities and backstories felt thinly constructed and standard expected material for the genre. The best characters were Delphie’s grouchy and snarky neighbor Cooper and the elderly Mr. Yoon who Delphie checks in on twice a day. Despite having some good one-liners and being charming enough, Cooper felt quite similar to just about every other grumpy yet attractive male character in every rom com book I’ve read, plot twist about his career included. The elderly, frail and solitary Mr. Yoon fared better, but I’ve read other books that incorporated and developed this pseudo young/elderly non-familial dynamic to greater success and emotional depth (Gareth Brown’s The Book of Doors immediately comes to mind). Despite loving the comedic banter initially, I also felt like the camaraderie between Delphie and her afterlife therapist Merrit grew repetitive and stale about halfway through the book and really didn’t go anywhere despite the Merrit’s crucial part of the plot.
Like the plot and characters, I found the writing style to be easy and casual to read, but very much average. I’d read quite a few second chances at life stories this year that often had insightful reflective moments that I felt would have benefited this book to take it from good to great. Despite normally loving British humor and writing styles, I found Greenwood’s attempts at comedy to be decent, but ultimately lacking. A lot of the humor relied on zany situations and the common trope of “everything that can go wrong will go wrong”, but the book didn’t have the comedic timing or the edgy snark do much for me. It largely felt like light and silly chuckles, but never laugh out loud funny nor sarcastically/smartly funny.
I struggled with the rating for this one as it’s technically a well-rounded, above average, mainstream appealing book that doesn’t really have any major weaknesses. It’s also a cozy read where you can tell what’s going to happen ahead of time, so there’s no unexpected or unpleasant plot developments that could turn off certain readers; frankly there’s nothing unpleasant in it at all. Yet that’s one of the very things that held me back from enjoying it further. Because the tone is so light-heartedly silly and the plot predictable, for me there was a lack of urgency to the story despite the premise and 10 day limit for Delphie to reconnect with her soulmate love. I think this story would actually lend itself better to a live-action adaptation where its zany scenes might work better, but it was missing some type of excitement in book form. It feels weird to rate it a 3-stars as it’s definitely an above-average book, but rating it 4-stars feels too high for my reading tastes personally (saying it agin, Goodreads needs half star ratings if only they didn’t have to match Amazon’s platform rating system). This is a great recommendation for readers looking for a light rom-com book with an after life twist, but I probably wouldn’t recommend it for non chick lit fans or those looking for a more dramedy genre read.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Bullying, Death, Sexual content, Grief
Minor: Alcohol
The Pairing by Casey McQuiston
funny
lighthearted
relaxing
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.0
With beautiful rose-tinted postcard snapshots of various European locals, an endless array of food porn-worthy food and beverages, and two attractive horny bisexual ex’s (technically leaning more towards pansexual but I digress) stuck on a dream vacation itinerary, Casey McQuiston’s The Pairing has a stellar recipe on paper. And if I were to compare this novel to pastry on display, it certainly looks exquisite and intricately decorated in presentation (please bear with me and let me run with this bit). Unfortunately, once you cut the cake and start tasting it, it quickly becomes evident that there was too much literal (Theo) salt in the batter and maybe the cake was a bit burnt in places. My experience with reading The Pairing was similar to this poor hypothetical and metaphorical pastry in that the elements were good but a few crucial elements made this book difficult to enjoy. My biggest gripe was despite McQuiston pushing really hard to sell this as a past ex’s enemies to second chance loves trope, the enemies arc leaves a lot to be desired and the relationship dynamic between Theo and Kit has a dry and acidic aftertaste. I feel like this story would’ve worked considerably better had it been conceptualized as an ex’s friends to second chance lovers trope and the plot didn’t try to push the hot hookup angle so hard (it never really worked for me personally). While there were some wonderful details and some great backstory ingredients in the mixing bowl, their limited use and ratio resulted in them being barely noticeable in the final taste test to a food/reading critic judge and even less appreciated by a general customer. Despite all the great flavor notes that were incorporated in theory, unfortunately no amount of buttercream frosting and decorative details are enough to compensate for the unpleasant, or to me, underwhelming base dessert (a dessert I fully finished eating I might add unlike majority of the top-listed Goodreads reviews that DNF-ed it, you need to finish it in order to review it properly imo).
(Thank you for rolling with my bit, now on to a proper book review)
A lot of other people have already reviewed and noted how insufferable Theo is and how trying it is to get through their half of the book, so I’m not going to beat a dead horse as I share similar sentiments. However, what I will comment on is the relevance of Theo’s mentality and McQuiston’s good execution of it despite how unbearable it is to read about. Theo’s psyche of “this is my comeback and fierce era” is one that’s completely on-brand with a lot of younger millennials/genZ’s and the mentality of being strong and not needing family and partners are verbatim things I’ve heard from friends. Theo’s arc of trying to impress Kit once they run into each other on the makeup tour booking purposely boasting and showing off is a perfectly crafted example of “winning the breakup” younger people are obsessed with, so really Theo’s entire personality and outlook is technically very well done.
Unfortunately where I feel McQuiston went a bit wrong was with the post-breakup dynamic between Theo and Kit and balancing their two personalities with their character flaws. In order for the enemies to lovers trope to work well, I believe that both parties need to show clear inherent flaws to avoid villainizing one of the characters and to encourage the reader to root for their reconciliation. The issue with The Pairing is Theo's perspective is first, and their personality comes in hot with a lot of overblown reactions, lots of immature whining, and some questionably toxic tendencies (all very in-character for the current generation I might add). So much effort is spent stressing how terrible Kit is and how much better Theo has become without really explaining what made Kit so horrible to them, quickly causing Theo to lose credit. When Kit finally makes his first appearance at the food and wine tour, he unquestionably makes a far better and mature first impression which only stresses how crazy Theo is by comparison. The book's enemies arc consistently felt contrived and all of the early conflicts felt obviously manufactured and unbelievable. Despite being portrayed as heartless by Theo, I think most readers still see Kit more favorably in the first half which is a bad sign before the book flips to Kit’s perspective. After experiencing their relationship, breakup, and reunion from Kit’s perspective in the 2nd half of the book, what little flaws Kit had seem even smaller, maybe even justified compared to Theo's. With his biggest flaws including a self-sacrificial tendency and a super hero complex, Theo looks even worse which sharply contrasts Kit’s blind infatuation and devotion to them. This clear disconnect caused me to feel ambivalent about Kit’s perspective (despite being more pleasant to read) which was only exacerbated by side details about art and some of his interests that ultimately felt like unnecessary fluff to pad out his half. His backstory involving his mother’s marriage and her influence on him were great, but they were incorporated so late just before the resolution, it felt like it was too little too late and tonally out of place with the rest of this book's content.
Apart from the clear unbalance between Theo and Kit’s characters, I felt like The Pairing didn’t quite pull off whatever it was trying to do. It wasn’t funny enough to be a dramedy, not ambitious enough to be a good character-driven story, not spicy enough to be romance erotica, it was caught in the middle without doing anything particularly well. With questionable chemistry, the main pairing didn’t interest me at all which leaves little else to read about in this book beyond food porn (and unfortunately I am also not really a foodie). The author’s preface note is “For your pleasure” and compared to McQuiston’s past novels, it’s clear that this one is meant to be a more casual, fun novel with a lot of fancy food/wine and sex rather than a big character narrative. Despite its obviously unhinged tone, I found it slow to read and didn’t find its attempt at humor to be very amusing. I can tell McQustion was trying and I think it might work better for more rom-com/dramedy-focused readers, but it didn’t work for me. There’s only so many jokes you can make about classical art and sculptures being inherently horny before it all starts sounding tired and repetitive. The book is also filled with sexual innuendos that I think were supposed to be hot, but I found them to be eye-rollingly try-hard or worse, completely out of place contextually. And until about half-way through the book, there’s surprisingly very little actual spice. In my opinion, the book failed its own premise of trying to hook up with their tour guide or European locals. Both Theo and Kit make barely any attempt on Fabrizio until the very end (and it really just falls into their laps) and their “game” feels like it kicks in far too late to make sense narratively. The only spice present is inevitably and unfortunately between Theo and Kit (any other pairing is handled off-page only), which are good in isolation, but defeat the book’s own selling point. The dramatic breakup also uses the miscommunication trope (as expected) but the disagreement comes off as silly rather than the world-shattering scope both characters make it out to be. The eventual resolution to the problem can be chalked up to character growth and time but the character growth didn’t feel like it was earned; Theo doing a sudden 180 from the Theo > Kit perspective shift and Kit suddenly experiencing enlightenment in one chapter, the aforementioned Mother backstory that is good on paper, but severely underdeveloped.
I don’t feel like I’m knowledgeable enough to judge the portrayals and accuracy of the various European locales and cultures, but McQuiston’s lively and romantic visuals were one of the highlights to me compared to the questionable plot and character choices. Although it’s advertised as a food and wine tour, Theo and Kit’s vacation is just as much a tourist trip and I liked the descriptions of the non-food items possibly more than the culinary experiences. The food, pastries, wine were also one of the stronger elements of the novel, though I do think that the trip was a bit too long and dragged in places. Apart from the different names and tourist highlights, some of the middle destinations started to blend together for me outside of those associated with Kit or the supporting characters. On the plus side, I do feel like McQuiston’s writing has improved considerably from some of their earlier works. I have yet to read Red, White & Royal Blue, but I found The Pairing’s writing style and inner reflections to be critically stronger and more accomplished compared to earlier works that felt a bit juvenile. Each scene and part felt far more cohesive and realized than what I’ve read in the past, it’s just unfortunate that the subjective content makes this improvement less noticeable. I mainly noticed and critiqued it as I was so disinterested in the main story itself and needed something to focus on.
So like the pastry in the fridge display- just kidding, I’m not going back to the bit. So at the end of the day, this one was unfortunately a swing and a miss for me but not for the reason most other readers disliked this book. Theo tried my patience but I was more than willing to give them a free pass because of how committed and technically well done McQuiston wrote their character. But even overlooking Theo’s character voice, The Pairing wasn’t ever able to ever win my interest and I quickly shifted away from enjoyment reading mode to critical reading mode in order to keep going; and even that is not the most flattering light for The Pairing. Despite the great premise and ingredients in the sauce- I mean the batter, I can really only see readers who empathize with Theo actually enjoying this book. The wandering bisexual eyes, food visuals, and tourist stops are decent but are far from being able to carry the book if you don’t care about the, ahem, Pairing. Although the objective qualities of this book are somewhere around a 3-4 star rating, I cannot in good faith rate it that high based on how disinterested I was reading this subjectively. Unfortunately, this means that I’m now 0/2 with McQuiston’s books which is a sign I should probably stop reading them, though I do still have a purchased ebook of Red, White, & Royal Blue which I’ve heard I might like. Oh well, on to the next one to cleanse my palette- (sorry I don’t know what I’m on, this review is kind of a disaster lol)
(Thank you for rolling with my bit, now on to a proper book review)
A lot of other people have already reviewed and noted how insufferable Theo is and how trying it is to get through their half of the book, so I’m not going to beat a dead horse as I share similar sentiments. However, what I will comment on is the relevance of Theo’s mentality and McQuiston’s good execution of it despite how unbearable it is to read about. Theo’s psyche of “this is my comeback and fierce era” is one that’s completely on-brand with a lot of younger millennials/genZ’s and the mentality of being strong and not needing family and partners are verbatim things I’ve heard from friends. Theo’s arc of trying to impress Kit once they run into each other on the makeup tour booking purposely boasting and showing off is a perfectly crafted example of “winning the breakup” younger people are obsessed with, so really Theo’s entire personality and outlook is technically very well done.
Unfortunately where I feel McQuiston went a bit wrong was with the post-breakup dynamic between Theo and Kit and balancing their two personalities with their character flaws. In order for the enemies to lovers trope to work well, I believe that both parties need to show clear inherent flaws to avoid villainizing one of the characters and to encourage the reader to root for their reconciliation. The issue with The Pairing is Theo's perspective is first, and their personality comes in hot with a lot of overblown reactions, lots of immature whining, and some questionably toxic tendencies (all very in-character for the current generation I might add). So much effort is spent stressing how terrible Kit is and how much better Theo has become without really explaining what made Kit so horrible to them, quickly causing Theo to lose credit. When Kit finally makes his first appearance at the food and wine tour, he unquestionably makes a far better and mature first impression which only stresses how crazy Theo is by comparison. The book's enemies arc consistently felt contrived and all of the early conflicts felt obviously manufactured and unbelievable. Despite being portrayed as heartless by Theo, I think most readers still see Kit more favorably in the first half which is a bad sign before the book flips to Kit’s perspective. After experiencing their relationship, breakup, and reunion from Kit’s perspective in the 2nd half of the book, what little flaws Kit had seem even smaller, maybe even justified compared to Theo's. With his biggest flaws including a self-sacrificial tendency and a super hero complex, Theo looks even worse which sharply contrasts Kit’s blind infatuation and devotion to them. This clear disconnect caused me to feel ambivalent about Kit’s perspective (despite being more pleasant to read) which was only exacerbated by side details about art and some of his interests that ultimately felt like unnecessary fluff to pad out his half. His backstory involving his mother’s marriage and her influence on him were great, but they were incorporated so late just before the resolution, it felt like it was too little too late and tonally out of place with the rest of this book's content.
Apart from the clear unbalance between Theo and Kit’s characters, I felt like The Pairing didn’t quite pull off whatever it was trying to do. It wasn’t funny enough to be a dramedy, not ambitious enough to be a good character-driven story, not spicy enough to be romance erotica, it was caught in the middle without doing anything particularly well. With questionable chemistry, the main pairing didn’t interest me at all which leaves little else to read about in this book beyond food porn (and unfortunately I am also not really a foodie). The author’s preface note is “For your pleasure” and compared to McQuiston’s past novels, it’s clear that this one is meant to be a more casual, fun novel with a lot of fancy food/wine and sex rather than a big character narrative. Despite its obviously unhinged tone, I found it slow to read and didn’t find its attempt at humor to be very amusing. I can tell McQustion was trying and I think it might work better for more rom-com/dramedy-focused readers, but it didn’t work for me. There’s only so many jokes you can make about classical art and sculptures being inherently horny before it all starts sounding tired and repetitive. The book is also filled with sexual innuendos that I think were supposed to be hot, but I found them to be eye-rollingly try-hard or worse, completely out of place contextually. And until about half-way through the book, there’s surprisingly very little actual spice. In my opinion, the book failed its own premise of trying to hook up with their tour guide or European locals. Both Theo and Kit make barely any attempt on Fabrizio until the very end (and it really just falls into their laps) and their “game” feels like it kicks in far too late to make sense narratively. The only spice present is inevitably and unfortunately between Theo and Kit (any other pairing is handled off-page only), which are good in isolation, but defeat the book’s own selling point. The dramatic breakup also uses the miscommunication trope (as expected) but the disagreement comes off as silly rather than the world-shattering scope both characters make it out to be. The eventual resolution to the problem can be chalked up to character growth and time but the character growth didn’t feel like it was earned; Theo doing a sudden 180 from the Theo > Kit perspective shift and Kit suddenly experiencing enlightenment in one chapter, the aforementioned Mother backstory that is good on paper, but severely underdeveloped.
I don’t feel like I’m knowledgeable enough to judge the portrayals and accuracy of the various European locales and cultures, but McQuiston’s lively and romantic visuals were one of the highlights to me compared to the questionable plot and character choices. Although it’s advertised as a food and wine tour, Theo and Kit’s vacation is just as much a tourist trip and I liked the descriptions of the non-food items possibly more than the culinary experiences. The food, pastries, wine were also one of the stronger elements of the novel, though I do think that the trip was a bit too long and dragged in places. Apart from the different names and tourist highlights, some of the middle destinations started to blend together for me outside of those associated with Kit or the supporting characters. On the plus side, I do feel like McQuiston’s writing has improved considerably from some of their earlier works. I have yet to read Red, White & Royal Blue, but I found The Pairing’s writing style and inner reflections to be critically stronger and more accomplished compared to earlier works that felt a bit juvenile. Each scene and part felt far more cohesive and realized than what I’ve read in the past, it’s just unfortunate that the subjective content makes this improvement less noticeable. I mainly noticed and critiqued it as I was so disinterested in the main story itself and needed something to focus on.
So like the pastry in the fridge display- just kidding, I’m not going back to the bit. So at the end of the day, this one was unfortunately a swing and a miss for me but not for the reason most other readers disliked this book. Theo tried my patience but I was more than willing to give them a free pass because of how committed and technically well done McQuiston wrote their character. But even overlooking Theo’s character voice, The Pairing wasn’t ever able to ever win my interest and I quickly shifted away from enjoyment reading mode to critical reading mode in order to keep going; and even that is not the most flattering light for The Pairing. Despite the great premise and ingredients in the sauce- I mean the batter, I can really only see readers who empathize with Theo actually enjoying this book. The wandering bisexual eyes, food visuals, and tourist stops are decent but are far from being able to carry the book if you don’t care about the, ahem, Pairing. Although the objective qualities of this book are somewhere around a 3-4 star rating, I cannot in good faith rate it that high based on how disinterested I was reading this subjectively. Unfortunately, this means that I’m now 0/2 with McQuiston’s books which is a sign I should probably stop reading them, though I do still have a purchased ebook of Red, White, & Royal Blue which I’ve heard I might like. Oh well, on to the next one to cleanse my palette- (sorry I don’t know what I’m on, this review is kind of a disaster lol)
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual content, Alcohol
Moderate: Cursing, Dysphoria
The Life Impossible by Matt Haig
adventurous
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
This is my fourth Matt Haig novel that I’ve read (though I have another three that I already own but keep putting off) and The Life Impossible is both somewhat on-brand for what you would expect yet also quite out there in the back half of the book. If you are a fan of The Midnight Library but have yet to read his other works or are picking this up as your first Matt Haig novel, I would strongly recommend trying out his other books first and coming back to this one later. While The Life Impossible is filled to the brim with introspective reflections and lengthy internal monologues that are to be expected for Haig’s style, I found the fantasy/magical realism plot elements in this one to be quite bizarre, random, and less effectively incorporated into the character work of his previous books. That’s not to say that The Life Impossible isn’t well-written; it's very ambitious and complex. It’s that the presentation and the plot devices are nowhere near as mass appealing or accessible as the Midnight Library and even as a fan of Matt Haig’s books and slower reads, even I had trouble staying invested in this one (I can imagine most first-time fans of the Midnight Library actually outright hating this book). Unlike the Midnight Library, The Life Impossible does not have a whimsical escapist feel at all. Truth be told, I actually consider The Midnight Library to be an outlier in Haig’s library that coincidentally had just the right combo to make it a mass-seller. The speculative fiction/science fiction elements were also quite out there and synopsis feels like a pitch in the wrong direction based on the book’s actual content.
I was intrigued to read this book largely due to it featuring an older, withdrawn female character and the core mystery to her past colleague’s disappearance. Haig has weathered protagonists before, namely Tom Hazard in How to Stop Time, but despite being mentally old, the character was still in his 40’s physically. Here, Grace Winters is both mentally and physically in her 70’s full of aches, pains, and a life devoid of friends and close family. Older FMC’s are deceptively tricky to write for but I found Grace to be both well-written and quite charming. Despite feeling like her days are lifeless despite being alive, she’s no elderly pushover and still has Haig’s signature wit and smart comedic chops. Easily the best part of The Life Impossible for me was her self-reflection of her life, regrets, and collective guilts that she carries. Her regrets are mostly topics and concepts common to the genre and story tropes, but the introspective commentary is what I’ve always considered to be one of Haig’s strong points. Unlike the more commonly written sad or crushed forms of depression, Grace self-describes herself as experiencing Anhedonia which is both similar yet distinctive from depression. I thought the descriptions and internal thoughts on her lack of feeling were solid and her slow realization that there’s more things out there worth living for and experiencing was great. The book was at its best for me when it focused on Grace and her character growth.
The problem I had with The Life Impossible was everything else surrounding Grace and the main plot. The written synopsis makes a pitch about unexplainable “magic” and Grace’s adventure to find out what happened to her long-lost friend who mysteriously disappeared and the life she had in the years since she moved to Ibiza. Last seen decades ago, her past colleague gifts her a cottage in Ibiza in her will, leading Grace to take a leap of faith to follow her and discover her life in the Mediterranean. That premise sounds great but the problem is Grace’s friend Christina and her life in Ibiza slowly become less of a focus as the plot progresses, and ultimately end up as mere plot devices just to get Grace to the island. While the first third of the book was focused on rediscovering Christina and following her life (interesting, though a bit slow at times), beyond that is where the book did an unexpected pivot that I didn’t see coming and didn’t care for personally. Without giving away spoilers, what ultimately happened to Christina and her disappearance was frankly rather outlandish to me despite obviously being part of the magic element and felt like something one would come up with in a fever dream.
Largely skimmed over in the synopsis, most of the actual plot of the Life Impossible then becomes a mashup of supernatural powers in Grace involving psychometry, mind-reading, ESP, and kinesis with a dose of extraterrestrial involvement. Now to be fair, Matt Haig’s previous books often involved fantasy and science fiction elements that were underdevelopment and light on world-building concepts in favor of focusing on the character development (case and point, The Humans for aliens or The Radleys for vampires). The Life Impossible however proudly used its thin constructs as narrative choices and the “unexplainable”. Perhaps I’m used to more functional or extensive systems for these types of plot elements, but I felt like the superpower progression was random and all over the place with zero checks and balances normally used to give the powers urgency. The mystery around the uninhabited outcrop Es Vedra and the phenomenon described as La Presencia, to me, grew increasingly more bizarre as the book continued and I was ultimately disappointed that these unusual occurrence were used as the main catalyst to shift Grace’s mindset, rather than character moments like in Haig’s previous novels. La Presencia also has a big role in Grace coming to terms with her guilt and in the past, I’ve been largely impressed by Haig’s writing in this area. Here though, Grace moving on from her past felt rushed, a bit surface level, and forced to fit into La Presencia’s plot element. I’ve mentioned before about how Magical Realism is completely hit or miss for me, and this book encompassed many of the elements and shortcomings I often have with this genre.
Contrary to the book’s pitch, Christina’s life wasn’t the focus of the book at all and even her character felt more of a side character in the background. It is the enigmatic, scraggly-looking diving hippie Alberto Ribas who is the other main character besides Grace. Alberto is a discredited marine scientist who was shunned by the scientific community after he published “La Vida Impossible”, a book that translates to The Impossible Life. Unfortunately Alberto is where the book lost me and could never get me back. One of the core underlying themes is there’s more to life out there than what meets the eye and everyone and everything is intrinsically connected, a motto that Alberto and Christina embody and convey constantly to Grace. That’s a fine takeaway message in and of itself, but my problem with this is that the last two thirds of the book is all about environmental hippie, counter-culture lifestyle where I was expecting a life-reliving and disappearance mystery instead. While I’m not opposed to the theme, it was a development that was nowhere mentioned in any of the book’s marketing. Had I known this was the direction the book was ultimately heading, I probably would not have picked this to read (so I guess on that note, good job marketing team on getting a reader that would’ve passed this over). I am also not very familiar with Ibiza’s culture or setting so maybe this is a fitting tribute and homage to the island. However, I can’t say it particularly appealed to me despite what is clearly Haig’s love letter to a place he loved and lived in previously according to his author notes. The core conflict of people protesting development on Es Vedra and the villain also felt quite weak compared to how good Grace’s character work was, and was considerably less compelling than Christina’s life.
As a whole, I did not really care for The Life Impossible and it’s probably my least favorite of Haig’s novels that I’ve read. However, that’s not to say that this is a bad book, not by a long-shot. The Life Impossible is perhaps one of his best works in terms of self-reflection and introspection, and this is clearly one of his most personal works to date. There’s also a confidence and subtle sophistication in this book that I found lacking in some of his earlier works. Haig was also able to make heavy mathematician references work within the narrative he was writing (Grace was a retired math teacher) and I loved some of the other geekier niche references included. I never thought I would read a book that included a reference to the lonely 52-hertz whale, a topic most people have never heard about:
<blockquote>Fifty-two hertz. It is the world’s loneliest whale because no other whale understands calls at that frequency. It is a blue whale, and blue whales are much lower. Blue whales are the Barry White of marine mammals. Deep, deep, deep. So the poor high-pitched creature has to swim through the ocean all alone, finding it impossible to make friends and with no one to hear his call.’ He was smiling, but his eyes were glazed with sadness. ‘I was that whale. I was writing about incredible things, and no one was on my wavelength. No one understood me. They thought I was a joke. Like a high-pitched whale.</blockquote>
It’s just a shame that the plot lost me and wasn’t able to win me back. I’ve had similar experiences with some of Matt Haig’s other books where the middle sections lag or feel like they’ve lost their direction, only for the endings to pull it back together and end on a high note. The Life Impossible is his first novel where I felt like the ending wasn’t able to salvage my opinion of its shortcomings and left me quite cold and put off by its concluding environmental and philosophical notes that can come off as preachy. When I think about it, The Life Impossible shares almost all of the same plot weaknesses as How to Stop Time exacerbated, paired with a less satisfying conclusion. Sometimes authors or artistic creators have a piece of work that was made for themselves, and one that others can appreciate for its aspirations, rather than actually enjoying it. This was unfortunately The Life Impossible for me.
I was intrigued to read this book largely due to it featuring an older, withdrawn female character and the core mystery to her past colleague’s disappearance. Haig has weathered protagonists before, namely Tom Hazard in How to Stop Time, but despite being mentally old, the character was still in his 40’s physically. Here, Grace Winters is both mentally and physically in her 70’s full of aches, pains, and a life devoid of friends and close family. Older FMC’s are deceptively tricky to write for but I found Grace to be both well-written and quite charming. Despite feeling like her days are lifeless despite being alive, she’s no elderly pushover and still has Haig’s signature wit and smart comedic chops. Easily the best part of The Life Impossible for me was her self-reflection of her life, regrets, and collective guilts that she carries. Her regrets are mostly topics and concepts common to the genre and story tropes, but the introspective commentary is what I’ve always considered to be one of Haig’s strong points. Unlike the more commonly written sad or crushed forms of depression, Grace self-describes herself as experiencing Anhedonia which is both similar yet distinctive from depression. I thought the descriptions and internal thoughts on her lack of feeling were solid and her slow realization that there’s more things out there worth living for and experiencing was great. The book was at its best for me when it focused on Grace and her character growth.
The problem I had with The Life Impossible was everything else surrounding Grace and the main plot. The written synopsis makes a pitch about unexplainable “magic” and Grace’s adventure to find out what happened to her long-lost friend who mysteriously disappeared and the life she had in the years since she moved to Ibiza. Last seen decades ago, her past colleague gifts her a cottage in Ibiza in her will, leading Grace to take a leap of faith to follow her and discover her life in the Mediterranean. That premise sounds great but the problem is Grace’s friend Christina and her life in Ibiza slowly become less of a focus as the plot progresses, and ultimately end up as mere plot devices just to get Grace to the island. While the first third of the book was focused on rediscovering Christina and following her life (interesting, though a bit slow at times), beyond that is where the book did an unexpected pivot that I didn’t see coming and didn’t care for personally. Without giving away spoilers, what ultimately happened to Christina and her disappearance was frankly rather outlandish to me despite obviously being part of the magic element and felt like something one would come up with in a fever dream.
Largely skimmed over in the synopsis, most of the actual plot of the Life Impossible then becomes a mashup of supernatural powers in Grace involving psychometry, mind-reading, ESP, and kinesis with a dose of extraterrestrial involvement. Now to be fair, Matt Haig’s previous books often involved fantasy and science fiction elements that were underdevelopment and light on world-building concepts in favor of focusing on the character development (case and point, The Humans for aliens or The Radleys for vampires). The Life Impossible however proudly used its thin constructs as narrative choices and the “unexplainable”. Perhaps I’m used to more functional or extensive systems for these types of plot elements, but I felt like the superpower progression was random and all over the place with zero checks and balances normally used to give the powers urgency. The mystery around the uninhabited outcrop Es Vedra and the phenomenon described as La Presencia, to me, grew increasingly more bizarre as the book continued and I was ultimately disappointed that these unusual occurrence were used as the main catalyst to shift Grace’s mindset, rather than character moments like in Haig’s previous novels. La Presencia also has a big role in Grace coming to terms with her guilt and in the past, I’ve been largely impressed by Haig’s writing in this area. Here though, Grace moving on from her past felt rushed, a bit surface level, and forced to fit into La Presencia’s plot element. I’ve mentioned before about how Magical Realism is completely hit or miss for me, and this book encompassed many of the elements and shortcomings I often have with this genre.
Contrary to the book’s pitch, Christina’s life wasn’t the focus of the book at all and even her character felt more of a side character in the background. It is the enigmatic, scraggly-looking diving hippie Alberto Ribas who is the other main character besides Grace. Alberto is a discredited marine scientist who was shunned by the scientific community after he published “La Vida Impossible”, a book that translates to The Impossible Life. Unfortunately Alberto is where the book lost me and could never get me back. One of the core underlying themes is there’s more to life out there than what meets the eye and everyone and everything is intrinsically connected, a motto that Alberto and Christina embody and convey constantly to Grace. That’s a fine takeaway message in and of itself, but my problem with this is that the last two thirds of the book is all about environmental hippie, counter-culture lifestyle where I was expecting a life-reliving and disappearance mystery instead. While I’m not opposed to the theme, it was a development that was nowhere mentioned in any of the book’s marketing. Had I known this was the direction the book was ultimately heading, I probably would not have picked this to read (so I guess on that note, good job marketing team on getting a reader that would’ve passed this over). I am also not very familiar with Ibiza’s culture or setting so maybe this is a fitting tribute and homage to the island. However, I can’t say it particularly appealed to me despite what is clearly Haig’s love letter to a place he loved and lived in previously according to his author notes. The core conflict of people protesting development on Es Vedra and the villain also felt quite weak compared to how good Grace’s character work was, and was considerably less compelling than Christina’s life.
As a whole, I did not really care for The Life Impossible and it’s probably my least favorite of Haig’s novels that I’ve read. However, that’s not to say that this is a bad book, not by a long-shot. The Life Impossible is perhaps one of his best works in terms of self-reflection and introspection, and this is clearly one of his most personal works to date. There’s also a confidence and subtle sophistication in this book that I found lacking in some of his earlier works. Haig was also able to make heavy mathematician references work within the narrative he was writing (Grace was a retired math teacher) and I loved some of the other geekier niche references included. I never thought I would read a book that included a reference to the lonely 52-hertz whale, a topic most people have never heard about:
<blockquote>Fifty-two hertz. It is the world’s loneliest whale because no other whale understands calls at that frequency. It is a blue whale, and blue whales are much lower. Blue whales are the Barry White of marine mammals. Deep, deep, deep. So the poor high-pitched creature has to swim through the ocean all alone, finding it impossible to make friends and with no one to hear his call.’ He was smiling, but his eyes were glazed with sadness. ‘I was that whale. I was writing about incredible things, and no one was on my wavelength. No one understood me. They thought I was a joke. Like a high-pitched whale.</blockquote>
It’s just a shame that the plot lost me and wasn’t able to win me back. I’ve had similar experiences with some of Matt Haig’s other books where the middle sections lag or feel like they’ve lost their direction, only for the endings to pull it back together and end on a high note. The Life Impossible is his first novel where I felt like the ending wasn’t able to salvage my opinion of its shortcomings and left me quite cold and put off by its concluding environmental and philosophical notes that can come off as preachy. When I think about it, The Life Impossible shares almost all of the same plot weaknesses as How to Stop Time exacerbated, paired with a less satisfying conclusion. Sometimes authors or artistic creators have a piece of work that was made for themselves, and one that others can appreciate for its aspirations, rather than actually enjoying it. This was unfortunately The Life Impossible for me.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Child death, Death, Infidelity, Terminal illness, Grief
Minor: Drug use
The Wedding People by Alison Espach
funny
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
Weddings can bring out the best and worst in people, but in Alison Espach’s The Wedding People, it brings out new discoveries about people that they didn’t realize in themselves before. Accidentally booking the top suite in a seaside hotel that was also completely reserved for Lila and Gary’s wedding, Phoebe leaves her entire withdrawn and broken life behind for a final last check-in at the Cornwall Inn. After witnessing her life pass by in a distant marriage only to completely fall apart soon after, her dark one way trip to Newport is interrupted by an overzealous and perfectionist bride. Despite being billed as a chick lit romance, The Wedding People is very much a contemporary drama novel that focuses on Phoebe's introspective journey to rediscover herself and regain interest in life. This one started off really rough and I struggled immensely to get through the first third of the book. However as it progressed and when it focused on Phoebe and Lila’s unorthodox friendship, I found it to be a much stronger read.
Right off the bat, I will be the first to admit that I’m nowhere near the readers and demographics this novel is clearly written for. A divorced FMC in her mid 40’s, Phoebe carries heavy baggage and values that do not resonate at all with me personally. Minor spoilers but these topics include divorce, an affair, infertility, depression, jealousy, spiraling, etc. Phoebe’s character is one that’s conservatively blank, passive, an excessive logical planner that’s also incredibly emotional, introverted, and fixated on others’ expectations. For many readers that are introverted feelers, I guarantee most will feel like they’ve been seen by this book and can relate to Phoebe. Unfortunately Phoebe’s backstory, character, and personality compared to me were like oil and water, and that heavily impacted my enjoyment of the first 100 pages. Whether it was Espach’s goal to present Phoebe’s character logic as being purposely flawed or to show the complexity of a separation where no one party is to blame, I struggled to empathize or care about Phoebe’s plight. A rather unfortunate note, I felt like Taylor Swift’s song “Anti-hero” was constantly playing in the background everytime Phoebe reflected on her past pain and life. The actual content and internalized thoughts were technically excellent in concept and were sentiments I’ve heard some of my more emotional friends experience verbatim. A lot of bad situations are thrown at Phoebe but she could’ve easily done something or really any attempt to address them instead of hesitating and doing nothing. I couldn’t help but feel like saying “sometimes it’s not all about you” or found myself actually agreeing with the “aggressors” of Phoebe’s pain (yes, I acknowledge that this can look like victim-blaming).
(TRIGGER WARNING)
And that’s a really bad takeaway when the reader is clearly meant to root for Phoebe, particularly when she decides to commit suicide after seeing the ocean and having a grand final room-service dinner via cat painkillers. It took me nearly two weeks of picking up this book and repeatedly almost DNF-ing to get through Phoebe’s backstory that leads to her decision to end her life by the sea (Phoebe was fighting to end her life in her imagined way while I was fighting to care at all about it). Phoebe’s depression and suicide were the elements I had the most issues with in the book mostly due to the reasoning behind it. On one hand, yes depression is a serious matter and for many people, it doesn’t make logical sense to someone who isn’t experiencing it. On the other hand, I have yet to read a book tackling depression that left me so apathetic to what happens to its character. I’m willing to give Espach a partial pass on this due to how well plotted and executed Phoebe’s shift in perspective is written during her stay at the Cornwall Inn, but this first section was rough for me. However, I appear to be in the minority as a logical guy in his 30’s who does not care about marriage or kids, I’m anything but who this book is targeted for.
The good news is that once Lila was introduced, everything started moving in the right direction. Superficially the complete opposite of Phoebe, their early stranger interactions were quite humorous and finally got me invested in the story. The book continued to improve with the groom Gary, his daughter Mel or “Juice”, and even their various wedding guests. Despite early scenes portraying the bride and groom’s families as quirky, dysfunctional members who all can’t stand each other, Espach did a great job of adding additional layers to each with the takeaway that Phoebe only sees who they want her to see.
Characters outside of Phoebe and Lila were generally quite good, except for Lila’s two bridesmaids who were ridiculously silly and had almost no substance, though I understand they were clearly meant to contrast Phoebe’s presence. However, nearly every other character was presented with deeper layers and backstories which made these two standout negatively. Lila’s mother Patricia was perhaps the most intriguing of the side characters due to her tense relationship with her daughter and her projection of her own life and realizations onto her. While I considered Phoebe’s depression to be alienating and overdramatic personally, I found Gary’s form of depression to be executed better despite the lack of pages and time spent on it. His baggage felt more substantiated and better incorporated into the dynamics of his relationship with his fiance Lila. The same could be said about his daughter Juice who is caught in-between Gary and Lila’s engagement while still grieving the death of her Mom and Gary’s first wife Wendy. Some of my favorite parts of the book involved Phoebe’s unconfident, yet well-meaning moments with Juice.
No matter the character or their backstory, nearly every relationship or conflict in The Wedding People largely hinges on some variation of miscommunication (or in this case, lack of communication). And normally this is a trope I have little patience for, particularly in romantic drama novels. However, I found the miscommunication to be well-done and at times, surprisingly clever depending on the relationship. Lila and Gary’s brother in law Jimmy, Lila and her mother Patricia, Phoebe and Gary, Gary and Juice, nearly every pair had miscommunication done well except for Phoebe and her ex-husband Matt as previously discussed. While some are quite meaty in content, some are even completely comical like art gallery owner Patricia’s marriage to her late husband, who confessed on his deathbed that he hates contemporary art and only pretended to like it on her behalf.
While the overall plot and the various wedding events were entirely predictable, it was the insightful commentary and character growth and kept me going. Phoebe and Lila’s unexpected friendship was my favorite part of the book (no easy feat considering I often find gal pal girlfriend interactions frivolous unless done well), and her ability to be honest and candid with Lila was a highlight, contrasting her inability to do anything for herself prior to her suicide attempt. I also respected Espach’s ending that emphasized how much Phoebe grew both in confidence and as a person without resorting to the expected and contrived “love and marriage makes everything okay.” Doing so would’ve undermined one of the book’s core themes that marriage and relationships can’t solve your own problems until you address them yourself. I can see some romance readers being disappointed by the ending lacking an expected romantic conclusion, but it did just what it needed to do for me personally. I also often find a lot of books that deal with depressive or suicidal characters fail to pull off the character growth necessary to change their outlook on life. The Wedding People is definitely one of the more competent recent attempts I’ve read, despite its questionable depressive starting point.
Written in a 3rd person present tense (admittedly not one of my preferred points of view), I had a bit of a mixed opinion on Espach’s writing. While easy to read, I consistently felt like too much of the story was being told to the reader vs being shown. The character dialogue and Phoebe’s thoughts were good in concept, but I felt like there could’ve been so much more character growth to draw in the reader had more of it been done on-paper. For example the book would show Phoebe and Gary having light banter with written dialogue, and then completely skip entire conversations with “and Phoebe learns about Gary’s background as a gastroenterologist” or “Phoebe tells him about her past cat Harry.” I felt like so many details and character moments were lost to Espach’s constant tendency of writing “off paper” that it weakened the overall narrative and experience. The Wedding People’s content is good, but it could’ve been great for me if elaborated further. I also had a love-hate relationship with the attempts at dark humor. For every dark jab or snark that worked, there were equally as many that missed the mark or worse, occasionally felt like they were making a comical folly out of heavy topics like suicide. And this is coming from someone who’s known for having dark humor and making jokes out of morally questionable content.
All in all, considering the story and Phoebe's character values contrasting my personality and reading interests, The Wedding People ended up being far better than I hoped for based on the first 100 pages. I understand the hype and can see so many people connecting and feeling seen by it, particularly older women in their late 30’s and up (or those mentally old and aged lol). Ultimately though this wasn’t a book for me and no matter how good it became as it progressed, that beginning arc was painful to persevere through. Had the first arc been adjusted, this would’ve easily been at least a 4 star or higher read for me. However as is, I’m going with 3.5 rounded down. This is one that I’m very curious to see what some of my friends think of, considering they are closer to those this book targeted readers than me.
Right off the bat, I will be the first to admit that I’m nowhere near the readers and demographics this novel is clearly written for. A divorced FMC in her mid 40’s, Phoebe carries heavy baggage and values that do not resonate at all with me personally. Minor spoilers but these topics include divorce, an affair, infertility, depression, jealousy, spiraling, etc. Phoebe’s character is one that’s conservatively blank, passive, an excessive logical planner that’s also incredibly emotional, introverted, and fixated on others’ expectations. For many readers that are introverted feelers, I guarantee most will feel like they’ve been seen by this book and can relate to Phoebe. Unfortunately Phoebe’s backstory, character, and personality compared to me were like oil and water, and that heavily impacted my enjoyment of the first 100 pages. Whether it was Espach’s goal to present Phoebe’s character logic as being purposely flawed or to show the complexity of a separation where no one party is to blame, I struggled to empathize or care about Phoebe’s plight. A rather unfortunate note, I felt like Taylor Swift’s song “Anti-hero” was constantly playing in the background everytime Phoebe reflected on her past pain and life. The actual content and internalized thoughts were technically excellent in concept and were sentiments I’ve heard some of my more emotional friends experience verbatim. A lot of bad situations are thrown at Phoebe but she could’ve easily done something or really any attempt to address them instead of hesitating and doing nothing. I couldn’t help but feel like saying “sometimes it’s not all about you” or found myself actually agreeing with the “aggressors” of Phoebe’s pain (yes, I acknowledge that this can look like victim-blaming).
(TRIGGER WARNING)
And that’s a really bad takeaway when the reader is clearly meant to root for Phoebe, particularly when she decides to commit suicide after seeing the ocean and having a grand final room-service dinner via cat painkillers. It took me nearly two weeks of picking up this book and repeatedly almost DNF-ing to get through Phoebe’s backstory that leads to her decision to end her life by the sea (Phoebe was fighting to end her life in her imagined way while I was fighting to care at all about it). Phoebe’s depression and suicide were the elements I had the most issues with in the book mostly due to the reasoning behind it. On one hand, yes depression is a serious matter and for many people, it doesn’t make logical sense to someone who isn’t experiencing it. On the other hand, I have yet to read a book tackling depression that left me so apathetic to what happens to its character. I’m willing to give Espach a partial pass on this due to how well plotted and executed Phoebe’s shift in perspective is written during her stay at the Cornwall Inn, but this first section was rough for me. However, I appear to be in the minority as a logical guy in his 30’s who does not care about marriage or kids, I’m anything but who this book is targeted for.
The good news is that once Lila was introduced, everything started moving in the right direction. Superficially the complete opposite of Phoebe, their early stranger interactions were quite humorous and finally got me invested in the story. The book continued to improve with the groom Gary, his daughter Mel or “Juice”, and even their various wedding guests. Despite early scenes portraying the bride and groom’s families as quirky, dysfunctional members who all can’t stand each other, Espach did a great job of adding additional layers to each with the takeaway that Phoebe only sees who they want her to see.
Characters outside of Phoebe and Lila were generally quite good, except for Lila’s two bridesmaids who were ridiculously silly and had almost no substance, though I understand they were clearly meant to contrast Phoebe’s presence. However, nearly every other character was presented with deeper layers and backstories which made these two standout negatively. Lila’s mother Patricia was perhaps the most intriguing of the side characters due to her tense relationship with her daughter and her projection of her own life and realizations onto her. While I considered Phoebe’s depression to be alienating and overdramatic personally, I found Gary’s form of depression to be executed better despite the lack of pages and time spent on it. His baggage felt more substantiated and better incorporated into the dynamics of his relationship with his fiance Lila. The same could be said about his daughter Juice who is caught in-between Gary and Lila’s engagement while still grieving the death of her Mom and Gary’s first wife Wendy. Some of my favorite parts of the book involved Phoebe’s unconfident, yet well-meaning moments with Juice.
No matter the character or their backstory, nearly every relationship or conflict in The Wedding People largely hinges on some variation of miscommunication (or in this case, lack of communication). And normally this is a trope I have little patience for, particularly in romantic drama novels. However, I found the miscommunication to be well-done and at times, surprisingly clever depending on the relationship. Lila and Gary’s brother in law Jimmy, Lila and her mother Patricia, Phoebe and Gary, Gary and Juice, nearly every pair had miscommunication done well except for Phoebe and her ex-husband Matt as previously discussed. While some are quite meaty in content, some are even completely comical like art gallery owner Patricia’s marriage to her late husband, who confessed on his deathbed that he hates contemporary art and only pretended to like it on her behalf.
While the overall plot and the various wedding events were entirely predictable, it was the insightful commentary and character growth and kept me going. Phoebe and Lila’s unexpected friendship was my favorite part of the book (no easy feat considering I often find gal pal girlfriend interactions frivolous unless done well), and her ability to be honest and candid with Lila was a highlight, contrasting her inability to do anything for herself prior to her suicide attempt. I also respected Espach’s ending that emphasized how much Phoebe grew both in confidence and as a person without resorting to the expected and contrived “love and marriage makes everything okay.” Doing so would’ve undermined one of the book’s core themes that marriage and relationships can’t solve your own problems until you address them yourself. I can see some romance readers being disappointed by the ending lacking an expected romantic conclusion, but it did just what it needed to do for me personally. I also often find a lot of books that deal with depressive or suicidal characters fail to pull off the character growth necessary to change their outlook on life. The Wedding People is definitely one of the more competent recent attempts I’ve read, despite its questionable depressive starting point.
Written in a 3rd person present tense (admittedly not one of my preferred points of view), I had a bit of a mixed opinion on Espach’s writing. While easy to read, I consistently felt like too much of the story was being told to the reader vs being shown. The character dialogue and Phoebe’s thoughts were good in concept, but I felt like there could’ve been so much more character growth to draw in the reader had more of it been done on-paper. For example the book would show Phoebe and Gary having light banter with written dialogue, and then completely skip entire conversations with “and Phoebe learns about Gary’s background as a gastroenterologist” or “Phoebe tells him about her past cat Harry.” I felt like so many details and character moments were lost to Espach’s constant tendency of writing “off paper” that it weakened the overall narrative and experience. The Wedding People’s content is good, but it could’ve been great for me if elaborated further. I also had a love-hate relationship with the attempts at dark humor. For every dark jab or snark that worked, there were equally as many that missed the mark or worse, occasionally felt like they were making a comical folly out of heavy topics like suicide. And this is coming from someone who’s known for having dark humor and making jokes out of morally questionable content.
All in all, considering the story and Phoebe's character values contrasting my personality and reading interests, The Wedding People ended up being far better than I hoped for based on the first 100 pages. I understand the hype and can see so many people connecting and feeling seen by it, particularly older women in their late 30’s and up (or those mentally old and aged lol). Ultimately though this wasn’t a book for me and no matter how good it became as it progressed, that beginning arc was painful to persevere through. Had the first arc been adjusted, this would’ve easily been at least a 4 star or higher read for me. However as is, I’m going with 3.5 rounded down. This is one that I’m very curious to see what some of my friends think of, considering they are closer to those this book targeted readers than me.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Cursing, Suicidal thoughts, Grief, Suicide attempt
Minor: Infertility, Infidelity
Dallergut Dream Department Store by Miye Lee
inspiring
lighthearted
relaxing
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
Creatively whimsical, The Dallergut Dream Department Store fits nicely into the cozy magical realism/fantasy-feel genre that admittedly is normally not my thing. Lee's debut novel follows a similar formula of other Asian-translated cozy reflective stories in a similar style of Kawaguchi's Before the Coffee Gets Cold or Aoyama's What You Are Looking for is in the Library. However unlike many books it's drawn similarities to, The Dallergut Dream Department store is presented in a far more whimsical manner that focuses on the Dream Village and the inner workings of how dreams are created, sold, and used by sleeping customers. Like those other novels, there isn't much of an overall plot or storyline as the main character Penny serves as a surrogate for the reader experiencing and learning about the Dallergut Dream Store. While I wasn’t necessarily hooked by this book, I was impressed by its creativity and appreciative of how well it accomplished what it was trying to do with its premise. At just over 200 pages, it’s also an incredibly easy and breezy read that you can pick up and put down casually without sacrificing details or the reading experience.
Cozy reads are typically not my go-to genre, and lately I’ve had a difficult time reading similar books previously mentioned due to perhaps cultural differences as well as dramatic emotional moments feeling entirely unwarranted (I acknowledge that some literary details and style may also be lost in translation). While being impressed by their concept, particularly Before the Coffee Gets Cold being a coffee lover myself, I had a lot of issues with these novels coming off as preachy and severely overestimating how insightful their reflections were which resulted in their emotional impact falling comically flat. The Dallergut Dream Department Store sidesteps those problems completely by focusing on the world of the Dream Village rather than individual customers’ lives and how they react to the dreams. The book does have several vignettes that focus on select customers’ dreams purchased from the store, however these stories are not meant to be emotional or give development for the character, but instead meant to present a visual example for whatever concept the novel is introducing. For example, the first vignette focuses on a young woman in her 20’s feeling unfulfilled being single. Her dream focuses on a workplace 3rd party vendor/collaborator and potential crush that she’s hesitant to make the first move towards. This short story is not meant to focus on Ah-young’s romantic life but instead meant to show how a dream is purchased from the store, experienced, and then paid for by taking a small commission percentage of the emotions/feelings the customer experiences after awakening. Her feelings towards the dream inspire her to reach out to her crush irl but the main purpose was to show how she experiences the feeling of “flutter” and how the store receives her payment.
Other vignettes follow a similar formula of a dream concept followed by a story such as a screenwriter struggling to come up with a new premise while the dream she purchases is a working demonstration of precognitive dreams (essentially the explanation behind the feeling of deja vu). Another story focuses on customers reliving one of their most stressful times of their lives meant to showcase how trauma dreams are used and how their purpose can benefit the dreamer in the long-run. One story even flips the readers’ expectation on itself with the customer ultimately succeeding in their endeavor by not purchasing a dream at all. These world-building elements and example stories are good as-is, but Lee enhances them by often connecting these dream customers to each other (ie. the screenwriter is best friends with the single office woman). While none of these stories are particularly moving or deep, they accomplish exactly what they’re meant to do and most importantly, don’t attempt to be anything they’re not, such as overly dramatic. Even the dreams that handle the topics of past trauma and loss are still written in a light manner that doesn't drag down the comfortable tone Lee maintains.
The creativity and way Lee incorporates different aspects of dreams, imagination, and sleep is all wonderful. Besides the aforementioned experience of deja vu, the novel also covers how dreams are made, how they are sold and used, even a Best Of awards show highlighting the popularity or critical elements of dreams. I also found how the novel addressed recent trends of people not getting enough sleep from overwork or browsing social media to be amusing and how the lack of sleep is heavily affecting the revenue and demand for dreams. Lee also covers precognition, traumatic moments, holiday dreams (yes Santa Claus makes an unexpected appearance), dreams experienced by pets and animals, and my personal favorite which is dreams where one encounters those who have already passed away. Pardon the bad pun, but some of these ideas feel like something you could only come up with in a fever dream. Yet it all works well, Lee’s Dream village and the Dallergut Department store feel fully lived-in and developed. And despite what’s covered, the concept is solid enough that I can easily see this being a series that continues to build on itself (a sequel already exists though it hasn’t been announced if Hanover Square Press will also be translating and publishing it).
Perhaps the biggest drawback of the Dallergut Dream Department Store is that there isn’t a real storyline or the traditional book elements of conflict and resolution; there are only two mild conflicts but I wouldn’t even call them conflicts for how minor they are. All two hundred pages are spent quietly exploring the world of dreams and Penny’s increasing knowledge while working at the store. I also found the book to be translated wonderfully by Sandy Joosun Lee, not suffering from any recurring issues I’ve noticed in many Asian translated works. My only mild nitpicks is that I would've liked if the book had a bit of a bigger hook (while comfy, it was a bit too low-stakes and casual for me) and I wish that the two epilogue chapters at the end of the book were swapped. The first epilogue addresses the minor mystery of why one of the store floor managers was expelled from the Dream Academy/University for dream-making while the second resolves the conflict of a stolen bottle of feelings currency. The first epilogue chapter was far more interesting and had more impact to me, which would’ve made a more memorable and lasting impact had the book closed with that chapter. On the other hand, I understand that putting the other epilogue chapter last tied the conclusion back to Penny since the bottle was stolen under her possession. Minor comments aside though, this was a lovely read that pleasantly surprised me in a genre I typically do not care for (overall 3.5 rounded up, but if I was scoring this based on creativity and concept, easy 4.5).
Cozy reads are typically not my go-to genre, and lately I’ve had a difficult time reading similar books previously mentioned due to perhaps cultural differences as well as dramatic emotional moments feeling entirely unwarranted (I acknowledge that some literary details and style may also be lost in translation). While being impressed by their concept, particularly Before the Coffee Gets Cold being a coffee lover myself, I had a lot of issues with these novels coming off as preachy and severely overestimating how insightful their reflections were which resulted in their emotional impact falling comically flat. The Dallergut Dream Department Store sidesteps those problems completely by focusing on the world of the Dream Village rather than individual customers’ lives and how they react to the dreams. The book does have several vignettes that focus on select customers’ dreams purchased from the store, however these stories are not meant to be emotional or give development for the character, but instead meant to present a visual example for whatever concept the novel is introducing. For example, the first vignette focuses on a young woman in her 20’s feeling unfulfilled being single. Her dream focuses on a workplace 3rd party vendor/collaborator and potential crush that she’s hesitant to make the first move towards. This short story is not meant to focus on Ah-young’s romantic life but instead meant to show how a dream is purchased from the store, experienced, and then paid for by taking a small commission percentage of the emotions/feelings the customer experiences after awakening. Her feelings towards the dream inspire her to reach out to her crush irl but the main purpose was to show how she experiences the feeling of “flutter” and how the store receives her payment.
Other vignettes follow a similar formula of a dream concept followed by a story such as a screenwriter struggling to come up with a new premise while the dream she purchases is a working demonstration of precognitive dreams (essentially the explanation behind the feeling of deja vu). Another story focuses on customers reliving one of their most stressful times of their lives meant to showcase how trauma dreams are used and how their purpose can benefit the dreamer in the long-run. One story even flips the readers’ expectation on itself with the customer ultimately succeeding in their endeavor by not purchasing a dream at all. These world-building elements and example stories are good as-is, but Lee enhances them by often connecting these dream customers to each other (ie. the screenwriter is best friends with the single office woman). While none of these stories are particularly moving or deep, they accomplish exactly what they’re meant to do and most importantly, don’t attempt to be anything they’re not, such as overly dramatic. Even the dreams that handle the topics of past trauma and loss are still written in a light manner that doesn't drag down the comfortable tone Lee maintains.
The creativity and way Lee incorporates different aspects of dreams, imagination, and sleep is all wonderful. Besides the aforementioned experience of deja vu, the novel also covers how dreams are made, how they are sold and used, even a Best Of awards show highlighting the popularity or critical elements of dreams. I also found how the novel addressed recent trends of people not getting enough sleep from overwork or browsing social media to be amusing and how the lack of sleep is heavily affecting the revenue and demand for dreams. Lee also covers precognition, traumatic moments, holiday dreams (yes Santa Claus makes an unexpected appearance), dreams experienced by pets and animals, and my personal favorite which is dreams where one encounters those who have already passed away. Pardon the bad pun, but some of these ideas feel like something you could only come up with in a fever dream. Yet it all works well, Lee’s Dream village and the Dallergut Department store feel fully lived-in and developed. And despite what’s covered, the concept is solid enough that I can easily see this being a series that continues to build on itself (a sequel already exists though it hasn’t been announced if Hanover Square Press will also be translating and publishing it).
Perhaps the biggest drawback of the Dallergut Dream Department Store is that there isn’t a real storyline or the traditional book elements of conflict and resolution; there are only two mild conflicts but I wouldn’t even call them conflicts for how minor they are. All two hundred pages are spent quietly exploring the world of dreams and Penny’s increasing knowledge while working at the store. I also found the book to be translated wonderfully by Sandy Joosun Lee, not suffering from any recurring issues I’ve noticed in many Asian translated works. My only mild nitpicks is that I would've liked if the book had a bit of a bigger hook (while comfy, it was a bit too low-stakes and casual for me) and I wish that the two epilogue chapters at the end of the book were swapped. The first epilogue addresses the minor mystery of why one of the store floor managers was expelled from the Dream Academy/University for dream-making while the second resolves the conflict of a stolen bottle of feelings currency. The first epilogue chapter was far more interesting and had more impact to me, which would’ve made a more memorable and lasting impact had the book closed with that chapter. On the other hand, I understand that putting the other epilogue chapter last tied the conclusion back to Penny since the bottle was stolen under her possession. Minor comments aside though, this was a lovely read that pleasantly surprised me in a genre I typically do not care for (overall 3.5 rounded up, but if I was scoring this based on creativity and concept, easy 4.5).