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keegan_leech's reviews
48 reviews
Greek Lessons by Han Kang
challenging
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
I adore Han Kang's writing, and if you are a fan, then Greek Lessons will almost certainly appeal to you. For those who aren't familiar with the author, this would be a great first novel to read.
Han is a writer strongly fixated on metaphor. Greek Lessons, like her other novels has a central narrative conceit which is less a focus of the novel than it is a vehicle for Han's philosophical concerns. In this case, a woman who has lost speech but is fascinated by the linguistic and textual structures of language, and a man who teaches a dead language and is slowly loosing his sight. The history and relationship between these two become Han's basis for exploring the limits of expression, connection, and experience.
Some of these explorations stray into "philosophy first year getting a little wasted and speculating about existence with friends" territory. Characters have a tendency to wonder to themselves questions which could have been left implied, but the novel is not badly hampered by this occasional heavy-handedness. The novel is quite blunt, but Han never condescends or forces a conclusion on the reader. Instead, the novel pushes a reader back and forth between questions about language and trauma and human connection, provoking thoughts, but never settling on a particular one for long.
Beneath it all runs a deep and powerful emotional current. A kind of bittersweet reflection on the characters' lives and experiences. It shapes the novel well, and connects what might otherwise become disordered and overly-intellectual meanderings.
If you want a collection of thematically-connected Imagist prose-poems then Han's The White Book is pretty much exactly that, but Greek Lessons leans a little more towards the prose side. Its thematic concerns a little more direct and its narrative throughline more concrete. It is an excellent journey into Han Kang's wonderfully affecting style and her challenging, ruminative content. Highly recommended, whether you are a returning fan, or someone stumbling upon her work for the first time.
Han is a writer strongly fixated on metaphor. Greek Lessons, like her other novels has a central narrative conceit which is less a focus of the novel than it is a vehicle for Han's philosophical concerns. In this case, a woman who has lost speech but is fascinated by the linguistic and textual structures of language, and a man who teaches a dead language and is slowly loosing his sight. The history and relationship between these two become Han's basis for exploring the limits of expression, connection, and experience.
Some of these explorations stray into "philosophy first year getting a little wasted and speculating about existence with friends" territory. Characters have a tendency to wonder to themselves questions which could have been left implied, but the novel is not badly hampered by this occasional heavy-handedness. The novel is quite blunt, but Han never condescends or forces a conclusion on the reader. Instead, the novel pushes a reader back and forth between questions about language and trauma and human connection, provoking thoughts, but never settling on a particular one for long.
Beneath it all runs a deep and powerful emotional current. A kind of bittersweet reflection on the characters' lives and experiences. It shapes the novel well, and connects what might otherwise become disordered and overly-intellectual meanderings.
If you want a collection of thematically-connected Imagist prose-poems then Han's The White Book is pretty much exactly that, but Greek Lessons leans a little more towards the prose side. Its thematic concerns a little more direct and its narrative throughline more concrete. It is an excellent journey into Han Kang's wonderfully affecting style and her challenging, ruminative content. Highly recommended, whether you are a returning fan, or someone stumbling upon her work for the first time.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Animal death
Farm Killings in South Africa by Nechama Brodie
challenging
dark
informative
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
Very good. Brodie's writing has the quality of the very best non-fiction, a capacity for both breadth and depth. Not only does she investigate very particular details of the popular discussion around farm killings, but she draws in context from a great variety of sources. The book covers the history of agriculture in South Africa, the complexities of studying and reporting on violence, and some of the thornier political complexities of how violent crime is discussed in South Africa.
This is the most thorough and informative writing on the subject of farm killings in South Africa. Anyone who wants to understand or discuss the topic should read this book.
This is the most thorough and informative writing on the subject of farm killings in South Africa. Anyone who wants to understand or discuss the topic should read this book.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Death, Gun violence, Hate crime, Physical abuse, Racism, Rape, Sexual assault, Sexual violence, Violence, Murder, Fire/Fire injury, and Injury/Injury detail
Both because of the nature of the topic and the historical and other context which it covers, there is a lot of discussion of various forms of violence. Most of it is treated with the same sort of tone which might be used in a news report or history textbook, but the degree and amount of violence makes for an overall harrowing read.
Veganarchism: Philosophy, Praxis, Self-criticism by Joseph Parampathu
reflective
medium-paced
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Crom Cruach by Valkyrie Loughcrewe
[^1]: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crom_Cruach
[^2]: http://www.templeport.ie/magh-slecht-dara-fort/plain-of-blood.pdf
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
This book was so good. Right off the top, if you like weird horror and experimental, boundary-pushing fiction then you should just go read this right now. I guarantee that Crom Cruach can offer you something unusual, thought-provoking, and worthwhile. But I've already read this twice, and I've had a lot of time to think about it since, so here comes a longer review.
---
This novella reads very quickly. It's short to begin with, and the verse form makes it fly past. Not only are there fewer words on a page than there might be if it were written in prose, but I found the flow of the prose really pulled me along. The writing is fluid and engrossing. The result being that Crom Cruach can essentially be read in a single sitting—for maximum thrilling effect I recommend reading it overnight in the dark. Even if you don't read it in one go though, the novella's divided into three parts (as well as a short interlude) which offer nice natural breaks.
The verse form also makes for a very affecting tone. Throughout, the writing is evocative and portentous, and complements the horror of the story well. Like many of the best horror stories, Crom Cruach blends supernatural horror with the everyday horrors of (in this case) colonialism, bigotry, religious persecution, fascism, and more. Prose can have a tendency to make the metaphorical renderings of these real social horrors seem especially clumsy. There's a tendency to draw connections too explicitly, resulting in the novel equivalent of a movie monster that is very obviously a person in a rubber suit. Not necessarily a terrible thing, but sometimes a little damaging to the overall experience. Verse, however, excels where metaphor is involved. The structure of the novella makes it feel absolutely uncomfortably natural thatneo-nazi cults and avenging archangels could be stalking the night together, bringing violence and persecution, death and undeath. If anything, this tone sells the themes of the novella better than anything else. It might be easy to trivialise atrocities like colonialism and religious persecution by lining them up them alongside hauntings and the living dead, but Loughcrewe wields metaphor well. The ultimate effect is a strengthening of the novella's themes, and a more powerful impact to its most important moments.
I won't post any details, even behind a spoiler warning—just go read it, it's very short—but the final scene of the novella is especially powerful. Moving, tense, unpleasant, cathartic, the kind of thing that makes you want to jump up and yell and shout at the sky and shake the world by the shoulders! A real triumph of horror writing.
Lastly, while it's not necessary for an enjoyment of or understanding of (much of) the story, I'd recommend pairing Crom Cruach with some general reading. The Crom Cruach Wikipedia page[^1] is some convenient background if you've never heard of the deity before, but I found a study linked there called "The Plain of Blood"[^2] to be especially interesting reading and a lot more in-depth background. I read these, and several other articles on the history of Ireland and the various religious figures mentioned, in-between my two reads of Crom Cruach. As someone without much more than a surface-level understanding of the history here, it really enriched my second read through.
---
This novella reads very quickly. It's short to begin with, and the verse form makes it fly past. Not only are there fewer words on a page than there might be if it were written in prose, but I found the flow of the prose really pulled me along. The writing is fluid and engrossing. The result being that Crom Cruach can essentially be read in a single sitting—for maximum thrilling effect I recommend reading it overnight in the dark. Even if you don't read it in one go though, the novella's divided into three parts (as well as a short interlude) which offer nice natural breaks.
The verse form also makes for a very affecting tone. Throughout, the writing is evocative and portentous, and complements the horror of the story well. Like many of the best horror stories, Crom Cruach blends supernatural horror with the everyday horrors of (in this case) colonialism, bigotry, religious persecution, fascism, and more. Prose can have a tendency to make the metaphorical renderings of these real social horrors seem especially clumsy. There's a tendency to draw connections too explicitly, resulting in the novel equivalent of a movie monster that is very obviously a person in a rubber suit. Not necessarily a terrible thing, but sometimes a little damaging to the overall experience. Verse, however, excels where metaphor is involved. The structure of the novella makes it feel absolutely uncomfortably natural that
I won't post any details, even behind a spoiler warning—just go read it, it's very short—but the final scene of the novella is especially powerful. Moving, tense, unpleasant, cathartic, the kind of thing that makes you want to jump up and yell and shout at the sky and shake the world by the shoulders! A real triumph of horror writing.
Lastly, while it's not necessary for an enjoyment of or understanding of (much of) the story, I'd recommend pairing Crom Cruach with some general reading. The Crom Cruach Wikipedia page[^1] is some convenient background if you've never heard of the deity before, but I found a study linked there called "The Plain of Blood"[^2] to be especially interesting reading and a lot more in-depth background. I read these, and several other articles on the history of Ireland and the various religious figures mentioned, in-between my two reads of Crom Cruach. As someone without much more than a surface-level understanding of the history here, it really enriched my second read through.
Now go out and read this book!
[^1]: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crom_Cruach
[^2]: http://www.templeport.ie/magh-slecht-dara-fort/plain-of-blood.pdf
Content Warnings
Graphic: Animal cruelty, Body horror, Hate crime, Torture, Violence, Blood, Religious bigotry, Murder, and Injury/Injury detail
Moderate: Child death, Racism, Transphobia, Vomit, Car accident, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , and Colonisation
It's pretty graphic horror.
Bonsai by Alejandro Zambra
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
A strange, enchanting little story about falling in and out of love with a kind of melancholy self-seriousness that I actually really liked. Certainly not for everyone—I imagine it could easily come off as too pretentious—but I found it very charming.
The novel can be whimsically funny, insightful, and emotional in a kind of stilted way that reminded me of some of Sally Rooney or Jeanette Winterson's work. It's more academically-minded moments have the kind of bizarre metaphorical bent that's common to writers like Borges. The sort of thing that can come off as pretentious waffle if you dislike it, but which I enjoy.
At its heart though, Bonsai is a story about falling in and out of love. Finding and then losing connections. And how even brief relationships can change us forever. I think that's a theme worth getting a little pretentious about.
The novel can be whimsically funny, insightful, and emotional in a kind of stilted way that reminded me of some of Sally Rooney or Jeanette Winterson's work. It's more academically-minded moments have the kind of bizarre metaphorical bent that's common to writers like Borges. The sort of thing that can come off as pretentious waffle if you dislike it, but which I enjoy.
At its heart though, Bonsai is a story about falling in and out of love. Finding and then losing connections. And how even brief relationships can change us forever. I think that's a theme worth getting a little pretentious about.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Suicide
Minor: Drug abuse
The Silence by Don DeLillo
Don. That's embarrassing.
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
1.25
This was bad. I hope DeLillo's embarrassed about this one, but he's probably not. The man's in his eighties, and he comes across as someone trying very hard to write the way people expect Don DeLillo to write.
There are some nice ideas in the book, but they're not very well executed, and the result is a bit of a boring slurry. But the bad ideas are what really put the nail in the coffin.
We get some "phones bad" pontificating about how digital connectedness has shaped society for the worse, which doesn't actually do much to explore how digital connectedness has shaped society. There's a lot of references to Einstein and the theory of special relativity, although DeLillo never gives a good reason why. It seems that he simply thinks it would be appropriate for a physics student to be obsessed with Einstein (though the student's former teacher doesn't seem to know anything about relativity and the student mostly talks to himself for the apparent purpose of acting like a physics student). While he could be aiming for some kind of pop-science slant on relativity as a metaphor for human connection, DeLillo doesn't even go that far. There's some meditations on how humanity would behave in a crisis, which aren't very interesting or original (for a much better novel on the topic, try José Saramago's Blindness, which has its issues, but is actually well-written and has something to say).
But perhaps the worst, most comically embarrassing moment is a passage that I'll just type out in full between spoiler tags. I really lost all hope that the novel was redeemable when I reached it, because it is just impossible to take anything seriously after reading such absurd, pretentious bunk. If at this point you still feel like the novel is still worth your time, then I hope this dissuades you. If it doesn't, please read more books, you deserve better.
There are some nice ideas in the book, but they're not very well executed, and the result is a bit of a boring slurry. But the bad ideas are what really put the nail in the coffin.
We get some "phones bad" pontificating about how digital connectedness has shaped society for the worse, which doesn't actually do much to explore how digital connectedness has shaped society. There's a lot of references to Einstein and the theory of special relativity, although DeLillo never gives a good reason why. It seems that he simply thinks it would be appropriate for a physics student to be obsessed with Einstein (though the student's former teacher doesn't seem to know anything about relativity and the student mostly talks to himself for the apparent purpose of acting like a physics student). While he could be aiming for some kind of pop-science slant on relativity as a metaphor for human connection, DeLillo doesn't even go that far. There's some meditations on how humanity would behave in a crisis, which aren't very interesting or original (for a much better novel on the topic, try José Saramago's Blindness, which has its issues, but is actually well-written and has something to say).
But perhaps the worst, most comically embarrassing moment is a passage that I'll just type out in full between spoiler tags. I really lost all hope that the novel was redeemable when I reached it, because it is just impossible to take anything seriously after reading such absurd, pretentious bunk. If at this point you still feel like the novel is still worth your time, then I hope this dissuades you. If it doesn't, please read more books, you deserve better.
Martin resumes speaking for a time, back to English, unaccented.
Internet arms race, wireless signals, countersurveillance.
"Data breaches," he says. "Cryptocurrencies."
He speaks this last term looking directly at Diane.
Cryptocurrencies.
She builds the word in her mind, unhyphenated.
They are looking at each other now.
She says, "Cryptocurrencies."
She doesn't have to ask him what this means.
He says, "Money running wild. Not a new development. No government standard. Financial mayhem."
"And it is happening when?"
"Now," he says. "Has been happening. Will continue to happen."
"Cryptocurrencies."
"Now."
"Crypto," she says, pausing, keeping her eyes on Martin. "Currencies."
Somewhere withinin all those syllables, something secret, covert, intimate.
Don. That's embarrassing.
Content Warnings
Minor: Sexual content, Injury/Injury detail, and Pandemic/Epidemic
Queens of Noise by Leigh Harlen
adventurous
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
lighthearted
fast-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? No
5.0
Wow, this was such a charming, wonderful, fun story. Absolutely great. Highly recommended. Go read it! More than anything else, the characters are genuine, well-written, and a joy to encounter.
The story is not very complex and that's fine. It's a novella which already includes several separate sub-plots; for each of them to be satisfyingly resolved within the space of the novella requires that they're relatively straightforward. The real joy here is getting to spend time with the characters.
Queens of Noise includes some of the best-written queer characters I've ever read. I can't over-estimate just how much they feel like people I might actually meet at a local queer event or in the pit at a punk show. If for nothing else, the book is worth reading just to get to hang out with Mixi and their crew of queer, punk misfits. What better fun could you ask for than queer romance, punk music, lycantrhopy, witchcraft, and a battle of the bands?!
(Also, I think its very funny that the Mangy Rats are a literal band of were-coyotes.)
The story is not very complex and that's fine. It's a novella which already includes several separate sub-plots; for each of them to be satisfyingly resolved within the space of the novella requires that they're relatively straightforward. The real joy here is getting to spend time with the characters.
Queens of Noise includes some of the best-written queer characters I've ever read. I can't over-estimate just how much they feel like people I might actually meet at a local queer event or in the pit at a punk show. If for nothing else, the book is worth reading just to get to hang out with Mixi and their crew of queer, punk misfits. What better fun could you ask for than queer romance, punk music, lycantrhopy, witchcraft, and a battle of the bands?!
(Also, I think its very funny that the Mangy Rats are a literal band of were-coyotes.)
Content Warnings
Moderate: Animal cruelty and Dysphoria
The animal cruelty is the most likely to be upsetting, although the animals are basically all shape-shifters, possessed, or otherwise not just regular animals .
I've also tagged for moderate dysphoria, because of a short conversation between two characters (both trans) about their own feelings and relationships. I thought it was very well written, and an example of very good representation. I am cis though, so YMMV.
Shikasta: Re: Colonised Planet 5 by Doris Lessing
Shikasta is a fictional planet which—it quickly becomes apparent—is simply one of the names given to Earth by the aliens that colonise it and oversee its development. In this first part, we're given a brief history of Shikasta, and an introduction to the setting. One thing that's also clear very quickly is that this first part is essentially a reinterpretation of several Old Testament stories: the Fall of Man, the Flood, etc. All are reimagined with benevolent, paternalistic aliens—the Canopeans—taking on the roles of God, angels, prophets, and so on.
This puts an interesting spin on the stories. The Canopeans are powerful and intelligent, but not all-powerful. The Flood in Shikasta is not deliberate, but an ecological accident which they cannot prevent. Similarly, the utopian version of Shikasta that substitutes for Eden collapses because of a quirk of planetary mis-alignment, not because humanity is cast out of the Garden for its sins.
The Canopeans are not the only aliens to colonise Shikasta. Another group, the Sirians, perform ecological experiments in the Southern hemisphere of the planet (apparently detailed in a sequel). Then there's the Shammat, who essentially play Satan, devils, evil influence, and so on in opposition to the influence of the Canopeans.
This first part of the novel is interesting. I enjoyed exploring its religious themes and inspirations through Lessing's somewhat mystical science-fiction lens. But it does start to feel a little... arbitrary after a time. No one in the novel really seems to be in control of their actions. The people of Shikasta behave as the alignment of the heavens dictates. The Canopeans, while they have a sort of strict, paternalistic idea of how things should operate on Shikasta, don't seem to have much free will either. It is unclear to what degree they can affect the world, and to what degree they are passive observers just like the Shikastans. But this is at least an interesting approach to role as deity/deities in the novel.
This is where the paternalistic, omniscient overlord vibes really become irritating. The second part of the novel is essentially several characters sketches set on 20th century Earth. It is mostly setup for the final part, but Lessing also uses this part to comment on human nature, colonisation, racism, class, and global politics in the 20th century (less insightfully, in my opinion, than she does in the final part).
Throughout this section, the Canopean narrator constantly looks down upon Shikasta. He essentially says, in many more words, "Look at these poor, confused people squabbling over their petty politics, messy emotions, and self-imposed divisions." There is some cutting and well-directed criticism of humanity, but for the most part it is written from such a condescending, detached point of view that it loses what impact it should have.
Often, Lessing will make jabs at the stubborn ideological divisions of Cold War politics, which start out well but end in a kind of milquetoast "No one is right, though we enlightened Canopeans can see clearly the true way of things, which are obvious to anyone not as simple as these humans". But what use is that to a reader? It doesn't suggest solutions to social or political issues, just a kind of blanket pity for humanity. Humanity which—in the setting of Shikasta—is guided by the motion of the heavens more so than individual moral choices or beliefs.
The first two parts of the novel are almost in direct thematic opposition to one another. In the first, it is the character of the Canopeans which holds the most interest. After all, humanity seems practically incapable of directing itself, and while Canopean interference seems to have some impact on the course of events on Shikasta, it sits in tension with the fallibility and limitations of the Canopeans. In the second part, the Canopeans are simultaneously all-knowing but distant observers with nothing insightful to say about events on Shikasta, or (sent to the planet as envoys in the form of humans) subject to the same lack of free will, moral failings, and corruption as the rest of Shikasta. They are omniscient beings with no specific moral philosophy looking down on short-sighted humans with no apparent capability for ethical decision-making.
Part three is only able to regain interest by abandoning the omniscience of the Canopeans that has been present throughout the first two parts.
In the final part of the novel, the Canopean narrator is sent to Shikasta with a plan to direct the planet back onto its proper moral course. He is born into the body of a normal human being, and the events of his life are narrated by several other people who encounter him.
Finally, with no idea of how the Canopeans think events on Shikasta should unfold, the actions and moral choices of the characters have some kind of weight to them. The narrator takes the name George Sherbanand quickly becomes an influential figure in global politics . Because the reader no longer knows his thought process, it is unclear whether he is carrying out his mission as intended, or being led astray. After all, other Canopean emissaries, described in part two, have been corrupted by the environment of Shikasta, or failed in their missions. George's siblings—themselves reincarnated Shikastans—seem to have no awareness of the lives they lived before being born into their current bodies, and it is suggested that Canopean emissaries are similarly limited to their human experience and at most a subconscious awareness of their mission.
This part extends well into what was, for Lessing, the future. She imagines ecological, economic, and political catastrophe. And the combination of this speculative future with a focus on the thoughts and motivations of individual people (made more complex by the lack of an omniscient narrator) makes the novel much more engaging. I found this final part engrossing and it really flew by.
Actions and events are no longer reduced to either "A good thing which happens thanks to the successful influence of Canopus" or "A bad thing caused by planetary alignment/Shammat's influence/Shikastan short-sightedness". Does the climax of the novel represent some moral triumph brought on by the successful efforts of Canopus, or is is an example of their efforts being corrupted by human politicking? Has George Sherban carried out his mission as intended, or has he brought about undue emotional and physical distress in the process? Because there's no omniscient beings to answer these questions for us, finally you the reader get to have some of your own thoughts about the novel.
Personally, I liked this ethical mess for its own sake. I thought that the Trial in particular was excellently written because it devolved into uncertainty, doubt, and dozens of smaller, more personal discussions. Lessing's refusal to settle on simple, final answers to complex problems (although she did stray too close to "I guess everyone's just a little racist") was ultimately extremely satisfying. It may be clear from the rest of this review, but I wish this kind of moral complexity had been present more often.
At the end of it all, I was glad to have read Shikasta, and I'm even tempted by the sequels. But I don't think I'm tempted enough. The book just went on too long and said too little to be really worth the time (and I wrote this review! I will put up with a really unforgivable degree of waffling!) It is interesting to read unusual and experimental science fiction, especially from an author known for her literary fiction, but I can get the same thing elsewhere, with greater thematic depth and more satisfying results.
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.5
A very interesting read, don't get me wrong! It's just... maybe this is one of those "better in theory" kind of ideas. There are many interesting moments and ideas, but the novel seems like one that would have worked better as a collection of much condensed short stories, with its weaker sections cut entirely.
Shikasta especially drags in the middle, although to explain why, it's necessary to discuss the central conceit and themes of the novel. If you want to avoid all spoilers and go in blind, skip the rest of this review. Just know that I found this interesting, but not enough to recommend it unless you're really curious about Doris Lessing's Strange Science Fiction Experiment, and won't be put off by poor execution.
Let the essay begin! Major spoilers will still be tagged. Since the novel can be quite naturally divided into three major parts, that's how I'll structure this review.
Shikasta especially drags in the middle, although to explain why, it's necessary to discuss the central conceit and themes of the novel. If you want to avoid all spoilers and go in blind, skip the rest of this review. Just know that I found this interesting, but not enough to recommend it unless you're really curious about Doris Lessing's Strange Science Fiction Experiment, and won't be put off by poor execution.
Let the essay begin! Major spoilers will still be tagged. Since the novel can be quite naturally divided into three major parts, that's how I'll structure this review.
Part One — God is a Little Green Man
Shikasta is a fictional planet which—it quickly becomes apparent—is simply one of the names given to Earth by the aliens that colonise it and oversee its development. In this first part, we're given a brief history of Shikasta, and an introduction to the setting. One thing that's also clear very quickly is that this first part is essentially a reinterpretation of several Old Testament stories: the Fall of Man, the Flood, etc. All are reimagined with benevolent, paternalistic aliens—the Canopeans—taking on the roles of God, angels, prophets, and so on.
This puts an interesting spin on the stories. The Canopeans are powerful and intelligent, but not all-powerful. The Flood in Shikasta is not deliberate, but an ecological accident which they cannot prevent. Similarly, the utopian version of Shikasta that substitutes for Eden collapses because of a quirk of planetary mis-alignment, not because humanity is cast out of the Garden for its sins.
The Canopeans are not the only aliens to colonise Shikasta. Another group, the Sirians, perform ecological experiments in the Southern hemisphere of the planet (apparently detailed in a sequel). Then there's the Shammat, who essentially play Satan, devils, evil influence, and so on in opposition to the influence of the Canopeans.
This first part of the novel is interesting. I enjoyed exploring its religious themes and inspirations through Lessing's somewhat mystical science-fiction lens. But it does start to feel a little... arbitrary after a time. No one in the novel really seems to be in control of their actions. The people of Shikasta behave as the alignment of the heavens dictates. The Canopeans, while they have a sort of strict, paternalistic idea of how things should operate on Shikasta, don't seem to have much free will either. It is unclear to what degree they can affect the world, and to what degree they are passive observers just like the Shikastans. But this is at least an interesting approach to role as deity/deities in the novel.
Part Two — We Know Every Great Moral Truth and We're Not Sharing
This is where the paternalistic, omniscient overlord vibes really become irritating. The second part of the novel is essentially several characters sketches set on 20th century Earth. It is mostly setup for the final part, but Lessing also uses this part to comment on human nature, colonisation, racism, class, and global politics in the 20th century (less insightfully, in my opinion, than she does in the final part).
Throughout this section, the Canopean narrator constantly looks down upon Shikasta. He essentially says, in many more words, "Look at these poor, confused people squabbling over their petty politics, messy emotions, and self-imposed divisions." There is some cutting and well-directed criticism of humanity, but for the most part it is written from such a condescending, detached point of view that it loses what impact it should have.
Often, Lessing will make jabs at the stubborn ideological divisions of Cold War politics, which start out well but end in a kind of milquetoast "No one is right, though we enlightened Canopeans can see clearly the true way of things, which are obvious to anyone not as simple as these humans". But what use is that to a reader? It doesn't suggest solutions to social or political issues, just a kind of blanket pity for humanity. Humanity which—in the setting of Shikasta—is guided by the motion of the heavens more so than individual moral choices or beliefs.
The first two parts of the novel are almost in direct thematic opposition to one another. In the first, it is the character of the Canopeans which holds the most interest. After all, humanity seems practically incapable of directing itself, and while Canopean interference seems to have some impact on the course of events on Shikasta, it sits in tension with the fallibility and limitations of the Canopeans. In the second part, the Canopeans are simultaneously all-knowing but distant observers with nothing insightful to say about events on Shikasta, or (sent to the planet as envoys in the form of humans) subject to the same lack of free will, moral failings, and corruption as the rest of Shikasta. They are omniscient beings with no specific moral philosophy looking down on short-sighted humans with no apparent capability for ethical decision-making.
Part three is only able to regain interest by abandoning the omniscience of the Canopeans that has been present throughout the first two parts.
Part Three — The Good Bit
In the final part of the novel, the Canopean narrator is sent to Shikasta with a plan to direct the planet back onto its proper moral course. He is born into the body of a normal human being, and the events of his life are narrated by several other people who encounter him.
Finally, with no idea of how the Canopeans think events on Shikasta should unfold, the actions and moral choices of the characters have some kind of weight to them. The narrator takes the name George Sherban
This part extends well into what was, for Lessing, the future. She imagines ecological, economic, and political catastrophe. And the combination of this speculative future with a focus on the thoughts and motivations of individual people (made more complex by the lack of an omniscient narrator) makes the novel much more engaging. I found this final part engrossing and it really flew by.
Actions and events are no longer reduced to either "A good thing which happens thanks to the successful influence of Canopus" or "A bad thing caused by planetary alignment/Shammat's influence/Shikastan short-sightedness". Does the climax of the novel represent some moral triumph brought on by the successful efforts of Canopus, or is is an example of their efforts being corrupted by human politicking? Has George Sherban carried out his mission as intended, or has he brought about undue emotional and physical distress in the process? Because there's no omniscient beings to answer these questions for us, finally you the reader get to have some of your own thoughts about the novel.
Conclusion — TL;DR
At the end of it all, I was glad to have read Shikasta, and I'm even tempted by the sequels. But I don't think I'm tempted enough. The book just went on too long and said too little to be really worth the time (and I wrote this review! I will put up with a really unforgivable degree of waffling!) It is interesting to read unusual and experimental science fiction, especially from an author known for her literary fiction, but I can get the same thing elsewhere, with greater thematic depth and more satisfying results.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Colonisation
Minor: Addiction, Child death, Domestic abuse, Emotional abuse, Genocide, Mental illness, Physical abuse, Racial slurs, Toxic relationship, Xenophobia, Religious bigotry, Death of parent, Schizophrenia/Psychosis , War, and Classism
Most things I CW'd are mentioned only in passing, and not focused on heavily or for extended periods.
Just about all of the potentially triggering content is described in a neutral, detatched way. It is typically on par with the kind of brief description you might find in a history textbook or news report. Even more personal content is often described with some degree of remove or detatchment.
The Word for World Is Forest by Ursula K. Le Guin
challenging
dark
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? N/A
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
I read this a couple of months ago now and I'm still thinking about it so let's get into why. Le Guin is a genius. If you just want a simple recommendation: Absolutely just go read this novella, and all her other writing while you're at it. Can't recommend her highly enough. There are certainly criticisms to be made of the novella, although its flaws don't make it less worthy of discussion or interest. The rest of this is just my thoughts on the book in more detail.
Extended Discussion
I have thought a lot about this novel in the context of two other works:
- Le Guin's essay "The Carrier-Bag Theory of Fiction", and
- James Cameron's Avatar films.
I think these make interesting (if not worthwhile, in the case of Avatar) companion pieces to the novella.
The Avatar connection is an easy one: both those films and this story are essentially sci-fi metaphors for real-world colonialism. Both revolve around far future humans who colonise a distant planet to strip it of a rare resource, which is essentially important only as a MacGuffin to drive the story. In the process, the indigenous people of the world are violently subjugated, their cultural values threatened, and eventually (minor spoiler) both fight back the incursion by humans . There's even a human sympathetic to the indigenous people who comes to understand some of their culture, and assists them in their fight. However, the two stories treat their subject matter very differently, and that comes across in the telling of the stories.
The Word for World is Forest (which I'll call Forest) focuses on the psychological and social impacts of colonisation. A central focus of the book is how the Athsheans, the story's indigenous people, are changed not just by the acts committed by the colonising humans, but by their acts of resistance. The actual fighting is almost entirely glossed over in favour of this focus on its impact. Le Guin is interested in exploring the lasting societal violence of colonisation, the damage that remains long after bodies have been buried and forests regrown.
She was thinking of the US war in Vietnam as she wrote Forest, and the parallels are clear. Some of the events in the story are clearly inspired by atrocities such as the My Lai massacre, and the environmental destruction in the novella mirrors the deliberate razing of forests by the US during that war. Even the reaction of humans on Earth who find out about events on Athshe after light-years of delay has parallels to the response to events in Vietnam from Americans an ocean away. Decades later, Le Guin's questions are still pertinent. Unexploded ordinance[1] still litters Vietnam, Cambodia, and neighbouring countries. The tonnes of napalm, agent orange, and other chemicals which the US dumped on South East Asia still have lingering impacts on the people and the environment still there. And that's to say nothing of the societal impact that lingers after the war. Even the United States is still reeling from the impact of a war it fought entirely on foreign soil.
Compare this to Avatar. Cameron seems less interested in the impacts of colonisation, and more in the cool sci-fi battles he gets to orchestrate between humans in mech suits and aliens with spears. Between the first Avatar film and its sequel, the planet of Pandora has essentially been reset to the state it was in when everything kicked off. Sure, good old American boy, and white-saviour protagonist Jake Sully is now considered a member of the indigenous Na'avi, but aside from his presence (and a few ruined mechs rusting in the forest) the Na'avi have gone back to their way of life as though the horrors of the first film were nothing more than a bad dream. The perfect backdrop for another CGI-fuelled action blockbuster!
Cameron has been (rightly) criticised online[2] for saying around the time of the first Avatar's release[3] that the Lakota Sioux may have "fought a lot harder" against their own colonisation if they could have seen their own future (in a particularly offensive aside he referred to the Lakota Sioux as "a dead-end society"). These comments (and his films) suggest that Cameron thinks the impacts of colonisation could be erased, prevented, or undone if colonised peoples had simply fought hard enough against them. Nowhere is Le Guin's acknowledgement of how even a successful anti-colonial struggle will not undo the violence that is inherent in colonisation.
It's in these differing presentations that "The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction" can be found. It's an essay in which Le Guin discusses storytelling, gender, and human society. The eponymous "carrier bag" is a reference to her distinction between stories of early human societies surviving by the strength of the hunter who returns with the flesh of the mammoth to feed his tribe, and the untold but much more realistic story of the carrier bag filled one at a time with foraged mushrooms. Le Guin sees the focus in fiction on heroic battles, masculine warriors, and heart-pounding excitement as an omission of the real foundations of human society, and the work which keeps societies alive. She urges storytellers to shift their focus to the carrier bag, the overlooked (often feminine) labour which underpin human societies.
In case it's unclear, Cameron seems to embody exactly the kind of storytelling that "The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction" opposes. He is an uncurious sensationalist, interested only in the spectacle and drama of whatever action he's able to fit onscreen. His sci-fi colonisation story is really little more than a pretty backdrop for this spectacle. Le Guin, on the other hand is interested in the personal and the social consequences of the violence she depicts. Forest is science-fiction at its best: it uses it explores the history and politics of the world it was written in by mirroring and exaggerating that world in fiction.
The novella has its flaws. I think that her treatment of her indigenous protagonists in particular is imperfect. Le Guin may not be James Cameron, whose films are almost laughable for their repetition of white saviour and noble savage tropes; she is even relatively ahead of her time as a white author writing in the 1970s. But there is a certain simplicity to the society she has created which does it a disservice. It's nothing egregious, and perhaps it's a side-effect of this being a relatively short story, but I imagine indigenous readers might find her depiction of the Athsheans too shallow. Her explorations of gender are also not as interesting as those found in, for example, The Left Hand of Darkness or her Earthsea novels. But there are aspects of ideas found in those novels and "Carrier Bag" to be seen here.
The Word for World is Forest (which I'll call Forest) focuses on the psychological and social impacts of colonisation. A central focus of the book is how the Athsheans, the story's indigenous people, are changed not just by the acts committed by the colonising humans, but by their acts of resistance. The actual fighting is almost entirely glossed over in favour of this focus on its impact. Le Guin is interested in exploring the lasting societal violence of colonisation, the damage that remains long after bodies have been buried and forests regrown.
She was thinking of the US war in Vietnam as she wrote Forest, and the parallels are clear. Some of the events in the story are clearly inspired by atrocities such as the My Lai massacre, and the environmental destruction in the novella mirrors the deliberate razing of forests by the US during that war. Even the reaction of humans on Earth who find out about events on Athshe after light-years of delay has parallels to the response to events in Vietnam from Americans an ocean away. Decades later, Le Guin's questions are still pertinent. Unexploded ordinance[1] still litters Vietnam, Cambodia, and neighbouring countries. The tonnes of napalm, agent orange, and other chemicals which the US dumped on South East Asia still have lingering impacts on the people and the environment still there. And that's to say nothing of the societal impact that lingers after the war. Even the United States is still reeling from the impact of a war it fought entirely on foreign soil.
Compare this to Avatar. Cameron seems less interested in the impacts of colonisation, and more in the cool sci-fi battles he gets to orchestrate between humans in mech suits and aliens with spears. Between the first Avatar film and its sequel, the planet of Pandora has essentially been reset to the state it was in when everything kicked off. Sure, good old American boy, and white-saviour protagonist Jake Sully is now considered a member of the indigenous Na'avi, but aside from his presence (and a few ruined mechs rusting in the forest) the Na'avi have gone back to their way of life as though the horrors of the first film were nothing more than a bad dream. The perfect backdrop for another CGI-fuelled action blockbuster!
Cameron has been (rightly) criticised online[2] for saying around the time of the first Avatar's release[3] that the Lakota Sioux may have "fought a lot harder" against their own colonisation if they could have seen their own future (in a particularly offensive aside he referred to the Lakota Sioux as "a dead-end society"). These comments (and his films) suggest that Cameron thinks the impacts of colonisation could be erased, prevented, or undone if colonised peoples had simply fought hard enough against them. Nowhere is Le Guin's acknowledgement of how even a successful anti-colonial struggle will not undo the violence that is inherent in colonisation.
It's in these differing presentations that "The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction" can be found. It's an essay in which Le Guin discusses storytelling, gender, and human society. The eponymous "carrier bag" is a reference to her distinction between stories of early human societies surviving by the strength of the hunter who returns with the flesh of the mammoth to feed his tribe, and the untold but much more realistic story of the carrier bag filled one at a time with foraged mushrooms. Le Guin sees the focus in fiction on heroic battles, masculine warriors, and heart-pounding excitement as an omission of the real foundations of human society, and the work which keeps societies alive. She urges storytellers to shift their focus to the carrier bag, the overlooked (often feminine) labour which underpin human societies.
In case it's unclear, Cameron seems to embody exactly the kind of storytelling that "The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction" opposes. He is an uncurious sensationalist, interested only in the spectacle and drama of whatever action he's able to fit onscreen. His sci-fi colonisation story is really little more than a pretty backdrop for this spectacle. Le Guin, on the other hand is interested in the personal and the social consequences of the violence she depicts. Forest is science-fiction at its best: it uses it explores the history and politics of the world it was written in by mirroring and exaggerating that world in fiction.
The novella has its flaws. I think that her treatment of her indigenous protagonists in particular is imperfect. Le Guin may not be James Cameron, whose films are almost laughable for their repetition of white saviour and noble savage tropes; she is even relatively ahead of her time as a white author writing in the 1970s. But there is a certain simplicity to the society she has created which does it a disservice. It's nothing egregious, and perhaps it's a side-effect of this being a relatively short story, but I imagine indigenous readers might find her depiction of the Athsheans too shallow. Her explorations of gender are also not as interesting as those found in, for example, The Left Hand of Darkness or her Earthsea novels. But there are aspects of ideas found in those novels and "Carrier Bag" to be seen here.
Conclusion
This hasn't really been a review so much as a comparative essay. Sorry I guess, but I needed to get these thoughts out somehow. If these ideas interested you then I promise this novella is interesting for much more than its comparisons to Avatar. Le Guin's writing is rich with thematic content, and thought-provoking questions. I adore writing which challenges and provokes, and Le Guin (as always) delivers in spades. It's not perfect, but this novella expands the bounds of literature, in worthwhile and fascinating ways.
[1]: https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/the-vietnam-war-is-still-killing-people
[2]: https://www.reddit.com/r/Indigenous/comments/znivxa/so_avatars_james_cameron_referred_to_the_lakota/
[3]: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2010/apr/18/avatar-james-cameron-brazil-dam
[1]: https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/the-vietnam-war-is-still-killing-people
[2]: https://www.reddit.com/r/Indigenous/comments/znivxa/so_avatars_james_cameron_referred_to_the_lakota/
[3]: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2010/apr/18/avatar-james-cameron-brazil-dam
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Racism, Violence, and Colonisation
Moderate: Rape, Sexism, Sexual assault, Sexual violence, Murder, and Fire/Fire injury
Minor: Drug abuse, Drug use, Racial slurs, and Xenophobia
Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
It's hard to express what I liked so much about this book. At times, I found it very difficult to read. Typically not because of the unusual style, the single train of thought. It's actually surprisingly easy to just drift along, letting the words flow over you and through you. But because the novel consists so heavily of the fears and worries and everyday stresses of another ordinary person, it can be very difficult to read when you'd like to get away from your own fears and worries and everyday stresses.
It took me months to read, not because of the length or the density of the writing (although it is a very long book), but because I so often found myself unable to pick it up and worry alongside the narrator. Worry about gun culture and colonialism in the United States, about whether the windows of her house need re-varnishing, about ongoing environmental catastrophe, about whether a person can ever recover from the death of a parent, about what her daughter thinks of her favourite musicals, about the cruelties of industrial poultry farming, and so on for 1000 pages.... It was just difficult to read sometimes.
Despite this, I really would encourage anyone to try the book. Although I was often intimidated by it, I found it to be an immensely rewarding experience. It is an experiment that may not accomplish all it set out to do and may be a lot to take in, but which is exceptionally illuminating for the questions it forces you to ask while reading. I think that anyone who teaches say, an honours-level English literature course, could teach this novel on its own for a semester course, and have new discussions about it with their students for years on end. There is so much in the book to provoke thought and interest and exploration.
Even the most basic aspects of the book provoke interesting questions. There is a glossary of acronyms at the back of the book. I doubt that all of them are used in the book itself, and there isn't a practical reason for the glossary to be there, but it fascinates me! Why is it so important that I, the reader, be able to flip to the back of the book and check the two included definitions of "CGI"? Why have the definitions been "sanitized for your comfort" (for example "POS", is defined "piece of [scat]", square brackets in the original)? Why, since we're asking about the choices made in the book, is it called "Ducks, Newburyport" in the first place? It's a regularly-repeated phrase in the book, but not one that would feel defining or even especially noteworthy if it weren't the title.
There's more to the book than intellectual curiosity. At times I was enthralled, overcome with emotion, or wrapped up in the story (I was actually surprised to discover how much of a narrative there is in the book, because like the everyday stories we tell ourselves, it's a narrative that only really comes together in hindsight). Just the fact that the setting of the novel is so mundane, makes for a unique and charming read. But so much thought has gone into this novel, which elevates it from charming and unusual, to something that I'd urge people to seek out and try.
A decade from now, Ducks, Newburyport might not be remembered as a ground-breaking work of experimental literature. It might not even be a book that I remember or think of often. But right now, I can't stop thinking about how it made me feel, and how it made me think. I really do believe that the most anyone can ask of any book is that it provoke them, at least a little, that it change something about how they think, or make them feel something that they wouldn't have otherwise. In my case, this book has done all that and more.
It took me months to read, not because of the length or the density of the writing (although it is a very long book), but because I so often found myself unable to pick it up and worry alongside the narrator. Worry about gun culture and colonialism in the United States, about whether the windows of her house need re-varnishing, about ongoing environmental catastrophe, about whether a person can ever recover from the death of a parent, about what her daughter thinks of her favourite musicals, about the cruelties of industrial poultry farming, and so on for 1000 pages.... It was just difficult to read sometimes.
Despite this, I really would encourage anyone to try the book. Although I was often intimidated by it, I found it to be an immensely rewarding experience. It is an experiment that may not accomplish all it set out to do and may be a lot to take in, but which is exceptionally illuminating for the questions it forces you to ask while reading. I think that anyone who teaches say, an honours-level English literature course, could teach this novel on its own for a semester course, and have new discussions about it with their students for years on end. There is so much in the book to provoke thought and interest and exploration.
Even the most basic aspects of the book provoke interesting questions. There is a glossary of acronyms at the back of the book. I doubt that all of them are used in the book itself, and there isn't a practical reason for the glossary to be there, but it fascinates me! Why is it so important that I, the reader, be able to flip to the back of the book and check the two included definitions of "CGI"? Why have the definitions been "sanitized for your comfort" (for example "POS", is defined "piece of [scat]", square brackets in the original)? Why, since we're asking about the choices made in the book, is it called "Ducks, Newburyport" in the first place? It's a regularly-repeated phrase in the book, but not one that would feel defining or even especially noteworthy if it weren't the title.
There's more to the book than intellectual curiosity. At times I was enthralled, overcome with emotion, or wrapped up in the story (I was actually surprised to discover how much of a narrative there is in the book, because like the everyday stories we tell ourselves, it's a narrative that only really comes together in hindsight). Just the fact that the setting of the novel is so mundane, makes for a unique and charming read. But so much thought has gone into this novel, which elevates it from charming and unusual, to something that I'd urge people to seek out and try.
A decade from now, Ducks, Newburyport might not be remembered as a ground-breaking work of experimental literature. It might not even be a book that I remember or think of often. But right now, I can't stop thinking about how it made me feel, and how it made me think. I really do believe that the most anyone can ask of any book is that it provoke them, at least a little, that it change something about how they think, or make them feel something that they wouldn't have otherwise. In my case, this book has done all that and more.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death of parent and Colonisation
Moderate: Cancer, Gun violence, Suicide, and Mass/school shootings
Minor: Animal cruelty, Animal death, Body shaming, Child abuse, Child death, Chronic illness, Death, Domestic abuse, Emotional abuse, Genocide, Hate crime, Misogyny, Physical abuse, Racism, Sexism, Sexual violence, Violence, Vomit, Police brutality, Stalking, Murder, and Sexual harassment
That's a lot of content warnings! Most of that content is mentioned in passing, with little more detail than might be in a news headline or summary. It's relatively clinical, and even the topics which appear most often or most directly tend not to be covered in detail. If it's "minor" then it's probably no more distressing than what you'd see in a news feed.
However, loss of a parent, while there are almost no details mentioned, is a very persistent theme. Maybe not "graphic", but it's mentioned almost constantly throughout the almost 1000 pages. I've also given colonisation a "graphic", because of a very explicit quote describing a massacre of native Americans, although as far as I remember, it was an epigraph quote, and the main content of the book was less explicit .
Cancer and gun violence are also mentioned very regularly, and so get a "moderate" even though this is also not graphic. Suicide also gets a "moderate" because at some point an animal witnesses a death by suicide, and while this is described pretty explicitly, the description is relatively detached and naïve about what's happening .