This essay is a beautiful reflection on death and the complicated relationships of family, particularly with the family you marry into. "Her desire to avoid speaking honestly about complicated feelings was equal to my desire to do the opposite." Cheryl Strayed has a way with picking the correct details to include to really add color to the themes and emotions she's exploring, highlighting the differences between herself, her husband, and her mother-in-law. She's not sparse in her writing, but she also isn't too wordy. Just another poignant piece of writing from her, I really enjoyed it and can see myself revisiting it.
Not quite what I was hoping for in terms of a cozy mystery—it has a lot of the right elements, but as a whole, it falls flat. For one, there is a lack of tension to the core mystery(ies) they're trying to solve; the book meanders so much between all the characters that you kind of lose track of what's happened and who the potential suspects are so that you don't feel that thread of tension pulling you along to find out what happens and then, when you do get moments that progress it, they pack less of a punch. I also found the resolutions to the mystery lackluster because the characters and world felt slightly underdeveloped. The only characters in the Thursday Murder Club I feel really get enough time to shine are Elizabeth and Joyce, and Joyce's diary entries get old quickly and don't really benefit the story, which made me dislike her a bit. I liked Elizabeth, and I wish we'd gotten more of Ibrahim, as he seems to be meant to be the analytical thinker/brains of the group, but we barely get any moments that allow him to showcase that. That's maybe one of the bigger failings of the book—each member isn't really given enough to do with their signature trait/characteristic, and in turn, I don't buy the moments when Osman tries to act as though those characteristics played a natural and inevitable part in something happening. I just wish overall this had been more. I wouldn't be opposed to reading the second one and seeing if maybe he's made some improvements now that he's gotten the initial introductory work out of the way.
I didn't enjoy this one as much as Anxious People, but it still has so many of the signature elements of a Fredrik Backman novel—quirky characters that are annoying initially but lovable once you get to know them, wordy prose that flows well, lines that hit on something universal and profound. I didn't love reading from the perspective of a child, though, as it creates an odd mix of tones, where we sometimes feel like we're observing something from a much more mature perspective but then revert back to a limited perspective and vocabulary at other moments. I also don't love when an author writes such specific cultural references into a book; in this case, Backman couldn't have known what would happen with JK Rowling and, in turn, Harry Potter, but even without the tarnished legacy, it's still a bit cringeworthy when Elsa constantly talks about how great Harry Potter is and compares everything against it as if its the epitome of great literature. Admittedly, this goes back to my point about reading from a kid's perspective; I can understand how a child might think this way (I'm sure I did at one point, too), but it doesn't make it less annoying. The book also feels quite long, unnecessarily so at times, and because of that, didn't flow quite as well for me; I did not find myself constantly reaching to pick this up and continue the story, which I did feel with Anxious People. Overall, not bad, not great, definitely enjoyable enough to warrant a read, and I'll still be reading his others.
Yes, I was reading this in public a lot at first and yes, I did decide not that far in that maybe it was best I read it at home so I could cry comfortably, in peace. I guess a lot of people came to this book because they'd heard Japanese Breakfast's music and wanted to read Michelle's story, but I hadn't heard of them before and was instead drawn to it because of the general hype. I like memoirs, and I like crying, so what more could I ask for? I think Zauner has written an excellent reflection of what it feels like to have to not only say goodbye to a parent at a young age but also to become their caretaker, to step into a reversal of roles that feels odd and maybe even impossible until it isn't. I loved reading about her relationship with her mother and her exploration of how it changed over time, for better and worse. I loved (and hated) the small observations she makes throughout her time caring for her mother, realizing in the moment and in hindsight as she recalls events that she was witnessing a lot of her mother's "lasts". There's no easy way to lose someone you love, especially to an illness as ravaging and unrelenting as cancer, and there's also no easy way to grieve that type of loss. All in all, this is an excellent meditation on loss and growing up, and I really enjoyed it.
I like the twist on the story, but why are we three chapters in and Darcy is this flirty, nice guy with Oliver? I think Novoa has set up a potentially cute love story here and these characters would be interesting on their own, but I can't get past who they're based on and how underwhelming this feels in paying homage to the original.
Well, this book absolutely destroyed me. Giovanni's Room is my first Baldwin, and it's beautifully written with characters that feel unique, but still real and well developed. I suppose there's no way this could have been a happy story considering it's about queer people in the 1950s, and really the brutality of the story reflects how dark and bleak life was for them at that time; primarily, Baldwin focuses on gay men and life from their perspective through the eyes of the main character, David. First of all, this story was illuminating for me because it provides a window into queer life 70 years ago. Obviously this story is fiction, but its core themes and many of David's experiences are drawn from Baldwin's life. It's fascinating to see, aside from some obvious differences with the times, just how many parallels there are between the struggles young queer people faced then and what they face now. Doubt, denial, disgust, self hate, suicidal thoughts and ideation, living this odd double life where you indulge your desires while simultaneously disassociating, seeing your actions as other from your identity, wishing you could be "normal" and maybe even trying to be in spite of the lack that life will leave you with. In true form to the queer experience, reading this book both gave me comfort in relating to this specific experience, to what feel like my people, and broke my heart knowing what that experience must have been like.
For a fairly short book, Giovanni's Room packs a huge punch and is a gold mine for literary analysis. Baldwin, in spite of having pretty terse prose, weaves these beautiful themes and motifs throughout that all intersect and complement each other. The idea of home as this place David wants to return to yet has never actually had in the sense of what he yearns for, the theme of otherness and lack of identity that David feels in how he's perceived as a foreigner and as a straight man, the violence of masculinity and self-repression, among so many others. The text is so rich with all of these really well thought out ideas, and I think that is in large part due to Baldwin's intrinsic understanding of what it feels like to be a gay man and to have lived with those struggles. Obviously there's imagination on display here in crafting these characters, but the depth of the story comes from a place of real pain and experience. This is a masterwork from Baldwin, and it seems like he is the only one who could have told this story.
This book made me feel nerdy again and want to write an essay. I can't wait to read it again in the future and see what new insights I can mine from it.
I'm glad I was never assigned this because I'm not sure I could have appreciated it as much in high school or even college. The language and style are, admittedly, not the most accessible, particularly in comparison to modern books; the common vocabulary of Austen's era was much stronger than it is now, and it can be difficult to adjust to the superfluous nature of how the narrator and characters convey even the simplest of thoughts. But this style is also what makes this such a cozy and pleasant read; I absolutely loved falling into the flow of the sentences and found the roundabout ways characters would speak to have this really elegant and satisfying effect. The characters are well developed and lovable (at least, the ones that Austen intends to be are), and I really enjoyed reading about their trials and tribulations in navigating society at that time. I've heard some people say it's boring, and I guess to each their own, but you cannot argue that there are plenty of complexities not just in the order of the world Austen has captured but also in the way people communicate, through what they do and don't say and in their body language. She does such an excellent job of capturing these nuances and creating drama and tension out of them. This is going into the favorites and is one I know I'll revisit in the future.
Hmm...well, I really liked this book to start out. Confirmed, I'm definitely a sucker for dark academia - college is such a pivotal, unique moment in one's life, full of hope, despair, and curiosity, and combining that with murder, it's hard not to be pulled into the story. But as I read on, I grew annoyed with the melodrama of it all and how much of a caricature the main "villain" was. I realize a huge point of this book is to play into that drama because these are stage actors obsessed with Shakespeare, but it ended up feeling like all drama no character development a lot of the time. Starting especially with the scenes leading up to and when the death occurs onward, the book was just a mix of that - me being interested for bits of it and then annoyed and pushing through for the other parts. I found most of the characters insufferable by the end, especially Oliver; they'd each repeat the same behaviors again and again with no growth, and if a character needed to shift their personality and become mysteriously different, Rio would just take them "off screen", which took away some of the stakes and made these shifts less believable. And after all of that, the ending was unsatisfying. Overall, I didn't hate it, didn't love it, wouldn't read it again.
A Western, magical realist Kill Bill. I really enjoyed this! Ming is an overall likeable main character, even if he's flawed and on this murderous quest for vengeance, and the cast of characters in the traveling magic show are all well developed and challenge and highlight different elements of Ming's character. The story has great pacing and a sparse writing style, which works well to establish the vibe Tom Lin seems to be going for. I do think some of themes Lin aims to explore, like racism during this time period and Ming's relationship to it, are a little underdeveloped, though what we do get of it in the leader of the magic show is really compelling. And though the ending wasn't a surprise by any means, it felt satisfying. All in all, really solid book, especially for a debut.