I liked the setup of this book: three Nigerian women reunite after several years apart and come to terms with how their lives have evolved since they I liked the setup of this book: three Nigerian women reunite after several years apart and come to terms with how their lives have evolved since they first met in college. I think Tomi Obaro includes interesting themes related to mother/daughter relationships, privilege or lack of privilege, and the gendered binds women encounter across different national contexts. Unfortunately, I felt like too much of the writing came across as passive voice-ish to me which made it difficult for me to invest in the narrative. Furthermore, I’m not sure the present day setup, followed by a flashback, followed by a very quick flash back to the present day was the most effective character development-wise. Onto the next!...more
Oh wow you all, this gusty searing novel has saved 2023 for me. Post-Traumatic follows Vivian, a Black Latinx lawyer who advocates for mentally ill paOh wow you all, this gusty searing novel has saved 2023 for me. Post-Traumatic follows Vivian, a Black Latinx lawyer who advocates for mentally ill patients at a psychiatric hospital in New York City. Even though she seems ambitious and put-together on the outside, in private she struggles with intrusive memories and overwhelming emotions from her dark and difficult childhood. For years Vivian coped with these difficult thoughts and feelings through obsessive infatuations with men, relentless dieting, dark humor, and smoking weed with her best friend Jane. But when Vivian takes a scary, bold step in relation to her family, all the other parts of her life start to crumble, forcing her to decide just how much she wants to try and heal from her past.
This freaking book. So sad, so dark, and yet so funny at the same time. Vivian, our protagonist, makes the wittiest observations. The book’s official blurb accurately describes Chantal Johnson’s prose as “razor-sharp” which makes Vivian’s humor land like that of a lovingly neurotic yet self-aware friend. Vivian is so problematic throughout most of the novel too; she constantly compares herself to other women and critiques other women’s bodies (even while fiercely identifying with feminist politics on an intellectual level) and does everything she can to appeal to the (often white) male gaze. I imagine readers will feel frustrated with her, like with this passage: “Vivian felt rapturous in Matthew’s bed, high on a drug that couldn’t be bought, only earned: oxytocin! His attention gave her permission to exist. She was desperate not to lose it.” And yet, she’s such a compelling character and Johnson’s writing is so precise I couldn’t stop reading. As a reference point, Vivian’s wit is similar to that of the television show character Fleabag.
I marked over ten passages where I either laughed out loud or smiled and giggled to myself. Here’s one from page 14, when Vivian reflects on not receiving male attention:
“Ambiguity, though central to aesthetic greatness, was horrifying in real life. When a man inflicted it upon you in a romantic context, it highlighted his cowardice and your abjection. They did it casually, like flinging a toddler into a body of water and walking away, insisting calmly that it will swim. Huey Lewis was right, man – if loss of interest is inevitable, just get it over with and leave me, already.”
(The “flinging a toddler into a body of water” literally made me lol. So good, and there are so many other examples!)
At the same time, Chantal Johnson does an excellent job of showing how Vivian’s problematic, women-hating and self-hating tendencies stem from her trauma. Through vivid flashbacks and non-sentimentally heart wrenching conversations with the people in her life, we see how Vivian has suffered through her constantly critical mother and her constantly critical mother’s abusive boyfriends, her sibling who died and her currently-living sibling who faces severe mental illness exacerbated by anti-Black racism, and her attempts to set boundaries and how her family tries to trespass them anyway. All of these personal stressors intersect with Vivian’s identity as a Black Latinx woman residing in the United States. Again, Johnson really shows Vivian’s hypervigilance and the dysfunctional ways she tries to protect herself. I felt right there with her, entertained by her wit while also hoping and hoping for her healing.
And the best part: there is hope at the end of this story, and Vivian does grow as a person. She hits her rock bottom and decides to pursue therapy and make amends with her best friend. Also, can I just say as a former recipient and current provider of therapy, the therapy scenes in this book are so freaking well-written! You may think that an author writing about a character talking to another person about her feelings would be boring, but Johnson’s prose is so impressively taut that she makes those scenes feel so alive and gripping. I’m so grateful that Johnson didn’t just portray Vivian’s suffering and that this book can join the slowly growing set of books that describe therapy both accurately and enthrallingly, like the memoirs What My Bones Know and I’m Glad My Mom Died.
Anyway, wow, 2023 really made me wait for over a month for a five-star read and yet it feels so worth it. As a survivor of trauma and PTSD I resonated with Vivian a lot, not all the specifics of course but the planning, perfectionism, and emotion dysregulation – I’ve been there too! Some of those therapy scenes felt lifted right from when I sat on my first long-term therapist’s couch circa 2015-2017, lol. Johnson disclosed about coming from a violent home in an interview and I’m so grateful to her for writing this book. I wouldn’t be surprised if other PTSD survivors feel the same. Vivian has already secured her place as one of my favorite protagonists ever: her sharp wit, her big heart, and her growth. I get teary-eyed and feel warm and hopeful just thinking about her....more
Groundskeeping centers on Owen Callahan, an aspiring writer who moves back to Kentucky to live with his Trump-supporting uncle and grandfather while hGroundskeeping centers on Owen Callahan, an aspiring writer who moves back to Kentucky to live with his Trump-supporting uncle and grandfather while he tries to cobble together a career. I liked this novel in that the writing felt smooth and easy to read. Lee Cole includes some relevant and interesting themes related to class, social disenfranchisement, and how one accident can negatively alter the course of someone’s life.
At the same time, I felt like Groundskeeping didn’t really say much. “Meandering” captures this novel’s vibe, to me. For example, I feel like Owen, our main character, seems vaguely aware of his white male privilege and his general self-centeredness though he pretty much remains at the same level of critical consciousness and self-centeredness by the end of the novel? Which maybe is how some people are though, I’m not sure what that accomplishes in fiction? I also found his love interest, Alma, daughter of immigrants from Bosnia, rather underdeveloped. It seemed like she functioned as Owen’s love interest solely rather than as someone who has her own desires and ideals, even though Cole did reference her writing career. I found their relationship a little stiff, their communication continually ineffective, and their projection onto one another tiresome as neither of them really addressed their core issues. I also wondered why Alma wanted to date Owen in the first place.
Overall an okay read though not one I’d jump to recommend unless you want to specifically read about a white guy who lives in Kentucky and wants to not live in Kentucky anymore, kind of....more
An interesting set of three stories, each focused on tenants living on different floors of the same upper middle class apartment building in Israel. IAn interesting set of three stories, each focused on tenants living on different floors of the same upper middle class apartment building in Israel. I liked the subtle complexities of the characters’ lives in this collection – an overly possessive father unaware of his own toxically masculine shortcomings, a woman yearning for some connection or excitement in the space left by her absent husband, and a widow trying to reconnect with her estranged son. The characters in Three Floors Up all act in messy and at times self-destructive ways, and Eshkol Nevo humanizes these folks so that their behaviors make sense and warrant some compassion as opposed to coming out of nowhere.
While I found this framing and setup with the apartment complex innovative, I wanted a bit more from the writing and plot in this book. It feels difficult to quantify exactly what felt missing, though I know in the second section I found the narrator’s unreliability unhelpful in cementing the emotional gravity of the story, and in the third story I wanted some sharper prose to drive the feelings of the protagonist’s loss – both of her husband and son – even deeper. I think the first story felt the strongest to me, as we’re immersed in this problematic man’s interpretations of events so that we understand him even when we know he’s at fault.
Okay this book destroyed me and I can’t recommend it enough. The novel follows Tanya and Nessa Bloom, two adult sisters who return to their childhood Okay this book destroyed me and I can’t recommend it enough. The novel follows Tanya and Nessa Bloom, two adult sisters who return to their childhood home for a weekend and realize that their mother, Lorraine, is in a violent relationship. Tanya urges Lorraine to get a restraining order while Nessa struggles to reconcile her fondness for their stepfather with his cruelty toward their mother. Seeing Lorraine’s suffering triggers painful memories for both Nessa and Tanya, related to the abuse they faced in their adolescence. As Lorraine’s situation escalates, Tanya and Nessa are forced to grapple with the legacy of trauma and hurt that follows the women in their family.
First, I found Hanna Halperin’s portrayal of domestic abuse so real and so harrowing. I can see that she worked as a domestic violence counselor because she wrote about the cycle of abuse in so vividly and honestly – the violence, the begging for forgiveness and gifts and false promises of change, the lack of accountability, the violence again, and so on. Halperin writes about the issue without sugarcoating it or glamorizing unhealthy relationships. Her descriptions of how Jesse, the sisters’ stepfather, abuses Lorraine are raw, horrifying, and I think ultimately necessary to shed light on this issue of domestic violence.
I also loved Nessa and Tanya as characters. They’re both so well-written, with distinct personalities that come alive on the page. Nessa is more insecure, shy, and patient with their mother, whereas Tanya is more confident and quicker to anger. My heart broke for both of them as they navigated seeing Jesse abuse their mother. I thought Halperin wrote about the complexity of their bond so well and captured the messy care and hurt that can occur between sisters. She highlights how both of their lives are shaped by various struggles such as their parents’ divorce, sexual violence, and patriarchy broadly. There’s not a convenient or easy ending for either of these characters, though Halperin leaves us with just the tiniest sliver of hope that made my chest literally loosen in relief as I read the final pages of this powerful novel.
Overall, I am so impressed with this debut. I read Halperin’s second book, I Could Live Here Forever, and I gave it four stars. With this book though, I couldn’t rate it any less than five. It’s dark, with brutal depictions of physical abuse and sexual assault. At the same time, by the end of the book I felt so much care for the characters, and I wanted to be updated about their whereabouts and their (hopefully healing) journeys. As someone who’s experienced and witnessed abuse both in my personal and professional live, and as someone who’s worked with survivors of trauma and abuse, this book moved me deeply. It exposes an important issue we need to talk about and work to prevent....more
Whew this one was a swing and a big miss for me. I am totally down for the book's attempt to destigmatize mental illness and show the effect of mentalWhew this one was a swing and a big miss for me. I am totally down for the book's attempt to destigmatize mental illness and show the effect of mental illness on interpersonal relationships. However, I found the writing in Sorrow and Bliss so, so difficult to get through. I felt like the prose was both juvenile and forced, like I could see Meg Mason trying to make the protagonist kind of quirky for the sake of it which irked me. The writing felt both simplistic and at the same time the characters' decisions were baffling or explained in a non-sophisticated way. Again, the quality of the writing was just not great - there are many passages I could share, but I literally jotted down one line where Mason writes "He produced a laugh" which made me cringe.
I was also not a fan of the author's ending note: “The medical symptoms described in the novel are not consistent with a genuine mental illness. The portrayal of treatment, medication, and doctors’ advice is wholly fictional.” I know other people liked this book, but this note really came across to me as a way to dodge accountability. Could Mason have described the research she did to portray mental illness in a nuanced way instead? Anyway, I would not recommend this book....more
Okay I have no idea what happened with these short stories. The writing felt bland and nonspecific, the plots nonexistent, the characters indecipherabOkay I have no idea what happened with these short stories. The writing felt bland and nonspecific, the plots nonexistent, the characters indecipherable and vague. It seemed to me that the author practiced restraint to the point of literally nothing happening, event-wise or character-wise.
I don’t really have more to say about this short story collection so I will recommend some other short story collections I have greatly enjoyed: Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri, Sour Heart by Jenny Zhang, Hunger by Lan Samantha Chang, You Are Not a Stranger Here by Adam Haslett, and Home Remedies (specifically “Vaulting the Sea”) by Xuan Juliana Wang. Check them out and let me know what you think!...more
On one level, I appreciated what Love and Virtue attempted: feminist commentary about sexual assault and gendered power dynamics, as well as complex fOn one level, I appreciated what Love and Virtue attempted: feminist commentary about sexual assault and gendered power dynamics, as well as complex friendships. However, the execution of these concepts felt lacking. First, Diana Reid’s characters reminded me of Sally Rooney’s in terms of having a put-on disaffected tone. I felt like Reid really drove home how her characters try hard not to show that they care about things. Reid’s prose reflected this detachment in a way that maintained distance form me and the characters. Thus, I struggled to connect with the characters even when they went through difficult times. I also felt a little offput by the kinda random mentions of privilege – like these white characters, at least some of whom are thin, will name being white and being thin and then?? Nothing really comes of it?? I’d rather these elements of the characters be shown than told, which, is a component I did like about Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends in terms of class.
Overall I enjoyed some earlier books with similar topics, such as Cracked Up to Be by Courtney Summers and Dreamland by Sarah Dessen more than this novel, though both of those focus on teen girls attending high school and not college like this novel does....more
A book about three Muslim American sisters whose parents both passed away, I liked the honesty in which Fatima Asghar writes about emotional topics: gA book about three Muslim American sisters whose parents both passed away, I liked the honesty in which Fatima Asghar writes about emotional topics: grief, growing up with multiple marginalized identities, and the joys and pains of sisterhood. It’s interesting that Asghar is a poet because the writing itself felt almost too lyrical for me, like the emotions and events weren’t grounded enough in reality (on a prose level, not doubting that these types of things really happen to real.) Even though the novel felt a bit too fragmented and didn’t come together enough for me, it portrays a difficult and real coming of age story that may resonate with others....more
I liked a lot of the themes and messages of Skye Falling, which centers on Skye, a queer Black woman in her late 30s. In particular, I appreciated howI liked a lot of the themes and messages of Skye Falling, which centers on Skye, a queer Black woman in her late 30s. In particular, I appreciated how Mia McKenzie characterized Skye as someone with a lot of heart and humor as well as issues related to attachment and intimacy given the traumatic elements of her childhood. The novel contains many touching moments and relationships between Skye and the woman in her life, both younger and older. The characters grow in ways that feel like progress without minimizing the messiness of healing from difficult family dynamics.
I give this book three stars just because the writing style itself didn’t sit well with me. I found it forced and difficult to get into, thus obscuring the emotional depth of the novel. Again though, enjoyed this book for its characterization of a fun, complex queer Black woman....more
Overall I enjoyed this book! I liked how Elaine Hsieh Chou directly confronts topics of internalized racism and the racist underpinnings of Asian womaOverall I enjoyed this book! I liked how Elaine Hsieh Chou directly confronts topics of internalized racism and the racist underpinnings of Asian woman/white man relationships. I notice people, including fellow Asian Americans, often get defensive and reactive surrounding these issues and it felt refreshing to see a writer address these topics in a holistic and history-informed way. Furthermore, I appreciated seeing our protagonist Ingrid Yang’s growth from someone with a ton of internalized racism into someone who feels more comfortable and interested in fellow Asian Americans. By the end of the book she’s more on her way to contributing to social justice instead of hampering it, thankfully.
I had mixed feelings about the satirical narration of the book. First, I felt that Stephen Greene (Ingrid’s Japan-loving, fetishizing white boyfriend) wasn’t too helpful of a character. While I totally know white people who do fetishize Asian people and I recognize that that’s important to address, I’m concerned that readers might miss the nuance that internalized racism can underlie your attraction to white people *even if the white people aren’t explicitly problematic*. Second, this book really does center whiteness. I see how this book is important for Asian Americans with internalized racism and who want to disentangle themselves from whiteness. However, I hope more books can come out that center Asian Americans without white people being involved at all, similar to the television show Insecure that focuses on the complex, humorous lives on Black millennial adults. Then we can explore deeper topics within the Asian diaspora outside of whiteness. Kelly Loy Gilbert’s young-adult novels When We Were Infinite and Picture Us in the Light stand out to me as examples of Asian American books that center on Asian Americans without undue attention to white people.
An intriguing book that I could see eliciting engaging discussion. Not gonna lie, I really vibed with Vivian Vo and Alex, Eunice’s sister. I did laugh a few times, like when Vivian shares that she’s writing an article “Still Thirsty: Why Boba Liberalism Will Not Save Us” (LOL). Curious what other folks think of this one!...more
I felt immersed in this story about a serial killer, Ansel, and the women in his life – a mother, a sister, and a homicide detective. We lear4.5 stars
I felt immersed in this story about a serial killer, Ansel, and the women in his life – a mother, a sister, and a homicide detective. We learn about Lavender, Ansel’s mother who gave birth to him at the age of 17 at the brink of desperation, Hazel, twin sister to Ansel’s wife who bears witness to how her sister’s romantic relationship escalates in dangerous ways, and Saffy, the detective determined to bring Ansel to justice with a troubled past of her own.
I loved Danya Kukafka’s take on gender and trauma in Notes on an Execution. She weaves in several great themes about toxic masculinity, complicated relationships between women, and contemporary society’s morbid and problematic obsession with serial killers through showing instead of telling, so the characters come first and the messages never feel heavy-handed. Her prose felt fluid and rich with detail, while still concise and clipped enough to keep the suspense churning throughout the novel. I liked how she cultivated empathy for all of her characters, even the atrocious male serial killer, while firmly and justly positioning patriarchy and the restriction of women’s autonomy as core issues that negatively impact both the women and the men in this book.
A couple of elements that further stood out to me: Kukafka’s effective and emotionally affecting portrayal of Ansel’s childhood which contributed to his horrendous actions, as well as the complex sister dynamic between Hazel and her sister Jenny (one of the last passages in which Hazel reflects on Jenny made me tear up.) While I found the book a little overwritten on a handful of occasions – like moments when the vibe of darkness throughout the book felt a bit obvious or much as well as an early scene in which Hazel eats one of Jenny’s hairs which felt a bit drastic in regard to characterization – I still enjoyed the speed of the plot and felt connected to the characters. There’s a lot to discuss in Notes on an Execution and I’m grateful to Kukafka for encouraging us to think and feel critically about how we often normalize women’s suffering at the hands of men, when we, especially men, should take action to prevent violence against women from happening at all....more
Wow, what a ride of a novel. This one reminded me a lot of Disorientation by Elaine Hsieh Chou in terms of how it used satire to make a point. In Wow, what a ride of a novel. This one reminded me a lot of Disorientation by Elaine Hsieh Chou in terms of how it used satire to make a point. In Black Buck, we follow 22-year-old Darren who’s initially content working as a barista, until he gets an offer to join a fancy tech startup in Manhattan. He’s the only Black person in the company and soon enough starts believing in its mission enough to sell the startup’s promise himself. When things in his personal life take a dark turn, he devises a plan to recruit other young Black people to infiltrate America’s sale force, with devastating repercussions.
I think this novel does a fantastic job of raising important, timely questions: what are the personal, moral, and relational costs of advancing in a predominantly white workforce? Is there a way to advance in a capitalistic society that doesn’t involve dehumanization or exploitation? While the tone and execution of Black Buck is very much a satire, Mateo Askaripour conveys the real and serious themes of race and labor underlying all of the novel’s chaos. Like Chou’s in Disorientation, Askaripour’s writing is fluid and entertaining enough to keep folks flipping the pages even as the plot devolves further into absurdity as the story progresses.
A unique novel. Similar to how I felt with Yellowface by R.F. Kuang, I think it can be hard to feel a deep emotional connection to characters when they’re clearly being used to convey a broader social message within a satire. Still, I liked reading Black Buck and can see it stimulating complex conversations....more
I felt so much heart in this novel even though I wanted more from its execution. Olga Dies Dreaming follows Olga and her brother Pedro “Prieto” AcevedI felt so much heart in this novel even though I wanted more from its execution. Olga Dies Dreaming follows Olga and her brother Pedro “Prieto” Acevedo, siblings whose mother, a Young Lord-turned-radical, abandoned them to fight for liberation. Olga now works as a wedding planner for rich people while Prieto represents their gentrifying Latinx neighborhood as a congressman. The story covers a lot of ground: Olga’s dissatisfaction with her career, Prieto’s closeted queerness, Olga’s lack of vulnerability in her romantic relationships, Prieto’s questionable political choices, how their mother’s abandonment affects both of them, and more.
Olga Dies Dreaming explores a lot of interesting ideas. I felt fascinated by the notion of a parent who turns to activism over their own kids (honestly reminding me of some of the emotionally unavailable/harmful leftists I’ve met, oops). The commentaries throughout the book about gentrification felt important and I liked how this book both addressed issues of power and privilege while still saying centered on the siblings’ lives and emotions. Olga and Prieto both grow in tangible ways throughout the novel which increased my satisfaction in reading it.
I give this book three stars because I felt like it tried to do a lot and I’m not sure that worked for me. Some books can do a ton of different things plot-wise and character-wise (I’m thinking of Kelly Loy Gilbert’s books Picture Us in the Light and When We Were Infinite) while still having a core emotional center and I didn’t feel that way with Olga Dies Dreaming. So much happens yet I didn’t really feel emotionally impacted by the events even though I felt happy for Olga and Prieto’s growth. I wonder what it would have felt like if a few of the elements were removed to give the other elements more space to breathe and sink in for the reader. Still, I recognize the appreciable elements of this novel as well as Xochitl Gonzalez’s ambition to try and tackle a lot....more
I liked how this short story collection showcased the complex lives of young women living in South Korea at the intersections of class, generational sI liked how this short story collection showcased the complex lives of young women living in South Korea at the intersections of class, generational status, and mental health. However, I found the writing rather monotonous and therefore the characters difficult to connect with. Choi Eun-young includes interesting ideas throughout the collection (e.g., complexities of mother/daughter dynamics, fathers who are vocal about social justice while letting down their families, how the passage of time affects relationships) though I wish I could have felt more of an emotional pull toward these characters and their lives....more
A fascinating novel set in Tamil Nadu, India, about a boy born with blue skin whose parents raise him to believe that he is a God. The book starts by A fascinating novel set in Tamil Nadu, India, about a boy born with blue skin whose parents raise him to believe that he is a God. The book starts by following Kalki in his youth as he uses his powers to heal people and confronts three trials to prove himself as the tenth human incarnation of Vishnu. However, as Kalki grows older, he begins to question the rigid religious life his father created for him, with severe consequences both for Kalki and for those he loves.
I found the first part of this novel a riveting exploration of the impact of psychological manipulation, both from parent to child as well as from broader swaths of society too. SJ Sindu does an excellent job of embodying Kalki’s perspective, both his innocence as well as his growth in perspective as he gains bits of exposure into worlds outside of his own. Kalki’s father aptly represented patriarchal control and domination. Sindu weaves in commentaries about sexual fluidity, casteism, and colorism throughout the book in meaningful ways that did not feel overbearing.
I feel like the latter third of the book or so felt rushed. While I considered the book’s first half or two thirds more richly textured, this last section came across as underdeveloped to me. While I suppose this vibe may match the chaotic energy of the New York City setting, I found Kalki’s characterization suddenly shallower and more predictable as well as the intricacies of his relationships less immersive. Though this latter portion of Blue-Skinned Gods stripped some of its magic for me, I still appreciate Sindu’s efforts in crafting a unique and enthralling story....more
Oh I loved this one. It’s a slice-of-life, quiet, character-driven novel about Nina Dean, a 32-year-old successful food writer who gets ghosted by an Oh I loved this one. It’s a slice-of-life, quiet, character-driven novel about Nina Dean, a 32-year-old successful food writer who gets ghosted by an attractive man. Even with a great career and loving friends and family, Nina feels despondent by this man’s entrance and exit from her life. Not only does she navigate this ghosting-induced heartache, she also contends with her dad’s worsening illness and conflict with her longtime childhood friend. In Ghosts we follow Nina as she navigates friendship, romance, family, and more.
Before I gush into how freaking relatable I found this book, I’ll start with some of its basic strengths. I found Dolly Alderton’s writing compulsively readable. Her prose felt simple yet consistently enjoyable. Her main characters came across as believable – especially their dialogue – and I found every scene in the novel well-constructed and engaging. I think she does a nice job of fitting in interesting insights about relationships, heteronormativity, and gender in a way that wasn’t distracting from the story or the characters. I also laughed out loud multiple times so I’m grateful to Alderton for the humor she infused into these pages.
I have to admit that my five star rating largely stems from how relatable I found this book to my own life. I’m self-obsessed sometimes I must admit! But, yeah, as a 28-year-old (turning 29 in May wow) genderqueer person who has a thriving career and amazing friends, who’s attracted to men and been romantically single my whole life and hurt by men in dating contexts, I found this novel so relatable. Just the vibe of it honestly – like having your life so together in one context (e.g., Nina and I are rocking our work lives) and then having the worst luck in other contexts (e.g., dating men… though honestly many men aren’t socialized to be date-worthy anyway). I found so many of her subtle observations about friendship, the heteronormative dating game, and relationships spot on and things I’ve thought and felt before, like how a lot of women/femmes are socialized into really wanting marriage and to self-sacrifice and lower our standards for it even if we’re outwardly advocate for social justice in other areas of life. Also, I’m grateful that Alderton captured the atrocious ways men can treat people in dating and relational contexts (and I know people of diverse gender identities can be awful relationally, this just speaks to me as someone who’s been hurt by men). At the same time, Nina takes accountability for her own idealization of the man she meets, which I appreciated.
Anyway, I’m grateful for this novel, my first five-star read of 2024. Reading this book also made me feel grateful for my closest friends, all of whom question the wedding industrial complex and heteronormativity and embody relationship anarchy at least in some way. At the same time, I’m literally the only one in my friend group who hasn’t dated a man (which honestly, I’m probably better off for having not done so lol) so Ghosts spoke to me in that regard. I acknowledge that the concerns faced by both Nina and I are on the privileged end of things given the many atrocities in the world right now. At the same time, it was reassuring and affirming to read about a woman who has a healthy relationship with herself, who knows herself, and who finds comfort both from her community and herself as she navigates life’s ups and downs....more
I appreciated the representation of a queer Korean man living in Seoul, as well as the sensitive rendering of his STI. Beyond that though, I struggledI appreciated the representation of a queer Korean man living in Seoul, as well as the sensitive rendering of his STI. Beyond that though, I struggled to feel invested in Love in the Big City. Mainly, our protagonist has several romantic relationships with men where I struggled to understand what drew him to these men in the first place. Our main character possesses a distinctly brash voice yet not much else about him – hobbies, particular vulnerabilities aside from general attachment issues, early life experiences – stood out to me, so I couldn’t figure out why he and his romantic partners felt drawn to one another. These romantic relationships also all came across as pretty unhealthy or filled with unresolved miscommunication. While these types of relationships do exist, I didn’t detect any trend toward growth in any of the main character’s relationships nor any growth from the main character himself.
I liked the more rigorous development of the main character’s relationship with his best friend Jaehee as well as his difficult relationship with his mother, though neither of these relationships felt explored to a satisfying level either. The character does a lot of things though his internal exploration felt lacking. In my opinion, a disappointing novel aside from its value in promoting queer representation....more
Found this one a bit dry, unfortunately. In Ghost Forest Pik-Shuen Fung delves into some deep themes related to family, loss, and navigating grief. ThFound this one a bit dry, unfortunately. In Ghost Forest Pik-Shuen Fung delves into some deep themes related to family, loss, and navigating grief. There were a few passages in the novel that touched me, like when the protagonist recognizes her previously one-dimensional view of her father and tries to make amends, even if only internally. However, the prose in this novel didn’t excite me or for the most part even move me – it all felt a bit safe and bland on the page. Weike Wang’s Joan is Okay comes to mind as a book with similarish themes centering a Chinese American woman, with a bit more punch and voice, as well as Elaine Hsieh Chou’s Disorientation, about a Taiwanese American woman though with a way more satirical and bombastic slant than this novel....more
I ended up really enjoying this novel about a Cameroonian immigrant family living in New York City, fighting for their chance to secure the “American I ended up really enjoying this novel about a Cameroonian immigrant family living in New York City, fighting for their chance to secure the “American Dream.” I liked the realistic and sobering way Imbolo Mbue portrayed these characters’ struggles, namely their financial precarity and their immigration status. At the same time Mbue imbues her characters with honest desires to make a better life for themselves and those they love. Though the writing style took me a little while to get used to, by about midway in the book I found myself invested in the characters and curious to know where they would go and what would happen to them. Behold the Dreamers does a nice job of conveying the hardships faced by immigrants in the United States, as well as the emotional complexities of whether to stay or to leave what you know behind....more
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