This is a tricky one to review. It's not a new story (it was originally written in the 40s), nor is it especially original: I think4 and a half stars.
This is a tricky one to review. It's not a new story (it was originally written in the 40s), nor is it especially original: I think star-crossed lovers must be the oldest story in the world. But this one is written with such melancholy, longing, introspection and quiet passion that it turned out to be unlike any story of love lost I have read before.
A quiet, very lonely young man from Turkey goes to Berlin in the late 1920s, in order to study so he can eventually take over his father's business back in his home country. One day, he walks into a gallery and becomes fascinated with a painting called "Madonna in a Fur Coat", a self-portrait of an artist named Maria. He goes to see the painting every day, piquing the artist's curiosity as to whom could be so admiring of her work, and she goes to sit next to him in the gallery.
Both characters are adrift in their lives, searching for something that would make their strange existence worth living, but neither knows what that could be, or how to deal with it when it finally lands in their lives. The story of their few weeks, the many missed opportunities, and of the inevitable tragic dénoument is told so poignantly, with such deep regret that it's impossible not to be moved and frustrated by it. Even if I knew how this would end, I kept hoping that the next page would prove me wrong, and that once these two lonely souls had found each other, they wouldn't be torn apart.
A short, deeply affecting read. I know its a translation, but it is gorgeously written, and will leave heartbreaking sepia images in your head when you flip the final page....more
This was a fast and pleasant read! I am a sucker for all things 1920, so when you tell me that this book is as if Hitchcock and Highsmith had a baby nThis was a fast and pleasant read! I am a sucker for all things 1920, so when you tell me that this book is as if Hitchcock and Highsmith had a baby named Zelda, I am going to have to read it. I love damaged characters, unreliable narrators and weird twisty stories. “The Other Typist” checks all the boxes!
Unfortunately, it wasn’t an amazing read because of a few things which can be chalked up to first novel problems. It felt to me like there was some historical fact and references that were a bit heavy-handed. Like someone name dropping all over the place… I’m a fan of the Fitzgeralds too, I saw what you did there *wink wink* I was also bothered by the excessive foreshadowing, but this might be more about Rose, the narrator, being an attention-whore, than about a rookie writer faux pas. The slight overindulgences in terms of exposition, however, make it a touch too heavy if you factor in the piles of “If I knew then what I know now…”. It’s just a touch too melodramatic for my taste.
But I have to give it to Suzanne Rindell: she kept me guessing until the end and she gave her narrator a very creepy voice. Reading “The Other Typist” felt like listening to an asylum patient explain why they are not crazy as someone tightens the straps of their straight-jacket. The relationship between Odalie and Rose is chilling and toxic: the manipulation, seduction, obsession. It was all so alluringly sick, I loved it! I think I have a soft spot for sociopaths, at least on the page. Not to mention the descriptions of gorgeous flapper outfits, speakeasies and opulent hotel rooms! Gawd! It made me feel like I should have been wearing my pearls and sparkly headband while reading.
I’ve read a lot of comments about the end being confusing. I really didn’t find anything that confusing about it, but I do think the author could have done a slightly better job at making it a little clearer. I won’t spoil it, but I feel the final few pages are the ones to be believed.
I recommend it to those looking for a fun, creepy psychological page-turner: just don’t expect it to live up to either the stories of Tom Ripley or Jay Gatsby. Also, if you fancy trying the champagne cocktail described in the book, pour 1 ounce of absinthe in a champagne flute and top with sparkling wine: it’s called a Death in the Afternoon and it’s delicious!...more
I want to say, first and foremost, that I really enjoyed this novel. The prose is elegant and gorgeously sensual. The story of Einar/Lili an3 ½ stars.
I want to say, first and foremost, that I really enjoyed this novel. The prose is elegant and gorgeously sensual. The story of Einar/Lili and his/her wife is touching, poignant and heartbreaking. Once I turned a blind eye to the crapload of historical and factual inaccuracies that pepper the book, I found myself fascinated with the story and characters. But please bear in mind that while it is often marketed as a “true love story”, that’s just not what it is.
My knowledge of what being transgender is like is very limited. All I know of it, I got from second or third hand accounts and mass media: I’m cis-gendered and straight(ish) and I can’t even imagine what it must be like to live in a body that feels alien to you. It’s already so damn difficult to be oneself in this world; this book is about what wanting to be your true self can really mean, and how far the love of a spouse can take you on that journey. But it’s also about the heartbreaking potential consequences, how far you can stretch love and a marriage when something this drastic changes. Unconditional love, wanting to let someone be exactly who they are no matter what, supporting them no matter what crazy decisions they make… That’s the role of a true partner/spouse. Greta’s tenderness, loyalty and sacrifice made my heart swell up as she helps Einar get familiar with Lili, and when he takes the life-changing decision of becoming Lili permanently.
The writing is very atmospheric and the descriptions are lush: you feel everything Ebershoff writes. The idea of Lili being a part of Einar that surfaces occasionally and then retreats before he accepts her as who he really is, is described with great sensitivity and finesse: I’m sure this can’t be an easy subject-matter to tackle for a writer who hasn’t experienced that transformation first-hand, and I think it was handled in a very open-minded and positive way.
The complexity of the relationship between Einar/Lili and Greta is fascinating. Their mutual love is obvious, and their struggle to be there for each other despite their now conflicting needs is very touching: they are a completely devoted couple with strong personalities and their journey is not smooth sailing, but you know how much they care for each other every step of the way.
The movie adaptation is visually stunning, and it is pretty faithful to the book: a few of my annoyances have actually been corrected in the silver screen version! Not to mention that the acting performances are stellar: it’s an absolute must-see.
(My historical accuracy nitpicking, which you should feel free to ignore: I am not sure I get the point of turning “Gerda” into Greta and making her American when she was actually Danish. The characters of Hans and Henrik being fictitious bothered me a lot less because it was the perfect way to bring some of Einar’s memories, backstory and exploration of his “Lili-self” into the narrative. But changing the wife’s name and nationality seemed strained. Maybe it was to illustrate her “otherness” or to flesh out her character more because not that much is known about the real Gerda Gottlieb? Either way, it didn’t feel natural. The book also ignores the fact that Einar’s transition led to the annulment of his marriage to Gerda. OK, I’m done bitching: the book is still great!)...more
This book has everything it needed to make me fall in love with it, and it worked. I am obsessed with the roaring 20’s, I love fairy tale retellings, This book has everything it needed to make me fall in love with it, and it worked. I am obsessed with the roaring 20’s, I love fairy tale retellings, I worship beautiful language and I yearn for magic. Enter Catherynne M. Valente. The woman who writes as if she lived in my dreams…
“Speak Easy” is a short, stunning novella retelling the “Twelve Dancing Princesses”, a fairy tale I hadn’t even hear of before, using thinly disguised versions of Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald as the main characters. This is what might happen if “The Great Gatsby” had been written by an bathtub gin-drunk Hans Christian Andersen.
The tone may take some getting used to. Valente chose to tell this story with the voice of a third-person omnipotent narrator who sounds an awful lot like a slang-loving, bootlegging genie from 1924. It’s poetic, sexy, full of colorful images and evocative metaphors: not always easy to follow, but oh so gorgeous to read out loud. I loved the ornate, decadent, whimsical language and word play!
“Zelda Fair rolled back in the tub, water breaking over her tummy, rolling down her throat. She called him with one crooked finger and the boy in the silver meringue suit skedaddled over on the quick. She crooked her finger again. He bent down. The reek of gin snaked up his nose – she was swimming in the booze supply. Her pearly dress stuck like an oil slick to her breasts; the drying liquor on her shoulders made her skin prickle.”
Gawd damn! I wish I could write like that!!
In a wild city that just may be New York, the Hotel Artemisia plays host to the wildest parties, the most powerful men, the most beautiful girls and the very best bootleg liquor. This Eden for sinners of all kind is ran by Al, a man who just may be some sort of Faerie King. A young talented girl named Zelda takes up residence at the Artemisia, to party as much as she can while also trying to figure out who she is and what she is capable of. Frankie is a bellhop with literary ambitions who falls madly in love with the flamboyant Zelda, and who will use the Artemisia’s magic to make her talent his.
Valente here seems to join the in with the theory that Scott Fitzgerald stole a significant amount of his writing from his wife and tried as hard as he could to silence her and take credit for her work – a possibility experts have entertained for a while. Valente’s version made my heart break because of the real Zelda’s tragic fate (a life-long struggle with schizophrenia and eventual death when the psychiatric hospital she was committed to burnt down) and because of the surreal language with which she describes the wicked game in which Frankie takes her talent away from her.
The opulent language and lush descriptions, fantastical characters and sing-song prose of this lovely little book can all be absorbed in a single sitting. But be prepared to be haunted by the voice of the Artemisia and the story it will tell you....more
Updated review after a second reading in November 2018.
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"I used to look up at night and dream of the solar system."
Ms. Valente wrote the kind of bookUpdated review after a second reading in November 2018.
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"I used to look up at night and dream of the solar system."
Ms. Valente wrote the kind of book I wish I could write, and for that I am both in awe of her, and kinda pissed off. Seriously, the woman took some of my all-time favorite things, chucked them in a blender and then wrote this book.
A documentary film maker goes missing while she is shooting her final project, about a mysteriously deserted colonial settlement on Venus. Her story is pieced together through movies, depositions, hard-boiled detective style remembrances and her own “video diary” entries. It sounds choppy and yes, you must pay attention to the dates of the various entries to not get confused, but Catherynne Valente knows just how to weave all these elements together to form a beautiful, completely original story.
The world Valente crafted for “Radiance” is an alternate Earth where the Golden Age of Hollywood has remained one of silent black and white movies because of patent wars, where humanity has explored the solar system and colonized all its planets, where the “milk” of mysterious Venusian creatures known as callow whales is what enables humans to experience space travel safely, and where making documentary movies is considered “genre” because everyone is so obsessed with lurid fantasy that it's now the mainstream. Of course, that can be too rich for some readers’ blood, and I can’t really blame them. But I am an absolute glutton for this deco-punk phantasmagoria.
I enjoyed this novel immensely, and while it is not perfect, it has a fairy tale/sci-fi/what-the-hell-is-going-on vibe to it that just blew me away. I kept thinking of the Georges Meliès movies, the exaggerated movements and expressions, the surreal plot lines and beautiful cardboard sets… I loved the non-linear, patchwork flow of the book and the alternate history where inter-planetary travel is just as H.G. Wells might have imagined it.
The narrative is a postmodern mosaic (I seem to be reading a lot of those lately…) and its a colorful, glittery literary puzzle, and it is also a love letter to silent films, to a certain dramatic aesthetic that went out of fashion but for which Valente clearly still pines.
It is dizzying, occasionally frustrating; but I also found it dazzling and exuberant. This is not really an escapist read, it’s a book that you need to chew on a bit. I’ve come to find that those are the books I usually end up enjoying the most, the challenging ones, the ones that require patience and brains.
I enjoyed (and probably understood) this novel even more the second time around! If you are a fan of Valente, or are looking for a book that’s unlike anything you’ve read before, this might just be what you are looking for!...more
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