Retro Review: No Time to Spare

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. "I’ve never liked the word blog—I suppose it is meant to stand for bio-log or something like that, but it sounds like a sodden tree trunk in a bog, or maybe an obstruction in the nasal passage (Oh, she talks that way because she has such terrible blogs in her nose)."

Ursula K. Le Guin had a blog. Ursula K. Le Guin had a blog. That simple statement to me epitomizes her intelligence, attitude, and love of writing. The fact that she recognized and tried a new form of writing - in her eighties - makes her a revolutionary figure. A charming, witty revolutionary figure. And holy moly, she was so wise.

No Time to Spare is terrific. It's informal, but not sloppy. Le Guin is funny, sharp, deeply observant, and wonderful to read. She includes anecdotes, insights, musings, and more. I felt keenly her love of words and writing and literature and storytelling and poetry and questions and themes and mystery and birds and cats. I wish I had never finished it. I wish she had never finished. I adore her advice and intelligence. I will probably return to this every year - as often as I can, more likely - to learn from her.

I recommend this collection for cat-lovers, story-lovers, and grin-lovers. By that I mean, people who love to grin. But it isn't all stories and smiles. There are pointy passages about politics and history and human nature. By weaving threads of anger and fear throughout her words, Le Guin emerges as more than a skilled author. She's a kindred spirit, a wise sage, Grandmother Willow. A perceptive, grasping, sensible champion. She will be missed.

No Time to Spare on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Cloud Atlas

5 stars. This book is the most beautiful, breathtaking gut punch. It's a piece of literary genius; philosophical and compelling. It made me feel small - in a good way, like when I visit New York or Tokyo or stand next to the ocean. I was captivated, almost against my will, and I can't wait to read it again and again and again.

Allow me to write a longer summary than usual. It will help me sort through the plot and the themes. SPOILERS TO FOLLOW.

Cloud Atlas collects the stories of six individuals and presents them in a puzzle box. The first story, THE PACIFIC JOURNAL OF ADAM EWING, takes place in the mid-1800s and follows a notary traveling from the Chatham Isles to California. HIs narrative ends abruptly and the book shifts to LETTERS FROM ZEDELGHEM, a collection of letters from a bisexual composer to his lover, reporting on his many amusing exploits of the 1930s. This composer encounters a copy of Adam Ewing's journal and is fascinated.

The book then shifts again to HALF-LIVES, THE FIRST LUISA REY MYSTERY, a pulpy thriller about a feisty journalist and her quest to expose a corporation for playing fast and loose with the safety precautions on their nuclear reactor. Rey, in the midst of dodging 1970s clichés and cliffhangers, comes across the composer's letters from the previous section and is desperate to find the rest.

Falling into place, yet? I know, it's great.

Leaving Luisa's fate unknown, we shift to modern times to read THE GHASTLY ORDEAL OF TIMOTHY CAVENDISH, the memoir of an elderly publisher who gets trapped in a nursing home against his will (and ... is sent the first half of a manuscript about Luisa Rey). Cavendish is colorful and - honestly, a little grotesque - but we root for him all the same.

Number five reveals AN ORISON OF SONMI-451, the transcript of an interview with a clone from the far future. Sonmi has "ascended" - she has taught herself to think and feel, and in her own transcendent way attempts to right the wrongs she sees in the world. She also enjoys the first half of the movie version of Cavendish's ghastly ordeal.

Lastly we read SLOOSHA'S CROSSIN' AN' EV'RYTHIN' AFTER. Civilization has fallen. The human population has fractured into isolated tribes living off the earth and avoiding savages. Zachry, a goatherder, worships Sonmi like a god, though he and his people don't understand her origins or the true context of her declarations. 

And then we switch back to Sonmi, who declares in the last moment of her interview that she'd like to watch the rest of the movie about Timothy Cavendish. Cavendish escapes his nursing home prison and reads the second half of the manuscript about Luisa Rey. Luisa survives several ridiculous threats, including a hit man, a bombing and a shootout on a boat to obtain the rest of the composer's letters. The composer, in the last moments of his life, reads the final chapters of Adam Ewing's journal, who closes with “My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?” 

There is, admittedly, a ton to unpack here. My observations and thoughts are as follows:

First - David Mitchell can write anything he wants. Each segment of this book is carefully crafted and completely different. Each character has a distinguishable voice (in some cases, literally) - which is so rare! He emulates styles and forges his own. He can be irritating, and meta as hell, but Cloud Atlas is so fucking impressive. I would've loved to study this in college just so I could discuss and understand everything about it from the word choice to the philosophical questions to the structure.

Second - theeeeeeeeeemes. Theme city. Themes everywhere, as far as the eye can see. Mitchell infuses his work with explorations of the primitive vs. the civilized; nature vs. nurture; sacrifice; power; slavery; mortality ... and all of them - for the most part - bonk you on the head: "Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future." "Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty." Etc. Yeah, there isn't a lot of subtlety here. But it's not bad. It's just heavy and philosophical and leaves you full of joy and sadness at the same time.

Cloud Atlas isn't perfect, I know. It requires commitment and patience and a high tolerance for tricky dialogue, and at times is a little too clever for its own good. It was a rewarding read for me, though, almost comforting. I think I understand the questions it asks and tries to answer. I can't wait to read it again and pull out the details I missed - and to just fall into that world again, even for a moment. After all, “Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.” 

Cloud Atlas on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Night Film

5 stars. What a fucking amazing premise. What a good idea. I'm so in awe of this fantastic, inspired plot. The first 100 pages gave me chills. 

I mean.

The 24-year-old daughter of a reclusive cult filmmaker, also a classically trained pianist, commits suicide - and a disgraced investigative journalist decides to poke around the case. 

I mean!!

Also - I had no idea this was semi-epistolary when I picked it up, but I so, so appreciated the articles and slide shows and extra details. They demonstrated the author's special care for exposition here and made the story seem that much more real.

However. About a quarter of the way through this I started to really lose faith in the characters. The protagonist starts out as the surly but charming ex-journalist who flirts with rebellion but is ultimately credible. And then he flies way past surly and way past charming and becomes a sort of arrogant asshole who makes ridiculous choices and demonstrates absolutely zero common sense.

And then we have his two sidekicks, Nora and Hopper, who - again - fly right past charming/quirky and right into weirdo territory. 

Compelling, nonetheless. We have an incredibly rich tapestry here, and in fact the author excels at weaving superb minor characters in with her less-than-impressive major ones. We have gorgeous sequences with gorgeous writing on classical music, on film, on black magic, on secret clubs (and that's just the first half). 

It's like the author made a mood board and then somehow incorporated into her story every. single. thing. she had tacked up. There's old Hollywood, sister feuds, puzzle boxes, demonic possession ... satanic rituals ... It's artistic and heartpounding and, beyond all that, a pretty solid mystery.

Ultimately, I really and truly recommend this book. It's a classic rabbit hole tale - except reaching the bottom isn't the point. It's more of an ode - a testament to - the rabbit hole itself. Enjoy. Embrace the darkness. Embrace the descent. You won't regret it.

Night Film on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Picnic at Hanging Rock

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. How unexpectedly wonderful! I'm delighted! I don't know what I expected - perhaps something slightly pulpier / amateur, but this book is built on some seriously sophisticated writing. It's old school in a way that's completely charming - not so old school that it feels archaic or stale or stuffy.

Joan Lindsay weaves a dark and thrilling tale of disappearance, murder, insanity, and potential forces in the universe beyond our comprehension. She plays with time, nature and mystery - all three intensify into something sinister and disturbing. She's extremely skilled at infusing her characters with strong, tenacious identities (a few of which she is sharply critical) and also extremely funny. "Except for those people over there with the wagonette we might be the only living creatures in the whole world,’ said Edith, airily dismissing the entire animal kingdom at one stroke."

Her nature writing is luxurious and rich. She paints a wonderful and transporting atmosphere through which this simple story swirls and juts and penetrates. There's tension amidst all that beauty and natural splendor. It grows and grows until the very end, at which point I was genuinely shocked.

Picnic at Hanging Rock radiates possibility. I don't believe in magic, spirits, the supernatural ... but this book made me sort of sit back and go, why not? The answer to its central mystery could be uncanny, or there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation. The beauty of this book is that I walked away convinced it could go either way. 6 out of 5 stars.

Picnic at Hanging Rock on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Eileen

5 stars. Eileen, Eileen, Eileen. I'm in love. I'm completely blown away. I am changed forever because now I know what honest writing looks like. 

Eileen is a young woman who lives with her father, a severe alcoholic, and works in an all-male juvenile prison in the late 1960s. This book recounts her last week before she leaves her hometown and, for better or for worse, creates a new life for herself.

It's a short but incredibly deep character study. Incredibly deep. Between the intimate details we learn about Eileen's bowel movements, unhygienic habits and self-destructive tendencies, we are granted memories and anecdotes that gradually help us form a comprehensive image of her tragic home life, family life and upbringing. The complete image, to me, is something Eileen herself would love - a high resolution capture of something so unsettling you can't look away.

There is a plot here (if I were to complain I'd complain about the climax) but the beauty of this book is in Eileen's brutal voice as she considers her father, her identity, her body, her surroundings, the people around her. I was shocked, at first, uncomfortable, then I was judgmental of Eileen - she's so unstable, she's troubled, she's abhorrent, she's disgusting, unclean - and then I realized: nope, she's normal. She's not troubled, she's just raw and unfiltered. And yes, perhaps she's a victim of unfortunate circumstances that cause her habits to become a little extreme. But I can't judge her, really - she just says what we all think, what we all contemplate; she vocalizes what we all consider and are tempted by and observe in others and ourselves. As Ottessa Moshfegh put it, “Eileen is not perverse. I think she’s totally normal … I haven’t written a freak character; I’ve written an honest character.” Either that or we're ALL perverse.

In fact, there are some things I related to immediately - Eileen's taste for the macabre, for example. "I didn't really read books about flowers or home economics. I liked books about awful things - murder, illness, death. I remember selecting one of the thickest books from the public library, a chronicle of ancient Egyptian medicine, to study the gruesome practice of pulling the brains of the dead out through the nose like skeins of yarn." I personally brag about my obsession with Egypt as a child - but I almost never admit that the reason I picked up books about Egypt in the library was to stare at the pictures of mummies. Of dead bodies.

And she stalks her crush (done that), imagines her colleagues in sexual scenarios (done that too) - sorry, is this too personal? Yeah, Eileen is like that. Like pulling out all your secrets out of the dryer - secrets you didn't even know were in there - and airing them on the balcony.

Along those lines, Moshfegh has some fascinating things to say about the more ... private ... details included: "The theatrics of graciousness and good manners are completely absurd to me. And I think they're really cruel, too. You can be sitting at a formal dinner with someone who you know is in a lot of pain, but depending on where you are you have to go through this charade and talk about how delicious the fucking salmon is, or whatever. So I like writing about the things that people spend their whole lives trying to pretend aren't there. Like pimples."

(Read the whole interview, it's amazing. Favorite quote: "At school, I learned: fuck school.")

I'm sorry, I know. I'm getting too deep, I think. I've hyperfocused on one aspect. Stuff happens in this book, I promise, and while it may not be enjoyable, exactly, it's captivating and wonderful and weird. I could go on and on about Eileen's relationship with her father, her infatuation with Rebecca, the fact that her name is Rebecca, the hideous crime surrounding Lee Polk, Eileen's hyper self-awareness and lack of self-respect... bottom line, this author is fucking talented, and this book is a joyful slap in the face.

Eileen on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Haunting of Hill House

5 stars. A young woman, after spending years as the primary caretaker for her recently-deceased mother, responds to an invitation to spend the summer at Hill House, an isolated house rumored to be haunted. There she meets carefree, feisty Theodora, handsome owner Luke and the delightfully academic Dr. Montague, who is determined to investigate supernatural phenomena in the house. You can guess what happens next ... or can you?

This book is absolute, terrifying perfection. I am so inspired by Shirley Jackson's writing here - it's gorgeous, captivating and completely unnerving. Eleanor's unreliability is portrayed with such beautiful, unsettling prose - prose that weaves threads of isolation, sexual repression, desire, identity, femininity, etc. into a blanket as cozy (for a fan of horror) as it is torturous. 

I know it's full of tropes and shallow characters, but I happen to love horror tropes and there is nothing stale here. In fact, there is something that feels - even decades after it was written - revolutionary. Not just because of the lesbianism (it's blatant and a cornerstone of Eleanor's journey, sorry not sorry). The psychological terror depicted here would horrify anyone. The scares are soft but stayed with me for a long while and ... made me think. I can't remember the last time a horror story made me think. I felt this book deeply as a woman struggling to establish and embrace an identity - to reconcile what's expected of me + what I want; the pain of growing up and becoming an adult; etc. 

And The Haunting of Hill House is incredibly funny. There is a sharp, dark sense of humor here that cuts the tension and strengthens the dialogue. Eleanor's self-conscious naiveté is as adorable as it is relatable even as there is a sense that she is disjointed or stunted in some way. We learn about her not just through her internal monologue but from the characters that orbit around her, first with affection, then concern, then suspicion. 

I suppose a bottom line could be that this book should smell musty, but it doesn't. It's fresh. Another bottom line could be that this book is arguably the scariest ever written. Because it is, or is at least close to the top. I think the bottom line for me, though, is that this book is so much more than it promises; more than a simple ghost story; more than we rightfully deserve. The Haunting of Hill House is a gift and a treasure and should be recognized as such.

The Haunting of Hill House on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: My Brilliant Friend (The Neapolitan Novels #1)

When I started this blog, I had been posting reviews on Goodreads for about 6 months. In the interest of having all of my book writing in one place, I will post one of these old reviews every Friday. They weren't written with a blog in mind, so please forgive the lack of summary and off-the-cuff tone.

5 stars. Visiting art museums as a child, I always preferred narrative art over portraits and landscapes. I liked putting together the visual clues, drawing inferences from the content, and using my imagination to fill in the rest. Like a typical child, I was attracted to the excitement, the illustrations, the battle scenes, the hidden elements that truly tell a story. Very occasionally, though, I'd come across a portrait that mesmerized, or a landscape that took my breath away. I remember viewing Whistler's Symphony in White, No. 1: The White Girl at age 10, and being totally and completely captivated. She's so pretty, so magnetic, and I saw layers and layers of personality in her face. Just as Whistler's portrait held surprising depth for me at age 10, this book is, perhaps, one of the most unexpected page turners I've ever encountered.

A lot happens in My Brilliant Friend. Many things occur. And yet it doesn't feel action-packed. I'm aware that some readers give up halfway through this book, frustrated with the lack of forward movement. Sometimes it dragged for me, too. But as I really consider this story and its complexities, I realize that it is, in fact, a narrative portrait - not thrilling at first glance, but layered and personal, allowing the reader a very intimate and very in-depth look at a somewhat unreliable narrator's portrayal of her childhood, her family, her surroundings, her development, her education, and her closest friendship.

Most importantly, her friendship. The most precious and terrifying relationship in her life. This is a novel truly about Elena's friendship with Lila. She's painfully aware of the impact this friendship has had on her life, on her formative years, and how this friendship has shaped her attitude and her priorities and her idea of success, and she spends a lot of energy attempting to capture the details. From anyone else's pen, this might be repetitive, cliche, or boring, but coming from Ferrante and her incredible translator, the story is engaging, wonderful, and from my perspective, easy to relate to.

Yes - to be a woman is to compete with other women. At least, in my experience. The "frenemy" concept is real. The constant comparison is real. The jealousy, the manipulation, the drive to be better, the validation that comes from the approval of your friend. The roller coaster of feeling superior only to be dashed by her inevitable success. The race to be first - first at anything. All real. I don't know about other women, or other men, but all of this was commonplace in my childhood and adolescence. And while I suppose I've matured, and those around me have grown up as well, thinking about it - remembering - brings up the same intense emotions as it did back then. The same anger and fear and the need to be better.

My Brilliant Friend is beautiful. It's a work of art. It moved me and made my heart beat faster. It's full of fascinating details about Naples and poverty and politics and religion and tradition. And I can't finish without addressing the fact that this book includes as much about masculinity as it does femininity. Elena's observations are honest and strong.

My Brilliant Friend on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Behind Her Eyes

5 stars. Hahahahaha. Awesome. 

Quick, super high-level summary: A lonely single mother, Louise, has a drunken encounter with a man in the bar, only to discover that he's her new boss. And married. To a beautiful, intriguing, seemingly-perfect woman named Adele. Soon, as she gets to know both of them, she begins to uncover secrets ... upon secrets ... upon secrets.

There's a lot that made this book successful. At first glance I was annoyed with the author for trying to channel Gillian Flynn (everyone tries to channel Gillian and everyone fails, because she writes stories that are thrilling, not thrillers ... but that's a story for another day). I felt hints of Paula Hawkins and Jane Harper, too, so I was annoyed and frustrated and all set to mock this book into oblivion for feeling so derivative. It appeared, in every sense of the word, to play by the rules.

And then things took a turn.

And then things took another turn.

And I was so into it.

Things I loved:

Sarah Pinborough's knack for writing different voices. I've read books that switch POV unsuccessfully because the author can't write more than one reliably believable tone and the characters are virtually indistinguishable. Here we have two/three individuals with their own quirks, interests, personality accents. It's wonderful and fresh and impressive.

The fact that despite very weird, wild, far-fetched, almost-maybe-supernatural events moved the plot forward, the characters behaved almost exactly like I'd expect them to - that is to say, realistically.

Pinborough's absolute, unwavering commitment. This wouldn't have worked had it been half-assed. I know there are complaints about the characters acting in ways that are ... expected, perhaps, reinforcing a caricature. But that's partly what made the puzzle pieces here fall into place - because they all fit the way they're expected to. That's a little abstract and might not make sense, but it really, really worked for me.

I know, I know, that ending (it's true - #WTFThatEnding). Sick. So sick. And somehow so satisfying in a crunchy, tangy way that hurts in all the right ways. Like taking a shot. I'm really, really blown away. The writing is good AND the plot is good AND the characters are good and I highly recommend this as a soul-sucking book that's worth your time. Convincing? No, maybe not. But just let ... it ... go and let yourself be entertained.

Behind Her Eyes on: Amazon | Goodreads