Review: Perfume

3 stars. I have this thing that I would probably describe as perfect music memory: if you play for me a song I've heard before, I can tell you when I heard it last, even if it was 20 years ago, and where I was when I heard it, down to the very last detail. Trust me, I'm of average intelligence, and it's basically just a useless party trick, but that part of my brain is, I guess, extra cool.

This book is about a man whose nose is, apparently, also extra cool. Perfume tells the story of Jean-Baptise Grenouille, a young man in eighteenth century France with a perfect sense of smell. He is able to identify, analyze, dissect and produce even the faintest aroma, and his skill lends itself to an obsession - a drive to capture and cultivate an ultimate perfume made from the scent of beautiful young virgins.

Grenouille is a psychopath - which adds a compelling layer to the character study. His entire existence is driven by scent. The premise itself is wonderfully challenging and the writing - as in, the way the author stitches together his words - is lyrical and lovely. But my eyes glazed over many, many times. I should've eaten this up, but it took me a bit long, primarily because, I think, there is literally no one to root for in this book. I'm all for an anti-hero, but this sort of feels, occasionally, like a writing exercise the author did to prove he could write abhorrent characters. And he succeeds, mostly:

Grenouille broke out in a different jubilation, a black jubilation, a wicked feeling of triumph that set him quivering and excited him like an attack of lechery, and he had trouble keeping from spurting it like venom and spleen over all these people and screaming exultantly in their faces: that he was not afraid of them; that he hardly hated them anymore; but that his contempt for them was profound and total, because they were so dumb they stank; because they could be deceived by him, let themselves be deceived; because they were nothing, and he was everything!

But it's detrimental to Perfume's overall success as an engaging novel. It can apparently be quite boring, venturing into the mind of one male selfish bastard after another. And it gets weird, too, and not in an interesting, fascinating way - in a kind of uncomfortable, this-author-is-jerking-off-to-himself, sort of way (I'm pointing in particular to the middle of the book, when things dragged and rambled a bit).

Ultimately, though, I sincerely enjoyed the exploration of scent, maybe only because I'm a huge nerd about sensory triggers and the way our senses impact and interact with our brain waves. Pheromones and all that: 

For people could close their eyes to greatness, to horrors, to beauty, and their ears to melodies or deceiving words. But they could not escape scent. For scent was a brother of breath. Together with breath it entered human beings, who could not defend themselves against it, not if they wanted to live. And scent entered into their very core, went directly to their hearts, and decided for good and all between affection and contempt, disgust and lust, love and hate. He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.

And then, that ending. Brilliant! I loved it. An astonishing and perfect conclusion. Enough to bring this up from 2 stars to 3 - I really, really liked it. Read this if you're in the mood for something luscious and unique. I think of it sort of as a Rembrandt - an intelligent, eye-catching, stimulating portrait painted with dark, moody colors. There are components of this (the premise, the writing, the ending) that are truly memorable and great.

Perfume on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: Sharp Objects

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. Here's a summary, for those of you who somehow haven't encountered one yet: Camille Preaker, fresh out of a mental institution, reluctantly returns to her hometown on a work assignment. Wind Gap, Missouri is reeling from the murders of two young girls, and Camille is told to write a story on the deaths for her small Chicago newspaper. Unfortunately, she has a horrible past and a horrible relationship with her family (specifically, her mother). Still grieving the death of her sister from years ago, Camille tries to gather the facts for her story while unintentionally unearthing the darkness from her childhood.

I loved Sharp Objects, but warning: this is not a feel-good book. I know it's cliche to say, but Gillian Flynn is a super gutsy writer and that comes through significantly in this narrative. She features characters that hate themselves and hate everyone around them (and somehow don't feel like antagonists - they feel very human). Camille, in this novel, is incredibly superficial and harshly critical of others - she zeroes in on every potentially unflattering characteristic of those she encounters and highlights them in grossly detailed ways.

This is also a bit of a Gillian Flynn trademark. The gross details. I remember her describing vomited spaghetti in Dark Places - the words she used left quite an impression (warning: there is a lot of vomit in Sharp Objects, too). Then again, seeing vomited spaghetti would likely leave an impression if I had seen it with my own eyes.

So maybe that's one of her strengths - her ability to realistically describe what we pay attention to. When someone at the table gets spinach in their teeth, it's all anyone can think about. Basically, Gillian Flynn has a knack for pointing it out. And describing it in the most disgusting way possible. And somehow making the spinach-wearer seem hateful even though the spinach-wearer isn't technically at fault. I just love her grotesque style.

I also loved the story. I figured out what was going on almost immediately, but that didn't take away from the experience at all. I found myself reading and rushing and reading and rushing because I wanted confirmation so badly.

Look, this book is disturbing. It is dark, especially in its depiction of women as villains and as victims. I may return to expand on how upon reading Sharp Objects,I felt as though a piece clicked into place in the puzzle of what it means to be a woman. But for now, I'll just say that I loved every word. A home run.

Sharp Objects on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Girl with a Pearl Earring

4 stars. I picked this up because I felt like I should. I bought my copy years ago at a library book sale for like $3 or something. The movie had just been released and everyone was swooning. I believe I recall my parents trading it around with neighbors. Plus, I really, really, really love art - the power of art, the history of art, the artistic process. And I wanted something a little mellower than all the straight-up horror I've read in 2019 so far. Something lighter.

And it was lovely. This is a shimmery book, very visual and full of color. It is the story of Griet, a young woman who is hired by Vermeer's family as a maid in his household. As she goes about her duties and tends to the many children, the artist recognizes a like-minded, observant individual in her and they develop an intimate friendship culminating in his masterpiece painting, The Girl with a Pearl Earring. 

It's a gorgeous example of historical fiction. And the movie is wonderfully faithful, so I knew what to expect. This is a quiet story, a narrow story, that is somehow able to explore many big themes: coming-of-age, a young girl’s sexual awakening, one’s awareness of class, one’s obedience to that class, one’s sense of duty and honor, strength of character, unrequited lust, female rage … the list goes on. I particularly enjoyed the way the author addressed art - that anyone can be an artist, yes, or recognize and enjoy and consume potent art, and that it can consume you.

I also really appreciated Tracy Chevalier’s succinct storytelling, in fact, I read this in half a day. Not much is known about the artist Vermeer and this peek into his life and process was compelling and kept me turning pages. Griet is also lovely character and I rooted for her. In fact, I wanted it all to be true. There is a story behind every painting (and Chevalier’s version is likely inaccurate, but); I would love to think that the model in the masterpiece experienced some sort of transcendental intimacy with the artist and that lent itself to such a beautiful work of art.

To be read on a rainy day, when you’re in the mood for a prolonged and meaningful daydream.

The Girl with a Pearl Earring on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Rosemary's Baby

5 stars. I can’t give this anything less even though it upset me so profoundly. I was moved to tears - frustrated, horrified tears - at least twice. This book made me itch and squirm and scream and I walked away really disturbed. I know, sounds like a horrible reading experience, right? I can’t give it anything less than 5 stars because it elicited such a strong reaction - Ira Levin’s horror is, in that sense, exquisite.

Rosemary’s Baby. Everyone knows what it’s about. In the mid-1960’s, a young woman, Rosemary, and her husband - an actor named Guy - move into a new apartment building called the Bramford. Excited about the prospect of having a child and starting a family, Rosemary settles in to their new place and enjoys her role as homemaker for her husband. They become acquainted with their elderly neighbors - Roman and Minnie - to whom Guy seems to take an unusual interest.

But Rosemary detects something strange about the building and her new neighbors. She’s aware of the Bramford’s colorful past - full of death and strange happenings - and when another young resident leaps out the window, her suspicions grow. Meanwhile, Guy continues to spend time with their neighbors while experiencing a sudden career boost. At last, he decides to give Rosemary what she yearns for - a baby.

And things only get worse from there! Needless to say, Rosemary’s pregnancy is difficult and her neighbors’ extreme interest disturbs her. As the months go by and the due date nears, she begins to perceive an insidious and terrifying plot against her and her baby and learns, ultimately, that she can trust no one.

Literally, no one. Rosemary’s body is stolen from her, and she has nowhere to turn, nowhere to go, nobody she can speak to. Every avenue of true support or friendship is completely eliminated. I felt this as a woman so deeply - nobody believed her. It sickens me so much (I won’t turn this into a political discussion, I promise, but just know that I had such a strong reaction) because I see dark and vivid echoes of this today.

And it’s not just that - it’s the fact that she was so manipulated. The slow discovery that any sense of independence is an illusion? My worst nightmare. She is controlled, completely controlled, even her THOUGHTS are controlled. Did y’all see Hereditary? When you realize you walk into someone else’s trap willingly, thinking you’re doing the right thing?

Along those lines, I couldn’t stand Guy. Among all the villains in this story, he is by far the worst. The way he tries to convince her - so smugly - till the very end makes my stomach turn. Guy Woodhouse is an absolute sorry excuse for a human being and I hope his career crashed and burned so hard he ended up alone and forgotten before dying a painful and agonizing death.

Despite knowing ahead of time what to expect, I wanted this to end so differently. I wanted a satisfying, gory conclusion - an epilogue, perhaps, called Rosemary’s Revenge. But this is one of those gut punches of a horror novel, one where the twist of the blade feels inevitable. The perfection is in the rug pull - you’re safe! Until you aren’t. Oh don’t worry, you’re safe again! Nope, you aren’t safe at all and you never were.

So let’s talk about the writing. I was pleasantly surprised by Levin’s concise, dry manner of craft. The level of detail is incredible and makes things feel very real - too real. He is Salt Bae with clues, sprinkling them into the story with an artful flourish. His ability to portray the female mind is admirable, though I doubt any woman would be that gullible about weird-tasting mousse and a husband’s sneaky behavior. Regardless, it’s a masterpiece of psychological horror. Like I said, I was deeply unsettled.

After this and the Ted Bundy documentary, I don’t know how I’ll ever trust men, or neighbors, again. ALL OF THEM WITCHES.

Rosemary’s Baby on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: NOS4A2

4 stars. Well, well, well. Not bad, Joe Hill! Not bad at all. This was truly exciting, creative and engaging, a delightfully twisted adventure featuring the saturated writing style he clearly inherited. Of course I went into this with an open mind, but you know I couldn't help but compare - and I'm happy to report that Mr. Hill completely and totally lives up to his dad's legacy. It's exciting!

NOS4A2 is a sprawling epic focused on a truly likable fuck-up named Victoria McQueen and her pseudo-nemesis, a monster named Charles Talent Manx. Vic and Mr. Manx have something in common: a special talent for navigating inscapes - essentially, manipulating the world, traveling between dimensions, finding things, etc. Vic uses her special powers for good, and, naturally, Mr. Manx does not. He kidnaps children and take them to Christmasland, a truly evil place where Vic must travel - years after her first encounter with Manx - to save her own son and her own soul.

There's something really tasty about taking Christmas - an event that most of us associate with good vibes only - and making it super dark and sinister. The smell of gingerbread? Toxic. The sound of Christmas music fills us with foreboding and fear. Snowmen are creepy and malevolent. Ornaments become emblems of danger and death. It's trippy and upside-down-ish and pretty genius as a premise.

The characters, too: Mr. Manx and his disgusting henchman Bing make quite a villainous pair. I loved hearing them play off each other, I loved sinking into Bing's truly grotesque headspace, and I loved Mr. Manx's jolly attitude. And Vic McQueen, man, she's so imperfect, she's so normal and she suffers and she screws up but she tries - she has nothing but good intentions. I loved that she, her parents, and Lou were all like that. They made mistakes. And they were still heroes. I'd want Vic as my badass, motorcycle-driving savior any day.

I do have a couple of observations leaning more towards criticism - first, 'twas a bit long! I feel almost ridiculous saying that about a King-adjacent novel but the plot could've used some editing. The cat-and-mouse game went back and forth maybe too many times for my taste. And Hill can't quite seem to capture being a kid as well as his dad, but hey, his dad is literally the best at that. So to come close is a huge accomplishment.

This also didn't quite go as savage as I expected, the blade wasn't sharp enough for me. I wasn't truly unsettled or disturbed at any point, although the descriptions of the pain behind Vic's left eye made me cringe. I don't know why I want things to be truly horrifying, I just do. And I saw a lot of unrealized potential here. Bing is the worst, that's for sure, and the goblin children are also ... yes, very appropriate for a horror novel, but I wanted something more extreme.

This took me a while to get through, but it was very rewarding. And FUN. Joe Hill has accomplished something extraordinary here - something truly entertaining. I completely applaud his creativity and his ability to write. I look forward to reading more from him and AMC's adaptation as well. I have a feeling this is going to be - if not already - considered a classic.

NOS4A2 on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: In Cold Blood

2019 CHALLENGE: 1 YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT YET?! PER MONTH 01 / 12

5 stars. This year, I decided to create and implement two reading challenges. The first: 1 re-read per month. I'm really interested in revisiting old favorites - many of them books I read as a child or a young person - and this is meant to get me out from under the pressure to consume everything new and shiny. My first re-read was The Westing Game - and it was hugely delightful.

The second challenge: 1 you haven't read that yet?! per month. There are some books out there (classics, bestselllers, Want to Read lingerers) that I just haven't forced myself to read, for whatever reason. This challenge is meant to make it happen. I had so much fun developing my lists/plans for both of these, but I'm keeping them under wraps so I can tinker/change my mind. 

My first you haven't read that yet?! is Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. I know - HOW. How have I not read this. But it's true. I finally finished it yesterday and wow - there's so much to unpack. Based on advice from my husband, I went in completely blind and resisted the urge to Google, even when my fingers itched to. I let myself absorb the story as it unfolded.

The story, as it turns out, is the story of a murder - the horrific, tragic murder of a family of four in their farm house in Holcomb, Kansas. In Cold Blood, written as the first "nonfiction novel," explores the crime from every angle. Showcasing an incredible eye for detail, Capote sets the stage with care and paints detailed pictures of each victim and each perpetrator. He examines closely the events leading up to and after the murder, placing the rippling consequences in sociological and psychological contexts. We get to know these people - the victims, the survivors, the witnesses, the investigators. By the end, we feel deeply affected by the murders and intimately familiar with the murderers.

What can I possibly say? Capote literally invented a genre here. He birthed a type of writing. It's obviously an incredible technical accomplishment, both in terms of style and approach. The level of journalistic work required must have been insane. Yes, he distorted the truth in places, created scenes where perhaps he shouldn't have, but we know that going in by now. The hype is REAL. It's a must-read.

So yes, it's a gamechanger from a methodological perspective. But it's also a profoundly emotional read. Capote was obviously the OG murderino, but I don't think even he anticipated the many complexities or the distressing twists and turns this case would take.

One thing emerged very clearly for me, a quarter of the way through the book: Capote was obsessed with - infatuated with, maybe - Perry Smith. He never excuses Smith's behavior, nor does he minimize the tragedy of the Clutters' deaths. He confronts the horror head-on, in fact, brutally walking us through Smith's cold, twisted thought process upon killing four innocent people for $40. But he's fascinated with Smith and pays distinct attention to his upbringing, his past, his family, the circumstances that led to his predicament. 

It's an almost loving portrayal, and his death feels almost just as tragic as the original murders. I finished this book after watching the Ted Bundy documentary on Netflix (Ted Bundy is having a moment), and I couldn't help but juxtapose the two killers and the forms of justice they faced. 

Killing Ted Bundy was an ultimate and satisfying consequence, because it completely robbed a manipulative psychopath of his control. That man was never going to stop. He was never going to stop hunting. He was driven almost beyond self-preservation to possess things - situations, authority figures, courtrooms, juries, women. I find myself supportive of the death penalty here as justice for his victims and as prevention of his future crimes.

Killing Perry Smith and his partner feels far less satisfying. It's just not the same. There is a spectrum here and Smith - to me, based on this book - does not land near Bundy. Like Capote, I will not excuse his actions or distract from the complete suffering faced by the Clutter family. But like Capote, I see layers here. I see reasons. I see explanations. I see circumstances beyond Smith’s ability to control.

It's a moral quandary that I won't even attempt to navigate beyond that. I am tired and my brain is squishy from considering all this. But it's beautiful that this book inspires these types of questions. In Cold Blood is truly extraordinary, and I can see why Capote struggled with it. I'm so glad I read it and I'm sorry it took me so long.

In Cold Blood on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Vegetarian

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.

4 stars. Quick summary: a young woman, after having a traumatic dream, decides to become a vegetarian. In Asia, this is unheard of and provokes frustrated reactions from her family. This short book takes us into the heads of three people close to her: her strict husband, her sensitive brother-in-law, and her deeply unhappy sister as they try to change, understand, and accept her choice.

Every now and then I get an urge to read something truly unsettling. It's not that I enjoy (in the traditional sense of the word) being scared or disgusted, but sometimes I go after the books that are deliberately disturbing. It's just an urge, I don't know. It's like I want to explore how deep and dark the human imagination can take me. I want to find books out there that truly "go there." This is the one of the reasons why I loved The Vegetarian - it really, really goes there.

It's certainly nothing at all like what I expected. It wasn't disturbing in a way that I anticipated, either. Yes, there's gore, there are elements of horror, there's a sorta-kinda traditional "descent into madness," but primarily I was disturbed because it made me question ... a lot. It gave me anxiety of the most suffocating kind.

What if what we consider to be normal behavior isn't normal at all? What if we go through life thinking we know what's best for others? What if - good intentions aside - we end up condemning people to suffer in order to meet society standards/expectations?

This book made me question everything, particularly as a woman. I'm extremely fortunate to live in a "free" society that grants me privilege, opportunity, and choice. But I felt like a child after finishing -looking around, going about my day with a bell tolling "why? why? why?" in my head. Why am I doing this? Why did I eat this, why did I say that? Why am I polite? Why did I braid my hair? Am I conditioned? Am I even a good person?

Obviously there's a lot to unpack here and I have no idea if in reading this I drew the conclusions I was meant to. But that isn't a bad thing. This book will stay with me for a long time.

The Vegetarian on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Song of Achilles

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. This book tells the life story of Patroclus, a friend (in this case, lover) of Achilles, legendary fighter and son of a goddess. Patroclus first encounters Achilles as a young boy, and readers witness their friendship develop into something deeper. Eventually, they head to war - the Trojan War - and the story concludes with both heroes fulfilling their destinies.

I hated this book until I reached the last few chapters. Actually, I hated it entirely. Actually, I loved this book. I can't decide. Regardless, I found it to be amazing.

The Song of Achilles wasn't at all what I was expecting. I picked it up because of my interest in Greek mythology, hoping for a fresh and captivating look at the Trojan War. I suppose I actually did get that, in the end, I just didn't expect to see it through a romantic lens.

Yeah. FYI, this is a romance. Fully blown, agonizing infatuation, profound obsession, there-is-no-life-without-you romance. (Also, I would not describe it as erotica, though there are erotic parts.)

At first I found it to be boring, actually, because so much attention was paid to Patroclus and Achilles' relationship. By the end though, I realized that so much attention was paid because it made the ending that much more of a gut punch. Even though we all saw it coming (it is history, after all) ... ouch.

The language is stunning. This is not a sloppy book. I loved the inclusion of the gods and goddesses and all the things the Greeks believed in. And yeah, that painful ending really got me. I couldn't believe how suddenly, over the course of a few paragraphs, I became so emotionally invested in the characters of a book I almost didn't finish.

I feel so weird about this one. I loved it and I hated it. I appreciated the writing and commend the author for her skill. No other book has shocked me into tears like this one has. Which sounds kind of horrible, like why would you ever want to be shocked into tears? But I really, really, really appreciated the story. This is a difficult one for me, but I say read it, for better or for worse.

The Song of Achilles on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Vita Nostra

4 stars. WOAH. I am dizzy. This book is everything I expected - bizarre, abstract, insane. It’s also beautiful, darkly beautiful - defiant, philosophical fantasy at its finest. I took my time with this, and I’m glad I did, because it requires patience, discipline - a studious eye - to complete. There are elements of many genres here - coming-of-age, fantasy, science fiction, horror, magical realism. It’s best to approach it without expectations, without the intent to put a label on it.

Yes, yes, I know, first things first: Vita Nostra has definite Harry Potter vibes, as many have said. A vacationing teenage girl is approached by a mysterious stranger who requests - compels - her to complete strange, potentially dangerous tasks in exchange for gold coins. These coins are eventually used as payment for admission to the Institute for Special Technologies, a weird and scary school in an isolated village. The girl, Sasha, discovers that she has a gift for the work she is assigned, sparking a transformation that she does not understand; one she cannot control or stop.

Let me be upfront: you, as a reader, will not receive all the answers. The authors successfully paint a breathtaking and compelling picture here, but you will never see the full image. Blindly exploring the themes and ideas was enough for me and in fact a refreshing exercise, but it will not be satisfying for others. Had I not been in the right mood, reading this would’ve felt frustrating and wasteful. Beware, interested readers, you will be forced to navigate uncomfortable waters here.

But yes, I loved it. I truly enjoyed stumbling around bumping into concepts such as consequence, fear, love, discipline, obligation, transformation, and destiny. This book is dark - and simmers with foreboding - but there is something so charming about Sasha; I really fell in love with her shenanigans as a gifted student and an awkward teenage girl. I appreciated getting to know her allies, her supporters, her family, her professors. I really rooted for her, without knowing where she was headed, or how she’d succeed. It’s quite something.

At the risk of beating a dead horse, this is not for the faint of heart. But I’d recommend it for anyone interested in taking a deep, dark dive into abstract philosophy.

Or perhaps anyone interested in what it feels like to take LSD. Russian LSD.

Vita Nostra on: Amazon | Goodreads

Retro Review: The Leftovers

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.

4 stars. I'm glad that I knew to expect a quiet book before I picked this up. I'm a huge fan of the television show - one of the gutsiest ever written - and had high expectations, for sure, but I knew going in that I likely wouldn't feel ... satisfied. Well, I guess I was satisfied, but not in a comparable way.

The plot is similar: following what appears to be some sort of rapture-like event, several residents of Mapleton, New Jersey attempt to navigate a traumatized world and learn to live without answers.

I think one of the most important things I ever learned, or accepted, is that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. Recovery is not black and white, and everyone reacts to trauma differently. You should not expect a grieving individual to react the same way you would - nor should you expect them to feel comfort from things that offer you comfort. One size simply does not fit all.

This is my preferred way to interpret this book. It's my favorite thing to draw from the story. Simply written, and almost painfully human, The Leftovers examines connected individuals of all ages, shapes and sizes, and how they react to the incredibly traumatic Departure. This book tells their stories without reluctance and without judgement - detailing messy pain and exploring how human connection helps and hurts, sometimes simultaneously.

It doesn't always feel good. It's hard to see people struggle, to witness them spiral into depression, or denial, or anger, or fanaticism. But it happens, and The Leftovers depicts this quietly, subtly. Maybe it's a warning, maybe it's a statement of the inevitable. Maybe it's a combination of both - humans are fragile and also resilient. Some things get back to normal, some things are ruined forever. Again, my favorite lesson: one size does not fit all when it comes to recovery.

The book’s version of The Leftovers is a different, less wacky interpretation of an idea. A little footnote to the grand themes illustrated by the show. It's fascinating but maybe a little less compelling. I really enjoyed it, though.

The Leftovers on: Amazon | Goodreads