“So I told them the truth: the hours are terrible, the pay is terrible, the conditions are terrible; you’re underappreciated, unsupported, disrespe
“So I told them the truth: the hours are terrible, the pay is terrible, the conditions are terrible; you’re underappreciated, unsupported, disrespected and frequently physically endangered. But there’s no better job in the world.”
I devoured this book in a single sitting. It is rare to find a book that can make you laugh and cry in equal measure-- especially, I think, a nonfiction book --but this one managed it just fine.
It's very British, with references to British TV shows I'm pretty sure the rest of the world has never heard of, so bear that in mind if you are a non-Brit thinking of reading this. But it is essentially a publication of the diaries Adam Kay kept while he was a junior doctor working for the NHS. It is a funny, moving portrait of a service that underpays, undervalues, and overworks its doctors, and yet, despite all of this, it is a love letter to universal healthcare.
Kay shares his experiences training as an obstetrician-gynecologist, from the gory stories that made me cringe, to the devastating loss of patients, to the destruction of his personal relationships due to the long hours and last-minute demands. It sounds like a nightmare, but he keeps a good humour throughout. Some parts of it are genuinely very funny. Some parts are genuinely revolting.
It exposes a lot that is wrong with the NHS, but never loses sight of how truly important it is. It wasn't until I came to live in California that I really understood how fortunate we were. I had lived in a bubble where healthcare was taken for granted as a human right and no one was ever told they couldn't be made better because they were too poor. The realization that some countries allowed people to die preventable deaths shook me to my core. It still does.
It bothers Adam Kay, too. He finishes his hilarious and touching tales with a direct plea to the government and to us to take the NHS and its doctors seriously. To respect it and them. To not take the work done for granted. Such a powerful and important read wrapped up in a highly-entertaining package.
“I have so much in me, and the feeling for her absorbs it all; I have so much, and without her it all comes to nothing.”
A lot of classic novels co
“I have so much in me, and the feeling for her absorbs it all; I have so much, and without her it all comes to nothing.”
A lot of classic novels contain certain things that make us cringe a little today but The Sorrows of Young Werther is one that, more than most, really hasn't aged well. I do not know if some people consider this tragically romantic, but it is not my idea of romance. Werther is a serious pest and borderline stalker. He needs to let it go.
In this story, Werther falls head over heels for the first pretty girl who wants to dance with him, obsesses over her, and continues to pursue her even after learning of her engagement to another man; even after she openly refuses him. He turns up at her house constantly. He attempts to force kisses upon her. We suffer through accounts of his sex dreams about her. They're not called that, but that's basically what they are.
The book is written as a series of letters to Werther's friend Wilhelm. It's a tiny book, but it feels so much longer because these letters mostly consist of Werther's repetitive internal struggles. Of course he believes he is the only person in the history of the world to feel like he does, and he repeatedly insists that Charlotte - the object of his obsession - secretly loves him, too, despite her protestations.
I can sympathise with the pain and angst of young love, even when it is wrapped up in a flowery, introspective package. I liked Call Me By Your Name after all. However, any sympathy I had for Werther quickly dissipated when he continued to harass both Lotte and her now husband, Albert. I guess this is just an old example of predatory behaviour being excused because of passion, and men's emotions being perceived as more important than the damage they do to the women they're directed at.
It also romanticizes (view spoiler)[suicide, as Werther eventually kills himself over the rejection by his beloved. In fact, it apparently led to some of the first known copycat suicides in Europe. (hide spoiler)] And though the intellectuals smell blood when anyone dares to call a 300-year-old classic "boring", I'm going to have to be philistine and say it: It's also really boring.
“If you are going to be pushed, you had better jump.”
Almost everyone in this book is awful, but I... think I liked it?
I read Henry James once, yea
“If you are going to be pushed, you had better jump.”
Almost everyone in this book is awful, but I... think I liked it?
I read Henry James once, years ago, and I picked The Turn of the Screw, which turned out to be a bad decision. It put me off for a long time. I also hear that James gets a little more experimental in his later works, delving into that stream-of-consciousness style that has never really floated my boat, which might explain why I heard a lot of complaints about him from English students at university.
Washington Square, however, is more of a straight-up drama, that sees familial duty clashing with a potential romance. It's like Austen, but infinitely more depressing. Maybe more like Edith Wharton. Here, James' heroine is the well-meaning, plain and rich Catherine Sloper. She falls deeply in love with a charismatic and broke young man called Morris Townsend, whom her father is convinced wants Catherine for her inheritance. He refuses to give his blessing to their engagement so Catherine must decide whether to remain loyal to her father or follow her heart.
This is considered a classic, but don't believe for a second it's not a total soap opera. Between Dr Sloper going to interrogate Morris's sister, and Catherine's Aunt Lavinia setting up secret meetings to advise Morris how to manipulate the doctor, Catherine is just pulled from one drama to the next. The doctor's self-righteousness, his coldness, and his inability to respect his daughter's feelings, make him an infuriating character. And Aunt Lavinia seriously needs to mind her own business!
It's a short read, but all the characters are very well-drawn and nuanced. Even if they are insufferable. I enjoyed how James explored all their personal motivations but left a lot open to interpretation. I am still not sure what message, if any, he wished to impart with the novel's conclusion, but I do think I am ready to take on The Portrait of a Lady now.
I really wish I'd read this book after Furious Thing, not before, because it is exactly the kind of warm, silly, sweet goodness I need right now. Oh wI really wish I'd read this book after Furious Thing, not before, because it is exactly the kind of warm, silly, sweet goodness I need right now. Oh well, luckily for me there are two sequels to go get lost in!
This goes straight to my mental list of feel-good high school diary books that are my go-to when I'm feeling down. Chloe Snow belongs right up there among Georgia Nicholson, Emma Nash, Ruby Oliver and Jessica Darling. Tatiana made a highly convenient and aptly-named bookshelf so we can find them all in one place ...more
I've felt an increasing amount of jealousy and resentment from certain white male comics... I hear that line a lot: 'Me, I'm just another white guy
I've felt an increasing amount of jealousy and resentment from certain white male comics... I hear that line a lot: 'Me, I'm just another white guy.' Here's a solution: Try being a funnier white guy.
I had such a fun time reading this book!
Dear Girls was given to me as a gift and, at first, I wasn't sure how much it was really my thing, or even if I was going to read it. I like Ali Wong's stand-up just fine, but I don't read many books by comedians (just Born a Crime, which you definitely should read). Also, I say I like Ali Wong because I love how she tells really relatable stories and doesn't sugarcoat them with nice words, but I'm also not a huge fan of crude humour. Look, I grew up in Yorkshire where everyone has a crude sense of humour. In the beautiful land of God’s Own County, you might hear a passing child yell something about “p***y” (I’m only sorta joking). I'm immune to it at this point.
But, you know, this book was really entertaining and surprisingly sweet and heartwarming (in a hilarious way). Wong writes the book as a series of letters to her young daughters-- about life, love, sex, dating, careers, motherhood, and being East Asian. It's a good one of those funny-serious books in that she's talking about important things but is determined to never lose her sense of humour or trim her hairy bush. As we say in Yorkshire, "good lass".
What Ali Wong does is normalize all the gross and embarrassing stuff that many people do but won't talk about: fart during yoga, grow a huge forest in the pubic region, date multiple guys who lose their erections... it's quite refreshing.
Sometimes it seems like Ali Wong is fearless because her comedy is so without inhibition, but she also confesses to her own worries and fears and failures in this book. She leaves her daughters with a powerful message (though they are going to cringe so hard when they finally read this, lol) that it's okay to fail, to mess up, to sleep with the wrong person, to pick yourself up again and laugh about it. How wonderful that these girls have a mother behind them who is simultaneously so strong AND willing to be vulnerable.
Oh, and the food. All the talk of delicious food in this book made me so hungry ...more
‘I’ll change,’ the girl said. ‘I’ll be good from now on, I promise.’ She wanted it to be true. She wanted her family to love her. But fury sat in h
‘I’ll change,’ the girl said. ‘I’ll be good from now on, I promise.’ She wanted it to be true. She wanted her family to love her. But fury sat in her belly like a vicious snake. And some promises are hard to keep.
This book hurt me so much. I feel wrecked after reading it, honestly. I want to say it was hard to put down, which it was, but then you might wonder why it took me a whole week to read it… Well, even though it was hard to put down, it was also incredibly tough to keep reading. I really wanted to know what happened, but I had to take breaks.
I’ve read many books with more harrowing premises than this one, but there was something about this book that made me so sad. So deeply heartbroken that I couldn’t read it in one sitting.
How to explain it... Downham really captures the dynamic of emotional abuse in this book. She portrays a situation which is complicated, multilayered and completely utterly unfair. The title feels appropriate, not just because the protagonist - Lexi - is furious, but because I felt furious reading it. Furious and frustrated and scared for her.
‘I don’t want to be a monster.’
In Furious Thing, Lexi can't stop losing her temper. It builds and builds until she explodes, screams, and throws things. Everyone wonders what is wrong with her and she... can't explain. What is so wrong with her life? She has a loving mother and soon-to-be new stepfather. A little sister she adores. A place to live and food to eat. Nobody hits her. So what is it then?
This is a book about the kind of insidious manipulative behaviour that straddles the line between regular familial dysfunction and emotional abuse. It is even more upsetting, I think, because there are no easy answers. There were times while reading this book that I felt suffocated by the narrative, like I couldn't breathe because the situation was so sad, infuriating and hopeless. And lonely. Just the intense loneliness of it all.
I especially liked how the author made Lexi herself such a complex character. She's not even someone you can easily like, but, wow, I hurt so bad for her. Even when she makes terrible decisions. Even when she's a hypocrite about the whole Cerys/Kass thing.
If I were to say anything negative, it would be that I felt a little underwhelmed by the ending. And yet I am not deducting any stars because I appreciate when authors don’t tie things up neatly. True, the ending is almost disappointing, but maybe that's the point.
As you may have heard, this book is about the author, Jeannie Vanasco, interviewing the man and former friend who raped her
We used to be friends.
As you may have heard, this book is about the author, Jeannie Vanasco, interviewing the man and former friend who raped her when they were teenagers. After years of nightmares and trying to escape her past, Vanasco decided instead to confront it. To seek the answers she has needed for so long. To try and make sense of that one horrific night.
This an arresting premise, to be sure, though whether you feel curious about what this asshole has to say for himself or angry that he has been offered a platform will obviously differ from person to person. Vanasco herself seems keenly aware that some vocal feminists will not appreciate what she is doing. It is a terrible shame, though, that even among those who should seek first to help and protect survivors, the author feels the constant need to explain and justify herself. I think this book tells us a great deal about the way we "feminists" continue to fail survivors.
It seems almost trite to say it, but this is such a powerful, sad and raw memoir. Vanasco is constantly battling to keep control of the narrative, to get answers from Mark but not allow him to manipulate her or rewrite the story of what happened. A lot of the book focuses not on Mark, but on her feelings about reconnecting with him.
The book is written in short, fragmented chapters, which I appreciate won't be for everyone, but it really pulled me inside the author's mind. She clearly has a lot of thoughts circling in her head and I personally didn’t grow tired of hearing about them. Maybe this book works better if you’re familiar with depression and anxiety. The author spends a lot of time in her own head, questioning why she wants to do this and the language she chooses to explain the sexual assault, such as the way she places emphasis on the fact she was drunk for the first time-- to make herself seem more innocent? She wonders.
I could delete this rationale, or revise my stated motivations. But I would only be doing that in an effort to please or impress others. And I want to be honest here. Otherwise, why do this? This is a memoir, not a manifesto.
I think the most important message this book leaves us with is the thing Vanasco feels hesitant to say and yet it lurks beneath each chapter: rapists are not monsters in dark alleyways. They are friends, they are sons, they are brothers, lovers, boys. Some people bristle at these attempts to humanize rapists, but I think they misunderstand the importance of doing so. It is not for the rapists. It is not to make us sympathize with them. It is to make us sympathize with survivors. So many women don't report sexual assault because they think they will be hated for it, or not believed. Why? Because it is easy to believe the monster in the alleyway is a rapist. It is not easy to believe a friend/son/brother/lover is.
One last thing I wanted to note is that I am still struggling to make sense of the title. This is not really a criticism; I am just putting it out there in case anyone feels the same or wants to offer suggestions.
“Maybe it’s that I find the idea comforting . . . that thousands of years after you’re gone . . . is when you really live. That your echo is louder
“Maybe it’s that I find the idea comforting . . . that thousands of years after you’re gone . . . is when you really live. That your echo is louder than your voice.”
Ugh, I wish I hadn't taken so long to sit down and write a review of this. I prefer writing a review when everything is fresh in my mind, but I do actually have things I want to say about this dark, dense, totally unique fantasy.
One thing I think it might be helpful to know when starting this book is: you're going to just have to make peace with not totally "getting" it for a while. If you're anything like me, when you read something you don't really understand, you read it again and again until it makes sense. In my experience this can lead to book slumps, and I just don't think it's that helpful when it comes to Gideon the Ninth. Things get painted in over the course of the whole novel, so just accepting I didn't understand it at first made it much more palatable.
Because this world is dense and complex and, with a little patience, absolutely fascinating. Nobody can accuse Muir of a lack of imagination. This surely has to be one of the most detailed and unique necromancer fantasies ever written (though connoisseurs of that niche might be able to tell me different). In this world, the Emperor has a representative of each of the nine houses (with their accompanying cavalier) compete in a series of weird and dangerous trials in order to determine those most worthy of being a servant of the Resurrection, complete with power and immortality.
The plot is simple; the world-building and writing are anything but. However, more than either of those, what made this book shine so so much for me was Gideon. Well, really, a number of the characters, but mostly Gideon. How to explain her... She's a snarky lovable badass but with none of the standard heroine, fits-a-perfect-mold kind of badassery that I've grown so tired of. She's just really cool and funny. And somehow relatable, even though I can honestly say I've never been a swordswoman in space (no, really).
Honestly, as a character she really stands out as someone unique. Which is saying a lot because I've read a ton of fantasy books and most of them are obviously recycling characters at this point. Here, working through the author's challenging prose and world-building was easier because I cared so much about Gideon. This book really proves how much characters make or break a book. Without Gideon, I am sure this would have gone to my mental "not for me" pile.
Muir's ending hit me in the feels, too. The book surprised me by having a bunch of sad and sweet moments amid the darkness. I'm almost afraid to read Harrow the Ninth, but hell am I going to.
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