This is a literary fiction rom com with literary fiction MC problems that are too dark for an actual rom com and IOne run on line baby feeding review:
This is a literary fiction rom com with literary fiction MC problems that are too dark for an actual rom com and I absolutely never would have known this was the same writer who penned Euphoria which is sort of impressive on her part and disappointing for me because I loved Euphoria- there were certain passages I highlighted that stood out with that magic but it wasn’t the whole tapestry like in that book- relatable for a certain set of people I know, long past relatable for me (I have been married a decade and have never been attracted to these sorts of guys)- so meh!- I’ll probably hold on to a couple of quotes and forget the rest.
This is a book about 19th century cancel culture and Trollope’s position that we should feel bad about the questions it mOne line baby feeding review:
This is a book about 19th century cancel culture and Trollope’s position that we should feel bad about the questions it makes Nice White Men ask themselves.
I read this thinking it would be an antidote for all the Trollope I’m plowing through right now and bOne (run on) line baby feeding reviews continue!:
I read this thinking it would be an antidote for all the Trollope I’m plowing through right now and boy it sure was- the atmospheric, hazy prose, the wandering in and out of memory structure, the visceral, fleshy, gritty in your face-ness of it all- but I think perhaps the Trollope ruined it for me because I found myself utterly not susceptible to and did not believe in the Jonas thing at all from a romantic perspective (literally heard myself say “What utter nonsense!” in my head) although the binding secret thing makes sense but I believe the first reaction to it more than I do the seven years later, twenty, thirty years later one- anyway, good prose, good pacing (I finished this in three days), could not attach to the romantic main plot....more
I quite enjoyed this one! Definitely the most engaging mystery I’ve read in awhile. I appreciated that I thought I had it easily figured out at least I quite enjoyed this one! Definitely the most engaging mystery I’ve read in awhile. I appreciated that I thought I had it easily figured out at least twice, and he knew it, and it was not either of those things. I appreciated how this was as much a discussion of great genre books as it was a story itself. I liked that just before I was going to make a reference myself to what I thought the story was (Roger Ackroyd), he did it himself and changed up the game. I know some people don’t like withheld information and think that’s cheating, but I didn’t mind it in this case. I thought the payoff was worth it, as you figure out it really was the thing you thought it was all along- sort of. With reservations. I also liked the previous Swanson I read earlier this year. That one was far less memorable than the plot of this one though. I think this conceit will stick with me for awhile. Read the whole thing on a lazy Sunday. Recommended for your similar escapist needs....more
Okay, as a teacher, I LOOVVVEDDD the first third of this so much. This part of things is basically a super recognizable portrait of two educator typesOkay, as a teacher, I LOOVVVEDDD the first third of this so much. This part of things is basically a super recognizable portrait of two educator types I know - and have been, emotionally, at some point- that were just so spot on I found a knowing, gleeful little smile curling up my face before I could stop myself. The private little pettiness! The martyrdom! The grudges that feel so real and urgent! The posturing and bending sideways to convince yourself why all this is worth your time. Oh man it was so good. I was kind of sad that we had to get to the murder mystery part- I just wanted to see more teacher types sniping and griping for 300 more pages as they played out their battles over years and endless meetings. The first third was SO GOOOD. Fourth star is for that. Three stars for the rest, which got less and less interesting as it went on. However, I *was* delighted that FOR ONCE we had a thriller involving a teacher that was not about sexual misconduct with a student, which people seem to think is the only thing worth writing about in teachers’ lives or the only thing crazy enough for a thriller that a teacher could be imagined to get up to. Schools are workplaces with all the normal adult drama that goes on at any other workplace. Teachers are people with a lot going on, y’all, and I appreciated how much this was NOT about the kids at all....more
I am wintering. That’s the wheel of the year I'm on. As a teacher, I don't get to winter in the actual winter. From September to late May, I sometimesI am wintering. That’s the wheel of the year I'm on. As a teacher, I don't get to winter in the actual winter. From September to late May, I sometimes feel that I hang in suspension above the usual round of life. I become a functional being- I sleep, I pour everything I have into work ten hours a day, six days a week, I do whatever I can convince my body and mind to do to recover after that each day, I collapse full out on Saturdays, and start the cycle once more. I feel out of time in the worst way-it's the opposite of the cycle that this book tries to remind you of, to push us all to remember. I don't have time to pause to mark the passage of time- other than by working even more because interim reports are due or papers must be returned. It's the time of the endless to-do list. I sometimes feel I become a human task completion machine for several months a year. It's like I put myself and my life on hold and go into a mental, spiritual sleep for nine months just to keep up with the constant demand, then get thrown abruptly up on shore again and my brain's like, "Oh right then...who are you again? What were we thinking before all that happened to us? What threads did I set down just...when was that? Surely just yesterday?”
And then... I winter all summer. Which is why I recognized what May was talking about almost immediately- and identified with her again and again as she went from "Indian Summer" to "Thaw." The start of the cycle where you can't quite stop yourself from continuing to work although you're actually quite done with your tasks. The next stage of guilt about finally getting yourself to stop- although again, no one is asking you to do otherwise. The stage after that where you go into total mental and physical collapse and all the illnesses that have been lurking just under the surface, suppressed by adrenaline and necessity, come to the surface. The slow, halting first attempts at getting up again, and then falling down again because you tried to 0 to 60 it, because that's how you operate. Then the gradual ability to think again returns- to *really* think- to string thoughts together- and the patience and stillness to notice things worth thinking about. Then the beauty returns again, finally. Slowly. And the self, equally hesitant, haltingly, begins to peek out, and remind you who you really are once more. Or who you think you are? It's hard to tell after nine months. It's all shifted a little bit- and you're not sure why.
I've been through this cycle nine times now. I fought it harder the first few times. My review of Possession is a round of me fighting being utterly subsumed in Year 3 or 4. I have found it harder to fight the last few times- and I worry about the accumulating alterations over the year- how my school year persona, as off to one side as I attempt to keep her..well she seeps in. There are parts of her I like- and lots I don't. I want to fight it harder. I try to like I did in my twenties. It gets harder every year-but I'm determined not to give up.
Anyway- that's why I winter every summer. I didn't have this name for it before this book- but it is the perfect one. It's the language I've wanted to justify how deeply underground I go during this time, the random emotional outbursts I have, the amount of quiet I need, the inconsistent personas I display, the ideas I cycle through and discard. And how, somehow, it puts me back together again ready to face another year of teaching with a serene smile on my face.
What does wintering feel like? Well.. it feels... it feels kind of like this:
"...winter sleeps are the best... when I wake in the night, the dark seems more profound and velvety than usual, almost infinite. Winter is a season that invites me to rest well, when I am allowed to retreat and be quietly separate. .. There is not enough night left for us. We have lost our true instincts for darkness, it's invitation to spend some time in the proximity of our dreams. Our personal winters are so often accompanied by insomnia: perhaps we're drawn towards that unique space of intimacy and contemplation, darkness and silence, without really knowing what we're seeking.. Sleep is not a dead space, but a doorway to a different kind of consciousness- one that is reflective and restorative, full of tangential thoughts. In winter, we are invited into a particular mode of sleep: not a regimented eight hours, but a slow, ambulatory process in which waking thoughts merge with dreams and space is made in the blackest hours to repair the fragmented narratives of our days.
Yet we are pushing away this innate skill we have for digesting the difficult parts of life. My own midnight terrors vanish when I turn insomnia into a watch: a claimed sacred space in which I have nothing to do but contemplate. Here, I am offered a place in between, like finding a hidden door, the stuff of dreams. Even dormice know how to do it: they sleep, then wake awhile and tend to business, before surrendering back to sleep.
Over and over again, we find that winter offers us liminal spaces to inhabit. Yet still we refuse them. The work of the cold season is to learn to welcome them."
I found it so telling she acts on this first by attending a St. Lucy's Day mass in London- a ritual that's not her own, in a language she doesn't quite understand literally, but understands completely symbolically, a place that forces her to be quiet and notice beauty all around her. I just... this is what I do, to try to hold onto myself in the early part of the school year. I've become a pointed, giant fan of Michaelmas and St. Crispin's Day every year. I bake a blackberry pie or make jam and share the Michaelmas story every year- I've felt the need to share that story, in fact, every year since my first year of teaching. I started baking a few years after that. I share the Henry V Crispin's Day speech every year in late October- just before Halloween, in fact. I always end up connecting with everyone I know online who is a Shakespeare fan- it's the one day a year we check in with each other, on that post. I set reminders on my phone- it's my last desperate gasping attempts to hold onto time before it gets away from me. I love these rituals- I'm still me, a little bit, in fall. It hasn't quite all faded out yet. One of my first free days around the winter break is almost always the solstice. My ritual is to surround myself with poetry on the winter solstice (a genre that I rarely read the rest of the year, by the way)- It's a big deep breath in as I welcome myself back for two weeks. I'm Catholic- I always thought it had to do with that. I stopped practicing a long time ago, but it runs deep- but now I think maybe it's about wintering. It's about pushing out as much life as I can before I feel totally snuffed out.
Anyway- this is a long way of saying... I felt her. I felt this. I am doing this. July 4th was my small light in the dark- my St. Lucy's. I'm probably somewhere around the solstice in the cycle of wintering now. I have turned the year, as they say then. The glimmers of life are returning. Now, slowly, and in fits, I hope, comes the thaw....more
This was really really lovely and I really really liked it so much. I thank everyone who recommended this one, and look forward to reading the next onThis was really really lovely and I really really liked it so much. I thank everyone who recommended this one, and look forward to reading the next one when I’m in need of a bit of soothing. My only disappointment is that given the ending- as lovely as it is- I’m not sure I can hope to spend more time with Dora and Elias and I wish I could. I wish this was a trilogy or one of those family saga romance series just so I could watch them interact more. One of the more genuine relationships I’ve read in awhile, where I felt like I truly got why it worked. And on top of all it’s gentleness and earnestness, it even had time for nuance with Vanessa and Albert. Just lovely. Really well done. I can’t believe Amazon had it for only $3! ...more
This one was much much better. I really liked the twisted set up. This is not a whodunnit. We know whodunnit by chapter 2, and see inside their head wThis one was much much better. I really liked the twisted set up. This is not a whodunnit. We know whodunnit by chapter 2, and see inside their head with them telling us all about it, just so there’s no doubt about it. Nor is it whydunnit. We know that too. This was something different: A, now that we know all of that... will anything actually come of that or not? Will this guy just keep getting away with it? This was a different way to do the you-in-danger-girl plot line but make it terrifying in a different way. And I genuinely did not see the end twist coming either- which is good because I’d have rolled my eyes far more at this one if I had. But it worked in the moment. Finished it in an afternoon- just what I wanted from a thriller. ...more
We adopted a puppy right after I finished this so I’m much farther away from this than I wanted to be when I wrote a review. (No regrets though-she isWe adopted a puppy right after I finished this so I’m much farther away from this than I wanted to be when I wrote a review. (No regrets though-she is adorable!) But anyway so this is gonna be quick and dirty: This was a super slow burn. Like suuuuppperr slow. And normally that’s fine with me because French does atmosphere and the stab the heart lines so well I don’t even notice. But this time I found this world too starkly... well just stark in all ways, I guess, to not notice. And the secrets and lies of the late middle age masculine rural world were not as compelling to me as other settings and internecine cliquey squabbles have been. This was a crack at the “stranger comes to live in small isolated village,” genre that actively tried to avoid the tropes of that- I’ll give it that. (Though not enough for it not to be about an American fixing up a house in a foreign country for feelings reasons. :)) French did throw in a very determined little girl I think to try to alleviate some of the things I’ve named above, but there was too much caution from the MC about getting to know her, for reasons which in real life I would applaud, but which in fiction make for harder going in terms of connection. Also takes away one of French’s great gifts- the inner lives and secret worlds of people trying to reach and maintain adulthood.
My least favorite French so far, sadly. The only one I would say I found somewhat forgettable. Go read the first three Dublin Murder books instead. They’ll knock your socks off....more
This was... I don’t even know yet. A delight. The quiet sort. A combination of Gormenghast with the best of Valente’s labyrinthine poetic escapes withThis was... I don’t even know yet. A delight. The quiet sort. A combination of Gormenghast with the best of Valente’s labyrinthine poetic escapes with the most intriguing of Strange and Norrell’s footnotes. It was the deep love of words and knowledge of Possession roiling under a surface of apparent calm. It’s deep turn inwards was the perfect fantasia for quarantine, the sort that makes magic out of a prison, that makes a religion out of limitations and symbols, and meaning out of what is left to us to access of the world. It is hushed, mature acceptance that stays steadfast against outrage, it is about having a steady, firm center of yourself that can’t be penetrated or undermined by anyone, at last. It’s about the many people we become over the course of our lives, and the very different truths we care about when we become them and leave our last skin behind, slipping out of it like selkies who put their skins in the trunk for good, just needing to look now and again to Remember (as our main character himself would spell it). It’s like... it’s like if American Gods grew up and became a much wiser grandmother that didn’t care about the day-to-day headlines, one who has earned the right to be beyond it all. It’s... well it’s a spell that I recommend that you don’t fight. I read it in one sitting as darkness fell on one of the liminal days of the year- in the between space between finishing and becoming again, when everything was quiet, even, for once, my mind. And it was perfect....more
Well THAT was great. Finished it in a matter of hours, up far past the time I planned to be. Not perfect- I don’t love stories that give women litmus Well THAT was great. Finished it in a matter of hours, up far past the time I planned to be. Not perfect- I don’t love stories that give women litmus tests around children to prove how good of a person they are or to provide the justification for what happens to them. So I did feel a bit uneasy about that part of this. The twist end was about that too so that made it less fun for me (as good as it was otherwise).
But man did this atmosphere succeed. Man was I fully freaked out when she wanted me to be. Oh wow was I fully invested in those autobiographical chapters. And oh man was I really not at all sure what to think about who did it and what I thought of everyone for most of it, so it was a rip-roaring success from the thriller angle.
This would make an amazing movie. I hope someone adapts this. Whoever did A Simple Favor should do this one, they’d be great at it. Consider my ticket bought in advance....more
I finished this one months ago. I’ve been struggling with what to say about it. I was drawn in initially by a very well chosen excerpt in the GuardianI finished this one months ago. I’ve been struggling with what to say about it. I was drawn in initially by a very well chosen excerpt in the Guardian that I found so thoughtful and atmospheric that I ordered it in hardback from the UK before it was even out here. And it did remain both thoughtful and atmospheric. And honest, which is essential for this sort of thing. And on top of that she’s excellent at depicting how place determines all in this tale- it absolutely envelopes her life. Eats it alive, really. But before we get to the drawbacks of that... there was some magic to it. It wasn’t hard to feel yourself out on a wind-whipped, rocky, misty field with her in an early morning’s bitter chill. And maybe she was so good at it that that’s the reason it was published.
Because otherwise this was just... relentless. This is a story about how a vague yuppie dream of purity and returning to the earth and community and whatever other Lifetime small-towns-are-best thing got crushed beneath the heel of granite-hard reality. And there is no adorable arc where it’s hard for a bit but then she proves herself as tough as nails as everyone else and then she’s a success overnight! Nor does she get taken under the wing of a local until everyone is scolded into accepting her and she becomes a part of the local community like anyone else.
(Spoilers I guess if you care about that sort of thing for this kind of book, from here on out)
Instead... it’s hard work, she proves herself tough as nails... and her reward is for a bunch of men to curse her, show up drunk at her house to intimidate her, belittle her, possibly murder her prize-winning sheep and then get up and do it all over again the next day. She and her husband make repairs, make their rundown farmhouse somewhat livable again... and then he leaves her because he can’t take the monotony and isolation- brings out the absolute (cheating, mean) worst in him. She gets taken under the wing of exactly one local and it leads to... nothing more than that. And then the nice lady fucking dies! So does her kind husband! She gets a dog out of it, I guess. She desperately wants a big farming family of kids... turns out she can’t have them! She considers giving in at one point and going back to the mainland and like... she literally can’t. She’s kind of financially trapped. Even her parents suck! No bright spot with their visits.
Like... fuck, man. It was really really rough. And she seems to get nothing much out of it except... the ability to endure I guess? The ability to keep going? She finds solace in morning swims and dog walks and there are a few people talking to her, by the end, after 15 years. But not many. And they seem to turn on a nasty fucking dime when they feel like it. And I guess there are rewards in just still moving after all that. In making it work and pushing through. I remember feeling some level of that in my early twenties in teaching. But fuuuucckkkk. This is a whole different beast. It’s desperately sad. I don’t even know if I believe her conclusion that tries to suggest she’s come to a kind of peace by the end. It seems more like resignation and acceptance.
I suppose the more power to her for writing it all down to try to make sense of it- which absolutely feels like the purpose of this- but I don’t think she did. On balance, I do not understand why she kept making these choices (at least before she had to) and I, again, don’t believe in any sort of narrative conclusion she had to come to because it was a book. I wanted to buy into this. “One woman’s struggle to make it and find herself in the process...! The beauty of nature and silence...!” But it’s like someone took that and made it grey and dirty and.. I don’t know.. industrial somehow. Just something that happens to you and keeps happening and you’re reporting it and just end it because it’s time to end.
I kind of had the same feeling I did after My Year of Rest and Relaxation. Like... it was well written, I get the point, there were moments of beautiful prose and enveloping atmosphere, pieces of truth... but I don’t know what I got out of either of them except the confirmation that some stuff is the kind of sad that doesn’t have a point. It just is and you keep going. And that’s true. But I don’t know what to do with a book about it....more
Sometimes you just need a classic for a palate cleanser, to remind you that things can be well done. Exposition can be done while plot moves along. I Sometimes you just need a classic for a palate cleanser, to remind you that things can be well done. Exposition can be done while plot moves along. I can figure out what everyone is like from dialogue and actions. I can get atmosphere and setting from hints and judicious description (no one said a word about this being austerity Britain and no one had to- illegal butter trading said it all). I can feel like I know characters quickly and get into a mystery that I care about solving. Yeah. Sometimes you gotta get away from that “for fans of” nonsense and go back to the real thing. Well done, excellent package of a thing from top to bottom....more
By far the strongest plot of the series. It was a bait and switch in the sense that there was no bait and switch and I kept waiting for one to kick inBy far the strongest plot of the series. It was a bait and switch in the sense that there was no bait and switch and I kept waiting for one to kick in, all the way up to the very last page. And she stood her ground and it just did not happen. Well done. Excellent choice. Kind of what I wanted from her in Book 4 with a certain character and didn’t get. I hope she doesn’t walk it back. I loved that we got resolution, but not fully, too. Very realistic for who the victim turned out to be. I love Clara so much. I’ve always thought the little insistent thread of progressivism that shows up in her work is great and I was glad Clara got it this time- she deserves it. I continue to hope she also deserves better than Peter bc he has still yet to justify to me why he is not a waste of space. And Ruth! The quiet gut punch that is Ruth in this one! Poor awful woman- I love her more than Clara. And I really really do want to know what the content of the brutal telling was for poor Emily. Someone actually write that novel, I will preorder. Oh and Therese and Jerome! Plz may they become regular cast characters? I want her job/life/Gamache needs more equals around. And Gamache himself.... I like him as a lens, a background color, a tone setter, a lever that makes things happen more than I am fond of him as a person anymore. Which is maybe what he would most want anyway. And I love the deeply Catholic flavor that’s always thrown all over these books- even and perhaps most when it’s the lightest, most unthinking of sheens, something you could almost pass over and not realize is there. But I was raised Catholic and it’s just in the air these books breathe and it works so well.
What I didn’t like is what I always complain about: the over the top melodramatic writing- which I think I just need to accept is here to stay- which does not allow her characters to have any moderate feelings of any kind, her weird tension breaking jagged cut scenes, her withholding of information at times when it makes no sense to do so, her constant repetition of information we already know to new characters that don’t know it yet but don’t add anything to the story by receiving the information- which tends to stretch the story out across more pages than it needs to. And she gives way way too much space to her red herring storylines.
But it just works anyway. Or this one did. And far more successfully than anything since Book 1. I am on the record as being the OPPOSITE of the “but OMG it gets good later in the series you can’t judge it by the first keep going!” person. I think you absolutely CAN judge it by that and should. If you didn’t like Book 1 and couldn’t put up with Book 2, you’re never going to get on board. The flaws I’ve listed above are freaking annoying and I get it. I’m only talking to the people who were warmed up from the inside out of Book 1 now, who keep going with this series and don’t know really why but something keeps bringing you back: Finally, these are the droids you’re looking for. Skip Book 2 and 3, move forward to 4 or 5 and don’t look back. ...more
This was disappointing, given what huge fans some people are of her work! I was not excited about this letdown- I was really looking forward to cozyinThis was disappointing, given what huge fans some people are of her work! I was not excited about this letdown- I was really looking forward to cozying into this like a Christie, and I so so didn't get that. I did NOT understand the logic behind revealing the murder in advance and walking us through it. It took all suspense out of the novel. I guess it was meant to be kind of dramatic irony or something or some kind of weird anthropological study- which, see below-, but it did not work. Sucked all the life out of it.
Also, I was DEEPLY uncomfortable with horror of the villain of the novel being rooted in her illiteracy and what that supposedly does to a person. I mean, I get the shame part of it, but the way it described her was like she was some kind of savage due to it, and had less of an ability to be kind and compassionate. It was like not being able to read or write meant she never developed proper emotions? Which.... *stares in most of human history*.
A few heart pumping moments at the end when the thing actually happened, but that was about it....more
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