elfs29's reviews
194 reviews

Keegan offers a very poignant snapshot of a small moment in time, indicative of so many larger things. It is difficult to capture the experience of misogyny by both who receives it and who inflicts it, but I think she acutely captured both the remorse and anger of having been wrong, and the many nuances of character that exist within the social structures that define relationships together.

He wanted to deny it, but it felt uncomfortably close to a truth he had not once considered. It occurred to him that he would not have minded her shutting up right then, and giving him what he wanted. 

Murugan explores these characters, this society, in fascinating detail. Saroja and Kumaresan’s relationship is very complex, especially in his naivety and her increasing fear and regret. Even his mother, in all her violence and fury, is a complicated character whose perspective, although absurd, can be understood. Hence, Pyre is truly saddening, full of fleeting and unfulfilled happiness in the face of rigid social structures entrenched above anything else.

‘Later, when we hold the function for our daughter, we will get all these back, you see.’ She wasn’t sure if he truly believed that or if he was saying it merely to comfort her. Isn’t it enough that I am suffering now? Should I give birth to a daughter and watch her suffer too?

The most compelling facet of this story was Harriet - her love, her loneliness, her tenderness and her sacrifices. The regret and guilt that haunts her and the blame she suffers for actions and consequences outside of her control. As a comment on the family and on motherhood, I think Lessing has a lot to say. I’m not sure if Ben’s character could have been handled more deftly, but considering he is seen mostly from his mother’s perspective, his narration makes sense, forcing the reader as far from him as his family feels. 

Her thoughts circled in this groove. David kept saying she simply should not have gone up there, but how could she not have gone, being Harriet? And if she had not, she believed David would have. 
A scapegoat. She was the scapegoat - Harriet, the destroyer of her family. 

Smith’s observations about the family, about race, gender, class, about the tiny thoughts that linger on every small action, are acutely clever. Kiki’s character I especially loved, and with all of them, even those less fleshed out, Smith explored a facet of this society and the very specific effects of them. I wish this story had hinged more on a singular theme, as some of these observations, whilst brilliant, only opened other potential narratives that were never fulfilled, leaving it a little less like a narrative and more like a collection.

Kiki had been quite content for the best part of an hour, just like this, watching the pitchy wind bully the last leaves to the ground - now here was her daughter, incredulous. The older we get, the more our kids seem to want us to walk in a very straight line with our arms pinned to our sides, our faces cast with the neutral expression of mannequins, not looking to the left, not looking to the right, and not - please not - waiting for the winter. They must find it comforting.

Flynn’s comments on girlhood, sex and psychology are acute and fascinating and I think very well executed. As a mystery it wasn’t unpredictable, but as a study of family, inter generational trauma and depression, it was brilliant. I only wish it had leaned more into this psychological study rather than the mystery theme because everything Flynn says about these themes are so interesting that I hate for it not to make up the whole novel.

Every time people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes.

The atmosphere this book creates is both serene and melancholy. The easing of the narrator’s guilt done through the telling of his old friend’s story is very well structured, and leaves the narrator to wonder how much of what they’re told is true. All they know really is how much sadness existed, and how they affected the child twisted within it all. Amongst this, there is also a nuanced commentary on masculinity, relationships, marriage and loss. This book felt very poignant and in its slowness there is certainly a knowing.

He said silently (but nevertheless wanting to be heard) Clarence, you ought not to trust me…half expecting Clarence to answer Why not? If Clarence had, then he would have said Because all my life I have been a stranger to myself. 

Evaristo's writing is so cleverly curated, her character formation so dense, that I was amazed constantly by the relentless dissection of Zuleika's character and life. Imperfect heroines are my favourite characters in fiction, and through Zuleika, Evaristo brilliantly explores power - who has it, what one must do to possess it, how impossible it is to keep it, and whether it was ever real in the first place. The novel being in verse is not tedious but gripping, allowing Evaristo to alter the form and use it to more wholly explore the characters' feelings, and every part unveils and explores another facet of womanhood both in the first century and today.

I was the person this world
created me to be, and so were they,
though who I was becoming,
I was not so sure anymore.
Our lives were in the hands of the gods,
though we could tinker with them, if lucky.