jayisreading's reviews
507 reviews

This was a pretty tough poetry collection for me, mainly due to my lack of familiarity with Singaporean history. Using the orchid and its tending as a metaphor for Singapore’s development and hybrid identity, I got the impression that Mok was considering the orchid’s entanglement with the country’s history, particularly its relationship with colonialism. What I also got from this collection was an implied critique of Singapore’s meticulous cultivation of their historical narrative and identity to appear a certain way, but I could have misunderstood, again, given my limited knowledge—

I really enjoyed how playful and experimental this collection was, with Mok pushing the boundaries of form and style. However, I did expect more poems, but ended up with what to me read more like an archive of sorts. It also seemed as though she was in conversation with other Singaporeans and/or scholars who know the country’s history, especially considering the endnotes (which I quite liked that they were cleverly titled “Trimmed Affixes & Discarded Roots”), but these were conversations I was not entirely privy to.

Overall, I do think this collection is an incredibly unique approach to history, though I imagine Singaporeans in particular will get far more out of it than I did.

I appreciated the quiet and gentle nature of these poems—many experimenting with form and language—and how Wani approached her faith and familial relations (among other themes) throughout this collection. I also enjoyed the almost conversational nature of these poems, both in tone as well as the fact that many of these poems were dedicated to particular individuals or written with another text in mind. I felt that some themes were more developed than others, but there was definitely a common emotional thread running through all of them that the collection still read cohesively.

I think the tenderness of these poems will appeal to quite a few readers, in addition to the fact that they are relatively accessible to those who may not be as comfortable reading poetry. I’ll admit that I personally didn’t feel strongly about the majority of the poems, perhaps the main one standing out to me being “Princess Mononoke (1997),” but I do think Wani is a poet worth paying attention to.

I want to preface this review by saying that I wanted to enjoy this novel far more than I actually did; it really came down to it being a me problem and not a problem with Karunatilaka’s storytelling. I think the main issue was that I picked this novel up at the wrong time and couldn’t quite wrap my mind around the uncategorizable (but definitely something deeply philosophical) nature of it, along with the sheer number of moving parts. Even while I was struggling with the text, though, I was able to pick up on the fact that Karunatilaka is quite the storyteller who can spin something incredible based on his country’s tumultuous history, as well as alluding to literary texts in the process to add further depth (e.g., there were definitely some Kafkaesque moments). With regard to his storytelling, something that I quite liked was how the novel was written in second person. It was a really unique approach and I thought it kept the reader on their toes as things unfolded.

I will say that it will be enormously beneficial to enter this novel with some familiarity with Sri Lankan history and politics, because I know a part of the reason I struggled was because I didn’t have that knowledge. That being said, it seems that there were readers who also had no knowledge and still thoroughly enjoyed this novel, so your mileage may vary. While I may have likely picked this novel up at the wrong time and didn’t enjoy it as much, as a result, I absolutely understand how and why Karunatilaka received the Booker Prize— I rarely come across novels like The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida that are this layered and ambitious. 

I really enjoyed the diversity of this anthology in voices, styles, and ideas to explore cyberpunk from a transfeminine perspective. Some contributions were wild, while others more subdued and serious, but what was especially wonderful was how so many of the authors were more than fine with making cyberpunk to be weird as hell and not just edgy. I also liked how most of the contributors pushed the boundaries of cyberpunk in ways that deeply reflect trans experiences, showing the inextricable link between these experiences with some of the many themes one might encounter in the subgenre (particularly the posthuman). More than anything, though, this collection really demonstrated that it will be trans people who can and will run wild with cyberpunk and make it uniquely their own in the most fascinating ways imaginable. Lastly, I really want to praise the editor, Ann LeBlanc, for uplifting cyberpunk stories that do not go into ableist tropes so often tied to body modifications and the subgenre’s fraught relationship with anti-Asian xenophobia (see: techno-orientalism).

Like any collection and anthology, I found some stories more compelling than others. Overall, though, I enjoyed what everyone had to offer and how each imagined a cyberpunk future.

Some of my favorites: “Bespoke” by Elly Bangs, “Each of Us Is All of Us” by T.T. Madden, “Ghost Is Better Than Being Human, Actually (via FizzRoll.net)” by Adeline Wong, “The Hundred Eyes” by Catherine Kim, and “Anima” by J. Jennifer Espinoza

El Saadawi packs a punch in this relatively short novel with great intensity and frankness to unveil life for many women in Arab societies. She was more than prepared to point out the hypocrisies of men in particular who claim to uphold traditions (cultural and religious, which have their overlaps) while simultaneously twisting them for their own benefit to take advantage of women. El Saadawi doesn’t shy away from describing the terrible things that her protagonist, Firdaus, went through for most of her life. Yet, in spite of everything, Firdaus remained resilient and determined to pursue justice for not only her but also with other women in mind. The novel is not meant for the reader to draw the conclusion that all men are terrible (though there certainly are a lot of terrible men in the world) but, rather, El Saadawi pointing out that anyone (but men, especially) can abuse their power in a society that favors those who uphold patriarchal values to oppress others (notably, women).

On a more technical and structural level, I did find that the novel got a little repetitive. I’m not entirely sure if this was intentional or a result of the English translation, but it was something that stuck out to me a fair bit, especially considering how short the book is. Despite this, I did find that El Saadawi’s message is a powerful and important one, and I’m so glad to see more feminist writers from the global majority sharing these stories.

I so desperately wanted to like this novel, but it ended up failing to meet my expectations. I think the ideas and concepts Chong was playing with were intriguing, but something about the way he delivered these through his writing style and the structural choices just didn’t work for me, and I found them a bit tedious. I was really struggling to follow what exactly was happening, and I can’t help but wonder if this was a result of not being in the headspace for a novel that clearly required a little more brain power than your average book.

I’d like to revisit Flux in the future, perhaps when I’m in the headspace to handle multiple, intertwining narratives with mind-bending details that all seem to matter. I think my biggest gripe that may or may not change on a second readthrough is that I didn’t find the characters particularly interesting, which could have also played a role in why I struggled so much with this book. 

I'm struggling to get into this right now, but I would like to revisit it in the future.

Overall, this was a really thought-provoking collection of writings and thoughts from South African anti-apartheid activist Steve Biko, who I didn’t know anything about until I was recommended to check this book out by a friend. Biko’s thoughts on racism and colonization are specifically within the context of South Africa, and I found them not only informative but also saw resonances of what he was discussing in US history and politics. What I found really eye-opening and relevant to this day was his discussion on white liberals, particularly their vision of a “non-racial” society being deeply flawed and problematic. This collection also provides insight into Biko’s philosophy about Black Consciousness (the term stemming from Du Bois’s concept of double consciousness), which was deeply informed by postcolonial thinkers such as Fanon and Césaire. The Black Consciousness Movement (BCM), founded by Biko, pushed for Black liberation, which he saw not only as a fight for systemic change but also a psychological change within Black people themselves (which, in essence, read to me as decolonizing one’s mind). I think Biko’s charisma really came through in the transcripts of Biko’s responses to the judge and the defense attorney while on trial; it was kind of awe-inspiring to see “in action” how eloquent and articulate he was, on top of the fact that he was only in his twenties. I will say one critique I do have (and this was noted in the foreword) is the noticeable absence of feminism in Biko’s ideology. It would have been interesting to have gotten some insight as to why he didn’t find it important enough to include in BCM.

This collection does get a little repetitive, though I imagine this was not meant to be read from front to back in a matter of days. In the edition I read, there was also a memoir at the end by Father Aelred Stubbs, though I’ll fully admit that I skimmed through it, since I was more interested in Biko’s writings. This was a really informative read, though, and it has inspired me to look for more works by African activists and thinkers such as Biko.

I'm having some trouble focusing on this right now, I think I'll give it another go in the future.

This was an interesting collection of short stories set primarily in Lagos, each story being rather dark and unsettling in nature while centering modern Nigerian culture and society. What I particularly enjoyed about this collection was how vivid Aguda’s storytelling was. She does an excellent job whisking the reader into the vibrant life of Lagos, capturing the sounds and scenery that one might find themselves experiencing if they were in the city. Furthermore, each story had something sinister lurking in the corners that isn’t quite noticeable at first, but increasingly makes itself present to the reader in an eerie fashion.

With that said, I didn’t love this collection as much as I hoped I would. I’m not sure if it was a headspace thing or what, but I found myself skimming through a few stories. There were some really strong ones that I’m still thinking about, though, such as “Manifest” and “The Hollow.” Even if all these short stories didn’t quite work for me, I’m glad to have picked this debut collection up. I’d be really curious to know what Aguda has in store for the future, particularly if she has plans to write a novel. I know I’d pick it up, especially with the distinct voice she has.