Salka
Extremely disappointing. Maybe there's some comfort in the thought that a Man Booker prize winner can write terribly? Polemical, not fully thought out in terms of plot. No editing evident. Fumbling attempt to write female characters that just end up being unreal cold phantasms of an out-of-touch male mind that can't reach beyond its cishet male gaze. It's amazing how transparently male writers reveal all their complexes around women in their writing of female characters. I really tried to find something I liked about it & all I could think of was that the hardback cover (underneath the weird male gazey dustcover) is a close up of a green parrot's wings. So yeah.
Loved it. Jansson's typically understated brilliance evident. So much going on beneath the surface. An incredible psychologically-aware study of human relationships. Two formidable small-town enigmas meet. Who is using who? Manipulation & erosion or growth? Loss or gain? Together or separate? Arghhh! So much to analyse
I felt this book addressed some of the problems I had with Conversations With Friends; some of what mas missing from the latter, was present here, namely addressing gender power dynamics and adding a contrasting narrative voice.
Rooney somehow manages to communicate a very specific type of internal female voice that I haven't seen brought to life so vividly before.
I do feel like the only aspect of her writing that sits uncomfortably with me is that she writes as someone who hasn't moved through or transcended these experiences yet; she's still in them. The perspective is valuable and utterly absorbing, but I wanted the characters to grow beyond their experiences in a more profound way.
One niggle that persisted on from Conversations with Friends, is just an overwhelming vibe of middle class whiteness and fake-wokeness (the handling of class issues is kind of heavy-handed). There doesn't seem to be an authorial awareness of this either, nor the characters' inability to strive for anything other than a vaguely conservative BoBo mediocrity.
The topic of this book is intensely relevant. I did not enjoy this book for its writing or structure- it seems hastily put together & needed a restructure, re-write & research with more depth. Its publication does, however, hopefully signal an opening up of the issue of how we discuss, research, diagnose, & treat women's health. In this sense it attempts to make a critical contribution to the gender equality and public health debate. Ask any woman about the themes in this book and it will resonate with their personal experience or the personal experience of a close female relative/friend.
I loved this book so much. I thought the first half was the best written and I relished the combination of gleeful abandon and authenticity, gravitas and flip, fierce love, gentle grace, rollicking adventure and audacious poeticism that make Winterson such a wonderful writer.
“Sexing the Cherry” is definitely the literary relative/offspring of Virginia Woolf's Orlando, and Winterson is in many respects, a worthy heir to her vision, albeit with a more earthy, humour-filled, action-oriented voice. There is less logic, less careful observation, and more pure feeling, provocation, and chaotic life here. Somewhere between the Dog Woman and the boy Jordan we can locate Orlando plainly, despite appearances.
I liked it, but it didn't feel special. It was a story that you wanted to get to the end of and evocative of the time, but lyricism and poeticism in the writing was rare.
It was dark, and murky, and there was little lightness, hope, or deeper meaning to the story, for me.
I appreciate its historical accuracy and the research this story was built on. I'm probably more interested in historical fiction from other parts of the world.
Mostly read it because it's by an Australian woman writer.
The voice of the narrator, her character, sense of humour, worldview, & her connection to & love for her community are so strong in this tale of Gandhian satyagraha & Congress' efforts at swaraj come to small-town South India. Our narrator - an older aunty of the village of Kanthapura - is the perfect voice to communicate the experience of this time for everyday rural Indians, and her story unfolds as if she is relating a series of events to us, perhaps acquaintances or family of a neighbouring village. Those with an interest or familiarity with the history will perhaps get more out of it, as there are many layers of tradition, cultural practice, & politics to process, but there is a handy glossary of cultural terms for the less familiar. An immersive & wonderfully captivating read.
If a masterpiece can be defined as the ability to poetically and unshrinkingly circle despair, hope and love and to find meaning there, Richard Flanagan has delivered us yet another of this class.
The cruel, torturous suffering and darkness is balanced by equally authentic evocations of love and light. The story unfolds with craftsmanship and care, and weaves between episodes of the protagonist's life in Australia, early and later, with the episodes of horror he experiences as a WWII POW labouring on the Thai-Burma Railway under the Japanese forces.
There were moments when I held my hand to my heart and gasped with joy at the lyricism and depth of Flanagan's prose, particularly when the words of Joyce and Basho are revered and their invocations - the invocations of high poetry - come to life in the emotions and lives of the so-real-you-can-almost-touch-them figures that feature in The Narrow Road to The Deep North”s pages.
The recurring motifs and orchestral storytelling, the lyricism, the literary nous and heft, the historical authority, the tender touch of personal connection, all converge to embody the living certitude that Flanagan himself is a poet, whose poetry is contained in a novel. This is his ode to what it means to live, love and hope. Ultimately, though it be sacrilege in the face of this book's complexity and beauty, if a message can be distilled, it is that to love is to hope, and to live is to hope, and it is this hope which must be the stuff of our being, what gives shape to our lives and animates them.
An irrevocable addition to the hall of Australian literary fame.
This masterpiece is written like water - the rhythms of its words, moving and flowing back and forth in time, and characters that bleed into each other - ‘real life' and imagination, illusion, delusion are indistinct, and the distinction is irrelevant. This book is Neptune incarnate. It is brilliant, brutal, beautiful, bewildering, horrifying and fascinating.
Its brilliance is in its evocation of the true timbre of colonial Tasmania that treads the knife-edge between a fictionalised baroque fantasy and historical record.
Immediate Australian classic. Bit tough-going at times, but crazy piece of genius storytelling.
I wrote the following review as a student piece in 2010, not long after first reading Tall Man: The Death of Doomadgee, or as it was titled then, ‘The Tall Man':
Written by Walkley award-winning journalist Chloe Hooper, The Tall Man is a highly nuanced and penetrative account of the author's observations while on Palm Island during the inquiry into the death in police custody of Cameron Mulrunji Doomadgee.
‘On 19th November 2004, a drunk Aboriginal man had been arrested for swearing at police. Less than an hour later, he died with injuries like those of a road trauma victim. The State Coronor reported there was no sign of police brutality, backing up the police claim the man had tripped on a step. The community did not agree, and a week later burnt down the police station. Police immediately invoked emergency powers, flying in special squads trained in counter-terrorist tactics, who arrested countless locals including teenagers and grandmothers. I went there two months later' (from The Tall Man, 2008, 8).
With the recent re-opening of the inquiry into the death of Cameron Mulrunji Doomadgee, The Tall Man provides a powerful exploration of not only the particular details and background of the Doomadgee case, but also a compelling account of the contemporary imbroglio of indigenous-police relations in North Queensland. I found myself drawing parallels to George Orwell's Burmese Days and Conrad's Heart of Darkness in the pressing maelstrom of inercultural misunderstanding and folly Hooper evokes.
From a legal perspective, The Tall Man is fascinating in that it reveals the inefficiency and inappropriateness of the justice system in its current form to the Palm Island community. However the distinguishing feature of The Tall Man I found to be its broader commentary on how little Australia has developed in reconciling indigenous Australia with white colonial Australia, remote rural Australia with centralised, urban Australia, and the corresponding ramifications for present and future justice and peace in our society.
If anything Chloe Hooper's book succeeds in demonstrating the integral role the justice system will play in determining whether our communities are brought together or driven further apart.
Gobbled it up. Thriller meets historical fiction meets gothic colonial escape meets Cheryl Strayed's Wild meets Mary Oliver??? idk. 4 stars.
It was with anticipation that I sat down to read Eleanor Catton's The Luminaries. I did so not long after it was announced that the young author had won the Man Booker Prize in 2013. I was excited to be reading a novel so acclaimed, yet written by a young woman, of similar age and similar antipodean extraction to myself. As an astrology enthusiast, I was also curious to see how Catton had executed a plot structured according to astrological sensibilities.
Although the book is dense - definitely a ‘doorstopper' in the traditional sense- I found the narrative engrossing and compelling. In brief, The Luminaries is a murder-mystery set in nineteenth century New Zealand. For the most part, events take place in a weatherbeaten and isolated town built upon the gold rush and its surrounding coastal region. Everyone is looking to make something of the boom, though all in their own ways.
Catton's cast of characters are positioned to represent both the planets and the twelve zodiac signs, and their personalities designed to manifest their respective astrological traits. Not only the characters in Catton's novel, but all the story's events are written to correspond to the stars' position in the heavens. In this way, one chapter may manifest the square of Uranus in Capricorn and Venus in Pisces, for example. And there is another layer, that is evident to the reader as they progress, which is that the length of the chapters themselves are measured to correspond to the waxing and waning of the lunar cycle.
There is no denying the structural genius and penetrative research that Catton demonstrates in this work. Though with all the focus on timing and astrology, I felt that perhaps an element of the human was lost in the emphasis on the engines of fate, so to speak. At times I felt it difficult to connect to characters, not least because Catton's chosen style, though executed with great grace, necessitated shifting the narrative from one character's experience to another's. In terms of astrology too, the characters were restricted to wholly manifesting almost one sign or planet exclusively, rather than a more realist portrayal of nuanced influences that modern astrology generally takes. There was a dryness to the story, I felt, and a magic left out of it, for all the calculation. I was never transported, or truly moved. This is not to say I don't admire Catton's breaking of new ground. Reading it was quite a rigorous exercise - in all senses, but one which I nevertheless was happy to partake in, though it fell short of my high expectations.
This book definitely lives up to the hype. Well written, engaging and balancing pith with pathos, it really is more of a psychological journey of healing than a comedy. There is wit, but it was the insight that grabbed me.
I had originally typecast Sally Rooney into a particular brand of light bestseller fiction for Karens. I feel like this book does fit into that genre, but there is definite perspicacity and depth to the observational skill of her writing and its ability to communicate layered depths in her protagonist. There were parts that didn't sit comfortably, particularly the way the power dynamics between the male and female characters where left in a dangerously ambivalent space. I think the story would have benefited from including perspective of the older male character or an older female character.
I wanted the characters to make better choices and others to face some culpability.
No-one, however, can deny the utterly original voice with which Rooney writes, and the engaging compulsive readability of her writing.
Meh, I enjoyed Brene Brown's talks more I think. Her style definitely suits more of an in-person presentation/video than written. I did like the way she introduced/adapted Maria Popova's note-taking/reflective framework. I guess having seen her talks via TED and Netflix, this was nothing new for me.
Could not get through the first couple of chapters. Mostly because: casual racism. The fact that Tartt repeatedly feels the need to keep referring to minor characters using weird vague nondescriptive labels like “small Asian man” and reinforcing cultural stereotypes. Blergh.
The only information “Asian” provides is something regarding appearance - & even then not much. Why? WHY?
More books like this please! It's great that it exists & more people should read ut. What it's saying should not be revolutionary but unfortunately for many, it will. Many readers will find reassurance & information that should have been accessible to them a long time ago. As far as self-help books go, it does use legit research & contains some useful exercises! Therapists should read it!
I didn't enjoy it as much as White Teeth-but still a cut above most of the other ‘modern literary fiction' out there!
One of the funniest & well written books I've ever read. An instant fave. Fans of Zadie Smith & Salman Rushdie, hell, even David Sedaris, will love this.