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Woahhhhhh. This ALMOST became my favorite Jackson, if not for We Have Always...! Hangsaman (in reference to the 13th major arcana tarot card The Hanged Man) encapsulates perfectly what it's referencing, that period of pause, that moment before spiritual rebirth (the card following Hanged Man, Death). UGH. There's so much more to discuss and praise, but this book is so quiet in its genius. A bit slow in the beginning, but who cares?
This was a lot more kinky than it was spooky! Uhhh I think Magos' perspective and the *last* perspective we get are the strongest, just because they're the most compelling characters of the novel. Everything in between I think could've been a little more powerful. I really wanted more Monstrilio/M in this to be honest!
I accidentally bought this book for an unassuming $27 dollars (100 pages, paperback...you see what I mean) but it was well worth it! Duras, what a treasure
Okay I want to talk about this more. There is obviously some outdated language in regard to gender that I feel doesn't match my modern-day views (published in 1977, for reference), but besides the clear gender binary of “it is only women who inhabit places, not men”, this statement is so profound if we think about it the way Duras intended and not in the domestic, conjugal sense. Because yes, women (any non-man, really) create spaces they call their own rather than simply “use” them; houses, rooms, etc., and not just in the decorating sense (though that is a part of it)...and I know in the year 2025 this is probably so, “well duh”, but idk it's fascinating to see Duras be a pioneer for this topic of conversation almost 50 years ago. Really ahead of her time.
I want to preface my review by saying I think some of the best stories ever are love stories. I love my friends, I love love songs, I love watching love, I love reading about love, I love being in love, I love love. I'm not opposed to romance, contrary to popular belief, I really do love reading romance books. Though, I will say those are more literary than the more popular commercial romance. Moving on, I went into this book with no expectations except good writing (subjective), good plot (objective; basing it off of the rules of this novel's world), and good characters (objective; again, basing it off of the pre-set rules). I set aside my prejudice with most commercial romance books (same plot, different characters, cheesy dialogue, no stakes [or stakes that aren't stakes at all]) and went into this with an open heart too. I practically read this book in the most safest, padded room in my mind...and I still left this book thinking “it was okay”. In all honesty, I did tear up quite a bit, but I think less because of the book, and more because I was reminded of certain things. I think this is where this book is great: in the unconventional, when the writing is not trying to convey so much through obnoxious imagery or metaphors (“I drain my soda like it's my last shot of moonshine before an 1800s doctor pries a bullet from my arm, and then lean forward exaggeratedly again to return my glass to the table” as opposed to the better,”I refuse to cry. Not over something that happened five months ago. Not over someone who's already told me he doesn't want me.” because this says so much more). I also liked the unconventionality of being near someone who hurt you so bad when you still love them; that to me is so interesting; the complicated feelings—there's so much you could do here, but Henry, it seems, does nothing with it except use this situation to fill the typical commercial-romance quota (there's only one bed and they have to share? check. Making each other jealous? check. miscommunication plot that can easily be resolved through one simple conversation, but isn't because they think they hate each other despite grinding on each other to also check off the enemies to over trope? check. steamy sex scenes, but not really, but almost, then YES A SEX SCENE (more on this l8er). check. [I was about to applaud the fact there was no third act final breakup/ fight from the main couple, but then I realized Henry also checked that box off, but with the friend group instead of Harriet and Wyn. ALSO, romantic change your mind at the airport and run back to your lover scene? CHECKKKKKK]). From other reviews, it seems like Henry is taking a risk here (someone complained about this one being too angsty, that Henry should stick to happy stories [huhhhh???]), and I applaud her for that, but I have to disagree and argue that Henry is still playing it safe. Despite the attempt at depth, I argue there is little to none in these characters. I think this is partially due to the fact that the novel states this group of people have been friends for 10 years, and Harriet and Wyn have been together for 8, and yet I left this book not knowing much about anybody except the type-cast Henry has placed them in. Also, do people really talk like this in real-life? I understand, and don't mind the contemporary setting, but every page (literally) had some sort of reference, every page! I understand a book's need to be in conversation with its contemporary setting, but this felt more like name-dropping as a way to create relatability between characters x readers, and even characters x characters. Why is all these friend's dialogue just pun-dropping? Why are we so scared of boring dialogue? I learn nothing about these characters until they have that emotional release, which you could argue is the point, but I counter: seriously, it took these friends ten years to realize they don't know each other as much as they think they do (despite the book's constant back and forth between this idea). Back to the sex stuff. I'm not opposed to it, but damn where Henry put this scenes cheapened the story so much. Any time Harriet and Wyn began to have a deep conversation, it was immediately undercut with a steamy scene that, I feel, undermines their whole relationship. How am I supposed to believe these two characters have such care for each other, when any deep conversation is turned into the next smut scene for readers to fawn over. How am I supposed to believe in them? I think this is partially due to if they did have a deep convo, everything would be resolved, so Henry had to stop them before getting to that point so they could continue their cycle of misinterpretation and miscommunication for the plot. Idk man, I was really hoping for something great, and I just feel like I'll forget about this in a month. I think this story could've been so good if the reason for the breakup was not hidden information, and this book was more of an exploration of two people finding their way back to each other without the thin and stupid veil of enemies to lovers. There just could've been so much more depth. final rating: ( a shallow) 3 (this might change later, idk we'll see).
Okay wow! I've only ever read Levy's non-fiction, which I thought was quite underwhelming (though not unconvincing), but I really, really liked this novel. Much like her non-fiction, Levy's prose is subtle but extremely powerful. Her writing here reminds me of the confidence (I assume) you must have when using a type-writer, the confidence to know you can't (and won't) mess up.
Alaaa me trying to be deep
4.2
This book is very lucky it was the first of the “older, rich, (though, for once not white. It's hard to read about them complaining when they're wealthy) woman living in New York, and has SOME form of mental illness/ decay” is the first I've read in a while...and the fact that it's more interesting because the MC isn't white?? Okay yeah, this ate. I was on hold for like 4 (6?) months at the library, and I'd say it was worth the wait! I usually don't like when books use obvious, obnoxious symbolism (“white police offer greets the black woman police officer; and they hug” the quote goes something like that) but I think Zaher does it well and in a much more interesting way. Also very good writing.
3.5
I cannot say I “enjoy” Penelope Mortimer because her stories are not meant to be. Mortimer is a great writer and I find myself feeling so bleak after her books. This novel, much like “The Pumpkin Eater” feels like danger, a fever dream. “Daddy's Gone A-Huntin” is the encapsulation of my worst nightmare, and Mortimer writes it as such. Fragmented narration, changing perspectives–she does not want you on your feet. Penelope Mortimer wants you, much like her female protagonists, disoriented and unable to BE. You are not in control; like the men in her novels, Mortimer will not allow you, reader, that mercy.
This was a pretty good introspective on a man's loneliness and his harrowing ability to victimize himself for the consequences of his own actions (though, I'd say he gets off the hook pretty easy....he gets everything he wants!). I, personally, am not in the mood to read about such men, having lived them irl. Idk, great writing. There were some really good lines that made me think. Crazy implications about The Pill though!!
