Ratings12
Average rating3
Words are important to Gretel, always have been. As a child, she lived on a canal boat with her mother, and together they invented a language that was just their own. She hasn’t seen her mother since the age of sixteen, though – almost a lifetime ago – and those memories have faded. Now Gretel works as a lexicographer, updating dictionary entries, which suits her solitary nature.
A phone call from the hospital interrupts Gretel’s isolation and throws up questions from long ago. She begins to remember the private vocabulary of her childhood. She remembers other things, too: the wild years spent on the river; the strange, lonely boy who came to stay on the boat one winter; and the creature in the water – a canal thief? – swimming upstream, getting ever closer. In the end there will be nothing for Gretel to do but go back.
Daisy Johnson’s debut novel turns classical myth on its head and takes readers to a modern-day England unfamiliar to most. As daring as it is moving, *Everything Under* is a story of family and identity, of fate, language, love and belonging that leaves you unsettled and unstrung.
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Nope. Not for me. I appreciate the use of language and myth retelling, but it all felt a bit pretentious.
The stream of consciousness / lack of quotation marks jive could be a bit much, but by the end I was hesitant to go for a dip in a river any time soon so I suppose it did its job.
Described as “an eerie, watery reimagining of the Oedipus myth,” Everything Under certainly holds up to its watery image. At times, everything was clear and I enjoyed the setting and the characters. Too often, the water became murky and I had no idea what was going on around me. Strings of lovely written sentences danced with overwrought similes and what the hell is going on in this story anyway? Perhaps this was my own ignorance. Perhaps an understanding of mythology (of which I basically have no knowledge) is required.
I wanted to like this novel, but I told myself I needed to quit. I kept pushing forward, encouraged by rare moments of clarity. I wish I would've given up because nothing improved for me. I truly did not understand 70% of this novel, and that makes me feel stupid. Maybe I am stupid. Or maybe my attention just waned too many times to piece together a narrative. It's difficult to discuss a book I didn't understand, so I'll just leave it at that.