The Border of Paradise

would like to preface this with the following: for maximum...enjoyment (uhhh) you should get into this book knowing nothing about it at all.

definitely a miserable read. finishing this makes me feel like i've run a marathon except the marathon went for way too long and i don't feel any excitement in finishing just a vague sense of relief and a weight on my chest.

but it's an interesting meditation on space—we move from a journey that crosses an entire ocean, to a strange and dream-like (i'm thinking soft, weerasethakul-like images with understated lynchian horror kind of dreams here) narrative that unfolds in the confines of a house that is both large and small at the same time. maybe it's because i've not read enough, but the way that esme works with space in this book is amazing. you feel the boundaries of the worlds she creates tangibly shrink and grow. the claustrophobia. and then, the absolute fear of vastness. it's real cinematic, so that's why i keep thinking of films when i'm talking about this book. mental illness, and the rippling effects of mental illness—the person who is ill, and the people around them—is a central theme in this novel and as a result, with this control over space, esme definitely shows how mental illness affects the way in which we perceive and are receptive to our reality, or at least, the “unrealness” of it.

i can't stop thinking of good films/tv with regards to this novel. some more images: true detective's bleak, gothic images of southern america; ari aster's nightmare of a filmography; edward yang's pastel-colored, uncertain taipei. the writing is beautiful. the narrative: slow, strange, otherworldly.

it is not by any means a bad piece. but i just can't like it. it is just barely forgivable that this is by a writer of color because i don't know how much i would be willing to forgive her two main characters of color if esme had been a white writer. there i said it!!! perhaps i am not seeing the “right” picture here but it made me unhappy that the few characters of color became so much more unforgivable while their white counterparts were portrayed as more sympathetic victims. this disconnect really hurt me! i wish that their backgrounds—specifically daisy's—played a more important role than just inflicting misery.

there are more things i have to think about regarding this work but that's about all i have to say now. it was wonderful, but very painful, and the ways in which the pain was inflicted were, in my eyes, rather questionable.