One of the best books I’ve ever read. I rarely award books five stars, and even when I do, it doesn't necessarily mean the book is one of my favouriteOne of the best books I’ve ever read. I rarely award books five stars, and even when I do, it doesn't necessarily mean the book is one of my favourites of all-time. I've read hundreds of books in my life, and I'd my all time favourites list sits around ~15 novels. That list now includes FAREWELL, GHOSTS by Nadia Terranova.
Ann Goldstein is a master of translation (who translated many of Elena Ferrante's novels, including the Neapolitan Quartet), and combined with Terranova's beautiful prose it really makes for a stunning novel. If this wasn't a library copy, I would have highlighted and underlined the vast majority of the book. It's a beautiful reflection on grief, loss, innocence and home.
The novel is about Ida returning to her family home after her mother decides to sell it. The home and objects within it are reminders of Ida's upbringing and the unexpected disappearance of her father 23 years earlier. Both Ida and her mother are profoundly shaped by this loss and frozen in time. Grief hangs over them and as time passes, they grow no closer to understanding her father's fate. Ida comes to accept how much the world around her has changed, and begrudgingly reckons with how her father's disappearance profoundly shaped her adolescence.
Farewell, Ghosts is slow, introspective and taut with tension. It beautifully captures the nuances of memory, grief, and unpacking the often complicated relationships we have with home. Set in the idyllic Italian countryside, it's a reminder than even the most scenic places hold loss, turmoil and regret. I cannot recommend this book enough - it is so poignant and moving.
Didion is not an especially vulnerable or unguarded writer, so I hesitated to see how she would approach such a raw and personal subject. I've always Didion is not an especially vulnerable or unguarded writer, so I hesitated to see how she would approach such a raw and personal subject. I've always appreciated her candid tone and eye for detail, and The Year of Magical Thinking is no different. Where it stands above her other writing is how she uses a near-journalistic approach to the concept of death and grief as much as she intertwines her own experience. Didion is one of my favorite authors ever, and this is some of her best writing. You hope you never need to pick up this memoir or relate to its contents, but its comforting to know it exists when you need it.
Didion's approach to understanding John's death takes roots in her journalism background. She integrates science and personal anecdotes to unravel the circumstances that led to her husband's fatal heart attack in 2003. Death is the only true inevitability we face, and the poignant reflections on mortality and memory here are beautiful. Grief is a universal emotion we all encounter in some capacity which leaves the memoir feeling timeless.
If you're expecting a deeply moving or personal memoir about Didion's life, I don't think you'll find it here. While there is vulnerability, she remains guarded and deliberate with the stories she tells. However, if you're a fan of Didion's writing and want to get a better understanding of her thought process and reflections, I'd highly recommend this. It rivals some of the essays in The White Album for me, and I know this will stick with me.
no tea but I would have def won these games —â¶Ä”â¶Ä”â¶Ä”â¶Ä� can't believe the release date of this isn't a national holiday???no tea but I would have def won these games —â¶Ä”â¶Ä”â¶Ä”â¶Ä� can't believe the release date of this isn't a national holiday???...more
Really torn between awarding this a 3 or a 3.5, but regardless this is another beautifully written entry from Baltasar. Picking up her collection fromReally torn between awarding this a 3 or a 3.5, but regardless this is another beautifully written entry from Baltasar. Picking up her collection from the library on a whim was one of the best decisions I've made - her prose is incredible and her books are the perfect length to convey the messaging.
The triptych follows variations of women versus the void with the central theme of motherhood. They can be read in any order, though I think generally people prefer publication order. Whereas Mammoth focuses on a narrator becoming a mother, Permafrost is about a terse relationship between mother and daughter and how it shapes our perspectives. I especially appreciated this from the perspective of a queer woman, where her relationships (both romantic and otherwise) with other women are impossible to disentangle from her familial ties to her sister and mother.
The novel is sardonic and quippy, not entirely dissimilar from Eve Babitz. The narrative is non-linear in this entry as we move across space and time to the different formative memories of our narrator. As the title suggests, these are the experiences that penetrate her permafrost (both literally and figuratively, heh). Her detachment from life and ambivalence to her future are only resolved by transient experiences, and she finds herself in an endless cycle of detachment and connection. She constantly flirts with the idea of suicide and her close proximity to death, but the writing takes appropriate caution in glamorizing or sensationalizing what is otherwise a touchy subject.
In isolation, each entry in the novella is solid, but some fragments felt disconnected from the larger narrative. I am in the minority in that I preferred Mammoth to this, but nonetheless it is a superbly crafted piece of writing....more
This is a beautifully written (and translated) novella that perfectly encapsulates a woman versus the void. Baltasar is such a talented writer, and thThis is a beautifully written (and translated) novella that perfectly encapsulates a woman versus the void. Baltasar is such a talented writer, and the isolated countryside setting reminded me of The Wall, another book I devoured.
Mammoth is hard to summarize in any meaningful sense. We follow a disenchanted and disillusioned narrator who leaves her city life behind to live a comparably solitary and idyllic life in the countryside. The titular mammoth that looms over her is the draw of motherhood, for reasons not entirely apparent to the reader. Her search of purpose and validation leads her to an infatuation with childbearing and motherhood, but the novel is also about so much more than that. She touches on sex, gender roles, capitalism, and dignity in ways that feel novel and poignant. I highlighted so many quotes in this for their sheer relatability and prose.
The only thing holding this back from a 5 star for me is the ending; I appreciated what Baltasar was trying to do, but I wish some of the protagonist's decisions were interrogated further. In a character-driven novel with minimal external forces, it necessitates a bit more context and rationale to support the ending. Our protagonist needs some form of opposition or counter argument to flesh out the minute details behind the key themes. My other gripe is the scene of animal abuse, which makes sense in the context of the plot but is a trigger I generally find gratuitous and unsuccessful.
I've heard many good things about Baltasar and her tryptic and finishing this was my sign to dive into the other entries! Would highly recommend for a poignant and bingeable literary gem....more
[3.5 stars] This was my first read from Hendrix and I had a good time with it! Thank you to Bloomsbury who sent me a copy.
I don't honestly have much t[3.5 stars] This was my first read from Hendrix and I had a good time with it! Thank you to Bloomsbury who sent me a copy.
I don't honestly have much to say about this one - it is a linear (albeit overly long) story about a home for pregnant teenagers and the corruption they experience. Despite being set in the 1970s, much of the narrative surrounding the autonomy of women (particularly teenagers) and corruption still applies today. It is very on-the-nose with its messaging, which I didn't necessarily mind given the premise of the book and the experiences of the characters before the events of the novel. The ending was predictable but wholesome, albeit the number of loose ends is glaring.
This is marketed as a horror and/or fantasy novel, and I think that's my biggest critique. The horror in this is undeniable, but rarely intersects with the magical or fantastical elements in the story. The horror is mostly relegated to body horror surrounding pregnancy and childbirth, which is valid - just not what I anticipated from the marketing. Similarly, witchcraft plays less of a role in the book than I would have liked.
Nonetheless, the characters are charming but ultimately lacking in dimension for me to award this any higher than a 3.5. The novel is needlessly long and has some glaring pacing issues, but it still is an enjoyable read nonetheless. I found this hard to put down and entertaining, so I can't critique it too much!...more
Whoever did the marketing on this book needs a raise, or jail time - I’m not sure. Making a book about absolutely nothing sound interesting is a feat,Whoever did the marketing on this book needs a raise, or jail time - I’m not sure. Making a book about absolutely nothing sound interesting is a feat, but also the synopsis feels wildly misrepresentative of the contents of the book.
I found the writing in this to be dry and stilted, and I don’t even understand what the heck this was about. It’s a series of vignettes about colonialism, religion, climate change, race, grief, biology, relationships and lord knows what else - but none of it landed for me. The last 30% left me scratching my head.
I was debating giving this a two stars because a one star always feels so harsh, but honestly this was such a slog to get through and I kept hoping for things to turn around and they simply never did. RIP to the $20 I spent on this, you will be missed. �- calling this a "crime novel" is the same thing as calling Die Hard a Christmas movie... it's not wrong but...well......more
An excellent non-fiction that delves into the complexity of gender from a variety of periods and cultures. Heyam does an excellent job of emphasizing An excellent non-fiction that delves into the complexity of gender from a variety of periods and cultures. Heyam does an excellent job of emphasizing the subjectivity of the past and how our understanding of gender in the modern context cannot be retrofitted to cultures or eras it doesn't belong to. For a topic that is inherently contentious and fraught with revisionism and bias, I think the chapters provide sufficient critical analysis while also respecting the ambiguity of history.
Despite the short length and relatively accessible language, I did find this a bit dense. It has a LOT of information packed into each section, which on one hand is excellent to get you thinking about gender in a variety of ways, but also makes it hard to absorb everything at once. I think this is a great entry piece to learn more about gender, and then based on what fascinates you most, you can use the references to delve deeper into certain topics.
My favorite section explored the fraught history between intersex and trans individuals - it helped recontextualize a lot of the similarities in how these groups have been marginalized, but also how much of the social progress in certain groups within the queer umbrella has benefited from the further marginalization of other groups.
Shameless plug: This is our February 2025 pick for my book club, ! If you're interested in reading more queer literature (both fiction and non-fiction), I encourage you to join!...more
[4.5 stars] I thought this was witty and hard to put down, but I wanted a tiny bit more from the ending. Full review to come! �- i once dated a gay prie[4.5 stars] I thought this was witty and hard to put down, but I wanted a tiny bit more from the ending. Full review to come! �- i once dated a gay priest so I feel exceedingly qualified to give romance novels like this the spotlight they deserve <3...more
[3.5 stars] The premise of Tender Is the Flesh is well known at this point - after a virus infects animals, civilization shifts to farming and process[3.5 stars] The premise of Tender Is the Flesh is well known at this point - after a virus infects animals, civilization shifts to farming and processing humans for mass consumption. Many other dystopian novels feature cannibalism or ethical breaches similarly, but I appreciated Bazterrica's perspective more than I anticipated.
While the novel is intensely disturbing and grotesque, it isn't far removed from reality. Animal agriculture and testing often employ most of the brutal techniques the book depicts - it's only when we swap out animals for humanity that it seems to instill some level of shock value. It leaves you thinking about how desensitized we are to farming and the historical reasons why Western culture shies away from eating offal or certain animals (while also villainizing the cultures that do). I'm not vegetarian, but I've always had a complicated relationship with eating meat (who doesn't?) and the perspectives offered in the book left me reflecting. Class, cultural norms, and optics play into a lot of the central conflict while still being subtle and nuanced. I appreciated how the novel didn't shy away from the horrific realities of human livestock and directly addressed the euphemisms used about meat and consumption. The descriptions are visceral and brutal, but necessary.
Based on everyone's reviews, I was expecting a shocking ending. I had a few hypotheses of how things would play out, but even I was surprised by the last few sentences! For a book this fast-paced and unrelenting, it felt like the perfect way to tie everything together. If you liked this, I'd recommend Suture for similarly disturbing body horror and commentary.
Calling it quits at 35% - I am unfortunately not enjoying the writing style or execution of what is otherwise a promising premise. I can see where thiCalling it quits at 35% - I am unfortunately not enjoying the writing style or execution of what is otherwise a promising premise. I can see where this is going and I appreciate the creativity behind the story, but it's not one I feel compelled to stick with any further. Too many plot points are created out of convenience and flat relationships without much appeal.
It tries to straddle too many genres without success, and it feels very young adult for my taste....more
[4.5 stars] In a climate where we are inundated with books about obsession and unhinged women, it takes a lot for a book to stand out in any positive [4.5 stars] In a climate where we are inundated with books about obsession and unhinged women, it takes a lot for a book to stand out in any positive way. I've been hit-or-miss with several similar books to Creep (notable misses include Pizza Girl and I'm a Fan, while My Husband and Eileen both worked well for me). I'm happy to report Creep does this subgenre justice and provides something substantive and worth interrogating.
We follow Alice, a disillusioned 20-something with little ambition beyond her gig-work cleaning job. Every Wednesday she cleans Tom's flat, and from the onset, it's clear she is deeply obsessed with him. She fantasizes about their love and life together despite never interacting with him beyond his routine five-star reviews and tips. I won't go into any more detail about how this evolves, but I quite enjoyed the pacing and meticulously crafted suspense.
Many books about obsession expect the reader to take the premise at face value, with little time spent interrogating why the character finds themselves obsessed in the first place. Creep offers a much-needed depth to Alice's obsession by slowly revealing her past and fraught relationship with her family. Her eating disorder and body dysmorphia, race, and mother all play a pivotal role in the development of her obsession. Despite her unjustifiable actions, she remains a narrator who strikes the perfect balance of pity and sympathy for the reader.
The writing may be hit-or-miss for some readers, but I felt the stream-of-consciousness style of the audiobook works perfectly. Hanako Footman does a superb job narrating, and reading this via audio helps mitigate the feeling of redundancy or repetitiveness of certain passages. The climax and ending aren't perfect, but avoid veering too far into cliches. For a debut, I think this is very solid and does a great job of refreshing a story that otherwise could have been mundane....more
I was torn between a 3.5 and a 4, but this deserves a 4. I read this via audio and would have preferred it as a physical read - some of the hazy sceneI was torn between a 3.5 and a 4, but this deserves a 4. I read this via audio and would have preferred it as a physical read - some of the hazy scenes that pass through time and space seamlessly get a bit muddled on audio. A book like this deserves your undivided attention, and I think I missed out on some of the subtle connections!
With that said, I still really enjoyed this. The premise is simplistic and mundane but so beautifully executed. The first part of the novel follows Kyungha's unmooring and her later journey to Jeju, and though it is monotonous and slow, I think the delivery perfectly reflects the conditions she finds herself in. In the subsequent two sections, we learn more about Inseon's family and the broader dark history of Jeju Island. They're interrelated narratives, but I think the story would have benefitted from more of Kyungha's presence in the latter half. I was unfamiliar with the Jeju Uprising before reading this novel, and it provides a lot of justice and respect for a horrible event that has been seldom acknowledged.
Kang uses symbolism and imagery to weave together past and present. Snow, dreams, blood, and fingers are recurring symbols in the novel, and they do an excellent job of capturing the trauma inherited by survivors and their offspring. The land serves as a physical reminder of hurt and healing, even if time and government interference have lessened the brutal reality of the Jeju Uprising. Inseon and Kyungha's titular art project is fascinating, and I would have loved a more conclusive ending with less ambiguity to better understand how it evolved.
We Do Not Part is ultimately a novel about perspective as much as it is about violence, friendship, and art. Historical events as experienced by the survivors, and as described decades later. Inseon and her outward persona contrasted against her inner turmoil. The snowstorm that makes Kyungha recontextualize everything. It's a beautifully written and powerful story, and I am excited to read Human Acts next....more
DNF at 50%, with the giant disclaimer that I didn't realize this was YA when I picked it up. I know plenty of readers who enjoy YA, but it typically dDNF at 50%, with the giant disclaimer that I didn't realize this was YA when I picked it up. I know plenty of readers who enjoy YA, but it typically doesn't resonate with me as much - in this case, the foreshadowing is very heavy-handed. The expositions about marine biology feel out of place and there's no clear explanation as to why these characters seem to know more than the adults around them. With that said, more explicit foreshadowing and fast pace is typically expected for a younger audience so it's not a critique of the book or writing, but more the type of books I tend to enjoy.
With that tangent aside, I did like the integration of Vietnamese folklore and queer representation from the characters. There are meaningful discussions about race, trauma, and belonging that are important for any reader to absorb. My major critique is that some of the descriptions of settings and events don't make sense. I found myself re-reading passages often to try and make sense of what was happening, and in some cases, I had to give up and move on in the hopes of subsequent clarity. It makes the world-building and pivotal scenes hard to understand and ultimately lessens the impact. I do have an ARC and not the finished copy, so hopefully, there's a much-needed round of edits happening before this is published.
Thank you to Bloomsbury for sending an early copy of this my way!...more
[3.5 stars] A clever and experimental read that delves into memory, storytelling, and their intersection. Not entirely dissimilar to Brat, this breaks[3.5 stars] A clever and experimental read that delves into memory, storytelling, and their intersection. Not entirely dissimilar to Brat, this breaks the fourth wall and inserts the author into a fictional narrative.
We follow Munir, G, Ernesto, and Alex as they embark on an adventure to the south of France. They intend to spend their summer doing manual labour gig work, but things get increasingly complicated with their housing situation and precarious work opportunities. Munir recounts their misadventures through journal entries and uses the introductory chapters to establish boundaries and expectations with the reader. There are lots of literary references (some of which I understood, some of which I didn't), and it uses these to help rationalize and motivate what is otherwise a very subversive way to recount a story.
The horror in the novel is literal, emphasizing the agricultural industry's mistreatment and inhumanity toward its workers and animals. I usually steer away from books with detailed animal violence, but this uses these scenes to make commentary about exploitation, capitalism, class, and politics, so it never feels gratuitous. Beyond that, there's also a mystery subplot about the relationship between different agricultural companies and their potential role in the death of workers.
This novella has a little bit of everything and does a solid job of executing all of them. I liked each individual idea, but I'm not sure if their combination was much stronger than the sum of their parts. I enjoyed my time with this and would recommend it as a book that makes you think and reflect, but it's not something I'd be immediately thrusting to the top of my TBR....more
After adoring The Anthropologists, diving into Savas' backlist felt like an inevitability. White on White has a similar ambiguity surrounding time andAfter adoring The Anthropologists, diving into Savas' backlist felt like an inevitability. White on White has a similar ambiguity surrounding time and place, and equally stunning prose. The narrative style is reminiscent of Cusk's Outline - our narrator remains largely an observer with little direct interaction or commentary.
The book's premise involves an art student working on their doctoral research while navigating a terse relationship with their landlord's wife Agnes who unexpectedly moves in. Agnes is the primary focus of the novel and she spends much of her days reflecting on her perceived shortcomings, her past, and her dissolving marriage. The conversations in the novel center around Agnes' memories and her career as an artist. With the power dynamic between Agnes and the narrator constantly shifting, it raises questions about friendship: Are we indebted to those who offer us their past? How much transparency does a relationship necessitate to even exist?
The book's concept is interesting - the narrator is a blank canvas who witnesses Agnes' slow unraveling without intervening or reacting. The ending is quiet yet powerful and has a good "twist" for an otherwise simplistic narrative. Where the book lost me is in our narrator's tangents about their research and statues; I understand both the thematic and literal ties to the story Savas is trying to tell, but it didn't feel harmonious in execution. For a narrator intended to be a blank slate, I think this commentary would have been better placed from Agnes herself or another external source. The broader discourse around art and nudity felt highbrow at times, and ultimately just didn't land for me. Nonetheless, the writing is superb and I love the use of repetition in certain passages.
"She used to think that there were winners and losers in friendship, just as there were in romantic affairs and marriages. The score might change over time, fortunes might reverse, but it was always the case that points accumulated on one or the other side." ...more
My second favourite read of 2025 so far - it didn't beat out North Woods, but dang this was incredible. There is something to be said about writing My second favourite read of 2025 so far - it didn't beat out North Woods, but dang this was incredible. There is something to be said about writing a character that is so damn delusional and self righteous that you almost find yourself agreeing with them. Jessamyn St. Germain, I never once doubted you.
She's a Lamb! is a story about a struggling triple threat who hasn't been given the chance she deserves. She's one breakout role away from stardom, and it's a total injustice that her talent is rarely acknowledged. Sure, she's dropped out of theatre school (why learn from people less talented than you?) and struggles to book anything in regional theatre whatsoever... but she's completed a litany of vocal lessons from a Tony-award-winning coach and has a robust repertoire of low-budget commercials under her belt. She's a star waiting to be discovered.
I laughed out loud at several moments in this, and the slow descent into sheer insanity was beautiful. The ending was expected, but the journey to get there had so many great moments that it made it all worth it. Jessamyn is a completely delusional and unhinged narrator, but seeing the world through her eyes is fascinating. The audiobook narrator does an excellent job of capturing her indignation and desperation.
[4.5 stars] I love an author who has such a distinct point of view and voice that you could quickly identify their writing from just a few sentences. [4.5 stars] I love an author who has such a distinct point of view and voice that you could quickly identify their writing from just a few sentences. I enjoyed Huang's debut Natural Beauty and was eagerly awaiting the release of Immaculate Conception. After devouring this in 24 hours, I can confirm that I think it is even better than her debut.
The book could not be more timely as it confronts the threat of generative artificial intelligence to the livelihood of artists. We follow Enka and Mathilde, two burgeoning talents in art school with a bright future ahead of them. When their college announces the public release of a generative AI tool that creates art instantaneously, the entire art world is thrust into chaos. Artists enter ugly legal battles over copyright to their own ideas, the public becomes accustomed to instant gratification, and artists are forced to find ways to adapt. Artists are only deemed worthy of attention if they're willing to show the most raw and vulnerable aspects of their existence that AI cannot possibly capture. It leads to discourse around commodifying pain, the right to privacy, and the true meaning of art in late-stage capitalism.
Ling Ling Huang approaches this in a way I wouldn't expect most authors to. Everything in the novel is set from the perspective of Enka, whereas I think the easier choice would have been to frame things from Mathilde's point of view. For the reader, it tests our bounds of empathy and patience, but adds a layer of nuance and themes that otherwise would go unexplored. It would be a stretch to even call Enka morally grey, but her character arc explores important themes that Mathilde alone could not.
My only minor critique of the novel is the world-building. The integration of technology and division of classes is interesting, but seldom explored beyond the introduction. As a reader, I'm greedy - give me all the context and backstory behind a dystopian world!
Immaculate Conception is like the twisted, dark love child between Suture and Sirens & Muses that I'll be thinking about for weeks to come. If you're interested in literary science fiction (Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ classifies this as horror, which I don't think is quite accurate), it's a very timely read. Thank you to the publisher for the e-ARC, and for solidifying Ling Ling Huang as one of my all-time favourite authors....more
I saw some aspects of the ending coming, but I didn't expect it to resonate with me so much (writing this with a tear soaked collar rn). Full review tI saw some aspects of the ending coming, but I didn't expect it to resonate with me so much (writing this with a tear soaked collar rn). Full review to come, but this was incredible....more
A deliberately uncomfortable and provocative reflection on sex, disability, womanhood, and their intersection. I enjoyed this premise and think it doeA deliberately uncomfortable and provocative reflection on sex, disability, womanhood, and their intersection. I enjoyed this premise and think it does a good job of prompting the reader to introspect on why some of these scenes and themes feel uncomfortable. Her own experiences inspire Ichikawa's portrayal of disability and do an excellent job at highlighting the need for dignity, respect, and candor in how disabled individuals are presented in media while also acknowledging the diversity of their needs and experiences.
Talking about the plot in too much detail is difficult given how short this is - but it does a good job at emphasizing the broader theme of exploitation and power imbalance between our protagonist and a specific caretaker. The characters are selfish and morally grey, but executed in a way that reinforces the complexity of how we all experience the world. Power and privilege are not easy things to quantify, and we leave the story unsure of who truly resides in the place of power over the other.
I struggle with rating this higher than 3 stars simply because of the length. The ideas are important and despite the short length, it's a novel that offers lasting thought. I'm in two minds about the ending - it's a good idea, but not executed to its fullest potential. Ambiguity is difficult to pull off in a novella when there isn't a thread tying together potential interpretations! I would have appreciated a bit more foreshadowing or context, but it's a solid read regardless....more
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