this was tough to rate because the stories are lovely but they’re missing something. i wanted more out of them, more life or more character and i wishthis was tough to rate because the stories are lovely but they’re missing something. i wanted more out of them, more life or more character and i wished the writer leaned into the poeticism she clearly has.
i loved reading these stories but found myself forgetting most of them within an hour of finishing one. something just wasn’t there.
favorites - randy travis, mani pedi (my #1 pick), edge of the world, ewwrrrkk, a far distant thing, picking worms....more
as if we needed more proof that arab women are, have been and will always be baddies.
i found some of the poems too abstract for my taste and would’veas if we needed more proof that arab women are, have been and will always be baddies.
i found some of the poems too abstract for my taste and would’ve loved to have the texts in their original language but i really liked this overall! ...more
not sure if it's because i'm getting older or because i'm a jaded person but i've come to terms with the fact that romance books don't do it for me sonot sure if it's because i'm getting older or because i'm a jaded person but i've come to terms with the fact that romance books don't do it for me so a star review wouldn't have been fair.
it's a classic slayzelwood book, though a bit "edgier". nothing wrong with it but not for me personally.
incredibly subtle messaging about how the overconsumption/ rationalization of violent content shifts our moral compass, but the book may have benefittincredibly subtle messaging about how the overconsumption/ rationalization of violent content shifts our moral compass, but the book may have benefitted from delving slightly deeper into that. ...more
there is a part of me that wants to give this a low rating because it has a lot of psychological and Buddhist over-simplifications and general woo-woothere is a part of me that wants to give this a low rating because it has a lot of psychological and Buddhist over-simplifications and general woo-woo, self-help nonsense, and argues that artists have no social responsibility at one point.
but then i remember that despite all this, it deeply spoke to me. so much so that, after i read a few chapters and fell asleep, i had this dream:
i’m in the sequel (which i imagined up) of my favorite Egyptian tv show, and my mother is also there but as an agent. we’re all having dinner and two of the characters wave mom-agent over to talk about writing and then they ask about me. she tells them that i’ve been thinking about it but i’m too scared. they all look at me then and tell me, “you really should do it. it’d be a shame if you didn’t. and when you do, we’ll help you.�
Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern. With *Intermezzo* being my third Rooney novel, i can fully stand by this critique: hOnce is an accident, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern. With *Intermezzo* being my third Rooney novel, i can fully stand by this critique: her female characters are her greatest weakness. Though each one differs slightly in outward temperament, they’re all passive inhabitants of their bodies and lives, subject to the whims of the men and people around them. All brunette and mousy, skinny and not really in the mood to make a fuss about anything. Intermezzo does have her most interesting female character yet (in Naomi) but her depths are cracks when compared to any of Rooney’s male characters and when her fiery disposition simmers, her characterization does not veer from the pattern.
I’ll choose to forgive this shortcoming here though because *Intermezzo* is her best novel yet. She has tight command of the plot and her two main characters� voices. Her stylistic choices to further distinguish the two brothers, run-on sentences to illustrate Ivan’s languid and thoughtful internal dialogue, and clipped phrases / half sentences for Peter’s frantic and borderline manic thoughts, are well done and thought-out. Her writing almost feels Joycian here, words attempting to cup all life this world can offer and doing it authentically. This is also her most Irish and political work yet, with Dublin and its sociopolitical complexities taking the room they deserve given their effect on the lives of the characters. Rooney is not shy with interjecting Marxist class analysis in her work, something I deeply appreciate.
But her greatest achievements are those two main characters of hers�. There is not enough praise in this world to do her excellent handling justice. They stuck with me, grew on me in a way I didn’t expect, especially Peter. Lost as they are in a world that is increasingly ambivalent to us all and dragged into an existence that they didn’t sign up for, with few ways to understand their emotions given their socialization. They are not perfect, unable to reconcile between their desires and what they believe is moral or see past their own pain, and making plenty mistakes because of this. Yet, they are compelling and relatable in their humanity despite their shortcomings and hypocrisies, and through them, we the readers can reflect on the relationships in our lives, including with the men in them. Both past, with the boys that were and present, with the men that are.
So it is no surprise that I fondly thought of my own brothers often while reading this. In particular, I kept remembering a conversation I had with my mom a few months about one of them. My baby brother had given her a hard time about something I fail to recall and she wanted to ask me what his reaction would be if she talked to him about it this way or that way. I gave her advice on what to do / say and she didn’t really take it only for her to call me later and tell me that I was right after all. “I’m his own mother and yet I sometimes think you know him better than me…actually, I think you might know him better than anyone,� her tone was even but the slight edge of it gave her surprise away. And though she couldn’t see me, I smiled into the phone anyways. Yes, Mama, I know....more
I'm not sure how to rate this collection, given that these stories were on the brink of extinction (Moustadraf’s books were, until recently, out of prI'm not sure how to rate this collection, given that these stories were on the brink of extinction (Moustadraf’s books were, until recently, out of print and her name fell into obscurity, with only her fans keeping her legacy alive after her death) and that Moustadraf displays clear passion for the topics she’s delving into with these stories, but something didn’t click for me.
Arab realism is a specific genre/style of writing that unflinchingly depicts the poverty, class struggle, injustice and hypocrisies that are common in Arab societies and it’s clear that is Moustadraf’s style. Because of the inherent heaviness of the issues depicted, it is very difficult to write dimensional characters that are not completely unlikeable and stories that are not completely bleak, and to balance between showing the truth and not entirely defining people by it. Arabic as a language lends some help with its pretty lyricism (if you can write in it well) and a lot of Arab writers also use sardonic humour and sass to cushion the truth and make it easier to swallow.
But this is a translated text and a lot of that softening is stripped just with the nature of the translation. Some of the sarcasm and wit does peek through but you’d have to speak Arabic to infer the original text. Additionally, the stories� protagonists are almost interchangeable and the nuances of their personalities are lost, something I’m not sure is due to the translation or Moustadraf’s writing.
Though I really wish I enjoyed this more, I actually don’t care that I didn’t. This collection is so full of love. Moustadraf loved justice, life and her people, and Guthrie loved what Moustadraf stood for, her work and her. Moustadraf’s life, however brief, shone brightly and she wrote bravely. North African feminists and female writers stand on the shoulders of giants like her who, despite the pain they knew would come down on them, did not stop speaking truthfully and did not turn their faces away. That is more than enough, more than everything, for me.
Favorites: Delusion, Raving, A Woman in Love A Woman Defeated, House Fly, Death...more
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