one of those books whose concepts/ideas far outweighed its execution, which i find is often the case with surrealism run astray. i loved the idea of lone of those books whose concepts/ideas far outweighed its execution, which i find is often the case with surrealism run astray. i loved the idea of la ropa usada, for example, and the set-up of that story, but the way it all came together left a lot to be desired. definitely a weird, enigmatic collection, and worth picking up if that's your thing. ...more
picked this up from an independent bookstore because the cover was so gorgeous, and while charming in many ways (most prominently aesthetic), somethinpicked this up from an independent bookstore because the cover was so gorgeous, and while charming in many ways (most prominently aesthetic), something about magical realism and extreme minimalism does not work for me. the best magical realist fiction (or fantasy-inflected fiction, if that’s the classification you prefer) is buoyed by detail and overwriting; the limits (or lack thereof) of reality are believable because the writing is lush and wandering. this was entirely too plain for me and so its magical elements became random and outrageous very quickly. 3.2/5. ...more
specifically, 240 pages of explanation. yes, there is a lot of that here. too much for me, i think. not
allow us a moment to explain a few things.
specifically, 240 pages of explanation. yes, there is a lot of that here. too much for me, i think. not nearly enough character interaction or genuine scene-writing.
i was so immediately and viscerally enthralled with akwaeke emezi's prose that almost nothing could convince me this book wouldn't be an immediate five stars upon completion. but this feeling really only lasted me the first 10% of this novel. the momentum of such a beautiful beginning, with expansive exposition and incisively sinister ambience, faded very fast. if you're a die-hard emezi fan, maybe don't continue reading past this point, because i have a lot to unpack in the way of what didn't work in freshwater for me, personally.
i couldn't (and still can't) find a satisfactory way (or angle) from which to read this book. initially, i assumed i was in for something dark and literary, but my hopes were quickly dashed when ada grew older and her character's sole conflict began to revolve around bad sex with worse men (whose presence on the page was so thin as to wisp immediately and unforgivingly away). you can't read freshwater for the fatty plot, because there isn't much to chew on; large questions raised by the worldbuilding are left curiously unaddressed, so that the narrative is being alternately carried forward by either large swaths of ambiguity (why does this work the way that it does? what are the god's true motives? capabilities? what does their home look like? what is their ultimate purpose? their limits? etc.) or time-lapse narration so poor it undercuts any kind of emotional punch certain reveals might have otherwise carried.
you can't read freshwater as a character study, either, because none of the people that populate this book—not even the central gods occupying ada's body—have enough dimension to feel even slightly believable. from chapter four onward, emezi seems to lose their grip on the world they've constructed and what rushes in to fill the void is confusing, chaotic, and ultimately (and deeply) unsatisfying.
early on i was able to identify why i had such a negative reaction to the turn the narrative had taken, though i understand i should tread lightly (or just sensitively) when offering criticism of certain plot choices because it seems that on some level this book is inspired by real life events in the author’s life?
what it boils down to for me is this: men. everything in this world seems to revolve around them. sex with them. falling in love with them. their drugs. their cheating. their violence. their sexual abuse. their tenderness. their touches. their greed. their angst. non-men and their desires, their motivations, their angst, seem to pale in comparison, disregarded or so deeply ensnared in the former that there's no sense of relief or separation from which to build identities (or any identity at all).
so this is the part in the review where i write a little disclaimer for anyone reading: this is largely a matter of personal taste, and i acknowledge that it's not emezi's fault that i personally don't like reading about the many and varied ways that cis men wreak violence through sex, because that trauma is real and terrifying and it can be hard to understand the external/internal forces that sidle us with these unhealthy relationships seemingly on repeat. books/authors don't necessarily owe us anything, particularly where a reader's personal preferences are concerned. thus, a lot of my criticism is likely unfair.
but oh my fucking god, i am so sick of being let down by narratives that DO NOT CENTRALLY FOLLOW MEN because EVEN STILL THE NARRATIVE CAN'T HELP BUT PAN OVER TO THE SHITTY DUDES SITTING ON THE SIDELINES.
like, yes! novels often need conflict to sustain them! but i'm sick of reading about women and their toxic dysfunctional codependent relationships with cishet men (particularly when there is no relief from this narrative fixture). tired of it! bored! it's been done to death! we've seen enough! we don't need to see anymore!
I'M LITERALLY SO SAD ABOUT THISOGFOISDJGLSKDFGLSJFDG LIKE I PICKED UP EMEZI FOR THE DARK MAGIC OF IT ALL. IDEALLY FOR COMPLEX, INTRICATE DYNAMICS THAT TRANSCEND THE M/F FORMAT. NOT FOR A SALLY ROONEY TOUR DE FORCE WHERE I HAVE TO WATCH THE MAIN CHARACTER BE SAD THAT MEN ONLY SEE HER AS A BODY FOR 200 PAGES. I CANNOT BELIEVE EMEZI SERVED UP SUCH A PROMISING, FRESH CONCEPT (warring, capricious gods sharing a body with a human) ONLY FOR THOSE GODS TO GO i actually only exist for men to hit me during sex that is what i hunger for ...more
this reading experience evoked the same disquiet i felt the first time i watched the “rock bottom� episode of spongebob and……it was kind of everythingthis reading experience evoked the same disquiet i felt the first time i watched the “rock bottom� episode of spongebob and……it was kind of everything.
gonna have to reread this 50 times before i can say anything more substantial than: wow....more
so far from god scratches all of my magical realist itches, particularly the strain of magical realism that is unique to xicana writers: matriarchs, mso far from god scratches all of my magical realist itches, particularly the strain of magical realism that is unique to xicana writers: matriarchs, medicine/brujerÃa, food as a love language, and the sort of southwestern tongue born of borderland living. and yet, it fell short of my expectations in a lot of ways. i think this is one of those instances where the expository storytelling technique didn't work for me and actually blunted the impact of all the emotional writing and character development i hoped for. i wanted more out of the story, i was left unsatisfied by the wlw subplot, and i wish the writing hadn't dragged in so many places. in spite of that, this text holds a lot of personal and academic value to me in all that it taught me about the literary movement, so i'm giving it a solid three stars for what i've been able to take from it. ...more
i've come to understand magical realism—especially contemporary magical realism—as a vehicle for matriarchal power, queer desire, anticolonialism, andi've come to understand magical realism—especially contemporary magical realism—as a vehicle for matriarchal power, queer desire, anticolonialism, and so on and so forth. so i think i probably carry those expectations with me now, whenever i have new encounters with the genre/literary movement. that can throw a wrench in the reading experience and was very much the case in this instance. i couldn't curb my enthusiasm when i found this collection and was viciously let down as a result.
recalling even one story i enjoyed from short stories by latin american women: the magic and the real is a struggle. it doesn't help that the work enclosed within skews towards the real, more often than not. there is very little magic to be found here. i was also continuously shocked by how often this collection centered men, and their desire, and their use of women.
when you come together to tackle a project of this caliber, you have to begin to ask yourself, after a point, whether the commentary provided by work that centers men is more important than what could have been achieved with stories by and for women. in that regard—and others—this is something of a dated collection. it doesn't read well today, particularly in its treatment of indigeneity. this was agonizing to get through and the most powerful emotion it got out of me was the relief i felt when i finally finished it. ...more
why are so many literary writers like you know what this novel's missing? a little bit of incest, for flair.
eva luna suffers the unfortunate fate of why are so many literary writers like you know what this novel's missing? a little bit of incest, for flair.
eva luna suffers the unfortunate fate of starting stronger than it ends. by the 60% mark, its magical momentum has petered out and the narrative begins to drag. like a self-fulfilling prophecy, its romance falls into the conventional, easy to anticipate formulas eva becomes used to reading in books, hearing on the radio, and watching on telenovelas. eva, a main character who was once so rebellious, wide-eyed, and full of wonder becomes a dull damsel whose life revolves around the many men who throw themselves at her feet. the progression of a plot filled with revolution, magic, and found family is hard to reconcile with the hurried romantic ending of the novel, or the way this romantic ending seemingly suspends eva's character development for the latter half of eva luna, so that she exists in a kind of permanent stasis.
i will say, this is magical realism through and through. its narrative landscape is bursting with detail, at times nonlinear, not relegated to one single geographic location or character's head. the style, as with many magical realist texts, is expository for much of the novel, something many reviewers appear to take issue with. this critique—that allende tends to tell more often than she shows—fails to acknowledge that magical realism was a literary movement in many ways born out of a tradition of oral storytelling and of observations of cultures caught in the throes of colonial rule.
the "show, don't tell" rule of thumb is to many a western invention that punishes nonwhite modes of storytelling for their ability to ground a story not in images, but in ideas. a number of these writing rules (long-held beliefs about telling a story "the right way") were popularized through the creation of the master of fine arts (MFA) + writing workshops in twentieth century america, which sought to stamp out leftist creative inclinations, effectively replacing manifestos, for example, with literary fiction. the CIA (yes, the CIA) peddled workshops like these to begin to build a western canon that would kill what they called "communist propaganda." this is something to keep in mind when you read a work, especially one from a culturally specific literary movement, and find yourself battling an urge to cry, "show, don't tell!"
eva luna's expository style is actually its strong suit. it's a dense read, yes, but its power lies in its ability to mimic oral storytelling traditions, to move through time and space at eva's whim, to span an entire lifetime and in so doing, trace a lineage of lives and deaths through the pangs of colonialism, magic, and desire. every time i pick up a magical realist text, i'm left reeling, delighted by density and detail, and this was no exception, in spite of the major issues i took with the plot mechanics. and, i should mention, the very dated writing, in terms of transmisogyny, orientalism, and questionable treatment of black characters....more
that was the way she entered pedro’s body, hot, voluptuous, perfumed, totally sensuous. with that meal it seemed they had discovered a new system o
that was the way she entered pedro’s body, hot, voluptuous, perfumed, totally sensuous. with that meal it seemed they had discovered a new system of communication, in which tita was the transmitter, pedro the receiver...
believe it or not, men get pegged.............more
prosaic. poetic. epistolary. bestiary is a feat in genre b(l)ending that employs every one of the senses—and then some. it is gorgeously grotesque andprosaic. poetic. epistolary. bestiary is a feat in genre b(l)ending that employs every one of the senses—and then some. it is gorgeously grotesque and deeply experimental. you are not likely to encounter another narrative voice this inventive, this frenzied, with such a strong command—and disregard—for the english language. k-ming chang is a force to be reckoned with and a poet who never pulls her punches. in fact, bestiary might be best described as a pummeling—wild, brash, rendered in brutal, bruise-like color.
her debut novel interrogates not just generational trauma, but also generational myth: the mediums it inhabits (oral, written, the natural world as it is infringed upon by human inventions like war) and the ways it is both muddied and thrown into sharp relief by migration, by desire, by destruction. in many ways, bestiary is a novel of transition and of succession, as mothers and daughters flit between birth and death, as they trace their lineage and try to make sense of their own bodies, of the anguish they've inherited from each other. they are wrenched apart, then thrown together again. they are forced to reconcile violence with love and love with violence. in a world ruled by men, these women are crowned most beautiful, most beastly, most brazen.
but before all of that, they are human.
after? fantastically animal.
k-ming understands better than most that the pain passed down through family can be just as disturbing as it is liberating, that to grow up we must grow into and out of our ancestors' worst memories. more than that, though, we must make space for our own. here, fabulism feeds into stories of gay love, of triumph and tragedy, of blooming desire. bestiary is a remastering of reality wherein humans and nature are never not in conversation with one another. they are coupled like queer lovers. moreover, this gay love is never made to feel unwelcome, or isolated. instead, it is the norm, and its opposite ill-fitting.
if you're looking for a strange, startling novel that subverts the anglo-american literary tradition, that is as crude as it is stunning, and that threads story/memory/myth together like the braids of an unbreakable bridge, this is a must-read and a new favorite.
hats off to k-ming, whose language lives at the edge of enigmatic, and who manages to be both tender and cruel, restrained and unruly, absurd and exceptionally, painstakingly wise....more
unspeakably weird, whimsical, and at times impossible to categorize through content alone, given that the content of the mooncake vixen is as expansivunspeakably weird, whimsical, and at times impossible to categorize through content alone, given that the content of the mooncake vixen is as expansive as it is hard to follow. i’m still not entirely sure how i feel about this collection of shorts set within the same world, but it was definitely an experience....more
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