Grace

“Your whole house smells of dog, says someone who comes to visit. I say l'Il take care of it. Which I do by never inviting that person to visit again.”

Loved this. Whilst always addressed to a dear friend after their passing, we are never quite sure whether the narrator is writing a letter, memoir, or a series of journal entries. With an air of avoidance, loneliness, and musing, Sigrid Nunez paints a graceful picture of grief and loss. The narrator, unnamed, portraits her friend as a man, a writer, a teacher, a lover, and finally as his own Great Dane, Apollo, who tethers her to the earth amidst philosophical enquiry into themes of suicide, writing, and companionship. Elegant in its simplicity.

3.5 stars

Finally!! A novel centred around someone my age that's humour actually hits and, like, is vulnerable and honest and painful? I don't know why I keep reading books about affairs, or how I keep picking them up without noticing, but this one did stand out in its clarity. It hurts but in a good way.

This was faultless and enthralling, touching on what makes us human, the social bonds and hierarchies we construct, the ethics of scientific advancement, art, love, hope, and what it means to live. Ishiguro explores these themes with a wistful and alluring spirit through his expertly crafted characters, namely the intimate and intelligent narration by Kathy and her nuanced relationships with Ruth and Tommy.
It is not altogether clear what the novel is about from the beginning. Structured like something of a memoir, the reader is made to slowly piece together this world through a series of anecdotes provided by Kathy as she reflects on her upbringing within a program for other students of her kind. We sense that something about this world is strange and troubling, and somehow it feels nostalgic and tender, with a candid yet ambiguous tone. It was at once devastating and mesmerising. It was perfect.

“Coral hopes that she is not deliberately enigmatic, but rather that she takes time to show herself.”

An intricate and intimate portrait of unexpected motherhood, we follow Coral as she grapples with OCD and detachment throughout her pregnancy, and then with postpartum psychosis following the birth. Given the themes, there is an expected darkness to the novel, but we also find it enmeshed with a lightness and hope, all held together beautifully by McPhee-Browne's elegant, ethereal prose.

Playful, gossipy, charming. I wrote this on page 7, but it sums this up nicely.

“I wonder if I'll ever be able to have what I like or if my tastes are too various to be sustained by one of anything”

Eve Babitz gives us snapshots of her fun, ever moving, glamorous L.A. life through an intellectual, literary lens. Pieces of it felt a little tooo intensely American for me to completely resonate with, but I suppose that's to be expected. Overall, I had a lovely time.

3.75 stars

Came for the cover, stayed for the writing.

A beautiful portrait of grief, centring around 5 friends over the weekend anniversary of the loss of a child. Multiple POVs are hard to do, and Hannan did it really well here. The characters were all cleverly constructed and all shone relatively equally. I especially loved Annie, Ev, and Tess, Fran, and Ruby.

Maybe I missed something, but I kept feeling as though I was waiting for something to happen that was never quite reached. While stylistically the writing was clear, emotional, and intimate, it did feel simplistic at times and I did not find myself feeling overly moved. I don't know if this is just because I didn't particularly relate or because of the writing, but I just struggled to connect.

Despite my nitpicking, Hannan delivers an engaging, honest, and raw exploration of grief, loss, love, and friendship. Ev's character in particular was both touching and inspiring. Normally reading books set in my hometown makes me feed odd, but for some reason this one felt comforting.

Warm, tender, elusive, and painful.

I loved and felt deeply for the characters tenderly constructed by Hilton. I felt a soft ache for Ben and a fondness for Don and Phillip. Of Evelyn, I was sorely curious. I was confused and hungry to know more about her.

While the novel was gorgeously written, I continually found myself wanting more, and couldn't shake the feeling of something being missing. Although that may just be my own frustration with loose ends, even when they are necessary to the essence of the story.

But all in all, that didn't stop me from sobbing at the end. Overall a beautiful and hopeful story, laced with heartache.

Wow. I picked this up on a whim not expecting to be floored at all, but this was amazing. What an interesting concept and so well executed. This is a really complex read, I admittedly had to look up the meaning of a word at least once per page, and to be honest I did not understand a lot of the references (especially political ones) but I don't think that took away from my ability to appreciate the story. The plot was fast paced and kind of messy, but I found it quite easy to follow still. I don't feel like I'm smart enough to properly review this but I just loved it. So so intriguing

A poignant, vulnerable, candid, brutally honest, and emotional memoir.

Having grown up never watching Nickelodeon or really knowing anything about Jennette, I wasn't all too compelled to read this, but I couldn't help picking it up after hearing so many people rave about it. I couldn't put it down.

This isn't a fun or hilarious read as so many other reviews seem to suggest, but Jennette tells her story with dry and candid humour which is clearly used as a coping mechanism and is a testament to her ability as a writer to divulge intimate, traumatic experiences in a digestible and engaging way without it feeling dramatised. While I felt that a lot of details were glossed over (for instance, the large gaps in time between some of the chapters), they obviously weren't crucial to the narrative and her succinct, organised writing style makes the book fast-paced and captivating. Jennette's ability to recount the most traumatic details of her life with wit and clarity in a matter-of-fact and deeply self-aware voice should be admired.

It would have been nice to see a bit more insight and reflection, particularly toward the end of the book. At times it felt like a retelling of events that happened with little detail into how these things shaped Jennette, how she feels about them now, and what she has learned from them. That being said, the style in which the book was written didn't really allow for much reflection and it wasn't the purpose of this story. Overall a really gripping and fast-paced memoir.

“I wanted to walk in the woods and among the trees. I wanted not to speak to anyone, only to see and hear, to feel lonely.”

Lovely. Soft, calm, and reflective. The story follows a young woman travelling to Japan with her mother, as she floats in and out of memories and loses herself deep in thought. It flows so seamlessly and felt exactly like I was drifting in and out of the narrator's mind with her. This would be a perfect book to read on a holiday, a long train ride, or a soft and rainy day.

I resonated with the narrator's desire to engage in deeper conversation but not being able to articulate exactly what it is you want to ask of people. Much of the story is centered around her feelings, which she sometimes struggles to grasp and define, yet I felt as though I understood her sentiments perfectly. What it feels like to be on the brink of an intense feeling or thought that you cannot articulate and passes by in seconds. But she embraces this loneliness she feels among her own thoughts, and emphasises the joy to be found in the simple pleasures of life - being with people you love, listening to a storm in the warmth of your own bed, being in nature.

I admired the way in which the author encapsulated feeling inadequate and out of place. She describes her view of other people as seemingly complete in a way that she isn't, feeling as if there is some bigger understanding or way of being that she is missing but that other people have. However, the narrative goes on with an underlying calmness, wherein the narrator reflects upon her desire to simply experience and observe and “let life happen to [her]”, accepting what she cannot control rather than lamenting about it. That you cannot compare one life to another, and that it is okay to not be sure of what you want.

It was comforting, touching, and meditative. 4 stars because I feel as though it could have been longer and spent more time exploring the relationship between the narrator and her mother - but I feel that perhaps the point is all that was left unsaid between them.

Brilliant, rich, gentle, heart aching, intelligent, swift.

Ruth and Pen follows two women separately through a single day in Dublin. Ruth is grappling with the potential end of her marriage following a long and difficult road of failed IVF attempts; Pen is a young neurodivergent girl determined to have the perfect day with her maybe more-than-friend Alice. The multiple POV style is executed perfectly here, where each chapter is short enough to let both characters equally shine.

I found this difficult to get into through the first half. Emilie Pine writes almost breathlessly, like I can picture her sitting at her desk in the candlelight just going manic on her keyboard. And I found it worked for me in the second half because all of this suspension had been built up, but diving straight into her quick paced, thought-like narrative from the beginning was hard. But she definitely makes up for it.

Pine explores themes of love, neurodivergence, loss, climate change, sexuality, fertility, the female body, the works. And she does it well. And it's Irish. Basically, I'm searching for anything even remotely resembling Sally Rooney.

‘I was always looking ahead to a time when I would miss this.'

Bodies of Light is a magnificently constructed exploration of trauma, survival, vulnerability, and identity. Down poses the questions of what it means to exist and what it looks like to exist in a world that continually subdues your personhood, and she does so with a voice that is clear and powerful.

I don't agree with a large consensus of reviewers who've described this novel as trauma-porn. All of the detail seemed necessary to Maggie's storyline to me. Without it, we would not have been able to feel in the same way her grief, shame, resilience, fierce spirit and aching heart.

I felt a dip towards the last quarter of an otherwise throughly vivid and mesmerising read. I also understood why Tony's storyline was included, however I feel the point it was trying to make wasn't as strong as it could've been.

Since Normal People, I've become increasingly fond of writers who don't use quotation marks. It feels more natural in a way. I am not fond, however, of TV being spelt as teevee - took me right out of the story every time.

This is nitpicking though, really. 4.5 stars - a brilliance!!!

Yumiko has such an important and interesting story. As someone not involved in the medical field, it gave me a much more profound respect for doctors and surgeons and it made me realise just how extensive and harsh the roads to get there are. I felt shocked and angered knowing that the sexism and racism within the medical system is so widespread and deeply engrained that those experiencing it rarely speak up. I am in awe of Yumiko for the strength and bravery it would have taken to step away and to share her story. It was lovely to see the direct impacts of this at the end of the book.

At no point in the story did I know where it was going, and I found the writing rather clinical and simplistic. I was also coming out of a major reading slump when I began reading this so it took me quite a while to get through, but I still felt engaged whenever I did pick it up. This isn't the kind of book I see myself reading again, but I would highly recommend it for anybody hoping to go into the medical field. It covers Yumiko's personal story going from medical school through to becoming a surgical registrar, as she experiences sexism, racism, overworking, burnout, and mental illness.

3.5 stars

This was such a beautiful, refreshing, intriguing, and thought-provoking read. I loved the way that it was structured, with an equal focus on both Alice and Eileen. I didn't feel that one character outshone the other, or that either of them dominated the narrative. Having each chapter separated by emails between the two characters also created an intriguing dynamic which I would argue is vital to the storyline.

While the chapters following Alice and Eileen separately delve into family, relationships, love, and sex, the emails explore a wide range of social, political, and philosophical topics. These emails almost feel like conversations between Sally Rooney and herself, and she gives refreshing and insightful perspectives on the meanings and questions surrounding religion, beauty, love, modern society, classism, sexuality, the dissonance of reflecting back on our past selves, and having children in a seemingly doomed society.

I was intrigued by both of the relationships, between Alice and Felix, and Eileen and Simon. The characters were not always likeable, but that is what made them feel real. I found that I related a lot to Alice and Eileen's desires and behavioural tendencies - many of which I think Sally Rooney intended to pose as universal experiences to women. In particular, Alice's defensiveness and need to prove her superiority, as well as Eileen's desire to be reassured and fought for. Eileen's desire to be dominated by Simon was also a topic I found especially interesting. She experiences an almost guilty pleasure of feeling weak and tender and needing to be protected and cared for by Simon - which I believe has a mildly sexist undercurrent - yet it is something that is experienced by so many women. I wish Sally Rooney had explored this idea more.

I was surprised and impressed by the insight Felix and Simon show into Alice and Eileen's behaviours. At times I caught myself feeling angry and defensive when Alice and Eileen were challenged by them, and then I realised that it was because I have acted in many of the same ways myself and for the first time I was discovering why. It is intimidating how insightful and intelligent Sally Rooney is.

Love, sex, and friendship are the core themes of the book. Contrasting Normal People, Sally Rooney showed that relationships can heal and recover from seemingly irreparable damage, and she does so in a way that is somehow simultaneously comforting and uncomfortable. It is challenging yet reassuring.

I cannot recommend this enough. Please don't be put off Sally Rooney and miss out on reading such a masterpiece for something as trivial as quotation marks. This was such a pleasure to read and a book that I know I will revisit time and time again in order to completely digest all of its brilliance.

What a delicious read!!! It was evocative and lusty and achey and suspenseful all in one. Cowley magnificently crafts characters that feel real and complex and the dynamics between them are palpable on the page. I became Elle. I could not put this down.

The story weaves between the past and present in a way that feels satisfying and whole. Heavier themes are explored right alongside lighter ones, all expertly balanced.

I want a cabin by the pond :(

Incredible, unsettling, disturbing, wild, raw, empowering, and unpredictable. No doubt one of the most unique novels of its time.

Nightbitch is an original take on modern motherhood, exploring the expectations society has for mothers, which they themselves so often fall into and let themselves become defined by. The expectations that mothers give up their careers to care for their children, while fathers can advance in theirs. The dehumanisation and loss of self that inevitably comes with committing years of your life to care for another's. The disregard for motherhood as a real job, because it requires rather than produces money. The mother's desire for a community, to be seen as a person outside of her role as a mother, for another soul to understand her unexplainable feelings and desires.

This was a weird, but wildly interesting and thought provoking read. I know that I want to re read it in a few months and properly annotate it, to gain a deeper appreciation of its brilliance. But for now, 4.5 stars. I devoured it and I loved every second of it.

I don't like to rate memoirs but this one was so exquisitely and tenderly written that it would feel wrong not to give it 5 stars.

Michelle writes of her experience as a Korean American growing up in a small rural area in Oregon, and of losing her mother to an aggressive pancreatic cancer. She intimately describes how her sometimes turbulent relationship with her mother was deeply intertwined with her culture and it's cuisine, and how after her mother's passing she reconstructs and rediscovers memories of her through Korean food.

I read most of this while listening to the album Michelle wrote (as Japanese Breakfast) while caring for her mother and shortly after her passing, Psychopomp. It was an enchanting experience and I wish that all books could be accompanied by such a beautiful soundtrack.

Her writing navigates the mother daughter relationship with intimate and heart wrenching nuance. The love between Michelle and her mother is palpable, and all that is unsaid between them excruciatingly honest.

Michelle also grapples with her identity and explores the feelings of alienation and inadequacy she experiences within both of her cultures with agonising vulnerability. For most of her life Michelle's mother is what tethered her to her Korean heritage, and this loss therefore left her feeling unentitled to this part of herself.

This powerfully evocative memoir radiates with love, grief, vulnerability, and connection. It left me feeling tender and intensely moved. Call your mum and tell her you love her, and read this book.