Topics of Conversation
Ratings10
Average rating2.7
15
Ratings10
Average rating2.7
Miranda Popkey's first novel is about desire, disgust, motherhood, loneliness, art, pain, feminism, anger, envy, guilt--written in language that sizzles with intelligence and eroticism. The novel is composed almost exclusively of conversations between women--the stories they tell each other, and the stories they tell themselves, about shame and love, infidelity and self-sabotage--and careens through twenty years in the life of an unnamed narrator hungry for experience and bent on upending her life. Edgy, wry, shot through with rage and despair, Topics of Conversation introduces an audacious and immensely gifted new novelist.
Reviews with the most likes.
What I'm saying is that my life, like the lives of most people, lacks an origin story. I mean one with any explanatory power.
almost
⭐️⭐️/5
Very often I browse bookstores online or amazon and read book synopsis trying to find things that interest me to add to my TBR. This book sounded good to me. It's only 200ish pages so I picked it up after finishing my last read to try to squeeze in a few more books in October.
I'm not sure if this was a book that was deeper than my level of understanding or if the writing style wasn't for me. Each chapter was about different conversations that the narrator/MC had with people that impacted her life. I feel like maybe it was a little over my head. To me it had potential: desire, motherhood, self-damaging behavior, but it just fell flat to me. 18+ for themes discussed and language. Check trigger warnings. It wasn't poorly written, I just think the writing style may not be for everyone.
I set a goal of reading more fiction this year. I bought three fiction books and they arrived this week.
I eagerly started Topics of Conversation first. It sounded wonderfully promising, filled with conversations between women.
My expectations were dashed. By the third chapter, I wanted to close the book and set it out in my Little Free Library for another reader. Yes, as advertised, the book is full of conversations between women, but I would say the conversations are actually monologues. And the monologues go on and on, a sentence continuing on for pages, with the only interruption being tiny breaks where the women sip their glasses of wine. The conversations are not only long, but they are about nothing, with no point, and (this is probably the killer thing for me) absolutely no humor.
Grim. Rambling. Pointless.
