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Rabeetah Hasnain

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book reviews

When reviewing books I like to consider the ideal reader. When and where is one most likely to enjoy this book. I try to make my reviews focus on how I felt during and after reading and reflect on lingering thoughts and words. What is the taste in my mouth at the end of the last page?

reads_by_rabeets

Books aren’t sad, you’re sad

No spoiler book reviews!
⚜️New Orleans l @rabeetah19

Dilara lives in Italy, where she cares for her fat Dilara lives in Italy, where she cares for her father who is suffering from dementia and her anxious husband, unable to find work since leaving her native Istanbul. Hoping for a distraction, she becomes fixated on renovating the second bathroom in her house. But when the renovation is complete, she discovers that her new bathroom is actually a Turkish prison cell. 

No time is wasted in the beginning of this book. From the first line the prison cell is introduced and we move fast into the plot and back story. As the novel progresses, the premise begins to feel repetitive, and what seemed exciting becomes a little one-note and heavy-handed. There’s some history woven in. The premise, writing, plot, and characters were all fine. In fact, I can’t think of a recent book about which I’ve felt so little in either direction. I suspect that doesn’t make it seem like a very exciting book to pick up but rather, I kind of enjoyed it for that reason. There’s a certain calmness in the text that is not heightened by the circumstances which I appreciated. I thought the prison cell was a clever way to capture the disorientation of abrupt displacement. I liked how we worked with memory with the narrator’s father battling memory loss. It’s a compelling premise and an inventive approach to familiar questions, but I wanted more from it. I was excited to read this one, given its recognition as a finalist for both the National Book Award and the Booker Prize, but I came away feeling lukewarm. I wonder if I succumbed to the pressures of accolades that I often warn about myself - expecting something much greater given its recent attention. This book was fine and sure, I have room in my days for fine books.

✨“My father told me they were on guard for the future. He said this was the creation of a country – no! this was a country; a country is a constant struggle.”
The narrator of this novella is a journalist in Ne The narrator of this novella is a journalist in New York, and the book moves through her life in a series of anecdotes, observations, overheard conversations, and memories. We follow her on work assignments and deli runs and family trips, through friendships and the beginnings and endings of relationships. She notices things: strangers, coworkers, lovers, headlines, the things people say without realizing anyone is paying attention. Written in present tense, the book has the loose, associative feeling of memory, even as the narrator is moving through things in real time. An observation from one page might resurface much later, a bit changed by what has happened in between. The book becomes interested in what we notice and what we remember and what we make meaningful. I imagined there being a big, round central conflict in the middle of this book and each observation or rumination as an arrow attacking at different parts of that blob. That in these attacks we start to uncover the core.

This is one of the best books I’ve read in a very long time. I’ve been on a kick of reading about people watching other people and this felt like the perfect book to feed that obsession. Every line feels crafted. It’s clever, funny, emotional, serious, honest. There are so many incredible moments that my book is littered with exclamation points and dog ears. Lines that I want to carry with me. It’s for sure a book where nothing happens, but I’ve never felt so close to understanding a human life. It made me think of how thoughts accumulate. It made me remember how lonely it can be to be an observer. There’s no real plot to speak of, and I mean that as a high compliment: the tensions come and go in small doses to resemble the everydayness of our lives. I don’t want anything about this book to be different. I want to shove it into the bodies of everyone I’ve ever known and also keep it to myself forever.

✨The next man I meet somehow has five degrees.
“What was it like, being in school all those years?”
“Like learning all the dimensions of the river without swimming.”
It’s summer, and Mina, Eleanor, and Margaret are 1 It’s summer, and Mina, Eleanor, and Margaret are 15 year old girls in Ohio soaking up the particular nothingness that summer allows at that age. Mina is our narrator- anxious and more of a follower. Margaret is bold and adventurous. Eleanor is calm and sure of herself. The girls have gathered to hear every detail of Margaret’s account with a boy, marking a first for this trio. The idea of teenage girlhood has become a cultural obsession as we watch her take pictures, watch her watch herself, watch her watch others. A summer with nothing to do, at this age, can easily be a summer where everything happens and I think that’s true for our main characters as the story is told from an adult Mina remembering these years. 

Sure, this book is atmospheric and sweet. There are some things I liked about it: its interest in the minor encounters that can feel foundational at 15, especially when Mina observes her friends’ mothers. I liked how specific and distinct each mother-daughter relationship felt. I like reading about characters watching other people, and I liked being inside Mina’s observations as she tries to understand the people around her. Beyond those moments, though, I found this book too dependent on nostalgia and atmosphere to carry what is, intentionally, a low-conflict story, and eventually the nothingness caught up with the plot. The novel started to feel like one long anecdote, and like a watered-down version of its more successful counterparts. I was underwhelmed and eventually bored. The book’s sprinkling of emotional observance made me think it was building toward something more, but I kept waiting for that turn even after I reached the last page. Despite the marketing, I think it’s intended for a younger crowd. Maybe this book is capitalizing on the current contemporary fascination with “girlhood” - and, fine, I have no problem with that. But maybe I am not so interested in this buzz. 

✨“There are only a few times in life when we think we are going to live forever. And I think one of them is when we are with our friends, laughing, eating, looking each other in the eye.”
David Hastings is a retired executive in his 70s s David Hastings is a retired executive in his 70s suffering from Alzheimer’s and so he is on his way to Zurich where he plans to use assisted-death services. With this assistant Cody, he hopes to make two pit stops in Europe: one to visit his daughter and one to visit his old friend Tom. David’s memories bleed into the present, moving between places, conversations, and moments from his life with less and less connective tissue. Though the condition remains unnamed, we feel what David is experiencing. We inhabit it through his stream-of-consciousness narration: a mind trying to make sense of itself as it is forgetting. 

For a book so interested in the gaps in memory, I found myself reading with fervor, watching each thought and detail for what it might reveal. Though told in third person, somehow you are still placed directly inside David’s mind. The prose meanders from past to present and back again, sometimes mid-thought, creating a rhythm that remains followable even as David’s sense of time and reality become unstable. I found David to be a reliable narrator as he admits his memory can’t be trusted. There is a paranoia that follows him making it harder to distinguish what is happening and what he believes is happening. The result of this is an intimate and devastating feeling. On a craft level, it is written in spurts and fragments that align with the content. This book is the only case for a lack of quotation marks that I will humor- here, it blurs the line between what David thinks and what he says- here, it actually deepens the reading experience. This book is very well done, simply to imagine a forgetting like this. 

✨“He was sometimes a figure standing on the shore, watching himself float away, and sometimes he was on the ice floe, losing sight of land.”
Mallory, a former bestselling author, has lost all Mallory, a former bestselling author, has lost all inspiration to write and now lives in the shadow of her much more accomplished husband. Desperate to find her way back to writing, she decides to try her hand at the kind of story that seems to be everywhere right now: an edgy, gay protagonist. Using photos of her husband and an app designed to connect gay men, she creates a fake account and meets Leo, a man struggling with addiction and mental illness. Soon, Leo’s life becomes Mallory’s story. The book moves between Mallory and Leo’s perspectives.

I think books like this are culturally interesting because they expose how observation can be pervasive, especially in writing. We’ve always been interested in who gets to write what stories about what kinds of people, and who gets to share their observations which are, undoubtedly clouded with their own perceptions. I don’t have an answer to any of this, but I do notice this trend, especially after the last book I reviewed, of writers telling other people’s stories. The ethics here are also pretty straightforward: like for sure don’t do what this character is doing. There isn’t much gray area. For that reason, I found the book enthralling and suspenseful and easy to read, but not all that meaningful to me. I sensed that some of the thriller elements were meant to be satirical, but I’m not sure the book entirely carries the burden of that well. The ending was unpredictable, which I appreciated, though I think we could have gotten there quicker. The meandering around the 75% mark bored me, and I think the book could have been condensed. Still, I’m glad I read it. It got me thinking about what I believe about these questions and about the moves writers make when telling stories while also commenting on the social practices surrounding storytelling. The writing was fine, the characters were unlikeable in an addictive way, and the book held a mirror up to our faces. Sure!

✨“Virginia Woolf would have loved Grindr.”
A writer is fascinated by M, a world-famous film s A writer is fascinated by M, a world-famous film star whose face has been public since her childhood. Through a series of connected scenes, the writer observes M’s life and tells of her fame and the world she inhabits which is at all times accommodating her. Among these observations are also the narrator’s own reflections on memory and identity and observation. The book is clearly inspired by Natalie Portman, and its proximity to the real actress is part of the novel’s central tension for me: how closely can a writer observe a person before it is intrusive? What are we entitled to turn into fiction? What motivates a writer to want to get this close to another person in the first place?

While reading, I was distracted by the question of why this book needed to exist and why it needed to be this blunt. I’m not particularly interested in its celebrity factor though I am interested by the act of observing other people, and I wish this book had settled more into those introspections. There are moments when she leans into the inquisitive, outward-looking voice that I’ve often found frustrating in her work, but they work here. And I’m wondering if they work only because of their contrast to this odd type of literary gossip. I am ashamed to say how engrossed I was by the Black Swan section, which illuminates my own appetite for information and, in turn, the appetite the book relies on. That inner tension/conflict was complicated but ultimately, annoying. If you’re going to push the limits of intrusion in fiction, I think you have to push the writing somewhere extraordinary, too. There are good observations here but overall the book felt too invested in the promise of access to a unique mind. I finished it with a bad taste in my mouth and a feeling that I had been promised insight and given proximity instead. 

✨“At the airport M whisks past the great snaking lines of humans burdened by their possessions and wailing children. There are certain places where her separation from others is undeniably apparent. Generally, these are places in which people are treated as an undifferentiated mass in which they must wait, in which they are powerless.”
Ostensibly, this is a book about architecture- an Ostensibly, this is a book about architecture- an attempt to explain what makes a building (or any physical space) feel alive. This elusive quality is referred to as the “quality without a name.” Because our author believes the quality is too complex to be defined outright, the book circles it by identifying smaller qualities that contribute to it. The book is structured as a series of headlines followed by short sections of explanation. Alexander argues that contemporary architecture has become disconnected, and advocates for an interconnected approach with attention to balance, nature, and human experience.

Part of the reason I kept reading this book was that it could be about almost anything. There’s a lot of knowledge here but you have to dig for it. His argument often spirals and meanders: I would read several pages in agreement to realize that either the point was so obvious I hadn’t thought to question it, or so abstract that I had surrendered. There is one section about why our eyes are drawn to certain designs in rugs that has stuck with me, which is a good example of what I liked most about the book: there is captivating, data-backed thinking about why we are attracted to certain places, patterns, and design features. The book has an almost cultish quality to it in the way it ushers you into this worldview. But I get it- I too am chasing the vocabulary for whatever makes certain people, places, and experiences magnetic. I too want to understand why we gather, how we gather, and how physical spaces can encourage that gathering. So maybe I was susceptible to the indoctrination. I think there is something wonderful about a 552-page architecture book that says, look around: you already know what makes a place feel good.

✨“It is so ordinary, that it is hard to explain what is so deep about it. Animal almost, nothing superfluous, each thing that is done, done totally. To live like that, it is the easiest thing in the world; but for a man whose head is full of images, it is the hardest.”
Nine stories/chapters all focused on one event: a Nine stories/chapters all focused on one event: a small town in Massachusetts when everyone receives the same terrifying alert: “BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.” The first story follows a man who sleeps through the alert. His wife wakes him, and together with their newborn, they decide to rush to his parents’ house nearby. But as he sits in the car waiting for his wife and baby, panic takes over. He drives off without them, crashing through the garage door just moments before a second alert arrives: FALSE ALARM. PLEASE DISREGARD. ALL CLEAR. From there, the story unravels. The following 8 stories pivot to show how that same message changes the lives of other people throughout the small town.

I think my favorite story was the first one but I also liked thinking of each of these stories/chapters as like a single window of a bigger building. They worked in conversation with one another. Characters and places reappear often and for me that helped reinforce the smallness and intimacy of the aftermath of this event. A few stories started to feel a little too similar, and there was a lull about halfway through, but I was still excited to finish. I couldn’t stop imagining all the other scenarios and all the ways that message could have impacted someone’s life. Even though I knew what each story was eventually working toward, I was giddy every time the alert appeared. Each story featured an Asian character, another element of thematic unity I enjoyed, though their identity was rarely the point of the story. This book confirmed what I already knew: I love a linked story collection, and as far as the linkage goes, this one felt clever. I loved reading what people would do when they thought their world was ending.

✨“If only the world presented real checkpoints. If only there were genuine chances to re-create your life at a certain moment, to reconstruct how it was before the big thing that changed everything had occurred.”
The book opens with an unnamed 45 year old narrato The book opens with an unnamed 45 year old narrator returning to his college town of Providence to interview Thomas, his former professor and mentor. Thomas is a beloved, celebrated academic who is dying, and this interview, scheduled to take place at Thomas’s home, will be his last. Minutes before the narrator is supposed to leave, he drops his phone into the sink and breaks it and now he has no way to record the conversation. There are, technically, solutions: he could buy a new phone, find another recording device, call someone for help. But in the particular logic of this moment, none of them work. He doesn’t have access to his contacts, stores are closing, and Thomas is waiting. So he comes up with another solution, one whose consequences unreel across the rest of the book. Divided into 3 sections, each essentially a long scene: the opening encounter in Providence, a later consequence in Spain, and, finally, a conversation between the narrator and Thomas’s son.

I was enthralled by each section. My favorite thing about the book is the construction of each scene. My least favorite thing about the book is the construction of the book with those scenes. I can see the unifying threads and the thematic parallels between the 3 sections. There is a clever symmetry and the programmatic parallels are satisfying at the moment, but I’m not sure they take us anywhere bigger. On their own, the sections read more like anecdotes: interesting, relatable, and exciting anecdotes, but still just moments. Thrust next to one another, they make a haphazard attempt at a novel-in-stories. Reading it felt like meeting up with a friend who always has something going on- you remember these old parts of their life, so the story they’re telling you now becomes more exciting because of all that context. I love when a book makes me feel in new and diverse ways like this. Which is why I’m stuck on whether I like this book or not. I enjoyed reading it. I admired it often. But as a whole, I found the scenes were stronger than the story they were supposed to build.

✨“Unconscious inference, our brain guessing, making us hear what it thinks is likely there. We hear as if.”
We start with a diary entry written by Jonathan Ha We start with a diary entry written by Jonathan Harker, who is on his way to Transylvania to meet Count Dracula, a nobleman who has hired him to help with the legal paperwork regarding the purchase of an English property. Harker writes in detail of his first time in Eastern Europe  and of the interactions with the locals, who react with fear when he tells them his destination. They cross themselves and give him protective charms without explanation. After a long and strange journey through the countryside, Harker arrives at Dracula’s castle and the Count himself appears. He is a tall, pale man with a mustache, cold hands, and a firm grip. The two men talk, and Harker begins noticing oddities about his host. At first, Harker tries to rationalize it all as eccentricities of a foreigner. But as the days pass, it becomes harder to justify.  

I find it interesting to read books that have become so popular through their many iterations in media/culture, because there is often so much I don’t know about the original text. For one, I had no idea that Dracula is an epistolary novel, constructed from diary entries, letters, newspaper clippings, telegrams, etc. That structure ended up being one of my favorite things about the book because it constantly shifts our point of view and makes the story feel pieced together from evidence, which is also how I felt reading the book and piecing together all the different versions of it I’ve encountered in popular culture. This book certainly serves as a great microcosm of the social anxieties of its time. Dracula is drenched in the fear of the unknown and fear of social transgression that characterized the period. Reading this book as an exploration of hidden desire and repression felt obvious to me once I started looking for it. What sticks with me is the sense that the “monster” embodies all of the things Victorian society was trying to keep contained. It’s a long book but one that embraces its horror genre and feels richer when read in the context of the culture that produced it. It really is a masterpiece. 

✨“I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to
After a twelve page introduction where Ishmael Ree After a twelve page introduction where Ishmael Reed contextualizes the play as a response to Hamilton, this short two-act work opens with an imagined conversation between Alexander Hamilton and George Washington where Washington is coaching Hamilton on the acquisition of land, wealth, and power. With crude candor, Washington tells Hamilton to stop the “beacon of hope” talk and to be honest- the revolution is about securing Indigenous land and keeping their slaves. After this scene, we meet a fictionalized Lin-Manuel Miranda, who is visited by a procession of ghosts, each representing a different historical absence or distortion. 

I find myself in an unusual position of admiring this play more as an intervention than as a work of good writing. Reed’s argument is that a cultural phenomena like Hamilton should be subjected to the same historical scrutiny they invite. His argument is that Hamilton is also not an honest depiction of history. I was most persuaded by his suggestion (from the introduction) that ‘The Haunting of Lin-Manuel Miranda’ be taught alongside Hamilton as a companion vs a replacement. 

I was frustrated by what Reed seemed to be purposefully overlooking - that Hamilton also created an access point to history for many audiences, and part of its cultural impact lies in the artistry of the musical itself. This access came with distortions and omissions, but Reed’s own play demonstrates how difficult it is to transform historical critique into good art. This play is blunt, and lazy at times - characters appear, deliver information, and disappear, making it feel more polemical and rant-y than dramatic or plot driven. Clearly it is not so easy to find the balance of entertaining art and dissemination of information. Despite all this, I still think Reed’s project is an important one. If Hamilton is one way of learning history, The Haunting of Lin-Manuel Miranda offers an interesting counterpoint… I just wish it had been executed with more imagination, complexity, and care.

✨“Because of me, thousands of school children are trapped intellectually in the same lies as I was.”
We open with 53-year-old Daphne and her husband, J We open with 53-year-old Daphne and her husband, Jonathan, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where Daphne notices an older man following them. After her husband approaches him, we learn that the man watching them is Eddie Triplett, Daphne’s former stepfather. Eddie was married to Daphne’s mother for about a year before an event caused him to leave when she was nine. Now 76, Eddie is happy and stunned to find Daphne again. He is surprised that she recognizes him. In their encounter it’s clear something happened with their family but the tone is kind and light so we trust these characters. From here, Daphne and Eddie become close again and we learn about this event that shaped their lives. 

I have complicated feelings about this book because I enjoyed reading it. Patchett is so good at writing about the everydayness of a life and she does that beautifully here too. I believed these characters. And yet, despite my deep interest and knowledge of the mechanics of literary fiction, I still felt like nothing was happening. The novel lives heavily in memory, in unearthing memory through conversation which is why I liked the characters so much. There is something undeniably beautiful about the way Patchett writes relationships. But for me, it was a little too digestible. The words saccharine and mawkish come to mind- the conflicts were minimal because you know the characters are going to be fine, there’s a small lingering feeling of ‘what if…” and “all this could be different” but even then it’s hard to lean too deeply into that because everyone’s lives are pretty good. It’s a nice reading experience because everyone is so kind and understanding but that’s not really why I like to read books, I guess. It’s a strange feeling to finish a novel that I liked reading, loved the characters, even liked the ending, and still feel hollow or unsatisfied. 

✨“People are art,” he said. “It’s enough to just watch the people.”
Four days after his 50th birthday, Ficre Ghebreyes Four days after his 50th birthday, Ficre Ghebreyesus dies suddenly from a heart attack. In this memoir, poet Elizabeth Alexander takes us through the immediate minutes, hours, days, months after the death of her husband of 16 years. 

There are hundreds of books- of memoirs, specifically- with similar accounts of grief, so I wasn’t drawn to this one because of its premise. I was handed this book by a trusted reader and despite my skepticism of memoirs written by people I don’t know I read the first 10 pages and was drawn to the way this story gets told. There are so many incredible ways to tell the story of a life and this one was layered and revelatory. The explanations of emotions felt new to me. It is a beautifully written book. I loved reading about their life together, but what stayed with me more were her reflections on this life together and now apart. I was moved by her metaphors and poeticism. Some chapters are short, vignette-like thoughts. Other chapters tell more complete stories. Together, the book makes a lot of sense the way it’s told. I have dozens of pages marked with passages I loved. 

I read this book between sudden and quick sobs. My sister, who witnessed me reading this book, asked why I would read something so knowingly sad. I guess I wanted to stand at the edges of a feeling and see how close great writing could bring me. I don’t know a loss like the author’s, but Elizabeth Alexander’s words made me feel something I didn’t think I could access without living it myself. 

✨“I feel certain I can wait forever for him to come back. I leave the light on in the living room, the light that faces the street. If I am patient he will come back. If I sit on the stoop through the night he will come at dawn. He would have waited forever for me; he never was not there waiting for me. I can wait and wait and wait, as long as it takes.”
A freelance writer is approached by his friend, wh A freelance writer is approached by his friend, who has found the perfect home for his family in Tokyo, except for one impossible detail. The floor plan contains a tiny sealed-off room with no entrance, a “dead space” that they can’t explain. Curious, the writer brings the plans to an architect friend, who begins noticing other odd design choices. Together they do what any rational people would do: immediately jump to the most dramatic, horrifying explanation imaginable. The story unfolds through conversations, floor plans, sketches, and diagrams as they investigate not only this house but a series of increasingly strange homes connected by an elaborate mystery.

This book is completely ridiculous. The prose is as simple and functional as it gets, the plot becomes so convoluted with family drama that it doesn’t even feel like a mystery anymore, and every revelation somehow manages to be more preposterous than the last. I read it in less than 2 hours. The format is all dialogue punctuated by floor plans and illustrations which made it an easy read. It’s not quite a graphic novel, but the visuals break up the endless conversations in a way that keeps everything moving. It’s not smart or insightful. It was less about the mystery or literary devices for me and more about wondering, what is the next completely ludicrous theory they’re going to come up with? That doesn’t necessarily make for a good book, but it does make for an addictive one. This book was gimmicky and outrageous and yet I kind of want to read the others in the series….

✨“I had no way of knowing what kind of person she was from her emails. What if she was someone directly connected to the house? A possible murder house! But cowardice would never solve the mystery.”
In the early 1990s, in a small Irish village, teen In the early 1990s, in a small Irish village, teenager Lucy already feels a bit misaligned with the life everyone seems to expect of her. She is surrounded by close friendships and the rhythms of rural adolescence, but the conventional path of having a boyfriend feels distant and unconvincing- especially when it comes to Martin, her good, devoted childhood friend whom everyone assumes she will eventually end up with. Instead, Lucy’s attention is drawn more intensely toward her friendships and, in particular, Susannah. The early pages establish Crossmore as a rural landscape isolating its characters. 

What I liked a lot about this novel was how much it leaned on its atmospheric texture. The landscape is inseparable from Lucy’s interior world - from nature to sunlight to hot burns, to greenery, to nothingness… they mirrored the emotional states making the book feel sensory. I think it’s fascinating that such a familiar, known tale can still feel absorbing, and the fact that I was so excited reading it is a testament to the way the story is told. Tons of great one-liners, beautiful prose. I especially loved the early sections showing high school life and social hangs (being inside the mind of a teenager is such a treat). In that time, friendships feel permanent and charged with meaning, even as the reader understands they won’t last that way. The writing captures the intensity of first love and adolescent attachment with a drama that feels purposeful and right, and I found myself forgiving familiar tropes because the way it was told worked so well. I like half my summer reads to be this kind of evocative, and if they incorporate teenagers/friend groups, even better. It’s mostly light but there are some brutal, sickening lines too, haha. The sense of youth is really what matters to me here- young characters written for an older audience is what makes a good summer book for me.

✨“Too late I realise that she has been the Summer of my life. What a slow and painful death this shall be.”
Louise is back in New Orleans. Four years away at Louise is back in New Orleans. Four years away at college in New England may have altered her perception of the place she grew up, but in the opening pages, at a wedding crowded with the odd, eclectic, excitable people she once knew, she slips right back into its orbit. Alongside her friend Claude Collier, Louise moves through this world of debutante parties, sprawling gardens, afternoon drinking, and people perpetually poised between ecstasy and collapse. The return happens fast, but her time away has given her a new vantage point. She is both participant and observer now, watching this world with a mix of affection, amusement, and bewilderment. Louise and Claude spend a lot of time together watching each other and commenting on each other- both representing a very specific type of life in New Orleans.

I loved this book and I feel confident saying it was good independent of my own connection to New Orleans- though I do think this writing captures a lush decadence of the city better than almost anything I’ve read. More than atmospheric, this is a novel you fully inhabit. It moves through cycles of drunkenness, longing, excess, and inertia, and somehow the writing itself adopts that same rhythm. The characters are absurd and heartbreaking and Louise accepts and forgives them in a way so generous that I was captivated by her observations. There are hundreds of wonderful, strange lines that I bought my own copy of this book just so I could keep them close to me forever. I think it’s a perfect book for someone measuring the distance between a past life and a current one, or for someone who has lived in and loved New Orleans, or for someone who wants writing that is witty, fast, and alive. It’s hard to explain, but I feel so lucky to get to read this book and to know it so closely.

✨“Youthful folly is a thing which we had a great deal of in New Orleans. It is a thing which has its season, and its season is youth. I was surprised when I came back from college to see how long it pended with some people I knew. But I still felt there was a season for it and that we were still in it.”
Set in 1930s Taiwan, we follow Aoyama Chizuko, a J Set in 1930s Taiwan, we follow Aoyama Chizuko, a Japanese novelist invited by the colonial government to document her experiences on the island. Determined to have an “authentic” experience focused on food, Aoyama chases meals and local delicacies. Accompanied by her interpreter, Chi-chan, she also attempts to cultivate what she believes is a genuine friendship with the woman guiding her through the island. Despite her kindness and professionalism, Chi-chan remains resistant to a friendship shaped by the unequal realities of colonial rule.

I kept waiting for this book to surprise me, and it never did. Within the first few interactions between Aoyama and Chi-chan, their dynamic is already clear: Aoyama is fascinated by Taiwan yet repeatedly reveals how little she understands the realities of colonial power. She criticizes Chi-chan’s decision to marry and positions herself as someone who knows better (is more progressive) while failing to recognize that Chi-chan is not her friend, but a woman employed to guide her. What makes this more frustrating is that Chi-chan, the more interesting character, remains inaccessible to the reader. The result is a novel that feels like one woman saying, “We’re best friends, right?” while the other awkwardly smiles because she’s paid to be there. Instead of complicating that relationship or asking more difficult questions about cultural consumption, and power, the novel spends hundreds of pages waiting for Aoyama to realize something the reader already understands. There’s something biting here about how colonialism can disguise itself as admiration but the book states its point so directly and repeatedly that it loses much of its power. The food writing was fun at first, but that became repetitive too. My frustration isn’t with how oblivious Aoyama is (that feels intentional) - it’s that the novel seems content stopping at its most obvious insight when there was room for something much more nuanced and enlightening. I cannot believe this won the International Booker Prize. If we need 250+ pages of hand holding to grasp the elementary principles of colonialism, then fine - sure, I recommend everyone read it.
The opening page is a man asking his wife what she The opening page is a man asking his wife what she would think if he shaved off his mustache. She laughs, says it might be a good idea. He spends several more minutes contemplating the possibility of having that bare skin- an idea so foreign to him, before he abruptly shaves it off. Giddy to show his wife and friends, he reveals his face and no one notices. No one says anything! When questioned- his wife, friends, coworkers, all maintain that he never had a mustache. From here, his reality starts to fracture. 

I had a lot of fun with this one. The first half moves quickly and gets into obsession and paranoia. I love being trapped inside the mind of someone compulsively thinking through every contradiction and every perceived slight. The repetition of thought was my favorite part of this short novel because it captured so well the spiraling logic of neurosis. I found this book to be disconcerting, surreal, funny, and maddening all at once. The ending is funky and the pages leading up to the final scene felt slow and sloggy. Though there was a moment just a few pages from the end that really excited me. I liked the very last scene and the very last line. The ending is ambiguous, but not in a way that feels evasive or annoying. Books have to end somehow!!! This is an existential novel about identity and memory - two things I love reading different interpretations of. Might be the perfect book to read before you schedule your next identity changing haircut. 

✨“One should always hold on to everything, never overlook the slightest bit of evidence.”
This is the story of Christenze Kruckow, a woman a This is the story of Christenze Kruckow, a woman accused of witchcraft - inspired by a real 17th-century Danish witch trial. Christenze is plagued by rumors from villagers who whisper that illness, death, and strange animal behavior follow in her wake, and some claim she once fashioned a child out of wax to perform dark magic. The novel is narrated by that wax child itself, who serves as an omniscient observer watching events unfold while recounting Christenze’s story. Drawing from folklore and fairy tale traditions, the book moves in brief, airy fragments.

What I liked most about this book was the form. The choice to have the wax child narrate gives the story a strange, all-knowing quality that feels well suited to a tale about witchcraft and rumor. The prose is great- light, repetitive, and inherently witchy?? and the inserted directives throughout the text and any direct nods to traditional texts were my favorite element (like the excerpt below). The book creates an atmosphere more so than a plot, and I think that’s the point. Knowing the ending from the beginning made the writing itself feel heavier, which made the conclusion satisfying for me. I occasionally found the story meandering despite its short length, and the retrospective narration created a certain emotional distance from the characters. I wanted just a bit more texture and feeling beneath the pretty language. This is a uniquely told story that would probably feel really good to read on a cold day. I’d say pick it up when you want something moody and ethereal. 

✨“They consulted their books of demonology, and there read: The woman is more easily tempted by Satan, for she is weaker than the man in both body and soul. And they read: The woman is a wicked and imperfect animal. When a woman weeps she weaves snares, and labours to deceive a man. And they read: When a woman thinks alone, she thinks evil. She is not capable of good thoughts. And they read: The woman is feebler than the man and more easily charmed by the Devil. And they read: The word woman is another expression for desires of the flesh. And they read: All witchcraft stems from fleshly desires, which in the woman are insatiable.”
The book starts in Manhattan with a woman who is a The book starts in Manhattan with a woman who is at lunch with a man when she looks across the restaurant and sees her husband has just walked in. She contemplates, with us alone, if she should wave her husband over, introduce the man in front of her or if she should stay unnoticed. In this scene alone we get to know a lot about how she makes decisions and how much of her life is a secret to others. Soon we learn that the man she’s dining with claims to be her son. The woman, an accomplished actress, is preparing for a major premiere when memory/truth start getting a bit slippery. 

The writing itself is strong and there’s a lot of good one liners. For me, this novel exists in an odd space where the story never fully actualizes, leaving an ending that felt underwhelming and unfulfilling. I suspect that frustration is intentional. The book seems interested in leaving the reader in uncertainty and confusion. I think a shorter version of this story would’ve been successful -  the amount we dwell in the last 60 pages or so killed the momentum for me. My favorite parts were the jumps between scenes where it took several pages to reorient yourself. I think it’s impressive when a writer can do that with the right finesse. I do think it is a fun, kind of immersive experience reading this book - it’s easy to lose yourself in trying to figure out what’s going on but it’s not so strange that it’s exhausting. Admittedly, though, I have not thought about this book once after reading it except to write this review. And sometimes that is just what you need…

✨“Two people who want the same thing will never generate the same intensity as two people who want different things, or one person who wants into an absence, a void–”
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