miss_ipkiss_reads's reviews
260 reviews

Reading this feels like trying to speak to my greek grandmother in broken english. She might understand the words individually, but when strung together, there is a disconnect between what I mean and what she understands.

That state of confusion between words and meaning is where Selin’s story takes place. Selin is a Turkish-American Harvard freshmen studying linguistics and, by North American standards, is incredibly smart. But she is puzzled by the limits of language and can’t seem to understand why no one else struggles in the same way. The more Selin observes, the less she understands, and the stupider she feels. Batuman uses Selin’s character to explore the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis: how our singular experiences and perceptions inform our use of language.

Everything about this book feels oddly oxymoronic. I did not enjoy the reading experience, but I am fond of its overarching message. The observational vignettes by which this story is told are dense but quirky. Perhaps the density of this book was meant to mirror Selin’s inquisitive and disorientated inner state? Nevertheless, the reading experience would have been much more enjoyable had it been shorter.

Those interested in linguistics, in literature, in communication will really enjoy this. It’s a slow paced introspective read and it’s clear that Batuman pulled heavily from popular themes in Russian lit. Maybe I would have gotten more out of this had I read Dostoevsky’s The Idiot before picking this up. Overall I found Selin to be clever and relatable so I stuck with it until the end, but please do not pick this up in the hopes of getting a strong narrative arc or love story because you will be disappointed. It’s a book that is hard to get through, but also easy to get through. One that is enjoyable, but also not. It’s a book that will age like fine wine in your mind and you’ll catch yourself thinking back on it like “ya, you know what, actually this book is kind of brilliant”.

This is masterpiece. There is no other way to adequately describe the experience of reading this. Every word is purposeful, it's like Nelson is begging you to slow down, listen, and savour. This is a love story, but it is also a love letter to Black art, and the sanctity of black spaces. It's about how trauma gets in the way of life, of love. At its core, it's a story of a black man seeking the freedom of open water. One of my many favorite quotes is:"perhaps that is how we should frame this question forever; rather than asking what is your favorite work, let's ask, what continues to pull you back?". Caleb Azumah Nelson's voice pulled me in from the first page and the tender poetry of Open Water will continue to pull me back.

didn't really enjoy this one 
not sure if i will revisit it

Something about this just didn't click for me. I didn't get along with the writing style and I found the horror elements relied heavily on shock value rather than establishing a true atmospheric eeriness. Some of the stories even felt gimmicky and truncated. There were a handful of stories I did enjoy like Where Are you, Dear Heart?, Meat, and The Dangers of Smoking in Bed, but for the most part I found this collect to be pretty average.

To enjoy most romance I often find I need to be in a fantasy mindset, otherwise I'll roll my eyes at everything. I frame romances, especially taboo age gap romances like this one, as an exploration of desire and not an ideal to strive for. That being said, I did enjoy this one enough to actually finish it, but I do have some minor problems with it. I liked the writing overall, but I found King's (the male lead) voice to be completely at odds with the character she created. Although Darling did the best she could in trying to convince the reader to root for them, I had a hard time escaping the uncomfortable abuse of power in this age gap. The dialogue was cringey at time, but I stuck with it because I was willing to see where the story went, plus I had a soft spot for Cressida, I think Giana Darling wrote a compelling FMC

I blinked and finished this in a single sitting. Moshfegh brought her signature crude and darkly funny tone to this outrageous story which started out as satire then deviated from what I was anticipating.

Our nameless narrator wants to enter a year of hibernation in hopes of erasing herself and reawakening a new person. To achieve this, she consumes every prescription drug she can get her hands on and spends her few waking moments sat in-front of her VCR or in a blacked-out haze. As our narrator dips in and out of reality, the world around her moves forward towards one of the darkest events in New York’s history. The narrator’s own traumatic past has been eating away at her bit by bit, acting as the catalyst for this hibernation experiment which creates a character that is at their most damaged and disillusioned.

I wanna start by saying I loved how Moshfegh got me to feel for the narrator while highlighting that her nihilistic approach is only made possible by her status. This is the Moshfegh hallmark: writing anti-heroes that find humour in dark depravity but still make you feel a sense of shared humanity.

The narrator is aware that her position in society is what affords her this chance to run away from her trauma instead of dealing with it head on. She doesn’t worry about money while living in New York, collects unemployment despite not needing it, has access to psychiatric help, all the while aligning with the thin white blonde beauty standard of the early 2000s. Despite the narrator’s nihilism and desire to disengage completely, the world continues to embrace her with open arms, labelling her year of rest and relaxing an elaborate performance piece.

The final page has me conflicted. I'd hoped to see a different ending, one that would force the narrator to engage with the systems that afforded her a rebirth. All I can come to is this idea that everyone, regardless of societal echelon or character flaws, deserves to move through this world awake and alive.

science fiction is not predictive; it is descriptive

I wasn't sure what I was getting into with this book. I'd never read any Le Guin before, but I knew from the first paragraph of the author's note that I was in for something special.

The meticulous detail of this world was disorientating at first but I could still piece together what the story was about and where it was headed; the further into it I got, the more the world revealed itself to me. In fact, it wasn't until mid way through that the emotional arc between Genly and Estraven had me truly feeling connected and in awe.

This is a story about two people understanding each other despite coming from different cultural backgrounds and deep rooted sexual stereotypes. For me, this book is about challenging the binary, dissolving the boundaries of gender, and confronting gender bias. For Genly, a crucial step of acceptance is addressing misogyny, and recognizing the bias attributed to "female" qualities.

What I find most striking about this book is how 53 years later, it has me looking at our current world with new eyes. Reading this is a thought experiment just as meaningful today as it was back in 1969.

light is the left hand of darkness
and darkness the right hand of light.
Two are one, life and death, lying
together like lovers in kemmer,
like hands joined together,
like the end and the way.