All the single (or not) ladies

Wowza.

Holly Bourne's How Do You Like Me Now? has been on my reading list for a while, but things just kept coming in so I had to postpone it. So I took it to bed with me last Saturday night, around half past 10 - and the next time I looked up somehow it was nearly 4am and I only had 100 pages left. I decided to save them because I was having such a good time that I thought Sunday me should get a little fun too.

The book is about Tori Bailey, successful author of a self-help book, 31 years old, flat (and cat) owner, proud girlfriend of a gorgeous man. But everything's not alright. Her best friend and companion meets someone and soon becomes pregnant; everyone is getting married, popping out babies and looking fabulous on social media. So is Tori, for that matter, but we see her point of view - the deceit, the need for validation, the lying to one's self about happiness. As she uncovers what it's like to enter her thirties she helps us witness how everything around her is changing. And really, for anyone around 20-30 years, this won't be a surprise - the surprise is how the hell Holly Bourne knows exactly what I'm thinking.

What did I like about it?

I think what resonated with me the most is how truthfully Holly is able to describe being my age - I'm right in the middle of this age group, and this book almost read like a diary. She finds the thoughts and feelings that are characteristic; the worries and the concerns of our generation. The lies behind social media and the hidden messages in our conversations. And most of all, that fear. That gripping fear that, if you were to change something now, you'd have to start all over again - and think of all that time wasted...

I've never felt a piece of fiction to be so shockingly true - it's almost like she hit a nerve in me. It's a motivating story too, in a way, and almost reads like a self-help book; or, at least, a self-reflection book.

Besides, Holly has a fabulous writing style with surprisingly strong metaphors (I don't mean it's surprising from her; I mean it's surprising in general). The thing is, book stores might say this is women's fiction, and it is, on some level. But it's smart. It's so damn smart. This type of insight is rare.

What was I not massively fond of?

I think the one thing that other critics have also pointed out were the occasional insertions of photographs or imitation-social media posts. Although no, the posts didn't feel out of place - just the photos. At one point, a 'photo' of Tori's best friend is included and, if you're easily influenced, this could wipe out the image of her in your head in a second, and you won't be able to imagine her any differently. (I'm a strong, independent woman though and I won't do what you tell me.)

Another thing I'm wondering is whether this book would resonate as much with people outside of this age bracket as it did with me. Come to think of it, women - most likely. These topics are not age-defined. With men? Perhaps not so much. But hey boys, if you want an intimate glimpse into your 'difficult' or 'crazy' girlfriend's head, give it a go. You might be surprised about how much you can learn.

Overall...

I think I need to re-read this book already, and I only just finished it. You know when you go for a run and at the end you can't really remember a single moment of it, you just know that you feel pretty good now? That's how I was with Holly's book, except I remember that it was incredibly brilliant, funny and honest.

She has astonishing talent and I'm very much hoping her next book will be just as good.

Thank you for answering questions that I'm too afraid to answer myself.

10/10 (yep!)

Over the river and through the common

I could tell from the beginning that Putney by Sofka Zinovieff would be a tough one to read, let alone review. When I first encountered the book, I had no real idea of what I was about to delve into - turns out it was what most critics called a "modern telling of Lolita".

I read Lolita at a young age. Too young, I would argue, because I don't remember feeling outrage, or sympathy for Humbert Humbert - which I now understand was what most people felt, therefore the outrage - only seeing him as annoying and needy. After finishing Putney, I've decided to revisit Lolita again (although I need to give it a little break). 

Sofka Zinovieff's latest novel explores the questions of consent and abuse. The plot revolves around the relationship of young Daphne and Ralph, her 30-year-old lover, shifting between a retelling of their past affair and their modern day reckoning. It uses three different points of view - that of Daphne, Ralph and Jane, Daphne's old school friend - and their chapters interchange, giving us a good overview of the issues discussed and several different takes on the events.

What did I like about it?

The novel discusses very difficult subjects. Can a child give consent to have sex? When does affection become grooming? Which emotions are real and which are adopted?  It must have been incredibly challenging to write about something like this. This takes guts, and especially to do it in a way that feels truthful and believable.

The three points of view are also perfectly justified, and deal very well with exploring these issues. By giving a glimpse into the thought processes of everyone involved, the reader is free to shift their opinions from one chapter to the next, leaving an extremely uncomfortable feeling - as if we're never really safe. There is no clear consensus or right answer. On some level, the book is about being human and dealing with human problems. How we see the world doesn't always match up with what people around us see. I started out with a clear idea of who was to blame - but there were points when I wasn't so sure anymore.

What was I not massively fond of?

Although I thoroughly enjoyed the story, I found that Zinovieff's writing style just didn't agree with me. In creative writing, they often tell you to show, don't tell, but it feels as if she is both showing and telling, which feels a bit patronising as a reader. An example: "Unable to cope with the situation, Nina rushed out of the room and hurried upstairs." I feel the second half of this sentence would have been enough. Another example is Daphne's father, Ed, being remembered as quoting Oscar Wilde's famous gutter/stars quote. Jarring.

I also found that I just couldn't believe most of her characters as real people - they felt more like perfect vessels for the story to flow through. An example would be Jane's character shift towards the end of the book: although I can believe that she would change her attitude towards Daphne when all is said and done, I just don't think she would do it so dramatically. I also often struggled with Ralph's character, having trouble with imagining him in his entirety.

Overall...

Putney is a terrifying and eye-opening exploration of child abuse, extremely relevant today. I say it's an eye-opener because so many of us have no idea that, if not forced, why children would end up in situations like this. It's a strong, well-rounded argument for all sides, and an extremely uncomfortable read - making it all the more important.

6/10

Celebrating #YAWeek with two trilogies

Because Goodreads is celebrating Young Adult Week (that's #YAWeek for you Twitter-heads), I thought I'd share a quick post on my two favourite young adult trilogies - the best things do come in threes.

One of them will, of course, need no introduction, and perhaps now that The Book of Dust is out, Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials series may no longer count as a trilogy (although, according to Wikipedia, this next trilogy will be a companion to the original trilogy). 

Why should you read all three?

If you haven't yet read His Dark Materials - and I'm talking to both youngs, young adults and adults here - you are probably worried you'll be tricked into some average, churned out fantasy world, the likes of which overcrowd the 'fantasy' shelves in book stores. Right? Yeah, those series can be intimidating, especially with new books constantly being added to the series. You just can't be asked for that kind of responsibility.

This trilogy is not like that. This is quite simply a masterpiece, carefully disguised at first as any other easy-reading fantasy novel, then slowly shifting into something unexpected. It discusses themes that even an adult often grapples with - the importance (and reality) of a soul, consciousness, love, death and most of all, sacrifice. The characters are incredibly human and therefore hold our hearts in their hands. Often they stamp on it, for good reason. This is masterful writing - I can only imagine how hard it must be to craft novels that speak to all ages. But turn to Philip Pullman if you're looking for a master of the art.

If you've met me, or even know about me, you probably saw this coming. James Smythe's (writing as J.P. Smythe at the time) Australia trilogy is full-force young adult science fiction, crafted with the expertise I've come to expect from this author. After giving us the first two books of his Anomaly quartet (we're still due two glorious episodes), James took a trip to young adult world and left a trail for aficionados - here's your invitation. 

Why should you read all three?

No pressure. Read one. Good luck with not reading the other two.

I think it was these books that really developed my love for James' writing, because to create something so addictive requires serious talent. You can't tell, when you're writing, whether your book is going to be unputdownable; you just hope. And these books really are. Again, with some of the topics tackled in here, I wondered how old my child would have to be before I gave it to them - there's blood. And bones. And horror. But above all a gripping storyline and a powerful heroine, left to fend for herself on a spaceship cast out into space - but why? Can they ever return to Earth? And if they do, will there be anything left for them?

There are so many surprises along the way, so many interesting characters and ideas. I was especially fond of a character named Rex; her transformation, her story, her exercise regime (which got me running again). 

Unlike His Dark Materials, I do feel you need to be into sci-fi to read this, and not mind language that often aims to help younger readers access the story - but this by no means diminishes its value. In fact, this is why it's a gem of the genre: it's the genre, done well.

Pearls before swine

Circe by Madeline Miller was my first encounter with Greek mythology for a long time - and I must say, I have missed it dearly. It brought back memories of my first ventures, in fact, which were due to an amazing book by Alain Quesnel (Greeks (Myths & Legends)) - published only a month after I was born.

I read that book so many times there was probably a time I could recite it by heart. And although Circe wasn't in it, all her companions in Miller's hugely enjoyable book were there - Athena, Zeus, Helios and the rest of the gang, all just as whimsical as I remembered.

I don't claim to be an aficionado of Greek mythology, but I approached Circe being more or less familiar with the story. But it didn't feel like it, and I mean that in the best possible way.

What did I like about it?

Reading Circe was like watching a film adaptation of a beloved book - all the stories I remembered factually came to life, dramatised and filled with emotions. The story of Circe, witch of Aiaia, starts on the level of gods, but eventually descends to the world of mortals, turning it into a very human story. It is a gripping one too, in the very spirit that anyone even remotely familiar with Greek mythology will be aware of: looming prophecies, tragedy, caprice and horror, delicious to the reading eye. Miller has used every literary source at her disposal to create a full picture of Circe's story, and thanks to this it is well-rounded. It also brushes shoulders with other famous tales, from Daedalus to Odysseus (obviously), which gave me similar feelings to when I recognise a location in a film (it gives me so much pleasure).

Another thing that I enjoyed was how strongly she kept most of the characters in this mythological spirit, too. Boys will be fierce and foolish; gods will be self-obsessed and ruthless. Nymphs will be b*tches (pardon). The mythology rings true, so to speak, and you could easily be fooled into thinking she really was just writing up the story that's already out there. But that would be wrong.

Finally, Scylla. Miller's words paint a vivid, horrifying picture of her - this is perhaps the strongest image in the book for me.

What was I not massively fond of?

I think that Circe suffers from a small structural issue. In the first half of the book, the plot is extremely dynamic, and key events follow on each page. It is the birth and creation of Circe - her backstory. Even when she is sent to Aiaia, she leaves - as it feels to us - almost immediately (even though in her world it's probably more like a centenary). I don't blame Miller for this; this is just how the story is. But I think perhaps it could have been balanced a little better, as we do spend considerable time lazying around on Aiaia with Penelope and Telemachus before the plot moves on again.

Another thing that stood out to me was Circe herself. I found my opinion changing all the time about her. At some points, she would be extremely wise and see things clearly; at others, she would be self-pitying and frail, even blushing and girly. Sentimental, you might say. Which is exactly how I imagine a demi-god to be, true. But still it felt that, much like the sea surrounding her island, her strength and weaknesses would come and go, but without much structure. Some critics are pointing out a feminist slant - reclaiming a character who's been dismissed as minor over time, painted as a villain - but that's not how the book struck me overall.

Despite this though, she is an incredibly likable witch, and of course we all root for her throughout the book. Circe, the misunderstood. She did it before it was cool.

Overall...

A very enjoyable retelling of a tale already famous and fascinating - who doesn't like a bit of magic? - but with more details and more power. Although sometimes mixing modern language and what feels like a good imitation of ancient style, the novel still flows and is truly a page-turner.

Who thought Greek mythology could feel so sexy again?

7/10