**spoiler alert** It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, tou**spoiler alert** It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the book's subject matters & those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters that contain reflections on animal abuse, the death of a loved one, fertility, abortion, the sexual abuse of a child, the death of a loved one, grief, parental abuse, neglect, & others.
Veronica is a woman with a story to share. As is often the case, her reflections stumble; the narrative that is presented to the reader reeks of a solemn manuscript, kept ripe in the confines of an archival system long since abandoned. Maneuvering her way through four (4) decades of peril, amorous sentiments, confusion, equations, & lore, Veronica presents the reader with a series of events unbound by logic. Her life story is plausible as much as any fairytale or decrepit fable; the reader longs for a settled story & they find one hidden between the shadow boxes of new walls, built around a childhood sheltered by curious, strange, eyes.
This is not a book that I feel many readers will appreciate. Fans of Literary Fiction & afternoons seated on uncomfortable ground peering deeply into new wounds; this story will hold rubies & gems for readers who appreciate stories for what they are—tales to be told & intrigue to behold. I would not be quick to recommend this book to casual readers. That is to say, readers are perhaps more likely to feel a sense of enchantment towards publications that follow a patterned logic but which are quite hollow of the morbidity of secrecy. This book follows the narrative of a woman who feels inclined to share. This is not a book that contains a tale both otherworldly & trite. Readers will be asked to hang their inhibitions at the door & settle themselves into a room caved in with harrowing memories & distrust.
Should readers find themselves immersed in this book as I have, they may be uncomfortable with the tide that wipes clean their memory of any valid semblance of time. I find myself now, seated uncomfortably longing to pull the blinds down & attempt to regain the sentiments I held while reading this book. Yet, here I am without much to invest in this review. Rather than feel that memory has failed them, readers might be inclined to conclude that this story resides within the book & not within the mind. As a consequence, one needs to return to the apartment in the drumming heat of Rome to illustrate the complexities of a life destroyed by tedium.
In essence, this story is riddled with what might be complete lies. The main character opens the story by inviting the reader to believe that her brother has died. One soon learns that this is a habitual event. Under the all-seeing eye of a matriarch who does not seem invested in the well-being of her children, but rather more engaged in the societal perception of what it means to be a mother; the main character & her brother wallow in a childhood absent of stimulation. Their days are passed inside an apartment without access to the outside world. Having a patriarch who fears illness & pollution, they meander their days in a space that grows walls.
The walls do not grow on their own. One might be inclined to look into the metaphorical significance of each of these events; are the walls that their father builds meant to create individualized space within a collective entity? Why are there so many walls & how does the patriarch gauge where to build these walls? None of the philosophizing done by the reader comes to any secure conclusion. We wade back & forth through a series of recollections that engage the reader to wonder, question & prophesize what all these things might mean. Rather like in real life—the one experienced outside the confines of the book—none of the questions one has, are granted a reasonable answer.
Moments pose shade to the healthy development of the main character. Inappropriate encounters shape her into a neutrally traumatized individual, one rather disinclined from sharing with a room of people whose ears are deaf to her existence. Perhaps, I felt inclined to listen to so much rambling because within each section of recollection, there was a simple facet of truth. I do not need the narrator to be honest with me, I am rather disinclined from caring whether or not the story is altogether fabricated; the point is to be present. Veronica met me at a point in time when the summer nights felt long & my life was changing. Tomorrow is certain to bring a series of new challenges whereas outwardly, the waves have nestled still to the depth of the river.
Perhaps, because my mind was accepting of the banality of recalling a fraudulent painting & the worried rambling of a story that had yet to be written, I found myself absolutely immersed. This story does not need the reader to accept it as truth, rather the story is a story & that is all there is. Veronica suffers as much as anyone else & perhaps more so because her existence is sheltered between words written clearly but whose meaning is altogether lost on the stable mind of the observer. Each character in this book felt like a stranger waiting to make their way to centre stage. The antagonists—the villains & predators—malevolent winds gusting brutality against the windowpanes of Veronica’s childhood home.
In this way, I believe this book to hold a secret that it does not wish to speak; something undoubtedly dull, common, & magical. Readers might find themselves struck by the discussions of infidelity & love or, they may become stuck in the parables that guide them down city streets into disparaging apartments housing unknown people, dead to the story at play. The beauty of this story is that it will hide itself from the desired recall of the brain; where it hides, I cannot begin to know. One may be sitting, casually enjoying the autumnal breeze, only to find themselves pondering the rejection of Veronica’s writing.
One may find oneself perusing the events thrice only to regain a semi-smidge of valuable information. Why was Veronica unable to write a book review? Why does she remember her interactions with the author who does not remember her, time after time? Why is Veronica so tender with her brother while their relationship seems to foreshadow distrust? Why does Veronica remember her father so vividly as a man she misunderstood in all ways, even as a human being? The recycled perception we have of Veronica is the same one she shares with us. She lives authentically via a lifespan that paves the way for us to walk several steps behind; she is too far away for our questions to reach her with any severity or urgency, simply as whisperings in the wind.
Should readers be inclined to spend some time with Veronica they will find that she is unlike anyone they wish to ever meet again. Her recollection is plagued like a deathly disease with shallow emotions & trite structuring. Yet, she is also fully engaged in a horribly boring narrative that she is in love with living. I am not sure that I am in any position to fault her for that.
Ultimately, what I found to be the most endearing was Veronica’s commitment to herself. Teetering the line between the end & the beginning, Veronica colours her world in ways only another artist could do, yet, I trust that she understands this & she knows that I do too. This story flowers pathways paved in cement with uncomfortable silences & shadowy leaves of dying trees; every single breath between a new train of thought is a station to an unknown location yearning for the passenger to break free of the tracks. Like glue, the reader puts as much effort into keeping this story together as the narrator & for that, we are bound together like staples & straw; mangled by our own romantic perversion to recognize the person unknown.
To navigate through this story is to forget & recollect all at once. Veronica is a person all her own, her parents are people who live down the road & her long life is one that another might hope to live. I deeply appreciated sharing the space that the author crafted. This book is grim & illuminates the strange sentiment of insecurity that exists in all of our memories of a time when walls were built around us to redirect the life we were living. I will come back to this sequence again & I hope once more, to be met with Veronica as she settles in spiky blades of grass to convince me of something that might be altogether too earnest to be real.
Thank you to Edelweiss+, Grove Press, Black Cat, & Veronica Raimo for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!...more
My reading habits have changed very little since I was a child. Though we are often encouraged to seek the story within—not to judge a book by its covMy reading habits have changed very little since I was a child. Though we are often encouraged to seek the story within—not to judge a book by its cover—I find myself engaged in the love at first sight that comes from a book’s cover art. Certainly, one has ample opportunity to read the synopsis, flip through the pages, & even read the story held inside of a book but, I prefer to let my eyes guide me. This approach has led me to discover many wonderful stories & it brought this book to me.
I am no longer in the age range of the ideal reader though, I remain a target audience for ghoulish little books that happily present the world of the forlorn. I would have been drawn to this story as a child. The imagery was captivating & dark; warm in its hues of orange & purple that flowered the landscape of an abandoned manor at the edge of town. Though this book is perhaps not as spooky or morose as it might appear, there is certainly a need to warn the sensitive reader to remember that the subject matter might be a bit discomforting.
This story follows the young protagonist, Ghoulia, as she watches out the manor windows longing for a friend. Ghoulia is a zombie, which means she is dead. Other members of her family are elderly or significantly older than her which might lead a reader to wonder why or how it is possible for Ghoulia to be a zombie if she is so young. Though the plot does not outwardly deal with the subject of death as a principal facet of life, readers might be inclined to wonder about the circumstances. Ghoulia is also accompanied by her dog, Tragedy—who is also dead.
It is not a bad thing to explore the intricacies of this story with a more tender-hearted reader. Ghoulia’s existence is not plagued by horror or despair—death is not a bad thing; it is simply a way of being. Her main desire is to make friends with the local children who aren’t aware that anyone inhabits the old manor at the edge of town. With that being said, the age range of readers who might be drawn to this book leaves me inclined to express these facts. Ghoulia is a happy little zombie & is given lots of attention & freedom to “be a kid” though her situation differs from the norm.
With that being said, this story is wonderfully creative. I adored the Halloween setting & the ways in which Ghoulia advocates for her agency all while respecting the house rules—rules that are in place to keep her safe. Ghoulia is a smart zombie who understands her circumstances enough to know that she needs to think hard about how to go about succeeding in her quest. This story advocates for unique & creative approaches to goals all the while reminding readers that their safety is important.
The illustrations in this book are a delight. I will certainly seek out the following books in this series as Ghoulia goes about exploring the modern world in new & creative ways. The format of this book is enticing & magical. It encourages readers to interact with the presented imagery while fostering a sense of normalcy. Does the reader have a pet? Does the reader like holiday celebrations?
Ultimately, this was a sweet treat of a read. I am so glad to have come upon it. I would have absolutely appreciated the awkwardness of a family of friendly antiquated zombies as a young reader, just as much as I appreciate it now. For readers who are eager to colour the world of past & present with characters of grandiose proportions, this book will offer a silly darkness the likes of which line the streets during Halloween, in a jack-o-lantern fashion....more
Mila encontró una roca que la hizo sentó más grande que nunca; no podía creer que algo puede ser más grande. Podía ver las olas flotar hasta la cima dMila encontró una roca que la hizo sentó más grande que nunca; no podía creer que algo puede ser más grande. Podía ver las olas flotar hasta la cima de la roca, pero se paró sobre ellas y se divirtió mucho jugando en su roca especial en el océano.
Conocer a Carlos fue una gran experiencia y los dos nuevos amigos se divirtieron tanto juntos que no querían que se acabara su tiempo. Pronto Carlos tuvo que irse a casa y cuando se fue, Mila estaba muy triste.
Esta historia le muestra al lector lo maravilloso que es tener un amigo en el mundo. Entre todas las cosas maravillosas que Mila estaba haciendo sola, recordó todos los momentos divertidos que pudo tener con otra persona. Carlos tenía a su familia pero seguía manteniendo un lugar especial para Mila y toda la diversión que compartía.
Cuando llegan nubes de tormenta, Mila tiene que esconderse y mantenerse a salvo durante una tormenta muy grande que la hace sentir feliz de ser pequeña; ella puede encontrar un pequeño lugar para permanecer oculta de la tormenta.
Reencontrarse al final del libro arroja luz brillante sobre la diversión que los dos amigos pueden volver a tener en el futuro ahorró que ambos saben que están en salvo. No hay mucha moraleja en esta historia. Es decir que esta es simplemente una historia de conocer a la gente nueva y hacer nuevos amigos y creo que es algo maravilloso para tener en los libros.
¡Gracias a Edelweiss+, NubeOcho y Alessandro Montagnana por la copia gratuita de este libro a cambio de una reseña honesta!...more
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