I read this a few weeks ago and was blown away but didn't feel ready to post a review. This week I decided to write something but neHm! Hm hm hm hm hm.
I read this a few weeks ago and was blown away but didn't feel ready to post a review. This week I decided to write something but needed to skim through it again to remind myself of key plot points. And in re-reading, was under-whelmed! So now I don't know what to think, but I am first going to try to reproduce my initial awe:
Without spoiling anything, this book is focused mainly around time and memory and how we as humans perceive them and in so doing, perceive reality. It explores these ideas by taking a thought experiment and boldly pushing it to its limits, resulting in a highly imaginative, twisty-turny plot. It was fairly obvious early on that there is going to be some sort of weird time-y thing happening, but it proved more exciting and interesting that I expected. The book's greatest success, I think, was in provoking my brain into knots while shoving me through the roller-coaster loops of an adventure thriller of ever-increasing stakes, like a sort of literary version of a Christopher Nolan film (but one that holds a bit more water). Was it a credulity-proof thesis on the nature of time's arrow? No. But was it convincing enough for me to buy the premise while fascinating enough to enjoy the ride? Absolutely.
Something I really enjoyed while reading this the first time around was how it served as an accompaniment to Ursula Le Guin's The Lathe of Heaven, which I'd read a short time earlier. That book uses a plot device that is superficially similar enough to Recursion that they seem like companions; but rather than Crouch's "ok let's take that idea and see how far it can go" approach, Le Guin's focus is on the nature of human choice and responsibility. Hers is the intentional eco-commune to Crouch's utopian tech bubble. Ultimately they're quite different but it was fun to have read them in close proximity.
So what happened when I re-read this? First of all, in the meantime I'd read Crouch's earlier novel, Dark Matter. It, too, is a thought experiment turned thriller, and I greatly enjoyed it as popcorn reading. But there is enough similarity between the two novels to lessen the impression of either being quite as original as it might seem on its own. Furthermore, a few weaknesses that I'd easily ignored while plowing through with great eagerness the first time, now appeared more obvious; notably, Crouch has a habit of skipping entirely any periods of time over which characters grow and change, instead simply stating things as de facto having come into being. (For example, two people who start off as strangers end up being soulmates, but you never see it, never even have a chance to experience any initial chemistry, so their bond never feels genuine.) While not hurting the plot, this tendency nevertheless significantly kneecaps any character development, and put a ceiling on how much I could admire the book overall.
No doubt, I'm less blown away now than I was initially. I think the ideal reading experience for this book is probably the one I had the first time: I wanted an absorbing thriller, but I wanted it to be genuinely intriguing and smart; and I hadn't yet read Dark Matter. If you happen to meet those conditions then I highly, highly recommend this. If you don't then it might not blow your socks off but I still bet you'd have fun :)...more
I checked out this book from the library because I was looking for an absorbing literary thriller, and it served that purpose well. It's a page-turnerI checked out this book from the library because I was looking for an absorbing literary thriller, and it served that purpose well. It's a page-turner that you don't feel like you have to dumb yourself down to read. It's pretty well-written and the main characters are plausible. I also thought the world-building, as it were, was effective: the central focus is a reclusive horror director with a legendary body of work and a cult-like following. The scaffolding that Pessl erects around this foundation - descriptions of the man's films, and of the mythologies and rituals that fans have perpetuated in their wake - is mostly convincing. Settings are genuinely eerie and occasionally frightening. And I found some elements quite moving; in particular the young woman who spent much of her childhood living with her grandmother in a retirement home and who picked up much of her personality from the elderly and dying around her. (I was glad that this, and other instances of bathos, were used sparingly.)
But for a few reasons, I didn't think this rose to the level of "great." Some are quibbles with the plot and characters (the protagonist is a crack investigative reporter but seems totally incapable of subterfuge; confessions come thick and fast from witnesses with little incentive to talk) and others with the writing (when talking at length, characters construct their sentences in ways that you never encounter in spoken speech; as others have mentioned, there is a proliferation of needlessly, confusingly italicized words, as though Pessl programmed a bot to randomly italicize 8 words per page without regard for emphasis).
Still, I'd happily recommend this for escapist (but not empty-headed) reading....more
By far the weakest book in the trilogy. Shockingly for a work by N.K. Jemisin, it takes a long time to get interesting; I had to drag myself through tBy far the weakest book in the trilogy. Shockingly for a work by N.K. Jemisin, it takes a long time to get interesting; I had to drag myself through the first 100 pages. And while I loved the character of Sieh in the first book, I thought he made a poor narrator here. But most importantly, the plot hangs together very haphazardly. I frequently found myself flipping through pages I'd already read, trying to remind myself of events that happened so hurriedly as to be unmemorable, but that are referenced later and turn out to have been important. As a result the stakes felt confused and the action muddled. Still, Jemisin is basically incapable of writing something that you don't want to read to the end....more
In the Broken Earth trilogy, books 1 and 2 end on deliberate, almost over-the-top cliffhangers, and the three together form one connected story - noneIn the Broken Earth trilogy, books 1 and 2 end on deliberate, almost over-the-top cliffhangers, and the three together form one connected story - none of the books is truly complete on its own. By contrast, the books in the Inheritance trilogy, while sequential, and all set in the same world with many of the same characters, are distinct and separate novels. This, the second in the series, is nearly as much of a page-turner as the first, but the plot feels a bit less urgent, and the side characters aren't as fascinating, and the villain is cartoonish. Still, it's a fun read, and there's some more hot sexy stuff. (I'm making it sound as though these books are mostly about sex, which they definitely are not - I just think it's worth calling out when good books *also* feature good sex.)...more
This book was a revelation. After finishing I turned right back around to re-read it, something I've never done before. It's a slight little volume anThis book was a revelation. After finishing I turned right back around to re-read it, something I've never done before. It's a slight little volume and can be read through in a day or two; and it's a breezy read, not nearly as demanding as The Dispossessed or The Left Hand of Darkness. But it poses questions just as fundamental and difficult and fascinating, about purpose and choice, about how destructive we can be even when acting out of good will, about our obligations to one another and what role conscience has, and many others - it has so many layers. It's an idle thought experiment made provocatively serious. It's both fun and deeply sad. It has one of the best ever villains-with-good-intentions, and maybe my favorite of all of Le Guin's protagonists, which is saying a lot. All while being a page-turning delight....more
The first line of this novel is: The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravThe first line of this novel is: The snow in the mountains was melting and Bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to understand the gravity of our situation. It's a very good one. But it's false, because the narrator and his friends DO understand the gravity of the situation, they are swimming in it, it's the whole driving force behind the second half of the book. So that first line is actually nonsense.
There were a few things like that in this book; setups that don't get lived up to. An unreliable - in fact secretive - narrator, a mysterious classics program, an eerie sense of things happening offstage: these dry up, or never materialize satisfactorily, or are explained down to the tiniest loose end. By and large I enjoyed reading, I certainly sped through it as the suspense built, but now that it's over I don't think it lived up to its promise....more
Riveting. My only real criticisms are of its norms; it's extremely white heteronormative. A lot of characters use the n-word. Most women are reduced tRiveting. My only real criticisms are of its norms; it's extremely white heteronormative. A lot of characters use the n-word. Most women are reduced to "his woman," in relation to whatever man she's paired up with (basically everyone pairs off into male-female units). I get that it's "the character's voice, not the author's" or whatever but it's distracting and occasionally upsetting (the use of the n-word in the early chapters nearly made me put the book down).
But other than that, completely riveting and truly epic....more
I blew through this and found it nearly perfect. It reminded me of Ursula Le Guin, undeniably sci fi but primarily concerned with the good and bad of I blew through this and found it nearly perfect. It reminded me of Ursula Le Guin, undeniably sci fi but primarily concerned with the good and bad of the human condition. The best Butler book I've read, with the possible exception of (the very different) Kindred....more
This is a thriller about a young woman caught up in an imperial inheritance drama and trying to outsmart an evil and decadent society with both assistThis is a thriller about a young woman caught up in an imperial inheritance drama and trying to outsmart an evil and decadent society with both assistance and resistance from some powerful magical figures. It's a fun, absorbing read. Totally different subject matter from the Broken Earth series, but you can see some seeds being planted that bear fruit in those later works. (In particular I love Jemisin's ability, in both series, to draw characters that manifest as children but are in fact inconceivably ancient.) Like the Broken Earth books, this is undeniably fantasy, but by being SO imaginative and original, it's actually MORE appealing to a non-fantasy genre nut (like me).
Eerie ghost mystery / coming of age story mashup. I really enjoyed reading it; I guess it would be classed YA (which I ordinarily dislike), but I thinEerie ghost mystery / coming of age story mashup. I really enjoyed reading it; I guess it would be classed YA (which I ordinarily dislike), but I think it would also appeal to any (grown-up) millennial, including us older ones with a fondness for 90s nostalgia. The protagonist, 13-year-old Rosie, has a strong, clear voice and makes a good narrator, both in describing the struggles of adolescence and in spinning a satisfyingly creepy atmosphere. There are some good secondary themes which add depth to the story, but these aren't overly dwelt upon - it's fundamentally a thriller. I was kept in suspense till the end (which was almost too surprising? but I could just be too dense to have picked up on the foreshadowing). I could see this being the start of a series. Definitely recommend!
Full disclosure: I am acquainted with the author and had the privilege of reading an advance copy....more
What a terrific, captivating read about the pre- and post-apocalypse. I was a little nervous going in, because when my library hold finally came, I waWhat a terrific, captivating read about the pre- and post-apocalypse. I was a little nervous going in, because when my library hold finally came, I wasn't feeling as compelled by pandemic literature as I had been earlier in the year, when anxiety about our real-world pandemic had me so tightly in its grip that these sorts of novelistic (or film/tv) settings were the only kinds that interested me. Now that anxiety has leveled out into just the newest layer of fear, dread and hopelessness - not a mindset I particularly wish to indulge. But I didn't want to go back to the end of a long waitlist for this book, so I dug in at about 11:30 last night - and had finished it by 10 this morning.
This book is both a thriller and a work of literary fiction. As a thriller, it succeeds astoundingly well. St. John Mandel displays, early on, an ability to spellbind by using matter-of-fact language to foretell inconceivable events. These deadpan teasers are revealing enough to create suspense, horrifying enough to sustain an atmosphere of dread and, thankfully, they avoid being cute or overly reminiscent of, say, Vonnegut, which would have undermined the effect. I also found her to be masterful in creating fear. The risk of leaving precious supplies unattended, the darkness of a forest road, a town that's just a bit too quiet - moments and settings are rendered plainly but in a way that bristles with unknownness and, for me, was at times genuinely heart-pounding.
As literary fiction, the novel was a little less successful for me, though still quite good. The prose is fluid, sometimes dry in tone, sometimes sparkling, always very readable. I enjoyed most of the characterizations and loved the Traveling Symphony and its small and large dramas. A dwelt-upon line in the book, quoted from an episode of Star Trek: Voyager, is the mantra-like "because survival is insufficient." It's discussed explicitly in the world of the book, and it also serves as St. John Mandel's guiding principle: yes, she describes events before, during and after the fall of civilization, but just as important to her is to examine just what civilization is. Because as vividly and effectively as she catalogues them, the technologies, conveniences and safeties that disappear do not themselves comprise "the world"; rather, it's the 99% of the population that vanishes along with them - and the 1% that remains. How people see themselves, see those around them, and move through space and circumstance - feeling fear and love, experiencing success, drawing or losing the attention of others, pursuing visual or performance art - is what matters. Mostly I think this works, through the realization of the characters and the compelling events in their lives. However, I found Arthur to be an distractingly clunky character, distinctly unlikeable but not hateable, uninteresting and devoid of personality yet somehow represented as a sort of magnetic force brought to bear on other characters. This was unfortunate because in addition to being a linchpin for the plot, he's one of the most prominent lenses through which the world of human beings is refracted.
Only one other element truly fell flat for me: I wished that the interwovenness of the events and characters was a little less tidy; the completeness of the connective web was so total that its magic was diminished.
Overall I really enjoyed this and couldn't put it down....more
Wow. This book totally caught me off guard. Unputdownable plot, delightfully fanciful setting, capital-P powerful (and yet admirably subtle) meditatioWow. This book totally caught me off guard. Unputdownable plot, delightfully fanciful setting, capital-P powerful (and yet admirably subtle) meditation on femininity and motherhood. Bumping up from 4 stars to 5 because of how much it's stuck with me in the months since reading it....more
Bewitching from start to finish. I'd always stayed away from Gilbert because of Eat, Pray, Love, but then one day a good friend sent me an essay of heBewitching from start to finish. I'd always stayed away from Gilbert because of Eat, Pray, Love, but then one day a good friend sent me an essay of hers, which was remarkable; unfortunately, I can't find it or even remember the topic, but I recall being stunned by the quality of the writing itself. So I was glad to try out some of her fiction, and I'm deeply delighted that I did....more
This is going to be one of those reviews where I blather on and on, firm in my belief that anyone who disagrees with my reading of the book, read it wThis is going to be one of those reviews where I blather on and on, firm in my belief that anyone who disagrees with my reading of the book, read it wrong :)
By the time I got around to reading this, I had completely forgotten what it was supposed to be about - which is great. If I'd read that it was a "gothic romance" or a "suspenseful love story" or any of the other garbage phrases that seem to be used to describe this book, it might have negatively colored the experience. For one thing, it's offensive to reduce this work to anything less than simply a novel. But it is so completely NOT a romance or love story. It's about power and control.
In brief, the novel concerns a young, unnamed girl (the narrator) who marries a wealthy widower much older than her, and takes up residence in his home, Manderley, only to realize that every corner of the place - and of the minds of its inhabitants - feels suffused with the presence of his dead wife, Rebecca.
A lot of readers seem to be frustrated that the narrator is so meek. Here's why I think not only that that's wrong-headed, but that she's written masterfully. She's young - VERY young. She herself, as well as numerous other characters, observe that she is practically a child. Furthermore, her class background in no way prepares her for life among the very wealthy. And she has no support network whatsoever to fall back on - no parents or family or even friends to guide her.
The power imbalance between the young Mrs. de Winter and her widower husband Maxim (and his milieu) could therefore not be starker. We readers shouldn't be wondering why she isn't more willful, but how she is as self-possessed as she is, given these dynamics. She's quite astute in perceiving her shortcomings, especially when it comes to awkwardness among people who are now her "peers" and with staff whom she can't bring herself to see as below her. This perceptiveness doesn't help her to seize control of her circumstances, it's true, but isn't that the point? The world she finds herself in has customs that she's never been taught; she's never had a romance, let alone a marriage; and she simply doesn't have the maturity, the confidence that comes with lived experience, to impose her will. Reading her account filled me with pity and empathy; if I had been in her shoes at age 16 or 17, how much worse I would have handled it!
(Totally unnecessary aside: for some reason, judging this narrator for being a wet noodle reminds me of the world's judgment of Monica Lewinsky. As though she was the one who invited criticism. And this in turn reminds me of a tweet I saw during the #MeToo movement, when Hillary Clinton was quoted as saying that Bill's actions toward Lewinsky did not amount to an abuse of power. The tweeter's comment was, "oh, was Monica Lewinsky also the president?")
At the other end of the power spectrum is Maxim de Winter. It's hard to get into how he exerts this power over others without spoilers, but even in the opening chapters it's clear that, with the exception of his being seemingly haunted by memories of Rebecca, he has utter control over himself and his circumstances. He has spent his whole life at the pinnacle of privilege, by virtue of his class and gender (and, of course, race, though this goes unmentioned), and his dominance - over staff, family, society, his wife - is so natural that, apparently, many readers don't even realize that it shapes the entire narrative. By dominance I don't mean that he always gets his own way - but that, as du Maurier brilliantly and subversively shows, he holds the preponderance of power in any relationship he is a part of. Including the one with the reader.
There are other power dynamics in the novel, but I won't get into them since this review is dragging. I'll just mention another of du Maurer's master strokes: her cultivation of dread. This isn't a horror story; the feeling of foreboding doesn't come from fear of what might happen, but from the lingering sense of tragedy over what already happened. Rebecca is dead and gone, there's no ghost lurking around the corners, but her memory seems to occupy the staff and the family, and permeate the house and grounds - for which our hapless narrator serves as appropriate guide, more afraid of looking lost in front of people who intimidate her than of actually losing her way.
I'm almost entirely omitting the actual plot, because the foregoing environmental factors are what I thought was ingenious about this book. But it's somewhat of a page-turner as well, I enjoyed it immensely....more
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