Tag: Literary Fiction

The Story of a New Name

Leave a comment

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Author: Elena Ferrante
Genres: Historical Fiction
Pub. Date: Sep. 2012
Format: Audiobook

This series infuriates me.

I hate all the characters and the plot is outrageous. But I can’t deny that this is *literature*. I want to scream at all the characters, but they are 100% a product of their circumstances. Our protagonist is the most frustrating because she is one of the few people to become educated and get the opportunity to leave the neighbourhood, but is ignorant to understanding what drives the people around her. Elena will only ever see herself as poor and because of her formative childhood experiences with Lila, does not recognize how how much better off she is than her friends. She is the only person with the real ability to leave the neighbourhood of her own volition, but fails to recognize her self-worth.

This theme is further reinforced through Nino’s character, who despite also being educated, is an idiot. In contrast to Elena, Nino is well aware of his self-worth, but is incredibly selfish and heavily influenced by his own ego. He takes no ownership over any of his actions and is happy to discard his relationships when they no longer benefit him.

What is the most difficult for me to grasp is Elena and Lila’s friendship. There is obviously a strong connection between these two women, but I’m not 100% sure what makes them friends. It’s clear they are drawn to one another, but it’s a relationship heavily influenced by competition. I want to believe that these are two dear friends, for whom jealousy eats away at their bond over time. But I’ve never seen any strong roots between these two characters. There was a brief period of simplicity between them as children, when they had the common ground of both being victims of their upbringing, but that bond didn’t seem strong enough to me to withstand all the trials they’ve put their friendship through.

For me, Lila is an inflammatory character. I know this is intentional, but the jealousy and competition between these two characters is so prevalent that it’s hard to believe the two could still tolerate to be around one another. After Ischia, there is an extended period of distance between them. For me it begs the question of when the meaningful and moving part of their friendship will be showcased?

But damn, this series is well written. I love a good unlikeable character and you cannot deny that Ferrante is a genius at distilling relationships. This does read like classic literature to me in that, it’s at times boring, it can feel extraneous and overwritten, and yet, even the most mundane of interactions serves to provide depth and nuance to a complicated cast of characters. The characterization is central to the themes of the novel, and yet the plot is still engaging and critical to the story. It’s a blend of these two essential elements of literature. It makes me want to beat my head against the wall at the ignorance and stupidity of the characters, but they are so well crafted that you can’t help to step back and reflect on what makes these people react the way them do.

I kind of hate it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I definitely need a break from this series, but of course that ending has me wondering what more chaos and heartache Nino is going to bring to the story in the next volume. Most of all, I hope to see some real threads of friendship and selflessness between Elena and Lila. And I hope that Elena will finally start to recognize her own self-worth.

What Comes After

1 Comment

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐
Author: JoAnne Tompkins
Genres: Fiction
Pub. Date: Apr. 2021 (read Oct. 2021 on Audible)

It’s been awhile since I read this one, but I wanted to review it anyways because it’s one of the stranger books I read in 2021. I’d seen it floating around on Goodreads and it was a bit of an impulsive buy as an audiobook.

What Comes After is set in the pacific northwest and is about what life is like after you experience a major tragedy. In this case, it’s about a teenage boy who goes missing, and then his best friend confesses to having killed him before taking his own life. Understandably, both boys families, who are next door neighbours, are traumatized by the loss of their sons, as is young Evangeline, who is a runaway girl that was connected to both boys.

Evangeline ends up forging relationships with both boys families and we get multiple perspectives from Evangeline and the parents. I wasn’t really sure what to make of this one. It was an interesting concept and the writing is fine, but everything about the book made me so uncomfortable that it was hard to really like it. I feel like being uncomfortable is kind of the point with a book like this, but I struggled to connect with some of the characters. I liked Laurie, who was the mother of the boy who killed himself and struggles with feelings of both grief and guilt, but I didn’t really like Isaac, the father of the boy who was murdered. Isaac is a mormon and while there’s nothing wrong with this, I didn’t find him a particularly relatable character. Nor did I really connect with Evangeline, which I wish I had because she’s one of the most interesting characters in the book and a real victim of circumstance. She’s a liar and reluctant to open up, neither of which I faulted her for, but it did make me feel detached from her character.

I liked some of the themes that the author explored around abuse and survivorship and I think it makes for a really interesting debut, but I had to admit that I just couldn’t really relate with the characters. The circumstance is so dark and while murder and intrigue make for a great mystery novel, as literary fiction it was just something that I had no reference point for. I couldn’t really move past my discomfort with the storyline and while it wasn’t a bad novel by any means, I just don’t think I’d want to return for more.

So overall, a solid 3 star read, not bad, not great, just not really a book that I enjoyed either.

Transcendent Kingdom

2 Comments

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Author: Yaa Gyasi
Genres: Fiction
Pub. Date: Sep 2020 (read Nov. 2020)

To Date, Gyasi’s first book, Homegoing, is the highest ranked book my book club has read – and we’ve been reading a book a month since 2012. So I was super excited to pick up Yaa Gyasi’s new book for our November meeting.

Transcendent Kingdom is completely different from Homegoing, but in the best possible way. Homegoing is a wonderful piece of multi-generational, historical fiction, while Transcendent Kingdom is a deeply introspective look at grief, addiction, mental health, religion, and the challenges of being an immigrant. I could see how some fans of Homegoing might be disappointed with Transcendent Kingdom, but I loved that the author tried something new in this book and I think she really showcased her versatility as an author. So even though this book is getting most of its press because of Homegoing, try not to let Homegoing influence your expectations.

Gifty is a PhD candidate who has studied medicine at both Harvard and Stanford. She’s been studying addiction and whether there’s a neurological way to break the cycle through lab experiments with mice. Her studies are driven by her own tragic past as her brother, Nana, was addicted to opioids. Her family immigrated to America from Ghana before she was born and she’s always had to walk the line between two worlds and cultures.

Meanwhile, her mother shows up at her apartment after undergoing her own emotional breakdown and spends weeks in Gifty’s bed battling depression. Her mother had a similar struggle with depression 20 years prior, after Nana’s death. Like the last time, Gifty is determined to help lift her mother out of her pit of depression, but has absolutely no idea how to help her. As she tries to encourage her mother to reignite her faith, she is reminded of her childhood and the deep-seated role religion and spirituality played in her own life.

I don’t think this was a perfect book. I think the structure could have used a little more work and I would have liked to see some of the themes developed further. Gyasi tackles a lot of issues in this short book and I’m not sure she was able to do them all justice in just 260 pages. That said, life and grief and mental illness are all messy. Healing is not linear and it does not fit into a nice like hallmark-movie narrative. I felt the story ended too soon – I wanted to see more of a resolution to some of the themes – but I also appreciated that grief and depression are things that we carry with us for many years and that though we all seek catharsis and closure, we don’t always get it.

That said, while I did feel her exploration of her Mom’s depression could have been a little better developed, I thought she did a great job exploring some of her other themes, particularly around grief, addiction, and religion. I really liked how the narrative was developed. There’s no clear delineation between the past and the present, with her current day experiences triggering past memories throughout the novel. I could see how this structure might be frustrating for some, but I loved gaining those little insights into Gifty’s past and how those past experiences influenced who she is today and her relationship with her mom. 

But the highlight of the book for me was Gyasi’s look at the role religion played in Gifty’s life, and how despite her best efforts, she was never able to completely shed that upbringing. I had a big religious upbringing myself and while I haven’t been trying to shed that background the same way Gifty was, I really related to her in the ways that it hurt and helped her. Unfortunately religion also brings with it a lot of shame and guilt. I wish it wasn’t the case, but it does create an internalized sense of shame and feelings of anger and frustration when religious institutions are not the good and holy influence that they should be. There are a lot of christians who carry around a lot of misplaced righteousness and it has not made the world a better place. 

But more than anything, I felt Gifty was really just looking for something to belong to. She has more often than not been the only black person in her church, in her classes, in her program, and she has struggled to make friends and connect with people. Her brother was the one person she felt close to and when she lost him and her mother started to fall apart, she had no one that she could turn to. Her faith in God was destroyed by the loss of her brother, and to an extent by the hypocrisy of the Christians in her church and town. But while she tries to leave her faith behind or explain it away, she’s never able to fully dismiss her spiritual experiences. Despite her church not caring for her family the way they should have, her pastor was there for her and her mom when they needed him and she finds herself seeking comfort in the familiarity of church services and her favourite bible verses. It’s hard to describe the feelings Gyasi’s narrative evoked, but I just really connected with Gifty and despite all that is different between me and Gifty, I found her very relatable.

Finally, the writing was lovely. It’s a very introspective plot – it’s not character driven in the way I normally like in literary fiction, but I liked how the author explored her ideas and how I came to understand Gifty and her family a little better throughout the course of the novel. Like I said, the narrative is a bit all over the place, but honestly that’s exactly what my thought process is like too, so it just worked for me.

Definitely recommend this one, just set aside your expectations because this is not like Homegoing. 

Dual Citizens

1 Comment

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Author: Alix Ohlin
Genres: Literary Fiction, Canadian Lit
Pub. date: Jun. 2019 (read Feb. 2020 on Audible)

Dual Citizens is one of the those weird creations of Canadian literature that I ended up really loving, yet wouldn’t necessarily recommend to everyone. It’s a bit of an artsy story with a meandering plot, but it’s ultimately about family and sisterhood and that really resonated with me.

Lark and Robin are sisters that grew up in Montreal and received little attention or praise from their young mother. So they instead look to one another for support and long for the day when they can branch out on their own. Lark is shy but very studious and does well in school, earning herself a scholarship for a college in the States. Robin learns to play the piano and has a natural talent for it. She is dismayed when Lark leaves her behind to go to school and within the year she runs away to live with Lark.

Eventually Lark discovers a love for film and Robin is accepted to study piano at Julliard. But the pressure of music school gets to her and as Lark dives further into her film degree, the sisters begin to grow apart. The separation between the two sisters was jarring and upsetting for me. They were all each other had and I felt as set adrift by the separation as Lark did. The sisters are very different and Lark struggles to understand why her sister suddenly distances herself and they begin to grow apart, each caught up in their own struggles and insecurities.

Lark spends a lot of time working in the film industry and is quite successful, but she reads like a character who just moves through life without actually engaging in it. She is passive in every scenario and I really felt like part of her was missing during her estrangement from Robin. I’m not really an artsy person and I don’t care for film, but I really loved the storytelling in this book. I just felt this ache throughout for the relationship that Lark and Robin once had and the strain and impact that the loss of communication had on Lark. The feeling of incompleteness while the two were separated and the tenseness that continued between them even once they were reunited. It’s scary to watch two people that were so close become disconnected to the point that they don’t really know who the other person is anymore.

It really reminded me of the feelings of nostalgia and sadness that you get when you return home and realize that the people you loved and spent so much time with have all changed. The feeling of moving on, but thinking fondly of the experiences you once shared, but the sadness of realizing that some experience meant more to one person than the other.

It’s hard to describe, but Lark’s longing for both motherhood and a renewed relationship with her sister were so authentic. It’s a slow moving story with little driving the plot, but I related so keenly to Lark. I think Ohlin captured a very flawed, but real relationship, and I felt really invested in Lark’s life. I don’t think it’s a story for everyone though and I’m not sure I’d want to read it again because of the emotional toll, but I’m glad to have picked it up and thoroughly enjoyed the audiobook. A great story with a lot of depth!

Ask Again, Yes

2 Comments

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Author: Mary Beth Keane
Genres: Fiction, Literary Fiction
Pub. date: May 2019 (read Jul. 2019)

This is the exact kind of literary fiction I love to read. After last year’s fantasy-fest, I’ve been reading a lot of different stuff, much of which falls into the general and lit fiction genres and I’ve really been enjoying it. Ask Again, Yes gives me so many vibes from Little Fires Everywhere (even the cover looks the same!), but it definitely holds its own in the genre.

Ask Again, Yes tells the story of two families that grew up together in New York state and the impact and consequences of their actions over 4 decades. Francis Gleeson and Brian Stanhope worked together for a brief time in the police force and end up living next door to one another in Gillam. Both their wives are pregnant around the same time and while Lena Gleeson gives birth to 3 daughters, Anne Stanhope struggles with fertility before eventually giving birth to a son, Peter. Anne never got along with the Gleeson’s and when her son, Peter, and the Gleeson’s youngest daughter, Kate, become best friends, all parents struggle with it, eventually leading to a tragic event in Peter and Kate’s 13th year.

Eventually everyone goes their own separate ways, but the consequences of that night ripple through everyone’s lives for years after. It’s not a fast moving story and I could definitely see some people struggling with it, but Keane explores a lot of different themes and I thought the book was super insightful into different human behaviours.

Ask Again, Yes explores a lot of different questions. Can we ever escape the past? Can we learn to forgive those who have hurt us? Are we really capable of change? Are our behaviours learned or inherited? It’s a sad read at times and hopeful at others. But what I really loved was how well developed and how genuine every single character was. When it gets down to it, I didn’t actually have very much in common with any of the characters, but their thoughts, emotions, and reactions are all incredibly relatable. On paper their relationships look great and if you try to articulate how they aren’t, it’s really hard, and yet you understand why some of the characters make such bad decisions.

As someone who is getting married within the month, I was so anxious reading about some of the relationships and marriages in this book. More than one marriage is challenged; some of them fail, others survive. But what made it so scary was that I felt most of the problems in the relationships were solvable, and yet I understood why someone might choose to walk away from that relationship anyways. A scary thought when you’re getting ready to walk down the aisle yourself, but impressive for an author. She has incredible insight into human nature and I had no trouble believing that the characters would act the ways they did.

Overall I didn’t think this book had quite the charm of Little Fires Everywhere. I think they both had a lot of interesting things to say, but Ask Again, Yes does drag in some parts, whereas I always felt propelled forward by the narrative in Ng’s books. But it still explores a lot of relevant themes and I found it a little more realistic in its character portrayals. Mental Illness is a big part of this book, although I struggle to verbalize what the theme was. Mostly it was just something that was present throughout the book. Keane never tells us how to feel about it, but does demonstrate how our feelings on mental illness have grown over the decades. It’s not something to be ignored and it’s not something to be ashamed of. Recommend to lovers of character-driven stories.