“Normal People” by Sally Rooney.

I loved this book. So much so that I have already reread it.

‘Normal People’ is the story of a love that’s just not meant to be, which is honestly what I love reading about anyway, so this was a perfect fit. It follows the lives of Marianne and Connell from the moment they become friends in high school through their journey as lovers and friends in university and then beyond that. I loved the setting – the small Irish town, then Dublin, then the two of them finding themselves in one place or another, always keeping in touch. I loved the writing which seemed incredibly real and honest, especially given that the reader was given an insight into their thoughts, which they were so bad at expressing, as most people are.

Despite the fact that a good friend at work keeps telling me, when I insist that she must finish the book, that she cannot stand that the two characters are completely unable to communicate their feelings to each other and that this is the most frustrating thing that she has ever read, I could not disagree more. I think that this is a very realistic portrayal of why certain relationships would just never work, even though a reader might think that the characters are perfect for one another, or, going beyond books, this applies to real life as well. Yet even though I realised this, I could not help but root for the two of them.

The two characters were both just so well-written and likeable that I wanted to sit them both down and explain to them over a drink or two, why they should start to approach their relationship differently. Marianne is shy and quirky, blossoming after high-school while at the same time still struggling to find her place in life. Connell, on the other hand, although when we first encounter him in high school seems too unrealistic as a character since he is both sensitive and also the most popular boy in school, quickly becomes more and more convincing as a young man who, just like Marianne, is trying to figure out who he truly is and what he’s good at doing, eventually discovering that he’s good at writing. Although I mentioned that he did not seem to be a believable character at first, looking back at it, I realised that this stems from the fact that, in my mind, I have unfortunately accepted the stereotype that exists in most simplistic films or books, where the two characteristics of popular and empathetic do not go together, which is false and I’m glad that this book made me confront that.

It was also difficult to confront the fact that, as I said, I wanted the two of them to have the happy ending that they deserve, however it was just never meant to be. As a reader, many of the things that Connell does – either when he pushes Marianne away in high school or when he fails to work harder at sustaining their relationship when they first get together at university – seem like a form of betrayal. However, that is far from the truth. The fact that he does this just proves that he is looking for something else. Marianne, on the other hand, try and she might, cannot find happiness away from Connell and her attempts at doing this are doomed to fail because she never lets go of him.

This is a very complex representation of unrequited love and I loved it! Since, essentially, Marianne would do anything for him and she sees the value that he has brought to her life while Connell constantly indulges it, because he loves her too, but not the way that she wants, which is why they could never be friends and why they keep finding themselves in the same situation.

I feel like this is more of a rant than a review, but I really don’t know how emphasise enough just how beautifully and powerfully written this was, when it comes to exploring the lives of completely ordinary people who find themselves faced with the prospect of having to either choose between trying to make something that should be right work or to leave behind something that feels so meaningful but is, nevertheless, destined to fail. I also feel like this novel came my way at exactly the right moment in my life because I needed to think about some of the things which it forced me to confront. I cannot recommend this book enough and I am beyond excited to read her other book (Conversations with Friends) which is already sitting on my bedside table waiting for me.

I give this book five out of five wine bottles.

       

“Sharp Objects” by Gillian Flynn.

This book was impossible to put down. It had all of the elements I love – a strong female character as the narrator, a murder mystery, the setting being a small town in Southern USA, and a bunch of weird and unsettling secondary characters. While reading it I did think – this is a perfect story for a TV series as the feel of it reminded me of gems like the first season of True Detective, and lo and behold, it turns out that it is one. One which I have yet to watch, because I have been deprived of internet for months and so books have been my sole source of entertainment at home.

The book tells the story of Camille, a journalist, who reluctantly agrees to go back to the town she’s from because a child has been murdered there and her boss is adamant that she is the one who will be able to get the first scoop on who did it. Once there, she is forced to confront her toxic relationship with Adora, her mother, and also get to know Amma, her cruel step-sister who constantly surprises Camille with her lack of compassion and viciousness. As the story unravels, she realises that the two are implicated in the murder and, more than that, that her sister’s death, which happened while Camille was still young, is linked to her mother as well.

To say that the book is disturbing is almost an understatement, since so many of the things in it are bound to make the reader feel hopeless and disheartened. Starting from Camilla’s self-harm which gives the book its name ‘Sharp Objects’ as she is constantly cutting derogatory words into her skin, to Camilla’s mother’s insanity that expresses itself in trying to poison her children in order to make them ill so that she can constantly take care of them and stifle their independence, among other things. Especially once you realise just how realistic this can be. I remember watching a documentary about Gypsy Rose Blanchard just before I read this, which was a strange coincidence. If you don’t know the story I suggest looking it up, because it is both sad and fascinating, and having that in the back of my mind, I think also added to my unease when reading about Adora’s behaviour. Yet somehow all of this came together to create a powerful story that ends with a true hint of optimism, which adds the necessary balance to an otherwise discouraging tale.

I absolutely loved Flynn’s descriptions of the town and the people in it, while at the same time appreciated her concise and almost abrupt way of writing about interactions between those characters which fit so well with Camilla’s personality. Camilla’s involvement throughout the book and her attempt to solve the mystery as well as her reflections about her past and how she began to see herself in the girls that were killed made for a very compelling read. When it comes to the writing, I think that Flynn is incredibly talented. To illustrate this, I will include quite a long quote here from a moment where Camilla is thinking about her mother. It’s one which really stood out to me as brilliant because it was such a perfect outline of Adora’s character and the relationship between her and Camilla. I have to admit that it sent chills down my spine when I read it:

‘In truth, I think she’s always had more problems with children than she’d ever admit. I think, in fact, she hates them. There’s a jealousy, a resentfulness that I can feel even now, in my memory. At one point, she probably liked the idea of a daughter. When she was a girl, I bet she daydreamed of being a mother, of coddling, of licking her child like a milk-swelled cat. She has that voraciousness about children. She swoops in on them. Even I, in public was a beloved child. Once her period of mourning for Marian was over, she’d parade me into town, smiling and teasing me, tickling me as she spoke with people on the sidewalks. When we got home, she’d trail off to her room like an unfinished sentence and I would sit outside with my face pressed against her door and replay the day in my head, searching for clues to what I’d done to displease her.

I have one memory that catches in me like a nasty clump of blood. […] My mother had cluster of friends come over for afternoon drinks. One of them brought a baby. For hours, the child was cooed over, smothered with red-lipstick kisses, tidied up with tissues, then lipstick smacked again. I was supposed to be reading in my room, but I sat at the top of the stairs watching.

My mother finally was handed the baby, and she cuddled it ferociously. Oh how wonderful it is to hold a baby again! Adora jiggled it on her knee, walked it around the rooms, whispered to it, and I looked down from above like a spiteful little god, the back of my hand placed against my face, imagining how it felt to be cheek to cheek with my mother. When the ladies went into the kitchen to help tidy up the dishes, something changed. I remembered my mother, alone in the living room, staring at the child almost lasciviously. She pressed her lips hard against the baby’s apple slice of a cheek. The she opened her mouth just slightly, took a tiny bite of flesh between her teeth, and gave it a little bite.’

All in all, this book is bound to make you feel unsettled, while at the same time this is a great book to pick up when you have a day that you want to dedicate to just reading, because it is short enough to read in one day and interesting enough to provide the perfect amount of suspense throughout. I highly recommend it and I’m looking forward to watching the TV series based on it!

I give this book four out of five wine bottles.

     

“My Year of Rest and Relaxation” by Ottessa Moshfegh.

I don’t usually mind being surprised by books, but this one really surprised me in a negative way. There is no way to avoid spoilers in order to review this book, so if you do want to read it, then don’t read on.

The premise of this book is very simple. The main character, a young woman, has reached a point in her life where she feels like she needs to have a break from it. Therefore, as any reasonable person would, she decides to fall into a prescription drug-induced haze and just sleep for a year, not really having a concrete plan as to how that will really improve her existence and not being sure if this will actually make her feel happy and refreshed. Also, I may add another caveat here – if she will even survive, given the amount of pills she eventually takes. I liked this general idea because I thought that the concept of people wishing to disconnect from the world we live in is quite a fascinating notion to explore, and yet …

Reading about someone constantly going to sleep doesn’t sound very interesting and that’s because it’s not. Nothing else really happens in the book. The reader does get a vague insight into her life before this – her complicated relationship with her mother, her dependency on the therapist from hell who constantly prescribes her any kind of drug she can think of, her incredibly toxic relationship with her ex-boyfriend,  her even more toxic friendship with her only friend Reva, who’s the only character who is actually given a real role in this story, and finally there are brief glimpses into her last job at an art gallery.

The narrator is the most insufferable character I have ever come across in a book and I don’t say that lightly. On the one hand, I can appreciate the fact that the things that are objectively meant to make people happy, such as money, good looks, charm and so on, do not always make people happy and that depression or a feeling of ennui can affect anyone, no matter their circumstances. However, the narrator was not in any way sympathetic, because she constantly points out that she has those things and yet that she feels superior to those who don’t, such as Reva. On account of this, whatever interest I had in the idea behind the story quickly disappeared.

Lastly, this may just be me, but I found the author’s writing to be quite primitive. Sometimes it was beautiful and thought-provoking, when she did not try to rely on pure shock value. However, what seemed really unnecessary and basic was the added sense of doom as from the first pages it was clear that the narrator would awake around the time of 9/11 and that this event would be important, which was emphasised throughout the book in ways that seemed like someone making their first attempt at introducing foreshadowing in a book. For example, when Reva mentions that she will start working in the towers or when the narrator mentions more than once that her ex-boyfriend works in one of the towers. I still don’t quite understand what the point of that was, beyond trying to make the drama of Reva’s death – and with that the narrator losing the only person who symbolised her link to reality ­– more dramatic. This seemed very weak and, in my eyes, exploitative, which is how I usually feel about authors who rely on real-life events to add more to the plot and drama of their stories.

I would have known that something was not quite right with this book, had I paid a little more attention and noticed that all of the praise listed on the back of the copy I bought is for the author’s other book ‘Eileen’, which I have not read. A bad sign if there ever was one. However, that can happen when one just quicky reads the blurb and finds the cover of a book intriguing.

To conclude, would I recommend that you read this book? Strangely, yes. Although I found it irritating and for that reason quite difficult to get through, one thing must be said though – it is definitely original, from the format to the bizarre mix of characters. This will not, however, be a book that I will ever pick up and read again.

I give this book two out of five wine bottles.

“Into the Darkest Corner” by Elizabeth Haynes.

What a debut. This is Elizabeth Haynes first novel and I truly can’t wait to read her other books. I devoured this one in practically one night, turning the pages one by one because the suspense would not let me put it down. The next day, having had little sleep, I still felt like the book was a part of me, and so I could not keep talking about it with my co-workers.

It tells the story of Cathy, a young woman who has been traumatised by domestic abuse. The story is told simultaneously in the past and in the present, therefore the reader sees both how she met Lee, the man with whom she begins a relationship and who turns out to be a complete psychopath, and the aftermath of it all, specifically, of how she struggles with PTSD and a form of OCD as she tries to cope with her past. The stark difference between the two timelines not only successfully shows the devastating impact this type of abuse can have on someone’s personality, as Cathy was a vibrant and fun-loving woman prior to meeting Lee, but also creates compelling tension which makes for an unputdownable read.

It was so incredibly well written, that I genuinely felt the intensity of the emotions that Cathy was going through, which demonstrates Haynes’ writing skills. For example, the passages which describe Cathy’s obsessive and constant checking of doors, windows and her apartment were long and detailed to the point that they became anxiety inducing, which is exactly what a book like this is supposed to do. It is supposed to make the reader feel uncomfortable. More than that, having written about entirely unrealistic characters in my last review, this book gave me the complete opposite. Especially when it came to Cathy.

I think that the most impressive aspect of that was that Cathy’s journey towards recovery seemed very believable, which is difficult to achieve in just 400 pages. It begins with her making a new friend, her neighbour Stuart, who just so happens to be a psychologist so he can immediately recognize the signs of someone struggling with OCD, and as such constantly tries to help her and encourage her to go to therapy. Which she does and the small steps that she takes towards recovery, the setbacks, the tiny victories – it is all described in a way which is believable and which in turn also has an effect on the reader, as it is impossible to not root for her. Stuart’s character balances out the otherwise tragic story, as the moments that Cathy spends with him are the glimpses of optimism that both she and the reader need.

The character of Lee is perhaps the only thing I had a problem with. He’s charming, handsome, masculine (embodying the textbook definition of toxic masculinity), and a police officer, which means that when he starts abusing Cathy and stalking her, he has both the force and the skills to do it. Yet, he seemed so much like a stereotype of sorts, that it somewhat took away from the book’s realism. I do think that Haynes was able to truly capture the way in which abuse can begin – almost seamlessly – as it started from rough sex and went on to become incredibly sinister and violent. Yet Lee’s character was one which did lack depth, however I do think that it might have been a conscious choice on her part to not give him any backstory, so that there would not even be the slightest chance that someone might try to empathise with him, which is the right thing to do in this context.

This is not the type of book that I would normally read, but I am glad that I read it. The senseless violence was difficult to read about at some points, and yet it left a powerful impact. This book is certainly not for everyone, especially as some may find it triggering, but I would highly recommend it to those who are interested.

I give this book four out of five wine bottles.

“Sphinx” by Anne Garréta.

 

I picked up this book because I found the premise of it very intriguing. I knew that this was a love story, set in Paris, but the twist of it is that the gender of the two main characters is never revealed. That aspect of it was executed very well, however, I can’t say that I liked this book. This review will definitely contain a spoiler.

The narrator of this book is an academic, but is constantly drawn to the Paris nightlife, even working as a DJ in a club at one point. The love interest is a dancer in one of the nightclubs they frequent. The two are attracted to one another, first, purely on a physical level, and yet they then develop a friendship despite not having any interests in common, and as the narrator points out, being complete opposites. However, they are unable to resist one another for too long and begin a relationship. The love story between the two is very short, because just as I thought it might actually have some depth, A*** dies.

My first problem with this book is that the narrator is a completely unrealistic character. The writing is so incredibly pretentious that it just seems impossible that a person like this exists. This book was written in the eighties, yet the way this character thinks and speaks resembles rhetoric from the seventeenth or eighteenth century. This immediately became problematic because I could not empathise with this character at all and found them to be progressively more pompous. As a result, the whole story lacked depth because of it. The entire plot of this book being based on that love story meant that the reader has to actually like the characters to enjoy the love story between them and I just could not bring myself to care. As mentioned above – the two were not compatible at all, but even if that is sometimes not an obstacle, in this case, the relationship just felt empty. So that when A*** died so suddenly and the rest of the book was devoted to the narrator’s grief and sadness at this death, I could hardly understand where these emotions were coming from. This surprised me, because I am normally very understanding towards any love story that I read about.

Another thing which I think certainly didn’t work in my favour was that I read this book in English. When I bought it, I did not know that this was written by a French author, and had I known that, I would most likely have read it in French. Because the unique aspect of this story, namely the characters’ genders not being revealed, is much harder to achieve in French than in English, because with the latter one almost has to make an effort in order to add a gender element to language. Especially when it comes to using tenses. So I can definitely appreciate Garréta’s skill and writing talent in that respect. However, the rest of the story fell flat. There was beautiful writing in this book, but for the most part it felt quite pseudo-intellectual and overambitious and it lacked character development. Yet what I did find to be skillfully carried out, in relation to the exploration of gender, is how little it affected or mattered to the story. Therefore this successfully demonstrated that gender really can be seen as just a social construct and furthermore that by writing a story in such a way, many more people would be able to relate to it. If it was actually relatable, that is.

Overall, I would recommend this book if you want to read it out of curiosity, but I can’t really recommend it beyond just that. I think that one Goodreads user was able to perfectly summarise my thoughts on this book by just stating: “Ennui”.

I give this book two out of five wine bottles.

 

“Room to Dream” by David Lynch & Kristine McKenna.

I remember when I watched ‘Twin Peaks’ for the first time years ago, I immediately fell in love with the characters and the atmosphere of the show. Intrigued to know who had created this world, I looked up David Lynch and realising that I’d already seen ‘Mulholland Drive’ and ‘Eraserhead’, both of which are fascinating movies, I was willing to find out more about him. Fast forward to autumn of last year, when just by chance I picked up this book in a museum in Maastricht of all places, I thought that this was a biography worth reading for several reasons.

First, although I never read biographies, Lynch’s mind is something that I thought would be an entertaining thing to explore. Second, this is not a standard biography, since it is written in quite a unique way. Every ‘chapter’ of Lynch’s life is divided into two parts, with the first part told by McKenna who provides a very succinct and a somewhat objective account of the main events that took place, as well as adds the perspectives of Lynch’s friends. The second part is written by Lynch himself and, as one would expect, it is more chaotic, but this is where the charm of it lies, since Lynch’s biography is therefore also is told in his own words, with his favourite stories thrown in.

The balance that this approach strikes immediately made me like the book. Although at first it might seem repetitive, since essentially the reader has to read about the same time in Lynch’s life twice, there is not that much overlap, since the style of writing of the two is so very distinct and also because Lynch focuses on very different aspects of the same stories.

Because I have never reviewed a biography before and don’t ever read any, I didn’t really know how to approach this review, since I can’t exactly critique someone’s life story. What I can say, however, is that reading about artistic, creative personalities is always interesting, whether it is in fiction or in the form of a biography, and Lynch’s tenacity in pursuing every possible artistic endeavour under the sun (from film to music, to furniture design among other things) certainly makes it an exciting read. More than that, his need to be involved in these projects and the ideas that he is able to come up with are truly impressive feats. A quote which I think best describes this, as told by one of his friends, goes as follows:

We were once shooting a commercial at Point Dume in Malibu, and the call time was six in the morning […] David and I drove out there together and arrived a bit early and the sun’s not up yet. David wanted the sand flat and very organized, so these PAs are out there raking the sand, and David runs out and starts raking the sand with them! There he is, the director, raking the sand in the dark. It was so David, so about who he is, and his respect for other people, and his love for that homespun filmmaking experience. What I’ve learned from him about life and filmmaking and how to treat other people is something I can’t put a value on.

My only critique of this book is quite ironically also linked to the reason why I liked it so much. While I truly enjoyed having the double-perspective approach, the fact that Lynch was involved in producing this book, also means that there is very little in the book that can be seen as unfavourable towards him, which as a result creates the impression that Lynch is the greatest human being who has every lived. That might be the case, since it is quite a subjective assessment, but it doesn’t really make the book very realistic, since every single person has their flaws. And the only one which was really touched upon was Lynch’s many affairs, and even that was hardly mentioned as a flaw, rather it was portrayed more so as a character trait.

Nevertheless, I really liked this biography and would recommend it. It is very long, but if you are familiar with even a fraction of Lynch’s work, you are bound to enjoy it, since it is full of stories which would make anyone laugh and it can be a great source for motivation because his resilience and constant desire to pursue his creative dreams are truly inspirational achievements. To conclude, here is one of my favourite stories from the book, this one being about a show that Lynch did, because I think it perfectly encapsulates both Lynch’s way of telling his stories and also his outlandish artistic pursuits:

Part of the show was this skinned deer played by John Bell that was twelve or thirteen feet tall. He’s got big antlers and he’s on stilts that are wrapped in rubber that looks like skin and he’s got hooves at the bottom of the stilts and he doesn’t have any fur because he’s a skinned deer. The people I worked with there made all this stuff. It’s un-fuckin’-real what they did! Two hospital gurneys are strapped together, and at the opening of the show the skinned deer is lying on these gurneys. […] John Bell was a stilt-walker and he’s playing the deer, so he’s inside this costume lying down and it’s warm in there. All of a sudden there’s a point in the show where these workmen wearing hard hats come rushing out with these yellow light bulbs that they’re waving and twirling around the deer, who comes to life and stands up. And he’s huge. The deer starts walking and little Mike is down there with a searchlight lighting him up, so the guy on stilts has this blinding light shining in his eyes and the blood rushing from his head because he’s been lying there for a long time, and he starts tilting forward and falling into the orchestra pit. The guy on the snare drum caught him. Half the audience thought this was horrible, and the other half thought it was part of the show. So it’s time for the second show, and the fuckin’ deer won’t come out of his dressing room.

I give this book four out of five wine bottles.

     

“She Must Be Mad” by Charly Cox.

This was my second attempt at trying Instagram/tumblr poetry, the first being Rupi Kaur’s ‘Honey’, and given how similar they are in terms of both the poetry and the success they have attained, it is inevitable that the two would be compared. From the get go, I can say that I liked this book a lot more.

Cox’s book is divided into four sections – ‘she must be in love’, ‘she must be mad’, ‘she must be fat’ and ‘she must be an adult’, but each section still touches on a variety of themes, for example depression, relationships, self-image and so on. Indeed, what is consistent throughout all of these ‘parts’ is how relatable it all feels. I think that any young girl or woman, who picks up this book, will find that at least a few of the poems could just as easily have been written by her. As a result, while many of them are quite simple, in terms of both ideas and writing, while others verge on pretentious, which is why I couldn’t give this book an excellent rating, they are still more powerful than those in Kaur’s book (although I did like the first part of it).

The almost cartoonish simplicity of the poetry is what makes it feel quite light-hearted most of the time, even though the topics that Cox covers are quite far from that. When I had just bought this book and my friend and I were sitting in a cafe, I remember turning to a random page and reading the poem out loud to her and we both laughed, and we did so because we knew how true it was. It was the following poem which is also one of my favourites from this book;

all I wanted was some toast

I got a fork stuck in the dishwasher
And now I can’t stop crying
Whoever said depression was glamorous
Has clearly never considered dying
Over a peanut butter covered utensil
And that’s not the worst of all
The wet clothes hanger fell over
So I punched my fist into a wall
I’d rather smell than have a shower
The thought of socialising is scary
I can’t even binge on chocolate
Because ‘happy me’ cut out dairy
This is boring, I feel knackered,
All I wanted was some toast
But if I can’t handle that
I’m obviously going to die alone.

Yet I do have to admit that after I read the book and began looking at reviews online, as well as doing some more research on the author herself, I was left quite confused. The third part of the book, ‘she must be fat’, conveys such a powerful message when it comes to body issues and someone who is struggling with them, especially in the context of an intimate relationship, yet Cox is by no means someone who could be labelled ‘fat’. Quite the contrary. So this raises an interesting question – are her words invalidated by the fact that she hasn’t actually gone through the experience? This question applies to other sensitive topics in literature as well. Because clearly there are people who found themselves in these poems and as such could relate to a lot of what she was saying, but I have also seen others, who were enraged by the fact that someone who should be happy with her figure writes so pessimistically about her body, because this is only bound to lead to more people to have body issues. I would have to agree with the former point of view, but at the same time, this is an intriguing discussion to have.

Overall, I’m glad I bought the book. Would I highly recommend it? Not really. I read it more as an experiment, and while I did come upon these few poems that I found relatable or humorous, I don’t think they left a huge impact on me. Then again, to each his own, since I know that a lot of people had a very different perspective when finishing the book. I think that this might stem from the fact that I prefer to read novels in general and as such I prefer to become immersed in characters and stories, so that poetry has very rarely evoked the same emotions in me as novels have. Therefore I am perhaps too biased to give this an honest review.

I give this book three out of five wine bottles.

    

“Men Without Women” by Haruki Murakami.

I hadn’t picked up a book by Murakami in a while, despite him being one of my favourite authors. Looking back at my last review of one of his books, I said that I had to take a break because everything he wrote just seemed too similar to me, to the point that I was getting bored and annoyed. That was a great decision. Because these stories are still classic Murakami, integrating all of his usual elements, namely; a cat, jazz music, rainy days, suicide and bizarre happenings, but they felt new and mesmerising. They provoked so many thoughts that after I had finished the book, I wrote six whole journal entries about some of the excerpts that I found interesting from this collection.

The stories range from ordinary to vague and increasingly mysterious. The main character is always a man who feels slightly lost in life, and as such has to navigate his relationships with the women around him with care. It’s fascinating how similar the premise of these stories is to Hanif Kureishi’s ‘Love in a Blue Time’, which I read just a few weeks ago, but the two collections couldn’t be more different. While there is a brutality and vulgarity to Kureishi’s stories, Murakami’s stories have an atmosphere of stillness and delicacy. What these stories really illustrate is how much people can really complement each other. The women in Murakami’s stories always introduce excitement or present a new perspective that the main character would not otherwise have. Granted, this seems pretty obvious since that’s how we all see the people in our lives, but through the prism of intimacy, these aspects can add so much more. The discussions between the characters are fascinating and although they often edge closer to philosophical musings rather than simple conversations, it does not feel pretentious or forced at any point. The best example of this is the dream about the lampreys, but it would be impossible to recount here as eloquently as Murakami did in his book, so if you’re intrigued then this in itself is already an incentive for you to read the book.

I’d like to take just two of the excerpts that I found particularly inspiring and comment on them here. The first is taken from a moment in a story where the main character has had to go into hiding, although the reader never finds out why, and as such he’s been cautioned not to contact anyone yet he still sends a postcard to his aunt. What follows are his thoughts;

Kino wasn’t at all sure what had motivated him to write that. […] But Kino couldn’t restrain himself. I have to somehow get connected to reality again, he thought, or else I won’t be me anymore. I’ll become a man who doesn’t exist.

I had never encountered this feeling being described before, so this came as a pleasant surprise. Perhaps not everyone can relate to it, as I think it really applies to this theme of loneliness, but sometimes one may be overcome with this sensation that you are fading away, somehow disappearing from reality and at that moment there is a strong urge to either contact someone or, what social media has made increasingly easy, to prove that you still exist by making your presence known. It does not fall into the category of attention-seeking, since this particular feeling comes from a darker place. One which is difficult to explain if you have not been there. In any case, this was a small but meaningful excerpt.This is especially true for introverts because we often tend to live inside our minds, so much so that is is easier to get lost in that and disconnect from the world.

Funnily enough, I’d already written about the second excerpt but changed my mind about what I wanted to say about this collection. I’d rather like to comment on the very last story, titled ‘Men Without Women’. This is a story of longing, with very few details. It rather sets the scene of a man remembering a woman in his life, who has just died, and as he remembers her, he begins to feel as if a part of him has gone as well. The level of detail that Murakami is able to go into with regard to their affair, while still remaining vague enough that this story could apply to almost anyone, is an absolute skill. But the main question, that arises after reading it, is; what makes a man place himself in the category of ‘Men Without Women’? I found it beyond compelling to try to understand why this particular woman’s death evoked such strong emotions in the main character. The answers ranged from cynical – being that she had killed herself and so he felt obliged to delve into memories and moments spent with her, to more profound – that every person who we encounter leaves their mark upon us, and whether we like to admit it or not, we think about them more often that we’d like to admit, and as such their death, even if we have not see them for years, sends ripples of true sadness upon us, as if, because of that person being forever gone, the hope, which persists in our minds that we might one day encounter them and the story might begin anew, is gone.

This might quite possibly be my longest review, but I feel like this book deserved this in-depth and personalised analysis. I couldn’t even begin to express how much I suggest that you read it, because there are so many minute fragments from the conversations between the main characters, that I think might lead to some interesting thoughts, that it would be great to see what other people take away from this gem of a collection.

I give this book five out of five wine bottles.

        

“Olive Kitteridge” by Elizabeth Strout.

I remember when my friend gave me this book, after having recommended it to me time and time again, and I said; “I’ll definitely read it. I’ve been looking to read something a bit more lighthearted anyway,” and she looked at me and said “I wouldn’t say that the book is lighthearted in any way”. How right she was. Elizabeth Strout pulls at your heartstrings so much that you hardly have any left after reading this story.

The book follows the life of Olive Kitteridge, a seventy year-old retired teacher, as she lives out her days with her husband Henry, while struggling to maintain a relationship with their son Christopher. Alongside of that the book is divided into small chapters, which focus on various other people from the small town in Maine that the Kitteridges live in. Olive appears either directly in these stories as well or is merely mentioned. Thereby, while you could not exactly call her the lead character, her presence due to her brusque attitude and strong opinions is always noticed. The stories in between each has a different theme, so they would be too difficult to explore in one review, but just because of them I would already recommend reading the book, since I was fascinated by Strout’s ability and skill to introduce such complex characters and intriguing stories in such a short format. They all do have a thread of melancholy running through them whether because they focus on an older couple and as such deal with growing old and the significance of relationships in that context or at the other end of that, unfulfilled dreams, hopes and prejudices that hinder younger people living in small towns.

Yet when it comes to Oliver herself, I felt like I gained insight into a terrifying but incredibly common set of problems that come with being a different age and living in a different world. Starting with her relationship with Henry – someone who has loved her so much throughout the years, but whose love seems to have been slightly lost on her. Although then the question emerges of what love actually is. Because it’s clear that she cares for him and that his companionship has been a support beam for her throughout the years. Yet the reader is given a brief look at her affair which didn’t work out, not because of a lack affection on either side but because of the tragic circumstances of how her lover died. And so one has to wonder whether her life with Henry was more deserving of the term love or if her affair had broken them apart, would Olive’s feelings towards this man could have been true love? Life is a tricky thing to understand and predict.

Then there’s her relationship with her son Christopher. It was truly agonising to read about their dynamic where Olive feels like she has done her utmost to show him her love and do the best for him, while he attempts to distance himself from her, because he resents her for her lack of affection. Yet at the same time this seems understandable, because Christopher sees her as an overbearing mother figure and someone who has irrational outbursts when it comes to one thing or another. The reason why this was so painful to read about is because I have seen cases like this in real life with people close to me, and at the end of the day this misunderstanding between the two of them, this resentment on Christopher’s side could be very easily solved were they just to talk about it, which almost happens by the end of the book. Having seen similar situations around me in real life, it made this story all the more heartfelt, and I could only empathise with Olive who feels like she is losing the only thing that is still left in her life, and which makes life worth living.

Her character in general is either one you’ll love or hate. She has a straight-forward attitude when it comes to expressing her views and does not give a damn about what people think of her, which is why, although she is respected, people tend to shy away from her. For this reason, I’ve seen people refer to her as an ‘old miser’ in reviews, but since I enjoyed her brutal honesty and, as I tend to interact with similar people in real life and enjoy their company, I found her to be hilarious and a breath of fresh air.

There is so much emotional depth within these pages, from the complexities of relationships, to the minute tragedies of people living in the bubble of this town, that this book will take you through a range of emotions, at times provoking a laugh, while sometimes making you feel as though your heart is being scratched out. The writing is beautiful, as Strout captures the setting in all of its details, from the landscape, through the seasons, to the most fascinating facets of the personalities in these stories. I would highly recommend this book, although I think that not everyone will enjoy it. This is a quiet read, suited for a lazy afternoon or simply for a day when your mind seeks to enjoy the muted uniqueness of the ordinary lives of other people.

I give this book five out of five wine bottles.

        

“Notes On A Scandal” by Zoë Heller.

I’ve wanted to read this book and see the film based on it for a few years now, but I always just kept putting it off. However, when the scandal concerning Asia Argento and her affair with the young boy came to light, I thought that this would now be the perfect time to delve into the mind and actions of someone who could do such a thing.

The story is told by Barbara, a retired school teacher, in the form of a diary as she recounts the events that led up to the scandal exposed at the beginning of the book whereby her friend Sheba, a fellow teacher, had an affair with a 15 year-old boy. Although friend is perhaps a misleading term, since the relationship between the two is much more complicated, verging on an obsession on Barbara’s part. The most interesting part of this book, and what made it even more disturbing that I expected, was precisely the fact that the affair and this bizarre relationship between Sheba and Barbara became almost intermingled, as Barbara was the only person that Sheba confided in. The choice to approach the topic from this angle already made me like the book.

Sheba’s character is presented as flighty, as she is a person who is not really aware of the privileges she has and how lucky she is in many aspects of her life, and as such lives in a world of her own. She’s younger than most of the teacher’s at the school and unlike the rest of them, doesn’t really have to work out of necessity as she is from a rich family. Having married one of her college professor’s, she perhaps feels like her rebellious youth was cut short and as such when the opportunity presents itself, she dives straight into the adventure, without much thought for the consequences. The most fascinating aspect is her inability to understand the different perceptions that she and Steven, the boy, have of their relationship. For her it is love, while it is clear to the reader, even without Barbara’s cynical commentary, that the boy sees it as a sexual adventure and nothing more. I think that this really hits the nail on the head as to why such relationships can never work, beyond the ethical question regarding the abuse of a position of authority, as it is simply a case of the two people being at very different stages of maturity and as such having different expectations in mind.

The only thing lacking from this book was Steven’s point of view. Then again, as mentioned, it was relatively easy to imagine. However, if Heller would have written about his inner conflict or on the other hand how blasé he felt about the whole thing, it would have somehow made the book more complete. And yet, I think this book reinforced the message that these affairs should not happen, because Heller excelled at creating both a sense of unease and disgust about the situation, despite the fact that the fact that the story was told by an outsider. Perhaps the reason why Steven’s narrative, or rather lack thereof, didn’t ruin the book was because Heller managed to convey the gravity of the consequences by focusing on Sheba’s family. The fact that they shunned her, the fact that they were implicated in the affair because of being associated with her, just goes to show how such selfish actions can affect those around you.

Finally, moving on to Barbara – I was captivated by her character. Her need to have a friend, which developed into a full blown obsession to possess Sheba entirely, to have her all to herself, added to an already mesmerising story. I think that a lot of people might be put off by Barbara’s character, but if you’ve ever been lonely in your life, then unfortunately you might find her story all too relatable. As such I think that Heller captured those feelings perfectly, giving a somewhat unique insight into the mind of a someone who only has one person in their life who can guarantee a sense of adventure and companionship.

Overall, I would recommend this book, because it could be both a fascinating read while travelling when one is looking for something with a certain level of suspense, while at the same time it can also be an interesting read when it comes to certain aspects of human psychology. And I do have to add that the film was excellent as the casting of Judi Dench as Barbara and Cate Blanchett as Sheba was absolutely impeccable, the former excelling in this role more than words can even describe.

I give this book four out of five wine bottles.