Underwhelming Reads

Let’s get controversial…

I love doing tags, but for the most part, they invite discussion on the books we had the strongest reactions to; the ones we loved, and the ones we loathed. This means there’s a whole load of books that often fall by the wayside, rarely to be talked about; the awkward in-between reads that we had high hopes for, but which left us feeling underwhelmed. So, in the spirit of something a little different, here are some thoughts on a few reads I found decidedly lukewarm, in spite of all the hype. I didn’t hate any of them, not by a long stretch (I think I gave them all 2 or 3 stars). Rather, they are all essentially the definition of ‘meh’. There is, of course, no offence intended to anyone who adores these books – we can’t love ‘em all.

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

If I’m going to be controversial, I might as well start strong, right? This book undoubtedly has its merits, but my major issue with it is the way it is still held up as though it’s the pinnacle of feminist fiction; as though the discussion hasn’t advanced at all in the past 30 years. Firstly, it’s pretty outdated in terms of its lack of intertextuality, with little to no discussion on POC and queer characters. There are many plot threads that go unanswered; scenes that feel tonally jarring (like a single reference to Japanese tourists wandering around this supposedly closed and secretive community that is never mentioned again; and a dry, info-dumpy epilogue that erodes any ambiguity created in the climax); not to mention the obvious shock factor: I didn’t buy the fleeting excuse shoehorned in at the end that they didn’t utilise IVF in the face of a major population crisis because it was ‘irreligious’ – as though married men having sex with other women against their will isn’t? Hmm.

It’s obviously a valuable book that throws up a lot of interesting ideas, and which caused shockwaves upon release. I just wish that publishers and reviewers didn’t constantly fall into the obvious trap of likening it to every and any book with a feminist theme to this day. It earned its place in the feminist canon, but the discussion has to be allowed to move on to new, more nuanced heights.

The Power by Naomi Alderman

The Power had a lot of hype, and won a string of awards, but it just didn’t work for me, sadly. The focus felt skewed, with a lack of nuance or any fresh take on gender discussion. Its appropriation of cultural norms and like-for-like gender reversals to illustrate its obvious points felt far too simplistic, and neither the plot nor the characters grabbed me, beyond the striking initial concept. Having learned that Alderman was mentored and endorsed by Atwood, perhaps I should have been better prepared to not gel with her style.

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

This was billed as the thriller of its time, and to this day, we see nigh on every new crime book described as ‘the successor to Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train’. With so much buzz, I went in expecting a dynamic and original take on the genre. What I found was a surprisingly generic thriller, with twists that felt disappointingly predictable. The lead character’s alcoholism seemed, at first, like a unique and interesting perspective, but soon became a convenient plot device, with Hawkins able to draw out the mystery by having her heroine black out and forget any key information she wanted. Again, it wasn’t bad, I just couldn’t see why it was being elevated above its peers.

Lullaby by Leїla Slimani

Lullaby has such a brilliantly sinister concept, and opens with a powerful gut-punch. From there, I felt it floundered, and failed to capitalise on its amazing potential. We open in the wake of a double murder, where two children have been killed by their nanny. We then go back, presumably to explore the events that could lead to such a desperate and horrific act. However, nothing really happens. None of the events preceding the murder feel convincing enough to explain why she did it, nor to properly examine her psyche. Nor do we go forward in time to explore the anguish of the aftermath. As such, the book essentially lives and dies by a fantastic concept it fails to live up to.

The Widow by Fiona Barton

This was one of those aforementioned crime books, hyped as ‘the next big hit for fans of Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train’. Like a chump, I fell for it again. My trouble with The Widow is that it spells out the obvious outcome that everyone assumes is what happened, and then… that’s exactly what did happen. There are no big twists, no clever reveals. It simply spends 300+ pages confirming everything you, and the characters, suspected right from the start. Harsh as it sounds, I couldn’t help but wonder what the point was.

—

There we have it; some underwhelming reads. I’d be intrigued to hear what books you expected to love but found lukewarm.

Advertisements

This is My Genre | Book Tag

I saw this tag on Jenna @ Bookmark Your Thoughts’ blog, and I couldn’t resist. Let’s get started!

• What is your favourite genre?

I love all things gothic.

• Who is your favourite author from that genre?

The masters of the genre, as far as I’ve explored it thus far, are Daphne du Maurier and Shirley Jackson.

• What is it about the genre that keeps pulling you back?

I love books that are dark, atmospheric, lyrical, and engrossing; woven together by a damn good story, with intrigue and well-developed characters. That sounds like I’m asking for a lot, but when gothic fiction is done well, it epitomises all of these qualities. I also love its versatility, in that gothic fiction can incorporate elements of some of my other favourite genres, such as literary fiction, family sagas, and horror.

• What is the book that started your love for that genre?

The Turn of the Screw

Possibly The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. It’s an unsettling ghost story that plays brilliantly with the power of the unknown. It’s got many hallmarks of the genre, including a spooky manor setting, an unreliable narrator, an oppressive atmosphere, and a heavy dose of ambiguity – which means we’re never sure how much of what’s going on is down to the supernatural, or the possible madness of our heroine.

• If you had to recommend at least one book from your favourite genre to a non-reader/someone looking to start reading that genre, what book would you choose and why?

I guess I’d just recommend some of my personal favourites. Since they’re the ones that made me love the genre as much as I do, they’d hopefully do the same for others. They include: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier; Frankenstein by Mary Shelley; We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson; The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell; and The Book Collector by Alice Thompson.

Some of my favourite gothic reads.

• Why do you read?

For me, reading is all about escapism, the art of storytelling, and the joy of letting your imagination take over. I suppose that’s part of why I love gothic fiction so much; the best examples of the genre know exactly how much to give us, and how much to hold back, leaving the real horror to linger in our minds long after the final page.

***

Since I wasn’t tagged myself, I’ll leave this open to anyone who’d like to take part. Pingback to me if you do it so I can check out your answers!

July Wrap Up

The books I read in July

July has been a very enjoyable month overall. Not only did I have a lovely holiday in Copenhagen, but I managed to read 10 books, bringing my total for the year so far up to 72. Without further ado, here are some thoughts on each of them.

The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O’Farrell

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is such a cleverly constructed novel that is at once an intriguing page-turner and a nuanced character study. The use of structure and perspective is very effective in creating the idea of different characters’ viewpoints coming together to create the story of one family. O’Farrell’s prose flows very well, and she deftly weaves together different timelines to form a single coherent story about social taboos and suppressed desires; about not following your heart for fear of stigma, and the notion of stolen lives; both literally and figuratively speaking. The book is, in essence, a vindication of women who were maltreated for no other reason than they were born in the wrong era.

My Purple Scented Novel by Ian McEwan

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Short, but oh, so clever. To create such a vivid sense of the kind of person our narrator is in such a short space of time, whilst also unspooling the perfect case of literary crime, is no mean feat. But it is achieved here with style. It’s hard to be completely blown away by a quiet, standalone short story, but I did thoroughly enjoy this little tale of deception. Had it been nestled within a collection of stories that had a similar tone and impact, I’d be rating it higher, for sure. It certainly fuelled my desire to pick up more McEwan.

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I’ve wanted to try Wyndham’s work for ages, and am relieved to say that I loved this. I found the setting vivid and transporting, and the story itself utterly engrossing. It is, at its heart, a story of survival, with a wonderful emphasis on the fragility of mankind’s ‘rule’ over nature, and our over reliance on the structure and convenience of modern living. The prose was very readable, with flashes of evocative beauty that really clicked for me, and I enjoyed its musings on gender roles and moral dilemmas. It was also very interesting to see how much it has directly influenced contemporary apocalyptic stories, with noticeable parallels with the likes of Bird Box, 28 Days Later, and The Walking Dead.

Useless Magic by Florence Welch

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I’ve long said that Welch (of Florence + the Machine fame) is a great writer, and so it’s nice to see her lyrics and poetry packaged in such a gorgeous way, alongside her original sketches and jottings; as well as artwork and photographs that have inspired her work. The design of the book itself is phenomenal; it really is a visual feast that is immensely aesthetically pleasing.

Daydream and Drunkenness of a Young Lady by Clarice Lispector

[ ⭐ ] Whether it was a poor translation or simply a case of not gelling with Lispector’s narrative voice, I found these stories wildly incoherent, and sadly took absolutely nothing from them. It’s a shame, but we can’t like ‘em all.

99 Red Balloons by Elisabeth Carpenter

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] I found this very lacklustre, sadly. The character dynamic felt over complicated, and it was very melodramatic, with virtually every chapter trying to end on a twist or revelation of some kind. I saw the crucial big reveal coming, and it happened with so much of the book still to go that I was left anticipating a follow-up shock that never came. The dialogue was also very cheesy (one of my pet peeves is when characters regularly state that they’re speaking in clichés. It’s like the author recognised a flaw in their own writing, and just pointed it out rather than try to fix it. That happened quite a bit here.) In fairness though, it was a swift moving, easy read with a decent enough amount of intrigue; ideal for passing the time during the flights to and from my holiday.

The Stepford Wives by Ira Levin

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] The first half of this great little novel is an almost humorous satire, whilst the second half takes a more sinister turn, building tension in that brilliantly subtle and unnerving way that Levin does so well. He gives us enough to satisfy, whilst leaving the true horror to our imagination, which is really effective. As with his other heroines, Joanna is great; smart, proactive, believable, and instantly likable. I love that the book is both a creepy read from a low sci-fi/horror perspective, whilst also being a commentary on the social pressure of female ‘perfection’, and a scathing criticism of man’s resistance to the growing independence of women.

The Lightkeepers by Abby Geni

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is my book of the year so far. We follow a nature photographer who secures a residency on a small cluster of remote, untouched islands, where the only other inhabitants are a group of scientists studying the indigenous animal species. Geni’s prose is utterly breath-taking, and she captures the raw beauty, daunting power, and savage menace of the natural world like no other I’ve encountered. When violence disrupts the group dynamic, the story becomes a fantastic meditation on the nature of storytelling as a means of coping with trauma. Rich, complex, and beautifully handled, I was completely swept away by it.

Celtic Tales by Kate Forrester

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is a collection of fairy tales from Scotland, Ireland, Brittany, and Wales. For me, it was a real mixed bag of stories I recognised from my childhood, and stories that were new to me; stories I loved, and stories I didn’t love so much. But all-in-all, it’s a charming, beautifully put-together book, complete with stunning illustrations.

This is Going to Hurt by Adam Kay

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is an eye-opening, first-hand account of what it’s really like to be a doctor in the NHS. It’s brutally honest, and Kay uses a lot of sarcasm and black humour to process the daily hardships he and his colleagues were put through. It shines a light on the criminal underfunding, terrible mismanagement, and systematic political dismantling that are making it so hard for the frontline staff to do their job, but also on the sheer determination and unflinching passion with which they continue to keep us all safe regardless. As the NHS limps into its 70^th year, it’s a diagnosis of much that is currently wrong with it, and a timely reminder of precisely why it’s so worth saving.

—

Here’s to some more great books next month. My stand out reads this time round were easily The Lightkeepers and The Day of the Triffids; what was your favourite read in July?

Recent Publications

The very aesthetically pleasing Ellipsis Zine, feat. my little story!

I don’t post work-related updates on here all that often, but for those not in the know, I’m a writer by trade. I work freelance, producing content on all sorts of topics for blogs, websites and zines (don’t hesitate to get in touch with any enquiries), whilst crafting my own creative pieces on the side – fiction, poetry, essays, and suchlike.

I happened to have a couple of things published in fairly quick succession recently, so thought I may as well share them here.

Firstly, I had a short story published by the wonderful Ellipsis Zine. Inspired by Rapunzel, it can be found in their latest release, which is available both in print and digital formats here.

Secondly, I wrote a fun little piece of creative non-fiction about Mary Shelley and literary prophecies. It was published in the fifth issue of Cauldron Anthology, which can be read online – for free!

That’s it for now. Hopefully there will be more to share soon. Many thanks, and happy reading.

How I Choose My Books Tag

I was kindly tagged by Rachel to do the How I Choose My Books tag. It looks like fun, so let’s just jump right in. Oh, and if you aren’t already following Rachel’s blog, I advise you to remedy that.

1. Find a book on your shelves with a blue pink cover. What made you pick up the book in the first place?

A Kiss Before Dying

I read Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin last year and loved it! I wanted to pick up another of his novels, and this was the one I went for. I loved it too, and have since read another of his books – The Stepford Wives – which was also very good. He’s definitely up there amongst my favourites now.

2. Think of a book you didn’t expect to enjoy but did. Why did you read it in the first place?

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

I doubt I’d pick something up that I expected not to like at all, but I was very pleasantly surprised by how much I liked A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I studied a few Shakespeare plays throughout my time in education, of course, but in that environment, much of the joy can be sucked out of his work through months of ardent over-analysis. This was the first time I’d picked up one of his plays purely for pleasure, and I thought it was playful, lyrical, and enchanting.

3. Stand in front of your bookshelf with your eyes closed and pick up a book at random. How did you discover this book?

The Growing Season

I picked The Growing Season by Helen Sedgwick. The honest truth is that I can’t remember how I first discovered it, but I wanted to pick it up because I loved the sound of its concept and themes (it explores scientific morality and gender roles, via the idea of artificial wombs, which eliminate the natural risks of pregnancy, and grant male, queer, single, and infertile people with equal opportunities to carry a child). I was also grabbed by its gorgeous cover. It was a very thought-provoking read.

4. Pick a book that someone personally recommended to you. What did you think of it?

The Snow Child

My brother’s fiancé lent me her copy of The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey due to my love of fairy tale influences, and immersive, atmospheric settings. Whilst I didn’t love the book, it was very charming and I did certainly enjoy it. Plus, those elements were indeed its greatest strengths.

5. Pick a book you discovered through book blogs. Did it live up to the hype?

Binti

I don’t read a huge amount of space sci-fi, but Binti by Nnedi Okorafor was getting so much buzz that I had to give it a go. Thankfully, for me, this was one that did live up to the hype, and I’m looking forward to continuing with the series, which I hope will delve a little deeper into the interesting themes and ideas the first book touched on.

6. Find a book on your shelves with a one-word title. What drew you to this book?

Lullaby

Lullaby by Leїla Slimani was the first one I found. I was drawn to this book by its deliciously morbid and fascinating blurb, and because it too was getting a lot of buzz online a while back. I found this one sadly underwhelming, however.

7. What book did you discover through a film/TV adaptation?

Annihilation

I was already vaguely aware of the book’s existence, but I picked up Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer purely because I wanted to see the film adaptation, and always try wherever possible to read the book before I see the film. There are parts of the book that I loved, and parts I found frustrating, meaning it became a rare example of actually liking the film version more, interestingly.

8. Think of your all-time favourite books. When did you read these and why did you pick them up in the first place?

Obvious disclaimer: choosing favourite books is stressful, so I just went with the first few that came to mind.

Rebecca, Frankenstein & Harry Potter – what a dinner party that would be, huh?

I read Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier early last year and it became an instant favourite as it’s the epitome of everything I love; gothic, immersive, lyrical, dark, and compelling. I picked it up simply because I’d heard lots of good things from people whose taste is often aligned with my own.

I first read Frankenstein by Mary Shelley when I was about 15. I could appreciate that it was good Literature™, which is probably why I had wanted to try it, but most of it went way over my head. I had a strong urge to finally reread it last year, convinced I would now be able to appreciate it on a whole new level, and boy did I.

The Harry Potter series is a no-brainer. I was part of the perfect generation to grow up with the books, and I read them because, well, who wasn’t reading them? They’re now the epitome of childhood magic, nostalgia, and escapism for me – and many others, of course.

—

I’ve lost track of who has and hasn’t been tagged yet, so I’m going to be lazy and leave it open to anyone who would like to take part. Pingback to me if you do it so I can see your answers!  🙂

Copenhagen

Hello, all! I’m back from my trip to Copenhagen, having had a wonderful time. It’s an absolutely beautiful city with a fantastically warm and friendly atmosphere. We also really lucked out with the weather, which was amazing. I highly recommend a visit here to anyone who may be planning a holiday of their own, and thought I’d share a few snaps of my favourite sights to hopefully give you a taste of what the Danish capital has to offer.

Nyhavn; one of the most vibrant, picturesque parts of town.

A fountain depicting the Norse goddess, Gefjon, and the neighbouring St. Alban’s Church.

Climbing Rundetaarn (The Round Tower), and a view over the city from the top.

Rosenborg Castle and grounds (left); and the Botanical Gardens (right).

Inside The Royal Reception Rooms at Christiansborg Palace.

Some more shots of the grandeur at Christiansborg Palace.

A few of my favourite pieces from a sand sculpture exhibition. Each piece depicts an endangered species.

Pictures don’t do justice to the scale of the sculptures, or the level of detail that went in to creating them.

Views enjoyed from a boat tour of the canal.

Tivoli; a vast entertainment area in the heart of the city that includes gardens, live performers, an amusement park, and lots of bars & restaurants.

Tivoli is a charming and bustling place that’s well worth a visit.

Perhaps Copenhagen’s most famous resident: The Little Mermaid; accompanied by a cute family of swans that were swimming by her when we visited.

—

Have you been to Copenhagen? What were your favourite sights?

Back Soon!

I just wanted to give a quick heads up in case I’m a bit quiet on here for the next little while. Tomorrow, I’ll be leaving for a holiday in Copenhagen with one of my best friends, which I’m very much looking forward to. I’ll try and keep up to date with posts whilst I’m away, but will otherwise catch up once I’m back.

Hope you all have a great week!