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callme_gchord's review against another edition
4.0
A beautiful story about the messiness that life can sometimes be and the struggle of wanting to create; it took me a bit to get into the book, but once I was in, I couldn't put it down.
foster735's review against another edition
5.0
Can't decide between four and five stars but there were passages that I re-read several times because they were so well done. Will not ruin it. Just read it.
moosegurl2's review against another edition
5.0
"It's a particular kind of pleasure, of intimacy, loving a book with someone."
"I walk up the Larz Anderson Bridge, thinking of Faulkner and Quentin Compson, remembering Quentin as I would an old love, with a swollen heart, Quentin who buckled under the weight of Southern sins, who cracked the crystal on the corner of the dresser and twisted the hands off his grandfather's watch his last morning and, later in the afternoon, cleaned his hat with a brush before he left his Harvard dorm room to kill himself.
Halfway across the river I hoist myself on the wide parapet, swing my legs over the edge, and look down in the water for Quentin's body. How does a man in Mississippi in the 1920s create a character who feels more alive to a waitress in 1997, remembered with more tenderness, than most of the boys she's ever known? How do you create a character like that?"
"I squat there and think about how you get trained early on as a woman to perceive how others are perceiving you, at the great expense of what you yourself are feeling about them."
" 'You're a gambler. You gambled. You bet the farm.'
'On this novel? That was a bad bet. I can't even finish it.'
'Not on the novel. Your success or failure is not based on what happens with that pile of papers. On yourself. On your fantasies. So what do you want now, at age thirty-one?' "
"This is not nothing."
"I walk up the Larz Anderson Bridge, thinking of Faulkner and Quentin Compson, remembering Quentin as I would an old love, with a swollen heart, Quentin who buckled under the weight of Southern sins, who cracked the crystal on the corner of the dresser and twisted the hands off his grandfather's watch his last morning and, later in the afternoon, cleaned his hat with a brush before he left his Harvard dorm room to kill himself.
Halfway across the river I hoist myself on the wide parapet, swing my legs over the edge, and look down in the water for Quentin's body. How does a man in Mississippi in the 1920s create a character who feels more alive to a waitress in 1997, remembered with more tenderness, than most of the boys she's ever known? How do you create a character like that?"
"I squat there and think about how you get trained early on as a woman to perceive how others are perceiving you, at the great expense of what you yourself are feeling about them."
" 'You're a gambler. You gambled. You bet the farm.'
'On this novel? That was a bad bet. I can't even finish it.'
'Not on the novel. Your success or failure is not based on what happens with that pile of papers. On yourself. On your fantasies. So what do you want now, at age thirty-one?' "
"This is not nothing."
lizadoolittle's review against another edition
4.0
Wow. I honestly didn’t know what to expect from this book but I really fell in love with it. Definitely recommend!
mayacherins's review against another edition
5.0
I loved this book so much. Lily King is an amazing writer and this storytelling was beyond
song: glue myself shut by noah kahan
song: glue myself shut by noah kahan
moosegurl's review against another edition
5.0
"It's a particular kind of pleasure, of intimacy, loving a book with someone."
"I walk up the Larz Anderson Bridge, thinking of Faulkner and Quentin Compson, remembering Quentin as I would an old love, with a swollen heart, Quentin who buckled under the weight of Southern sins, who cracked the crystal on the corner of the dresser and twisted the hands off his grandfather's watch his last morning and, later in the afternoon, cleaned his hat with a brush before he left his Harvard dorm room to kill himself.
Halfway across the river I hoist myself on the wide parapet, swing my legs over the edge, and look down in the water for Quentin's body. How does a man in Mississippi in the 1920s create a character who feels more alive to a waitress in 1997, remembered with more tenderness, than most of the boys she's ever known? How do you create a character like that?"
"I squat there and think about how you get trained early on as a woman to perceive how others are perceiving you, at the great expense of what you yourself are feeling about them."
" 'You're a gambler. You gambled. You bet the farm.'
'On this novel? That was a bad bet. I can't even finish it.'
'Not on the novel. Your success or failure is not based on what happens with that pile of papers. On yourself. On your fantasies. So what do you want now, at age thirty-one?' "
"This is not nothing."
"I walk up the Larz Anderson Bridge, thinking of Faulkner and Quentin Compson, remembering Quentin as I would an old love, with a swollen heart, Quentin who buckled under the weight of Southern sins, who cracked the crystal on the corner of the dresser and twisted the hands off his grandfather's watch his last morning and, later in the afternoon, cleaned his hat with a brush before he left his Harvard dorm room to kill himself.
Halfway across the river I hoist myself on the wide parapet, swing my legs over the edge, and look down in the water for Quentin's body. How does a man in Mississippi in the 1920s create a character who feels more alive to a waitress in 1997, remembered with more tenderness, than most of the boys she's ever known? How do you create a character like that?"
"I squat there and think about how you get trained early on as a woman to perceive how others are perceiving you, at the great expense of what you yourself are feeling about them."
" 'You're a gambler. You gambled. You bet the farm.'
'On this novel? That was a bad bet. I can't even finish it.'
'Not on the novel. Your success or failure is not based on what happens with that pile of papers. On yourself. On your fantasies. So what do you want now, at age thirty-one?' "
"This is not nothing."
ashlynamsden's review against another edition
4.0
Really amazing accessible lit fic. The plot and arc is so ambiguous which I really enjoy but this book causes such a wide range of emotions. I think different people could get completely different things out of this book.
hennie's review against another edition
writers & lovers was much more serious than i thought when i went into it - it's mismarketed as "romance" if you ask me. the dominant themes include grief after the death of her mother, debt and poverty, housing and health insecurity, misogyny, and anxiety.
the book joins the ranks of a bunch of books about young (middle-class white) women who are unhappy with their lives, and struggle with romantic connections and their mental health. in contrast to many books of that category i read, casey's situation seems to be less self-inflicted and she shows real effort in changing it.
the author handles tough topics like the ones i listed above with care
the longer i think about it, the more i like it.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Misogyny and Panic attacks/disorders
Moderate: Pedophilia and Death of parent
Minor: Cancer, Homophobia, and Sexual harassment
kayemllr's review against another edition
5.0
4.5 stars! i’m always wary of books about writers but this felt very raw and tender, not overindulgent.