_sofiia_'s reviews
98 reviews

well, i've just been swallowing audiobooks this month it seems. it's good, keeps me out of youtube. plus, i've been meaning to read this one for ages, and i'm glad i finally met this frogman...

a story of a lonely housewife who falls into a special relationship with a frogman, that made me a little sad at the end.

i'm not sure how i feel about this book. it's likely just a one-time read for me. but it was an intriguing story, touching on topics like gender roles, the death of marriage with lack of communication, the peculiarities of human relationships and attachment, cheating husbands (my fav ofc), and the definition of a "human being". and, i guess, also how the news exaggerate things, blow them out of proportion. and a little bit on the psychological treatment that consists of mainly sedating the patient.

and there's a lot of coffee drinking. and avocados.

i found it a bit unsettling just how quickly Dorothy and Larry-the-frog-man got into copulating [and so many times, jeez]. it was just a little bit... too abrupt. that's too magical for me, i need a rational, step-by-step explanation of how their attraction emerged. right now, i can only think of "she is a lonely housewife" and "mr frogman is just taking what he likes". and Estelle [Dorothy's friend]... apparently being the one with whom Dorothy's husband had been cheating, and he is also shagging Estella's daughter... i mean, what the heck?? Dorothy really should have turned into a mermaid and swam away with Larry-Aquarius and his strong muscular arms... oh well, but he never came.

one final thing: if Larry-the-frogman was taught language via punishment being at the in between of young and middle age... is he really communicating? is he able to feel the connection, or is his language merely a way to go by without punishment? yes, he is inquisitive about human beings, but i'm really unsure how well does this co-exist with the way in which he learnt language in the first place.
[slowly preparing myself to read the Dumb House and find out all the more about the nature of language and some horrors that might make my sleep even worse than it already is].

***
really, really not sure about this one... maybe gulping down audiobooks is not good for my comprehension.

***
can someone get me a bag of avocados? i'll make the scrambled eggs and we can have a feast and maybe go to the beach after.

 a part of me that often observes the peculiar transmission of other people’s ways of speaking and mannerisms onto my behaviour felt very at home in this book. also made me nostalgic for the times of working in customer service, when you know the workplace in and out, being hyper-tuned-in to subtle changes and proceeding with your job so smoothly, you’re practically ice-skating, with a parcel in one hand, a batch of keys in another, and a request for extra pillows with the room number on repeat in your head. 

a lovely short book about finding joy in predictability and stability in spite of societal expectations for a “normal” successful life. 

Keiko Fukuroku, our protagonist, shares her fondness for the convenience store where she has worked for half her life, 18 years. the store is like a living creature that Fukuroku knows very closely. but to other people, and society in general, she is strange for not having secured a “normal” job that’s appropriate for her age, nor has she got a husband (oh gosh!). and, to everyone’s bafflement, she is not planning to. 

Fukuroku is likely on autistic spectrum: she shares her experiences of taking things too literally, tracing back to her childhood; her “masking” by mirroring the prosody of people around her; and her preference for repetitiveness and predictability of her job at the convenience store. however, there is no explicit mention of neurodiversity in the book, only her family’s concerns over “normality” (e.g., her sister gets so frustrated, she says they have to go to counselling). these concerns stem from complete lack of understanding and, hence, acceptance of the way in which Fukuroku finds joy and happiness in her life, that is, the way that is a stark mismatch with the majority. the story plays around with the idea of conformity: in some ways, Fukuroku’s conformity at work is comforting, in other ways - the required conformity towards life milestones and ideas of success. 

i loved the details that our character observes in other people’s speech, how people contain little bits of those who are closest to them, and the tenderness with which she tends to the convenience store.  

***

this was a wonderful encounter with another Japanese author. i look forward to reading Sayaka Murata’s upcoming book (vanishing world) and see how she tackles the topics of sex, procreation, and another take on the strangeness of society. 

how could i not pick up a book that looks like this, costs £3 (thank you, used-book-sellers, for turning up every sunny day of the month to tempt me), and says "he was a nice boy. it was a nice kiss. but that was all." (!!!)

i savoured this debut novella in its bold expressionist entirety, being left with pleasantly lingering sorrow and hope and wanting more of Irmgard Keun's writing.

this is a story of Gilgi, a 21-year-old woman in Weimar Germany, who is ambitious, disciplined, hard-working, pragmatic, and unshakeable, until... until a man turns up. Martin. Martin is a tumble-weed-of-a-man, lives each day as it comes, spends money like it's air, and is in a constant search for new adventures. and he lays his eye on Gilgi, and Gilgi finds herself mysteriously attracted to that man, and they start living together after Gilgi finds out she's adopted. all of this is told in Keun's hypnotising expressionist style that mixes stream of consciousness with the author's musings and vivid sketches of the surroundings (tick-tick-tick... rrrrrrrrrr) and the lines of popular songs. some passages felt a bit Lispector-y to me with their intense focus on emotional turmoil.

the central theme is a woman's autonomy and independence and the right to have a room of her own. this woman exists in a society that has lost their sense of internal responsibility, for everything is up to the external forces; Keun consistently weaves in the social commentary on the socio-economic issues in Weimar Republic, the abortion laws, and the perception of women by men as inferior creatures. there is the depiction of poverty that leaves you no life, no chance to be "the fittest" to survive in such a climate. and, my "favourite" - the men who yap about politics, oh boy, and they do what? oh boy, they do nothing. and i am so grateful for the little powerful instances where Gilgi shuts these empty politic-talks. am always up for a little catharsis through fiction.

we see Gilgi change: from a determined little girl she molds herself to fit with Martin and his lifestyle. she tries to change the man, but it only hurts his pride and suppresses the way she wants to be. the relationship between the two relies solely on chemistry, the sexual attraction, but nothing more. they are intriguing to each other for being so utterly opposite, but there is no space for finding a pattern that creates compatibility. Gilgi becomes trapped in her role as a lover and a cute little creature with something kindling inside her, something that surely scares Martin, and yet, it doesn't vanish, for Gilgi is too strong to dissipate into a carefree life. and so, she learns that changing a man is not the way, and though she loves him, she needs to go her own way. (as a side note, i was pleasantly surprised that Gilgi's friend, Olga, was not fine with Gilgi's transformation into a lax person, even though she told her to "release her inhibitions". i wish we saw more of their friendship, perhaps the development of a kind of relationship where two different women love and treasure each other for their quirkiness).

at the end,

we see Gilgi at the beginning of her journey to trusting herself more firmly, despite the anxiety and the longing to stay in the frowsty comfort. she gets on the Cologne-Berlin train, casting several looks on an orange that is lying on the tracks - the orange is the symbol for ending her life, a way to leave all that she cannot be behind and not having to face the uncertainty of change and the unknown bearings of her new home. this last page gave me shivers: Gilgi is truly a brave woman, who "when she's twenty-five, will call herself Gisela. but she is not at that point yet" (p.1).

i think, in the years to come (omg, i already miss this character), Gilgi will look back at her early 20's and recall Martin fondly while knowing with her whole being that she made the right choice. i hope she also learns from him - yes, that tumble-weed - that sometimes, life is just simple, like in the quote i put at the top, and you should embrace those times and know when to resurface.
***
a few miscellaneous quote-gems:

and, of course, how can i leave out the little speech for my men who live for blabbering about politics:

***
now i want to read The Artificial Silk Girl.

i've tried reading this five times since i got it in august 2024 to better understand the mind of a dear-to-me person at that time, but the words are tangibly going through my head and i retain nothing but the little wows and ohs. i still don't know what string theory is, what is the Schrödinger's cat thingy, and what the hell are the physicists doing, and you know what? Big Bang Theory is enough for me; that's the closest i am willing to get to physics in the next couple of years. 

picking up this book was in part return to self-help (you gotta help yourself), in part an investigation of how therapeutic tools are communicated to the masses. while i agree that this isn’t a literary masterpiece, and at times it’s repetitive, and, yes people-who-already-know-it-all-(including-me), indeed, someone has told you some/most of this stuff before (your mom), this book is nonetheless a great guide for establishing healthy self-care habits and dipping your toes into the tools of cognitive-behavioural therapy. 

so, i launched my fiction-healing of 2025 with What You are Looking for is in the Library and the Midnight Library (libraries are just curative, heh?). but things got real non-fictionary now. [glances over her shoulder to check at her baby-monster anxiety that’s peacefully napping with a dummy in its mouth]. [sighs]. and i must say, why have i not read this book when it came out? 

you see, 2022, the year this book was published, was a tough year. covid was still a big deal. my undergraduate self was just figuring out how to read an academic paper, how to ensure the chicken is cooked, why is it so much harder to make friends, why do i have to be in the country for my online exam instead of chilling at home, and yada-yada. certainly, the biggest punch was the outbreak of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine by r*ssia; and that’s just not something that you know how to deal with (nor does anyone else, who is supposed to help, really). now, i remember seeing WHNTMTB and dismissing it as “probably some typical self-help fluff”. things got easier to manage over time, because of people and my own experimentation with things that “should help” (and some helped big time indeed). however, i wish that this book was a part of that journey because it would have given me an coherent overview of the things that i can try, plus the compassionate voice to keep me going.

the book is written in Dr Julie Smith’s incredibly reassuring voice (which you get to hear if you listen to the audiobook). it explains the tricks of the mind and paints a realistic picture of how to cope with negative emotions, mood, anxiety, panic, grief, and stress. and sure, some of this stuff i’ve heard from my mom, or youtube, or kind of just figured it out myself, or had a very philosophical conversation with a long-distance friend. however, this doesn’t diminish the value that this book can add to one’s efforts to take good care of own mental health. some chapters contain a “toolkit” section that lists specific strategies to help with managing emotions and thoughts. some are taken directly from CBT and it’s great to see these techniques being made more accessible to some readers in a form of this guide-book. 
***

bottomline: if you would like some practical, reassuring, comforting, and an easy-to-read book on mental health, this is a good start, both as a written copy and as an audiobook. but, if you’re looking for impeccable writing style with philosophical undertones, you might be better off checking out something written by Alain de Botton (his most recent book, The Therapeutic Journey is a good start and is the most chronological in its guidance), or Solitude by Anthony Storr. 

 i am trying to bring out the mischievous side of me and be a little carefree with the books sometimes, picking them just because their name is “sandwich”. alas, but my choices land on the books that end up annoying the tuna out of me and earnestly provoke me to find a portal to that particular fictional universe and dump a pile of sand on those people’s wet swimsuits and then link them with a better couple’s therapist. 

this sandwich looked nicely toasted with plenty of filling, but biting into it, i discovered canned tuna (i hate canned tuna), mayo (i love mayo, but god forbid with tuna), and, for some reason, lettuce (something rescues the situation, at least). 

this is a snapshot of a family’s vacation week in a seaside cottage (i long for summer days, apparently), told from the perspective of our main character. Rachel, or Rocky, is 50-ish, with severe menopausal symptoms (i’ve heard the phrase “hot flash” way more than needed), recurring indignation over other people’s secrecy that alternates with her own anxious secrecy, and, what at first is touching, but then becomes a rather disturbing, an almost perverted obsession over her children’s bodies and her maternal instincts. i like the frankness that the author gave to Rocky, illuminating the topics of abortion rights, miscarriage, menopause and all that comes with it. we get to hear lots of thoughts that Rocky keeps to herself (or not - sometimes the words just slip out of her to other people’s confusion). however, with this character, i found myself annoyed at the repetitiveness of the same half self-pitying, half i’m-such-a-mother repertoire, it made me think “i do not want children, especially if i am gonna be like this” at least 15 times. i would have liked to see even a slight shift in Rocky’s perspective of her life within this week at the cottage. but i got more of mom jokes (yes, there’s a fair contestor to dad jokes now) than character evolution. 

outside of our character’s head, things are no better. every family member seems to have been given minimum one annoying quality. Nick, the husband, is my marriage nightmare; a man without any consideration for emotions, who defines his masculinity in terms of “taking people places/ fixing things/ being the one who keeps the cool head”. and also can’t get his sexual urges under control, like Rocky is there to be primarily “the mother” and his sexual partner. i’d rather live alone for the rest of my life than be with a man who cannot piece together the “i don’t want sex” and “my body is making me feel horrible”. needless to say, i was disappointed when Rocky would return to him and “feel his scent of home”. girl, it’s not a scent of home, it’s called being used to the smell. or maybe not… maybe i don’t understand something. or, actually, no. he did not understand something. and if people wanna say that he was so patient with her, gave her space, etc., erm, sorry, but not enquiring is not the same as giving space, and ignoring does not equal patience. 

as for Rocky’s children (Willa and Jamie, and Jamie’s partner Maya [who is not her child])… they are supposed to be 20-25 years old, but read more like pesky little teenagers. i wonder if maybe that’s a cultural thing, cuz if i spoke to my parents like that, i would be immediately reminded of my place. and i wonder again, where is that fine balance between growing more of an equal friend-adult relationship with your parents and staying their child? is that balance even desirable? anyhoo, something that could be explored in a different book, i guess. 

despite disliking the characters, i did find the book to be funny sometimes, though still not as funny and witty as recently read Heartburn by Nora Ephron. i enjoyed listening to the descriptions of this seaside town, the typical resort place, with its little shops with swimsuits, souvenirs, old bookshops, magazine stalls, seafood, seagulls, sharks (ok, maybe not the sharks), fossils, ice-cream… i usually get a dissonance from reading events in a setting that is seasonally drastically different from where i am, but this time i loved being transported to the summertime, practically hearing the waves hitting the shore and feeling the sand between my toes. for that, i am grateful. 

i think this could hit just the right spot for some people, and may be a good beach read (if you don’t mind shedding a tear or two + see content warnings). the book does justice to relishing family traditions, the atmosphere of a family holiday (one kind of it, not all families are the same), and the puzzlement of seeing your loved ones age.  

***

new interest unlocked: books about complex family dynamics (but please, with better-developed characters) and the first-hand account of menopause. and maybe more seaside vibes! 

***

link to dissertation: couldn’t help but think how Rocky’s mother suspecting Parkinson’s was something the mother wanted to hide - i wish to see more of detailed exploration of sharing diagnoses (n/a so much in this book) within a family and the emotional processing that takes place after such big change. 

this is a snapshot-like story told by a 22-year-old Miloš who works at the train station and is contemplating his burdensome virginity and the purpose of his life after unsuccessful suicide attempt. 

coming into this book, i expected to hear a funny story and some people-watching on the trains. Hrabal certainly adds a dash of humour into this account, but the story is much more than “watching trains”. set in 1945 when the German forces were losing their grip on modern-day Czechia, it illuminates the horrors and losses of war, its ubiquitous consequences (e.g., seen in several animal cruelty snapshots), the rebellious spirit and the unexpected finding of purpose. the book also touches on the topics of sexual liberation as a between-generational clash (tho, in all fairness, what’s up with putting stamps on one’s bottom??), the importance of letting your emotions out (tho, probably shouldn’t shout your anguish into the ventilation tubes like the station master), and the complexities of empathy and pity for enemies.

the writing style may have lost its appeal and coherence through translation, but it still allowed for immersing yourself into Miloš’ view. (in my experience with reading Kundera, his works read better in Ukrainian translation than in English, so maybe there’s something to it…) at times it was hard to follow the narrative, as our protagonist alternates between observing different people, reflecting on the past, and wondering about his pressing concerns (his ejaculatio praecox). nonetheless, i would re-read this and may watch the movie adaptation.

***

favourite little details:

bottom-line: worth a read in one sitting if you are interested in Czechia, WW2, and, oki, a little bit of trains. i might read Hrabal’s other works, like “too loud a solitude”…

***
3.75 but so close to 4… i guess i still wanted more trains.

my third Russell Hoban and i think i’ve been spiked with sth cuz despite all the weirdness and bizarreness and non-making-sense-ness, i could not unglue my poor eyeballs from this book. not until i realised the next page was the ad for his other books (oh my). well, before i am physically, mentally, and spiritually ready for the next one, i need a good gulp of something incredibly normal (or, frankly, maybe not read for a few days…weeks?…) and a therapy session to make sense of what the hell just happened. 

Hoban’s attention to objects, perceptions, and, in his own, often comical, way, people is unmistakable here. here we have some of his favourites: the rosehip tea (but what about potato pancakes?), the lonely man who longs for his “destiny woman” (who has run off with some artist/producer/geologist/parachutist - honestly, anyone), contagious affection for London (especially London Underground), references to artworks, the mess in the room as a separate being (did Hoban write anything on hoarding? pls say yes), and words that don’t exist but should because they make you smile (”novembering” is now a verb in my weather vocab). even when people tell you about seemingly the strangest details of the plot, Hoban’s eccentricity remains pretty much unspoilerable.  once you read a few of his books, these details can seem repetitive, but they also create a mini-universe that welcomes you into its weirdness… and then messes with your brain.

while i still (weeks later) cannot understand what the heck happened, i can say this for sure: Hoban, for me, is one of those writers who break traditions and seize language to create their way of telling a story, of narrating an experience. if you get absorbed in his writing (i’m not saying “get used to” - impossible), you’ll likely keep reading even when a man is talking to the head of Orpheus on the banks of the Thames. it’s addictive, it’s inventive, and it knows no boundaries.
 

perhaps, it is a blessing to not correlate all of the symbols contained in this book.  
***

more thoughts to come.  
***

actively recovering for the celebration of RH’s 100th birthday on 4th feb 2025. 

a long-awaited catalyst for the "phoenix moment" of the year and a portal to my teenage ability to be fully in a book - all against the backdrop of having my life on hold.

i feel renewed. [and un-lobotomised after the talking head of orpheus from russell hoban].  

this was indeed "a celebration of life's possibilities" (The Guardian) threading through the multitude of alternative lives across an absorbing plot. beautiful concept of a library that exists between life and death and is filled with books, or rather portals leading to lives where regrets are undone.

emotionally, this is a tough read and has lots of triggers related to suicide, depression, and, on balance with life's joyous possibilities, the chances of different failures, misfortunes, imperfections, and heartbreaks. however, it reads easily otherwise, which would usually be a deal-breaker for me but not this time. sure, the lessons that the protagonist learns are often clichés, and the writing style is not for a literary connoisseur club. but as a lighter read (not in terms of mood, at least in the first 30% of the book) and as something to read for fun and simple inspiration, the book does its job. it leaves you moved by the resolute beauty and meaning in every life and reassured to let go of your regrets for the paths untaken. non, je ne regrette rien, en effet!

ultimately, the character's journey reminds us about what truly matters in life, no matter the particularities of your existence: love, social connectedness, self-acceptance, and gratitude for this one, true, root life that you've got.