5 starsš I hesitated reading this bc Iād felt that these books tend to talk of the same banal things: how love doesnāt make you whole, how friendships are equally important etc, through stories where the writer would ironicallyā¦ obsess over romantic love & then learn from it all in the end. Iād expected myself to feel bitter reading this, wondering what it could possibly offer me that I donāt already know. HOWEVR
Yes all the cliches are there, but it didnāt feel trite or full of platitudes. Alderton made the book feel like a friend, a cozy warm thing, recounting her experiences in early adulthood: MSN, her first dates, her changing ideas of love, being mostly inebriated during uni, her first heartbreak, flat-sharing in london, her eating habits, sharing wisdom sheās learnt from these experiences. I found her uni stories particularly relatable, times when she felt like she owned London, her youth and her freedom. I felt exactly like this when I lived there, like I had to be having the most fun, every time, all the time.
With Alderton being 30 & me being in my mid-20s most of the things sheās written I relate to painfully. For eg I love how like Alderton in her twenties, I am also obsessive, painfully nostalgic, and envision love to be endlessly passionate and all-consuming. Alderton writes about the difference between intimacy and intensity through a relationship with a man she deeply connected with in a shockingly short amount of time that eventually ended as abruptly as it began.
She talks of the scariness of this transitionary time from your early adulthood to actual adulthood, how scary it is to no longer be the generation that decides what is relevant, to wonder what the point of it all is - āIs this it? TCR & ordering shit off Amazon?ā
Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.75
So many rave reviews and on bestselling bookshelves everywhere I thought it was going to be spectacular and literary, spewing wisdom, but really it felt like a childās read.
The great part about it is the characters and the way Garmus tells the story. The characters are very loveable, at times funny. I especially loved Six-Thirty (the dog)ās internal monologues. The writing has no metaphors, no subtlety, just straightforward, direct prose that allows you to devour the book in a couple sittings. I usually have to reread sentences when I read, but hardly did it at all for this one. Most of the prose was back and forth conversation so it feels like reading a movie script. Itās like reading at an easy level, thereās nothing in it really that requires critical thinking, so this oneās for you if you want to relax your brain.
The plot thoughā¦ cliche after cliche. Itās the 1950s and the protagonist, Elizabeth Zott, is a chemist who struggles to be taken seriously by anyone because people believed women belonged at home. Most of what Zott stands for (writerās moral voice) is awesome - feminism, the importance of choice and the role of the housewife, education and learning etc, but Garmus conveyed these in a way that came off so so SO cheesy. I get that itās the 1950s but the good guys and the bad guys were so black and white that it felt like I was reading a childrenās book.
And THEN thereās the trauma dumpingā¦ topics of rape, sexual harassment, suicide, abuse, littered in between the clichesš„“š„“
I wanted to love this book. I do like the story, itās fun and cute, but the writing just didnāt hit the mark for meā¦ I can see older women enjoying this one though. Maybe Iām just not the target audienceš¤·š»āāļø
My first read of the year was a non-fiction one, who is sheš«£ A memoir about domestic abuse in a queer relationship, examining the cultural representations of non-physical abuse and its reality. In addition to the topic of abuse, Machado explores the intersectionality between the queer community and its history of abuse, the lack of accurate archives and accounts (āarchival silenceā) due to homophobia and the ability to record history lying in the hands of the powerful/oppressor. Even though it may be harmful to ārecord/archiveā the negative parts of humanity that exist also in queer relationships, Machado claims it is essential, to show that there is a shared humanity. One page really stood out to me āFirst, forget I am a lesbian. And second, never forget I am a lesbian.ā It is to say that our relationships are not unlike your heterosexual relationships, with its ugliness and sorrowsā¦ but ours are also different because we have struggles you never have to face.
Machado also unpacks stereotypes on queer/lesbian relationships and their impact - for example how people view them as utopian, harmless, and thus unlikely to be abusive; how others impose gender roles āwho is the man in the relationship?ā and assume the more masculine person to fit the mold of āabuserā and more feminine person the āvictimā.
Each chapter is short and terse, though not lacking in intensity, with every page leaving the reader with things to mull over and reflect upon. A very powerful read, challenged me from start to finish. I really recommend this to all!!