ps_stillreading's reviews
204 reviews

 This was not an easy read, despite how fast I finished it. The whole time I was reading, my heart ached for Adelaide. I saw a version of myself in her (unfotrunately), and I know many others can relate. We have been Adelaide at some point, or we’ve had close friends who experienced this particular brand of heartbreak: being the girl with so much love to give, falling for a man who continually falls short of giving her the love she deserves.

Adelaide is such a giver, her generous heart shines throughout the book. She loves her family and her friends so fiercely. And when she opens her heart to Rory it’s incredibly frustrating to see how he doesn’t feel the same way about her. What makes it even sadder is that this is the first time Adelaide has considered pursuing a serious relationship after a traumatic event in her teenage years (plus a few years of engaging in strictly casual sex with different men as a response to that trauma). Adelaide believes she has found her Disney prince in Rory. But she was sorely mistaken.

As a reader, it was painful to watch Adelaide do everything she can to make Rory fall in love with her. And while you can see the red flags from a mile away, when Rory does choose to shine his loving light on Adelaide, their connection feels magical and all the shitty things become worthwhile (or at least very easy to ignore).

*Sigh*
Baby girl, no. Just. No.

This is a story about a toxic situationship-turned-vague-relationship. This is about falling in love. About doing everything right and trying to make it work. About how sometimes you don’t feel like you are enough (oh but you are, you are). About letting go, about finally believing you deserve better.

And this is also a story about friendship. Adelaide has such a loving and supportive friend group in Maddison, Celeste, and Eloise. Navigating life when you’re in your mid-twenties can be complicated, but with solid friendships and a judgment-free support system, everything becomes a lot more bearable. And I am truly so happy that Adelaide has her friends.

Now, on to some things I had a bit of an issue with
I felt like Adelaide’s teenage trauma could have been explored more. It obviously had such an effect on her, but it was rarely brought up. Also I’m surprised Adelaide doesn’t have a therapist early on, considering her family has a history of mental health problems. But then again, if she had a therapist from the get-go, this would have been a very different book. I also wished we had more time with Adelaide in her healing phase because only get this in the last few chapters and epilogue. I wanted to see her heal and shine and thrive!

Thank you to Aria & Aries and NetGalley for the ARC.
Adelaide by Genevieve Wheeler will be out in the UK on November 7. 

 As readers, I think we all appreciate the big “Aha!” moment in books, the moment of recognition, when all the threads come together, when all the pieces fall to place, the big reveal that makes us see the whole picture clear as day. These recognition scenes in fictional narratives are called anagnorisis, defined by Aristotle as “a movement from ignorance to knowledge,” expounded by Isabella Hammad here as “the moment when the truth of the matter dawns on a character, that moment toward which a plot usually barrels, and around which a story’s mystery resolves.” 

Hammad states that as a writer, she is particularly drawn to these scenes, exploring them in her works. But in this essay, which was originally from her lecture for the Edward W. Said Memorial Lecture, she brings this concept of anagnorisis beyond fictional narrative and connects it to the Palestinian cause.

Recognition is the very core of anagnorisis, but in many ways, Hammad tells us this is also the core of the Palestinian cause. Recognition. That Palestinians deserve recognition as human beings, not “human animals” or “collateral damage.” To be recognized as a state, as a people who deserve to live freely and thrive in their homeland. 

Many of us now have arrived at this place of recognition, especially with all the images and stories coming out of Gaza. But Hammad writes, “It’s one thing to see shifts on an individual level, but quite another to see them on an institutional or governmental one. To induce a person’s change of heart is different from challenging the tremendous force of collective denial.” There is a need to act, a need to move beyond simple recognition. 

Hammad delivered this lecture nine days before October 7, 2023. This book includes an afterword she wrote in January 2024. In it, she writes, “It is simultaneously true that the Nakba of 1948 never really ended, and that we are currently watching it being repeated…I wonder what reality you now live in. From the point in time at which you read this, what do you say of the moment I am in? How large is the gulf between us?”

How do we answer?

This short book was deeply moving, and I encourage everyone to read this. Many, many thanks to Grove Atlantic and NetGalley for this e-ARC. Recognizing the Stranger by Isabella Hammad will be out on September 24, 2024

 

In her foreword for this edition of But for the Lovers, Gina Apostol writes that this book “...was about words—the play with words, the chutzpah with words, the sheer romance with words,” and now that I’ve finally finished reading But for the Lovers, I understand what she meant. 

Wilfrido Nolledo has a way with words, of that there is no doubt. In But for the Lovers, Nolledo takes you on a journey to Japanese-occupied Manila. We mainly follow Hiladgo de Anuncio, a semi-retired Spanish vaudevillian, Molave Amoran, a thief and his roommate, and a young girl whose past is unknown. But Nolledo doesn’t make it easy for us. Aside from these three, the book features many more characters, each one with pasts, stories, and motivations of their own. And the story is never really presented in a straightforward way either. Nolledo plays around with words, pushing us along a meandering path, showing us all these sights in rich detail, but I find that I’m never completely sure if any of it is real, if they are in the past or in the present.

You have an old man’s fevered ramblings, his nostalgia of Spanish grandeur and elegance, and how he is dying along with it. You have a revolutionary’s preaching, heard by everyone but seemingly directed at one person in particular. You have a landlady housing misfits, and hungry for payment in whatever form. A thief that provides. A Japanese Major, cruel and kind, violent and generous. And the girl. The mysterious girl that everyone wants but no one can figure out. We follow these characters in the final days of the Japanese occupation, leading up to the Battle of Manila and the arrival of the Americans, our so-called “liberators”.

Nolledo also has a way with names, a tongue-in-cheek way to describe the characters, but also as a way of making them an archetype or a composite character, although they do still stand on their own. It’s a delicate balance really, one that is artfully achieved. Hidalgo de Anuncio, hidalgo or gentleman, the Spaniard longing for the glory days of Spanish Manila. Molave Amoran, named after a tree that is a symbol of strength and resilience, qualities he must possess in his role of thief/provider of food and protector to the girl. Zerrado Susi (sarado: closed, susi: key), a locksmith who is locked out of his wife’s heart (and body). And the girl, Alma, soul. There might have been more that I missed, I don’t think I am clever enough (yet) to find all the (other) Easter eggs in this book.

This reading experience felt so different compared to all others I have had before. This book. This author. The writing is beautiful. Strange. Vivid. Playful. Serious. Tongue-in-cheek. Dense. Decadent. Singular. I enjoyed But for the Lovers, despite finding it difficult and confusing at times (most of the time?) Continuous discovery is the name of the game. I would read one long seemingly convoluted passage, only to realize its full significance later in the chapter or in the next one. Or maybe I remain confused, but I power through anyway.

This book will demand your undivided attention, and make you work hard to fully grasp what it’s trying to say. And if you’re up for that kind of commitment, then give this book a go. 

Scaffolding tells the story of two women separated by time, but living parallel lives in the same Paris apartment decades apart. We follow Anna, a psychoanalyst in 2019, and Florence, a psychoanalyst-in-training in 1972. 

Character-focused books are something that I always enjoy, and from the first chapter, I knew that Scaffolding would become one of my favorites. This is my first introduction to Lauren Elkin’s writing, and I am a new fan. 

Anna is such a compelling character to read. There is so much going on with her, but also there is a lot that she is avoiding. So much of the book is an exploration of relationships, sexuality, identity, desire, love, and feminism. But through all these lies an undercurrent of grief of the personal (Anna’s recent miscarriage) and the collective kind (protests surrounding the rise of femicides in France).

Lacanian theories of desire also play a significant part in this book. Anna is a psychoanalyst who subscribes to Lacanian views. Florence is also learning from him and attending his seminars. Both women use his theories as a framework for understanding their identities and their self-exploration. I had no knowledge of Lacan before reading Scaffolding. But it was interesting how Elkin added his theories into the book and how much it ties into the story. Did I get a little confused by these Lacanian ideas at times? Yes. But I always welcome those moments as an invitation for further reflection. I love it when a book pushes me to pause and think, a little break from passive consumption. 

One thing I would have wanted was a bit of closure for Florence and Henry’s arc. When I finished the book, I had to go back to the end of their section to remind myself how it concluded. And although it was a banger of an ending (iykyk), I still wish I got to know what happened to them in the aftermath of it all.

Thank you to Farrar, Straus and Giroux and NetGalley for the ARC!

I don’t typically reach for YA but the cover reeled me in. And when I read the blurb, I knew had to read this. 

I read This Fatal Kiss in one sitting because I literally could not put it down. It was so good! Gisela was such a sassy and fun character. She is determined to get what she wants, and she will stop at nothing to see her goal through. Kazik is adorable! My little soft boy! I absolutely loved the banter between these two characters, and banter in a romance is very important to me. And then we have Aleksey. I like him too, and I like what he adds to the mix with Gisela and Kazik. I love it when love triangles are actual love triangles because it involves bisexuals!

The sisterhood between Gisela and the other rusałka was so precious. These girls love each other fiercely, even when they fight and tease each other. Also shout out to Wojciech. I didn’t expect him to be one of my favorite characters, but here we are. He acts like a doting father to his rusałki and I found that so touching.

Alicia Jasinska was able to weave all these characters’ threads together in such a brilliant way. There were hints early on, but the reveal still so satisfying. And the queer representation in this book was so well done as well. I like how the characters are proud of their identities, that it’s not a big deal, that it feels so normal to them, and how their loved ones don’t bat an eye about their queerness. The exploration of Slavic folklore and how religion and the Church have a huge sway in changing the views on traditional beliefs added some layers and tension in the story. Although it wasn’t much of a focus in the story, it did give Kazik motivation for his actions and added depth to his character.

My only gripe was that I couldn’t understand when the story is set. I thought this was set in the past, or in a world that doesn’t have technology as we know it. So reading about trains, buses, radios, and cameras took me out of the story a little. As with some slang that felt to modern/real world instead of unique in-world slang.

Also. That ending??? Please I need the sequel ASAP

I loved reading This Fatal Kiss, and I highly recommend it.
Thank you to Peachtree Teen and NetGalley for giving me an eARC in exchange for an honest review.

 This book is not for the faint of heart. The stories in The Coiled Serpent is for a specific type of reader, or for a reader looking for a specific type of thing. That thing being decay, rot, mold, and a whole lot of feces. But if you can stomach all of that, there are also stories of revenge, absurdity, and irony, with some black humor sprinkled in for a nice touch. 

One thing I have come to enjoy about horror is how it can serve as social commentary by presenting twisted and warped reflections of reality (that isn’t actually that far-fetched if you stop and think about it.) Camilla Grudova does this so well in this short story collection. Because yes, while there is putrefaction, bodily fluids, and grotesque imagery, there are also the very real horrors of life under uncontrolled capitalism, the far-reaching effects of colonialism, class systems, shitty landlords, horrible employers, exploitation of immigrants and POC, and the audacity of men.

While the stories made me queasy and uncomfortable, Grudova’s writing is also filled with unique turns of phrases that I found so interesting and beautiful. My gripe is that some stories felt like they ended too abruptly. Am I weird for wanting more of this? I also loved how the stories never went in the direction I expected them to, but they always felt right by the end. This is my first time reading Grudova’s work, and hopefully, it won’t be the last.

Thank you to The Unnamed Press and NetGalley for the ARC.

Here are my favorite stories from the collection:

Ivor - Set in a boarding school where the second sons (even third, fourth, or fifth sons) are sent to live out their lives. The only bright side is the boy Ivor, who never seems to grow old, who remains beautiful and young, who all the boys love and adore.

Green Hat - Green has a history of being a deadly color. A woman plots against the man who caused the death of her daughter by way of a green hat. Hell hath no fury like a grieving mother.

The Poison Garden - “This garden is a woman’s friend.” Except when a man takes advantage of it for his own selfish agenda.

The Surrogates -  A couple agrees to become surrogates for a hefty sum. Unfortunately, the would-be parents proved to be too controlling, constantly overstepping boundaries. The ending of this story horrified me. 

Madam Flora’s - A girl loses her “monthly flowers” and is prescribed Madam Flora’s tonic, a medicine that tastes suspiciously like bl**d. And when that doesn’t work, she is sent to Madam Flora’s Hotel alongside other girls who have the same predicament.

The Coiled Serpent - Three tech bros find a “spiritual book” that promises enlightenment if they withhold from ej*cul*tion, and these dudebros take it to heart.

 

I saw a Tumblr post that said “hometowns have a thousand little ghosts pushing up through the pavement that trip you up wherever you go” and I thought yes, this is what Calahan Skogman captures so beautifully in his debut novel Blue Graffiti. 

Blue Graffiti is the story of Cash, a young man living in the small town of Johnston, Wisconsin. Cash has lived all his life in this small town where nothing ever seems to change. And this seemingly unremarkable place is witness to all the highs and lows he had ever experienced. Carrying grief and nostalgia with him, Cash is a lonely soul with a lot of love in his heart–love for his friends, for the Midwest, and for the only place he has ever called home. When a beautiful stranger rolls up, he is automatically smitten. It’s as if he has been searching for her without even realizing it. But Cash has to grapple with the ghosts of his past before he can have an honest answer to her question: “What do you want?”

Steeped in quiet moments and the romanticizing of small-town life, I couldn’t help but feel time slow down as I was reading. This book is beautifully written, so vivid, so poetic. The imagery Skogman conjures with his words paints such a beautiful picture of a quiet life in small-town America. I just know that if I had a physical copy of this book, it would be highlighted and annotated to death. 

This book is labeled as romance, but I disagree because the romance isn’t the main thing in this book. It’s more about Cash’s journey. So much of what happens is interior: his thoughts and feelings, his changing perspectives, his relationships with his friends, his relationship with his past. So if you read this don’t expect a sweeping or dramatic love story. Skogman’s take on romance is a lot more subtle, but I find there’s something so sweet in the gentle assurance that develops between Cash and Rose.

The way the book is structured might also be a bit of a challenge for readers. It took me a while to get used to the sometimes choppy transition from one chapter to the next. There is also the shift between the meandering pace when Cash is deep in his reflections versus the quick conversations he has with his friends. But I grew to appreciate these contrasts, especially in moments where Cash shares stories from his childhood which neatly flow back to the present.

Cash reminded me of Dostoyevsky’s narrator in White Nights (another book I loved) because of how they feel so deeply and how they both appreciate the connection they have with the place where they live.  And if you were moved by Dostoyevsky’s little dreamer, then you will also fall i love with how Cash–and by extension Skogman–describes the world.

As a “slow/quiet/pensive book” enthusiast, I loved reading Blue Graffiti. Many thanks to Net Galley and Unnamed Press for the ARC in exchange for my honest review.

Blue Graffiti hits the shelves on August 13.

 

 

Blue Light Hours by Bruna Dantas Lobato is a welcome addition to what I lovingly call quiet books–books that are more introspective, that highlight the mundane and the little things that typically go unnoticed, books where not a lot happens but really, you can feel something happening. Blue Light Hours is that kind of book. 

We have a daughter, who moves from Brazil to attend a liberal arts college in Vermont. Leaving the only home she’s ever known, she now has to navigate this new life, new place, new language, new people. But home is never far from her mind. In the evenings she Skypes with her mother, and through a small screen and spotty internet connection, mother and daughter update each other about their lives. Both grapple with this huge change and how it shifts their identities. A daughter far away and growing into a new person, a mother alone at home facing a daughter-shaped gap that she must now fill with something else.

Although their paths seem to diverge, they never lose the deep connection and love that they have for each other.

Dantas Lobato’s writing here is quite pared down, which might feel cold to some, but to me, goes perfectly with the daughter’s feeling of being a stranger in a new land. She is simultaneously grateful for the opportunity to study abroad, but also feeling homesick and unmoored from everything she has ever known. There are passages in the book where mother and daughter talk about how they now only exist on a screen. It’s a running joke between them that they are hosts to their own show, reporting the news of their lives. And isn’t that both happy and sad?

The novel is full of mundane observations, simple little things that don’t really add up to something in the grand scheme of things, but in loneliness take on a poignant light. Piles of dirty laundry shoved out of view from the computer screen. Watching the snow fall outside the window. Seeing a familiar vase in the background of a Skype call. Giving the mother a dorm tour through the laptop, then asking to be shown the view from outside the window back at home. The blue light from the laptop screen while waiting on a video call late at night.Making a cup to tea to keep you company. These moments reminded me of passages from Beautiful World, Where Are You. Think Sally Rooney writing about the light in Simon’s sad, empty apartment, with his dirty dishes in the sink, which is then contrasted at the end of the chapter when Eileen comes over and the apartment feels brighter. These still life scenes feel like a visual treat, as well as a deceptively simple way to portray that life keeps happening no matter what.

Literary nerds who love the discourse of why the curtains are blue would love the title Blue Light Hours and how blue light appears throughout the novel. I get it, I love it too. Blue light, often considered clinical, cold, or lonely, in this novel becomes the color of warmth, of security, of a deep and enduring connection. Of home.

I was at a cafe when I started reading this book, and in the table next to me was a mother and daughter spending some quality time together. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but there were tears shed, and lots of laughter in the end. This must be the type of relationship the mother and daughter had in the book, before she left study abroad. This was the type of relationship my mother and I had before I too, moved away for college. I knew that this book would be a very emotional read for me because of how much I could relate to the daughter. And my goodness, this book made me feel so seen. 

This is for the daughters of single mothers. For daughters with a complicated/okay/good relationship with their mothers. For daughters who view their mothers as friends. For the daughters who moved away, but still hold home in their hearts.

I’m so excited for this book to come out, and for more people to read it. Mark your calendars for the Blue Light Hours release day on October 15.
Many, many thanks to NetGalley, Grove Atlantic, and Bruna Dantas Lobato for the ARC!