I liked the cover and title, and I started fantasising about the story before reading it (I don’t recommend doing this because it sets up expectations that are clearly going to be disappointed!). That’s why I picked it up.
However, I read it right after DNFing a Murakami book because I wasn’t in the mood for violence, and just a few pages in, I hit a very disturbing rape scene (and I had a déjà vu moment thinking back to when I read Magpie).
I was really, really, really about to DNF this one too, but at the same time I felt that was not serious – I couldn’t keep DNFing books, could I? A long fight was going on inside my head: should I leave or should I continue? In the end, I decided to give it a chance because… because I had just decided not to finish another book.
I’m glad I continued because I feel this book gave me a lot to process, although there were moments here and there where I could feel the author’s presence, and this is never a good sign for me. Also, because it’s a story being told, I didn’t initially feel that transported, which meant I was emotionally distant from the main character.
Interestingly, this emotional distance slowly turned into shock and anger. I hated the main character. I won’t say why to avoid spoilers, but I could hear a voice in my head screaming: no, no, no! But that’s progress, right? Moving from feeling nothing to feeling shock and anger? Even though these are unpleasant emotions, it meant I was finally connecting with her, which is what I look for most in a book.
So I ended up having a real relationship with this book, and by “real” I mean I was feeling real emotions. Borrowing the Roman poet Catullus’ words, it was an “odi et amo” (I hate and I love) kind of relationship, but still a connection.
I do this thing with every book I read, I’m not sure if it’s helpful, but it just happens: I keep comparing what I read to Elena Ferrante’s style and books. I know it isn’t fair, and it’s not even useful since styles can be completely different and still valid. And it definitely didn’t help that while I was reading, I had the My Brilliant Friend soundtrack in the background!
I can’t help it, but I always try to see (again, unconsciously) if there’s a bit of Ferrante in the books I’m reading, and in this book I can say some of the themes are shared with the Italian author: female emancipation, complex relationships between women, escaping one’s origins, and deeply flawed characters.
However, where Ferrante makes you feel like she’s writing about you, this book felt very much like the story of just one specific person.
Also, Ferrante’s endings are open, so they remain raw and unresolved, while in this book the end closes the circle: you can see the protagonist’s development from start to finish. And every time I can see this, this circle that closes, it makes the story feel a bit less realistic to me. Still, it was a good ending which made me shed a few tears.
Structurally, it reminded me a lot of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo as the protagonist is reflecting and telling her life story.
Given how strongly I reacted to the book and the fact that it’s a debut novel, I really hope the author keeps writing.
Author: Georgia Kaufmann
First Published: 2020
By: Hodder & Stoughton